Sunday, 29 June 2008


Just home from last night (not in THAT way, I stayed at my friend's flat, I honestly WASN'T being a dirty stopout - chance would be a fine thing!. After getting pissed in her flat on Cheeky Vimtos (a mixture of port and Blue Wkd - which is surprisingly delicious) out of a leaky cocktail fountain, chowing down on a Chinese takeaway and not managing to get out until ten pm, it was only logical that we would have to go dancing - so headed off to the local club of the area . . . The Shed. Cheesy pop at its finest - in theory!

By the time we got there, I was already pretty damn drunk so sensibly, for moi, decided to go onto water. Didn't stop me dancing away like a maniac though - before long I was feeling decidedly warm and had a major bad case of clubber's hair (you know when you've been dancing so hard that the underneath of your hair ends up all wet and suddenly you have hair which is bordering on an afro, no matter how straight it started? If anyone knows of a way to avoid this happening, i would be extremely grateful for any advice!) And I was looking around for any good looking (and possibly desperate) guys that might be able to help me break my snog drought (four months and counting . . .) and coming up with amazingly few. As is always the way, the majority of the presentable ones already had a girlfriend with her tongue halfway down their throat, so I kind of struck out on that idea.

Towards the end of the night, some guy started dancing right behind me and one of my mates said "I think he's trying to dance with you P". Fair enough - I decided to give him a try. Turned around . . . wasn't amazingly impressed. Nice body but a bit smug and sleazy looking. I can't really describe him but thought, well, who am I to judge, he might be a nice guy.

"Who are you?" he asked me, while pulling me away from my friends into the middle of the dance floor.

"Who are YOU?" I retorted wittily. Neither of us introduced ourselves in the end.

So we danced for a bit and the longer we danced the more I became convinced that this was NOT someone I wanted to kiss. Not remotely. The smug smile on his face didn't help - neither did the stupid gestures he was making as we danced. Not to mention the fact that at least three guys walked past and asked him where his girlfriend was . . . By the time he started pretending to pimp me out to the guy standing next to him, I'd had enough. "I'm going to find my friends," I said, turning away.

"Wait, sorry, I was only kidding," he said, looking a bit taken aback.

"Nah, you're alright." He'd provided me with the perfect excuse to walk off, much to my relief. I didn't even look back. Let's just say that one was NOT a missed opportunity, and not someone I'm going to regret not kissing . . .

Speaking of which, I've officially given up on the London guy by the way. Still no reply and that's been over a week now. And no point in chasing him, given the distance, so that's that. You never know, we may run into one another again at some point, although it's probably unlikely. Oh well . . .

Saturday, 28 June 2008


This book sticks in my head for a specific reason. Notice how the bar of soap has a little bit of pubic hair on the bottom right hand corner of it? Lovely eh???

Anyway, I bought this book for an ex as part of his Christmas present a couple of years back, while I was in WH Smith browsing through the comedy section (this was back when I still bought books in shops). I saw it sitting on the shelf, noted the pubic hair and thought "That's disgusting!" and tried to brush it off the book!

Two thoughts immediately followed this:

1. "Oh phew, it was just part of the book cover, not a real pube!"

2. "Wait a minute, if it had been a real pube, I would just have touched it. Ew!"

Of course, I had to buy it then . . .


Apart from this memory, I have nothing much else to say. Currently in recovery of sorts, as I had two events to attend last night - a work night out on the Renfrew Ferry, which turned out to be more fun than expected, and then a flatwarming on the southside, which was also okay. I basically paid for nothing all night as we got free drink vouchers at the work night out (not very many but luckily it doesn't take much to get me drunk - ha!) and then helped myself to punch at the party. Free drink for the night is pretty damn good, although I am suffering just a tad now. Blogging from my bed, still wearing the top half of the outfit I was wearing last night and a whole faceful of make-up (my eye make up quite often looks better the next day - anyone else find that?), and mainlining Coca Cola. And shortly I'll have to get up and get myself ready for another night out on the southside. Looking forward to it, obviously, although part of me wishes I was just having a chilled weekend in like last weekend. The fact that I'm not willing to spend time by myself again is obviously a good thing. Although the last week I'm realising maybe I'm not quite as okay as I thought - the below song kinda sums it up I think . . .

Thursday, 26 June 2008


*The pub quiz team name . . .

I woke up this morning, feeling a little the worse for wear, rolled over and for a moment was surprised to see my sister next to me. There was also tons of chocolate bars on my desk. "Where did they come from?" I asked, wondering if there had been a food-drop during the night.

My sister rolled her eyes. "We bought them in the Co-op on the way home last night."

Ooops. I didn't remember being IN the Co-op . . .

For some unknown reason, yesterday I was popular. I had six - count em, SIX! - individual invites to do various things. Obviously I couldn't do them all, but I managed to combine meeting my sister with going to a pub quiz, so managed two of the six - better than nothing!

Last night I drank - half a bottle of rose wine, French Martini, a large glass of white wine, a Malibu and pineapple and three further glasses of white wine. Funnily enough, I also didn't manage to help our team to victory. Wonder why . . .

It wasn't the most practical of set-ups anyway - due to a distinct lack of free tables, our five team members were sitting down one side of a long table - with two other teams ALSO sitting at it, and the team at the table behind us also within eardropping distance. So we had to employ some sort of Chinese whispery effect - not sure all the answers that made it to paper actually matched the original response.

Then there was the anagram one - one of the girls had spent ages staring at it trying to work it out assuming it was a band (apparently it usually is!) - she said "what band has V and L in it?" That must have stuck in my head because then, when the quizmaster told us it was a household object, I didn't even have to look at the anagram again to shout out "VACUUM CLEANER!"

"Yeah P, tell the whole place why don't you?" one of the guys said.

I repeat - Oops.

I love quizzes because I love to show off my mastery of general knowledge. (I was actually the captain of the primary school quiz team - although we went out after the first round of the Schools Quiz . . . not my fault, I must add!!!) The problem was, I hardly knew the answers to ANY of these questions. Then again, neither did anyone else. On my team, I mean. Obviously whoever won the quiz must have known more answers than us - or been better guessers. Whoever they were (think their team name had Jobby in the title, which amused me no end) they seemed to be regulars.

Even when they won though, that wasn't the end. For there was some huge cash prize and everyone had a go at it. Even us - despite not even being in the top three. Unfortunately our task as I recall was to manage to bounce a ball on a bat seven times - which sounds deceptively simple but clearly was going to be a massive task while under the influence. Ah well, I knew it was too good to be true . . .

Anyway, as I said, I have no recollection of getting home, apart from knowing I was desperate for the loo during the walk. My sister claims she had to undress me - unfortunately she forgot to take the two metal hairbands I was wearing off so I can still feel the indents that has caused in my scalp even now . . .

Oh, and yesterday I managed to use the phrase "don't hate the player, hate the game" in an email. I was very proud. I've yet to manage to describe someone as a "bag of dicks" though. That's my next challenge . . .

Tuesday, 24 June 2008


. . .realise I have a definite tendency to reveal way too much about myself.

Colleague: Hi P, how are you?
Me: Yeah, I'm okay I suppose. But - I think I might be allergic to my thong . . .

. . . have a virtual nervous breakdown over what I'm meant to do with my expense claim after my boss's boss approves it.

I actually think the only way to stop me panicking over stupid things in work would be to make everyone wear t-shirts with their name in massive writing on them, and give me a floor plan showing everyone's desk in the place, where the invoice tray is exactly, who I need to speak to about every related subject and what exactly I'm allowed to claim for.

And I'd probably still get it wrong . . .

. . . have one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had

I witnessed Susan Kennedy from "Neighbours" getting shot at close range (I have no idea why!) and cowardly ran away - I think I thought I was in the soap opera at first then I realised it was real life. Then I went to someone's house to look after their kid while the killer was on the loose and ended up locked in the kid's room while someone, who I assume was the killer, prowled around the house. I woke up freaking terrified!

Do you think this means I secretly want to be a soap opera actor?

...start to wonder if my water-and-green-tea drinkathon is futile.

My skin is actually worse instead of better. I know everyone says the toxins have to come out first but how many toxins do I bloody have inside me??? Plus everytime I go to the loo, I feel like it lasts for hours (too much information, I know!) This is not productive use of my time. On the upside, I spend so much drinking water while in the office, I barely have time to think about food, let alone eat it. So guess that's a good thing . . .

. . . am still feeling a tad rejected.

Five days now and still no word. Oh well. That's life and all that (and especially true of mine!) but it's a shame - I could have used a little harmless email flirtation with a cute boy. And damn, he was cute . . .


Monday, 23 June 2008


I'm angry this afternoon.

No, no, scratch that. I'm furious.

I'm the kind of livid where I would love to take a swing for someone with my fist and send them flying through the air. Or bang someone's head repeatedly off a wall (not least my own). Or jump up and down so violently on a piece of furniture that it ends up lying in pieces on the floor.

If I had anything I could use as a weapon, I would be dangerous. In fact, I probably could have improvised pretty well had I not been so angry that I virtually couldn't THINK. I'm so angry that if you heard about someone being violently beaten up in Glasgow's west end tonight, there is a chance I could have been the prime suspect . . . had I not stormed home the second the clock struck four to stew in my own emotion.

If the annoying workman whistling at me and shouting what I'm assuming he thought were flattering comments at me had been on my side of the road, he probably would have regretted it bigtime. And, if I'd quite had my wits about me when he did it, the guy who walked past me and made an offensive (yet also somewhat flattering) comment about my tits would probably have been pushed onto the road in front of a speeding car.

I'm that kind of angry where I've felt myself physically trembling at points in an effort to hold the fury inside. The type where I'm trying so hard to hold it in that it comes out through my tear ducts instead. Therefore making me look like typical over-emotional girl.

The weirdest thing of all? I don't have a massive reason to be angry. My main anger is based on disappointment - because this started off a pretty okay day considering that it was a Monday and I had to get up at half past six this morning. And it rapidly went downhill from thereonin.

What pisses me off most is the fact I was effectively made a scapegoat for something I may have not done wrongly had someone explained the guidelines to me - and the fact I got the blame when I wasn't the only one who had done something wrong. In the grand scheme of things it was nothing huge - but being made to feel guilty for it does not sit well with me. From that point on, EVERYTHING annoyed me . . .

  • people talking to me (unless I wanted to talk to them)
  • the fact I constantly needed to go to the loo due to my previously mentioned current goal of drinking as much water and green tea as I can
  • the fact that guy never messaged me (although that was only a minor irritation - and thanks for all your nice words on that, by the way!!!)
  • being the last name on a team email (and not because it was in alphabetical order)
  • feeling like I can do everything right and STILL don't get any recognition - what's the freaking point, eh?
  • when someone who has been trying to wind me up for months is seemingly STILL trying to do so. And even though it doesn't bother me anymore, the fact they are still trying to do it then succeeded in winding me up anyway.

This culminated in a point where I got an email asking me something where I felt like yet another go was being had at me. By this point I nearly exploded, this was the point where the shaking and teary eyes really started in earnest as I slammed my fingers down on the keyboard to form my angry reply. Then I felt guilty when it turned out that there had been nothing accusatory about the initial email, I had just read into it wrongly. THEN I felt angry for feeling guilty.

The only conclusion I can come to is that it must be bordering on my time of the month . . .

Sunday, 22 June 2008


I couldn't resist any longer and had to log onto my facebook. Telling myself although I didn't expect a reply, I would have a look just in case.

No reply.

Why am I so gutted???


Once again, my mind is a bit blank - I'm trying to plan loads of cool things to write about, honest, I'm just suffering a bit of writer's block right now for various reasons - so figured I would do a bit more recycling . . . sorry!

There’s lots of annoying sayings in the world. Or maybe there’s just annoying people. Since I’m at a bit of a loose end today, I thought I’d pick the best of the worst.

Which is just another way of saying “It is you.” Everyone knows what this saying really means and look at it this way, if you just tell the truth, you don’t have to use as many words. Result!


God, this one makes me sooooo angry. Notice how it’s always strangers (usually those builders or street sweepers who stand around in groups thinking it’s fun to harass unsuspecting passers by) who say this, people who patently do not know the first thing about you. Now, while I’m a nice enough person and I like to smile at people I know, I do not naturally walk around with an ear-to-ear grin plastered across my face. I am just not that kind of person and never will be. Therefore I get this comment, and variations on this comment, thrown at me rather a lot. My tendency is to either ignore it, sneer, or tell them to “Piss off” since as far as I’m concerned, how do they know it hasn’t already happened??? They bloody well don’t! For all they know, I’ve just been dumped, or experienced a family tragedy or been fired.

Actually, I remember being over at the house of one of my friends while I was at uni, and her mum came in from the supermarket giggling to herself. Turns out she was standing at the till getting served when the checkout operator had decided to use the saying on her – I guess she must have been looking a little down in the dumps. As she herself felt the comment was more than a little cheeky, she had responded, straight-faced: “Actually, my gran’s just died.” The poor bloke was mortified, understandably and (as far as I’m concerned, deservedly). She did tell him she was kidding, and obviously it was a perhaps a bit mean of her to do it, but it just goes to prove that strangers shouldn’t stick their noses into other people’s lives and say things they know nothing about. Hopefully that guy never said “cheer up love, it might never happen” to a stranger again. And every little bit helps!


Okay, so strictly speaking it’s an advertising slogan and not in fact a saying but I probably hear it more than the others, and I find it irritating. How dare all these gorgeous rich famous girls flipping their hair about for their million dollar endorsements tell me how much I'm worth!!! Excuse me, I’ll decide for myself thanks! And I think I’m worth far more than a bottle of L’Oreal shampoo!


Well, I was a little dubious about this so I decided to do a little light internet research on lightning – here are some interesting facts I found out:

- There are 50 to 100 Lightning Strikes to the Earth world-wide every second.
- The majority of lightning strikes have an average length of 2-3 miles long and carry a current of 10000 Amps at 100 million Volts
- The Empire State gets struck by lightning thousands of times a year.

So clearly lightning does strike in the same place twice. In fact certain places are lightning conductors. And the same could be said about people – perhaps it has not been properly proven that they are literally human lightning conductors, but if you are using lightning as a metaphor for, say for example, heartbreak, perhaps they are more likely to have this happen to them more than once, maybe because they’re too trusting, or too much of a romantic, or whatever. Or you could look at it in terms of illness – just because you have already suffered with a certain illness once doesn’t mean you won’t necessarily suffer with it again. And think of all those families who have tragedy hit them more than once – do you think they would appreciate someone giving them the platitude “lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice”? Well, they might appreciate the possible sentiment behind it, but they know it's not true!!!

And now, so do you! So keep it zipped.


Is it really??? Do you think so? Oh that’s right, I’ve been working ten hour days, I’m completely exhausted, could really use my bed! But wait – what if I just change jobs??? It will be like going to bed all the time!!! (well, only if I’m a bed tester – if only!).


Well actually in theory I have my mum and dad’s eyes, since unusually their eyes are pretty much the exact same shade of green (no, they’re not related). But my eyes are my own. If they were my mum’s, she'd be blind, since she’d have no eyes, and I would actually be less blind, since I’m much more short sighted than she is. So really the only time that statement could really be true would be if I had some sort of eye transplant using her eyes. Which makes my eyes hurt just thinking about.

Similarly any other comments along that vein are equally stupid. For example me and my sis (who look nothing like each other) have occasionally been told we been told we have the same cheekbones. Yes, that’s right, we have a time share in them, I have them today so she has to stay at home. After all, that clapped in look is soooo out at the moment…


Another one of those clichés/platitudes trotted out faithfully whenever a romance ends. And like most clichés, it completely doesn't help. For one thing, I’m a human – why would I want to date a fish? Or a pebble, for that matter – “Plenty more pebbles on the beach”. Okay, okay, I get it, it’s just someone’s way of saying that there’s plenty more guys out there. But here’s the thing – I know that. We all do. We do have eyes in our head, we can see them walking about. It’s like being a hungry vegetarian at a family party and someone saying “There’s plenty of nice food over at the buffet” when it’s all meat dishes. I’m neither hungry (at the moment) or a vegetarian, but you get the point. Just cos it’s there doesn’t mean you’re necessarily going to care to eat it. And maybe in a few weeks I’ll be at another party and I’ll have decided I’m no longer a vegetarian and quite want some meat, but I’ll decide it in my own time. So shut up, okay???


Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment of this one, it’s just that my mentality is more “If you love someone, chain them to your bedpost and never let them leave.”

In retrospect, that’s probably how I got the restraining order…


Once again, not strictly speaking a saying, but a quote from the film “Anchorman”. However, in my workplace I hear it a lot!!! At first, it was mildly funny (I am an “Anchorman” fan, after all). But now I have two problems with it.

The first is the fact that in my surroundings it is widely overused, along with various other quotes from Anchorman, The Simpsons, Futurama, Team America, Family Guy, American Dad, and any other film that stars Will Ferrell or Ben Stiller. If I sit with a group of girls at lunchtime we will discuss life, guys, food, basically a wide range of topics. If I sit with a group of guys, it is a barrage of quotes being fired backwards and forwards across the table. And “I Wanna Be On You” features heavily. It gets pretty tiring. (Is this quote thing common of all guys, or just the ones I seem to come across? I’d be interested to know!)

Secondly, certain guys I know now feel they can use it as a chat up line. And it is, to my eternal shame, actually a line that worked on me.

As a chat-up line or just part of a conversation, it basically sucks. So stop it! Or I'll be on you, and not in a good way, I can assure you!!!


I’ll try and remember that next time that bus sails past me even though I’m standing at the stop with my hand out. And I’m already late.

Because that cliche, like all clichés, has really made me feel better.

Thanks so very much…

Of course, if you DO use any of these sayings on a regular basis, don’t worry too much. I can’t really judge. I am, after all, the girl who was once told “Paula, think about what you’re gonna say before you say it, then just keep your mouth shut.” I have since killed the guy who said that to me, but it still probably holds true . . .

So what saying or phrase really gets your goat??? (man, there's another stupid saying right there!!!)

Saturday, 21 June 2008

WHY IS IT . . .

. . . that I always feel completely compelled to reply to someone straight away???

So remember I said the other night in my inebriated state that I was going to message that guy? Well, although I never confirmed I had done it, I did. Just a casual message saying I didn't want to just request him as a friend without at least saying hi and asking how he was. The second I had done it, I totally regretted it - in much the same way I had when I originally made the friend request.

So I kept myself away from logging into facebook until last night (while also under the influence) and was amazed to find he HAD actually replied. He had said "good to hear from you!" and said he was okay and he didn't know how I'd survived work after that night we were all out, he'd just been glad to have the day off to recover.

Now I didn't know whether to reply back or not. He hadn't asked me any questions or anything, but he had said it was good to hear from me. There was no need for him to say that, I didn't expect it. Typical me though, just reading too much into things. He'd only sent the message yesterday morning so I tried to stop myself from responding straight away. But I couldn't help myself. I tried to continue the conversation. Not gonna check for a couple of days to see if there is any response though because, if he DOES respond, I really don't want to reply straight away this time. Also, I don't know for definite if he WILL respond.

Hmmm, why is it so hard to know whether I should be BOTHERING trying to keep in contact, or whether it just isn't worth it? He didn't HAVE to reply, I send messages on facebook quite often which don't get responded to. AND (why do I keep focussing on this???) he DID say it was good to hear from me.

The old neurotic me rears it's ugly head once again . . .

Friday, 20 June 2008


So my mind is blank today - possibly as I'm already slightly tipsy (hey, that's okay, it's a Friday night so all is good in da hood! And, no, I don't know why I just said that!) Anyway, since I can't think of anything interesting to blog about personally, I thought I would share some little "lifestyle hints" courtesy of The Little Book of Crap. Hope you enjoy . . .

  • Don't worry if your family have all been killed. A little dab of rosewater will soon see you feeling calm again.
  • See a penny, pick it up. All day long, you'll have a penny.
  • Have you ever seen how soldiers stand proud? Join them. Walk tall. Keep a straight back. But watch out for snipers.
  • Make sure that all your engagements are unimportant. That way it won't matter if you're late.
  • Imagine yourself on a wanted poster. There. Somebody wants you now. It's good to be wanted, but not for murder.
  • Remove the "best before" labels from your food. Now you can enjoy the thrill and danger of eating.
  • Be calm. You can't feel stressed when you're feeling calm.
  • If you're broke, don't worry. Use toy money, or pretty shells.
  • Move to the North Pole. You'll feel on top of the world.
  • Don't eat raw vegetables. Raw is an anagram of war.
  • Stick your head in the sand. The worst thing that can happen now is that you get sand in your eyes.
  • If you lose custody of your child, don't worry. You'll be able to see them in the school holidays.
  • When you have a stressful problem, run away from it. Fast as you can.
  • Lower your standards to the level you're at. Success is easy.

Wouldn't life be so much easier if we all followed his advice???

I've decided to just stick the first song that came into my head that I found on youtube on so here goes . . .

Thursday, 19 June 2008


. . . the whole health kick notion goes out the window, flying alongside the pigs that accompanied my promise to myself that "this time I'll stick to it".

ORIGINAL PLAN: "I'll only stay out for a few hours, have one SMALL glass of wine, and eat SOMETHING HEALTHY when I get home."
WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED: Rolled in at eleven pm, having drowned myself with FOUR LARGE GLASSES OF WINE, and plates of both fries AND garlic toast (which was essentially garlic bread, but I ain't gonna quibble).

Then the morning after . . .

ORIGINAL PLAN: "I'll put some natural yogurt in a tub, take it in for breakfast."
WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED: Managed to leave yogurt on the counter in kitchen back at flat, so had the logical alternative instead - a bar of chocolate . . . (wasn't that the obvious choice???)

ORIGINAL PLAN: "I'll take a tin of tomato soup for lunch. That's healthy."
WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED: Succumbed to peer pressure and natural hungover desire for greasy stodge and got a massive baked potato loaded in butter and CHEESE (mmmm) from the sandwich shop.

BUT what I CAN feel proud about is . . .

I have drunk a ridiculous amount of water and green tea in the past two days (as well as the wine, obviously). Seriously, I hardly EVER drink water OR green tea, so this is a big deal for me. Now if only I can make myself LIKE these things. Let's face it, as far as I'm concerned, green tea is no subsitute for Diet Pepsi, or Diet Irn Bru. And water DEFINITELY ain't no replacement for a good Pinot Grigio . . .

Hell, Jesus turned water into wine for a reason!!!

Wednesday, 18 June 2008


It seems that every couple of days in our office, an email is circulated about the first floor ladies' toilets. Why? Because apparently they're a bit of a state.

Which is true. Seriously, how hard is it to:

***pick up any toilet paper you drop on the floor?
***pick up any hand towels which fall out of the bin?
***not pee on the toilet seat (we're not MEN, for f*cks sake!)?
***remember to flush - particularly after a bowel movement?

One of my friends came back from the bathroom the other day and said to me "You do not want to KNOW what I just saw in the toilet." Being me, of course I DID want to know. So what was it? "There was a poo in there the size of a baby!" (That's a SMALL baby, for all you pedants out there - I had to ask!). Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but if you (or your ass, more appropriately) created something on that scale, wouldn't you be checking to make sure it had vanished before you left the cubicle? Unless you were proud of it and wished to leave it on display like some sort of Damian Hirst "work of art" (please note the inverted commas). I know a couple of people who are absurdly proud of their poo, but once again, they tend to be males, so therefore shouldn't really be in the girl's loos. So even if it WAS someone who wanted to show off, wouldn't they want to put their name to it? Perhaps they scratched their signature into it, I suppose. After all, we're not going to look THAT closely are we?

I actually get embarrassed everytime I need to go to the bathroom after one of these emails goes around . . . in case someone thinks I am the culprit! In fact, it could be anyone female in the building, but when it's happening on your own floor (thankfully not LITERALLY on the floor - can you imagine???), it's a little harder to ignore.

I don't see how it can ever be different though. How can you prevent such dubious crimes taking place? Put a security guard outside to inspect each cubicle after you've done your business? Hardly feasible, is it . . .?

SECURITY GUARD: Hold it right there, young lady!
ME: Who, me?
SECURITY GUARD: Number one or number two?
ME: Sorry?
SECURITY GUARD: I SAID . . . Number one or number two?
Me: None of your business!
SECURITY GUARD: I can go in there and check, you know. You should make it easier on yourself and confess now.
ME: Okay, okay, I admit it . . . It was a two. But I cleaned up after myself, I promise!
SECURITY GUARD: Huh, we'll see about that . . .

I can't help but wonder whether the culprits treat their OWN bathrooms like they do the office one. Or perhaps they grew up in the wild, wiping their ass on bits of leave and bark so maybe I shouldn't be too hard on them . . .

Other things bug me about the bathroom. For instance, like many have blogged about in the past, I'm pee shy. And this bathroom is freakily quiet most of the time. So I tend to end up spending quite a while in there, nervously hovering (cos, let's face it, after everything you've heard, would YOU sit down?) and waiting for my bladder to relax.

In addition, some others appear not to have heard of toilet cubicle etiquette, which clearly dictates you shouldn't go into the cubicle next to someone unless there is no space elsewhere. I get angry when someone walks into the bathroom and goes into the stall next to me WHEN THERE IS NO ONE ELSE IN THE BATHROOM!!! It makes it even harder to relax because 1) I'm irritated, which isn't going to help my state of mind and 2) the person is right BESIDE ME, which isn't going to help the pee-shyness. Occasionally you also get a person who makes a lot of noise, whether it's a direct result of their activities in their (ie involuntary noises if you know what I mean), ridiculous coughing fits, and my two most unpleasant experiences - one was someone who blew their nose loudly and repeatedly everytime I managed to relax, the other was a woman humming in a creepy way which made me feel like I was about to be murdered. All of the aforementioned put me off doing my business.

It really makes me glad I'm not a bloke and having to face the trauma of the urinal . . .

In other news . . .

So the guy accepted my friend request. Not sure whether I should do anything or not for the moment, or just leave it right now with the option to contact in the future (possibly when I'm drunk again). After all, remember the facts here. Lives in London, not likely to be back here anytime soon. A girlfriend in another country which may or may not be serious. Possible player. Perhaps I somehow imagined the chemistry. FOUR YEARS YOUNGER THAN ME!!!

But oh so cute . . .


Fuck it, I'm messaging him.

Tuesday, 17 June 2008

"WHEN I'M 64 . . ."

There's a cheerful old English gentleman who lives around my way. He's always very charming and complimentary to me, and just seems to say what he thinks in one of those "I'm old, I can say what I like" sort of way, to the point where I never can see him in the street without smiling. You want examples?

Example 1:
I'm standing outside my door waiting for the taxi I ordered to turn up when he walks past.
Old English Gent: Oh I say, are you being paid to stand there?
Me: (wondering if I've been mistaken for a lady of the night, albeit at nine thirty am when I'm in fact on my way to the office) Em - no, why?
OEG: I thought you were perhaps being paid to make the street look more attractive?
Me: Um - I'm just waiting for my taxi actually.
OEG: (appreciatively) Lucky taxi.

Example 2:
As I am walking behind him up the street, he turns and sees me.
Me: (politely) Er - hi.
OEG: Good morning. My, this street is just full of beautiful women.
Me: (stupidly) Was that a compliment?
OEG: Why, of course. You're very pretty.
Me: Um - thanks. (laughs awkwardly and goes to walk past him)
OEG: A nice view from the back as well . . .

You think I joke? I do not. It is ever so slightly perverted, some of the things he says, I admit, but he gets away with it. Perhaps because he is a harmless old man. It's amazing what old people can get away with, isn't it? Does this mean I can get away with doing the same when I am an old lady. Can you picture me perhaps in forty years time, wandering about the streets, chatting up young men?

Older me: My oh my, when God gave out looks, you must have been at the front of the queue.
Young man: (uncertainly) Thanks . . . Ma'am.
Older me: (checking out his rear view) And might I add, you have a fabulous sweet ass on you.
Young man: What???
Older me: Would you like to come home with me for some (meaningful pause) lemonade?
Young man: ????? (runs away)

I can only think of being old in a random funny way as the idea of getting older scares me. With less than sixteen months to the big 3-0 and confirmed sightings of three grey hairs so far, I'm already beginning to panic. But if I'm going to have to be old eventually, I think I've decided that I want to be "that mad ol' yin who chats up all the young men".

I've always liked younger men anyway, so it's more than likely going to happen. . .

Monday, 16 June 2008


All the fishes are dead now, apparently. The "murderers" included. My friend says, at this point, it's almost a relief. . . .


Waking up yesterday morning and going through my sent messages (you know, just to check I hadn't sent anything stupid, as most of us are wont to do when we're drunk), I was kinda surprised to discover a text I'd sent to one of my friends the previous night saying "Hi D, I have something to tell you. I'm pregnant . . . with triplets." Even more weirdly, I'd sent it to the friend I was out with that night.

After a momentary panic, I remembered we'd been talking about one of my friend's workmates, who is one of those "anything you have done, I have done better" types and tends to try to pass other people's stories off as her own. My text was a reminder to my friend she was going to tell her colleague that her friend was pregnant with triplets . . . and see what happened next. Watch this space!!!


Yesterday's conversation with our upstairs neighbours (we befriended them by drunkenly shouting out the window to them as they were coming into the flat then they decided when they got upstairs to lean out the bay window in their front room and try to have a conversation with us as my flatmate's friend was having a fag).

Guys upstairs: Wow, a fag. Give us a puff.
FF: Er - no!
Guys upstairs: Go on, hand it up to us!
FF: Who do you think I am, Inspector Gadget?
Guys upstairs: Go Go Gadget Arms!!

I'm thinking they may have been stoned because they then started shouting "Neighbours, neighbours!" out the window everytime they wanted to chat. Ever heard of knocking on the door?


This morning, I meet two of my flatmates in the kitchen. Flatmate Number Two has her sister with her . . .

Flatmate 2 (apologetically) Hope you don't mind P, but I borrowed a bottle of water out of your fridge.
Me: Oh right, okay (wondering since when do I keep bottled water in the fridge?)
F2: It's just that my sister doesn't like tap water. I hope that's okay.
Me: (still bemused) No no, don't worry about it, it's not a problem.

Five minutes later to Flatmate 1 . . .
Me: I don't buy water and keep it in my fridge.
F1: What do you mean?
Me: The only bottle of water in my fridge was one I bought and drank a week or two ago and then refilled . . . with tap water.

Apparently F2's sister, who hated tap water so much, couldn't tell the difference...


And last but not least, located the guy on facebook and tried to add him as a friend. He hasn't bitten. Oh well . . . Plenty more fish in the sea (and not in my friend's bowl, that's for sure!)

Friday, 13 June 2008


London was awesome. It's only the second time I've been down there and to be honest, it's never been top of my list of places to go to, but both times I have been down there it has exceeded my expectations.

Obviously I was having to work during the day and work was pretty damn hectic, but my leisure time was all my own. And the weather was absolutely fabulous! Every evening started off with me slurping down a couple of rose wines on the hotel bar terrace overlooking the Thames. One day no one else wanted to enjoy the sunshine so I went it alone with a couple of magazines and my mp3 player for a few hours. I'm not really one for drinking in a bar on my own, but for some reason I didn't mind doing it in the hotel.

I also got to meet up with one of my friends from uni, who left her mobile at home the day we were meant to meet but turned up at the hotel bar on the offchance that I would be there. Unsurprisingly, I was! I took her for dinner and then we came back to the hotel bar where according to one of my colleagues, I decided to start singing "I Get Knocked Down" by Chumbawumba for no reason that I can even contemplate!

The last night I had the option to stay in the hotel for dinner with one half of my colleagues, or venture further afield with the other half of them. I decided to go with the second option on the spur of the moment and am so glad I did, as it was an awesome night. We started off in Brick Lane for a curry (service was crap but the food was great!) then we headed to Shoreditch to meet a couple of one of the guy's friends. One of which was the guy mentioned in the previous post.

I can't even remember what we were talking about or anything really. We didn't say much to one another in the first bar, in the second we ended up sitting next to each other and we ended up talking about default facial expressions. Apparently mine was "cynical and worried" according to him. Sounds about right. I could feel his arm brushing against mine, but was sure it was an accident.

In the next bar/club, suddenly things heated up. We were sitting chatting and obviously it was loud, so he was leaning over and tocuhing me when he talked to me. I felt - well, kinda turned on, to be perfectly honest. Wow - I was human again!

Next time we were all up on the dancefloor, I could feel him looking at me, and everytime I caught his eye, he would smile at me, and I would think "man, just one snog, that's all i need. One snog just to prove I can."

Like i said, it would definitely have happened had we had a bit more time, but we were clearly just feeling each other out at that point and I was too out of practice to make the first move, I guess.

When we went to jump in the taxi, he was a bit occupied talking to his friend so I just went over and gave him a hug goodbye and he kissed me on the cheek. Twice, I think. Now I think, "dammit, I should have just jumped him then." But hey hindsight is a great thing, isn't it?

So that's it. My memories of London - sunshine, rose wine, good food, a great laugh, an awesome last night and a flirtation with a guy I'll more than likely never see again.


. . . when it's a guy you met 48 hours ago and will more than likely never see again, despite knowing his best friend?

. . . when he lives about five hundred miles away?

. . . when you know precisely fuck all about him apart from a couple of anecdotes you've drunkenly shared upon meeting, and what you've been told by the aforementioned mutual friend?

. . . when he apparently has a girlfriend, even though she too lives in a completely different country?

. . . when you flirted outrageously with one another, dirty danced (to the point where you were almost abandoned in a strange city alone by everyone else?) and had obvious chemistry (and when even I can tell this, there's definitely something going on there!), but failed to close the deal by mere minutes?

I think deep down more than anything I'm just happy I still appear to be capable of fancying someone.

Since my modus operandi is generally wanting someone that I can't have, this is only to be expected. Especially since I was left wondering . . .

Wednesday, 11 June 2008


... got home about half an hour ago and been suffering from a cold since not long after the flight down to London so I'm seriously exhausted and run down. Plus I only got three hours sleep last night. Long story...

Right now I'm too tired to update you but will let you know all the events shortly. Work was hectic but had a surprisingly good time all the same! Hope you're all having a good few days, and will catch up shortly.

Oh, and I got a text last night to say Orange had been murdered by his new bowl-mates!!! Unless I imagined it . . . Poor Orange. :(

Saturday, 7 June 2008


Won't be about for the next couple of days as I'm off to London tomorrow for a couple of days with work. Will be good to get away again. Although I still need to pack - boo! I hate packing! And after the last couple of packing debacles, I'm especially not looking forward to packing this time!

The Glasgow chapter of the hen night went pretty good last night - we had a great time, although the seemingly "regular" crowd in Tiger Tiger appears to have gone rapidly downhill since the last time I went there. Spent today shopping in the capital with my sis, which was good fun . . . although my beloved LG Prada phone conked out on the train on the way there and could not be resuscitated. I'm gutted about that, and now will have to sort out something with my network since I still have seven months left on that particular contract. I now have my sim card in my old phone and finding it really hard to text etc when I'm used to using a touch screen now . . .

Speaking of death, my friend text me while I was out last night to tell me that Vodka the goldfish has now passed. Poor Vodka. Apparently Orange has taken the death pretty hard and is devastated. I honestly never thought I would feel sorry for goldfish but i really do!!!

Sorry I don't have anything particularly interesting to say tonight, but I'm pretty whacked having only had about five hours sleep and spending the day walking around in ridiculously warm weather. I shouldn't complain, I love a sunny day, but I'm not equipped to deal with shopping during a heatwave. My body just can't handle it!

Bon voyage to me, and enjoy the next few days!!!

Thursday, 5 June 2008


Sometimes my utter sadness amazes even myself . . .

I popped onto facebook "for a moment" about two hours ago, to discover another of my distant cousins (what are we if my gran's brother was their aunt? I'm bad at relative definitions as I have so few) from Ottowa had added me as a friend. Which was nice. But then I noticed they had a typing speed application on their profile . . .

Now I'm not big AT ALL on these application thingys on facebook, I hardly EVER add any. But typing speed? I couldn't resist?

Two and a half hours later, I was STILL typing frantically away, trying to better my previous score. To the point where I'm going cross eyed and am suffering something that seems to be akin to repetitive strain injury in my left wrist. I keep having to wave it about in the air as some form of respite (or repentance, perhaps? Sorry wrists!)

But I got a record of 85 words per minute so I ain't complaining. I may not be good at a lot of things but man can I type. Especially impressive since I can't touch type and only use two fingers. God, can you imagine if I COULD touch type??? I would be a world Olympian in typing - if there were such a thing!!!

Right, I need to go and sort out an outfit for the Glasgow chapter of the hen night started in Spain. It's theme is all-black which is a problem for me - not as much as a problem as when it was all-white, but I hardly own any black OR white clothes so I'm gonna end up wearing my work trousers or something. And like I said before, if you have a myspace you can check out the hen holiday pics here.

Oh, and I've bought this girl's album recently and I have to say, she is fantastic. You should check it out, if you haven't already!! Her voice is amazing!!

Wednesday, 4 June 2008


Can't be arsed writing a new post today. So I'm stealing from something I wrote elsewhere, which my slagging of "Ironic" yesterday reminded me of. Sorry - I'll think of something more original soon . . .

Once upon a time, I had this idea that songwriter would be a great occupation for me. Of course, my hopes of this illustrious career were ended almost immediately when I realised one small, yet vital fact - I was pish at songwriting. Therefore, I should really refrain from judging other people's efforts.

But, then again, I can do what I like really! And bear in mind here that I'm not necessarily slagging off their songwriting ability in general - rather some of the more choice lines from certain songs. You may not agree and that's up to you, but it won't stop me! So here goes . . .

CHESNEY HAWKES - "The One & Only"

I'm probably taking this out of context but:

♪♪♪ Because you'll find out that we come in different shapes and sizes ♪♪♪

Is that not immediately obvious? After all, it is a basic fact of life and is the reason why shops provide clothes in different sizes, leg lengths, chest sizes, etc.


♪♪♪ Bring, bring - bring your flowered hat ♪♪♪

Like the ringing phone impersonation ain't bad enough, the singer then proceeds to tell us that her beau is in possession of a flowered hat. I'm sorry, but I'm firmly against guys wearing flower patterns and anyway, shouldn't it be "floral"?

REM - The Great Beyond

♪♪♪ I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs ♪♪♪

In his spare time, Michael Stipe has some slightly odd hobbies . . .

PINK - Don't Let Me Get Me

♪♪♪ Never win first place, I don't support the team, I can't take direction and my socks are never clean ♪♪♪

Way to sell yourself, Pink! May I suggest buying a washing machine at least?

DIDO "Here With Me"

From the first line in this song, Dido shows some mild naivety . . .

♪♪♪ I didn't hear you leave . . . I wonder how am I still here ♪♪♪

Er . . . I hate to tell you this, Dido, but there's a possibility you may have been the victim of a one-night-stand. He might have sneaked off so he didn't have to deal with your unmade-up face and stinky morning breath. Then she goes on:

♪♪♪ I won't sleep, I can't breathe, until you're resting here with me ♪♪♪

You may be holding your breath a long time, mate, especially if you ARE a one-night stand! And, anyway, she's clearly being overdramatic as then she says:

♪♪♪I don't want to call my friends, they might wake me from this dream♪♪♪

Didn't you JUST say you weren't going to be sleeping? Make up your mind, girl!I actually have nothing against this song, or even (surprisingly, I know) Dido! But the lyrics are stupid. Sorry Dido - but don't worry, it's probably just me who thinks so . . .


Obviously, this is a song that crops up often in stupid lyrics lists, due to Alanis' recurrent misuse of the word "ironic", rather than "unfortunate". Of course "Isn't it unfortunate?" doesn't quite fit into the song (although "Unlucky" would - isn't THAT ironic?) so instead I have decided to pick on one of the examples that Alanis has used . . .

♪♪♪ Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye He waited his whole damn life to take that flight And as the plane crashed down he thought 'Well isn't this nice... ♪♪♪

Picture the scene - Mr Play It Safe, as Alanis has christened him, is on a plane and, due to his acute fear of flying, is already terrified before the plane has even left terra firma. He may have got drunk on the plane in order to deal with his fear, or even passed out. If he IS conscious when the plane begins its "DESCENT OF DEATH" (see, I can be overdramatic too, Dido!), his life will be flashing before his eyes, or he'll be too scared to even THINK about anything. I doubt he will have the capacity to consider the IRONY of the situation!

USHER - Yeah

Usher Raymond isn't exactly the most modest of dudes, right? He clearly thinks he is all that, and uses his songs as a showcase to let the world know how great he thinks he is. So to hear him sing:

♪♪♪ cos on a one to ten, she's a certified twenty, and that just ain't me ♪♪♪

is a little laughable, as he clearly thinks he is deserving of the highest calibre of girl, so why is he suddenly affecting such modesty? Hmmmm, unless of course he is trying to say that TWENTY isn't even good enough for him - in which case his head is even bigger than I realised!

Later on in the same song, Ludacris comes up with some even better (sorry, did I say better? I meant ludicrous!) lyrics . . .

♪♪♪ I won't stop till I get em in they birthday suits. So gimmie the rhythm and it'll be off with they clothes, then bend over to the front and touch your toes ♪♪♪

Shouldn't you at least find out their names before you see them from THAT angle???

VANILLA ICE - Ice Ice BabyOh, how I love this song - and I'm not even being ironic, I really do! It's catchy, it makes me remember being eleven years old and it's funny - particularly the lyrics . . .

♪♪♪ Turn off the light, and I'll glow ♪♪♪

Why? Have you been swallowing radioactive waste AGAIN? What did I tell you about that, Rob!!!!

♪♪♪ Anything less than the best is a felony ♪♪♪

Hmmm, so when is your court case for crimes against rap exactly?

♪♪♪ Take heed, cos I'm a lyrical poet ♪♪♪

Actually, I think you've proved quite the opposite. Still a good song though!

LFO - "Summer Girls"

This song could definitely be up for nomination for most random lyrics. Let's begin with the first three lines of the chorus:

♪♪♪ New Kids On The block had a bunch of hits/Chinese food makes me sick/And I think it's fly when girls stop by for the summer ♪♪♪

I'm assuming the relevant part of this is the part about the summer girls, given the title of the song. I think most people know that NKOTB had a "bunch of hits" (some of us can even NAME them!) and do we really need to know that the singer of this tune doesn't like chinese food? Unless he thought a whole bunch of fans were going to roll up to his house with a huge bag of chinese takeaway in order to show their love, and he thought he better warn them in advance, of course. I suppose it is a possibility, but then the lyrics get even more odd:

♪♪♪ Stayed all summer then went back home/Macaulay Culkin wasn't Home Alone/Fell deep in love, but now we ain't speakin/Michael J Fox was Alex P Keaton ♪♪♪

First of all, what does Macaulay Culkin and Michael J Fox have to do with ANYTHING in relation to this song? And secondly, Macaulay Culkin WAS Home Alone - or at least his character in the film was! They could at least have got their facts straight first.


♪♪♪ It's just a little crush/Not like I faint everytime we touch/It's just some little thing/Not like everything I do depends on you ♪♪♪

Well then Jen, how do you explain the hordes of boy-band obsessed girls who scream and faint if they get within ten feet of their idol? They're not in love, they have crushes on these guys.More importantly, how do you explain sixteen year old me carefully planning my route between classes every day in order to assume maximum viewing of the gorgeous sixth-year guy I had a crush on - even if it meant me going COMPLETELY OUT OF MY WAY! It was kinda like everything I did depended on him, weirdly enough.

But then, maybe I just have more problems than I realised.


Except, of course, for the one song which is chock-a-block full of ridiculous lyrics - "Jenny From the Block". Don't even get me started on that one!!!!


Oh and a PS - am I the only person who can't stand the singer Duffy? She seriously does my head in, as does her voice AND her music. And I don't know why . . .

Tuesday, 3 June 2008


No, I'm not talking about the Alanis Morrissette song. Which, like so many would agree, is a song about unluckiness, not irony. Which is ironic in itself, I suppose.

I'm actually talking about these . . .

Is this kind of sign not in fact a danger in itself?? I saw one in work the other day, one of those cone type ones, AND IT WAS RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR. Surely there must be a better way to warn someone to be careful and mind their footing, than to stick a big fuck-off obstacle in the place most likely to cause injury? Who actually thinks doing that is a GOOD idea? Seriously, I have no idea!

One day, I will fall headfirst over one of these things. No question about it. I'm not a particularly clumsy person (although those who have saw me fall over or walk into things might disagree) but considering the amount of times I come across this particular ilk of warning sign, the odds are stacked against me . . .

PS. I love this little saying/joke I found today:

Light travels faster than sound. That's why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

It's fab! :)

Sunday, 1 June 2008


First of all, can I just say my last post was in NO WAY meant to slag off Glasgow. I love Glasgow. I may not be a native weegie but I consider it my home, and the post was NOT about slagging off Glasgow, but in fact slagging off MYSELF for my virtually nonexistent consideration for my own safety while walking about, NOT ONLY in Glasgow, but everywhere else I may choose to go! Capisce??? (Is that how you spell it???)

Anyway, back to the subject in hand . . .

The scene: outside my friend's flat by the Clyde, yesterday afternoon. My friend is telling me about her goldfish, Vodka and Orange. This tale proves just how drunk I was last Sunday . . .

Me: Did I actually see your goldfish when I was over last weekend?

V: Are you kidding me???

Me: What???

V: You nearly broke their tank!!!

Me: WTF?

V: You tried to feed them and Vodka kept eating the food, so you started tapping the tank and telling it to go away and let Orange have some of it. Then, because he wasn't paying attention, you started slapping the tank with your hand! I kept telling you to stop, because if your ring had hit it the wrong way we would have had gallons of water all over the flat.

Me: But I . . .

V: Then you started pressing your nose and mouth right up against the glass and making faces at them. Not only were you scaring the fish, but by the time you were done, the glass was totally smeared with your hand and face prints! I had to give you a row!!!

Is it wrong that I don't remember any of this???

Oh, and just to prove that Glasgow isn't all bad . . .

Views from south side of the Clyde, both day and night . . .

The joys of the subway . . .

And where are you going to find a bigger fish than they ones they serve in THIS Glasgwegian establishment???

So there!!! :) :) :)