Monday, 30 November 2009

IT'S ONLY WORDS . . .

I will fully admit to a lot of things I'm not good at . . . and one of the main ones is speaking in front of people. Even telling a joke or recounting something that happened to me earlier that day is something I can't always do well. I get nervous and start to stammer and forget what I was saying midway through. I've always been far better at expressing my feelings, telling stories via the written word than the spoken word. Back in high school, in English it would always be my presentation skills that would bring me down; in French, I was better at writing in another language than speaking it. But even as a child, I always had confidence in my ability to write. On top of that, I was the only seven year old in my class who could write in paragraphs.

But now . . . even my writing skills don't feel up to par. I think of something i want to write and, in my head, it is epic. But then . . . when I try to put it into real words, it somehow gets lost in translation. I know exactly what I WANT to say . . . but I just can't seem to communicate it the way I want to. It feels fake, flat, dead. It feels like I'm FORCING it. I feel like I'm forcing it. I hate that.

I've been experiencing blogger envy on a daily basis. I am jealous of those who can communicate ideas I have in my head, but can't seem to express in writing - Princess Pointful is one who springs to mind in this instance, or this post by Chele. Or those like LiLu and Maxie who have this amazing ability to find humour in even the smallest of situations - and manage to actually express it so you feel like you were THERE. Or just about anyone on my blog roll who can make my day in seconds, or sum up exactly what I'm feeling, when I can't do so myself.

Last week I went to see 2012, and I wanted to write a review afterwards. In my head, once again, the review was absolutely incredible. I knew everything I wanted to talk about, the points I wanted to get across . . . But I just wasn't happy with the finished result.

What is wrong with me? I used to read things I wrote and I felt like I had some promise there. I can still see the promise in the old stuff. But these days I just find myself . . . well a bit lacking, to be honest.

Is it just that I'm so disillusioned with the real world that I've lost my ability to be creative the way I want to be? That I just lack the energy to TRY anymore?

They say words can't hurt you. But I kinda feel like they've turned on me now . . .

Sunday, 29 November 2009

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING . . .

I am waaayyy behind on my Christmas shopping this year.

Usually, I've bought the majority of my presents by now. This year . . . not so much.

A couple of things I've bought so far . . .


From amazon . . . a really cool Lolita martini glass . . .


A snug rug . . .
Another Lolita glass, this time a wine one. Pretty. :)

From Ollie & Nic, a pretty necklace . . .


Of course, I think I've kind of fallen into my usual pattern of buying things I want for MYSELF, rather than considering what the other people want. Oh dear.

Some other things I'm planning to buy . .

A USB Negative Scanner for my dad - the link is for the firebox site but I'm pretty sure I can get it cheaper elsewhere.
A chocolate fondue gift set for one of my friends.
I love the idea of these cocktails in a pouch but they seem pretty expensive for what they are.

And I'd kinda like this for myself . . . Slush puppy, anyone??

Anyone else had any good ideas for Christmas presents? If you've seen anything that looks interesting, that might help give me some inspiration, please feel free to give me some links... Pretty jewelery, strange gadgets, books that would make good gifts . . . come on people!!! Throw me a bone here . . . ;)

Saturday, 28 November 2009

HUNGOVER TO HELL . . .

My plans for last night fell through at the last minute and I missed out catching up with my friend and my haggis nachos sadly. :( But when one door closes another one opens and I made last minute plans to go out with one of my colleagues "for a few".

Which predictably became two large glasses of rose in The Lab in town, a trip to her flat for a shared bottle of Asti, then finishing the night off in Tennants in the west end with her brother and his friend and a lot more rose. Cut to after midnight and we were wandering about Byres Road trying to find somewhere else to go. Eventually I gave up and wandered home - judging by the text I sent my friend to tell her I was home safe, this must have been after one am.

Man, did I feel rough earlier. I vomited, which made me feel a bit better. But still not feeling entirely my best. Have managed to eat something and, more importantly, keep it down though. Yay!!! My sister is coming over tonight for pizza, wine, some DVDs and the X-Factor, so it's important I'm able to drink by then! I also have a hankering for chocolate fondue so mucho chocolate is going to be bought. Yum!

Anyway, I really should get out of bed as yesterday's mascara has flaked off over my face and my hair looks like it's been dragged through a hedge backwards.

And I wonder why I'm single . . .

Friday, 27 November 2009

ONLY AS YOUNG AS I FEEL . . .

Tonight I'm meeting one of my best friends . . . and it's the first night we're actually going out and getting drunk together since uni. I am really excited.

We first met back in 1997 when we both started our Marketing & Communication course and she was the first person I felt like I bonded with. I had lost touch with my schoolfriends over the summer and therefore basically had no friends - she quickly took me under her wing and for the next few months I ended up over at her local pub most weekends, which was most eye-opening for me, the girl who had only ever been to a pub once or twice before in my life (I was fairly sheltered as a teenager and, as I looked young for my age even back then, I got ID'd everywhere I went, meaning I couldn't really get INTO pubs, even though all my friends could.) I remember the first night I went out and ended up back at her flat, a bunch of us ended up sleeping in the living room on the floor, covered in quilts. Not the most comfortable of nights. I woke up in the early hours of the morning and someone was running their feet up and down my legs. I didn't move, assuming the guy next to me just had cold feet. I just continued to be asleep and eventually it stopped.

When I mentioned it the next day though, the other girls laughed at my naivety. "He was trying it on" they told me. I hadn't even realised. Even I had to laugh at my utter innocence - and also my lucky escape.

We have remained friends even after uni, although I can probably count on both hands with some fingers to spare the amount of times we've managed to meet up since 2001, since she's all domesticated and has three boys now (the boys who think Barney is my ex!) and I . . . well, I don't. I love the fact though that no matter how long it is between us meeting up, we always have tons to talk about.

And tonight is going to be great as we can both get drunk, let our hair down a bit, have a great gossip . . . and I can hopefully enjoy some yummy haggis nachos in Brodie's. Mmmmmmm.

So what's everyone else up to this weekend? Nice plans afoot?

Thursday, 26 November 2009

THAT LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE . . .



Sometimes in my head, I'm in that alternate dimension where things go to plan. Where the stuff I imagine happening actually comes true.

Especially when it comes to guys.

Sometimes I really wish that he would come back to me, beg me to give him another chance. What would I say? I'd like to say I would say no, or at least not make it easy for them. Sometimes, though, I'm not so sure.

I'm sure we've all been there at some point or another, right???

Recently I'm not really sure what I want. I'm not really sure what I NEED. But sometimes I would LOVE the chance to turn it all around on him, to throw it back in his face.

I'm talking about The Guy.

Remember how I thought I was over him? I thought maybe Cute Guy from the Party could help me forget him?

Turns out it was only a temporary fix.

I know we inhabit two different worlds. I don't want to hang out with his drama crowd, It's just not me. He never seemed to want me to hang out with them anyway. I don't think I'm ambitious enough for him either.

I don't really think we're meant to be together. I used to. Now I don't.

I just wish things could be different though.

Either that or I wish he would beg me to take him back and I could turn around, strong as you like, and refuse with my head held high.

I don't feel very strong right now, mind you.

But I'm getting there . . .

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

"I'M TIRED OF USING TECHNOLOGY" (WHY DON'T YOU SIT DOWN ON TOP OF ME?)

I realised recently that, while once upon a time, I could focus my undivided attention on a book or a film, or a TV programme, or a PERSON . . . I can no longer do that. My attention span has gone to shit. I seem to have to multi-task constantly. Have the internet on in the background while I watch "Flash Forward" (after all, how else do I tweet my amazement about what the latest little twist or jaw-dropping cliffhanger is?), check my Facebook notifications on my Blackberry while walking to the office, text my friends to arrange our next night out while engrossed in the latest Marian Keyes' novel. Even while sleeping I have the TV on half the time just so I can find out what's going on in the world.

Technology has spoiled me.

I LOVE the internet, don't get me wrong. I could actually sit and browse away all day long. I often do. With sites like stumbleupon, with so many blogs to read, so many shopping websites . . . there is so much to do. But at the same time, I have this fear that all this amazing technology is ruining me. Is spoiling ALL of us.

How often these days have I eschewed a night out in favour of sitting on Facebook and commenting on inane status updates? Sometimes I'll even sit and stare at it when nothing is happening, wondering where everyone else is. Surely they're not - GASP! - outside??? Enjoying REAL LIFE??? No, they couldn't be. Could they?

Getting a roll of film developed used to be such a big deal when we were younger, right? You didn't know how the heck the photographs were going to turn out - it was so exciting. Remember how damn amazing it was when Polaroids appeared on the market??? Pictures that appeared virtually straight away, AS IF BY MAGIC!!! Now, with the digital age, the gratification is even MORE instantaneous. You can see what the pictures are like virtually the second the flash goes off. The pictures of me (or you!) snogging someone really embarrassing, or falling out of a taxi with your knickers showing Britney-style can be on the internet in mere minutes for everyone to see, laugh and point at.

Internet stalking has made life sooo much easier. Never again do you have to casually walk past the love of your life's house twenty times a day to see if he's home. You can just work it out by hanging out on myspace long enough. As long as he's not one of those jerks that makes his profile private and BLOCKS you, that is.

I kinda miss good old fashioned normal stalking though.

Just a tad, mind.

How about texting? Oh it's great, especially for someone like me who is phone-phobic. Seriously. I am not one of those girly-girls who spends hours on the phone to my friends, I never have been. The thought brings me out in a cold sweat. Texting is one of the best things to ever happen to me. It means I can communicate with people without, you know, having to actually TALK to them. That being said, it appears to be ruining people's ability to spell, to be grammatically correct. All this text speak drives me mental, especially when it starts spilling into everyday life and you get emails from people who use the number "2" to save themselves having to differentiate between "too" and "to". Or "ur" so they don't have to remember whether the context they're using the word in requires it to have an apostrophe or not. Sometimes when I see text speak it is like the person has used hieroglyphics. It's not just a whole other language, it's a whole other alphabet!!!

Me and Cute Guy from the Party/Asshat/Swine Guy/Whatever I decide to call him next . . . on our one and only date we bonded over our mutual distaste of text speak. He said when I had text him the first thing he'd noticed was that my words were spelled correctly and that he'd been relieved about that. I admitted that I had clocked exactly the same thing in his texts and been equally relieved. (See? We'd have been perfect for each other. The Wankhead.)

Anyway . . .

On top of that, because we use "haha" and "lol" in texts and emails to denote finding something funny, I've found myself doing the same in real life. If someone makes a joke, instead of laughing, I say "lol". Sometimes I laugh too. Like when I remember that I CAN laugh because it's real life, not the virtual world. And people are maybe looking at me funny because I said "lol" completely straight-faced.

And one last peeve? I can't write for shit anymore. Gone are the days where I used to fill old exercise books with massive works of fiction using a Biro. After a couple of paragraphs now, my hand cramps up. I can't believe it's the same hand that used to sit and write for three hours during exams in school and uni. And write NEATLY at that. Now after about three lines my neat little cursive becomes an indistinguisable scrawl. That depresses me more than anything, and I couldn't even tell you why. It's like my hands have lost their power.

That being said, my fingers can type damn fast.

I love you, technology, don't get me wrong. I don't know where I'd be without the internet, text messaging, Facebook, all that stuff . . .

It's just sometimes I do kinda think wistfully of a simpler time.

Until I remember how much I love blogging.

I'd be up shit creek without technology for THAT . . .

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

IT'S ME, I ATTRACT THEM . . .

For some reason, randoms always seem to want to talk to me. Remember, for example, the guy who wanted to tell me about his anagram "Eureka" moment last month??? Well, it's happened again . . .

As I walked to work this morning, I noticed a window-cleaner who looked to be in his fifties, at an estimate, lazily washing the windows of a shop on Park Road. As I passed him he turned to me and said "If only I had stuck with geo-physics . . ."

What the fuck? I'm assuming it was a joke. Or perhaps he really DID have an amazing future ahead of him as a geo-physicist and threw it all away. I guess I'll never know . . .

Anyway, my default "unfriendly" expression clearly isn't working well these days. I'll need to get that sorted out . . .

Monday, 23 November 2009

NOT RIGHT . . .

You know what's weird? I signed up for NaBloPoMo and I didn't actually think I would find something to post about everyday. But somehow the universe worked in my favour and found me that (very) brief romance with the cute guy to neuroticize (is that a word? If not, I CLAIM it) about and also some weird Facebook encounters to talk about and therefore I've blogged through the month almost as easily as breathing.

(I wonder what the next mega eventful month will be. I had two this year - March and then November. Hmmm...)

ANYWAY, once again I have a Facebook anecdote for you, and one I am keen to get your opinion on, as it involves some basic Facebook friend etiquette.

Last Friday evening I was at a friend's house with some other girls for a girly night. This involved a girl we used to work with coming over to give us facials, manicures, massages, whatever our hearts desired (and our wallets could accommodate). I opted for a facial. That's irrelevant, mind. It was very nice though. My face as felt nearly as soft as a baby's bottom (one of the most WRONG expressions in the world, I'm sure you'll agree) since then. (Seriously. I compared it WITH a baby's bottom. No I didn't. I'm lying. Anyway...)

One of the girls informed me early on in the night that her mother's brother (her uncle surely?) had seen my picture on her page and liked the look of me. Is it wrong that this felt mildly creepy, considering that the reason I knew I liked Cute Guy from the Hallowe'en party was because I'd seen HIS picture on Facebook? Double standards, right? Well, I hold my hands up to that.

She told me about him and I immediately discounted him. Mainly because he was a divorcee with kids. Once again, that's me being all judgey but do you know something? I AM selfish, I will fully admit that, and I have so much of my own baggage (emotionally) that sometimes I'm amazed I'm not charged ridiculous amounts in excess fees everytime I go abroad. I told the girl this at the time.

This is also fairly irrelevant but I thought it was important to have some back story.

Later that night, as we lounged around waiting for our turn at being beautified, I popped onto Facebook to be confronted with a notification telling me I had two friend requests. Now I already KNEW that one of them was the creepy guy who I still haven't accepted or ignored and blocked. But the other one . . . I didn't recognise his name OR his picture. But I did notice we had the aforementioned girl as a mutual friend.

"Who's ------?" I asked her. She looked taken aback at the question.

"That's my mum's brother!" she exclaimed. ("Uncle?" I thought again) "Why?"

"He's just tried to add me as a friend on Facebook," I explained.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have friends on Facebook I haven't met. I am friends with lots of you guys. The difference is, in a lot of ways, I feel like I know you all. Sometimes better than a lot of people I know in real life, and I sometimes feel the reverse applies too.

I also have ended up friends with people I haven't met because we end up getting into a conversation while commenting on people's status updates. But in both these cases - the people I meet online, and the ones where we have mutual friends in common . . . we've actually had SOME SORT OF CONVERSATION AT SOME POINT.

This guy has never met me, knows nothing about me other than what he has read on my Facebook page or seen in my pictures . . . he didn't even have any sort of a MESSAGE alongside his friend request explaining who he WAS . . . I was creeped out, I'll have to admit.

I left the request sitting there next to the other one, kinda hoping it would go away.

Luckily, the next day it had. And I had a private message from him saying:


Sorry.

A few beers and and then I'm adding you in Facebook. Kinda weird of me, huh? Although, since you don't know me, that's sorta hard for you to judge.

Anyway, my apologies. Have fun.




So all's well that ends well. Right? I could breath a sigh of relief that the decision had been taken out of my hands.

Except today the girl emailed me to say that she'd been talking to him and he was really worried now that I thought he was a nutter. So now I feel guilty all over again.

Have any of you been in this situation? Is it just me that thinks it's a bit weird? Was it rude of me not to reply back to his message when I didn't even know him?

Sunday, 22 November 2009

SOME "SOUNDS" . . .

So tonight I was meant to be going to a gig at Oran Mor - The Sounds are playing. The reason why I'm not going now is a long story that I can't really be bothered getting into, but they're a pretty good band so you should check them out . . . :)







Here are some other songs stuck in my head at the moment . . .













They're not all completely recent songs but I do like to listen to them, so thought I'd share. What are you listening to right now?

Saturday, 21 November 2009

EYE EYE!!!

I've worn contact lenses since I was thirteen yet, weirdly, I haven't tried coloured contact lenses before. Which is a bit weird since I've always wanted to see what I look like with a different eye colour and you'd think I'd have taken advantage of the fact I willingly will stick plastic discs in my eyes to try this out.

But somehow I never got around to it. Until this week.

I ordered grey contacts and brown contacts off a website and they arrived last night. So this morning I decided to give the grey ones a try . . .

Seriously? I couldn't see a difference myself. The website does state that the eye colour you end up with can vary based on what colour your eyes are originally. As my eyes are naturally a fairly dark shade of green, I knew that this was a possibility. That being said, my normal contacts have a blue visibility tint on them and if I only have one in (which I do often) you can definitely see a difference in the colour of both my eyes.

My friend said with the grey contacts in my eyes looked greener. I didn't see a difference at all, except that they looked a bit fake - I looked like I had dolly eyes.

So I took a picture on my phone to see. And they look a COMPLETELY different colour in the picture from the way I see them when I look in the mirror. See for yourself . . .


(I look like I have a bit of a squint here, but it's more to do with the flash than anything else, I think...)

See what I mean about the doll eyes??? But they look a completely different colour from the colour I see.

Kinda makes me think about my hair colour. I'm a lot blonder in pictures than I think I am in real life. I guess cos it isn't my natural colour. Does anyone else get that?

I don't think I suit eyes this colour - the colour in the photo anyway. I'll be interested to see how the brown ones turn out. I'm thinking of getting REALLY blue ones to see what they're like though. Now I have tried coloured contacts, I'd kinda like to experiment. I have a feeling that I'm going to realise my natural eye colour suits me best though.

Do YOU all like your natural eye colour? Have you always thought you might suit a different colour better? Have you tried colour contacts? Feel free to share! :)

Friday, 20 November 2009

DOWNSIZING MYSELF . . .

For months now - nay, YEARS - I have been trying unsuccessfully to diet.

I've never been good at dieting. I love my food waaayyyy too much. And unfortunately it ain't the healthy variety I love. It's chocolate. And crisps. And cheese - oooooh, cheese, how I love thee!!! Could you be my favourite??? :)

Dominos Veg-o-Roma pizza. With the garlic and herb dip, of course. And possibly a starter or two.

Mozzarella cubes from Di Maggios. Macaroni Cheese from the Sandwich Concept.

You get the drift.

On top of that, there is the fact that in the past year or so, I've started to drink way too much wine. It's really REALLY not good for me, and I know this. And I'm convinced this is the reason why my weight has shot up.

Now, I know I'm not fat. But I'm not comfortable in my own skin. I KNOW the weight I should be, and I know I've went beyond it and then some. And that if I don't do something about it soon, then I'm going to comfort eat to make myself feel better, end up feeling worse as I put MORE weight on, and it's going to be one big vicious cycle that gets harder and harder to escape from.

But I've been telling myself this for ages now, and doing precisely fuck all about it. Or starting a diet and lasting a day.

Funnily enough, it was the unexpected events of last weekend that finally gave me the impetus I needed. That guy telling me he couldn't see me again, after one date, was just the push I needed. Because I imagined the fact that, with my friend now living with his friend, there may be the chance I would have to see him again. Perhaps with the re-animated ex in tow. (Quelle horreur, right?)

And if I DO have to face him again, I WILL be looking my best.

So finally I had the motivation to get off my arse and DO something about my body and my health. I know that you're meant to do these things for YOURSELF and I can assure you that I AM. I haven't felt great about myself in a while. I want to get healthier, lose some weight, tone up, improve my skin, perk myself up a bit energy-wise. It's just that FINALLY I have something that has spurred me on. Which can only be a good thing.

So I'm now at day 5 without alcohol (the longest I've been without alcohol since January). I can't promise I won't have some this weekend, but I'm certainly not intending to go on a binge. I've had no chocolate, I've drank shitloads of green tea, tons of pineapple and apples, loads of fish and veg . . . I've cut down pretty significantly on the amount of carbs I'm having AND I've been exercising. Not excessive amounts because I have to build up gradually or I'll scare myself off, but when you add it to my usual four/five mile round trip walk to work and back everyday, I'm pretty sure it will make a bit of a difference.

So I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. For the moment, my willpower is staying on track . . . despite the fact that my Aunt Rose decided to pop along for her monthly visit on Tuesday night and was very demanding re: the need for chocolate. I may not have been a good hostess to her but, hey, I never actually ask her to come!

But anyway . . . the point of this whole post is:

1) Wish me luck with keeping this going.
2) I WILL be skinnier by Christmas. (Positive affirmation and all that)
3) Swine Guy was good for SOMETHING at least. (We'll ignore the other good things - cute, good kisser . . . and remember he's ultimately an ASSHAT.)

That's all.

Thursday, 19 November 2009

TMI THURSDAY : OH NO, I SAID TOO MUCH . . . AGAIN . . .

TMI Thursday

So once again it's Thursday and according to LiLu, that means it's TMI Time (check out her blog for another Post Secret-esque volume today). And to be honest, I've contributed like three times now (I think?) and I'm already running out. So today's attempt is not so much a TMI, as a case of me GIVING TMI to someone else . . .

(Shit. Did that sound rude? It wasn't meant to.)

ANYWAY . . .

So I've lived in my flatshare for over six years now and in that time many girls have come and gone, but my landlord has stayed the same. He doesn't live there, he owns many flats around the west end of Glasgow, but there have been points where he seemed to spend a lot of time hanging out there, especially when the place was getting renovated a few years back (it basically got renovated around me as I refused to move elsewhere). Now, I don't mind my landlord at all; he can annoy the hell out of me at times, and (inadvertently, I think) be a bit sleazy, but overall, he's a nice guy. (Mich would probably tell you a different story though! Especially when she's hiding in my closet cos she's banned from the flat and he's unexpectedly turned up, haha)

Anyway, I used to tell people how he had this great knack for turning up in the flat when I'd just come out of the bath or shower, or was still IN it. And one day I was in the flat, having ran a lovely relaxing bubble bath when . . . sure enough . . . I heard him do his classic "four doorbell rings followed by immediately entering the flat". (Presumably he thinks he's giving time to warn us he's on his way in, but that doesn't really work if he is practically unlocking the door at the same time.)

I could hear him in the kitchen talking to one of my flatmates at the time, a really sweet French girl, and I lay in the bath cringing, hoping that he wouldn't ask if I was around. I couldn't really be bothered trying to conduct some sort of conversation through the bathroom door while I was trying to relax after a tough day . . . and, of course, naked!!!

But within a couple of minutes he was knocking on the bathroom door. "Hi Paula!" he shouted. "How are you?"

Dammit. "I'm fine thanks," I struggled to sound friendly.

"Are you having a nice bath?" he asked me.

How did he know I was in the bath?

(Lucky guess, apparently, there's no cameras in there.)

(I checked)

I felt a bit uncomfortable about this. So I HAD to say something.

But not about how I would prefer not to be talking about how nice my bath was, FROM the bath, through a door to a sixty something man. Oh no, that would be too easy. Too mature.

"How do you know I'm in the bath?" I asked instead. "For all you know, I could be doing a pee!"

There was a brief silence from the other side of the door.

I have to fill silences. So I continued.

"OR . . . I could be doing a number two!"

MAJOR TMI ALERT!!!

The silence continued. I worried if I'd went too far. Then he spoke again.

"No . . . I prefer to think of you in the bath. Enjoying yourself."

Ewwwww!!!

That was a bit of an anti-climax of a TMI. But on reading it back, I'm not sure what's grosser - what I said, or his reply.

I think probably his reply would win that prize . . .

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

OH NO SHE *DIDN'T* . . .

. . .Oh yes I did!!!!

I bought a top with that horrible, projects-an-unhealthy-body-image, anti-feminism-icon Barbie on it.

But I'm not going to apologise.

I loved Barbie as a kid.

I still think she's pretty.

It's retro. (I think...)

It was always funny that her feet were high-heel-shaped so without them on a real life version of her would obviously fall flat on her face when barefoot.

And . . . most importantly of all?

I needed cheering up.

And it made me happy.

Okay??? :)

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

MORE "APPS" THAT MIGHT COME IN HANDY . . .

This post has been a long time coming, ever since I wrote the last "app" related post and then met up with Mich a day or two later for some drunken drinking-ness. (Oh, you know what I mean!) We were discussing my post and then realised there were loads of other applications which come in handy . . . you know, in terms of finding men.

Like . . . imagine you're walking down the street and see the most beautiful guy in the world coming towards you. (Or, the most beautiful girl in the word, if you're a guy. Or a lesbian. Don't wanna leave anyone out here!) "Wow," you think (probably to yourself but possibly aloud- sometimes it's out before you can help it.) "I wonder if they're single."

So you hold up your iPhone, load up your newest application and point it in the direction of Hotty. "Oh my god," you blink in disbelief. "He IS single. Praise the Lord!!!"

But wait.

Perhaps there's a reason WHY he's single???

Don't worry, there's an app for THAT too. It will tell you how many relationships he's had, the length of them, the number of one night stands, the time he's told someone he loved them just to get them into bed, the number of hearts he's broken. The number of times he has ACTUALLY been in love.

Perhaps it can even tell you if YOU'RE the one who is going to win his heart.

Whether he is worth your time and effort.

Or if he's just a big TWAT (a la the Cute Boy from the Party) and THAT'S why he's single.

If only, eh???

Quick note to Apple . . . if you CAN produce a successful app like that, then perhaps you will win me over and I'll consider coming over to the Dark Side.

An added hint to have me succumbing absolutely to your power (by which I mean actually BUYING AN iPHONE!!!). . . create an app that when you hold up to the Hotty, strips him of his clothes so you can see what he looks like naked. 'Kay???

After all, even if he IS a twat doesn't mean I shouldn't get a look at the goodies . . . right??? ;P

Monday, 16 November 2009

WORKING IT OUT . . .

It's coming up to Christmas . . . which means it's time for Health Kick attempt number 5821.

Or something like that.

There are two vital problems with me going on a health kick.

The first is that I don't particularly enjoy healthy food.

The second is that I don't particularly like exercise.

Having finally managing to quit the gym
, I am now faced with the conundrum of finding some sort of exercise I can do that is actually enjoyable. That I actually WANT to do. But which actually WORKS!

I've been giving this a lot of thought.

I like swimming. BUT I don't like getting my hair wet. (And I don't like wearing a swimming cap.)

I like the IDEA of running. But I can't run for more than about five minutes without, you know, WANTING TO DIE. And I don't have the patience to build up to it gradually. AND I feel like I look really stupid when I run. So that's out too . . .

I thought about investing in some sort of dance mat. That could be fun, I thought. However, I don't really like following dance moves. I lose interest quickly. This is also why me and dance style aerobic dvds don't get along, and why there's no point in me trying out dance classes. (Although pole dancing DOES sort of appeal . . .)

The aforementioned gym. Nope. Never ever again.

Investing in a rebounder. Sounds fun but it doesn't really work all that much when you live above someone else and your floors are a bit creaky.

Some sort of team sport. Hmmm. I like the IDEA of that, but I'd probably lose interest early on due to the fact I would undoubtedly suck and sucking in front of other people is not something I would like to do on a regular basis.

(That last sentence could sooo be taken the wrong way. I take it back . . .)

So my exercise of choice is generally some type of Tae-bo style dvd. It feels like it works and it means I can take out my frustration by pretending to aim punches at someone's head. BUT . . . I feel like there must be more fun ways to lose weight.

Like . . . if I had some sort of Gladiator style assault course nearby. THAT could be fun.

Or a circus type workout. I hear these type of workouts are in fact available these days but I doubt I could afford it . . .

Or my favourite game as a kid. Aeroball, which we always used to play at Pontins. Why can I not play that to lose weight? It would be FABULOUS exercise. All I need is to own my own aeroball thingummyjig to play it in. And some other people to play it with.

And then, of course, there is the most enjoyable exercise option ever. Let's say it together . . .

SEX.

Huh. Chance would be a fine thing. :(

Any other ideas, guys???

Sunday, 15 November 2009

BETTER OFF ALONE . . .



It seems fitting that I accompany this post with the song above, its namesake, which is approximately 10 years old.

Why? Because I realised at 19, before I had really had many interactions with the male of the species, that I was probably better off alone.

Any interactions I have had ever since have proved it.

Boyfriend number one, the only one I ever broke up with, who told me about two weeks later, desperately, that he loved me. I found out later he had snogged one of my friends that same night. They went out for far longer than we ever did.

Boyfriend number two, who liked to tell me how much of an ass he had been to girls. At the time, I thought this was an admission of guilt. After I was dumped through a friend, I realised that he was boasting more than anything else. And I was just, to quote Gwen Stefani, "another ex girlfriend on the list." (Yes, I really SHOULD thought of that before we kissed.)

Boyfriend number three, the only one I truly believe thought he loved me at any point. The only one I thought I might love back. The one I lost my virginity to. The one who hates me now.

Boyfriend number four. Who was never really a boyfriend, just in my own head. Just a fling, since he already HAD a girlfriend. Who I'll always regret. I never wanted to be a person who encouraged someone to cheat. I just have to hope he regrets that MORE than I do, given that he was the one who had a significant other waiting at home for him.

Boyfriend number five, who didn't want to admit I existed. Who didn't realise how much it hurts to refuse to hold your girlfriend's hand in public, to panic when you THINK you see someone in a pub that might know both you and your girlfriend. I might as well have been seeing a dude with a girlfriend all over again. (Perhaps I was and didn't make the connection).

Boyfriend number six, a guy who I worshipped in high school and who ten years later admitted he worshipped me too. Yet, after that first heady month of constant texts, dates and facebook chatting had no longer any time for me.

And now Cute Guy who let me down unexpectedly and badly.

Back when I was 19 I decided I would probably be on my own for most of my life. I accepted this fairly happily. I know that I am probably never going to find "the one". It just doesn't seem to be on the cards for me. Even a year ago, I realised this - back when some random from a party asked me out and I realised I was pickier than I realised . . .

I'm not being defeatist here, just realistic. Even if I DID find the perfect guy, who wasn't embarrassed to be seen with me, or didn't want to get back with an ex, I'M going to fuck it up.

Simple fact of the matter is, I generally want to be alone.

I HATE to have to rearrange my life around other people.

I'm far too SELFISH to want a relationship.

The thought of being married chills me inside. Not because I don't like the idea of being with one person forever . . . but because the idea of LIVING with someone else, of having to SHARE A BED WITH THEM . . . freaks me out bigtime.

Right now, I'm happy just sharing my queen sized bed with myself and whatever crap I can't be bothered removing from it before I fall into a drunken stupor.

Maybe one day the one will come along.

But I'm giving up waiting on that happening.

Saturday, 14 November 2009

SWINE FLU . . . OR JUST A SWINE??? YOU DECIDE . . .

The second date is cancelled and there's not going to be a raincheck.

Last night I got a text from the Cute Guy saying would we say we'd meet at eight tonight at Ashton Lane. But warned me that he wasn't feeling very well and was a bit worried he'd come down with swine flu (one of his colleagues had a suspected case of it) so if he survived through the night I'd be first to know. Fair enough, I thought.

Didn't hear from him today but I assumed maybe it was because he was REALLY ill and couldn't even face picking up the phone. So half an hour ago I text him asking how he was. Cos after all, if he wasn't going to make it, I would still have time to make other plans.

I was expecting him to get back to me and say that he was too sick and would have to leave it for now.

What I WASN'T expecting was a text ten minutes later, not mentioning being sick but instead telling me he was really sorry, but he couldn't see me anymore. That he'd been chatting recently to someone he'd went out with for a long time and that they still had feelings for each other. That I was a lovely person but he couldn't ignore a four year relationship.

Talk about blindsided.

I am in absolute shock.

Just in the past two weeks there was times when I was questioning stuff, wondering if he would contact me, if he'd want to see me again. I didn't expect the "ex girlfriend" angle though.

I knew it was too good to be true that he was single. There had to be SOME kind of catch.

Now I've found it.

He's a twat.

Another one bites the dust.

(I'm okay, by the way. Just shocked and a bit angry about being messed around. Still better it happened now.)

Friday, 13 November 2009

DE-FRIENDSHIP . . .

When I went on Facebook the other day, I was confronted with a friend request.

This was from a person I'd de-friended about six months ago on the same very site.

In fact, I'd de-friended him on Bebo too. He was someone I worked with years ago, a bit creepy to say the least, and every time I was on Bebo at the same time as him (it always comes up saying when you're online on that), I would get a private message. EVERY TIME. Despite the fact I would never reply. Eventually I removed him.

On Facebook, before I worked out how to appear online, he kept trying to chat to me. Eventually I de-friended him on that too. If you don't actually want to even TALK to someone, even from behind the safety of a computer screen, then that says something pretty important about whether you should be their friend even in the VIRTUAL world.

So a couple of months back I was at a friend's civil partnership ceremony and this dude appeared. "Dammit," I whispered to my sister. "I removed that guy as a friend online." He caught my eye, I awkwardly nodded at him, wondering if he'd noticed the fact I'd disappeared off his friend list. From the fact he didn't try to chat (thank God!) I assumed he had.

Until I saw this friend request.

Why didn't I block him when I had the chance? Now if I block him, he'll probably notice that I've completely vanished off the face of facebook. Does it matter on the grand scheme of things? Nah. Do I particularly care what he thinks? Certainly not. I'm just worried I may run into him again and have that scary awkwardness of not knowing if he knows that I blocked him/removed him/refused his request of Facebook friendship/insert any other possible option here.

For the moment, I'll just leave the friend request sitting there . . . waiting patiently for an answer.

For as long as it takes.

Thursday, 12 November 2009

TMI THURSDAY: DIRTY PRESENTS YOU MAY WANT TO AVOID . . .

TMI Thursday


Ohhhhkaaaayyyy . . . So I've decided to contribute to the wonderful LiLu's TMI Thursday once again . . . BUT with a slight twist. I don't really have a story at hand I can think of to share, either personal or not but what I DO have is too much time on my hands to seek out some presents that won't be on MY Christmas list this year. (And I HOPE not on yours either . . .)

So firstly, courtesy of the website needapresent.com . . .

Well, doesn't THIS look classy? "But what IS it, Paula?" I hear you ask. Good question.

It's a gentleman's ball scratcher.

Because, you know, if you're gonna be rude and scratch your balls, at least do it using a utensil that looks a BIT posh, you see. That makes it ALL better . . .


NEXT???


This would be a Willy Care Kit.

Yes, you too could have the finest groomed penis in all the land.

It's just too tempting, right???

(And, in case you weren't ALREADY sold, surely the willy bracelet COMPLETE WITH MEDALLION, has had you reaching for your credit card??? No???)

Don't worry, it's about to get even better . . .



What have we here??? Why, it's exactly what it says on the packaging - a DICKDAR!!!

All you need to do is point it at your target's groin and . . . well it will size up (pun completely and utterly intended, I can assure you) his package. Nice . . .


So we'll leave that website now and visit Find Me A Gift instead. Coming? ;)



You will be with this . . . (insert dirty giggle here).

That's all I have to say on that one.

(It's pretty damn self explanatory, right?)
Okay, so I avoid coffee and tea like the plague . . . really the only time I drink out a mug is if I'm having milk.

And there would be something sooo weird about that with THIS mug . . .

Now the above picture . . . it's intriguing, no? What could those be, I wonder???

Hmmm. Well in my expert opinion, they're either woolly willy warmers . . . or the most impractical condoms ever . . .


Ladies, ever wanted to play with your boobs when your stressed? (Men, ever wanted to play with a LADY'S boobs when you're stressed? Or if you have manboobs . . . well, you know . . .)

Now you can have one to play with. Just the one, mind. No matching pair or anything. Just one boob all on its own, not attached to a body.

Not QUITE so appealing now, eh dudes???

And last but not least . . .

. . . In fact, this is possibly the oddest-ball one of all.

Willy weights.

The instructions on the website advise you to warm up and RUB DOWN after using it.

Hahahahahaha and multiple more "ha"s.

I would be curious to know if any guys have ever tried these and if they made the slightest bit of difference . . . Answers on a postcard please!!!

Anyway, that's me over and out for this week's TMI Thursday - hope you enjoyed it . . . and if you decide to buy any of these things . . . perhaps don't let me know about it!!!

Wednesday, 11 November 2009

IT'S THE "HARD" IN "HARD-TO-GET" THAT'S THE VITAL POINT HERE . . .

I'm trying to play it cool here. Tell myself I'm not too bothered if he gets in touch or not, tell myself it's fine really . . . after all, I'm not really looking for a relationship right now, kinda want to be single and not have to answer to anyone.

(In some ways, I even kind of mean it. The timing isn't entirely convenient for me when I'm barely over the guy.)

Yet when I don't hear from this new one for almost three days, I worry that I won't hear from him again.

(Despite the fact he text me on Sunday night to talk about the "X Factor" result, just because he knew I watch it.)

(Also despite the fact I've been reliably informed that when two people go on a date or two, they don't always contact each other constantly. I'm just used to that from past experience unfortunately...)

And then tonight, while making (not particularly successful) chocolate chip cookies, he sends me a text asking how I am.

Which I don't notice for nearly two hours. Therefore playing hard-to-get entirely by accident - as if I HAD noticed the message straight off I'd have been trying desperately to restrain myself from replying and probably failing.

So I reply, nice casual, somewhat witty comeback to his text.

And nothing.

Now I'm wondering if I played the whole thing too cool.

Being inside my head hurts sometimes . . .

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK . . .

So today I was walking home from the office, minding my own business, when I walked past a group of schoolboys heading the opposite direction.

As I passed them, one of them . . . HIT ME IN THE ASS WITH A ROLLED UP BIT OF PAPER!!!!

Then they all walked away virtually pissing themselves laughing.

What the fuck???

A couple of questions are raised from this five second event . . .

  • Er - why???? What possessed them?
  • Do I look much younger than I think? Surely they wouldn't have done that if they thought I was an actual real-life "grown-up"?
  • If I WAS an actual real-life grown-up, would I have given them the finger? (Who do I think I am, Louis Walsh?)
I'm thoroughly confused by the whole incident.

But in an odd way, despite feeling ever so slightly violated, it WAS the highlight of my day . . .

Monday, 9 November 2009

IS IT SOME SORT OF CONSPIRACY???

So you'll remember how me and the guy hooked up ten years after high school after getting involved in an all-night drunken chat on Facebook in March of this year, which involved an impromptu drinking game and a mutual admission that we both used to fancy each other?

And then a month or so ago ANOTHER guy I went to high school with asked me if I wanted to go for a drink sometime.

Well, last night I was on Facebook (I know, a rare occurence - HA!!!) and there was a massive "X-Factor" backlash going on due to Simon "Coward" Cowell's decision to take the judge vote to deadlock, meaning the public vote counted and the horrendous Jedward stayed in the competition as a result. We were all feverishly commenting on one another's status updates about how awful it was, and in the course of events, I was commenting on the status update of ANOTHER boy I went to school with. Not one I had known particularly well, although I'm sure I thought he was cute back then. But anyway . . . there was a bit of banter going on, not just with me and him but with a couple of other old school folks as well.

When I woke up this morning, I realised this guy had left me a private message . . . with his phone number!!!

I swear to God, I'm starting to become convinced there's a secret Facebook group the guys from school are joining, and I am the butt of some joke to see how many guys I'll flirt with or go out with. It's just starting to get a bit out of control really.

Or maybe I REALLY need to stop with the Facebook flirting. Although it's not like I MEAN to do it . . .

Bad Facebook. Bad BAD Facebook!!!


(Just in closing, I don't want you to think I'm moaning as such about this, I'm just a natural paranoid person and it seems weird to me that guys are suddenly popping out of the facebook woodwork. Plus I'm kinda liking Cute Boy from the party still . . .)

Sunday, 8 November 2009

THINGS TO POSSIBLY AVOID TALKING ABOUT ON A DATE . . .

  • Whether or not Louis Walsh is gay.
  • If John and Edward ("Jedward") from X-Factor are his secret sons and that's why he picked them for the groups category



(I'm REALLY glad I missed this performance...)

  • The Bermuda Triangle (don't even ask, seriously. I honestly don't know HOW I managed to get onto that subject.)
  • A random work anecdote about someone who cheated in an exam and a wet cheatsheet covered in faeces. (I know, I know. There's something wrong with me . . .)

That being said, I managed to avoid asking if he had enjoyed his pee OR if other guys had been looking at his penis in the bathroom.

And despite my conversational vomit, it seemed to go okay.

And the snogging on my doorstep at two am was fun. (He walked me home. What a gent.)

Let's wait and see . . .

Saturday, 7 November 2009

WHEN I TALK ABOUT "TABLET", I'M HONESTLY NOT DEALING DRUGS . . .

The finished article - a lovely plate of tablet - yum!!!


A few weeks ago, we had a lunchtime meeting in work - which essentially means we are supplied with food during the meeting but miss out on a "proper" lunchtime. Okay so we get free food, but it's generally not stuff I like (although the brie and cranberry wraps are fairly to-die-for when I'm in the mood). However, this time was slightly different. There was TABLET for dessert.

A colleague of mine who is from Northern Ireland mentioned that when she had first came over to Scotland, she had thought we were all drug addicts as she just constantly heard people talking about tablet. Eventually she had to ask what it was.

Here is a definition of what tablet actually is, taken from Streenge.

"Tablet is a traditional Scottish sweet (candy) that goes back at least to the 18th century. It may have originated as a way of getting a quick burst of energy in the middle of a cold Scottish winter.

Tablet is probably described as a bit like crumbly fudge but even sweeter. The texture varies depending on who has made it. Sometimes it's very light, crumbly and melts in the mouth, sometimes it's more crunchy."


It is a national delicacy and is readily available over here. It is not a surprise that Scottish people generally don't have brilliant teeth given the amount of sugar that goes into it. But for an occasional treat, I find it utterly irresistible.

After having it in that meeting, I decided to give it a go making it myself. I'd only ever made it once before, and I'd actually been trying to make FUDGE, so I wasn't too hopeful. However, I found a suitable recipe online and managed to actually make a fairly impressive batch of it. I made an even MORE successful batch for the Hallowe'en party I went to last weekend, so I think I'm becoming something of an expert, not to blow my own trumpet.

I can't take credit for the recipe as I stole it from elsewhere, so if you decide you want to give making tablet a try, go to this website for further instructions.


The general gist of it though is that you combine sugar, condensed milk and butter in a pan (along with some milk to dampen the sugar in the case of the recipe I used), stir it all up together as its boiling and voila!!! After it sets in a tray you have some delicious sugary confectionery to munch on!


Step 1 - mixing the sugar and milk together . . .


All the ingredients mixed together and getting ready to boil . . .



The final mixture poured out into the baking tray . . .



So there you go. I'm NOT talking about drugs when I'm talking about tablet, and when I mention forcing cute boys to eat my tablet, I'm not pushing drugs on them. Just thought I should clarify that, haha!

And if you decide to give making tablet a go (which you should), let me know how you get on. ;)

Friday, 6 November 2009

RULES OF RAIN . . .

I loathe and despise rain.

Growing up in Scotland, I feel I am something of an connoiseur when it comes to the subject of rain. Especially as I was caught in what appeared to be some sort of random MONSOON this very evening. So I've decided to compile a helpful guide to rain for you. I hope it provides some assistance . . .


1. If you don't want it to rain . . . it will rain.

2. If you have spent more than five minutes sorting out your hair . . . it will rain.

3. If you are looking forward to a certain night out for AGES . . . it will rain.

4. If you have lost/forgotten/broken your umbrella and have no spare . . . it will rain.

5. If you are wearing a white t-shirt and no bra (although why WOULD you????) . . . it will rain.

6. Keep an eye out for surface water at the side of the road at all times if you're walking. There is a HIGH likelihood a car will drive through it and splash you. Possibly MORE than one car. Just sayin'...

7. If someone has a MASSIVE golf umbrella, chances are they will be walking in front of you, very slowly and holding you up. On a very narrow pavement.

8. If you have no umbrella, there is a good chance someone will try and poke you in the eye with a spoke of their umbrella.

9. If you are holding an umbrella and walking towards someone else holding an umbrella, you will meet at the narrowest point. Guaranteed.

Now I'm sure I thought of LOTS more rules as I stomped home with soaking wet feet, a pointless umbrella and a soaking wet paper bag of Primark goodies (Oh yeah, that's another rule, if you buy anything in Primark -one of the few places in Glasgow that's environmentally friendly enough to use paper bags - . . . it will rain) but my mind has gone blank. Possibly because 1) I'm probably dying of a cold now after being so soaked and 2) I'm too nervous about tomorrow night to think straight. But hopefully you identified anyway. And if you didn't . . . you clearly don't get enough rain. Where do you live? Cos I'm moving there...



Now, in closing, I want to share a song which is completely unrelated to the subject but which I've loved for quite a few months now, and I just saw it on TV and thought I would do you all a favour if you hadn't heard it yet. It's beautiful . . .

Thursday, 5 November 2009

TMI THURSDAY: THE EARTH MOVED; OR PERHAPS IT WAS JUST MY DRAWERS . . .

TMI Thursday


Every girl has a best friend.

And I'm not talking about the human kind; I'm talking about the one we (generally) keep hidden.

Mine was named PG a long time ago. PG stands for Pink & Glittery.

PG is rather on its last legs as he (he HAS to be a "he") has known me for a long time.

Recently, he doesn't always work when I try to use him. Mainly because I only have cheapo batteries and keep forgetting to buy the good kind. So anytime I try to use it, I am swapping batteries about (you know, mixing battery brands and ages like you ain't meant to, out of desperation) and sometimes it works.

Most of the time it doesn't though.

The other day, I felt a bit bored and thought I would see if he felt in the mood too.

He didn't. After about ten minutes I gave up and put him back in my drawer.

I was in my bed and reading when my flatmate came in. She told me she was bored. and was telling me about her day. As she was about to leave she stopped and said "What's that noise?"

I couldn't hear anything (and couldn't really SEE anything either given I'd taken out my contacts and didn't know where my glasses were). All I could hear was the quiet hum of my netbook. I suggested perhaps it was that, but considering it was on my lap and she had her ear cocked towards my desk drawers, I thought perhaps she was just hearing things.

About fifteen minutes later or so, I got out of bed to head for the bathroom . . . and realised, suddenly, that my desk was vibrating.

Yes, my little "friend" had came to life while my flatmate had been in the room and had been merrily vibrating away ever since.

I don't know if she had worked this out or decided it was just a figment of her imagination.

Since she HAS the URL to this blog, she may have worked this out anyway if she reads this (In which case, sorry, B!)

Oops.

To add insult to injury, when I tried switching it on again . . . it stopped.

Bastard.


PS In other news . . . Saturday night is date night. I finally got a text today. Eek!!!

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

"ON FIRE . . ."

The other day, when I was telling my friend about the weekend's activities, she told me I appeared to be on fire at the moment.

It's weird I suppose. In a lot of ways, I've got a lot more attention just in time since The Guy vanished out of my life than any other time.

First the second (far more random) guy from high school asking me out on Facebook.

The 23 year old the weekend before last.

And then of course, there is the hot guy from the party. Who seemed keen. Who essentially asked me out the other night and said he'd get back to me to arrange it.

So why hasn't he???

I have to admit every paranoid muscle in my body (and there are LOTS) are already kicking into motion as I wonder why I've been waiting nearly 48 hours for a follow-up text. How much of me is having to resist contacting HIM . . . because if I'd went against my instincts with The Guy, it probably would have ended far sooner and not been dragged out the way it was.

I'm sure as heck not starting something off doing all the running. The ball has been placed in his court, by HIM, and he isn't serving.

If this was Wimbledon, he'd probably have had a fine or something by now.

Game, set and match to moi...

Tuesday, 3 November 2009

THE (BLURRY) BACK STORY . . .


The minute I walked into the party on Saturday night, I kind of wanted him.

Well, if I'm going to be truly honest, I knew BEFORE the party. Ever since a night two of my flatmates had had for their close-together birthdays, right before me and the guy ended. There were a lot of people in the pub last night, and it was only afterwards when I saw the pictures on Facebook that I couldn't believe I had missed The Cute Boy.

I mean, I KNOW I'm not the most observant of people, but COME ON!!!

So when I found out he was going to be at Saturday's party . . . I was pretty excited. When we arrived at the party though, the first thing I noticed was he was one of the many not dressed up. Suddenly my "devilish" costume felt a bit stupid.

Then I remembered it showed my boobs to their best advantage. In fact, scratch that. It showed my BOOBS. In a few of the pictures, my nips have practically escaped. Oops.

Anyway, we all sat around and chatted as people are wont to do at parties. It's a fairly small flat so most of the action occurred in the living room, with the smokers nipping out to the bedroom when they wanted a quick fag. This meant a lot of musical chairs went on as people left the room and others occupied the chairs they had vacated. While I kind of hoped I'd end up beside him. But it wasn't happening. We were two people apart at one stage . . . I tried to flirt then. I suppose I was pretty obvious, considering I was forcing only HIM to try my tablet, or moaning at HIM for not dressing up in fancy dress. He tried to point out he was not the only one who had copped out. But I was focussed pretty much only on him.

The others gradually began to leave, but he was meant to be getting a taxi back with me and my flatmate since he lives nearby. So he was my captive.

(MWAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

At this point I sat down beside him. "So . . . what's your story?" I asked him.

I think that I thought that was going to sound nice and casual and . . . I suppose like something out of a book or a movie, where I was the clever, witty heroine everyone else either wanted or wanted to be. He didn't have a clue what I was on about. After all, I had forgotten one vital thing here.

I wasn't poised and cool and sophisticated.

I was DRUNK!!!

So I started rambling on about how hot he was, and how the heck was he single and I just couldn't believe it. Embarrassing stuff. I think I started asking him about past relationships but I couldn't tell you what the answer was. I wasn't even sure if he was interested by this point, but I know it was him who eventually said something along the lines of . . . ."Will we just stop talking and kiss."

That's usually MY line. I wasn't about to object though.

I know after that there was lots of kissing, interspersed with me trying to play Guitar Hero, and me giving him my number, and me telling him about how I had saw the picture of him at that last night out and been raging that I missed him. Yes, lots of embarrassing stuff like that.

Yet after me and my flatmate got out of the taxi at approximately 5 am on Sunday morning, he texted me within ten minutes to say he'd had a really nice night and would hopefully see me soon.

I left it until last night, when I was talking to Mich via text and telling her I wasn't sure he wanted to hear from me. I thought perhaps he had just liked me when he was drunk. She suggested that perhaps he thought the same. So I decided to make a quasi-first move and text him to ask how he'd felt after the party. Making a risky move myself and revealing I had puked (that's hardly going to make me seem particularly attractive, but it seemed like a good idea at the time!). After about two hours he replied and a text or two on he said something about getting a drink at the weekend. By this point it was 1 am though, so we left finalising anything.

So that's it. He's cute (if you're my friend on Facebook you could even go see for yourself in my Halloween album...). I kinda like him I think. He seems nice enough - what I remember of him anyway. I'm a bit nervous if it does go ahead because I really don't know him AT ALL. But I suppose I have to start taking risks at SOME point in my life.

Keep your fingers crossed for me anyway . . .

OOOOHHHHH!!!

Looks like I might be going on a date next weekend with the bloke I kissed the other night. Ooooh.

Not getting my hopes up JUST yet, but it seems like it's on the cards...

As for the guy (the one I went to school with), I think I'm finally over that one.

Perhaps it really DOES take getting under one man to get over another.

Or, in my case, just the THOUGHT of it . . . ;)

Monday, 2 November 2009

THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH . . .

So there are quite a few geeky things about me, but one of the main ones is my mild obsession with natural disasters. Asteroids, tsunamis, earthquakes . . . sometimes I take the notion to read up on them obsessively using that Tool of All Knowledge we call the internet. (Wow, what did I do before it existed? Oh I remember . . . I used to spend ages using some sort of encyclopaedia software. Yes, I just got even MORE geeky...)

Anyway, along with the fascination with natural disasters, I also have a soft spot for the odd disaster flick. "The Day After Tomorrow" was probably my favourite, so I was very excited when I found out about this movie. Is anyone else really wanting to see "2012"???

It's one of those films though that I REALLY want to watch but at the same time? I'm fucking terrified. Because it's based on something that COULD possibly happen. I didn't know that the world might end in 2012. And now I'm bloody scared!!!! I know there's been loads of "end of the world' scares and the like, even just in MY lifetime, but still . . . I'm a bit fraidy cat.

So maybe I really don't want to see it after all . . .

Sunday, 1 November 2009

HANGOVER HELL BUT . . .

. . . I kissed a hot guy last night. Like REALLY hot. (As far as I'm concerned anyway)

That's all.

Going back to bed to die now. Or possibly to the bathroom to hug the toilet bowl and think about puking . . .

UPDATE: I DID puke. Copiously. :(

AND, since a couple of you asked, he has my number and I have his. So I guess we'll have to wait and see . . .