Tuesday, 30 September 2008


The world before reality tv took hold was a nicer place. Right? Now I feel like I'm sometimes trapped in tv hell - except sometimes I WANT to be there, it's just that I have better things to do and yet can't escape.

First it was "Big Brother". Man, I used to love that. I know there was other reality tv shows before that but, let's face it, it's at the forefront. It looked like so much fun - to me, it seemed like the ideal way to make new friends. I never really thought of what happened after they got OUT of the house. Then other shows began to emerge, hanging on BB's coat-tails. "American Idol", "Pop Idol", "X-Factor" . . . shows to make you a star, whether it was a supermodel, fashion designer, actor, comedian . . . They just keep coming. All those shows based in airports, or on airlines, or in hospitals, starring real life people going on with their real life jobs. Or how about the shows which purvey to be reality tv but are pre-empted by a disclaimer along the lines of "some scenes have been created for dramatic purposes" - hmmm. You know the ones I mean, huh? Like "The Hills" or "The Real World".

I can put up with most of these, to varying degrees, and have done for several thousand years now. The only reality tv shows that HUGELY get on my wick are those which feature so-called "celebs". Like "I'm a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here" or "Celebrity Love Island" (which in its second season was so full of non-celebs, ie celebrity sons or exes that they had to drop the "Celebrity" part from the title) or the celebrity version of "Strictly Come Dancing". It's all full of washed up celebs, glamour models, and wannabes. Who then somehow become famous again as a result.

Anyway, I shall step down off my soapbox now as a rant about crappy (and occasionally still addictive!) reality tv was not the intention of this post. Here is what is:

I've been told in the past by people that I would be great on "Big Brother". Ha. Seriously, a less true statement could not be spoken. Despite being recently told I am an attention seeker, this is not the case. Why?

  • I wouldn't even make it past the audition stage. Hell, I can barely make it through a group interview type situation because I can never get a word in.

  • If, say, I MANAGED to somehow, by some unbelievable fluke (like everyone who had more of a chance than me miraculously becoming ill) to make it through the audition process, I would then go into my "boring person mode" - ie. not having anything to say. People would turn off the tv in their droves, scared my non-personality was going to bore them to death.

  • I don't sleep well unless it's really dark.

  • I can't survive without reading materials. I would actually DIE OF BOREDOM myself.

  • I can't spend too much time with other people. If I don't get time to myself, I might turn to murder.

  • I don't have the kind of body where I could parade around half naked all the time - and I wouldn't particularly want to.

  • I have absolutely NO DESIRE to have people (ie cameras) watch me on the toilet. I don't care what I'm doing, be it peeing or worse. I'm notoriously pee-shy, and what the HECK happens when you're on the blob??? I'm not going into further detail with my worries here . . . *

  • I couldn't survive without fizzy juice. What if we had no money for it on our shopping list and no one else wanted it? Or what if they withheld it from me, KNOWING how much I wanted it??? I've seen that happen to people in that house before. Big Brother, after all, IS evil . . .

  • I really do NOT make a pretty picture first thing in the morning. I have a tendency not to remove my make up before going to bed. So I wake up with make up smeared on my face and a birds nest on my head that Russell Brand would be jealous of . . .

  • When I was drunk (which is inevitable) I would say something IMMENSELY stupid which would cause me to be hated by every person in the UK. I'd go from boring to controversial in one drunken sentence!

  • I wouldn't want to do any of those humiliating tasks that are usually forced upon the housemates. If I'm going to make a fool of myself, it has to be ALL ME (and alcohol).

  • I would probably end up drunkenly snogging someone and end up branded the show slut.

  • I can't do confrontation. If someone yelled at me, I would cry. A lot.

So basically I would be the housemate who is boring, constipated, alcoholic, constantly-saying-the-wrong-thing, desperate hoe-bag MESS and you know what??? I think I would prefer to keep that image of myself private.

Oh bugger, I've just told all of you about it though! Oh well . . .

Let me distract you with this week's installment of "Cheer Me Up Tuesday" - I've had a pretty crappy day today which wasn't so much due to the fact it was Tuesday (for a change!) and more to do with the fact that I felt completely like a fourth wheel in a team I've been in for nearly two years. Have you ever been in a situation where you feel like you're being actually PUSHED OUT, be it subconsciously or not? That it doesn't matter how hard you try, how much you work, everyone else is just appreciated more than you are??? THAT was my day, constantly. I spent a big chunk of it angry and another chunk of it trying not to cry. Anyway, here lies some toilet signs from around the world. Here are my favourites, hope you like them!!!

*I know that they won't show the footage of you on the toilet unless you were, say, peeing on another housemate. But they have to have the cameras on you, and that would just make me nervous . . .

Monday, 29 September 2008


I've been thinking about this post for a couple of weeks now, but never quite got around to doing it. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to post about it sooner. Perhaps because I can look at it all from a more detached perspective now? Who knows?

Anyway, this isn't a generic one-size-fits-all-BADLY approach . . . this is just my take on it. Perhaps you'll identify, perhaps not. I'm posting it anyway . . .

Music hurts too much. Silence is better, or laments of "how do I survive on my own?" and/or "How COULD he???". Because you suddenly find you can identify with EVERY SINGLE WORD OF EVERY SINGLE SONG. Whether it's the good memories in the happy love songs or the bad memories in the songs of heartbreak, it's impossible to just listen impartially. It's far easier to drown the pain, and the loathing, with alcohol and ranting.

Suddenly music starts to mean something again. But it has to be the sad songs you listen to - you need to indulge your misery, completely IMMERSE yourself in it. It makes sense, all of a sudden, to listen to Phil Collins and relate strongly to "Against All Odds" (I know, CRINGE!!!).

Or perhaps sing along to "All By Myself" Bridget-Jones-stylee, using your (usually empty - you're PISSED, after all!) bottle of wine as a microphone, singing to the rooftops until you burst into tears mid song and, overcome with emotion, fling yourself on your bed. It's safe to say that both emotionally and in terms of musical taste, this is NOT your finest hour . . .

This is where Kelly Clarkson first shows up. (Seriously, IS there a more bitter song than "Never Again"? I'm not sure). Lots of angry female singer-songwriters make an appearance, along with some angsty nu-metal a la Linkin Park as you start to feel yourself becoming more than a little mad.

Whether its at your ex, yourself or other people who have hurt you in the past, you aren't always sure. But, fuck it, you're MAD!!! And you need music that reflects that. That reflects the fury you feel, that convinces you that you AREN'T the only person who ever felt that way. You need that kind of reinforcement.

Admittedly some of the angry songs still feature in this stage, but perhaps you see the angry songs in a new light. Perhaps "Never Again" isn't quite bitter anymore so much as a way of asserting your independence and showing you're a stronger person as a result. (And, handily enough, Ms Clarkson has many songs that DO slot nicely into this stage - can you say "Since You Been Gone"???) And how about a bit of Destiny's Child? After all you can't dance along with "Independent Woman Part 1" or "Survivor" without feeling more than a little empowered, right? You're still here, you have survived it. You're now ready for . . .

You go back to liking the sort of music you always liked BEFORE you got hurt. Cool or not-so-cool, music is just music again, it doesn't rip you to your very core. It's a far safer place to be. Until the next guy/girl comes along . . .


Sunday, 28 September 2008


I've been tagged by the lovely LCT of Crazy Brit Heaven to do this meme. Couldn't have happened at a better time as I'm feeling lazy and distinctly uninspired today . . .

A. Attached or Single? Does one REALLY need to ask??? Single, of course, have been for quite a few months now. And I'm surprisingly okay with it.

B. Best Friend? My little sister. There's only twenty months between us so we've always been close. In fact last night I was apparently crying and telling her how she was my favourite person in the world and if she ever died I would die too! Which was a little overdramatic I know, but I'm tearing up thinking about it again. Man, I suck...

C. Cake or pie? Cake, definitely. Cream cakes in particular are a favourite of mine. I wish high calorie high carb things didn't make me as happy as they do. It's kinda fattening...

D. Day of choice? Basically any day I don't need to work. So Saturday and Sunday - unless I have to do overtime, that is!

E. Essential item? I think that would have to be my contact lenses. Just so I can, you know, SEE STUFF!!!

F. Favorite color? Pink, of course! Although I like most colours really as long as they're pretty . . .

G. Gummy bears or worms? I like both, although I generally feel a bit cruel eating either . . .

H. Hometown? Hamilton (South Lanarkshire, Scotland)

I. Favorite indulgence? Fizzy rose wine (Last night, for example, Echo Falls sparkling white zin - delicious!!!). And also chocolate.

J. January or July? July. January is actually my darkest month - literally and metaphorically speaking.

K. Kids? At the moment it's looking unlikely. Never say never and all that but I don't even feel able to look after MYSELF half the time, let alone someone else. I can't help but feel if I had a kid I'd probably misplace it under a big mound of clutter. Someone said to me the other day how they didn't realise how much their life would change when they had kids, but I'm very aware it would mean BIG changes for me and I'm just too selfish for that right now. It's probably a good thing I don't have a man and therefore no potential to be impregnated at the moment. Phew . . .

L. Life isn’t complete without? My friends and family, good food and good books.

M. Marriage date? I seriously don't see myself getting married. I am seemingly incapable of making a RELATIONSHIP last any period of time, so how would the MARRIAGE thing work??? Nah, not for me . . .*

N. Number of brothers and sisters? A younger sister and two younger brothers. I always say I have two brothers even though one of them died of cot death at three months old. I was about four at the time (it was Christmas eve 1983 it happened) so I still think now how he would be 25 now had he lived. I wish cot death didn't happen, it's so sad.

O. Oranges or Apples? I like both, but apples are certainly easier to munch on!

P. Phobias? I don't think I have any actual PHOBIAS but there's lots of things I'm scared of. Spiders, you will already know about from my post the other day. Cockroaches. Snakes. Planes (or, more appropriately, planes CRASHING!) High buildings - even before 9/11. Being murdered. And so on . . .

Q. Quotes? I like silly quotes, nothing too deep and meaningful. You know, like "60% of the time, it works everytime" or "I wanna be on you". (Anchorman) Or various Friends quotes which, like I say, can be pulled out for pretty much any occasion.My favourite quote from a song at the moment which I deem to be quite true is from "Take it like a Man" by Dragonette "Everything worth it hurts a little bit."

R. Reasons to smile? I'm a bad smiler. I'm more one of those people who random builders etc shout at to order me to cheer up a bit. (Which causes me to want to lamp them). That's just the way my face is unfortunately. But I'm often happy on the inside, honest!!! And if someone tells me a funny joke or story, or sends me a funny email or text, more often than not that will cause a smile. Or would that be more of a SMIRK??? Hmmm, same difference I guess . . .

S. Season of choice? I was about to say summer, then I realised it was probably actually spring. Summer tends to be a disappointment, where spring has potential. At that point you have the hope that the coming summer season will be lovely. And after winter, spring is such a nice change. Lighter, warmer, far less depressing . . .

T. Tag 5 people: I'm not going to tag anyone but if anyone wants to try this off their own back, feel free! And let me know you've done it so I can check it out . . .

U. Unknown fact about me? I never went to a gig until I was 23. (And the first gig I went to was Linkin Park)

V. Vegetable? I actually like far more vegetables than I ever realised, mainly the green variety. Brocolli, asparagus, cabbage, brussel sprouts (why do so many people not like these?), cauliflower, sweetcorn, cherry tomatoes, carrots (only raw though, can't abide them cooked), peppers, onions, mushroom (do they count as a vegetable? I know they're fungus or something really - I try not to let that put me off them).
I'm fully aware I was not meant to just start listing vegetables but I have no clear cut favourite and like all of the above!

W. Worst habit? It's a bit gross I know, but I have a tendency to scrape off my nail polish with my teeth if it starts to chip and I can't pick it off with my fingers easily. Oh, and I'm a pen-chewer. Yes. One of those . . .

X. X-ray or Ultrasound? I've never had either, so I don't really feel like I have enough information to choose!

Y. Your favorite food? Green and Blacks organic milk chocolate.

Z. Zodiac sign? Libra. And in a lot of ways I'm a typical Libra . . . **

*I wouldn't mind the white dress and diamond ring though. Could I have those WITHOUT getting married???

**And in a lot of ways, I'm not . . .

Saturday, 27 September 2008


. . . I have decided I will need to post about "Guitar Hero".



Anyway this need to prove myself comes after I read my friend M's not-too-positive review of Katy Perry's album on the ciao review website. I defended the album, saying I actually thought it was pretty good, and she asked what had happened to me, she had thought her and A had managed to convert me to a rock chick in Belfast.

So since M does occasionally swing past this blog, I thought I would show her there's still a bit of a rock chick inside by posting my favourite Guitar Hero songs (not me performing them, sadly, I've plugged that youtube clip quite enough by now!)

My favourite for the Wii version can be found here and my favourite on the DS can be found here. I've posted the vids for these on my blog before so not posting them again! (Yes, much like the aforementioned youtube clip. you CAN have too much of a good thing . . . )

In no particular order, here are the others . . .

In the Wii corner, "Miss Murder" by AFI.

In the DS corner, Bloc Party's "Helicopter". I only wish this was on the Wii too because I would soooo rock it on the Wii guitar. . .

Now THIS one is probably my favourite for the Wii - after Superbus, obviously!!! It's virtually impossible to get it 100% spot on, but it's so much fun to play and I have managed to get past 200,000 scorewise which is impressive considering I was actually too scared to even ATTEMPT it in Belfast. M will vouch for my utter brilliance at this one now - I think she was truly amazed by my Dragonforce prowess . . .

And last but not least, a little blast from the past courtesy of the DS version . . .

"Jessie's Girl" by Rick Springfield. Which is not only just easy enough to give my hand a bit of a break after playing Incubus repeatedly, it also reminds me of one of my favourite cheesy films . . .

Oh shite, I totally just ruined my newly-resurrected rock goddess status again by admitting that, didn't I???

Friday, 26 September 2008


Miss Pussycat Doll 2008.

That's where I was last night.

As far as I'm aware, this was in no way affiliated with the ACTUAL Pussycat Dolls. Although given it involved dancing like strippers and wearing very little clothing while doing so, I guess it had SOME similiarities.

I should clarify at this point, I wasn't actually taking part in such an event. I was merely observing. My friend C (who I noticed when I linked to the page has actually left a couple of comments on there) thought it might be fun and I had to agree. It did sound like a good laugh.

I've never seen so much orange skin and bad hair extensions in one place. And, trust me, in Glasgow there's generally a fair amount of both.

There were six girls competing for the title, and the prize of a years glamour modelling contract. Not entirely sure why this was really related to how well you could dance but I guess it was meant to be entertaining. The thing is, we ran into an old friend of C's who lived near to us in our old flat and he was there to cheer on two girls from his college. Drama students. Let's face it, they were ringers for sure. The thing I've always found with drama students is they are all-rounders. They tend to be able to act, more often than not they can sing . . . and they've pretty much always had some sort of dance training at SOME point.

In the first round it wasn't immediately obvious though. The girls all came out and were introduced by the compere, who was a dj from our local radio station Clyde 1. It was quite hard to even understand what most of the girls were saying. A little foreign dude jumping up and down trying to see next to me turned to me at one point after one girl was asked her most embarrassing moment and asked "What did she just say?" I leaned down (for he really WAS that small - mind you, I was also wearing heels for a change!) and enunciated "She sent a rude text meant for her boyfriend to her dad." (Haven't we all???*)

Then after being introduced they had to do their best catwalk style walk up and down the floor. That was fun to watch. (Seriously, it was a bit of a giggle).

But then came time for the dancing. Each girl had to do two minute-long routines that they had choreographed themselves. Immediately it became obvious that most of them had apparently cast themselves as strippers with their skimpy outfits and props. The first four were straddling chairs, gyrating against the wall . . . one even had a cane! (I should add the disclaimer that none of them were bad dancers though - they did have the sort of moves that others would envy on the dance floor, just perhaps not in an ACTUAL dance contest!) Then the drama students showed them up with actual PROPER dance routines that looked like they'd actually spent some time choreographing . . . and, most importantly of all, they were REALLY REALLY GOOD.

The second round seemed to involve dance tunes and this time the girls seemed to have uniformly decided to writhe about on the floor while wearing even less clothes. With the exception of the drama students who once again wowed us. The last girl in particular was incredible, her routine even involved what appeared to be breakdancing moves. Me and C had been cheering them on anyway since they were the only ones remotely linked to us, but this girl 100% deserved the cheers.

She won. Unsurprisingly. The weird thing was though she had to have been one of the most unlikely looking people to win a glamour modelling contract. She was a really pretty girl but in more of a tiny, doll-like way than anything else, and her outfits had been more practical for dancing than sexy. Go figure.

All in all though, it was a great night.

And as for the evil bar stool mentioned in the title? Yes, it made me fall off it. It was absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact I'd already had several glasses of wine, oh no! It was fully the bar stool's fault. I promise. And it wasn't embarrassing AT ALL . . . **

*Actually I haven't. Have you?

**And I DIDN'T bruise my bum. Honest.

Thursday, 25 September 2008


Frozen in terror, I stared over at my bed in horrified silence. "Go away, please go away" I beamed my thoughts telepathically over to the massive spider which had just appeared and ran up onto my covers.

"Grrr," he said back. *

"Please - just leave me alone" I begged.


I hate spiders. I don't think i have a phobia but I am pretty terrified of them. Which always seems a bit odd given they're like a fraction of my size. But there you go. To me, they're less friendly innocent "Charlottes" and more the giant furry terrors in "Eight Legged Freaks." Something about the way they scutter across the ground, invade their way into our private space . . . it offends me more than it does with moths or slaters or bees. They're just creepy.

In fact, I think, sometimes, that they may be the devil's minions, sent to cause the end of the world. At the moment, they're just scoping the place out, reporting back to their leader. One day, havoc will ensue.

I'm telling you.

Anyway, so last night I had my first encounter with a spider for a good few years. I had just got home from a nice night out, slightly tipsy, curled up on my sofa with my laptop for a leisurely hour of internet browsing before bedtime . . . and then Incy Wincy himself arrived. And proceeded to stare me out for the next five minutes as I curled myself into a protective ball and tried not to look.

That little bugger was just not for moving though. He KNEW I was scared and was determined to sit it out. I contemplated all the things I could do. Smother him with a tissue? No, I might feel his body through the tissue and that would freak me out and I'd probably end up dropping him. Plus I might end up with bits of dead spider on my bed. Kick the bed so he ran away? Try hitting him with something?

Finally he scuttled off the bed. And then I realised this was possibly worse. Why?


I ended up sleeping fully dressed (with my shoes still on!) with my head under the covers, the door to my bedroom wedged open in the hope that Incy Wincy would head for a different room. Whether he did or not, I have no idea.

He may still be in here right now . . . **

*Yes, spiders DO go "grrrr"!

**"Right now" is 6pm. Which won't be when this is published. At time of publishing I'll be somewhere random. You may hear more about that tomorrow . . .

Wednesday, 24 September 2008


. . . to Elle's blog, Pipe Dreams and Professions, where I've guest-posted regarding my failed attempt at being a bestselling author (ten years ago now - scary!!!) . . . so check it out!!!

And perhaps just regard my previous post. That was a non-alcoholic ramble and, amazingly, my mind seems far clearer apres a night out avec booze. Go figure. Don't dwell in the past, that's my new motto. What's the point? It's not gonna change feelings or whatever. Life is what it is, and we have to deal with it.

Blah blah blah. Go read my guest post. Seriously. It'll make you feel less of a loser.

I promise.

ps. Yes, I'm aware I am a shameless plugger. You got something to say about it???

TIME . . .

It's a funny thing, isn't it?

They say time heals, and I guess that's true; things DO get better with time. But it also plays tricks on you. For example, sometimes I can remember ONLY the good things and get nostalgic, wishing for the past back. Then I have to FORCE myself to remember the bad stuff that went hand in hand with the good - not because I particularly WANT to, but just to remind myself that it's better the way it is now.

But sometimes it's difficult. Because the good memories were just so nice. And they will always remain the most vivid.

I'm rambling. Never mind - it was just a thought!

Tuesday, 23 September 2008


I bought a LOOK magazine yesterday and couldn't resist looking at the horrorscopes - sorry, horoscopes, freudian slip I guess! Anyway, I always have to read my horoscope - not because I believe in astrology, but because I find the whole thing hilarious generally. The beauty of horoscopes is that they are all so vague that you can pretty much apply them to almost anything going on in one's life at that moment in time.* And you can also guarantee that, given the amount of people in the world, at least one of each sign will have found a fairly accurate prediction at least one time in their lives - its like the laws of fate and stuff, right? (Okay, I don't know exactly what I'm talking about - RUMBLED! Anyway, you know what I mean!)

So I reached Libra and started reading it out as I'm a Libra (less than two weeks to go to the big 2-9, y'all - argh!) and so were two of the guys sitting with me.

"Single or attached, this is a brilliant time for your love life. You're feeling excited about the future and people are drawn to your positive outlook. Talk about your plans with someone close - you may find they feel the same way. An unusual event is too good to miss. LOOKout: A Gemini from your past gets back in touch this week."

I read this with more than a dose of skepticism, as usual. The guys were laughing as I explained I didn't actually believe in this crap, but all the same, we began to theorise about what events in our life this could relate to.

After discussing this, we came to the logical conclusion - that OBVIOUSLY the three of us were going to have a threesome and a Gemini was going to join us. But surely this was far-fetched???

"What does Gemini's horoscope say?" one of the guys asked, figuring we could see if it matched up to our theory.

"Let's see," I scanned the page.

"Social life looks brilliant . . . say yes to all invites . . . someone sexy wants to flirt with you . . . HERE!!! someone has a tempting offer for you. It's too good to turn down."

Okay, we concluded. Looked like it was orgy time!

Doesn't this prove JUST how vague a star sign is, that we managed to turn it into that??? I have to say I was fairly impressed with our deduction skills on this. (Not to mention our filthy minds, I might add!)

That over with, I turned to one of the other non-Libran guys at the table. "So what's your star sign," I asked him, my finger poised over the page to find the relevant one.

He grinned.



And Cheer-Me-Up Tuesday comes today courtesy of two things. Firstly a text** I just received from my friend:

Married couple in their sixties are visited by a fairy who grants them both a wish. "I want to travel around the world with my darling husband" said the wife. Two tickets for a luxury cruise magically appear in her hands. The husband says "Sorry love but my wish is to have a wife thirty years younger than me." So the fairy waves her wand and the husband becomes 92.

And a classic clip from one of my favourite shows . . .

*If anyone wants to share the best horoscope they've seen of their own starsign, please feel free!!!

**Which I have kindly translated from txt spk to ENGLISH! (You're welcome!)

Monday, 22 September 2008


Last week, while I was helping one of my flatmates download music onto her MP3 player, one of our other flatmates popped in. "Do you have a lighter?" she asked in passing. "I'm just cleaning my room and I want to light a couple of scented candles to make it smell a bit better."

"Sure," Flatmate 1 said. "It's around here somewhere."

Flatmate 2 started searching for it, but was unable to unearth it. "Paula, do YOU have one?" she asked.

"Yeah, just give me a minute." I was stalling. At that point I wasn't sure why. I gave it another couple of minutes of pretending the downloading was at an urgent stage and I couldn't leave and then, when it was clear the other lighter wasn't appearing, I reluctantly headed down the hall to my room and retrieved my own.

Flatmate 2 headed off with it and I felt strangely nervous. After a couple of minutes, I said to Flatmate 1 "This is going to sound really weird but I'm worried I'm not going to get my lighter back."

She looked at me like I was a bit of a weirdo and then she started laughing. "Oh my god, that is TOTALLY YOUR THING!" she gasped out between giggles. "You know, like I'm obsessively tidy? You're obsessed with not losing your things to other people."

I realised she was right. The weird thing is, it's not really the bigger things that worry me, like the jewellery or clothes, even the dvds and cds and books. There's certain ones I'm kinda precious about, but quite a few of my belongings are scattered all over Glasgow and its vicinity. I think my sister has about 20 of my dvds and I didn't realise until the last time I was over. I've lent out countless books that have never been returned to me, and I haven't sweated it. It's the ODD things that obsess me.

Take the lighter for example. You would think perhaps, from my paranoia that it wouldn't be returned to me, that I smoke.

I don't.

"Why do you need it anyway?" Flatmate 1 asked me.

I shrugged. "I might want to light some candles."

"You're not even in your own ROOM right now," she countered, shaking her head at me.

I just think having a lighter is a useful thing to have, okay?

Just like my corkscrew. I went on holiday once and came back to find it on a flatmate's bedroom floor. What if it had gone missing? How would I have drank wine? Would I have to have bought an entire new one? Would I have to drink out of screw top bottles for the rest of my life?

But it's in the office my freaky possession obsession REALLY kicks in.

Remember how upset I was recently when I discovered my gluestick in work had been given away? I probably wouldn't even have noticed if it wasn't for the fact I had managed to papercut my tongue but the point was . . . IT WAS MY GLUESTICK AND I NEEDED IT IN CASES SUCH AS THIS!!!*

Similarly I nearly freaked out inwardly one day last week when I saw one of my colleagues taking my scissors while I was sitting at another desk . . . and then noticed later he hadn't put them back. It had been all I could think about for like AN HOUR, and eventually I tried to ask in a casual voice if he still had my scissors to remind him he'd taken them. I think I missed the "casual" tone by a fairly wide mark.

I had a similar incident with my stapler when another co-worker kept borrowing it - to the point where I actually went and found (stole?) a stapler someone had left lying around and handed it to the colleague in question. "Was my borrowing your stapler annoying you?" he asked, clearly seeing right through me straight away. (To be honest, I think the fact I kept trying to put it out of his reach should have been the first giveaway) "Oh not at all!" I said airily. "I just thought it sucked you didn't have your own stapler." He laughed at that and said "Oh, I have TWO actually, I just can't be bothered going and getting them." (Yes, he DID nearly get lamped.)

I'm not sure why there are certain possessions that I'm more freaked out about losing than others. Any ideas?

FYI, in the end I DID get my lighter back. Flatmate 1 popped in to see Flatmate 2 about something and when she came back she said "No need to panic, I've got your lighter." Ten minutes later, I realised I didn't know where it was and looked about in a panic. "Did you GIVE me my lighter back?" I asked in a faux-casual tone. "It's right next to you Paula," she replied, picking it up and rolling her eyes. Ooops.

Yes, I think I have a problem.

*And no, I wasn't trying to glue the cut on my tongue together!!!

Sunday, 21 September 2008


I don't watch a massive amount of television. I used to when I was younger and had no life. But nowadays, not so much. I don't really GET when people say "Oh the new series of X is starting, I can't wait". Once again I USED to get it, but nowadays (say it with me) . . . not so much!

I think this is because I'm clearly developing commitment issues.

You see, becoming a fan of a TV programme can be a complicated process - much like dating. First of all, you have to find one that catches your eye. (Luckily this is where tv programmes have the edge over people, because you tend to find a lot more people raving about them than potential guy or gal friends!)

Then you have to establish whether you're both available at the same time. Say the show is on every Wednesday night at nine pm. Is this suitable for you? No? How about this other show, it's on at three pm on a Saturday afternoon? No? Is the show repeated at any point which will be more suitable for you? Do you have another way of potentially hooking up with this show if none of the times are suitable? (VCR, DVR, watching online?) Do you have the motivation to work out an alternative or are you just going to give up at the start line? Decide now. Are you in or out?

Then you have to commit to watching the show. Because if you miss an episode of it, you may find it difficult to catch up. And what with the vast amounts of channels available these days, it's not always easy to remember what is on at what time and where. And, to be perfectly honest, are you really wiling to schedule your social life around your favourite TV show?

Like with relationships, some shows can SEEM appealing until you actually start paying attention to them. You can get excited about one, thinking it looks like an interesting prospect, then watch one or two episodes and realise it really isn't all that. That the hype was . . . well, OVERHYPED. "Ugly Betty" springs to mind as my top example of this. I looked forward to my date with it for weeks before it started and then just felt let down when I actually watched it. Our relationship ended fairly quickly.

Other shows can get off to a good start with you, and you can like them for a significant amount of time, then one day something goes wrong. Perhaps they bring in a character you can't stand to watch on screen, or say something you completely disagree with that makes you not want to have anything to do with them anymore. Or perhaps they move on to greener pastures without you even wanting them to (like when Channel Four lost the rights to "Lost" - ironic? - and it ended up with Sky 1 and I could no longer watch it anymore)!

These days anyway, at least it's getting less complicated to watch tv shows I might like. There's better ways to do it now, I've found. For example, you can buy a boxset of a show you're potentially interested in and watch it greedily in a matter of days, much like a heady glorious fling that's over in a short period of time but utterly memorable and fantastic with it. Or you can find somewhere to download it online and dip in whenever you need a fix (I'm not going to compare that to anything, you can probably work out what I mean). It's probably better this way.

Right now, for example, I'm having a fling with "House". Yum. I never really got the House thing, and was unwilling to commit, but I had one brief encounter with him a while back (at my flatmate's insistence and I had nothing better to do - so blame her!) and was mildly interested, so decided to give him another go. I've spent a large chunk of the past day or so catching up with him and I'm quite hooked. Perhaps after series one is over, I'll let him go for a bit, have a fling with someone else (I never quite got a chance to get into "Grey's Anatomy" either and have the first season of that on dvd too) and then perhaps dive into another fling with him at a later date. Or perhaps I'll move on completely to something else?

The best thing of all. The tv shows don't even get a CHOICE in the matter. I'm in COMPLETE control . . .

Saturday, 20 September 2008


To be honest, I'm a little disappointed I don't have more interesting search terms than these. But these are the best of a bad bunch I guess . . .

my sister has big boobs and i can't stop stairing at them (yes, "stairing" - the new "staring"?)

"you look smart today" (thank you!)

insane brain tests (I think I passed that one anyway . . .)

my ballet desperate for the loo (Huh? Is it a ballet about being desperate for the loo? Cos I'm not sure who would go to see that . . . )

my job interview desperate for the loo (I'm sensing a theme here . . .)

my receptionist desperate for the loo (maybe you should let her go then? to the toilet I mean!)

woman who aren't afriad to insert contact lenses (obvious spelling error aside, that certainly sums ME up!)

you totally got it!! (got what exactly???)

Can I tell you something that's bugging me? These people slagging off Travis Barker and DJ AM. Don't get me wrong, I barely know who they are and aren't a fan of either of them. But people laughing about them getting burnt in the plane crash? (See some of the comments here to see what I mean.) That's seriously not cool. Four people died, those two barely escaped with their lives, and people are JOKING about it??? Fuck sake, NO ONE deserves this.

Anyway, rant over, sorry. That was just really bugging me, I read those comments and it really pissed me off. Man, I almost wish it was Tuesday cos I could use a cheer up. Fuck it, who cares, I'll find one anyway. (Something to cheer me up, I mean, not a Tuesday. I know where that is, after all - just a couple of days away!).

These are pretty good.

And this clip always makes me laugh . . .


. . . is what I feel right now, since I'm only recently home from doing a six am til one pm overtime shift in work. After not much sleep last night.

I've already learned some lessons this weekend . . .

  • passing out on the couch when you arrive home drunk actually makes it MORE likely you're going to be able to get up early to do aforementioned overtime. Why? Well, when you wake up in the middle of the night after passing out you basically have three options - stay there (which is kind of uncomfortable), get up and move to the bed, or just get up full stop. It almost seemed easiest to just get up in the end!
  • my work fob does not work before siz am
  • and right now I'm fucking STARVING!!!

Anyway, that's it really! Currently waiting for the oven to warm up so I can stick my frozen pizza in. I was GOING to order a Dominos then realised it would be more economically sound of me to buy a pizza from the shop for a quarter of the cost. (Am I growing up???) I COULD have plans tonight but don't think I have the energy so you'll probably hear from me again later (sorry!).

In the meantime, I think I'll finishing watching "The Inbetweeners", a programme one of my friends loaned me. It's pretty funny . . .

Friday, 19 September 2008


I've been invited to meet my friend's dog at the weekend. I was quite excited about the invite. :)

Me: Will he like me?
My friend: Yes I'm sure he will.
Me: Can I pretend to be a dog? I'll get on all fours and woof at him.
My friend: (uncertainly) Er - if you want to?
Me: What? Won't he like that?
My friend: Well, I don't know, humans don't generally pretend to be dogs in front of him.
Me: (disappointedly) Oh right.

I honestly don't understand why not . . . :(

*Seriously, soooo cannot wait to see how many people looking for porn pop by the site due to this title, hehe!

Thursday, 18 September 2008


I literally don't have the energy to post anything original tonight. I had so many ideas, and tried to type them but it didn't work. Who the fuck cares right? I could type a million funny things and it wouldn't mean anything right?? So whatever.

So here you go. Unoriginality-and-who-really-gives-a-fuck-dot-com . . .

And also I want to say about a new band I have found courtesy of Jessica Maria of Tried to Live Forever Everyday of the Year . . . Dragonette. I got their album after checking out their myspace and it rocks. It may actually be my favourite album of the year! You need examples??? No problemo . . .

Wednesday, 17 September 2008


I have a tendency to suffer severe rage at other people, particularly when they get in my way. Words that frequently emerge in a furious undertone from my mouth are phrases such as "I swear to GOD, if she does not get out of my personal space RIGHT NOW, I will snap her in half like a twig." I'm possibly not really capable of this, but in my head I am.

Back when I was a kid, a couple of the boys in school called me Tyson. I think they meant this ironically, in retrospect, but at the time I thought I was pretty damn tough. Possibly T-U-F-F rather than T-O-U-G-H. I would sort of square up to them and kinda jump up and down with my fists pointed at them. Did I actually HIT them? Of course not. I didn't want to get, like SUSPENDED or something. Plus they were BOYS - if they hit back??? Really, I just wanted some attention when it came down to it.

Anyway, today I was having an argument with a couple of male friends over whether or not I could beat someone up. They seemed rather doubtful of my ability. Okay, so I've never HAD to do it. But I believe I COULD, and isn't that the important thing??? The BELIEF you can lamp someone if you had to, or have them doubled over in pain? I may not be the type to throw the first punch, but I am pretty sure I could defend myself should the need arise.

Can you imagine it? Me going "Yes, I know tae-bo" (in the same smug way someone might say "I'm a black belt, you know" before roundhousing your head off) and then launching into some routine straight from the dvd- say two knee lifts, a side kick and a punch, which all miss their target because I'm not used to actually hitting anyone, despite constantly imagining certain person's faces in my head when I right hook and upper-cut thin air.

Okay, perhaps nix the tae-bo idea, but I could certainly inflict some damage I think. I may only be small but I believe I would pack a powerful punch.



Before going to bed last night I threatened to lamp various people on someone's behalf, slagged off someone's velour tracksuit (which may or may not have existed) and also created a post that didn't make all that much sense. The first line about not being able to win anything as a kid? I don't know what I was on about. I won TONS of stuff as a kid. All very odd.

I think now I've cut down on my drinking (slightly!) it affects me more when I DO drink, Don't think I even drank that much last night. That being said, I don't really remember how much I DID drink so the point may be slightly moot. Or is it a moo point??? (Sorry I really wanted to watch that clip).

Oh well. Off to work I go. :(

Tuesday, 16 September 2008


Back when I was a kid I didn't have the ability to win stuff, let alone be really cool. Do you remember martika??? Just wondering. I LOVED her. Of all the songs people transferred from vinyl to cassette for me, Martika stuck in my head. Why? WHY NOT???

Did you like Martika??? If you did, let me know I wasn't the only one . . .


Hopefully this will make you laugh . . .

A new priest was so nervous at his first mass, he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done. The monsignor replied, "When I am worried about getting nervous on the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. So the next Sunday, he took the monsignor`s advice. At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink. He proceeded to talk up a storm. Upon his return to his office after mass, he found the following note on the door:
1) Sip the vodka, don`t gulp.
2) There are 10 commandments, not 12.
3) There are 12 disciples, not 10.
4) Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.
5) Jacob wagered his donkey; he did not bet his ass.
6) We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.
7) The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy, Junior and the Spook. 8) David slew Goliath; he did not kick the shit out of him.
9) When David was hit by a rock and knocked off his donkey, don`t say he was stoned off his ass.
10) We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T."
11) When Jesus broke the bread at the Last Supper he said, "Take this and eat it for it is my body......." He did not say, "Eat me."
12) The Virgin Mary is not called "Mary with the Cherry."
13) The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub, Thanks for the grub, yeah God.
14) Next Sunday, there will be a taffy pulling contest at St. Peter`s, not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy`s.

Monday, 15 September 2008


My friend M and I were meeting up yesterday. I hadn't saw her since Belfast, which is ridiculous considering we live about five minutes away from one another and I'd missed her birthday so offered to take her out for drinks. We decided to go to a pub for a bit then take some bottles of wine back to mine and play the wii, since I'm still in possession of it.

As we walked down Byres Road I realised I should get batteries before the shops shut, just in case the batteries in one of the wii controllers ran out. And, let's face it, a girl can always use some batteries. I've been having a bit of a battery crisis of late, constantly taking them out of one thing to put in another, then back again. So buying new batteries made sense. We popped into Woolworths, located the batteries and took them up to the counter, where we proceeded to get involved in one of the oddest conversations I've ever had with a shop assistant.

Guy behind counter: Hello. How are you?
Me: (not used to such politeness) Great, thanks, yourself?
Guy: Not bad, yeah. Are you having a nice day?
Me: Um - yeah, I guess.
M: Yeah, we're just going to the pub.
Guy: Lucky you. Wish I was.
Me: (feeling like I should ask in return) So how's your day been? Or is that a stupid question, since you're working?
Guy: You know, my day hasn't been so bad. Except that idiot over there (pointed over at a fellow member of staff two tills over) is absolutely DOING MY HEAD IN. See him? That ginger speccy thing??? I want to kill him.
(The guy in question is listening to every word we say. Neither me nor M are sure whether or not this is a joke. M evidently decides to take it as one.)
M: Well, if you need an alibi, we'll help you out with that.
Me: (inside my head, hoping M is psychic) Don't drag ME into this. I'm not being an alibi for him, joke or not!
Guy: Thanks very much, that's really nice of you.
(hands me my change)
Guy: Now, if you feel like it, just throw your receipt at him or something on the way out, show him just how annoying he is, okay?

We left the shop, laughing at the randomness of the conversation.

M: That other guy didn't know where to look, I just kinda waved at him as we were leaving, he was looking a bit scared.
Me: Was he? Um - that might have been cos I sort of shook my fist at him as we walked past!

M then looked at me like I was the psycho.

I guess I got carried away. Mob mentality and all that . . .

Sunday, 14 September 2008


I've been "officially" awake since twenty past eight this morning. On a Sunday.

I say officially because I was actually awake for most of the night, drifting in and out of slightly confused slumber. My official point of awakeness came at the point where I gave up trying to get back to sleep and just got up, albeit just to retrieve my laptop and bring it back to my bed.

Several things kept me awake. For one thing, girl pains. Unlike other females who tend to get their cramps BEFORE they start their period, mine come after it starts. So it started during the night and the pain was doubling me over a bit. It's still a little uncomfortable now, but not as bad as it once was.

The other thing was that I left the tv on last night. My flatmate came in late on last night to say that there was a documentary on More4 about the woman who pretended to be a 9/11 survivor when she wasn't even in the country on the day it happened. So even though I was half asleep and didn't have my contact lenses in, I decided to lie there with my eyes closed and listen to it. Obviously I fell asleep before I found out how she got rumbled (don't worry, I looked it all up this morning after I "woke up"!) but I didn't sleep for long.

Apparently after the More4 channel closes down for the night, it's possibly taken over by some shopping channel which starts playing infomercials. I think. This may not be the case. I may have imagined it. I may or may not have made up an entire advert for an eighties cd which was playing over and over on a loop as I lay there half-conscious. I just know I kept thinking drowsily "Man, I totally forgot about that track, it was awesome, I need to download it from somewhere!"

I may also have made up an entire documentary also from the eighties. I just remember I kept hearing something I remember going vaguely like - "What's your name? Sean. Where do you live? Above you." Does this make sense to anyone? It was directed by someone famous too apparently and I think it was about an eight year old boy. Or he might have been twelve. I'm not actually all that sure.

I really did make it up, didn't I???

Oh well, at least the stomach pains are almost gone. And now I'm planning on going on another shopping spree (had a successful one yesterday). Not right at this moment obviously, as I am wearing no make up, a towel on my head and a dressing gown, but in the near future. I'll update you on how successful it is later, after I've shopped and possibly had a couple of drinks!!!

And I'll leave you with one of the few songs I remember from this possibly imagined eighties cd advert - here!

Saturday, 13 September 2008


Yesterday afternoon I was sitting at my desk in the office, minding my own business, when one of my colleagues came up to me. "Paula, can you send me your Tinkerbell screensaver thing?" she asked. "I saw it earlier and I really want it for my pc."

"No worries," said I. "I'm not really sure how to send it though?"

"If you can just give me the link, that would be fine," she replied. "I can work it out for myself from there."

As she walked away, one of the guys on my team started laughing. He was there the day I put Tinkerbell on as my wallpaper. "She wants Tinkerbell too then?" he commented, with a distinct tone of mocking in evidence.

"Hey!" I protested. "You can't fight the fairy!" (I'm not sure why, it just came out).

He laughed harder.

Then I remembered that there is a gay guy in my department and I didn't want him to think that I was talking about him (it's funny the things that cross your mind sometimes). I was eager to remedy this.

"I mean, because they have magic wands!" I said.

"Indeed!" he replied, his laughter getting louder.

Yes, in my own special way, I made things worse . . .

And speaking of worse . . .

I don't even remember doing this, but last night in the pub I was sitting next to a guy I didn't know. Okay, I remember THAT much. I even remember asking, for a joke, if he was really friends with the guy who had brought him out or if the guy in question had just hired him to pretend to be his friend.

I thought that was actually quite funny. I would, I said it after all. What I don't remember is saying to him

"Well if you like him you must like to shag dead people."

Seriously, why would anyone say such a thing? Yet, I have it on good authority that I did. I can't even think back in my head as to a logical explanation why I would say such a thing though. Remember in my previous post how I said I quite often say things that are a little inappropriate. Well, I went WAAAAYYYY past the line on this occasion and I'm mortified. (not mort as in the french version of dead, I should clarify). I can be such an idiot sometimes!!!

Friday, 12 September 2008


I'm not actually physically here at my laptop right now. I have planned this post in advance because I actually have a life tonight and am therefore meant to be going out. Didn't want to leave you high and dry, you see. Ain't I a thoughtful one??? So, as you read this (if you are in fact reading it at the time of posting) I should currently (and hopefully!) be standing at a bar (Stavka in Sauchiehall Street, as far as I'm aware) with a glass of vino in one hand and perhaps a shot glass of Baileys in the other? I hope. Perhaps there may even be hot guys there? Unlikely (it is Glasgow, after all!) but you never know. Miracles do occasionally happen. Still, as long as there's booze, food (because let's face I am gonna need to line my stomach), good friends and some banter to be had, I'll be happy. Simple pleasures and all that.

So there's this big blog meet up being planned and I'm not going. I'm trying not even to think about it, or look at any of the plans regarding it because, frankly, part of me is a bit gutted I can't attend. But how can I? It's going to be in Boston or Chicago* and I live in Glasgow! I'm sad about this. I mean, part of me feels like saying "Forget those two cities, choose Glasgow, for fucks sake! It'll be great. I have a couch in my room, someone can sleep on that. There's space on my floor, I have tons of throws and a million pillows, bring a sleeping bag, you'll be sorted. As for the space next to me in my bed - well that's reserved for any hot available single bloggers of the male variety. But be warned, it's only a queen-sized one and I'm used to sleeping alone so you might get whacked in the face a bit."

But I really don't think it's do-able. Sorry everyone! I know you were actually considering it there, but it's a no go I'm afraid.

Can I tell you a secret though?

I think part of me is a bit relieved that I can't attend.

Because I'm actually pretty boring in real life.

Seriously. (I bet you're in shock, but it's true.)

The thing is, if you know me well in real life, I can appear to be quite loud and chatty. But really I'm not. I'm actually pretty damn shy. And when I am in a room of people I don't actually know? I clam up. I can't think of anything to say, and if I do think of something to say, I either fuck it up by stammering, nervous that all eyes are on me, or I can't quite get the words to leave my mouth.

So if I was in a roomful of chatty blogging buds, I would suddenly find myself with absolutely nothing to say. Zilch. Nada. I'd be sitting there like a dummy, looking around, possibly on the verge of tears while you all shot brilliant dazzling one-liners at one another and exchanged witty repartee. You would be looking at me with pity, like I was that kid in school who always wet herself in class (which I wasn't, I feel I should add). You'd probably try to include me in the conversation, because I imagine you're all very nice that way. But you would probably not get much out of me. I'd just mumble some incoherent semblance of a sentence and start desperately searching for a way of escaping.

And if you did manage to crack the elusive combination and get me to open up (which may or may not involve copious amounts of alcohol), then you'd probably regret that too. Once I'm on a roll, I can't censor the words that come out of my mouth before they do so. I would end up talking, apropos of nothing, about poo or periods, or launch into a diatribe against Victoria Beckham, or start calling random people c*nts (probably starting with Victoria Beckham). And then you would be the one frantically wishing you could escape. People would probably start speculating on the best way to shut me back up again. "Wasn't it nice before?" you'd be saying to each other wistfully. "When she was quiet and just seemed odd???"

Oh, yes.

So you see, you've done me a favour really by sticking to the other side of the Atlantic for your meet up. The only way I could probably feasibly come out of it seeming like a normal person would be if I brought my laptop and perhaps a projector and communicated via typing - my conversation with you could be shown on a big screen. Because, honestly, I'm far wittier with a computer in front of me than I am with a human (or several) in front of me. True story.

Anyway, I thought I would share this partly just to warn you in case of you are lucky** enough to ever bump into me in real life. And also to do my part in bigging-up the meet-up. Just cos I can't attend doesn't mean you can't! In fact, that's probably a good reason to attend . . .

Okay, back to my drink. This night out is so much FUN (I hope!!!) . . .

*As far as I'm aware the city should have been chosen by the time this blog "goes to print" as the poll is closing probably about now, but obviously I don't know which one it is yet - I just know I can't make it!

**Or have the misfortune!

Thursday, 11 September 2008


I bet you think I'm high or something after reading that title, right? I'm actually not. Let me explain . . .

It all began last night when I got drunk. Pretty damn drunk, one and a half bottles of white vino ALL BY MYSELF kinda drunk. My day yesterday wasn't really the best, I was feeling a bit crappy and somehow decided that pouring a litre of Piat Dor down my throat was going to help. I know*, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all.

So I got drunk and you know what? It worked. I didn't have a care in the world. I blogged away, texted people I hadn't text in ages, danced around my room singing Kelly Clarkson and Katy Perry songs at the top of my lungs (I may have also attempted a Britney style dance routine to "Gimme More" with my clothes rail as a prop, but I'm not confirming or denying that particular rumour . . .) and learned the vital lesson that you're not likely to get through a full song on Guitar Hero while blind drunk (yes, I still have the borrowed Wii!!!)

I didn't realise how drunk I was, to be fair, I thought I was pretty sober. After all, I actually put myself to bed rather than just passing out on my couch with my laptop still on, and I thought that meant I was still relatively sober.

I slept in this morning and woke up feeling like I wanted to puke, with a banging in my head that wouldn't quit. I could barely drag myself out of bed, it took me nearly an hour. THEN I realised my nose stud had fallen out during the night. And, although I managed to find the little silver star stud on my pillow, it wouldn't go back in my nose. The inside part of the hole seemed to have closed over.

I didn't panic. In my three years of being in possession of a pierced nose, this has happened to me on several occasions, although not with any consistency. Sometimes I can have my stud out for a couple of hours and the piercing doesn't close up. Other times I take one out to change it and it does. Anyway I did what I always do in these situations. Sterilised a needle and stuck it through the hole. Or tried to.

Usually the skin gives immediately with no pain. This time it didn't seem to want to.

Now, for all of you who DON'T have pierced noses (possibly ALL of you!) and therefore are not in the know, when you get your nose pierced, your eyes start streaming. Bigtime. My eyes immediately started to recreate the original piercing event, ruining the make up I was trying to put on in between trying unsuccessfully to reopen the hole. On top of this, the inside of my nose was being irritated by the needle and therefore I kept sneezing. Which really wasn't helping matters. On top of this, the whole situation in general was making me want to puke more, as I sat there sneezing, eyes running, trying to do my make up with a sewing needle half hanging out of my nose. Finally I managed to get the needle through and reinserted my nose stud. Victory was mine!

I got to work later than planned and immediately noticed my nose would not stop running (only on one side, mind!) and it was unbelievably itchy. Now I pretty much always have an itchy nose but this was unbearable. I kept going to the toilet to blow my nose but it didnt make any difference. My nose was definitely punishing me for something - and I kinda knew what really!!!

By lunchtime I had completely lost patience with it and emailed one of my friends:

My nose actually HATES me. :(

I got the following reply from him. . .

Has it finally told you?

Your nose said something to me last week but told me not to say anything or my nose would hate me too!

It's official guys. Our noses are conspiring against us. They're bitching about us behind our backs, making us itchy and they're probably plotting to escape one day when we least expect it . . .

Paranoid? Moi? No . . .

In other news . . . isn't it nice to make someone's day? I was with my friend after work buying a leaving present for another friend, and I decided as a little extra to buy this bookmark - it seemed a bit quirky and cute so I was won over. "Do you think she'll definitely like it?" I asked my friend. "Of course," she replied. "I would absolutely LOVE a little present like that, it's so adorable." So on a whim, I sneakily bought two when she wasn't looking and presented one of them to her outside the shop.

You know how "they" say giving is better than receiving? The delight on her face from receiving a four pound bookmark actually made MY day too . . .

And last but not least . . . I've read a couple of blog posts that made me laugh hard today. None more so than this one, courtesy of Laughing Through My Chardonnay. I was shaking my head in disbelief and snorting (yes, snorting!) at the same time at the awkward conversation she managed to get herself somehow embroiled in . . .

*Alcohol isn't the answer kids!!!

Wednesday, 10 September 2008


Seven years ago tomorrow I had a job interview for a teenage magazine.

It was like THE BIGGEST DEAL OF MY LIFE. Seriously. For several reasons. For one thing, it was one of the first job interviews I'd had since I graduated with my marketing degree. For another, it was a MAGAZINE. Finally, it was based in Dundee. Which, to me, meant I would probably have to move there - I've never been very good at commuting, and nearly two hours on a train would not work for me.

Anyway . . .

It's weird cos I remember so much about that day. The fact my dad made sure I got to Queen Street Station okay and basically put me on the train to Dundee (my sense of direction is awful). I remember getting totally lost on the way to the building DC Thompson was housed in, despite studying a printed out map religiously on the long train ride. I remember what I was wearing (I'm not going to describe it. it WASN'T good), my make up and my hair style.

I remember the interview was a bit of a nightmare - the woman asked me who I would interview and I said Destiny's Child since they were big in 2001. And then she asked what I would dress them in if I had to do a fashion shoot with them and I really didn't have a clue so I blurted out "lilac trousers" for some unknown reason. I think I knew at that point I didn't have the job.

I remember the fact I was DESPERATE for the toilet by the time the interview ended but so embarrassed at how badly it went that I didn't have the nerve to ask where their toilet was. I ended up going to the main shopping centre in Dundee and finding it there instead. I remember being on the train home and the book I was reading ("Flavor of the Month" by the late great Olivia Goldsmith). I even recall going to Hamilton post office to buy postal orders and having an awkward encounter with a girl who used to be my best friend in primary school.

It's funny because although I have a great memory, day-to-day things generally fall by the wayside.

But not that day.

I remember I had ran into my friend from school about two-ish and then headed home to have a bath. And it was while I was in the bath that my mum got home and told me that some planes had crashed into the World Trade Centre.

Despite my knowledge of geography, this didn't mean much to me.

I assumed she meant light planes with just a few passengers. And despite my good geographical knowledge, I didn't actually realise many people worked in the World Trade Centre. I actually thought it was kinda like the Eiffel Tower.

It was only as the aftermath unfolded that I realised the consequences of what happened:

I realised that tens of THOUSANDS of people actually worked in the World Trade Centre.

It hit me for definite that a large proportion of these people had not left the towers alive.

I discovered, for the first time, who Osama bin Laden was.

Even now, I find it hard to get my head around the whole event. I'm sure I'm not the only one. Let's face it, it struck the whole world. Hard. Everything else that has happened since then, even the horrific things that have happened in London during the terrorist atrocities in 2005, or the attempted attacks at Glasgow airport a year ago . . . they've not had quite the impact as 9/11. I can't define why this is, I'm useless at historical and political stuff . . . I just know that since the events of September 11th 2001, I don't feel quite as safe as I did. I watched the news virtually non stop for two or three weeks after it happened - I've lost count of the number of times I watched the planes strike the Twin Towers but even now I can't get my head around it. I witnessed a friend of mine of Indian descent being abused because people saw the colour of her skin and associated her with terrorists. I know even years later we're still seeing the after effects of this event and it terrifies me.

It's really not like me to be serious, and SERIOUSLY not like me to venture into this territory . . . but I felt like I couldn't not mention it.


Today I decided to wear a skirt and heels to work, which I haven't done in ages. Of late I tend to end up wearing my jeans and scruffy ballet pumps as the dress code in my department isn't too strict and it's easier to just have to choose a top to wear in the morning than a whole outfit. Don't get me wrong though, I still make an effort . . . or at least so I thought!

But today I was getting so many "oh don't you look smart today" remarks that I was starting to get a little paranoid that maybe I AM usually a complete mess. One of the guys in my department even asked me if I "had an interview . . . or a court appearance."


But nothing could beat the email from one of my other colleagues which read:

"May I say you are looking very smart today . . . and your outfit is quite nice too!"

So according to him not only am I usually a mess, but I usually look stupid too?

Man, that's a back handed compliment if ever I got one . . .

Tuesday, 9 September 2008


I received the following email from my mate over in Southern Ireland the other day. It started like this . . .

..it's harder than it looks! Erase my answers, enter yours, send it on to 10 people including the one that sent this to you. *Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following...*They have to be real places, names, things...nothing made up! Try to use different answers if the person in front of you had the same 1st initial. You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl name question. Use your first name (no nicknames).

Okay. Simple enough, right? Think again.

My friend's first initial is A. Here are her answers . . .

VEHICLE: Car / Mazda
TV SHOW: Two & a Half Men
CITY: Palma
GIRL NAME: Clodagh
OCCUPATION: Receptionist/Admin
FOOD: Spag Ball
COLOUR: Turquoise

I couldn't help but wonder if I'd missed something, since only one (and a half, I suppose) of her answers began with "A". But when I emailed her to point this out and got a response which made even less sense, I have to suspect that she just completely missed the point . . .

All the same it gave me a much needed laugh, and thank goodness for that since I hate Tuesdays so much!

And speaking of which . . . this week's installment of Cheer-me-up-Tuesday comes courtesy of various product warnings which made me laugh out loud, borrowed from snopes.com . . . (here is the link to the exact page too as I did leave a couple out, but I would recommend exploring the whole website because it's pretty damn interesting)

Sears hairdryer

Bag of Fritos

Swanns frozen dinner

Shower cap box

Bottom of Tesco's tiramisu box

Marks and Spencer bread pudding

Boot's children cough medicine

Korean kitchen knife

Japanese food processor

Sainsbury's peanuts

Monday, 8 September 2008


You know when you see someone fall flat on their face and you want to laugh out loud and sometimes do? Is that evil?

I wonder of late if my evil streak runs thicker than I've realised. I always wondered back in the day when I would be watching "You've Been Framed" and virtually piss myself laughing at the unfortunate accidents people had on film if my laughing made me a bad person. Because when I thought back to some of the things I had seen, surely the person could have been quite badly hurt. After all, bellyflopping into a pool can be pretty painful, as can getting kneed in the balls by your kid (I imagine). And I'm sure when you run at someone during a dance and are meant to jump into their arms and miss and hit the floor instead . . . well I don't imagine it's a walk in the park either. Yet I would still howl with laughter; the type that makes you double over in mirth, that makes you feel the following day like you've done 100 crunches due to the muscles in your stomach contracting so hard.

I take a lot of joy from the celebrity magazines which chronicle the embarrassing things that have happened to various celebrities that week. "Oh, look who forgot to wear pants again" or "look who fell over outside a nightclub!" All very amusing. Hey, you might make more money than me . . . but I didn't have my most embarrassing moment that week caught on film. Ha! I win!

If someone tells me that her boyfriend has butchered her hair to the point where she looks like a woman from a Meatloaf video and that's why she has it tied back, I instantly want to see the horrific hairstyle in its entirety. Or if a colleague tells me that as part of his stag night humiliation, he had to wear a dress (and, in his own words, not even a nice dress!) I instantly want the photographic evidence. In both cases, this is because I want to see for myself and laugh if necessary. Am I the only one who would be thinking this?

Is it bad of me to want to punch the person who just gave away the glue stick sitting next to all my other stationery on my own desk on the day I managed to get a papercut on my tongue from licking envelopes (karma perhaps?) and therefore needed it to seal my envelopes??? Especially since they never even apologised for it? (If they decide to give away my stress turkey Tito next, I will not be responsible for my actions...)

And how about the urges I get to knock cyclists off their bikes when they virtually run me down on pavements and pedestrian bridges? Or the fact I want to punch those idiots who hold me up when I'm trying to walk down the street, either the fellow pedestrians who stop suddenly in front of me so I nearly run into them, or the so-called "charity workers" trying to force me to sign up for a direct debit every month where more money will go to them and their agency than the charity in question? Is this wrong of me?

Is it only natural of me to take pleasure in other's pain in a "You've Been Framed" type way? Am I the only person who occasionally wishes to inflict bodily harm on someone particularly annoying them? I seriously doubt it.

But does anyone else want to admit it??????????

And finally . . . something that amused me - in a sick way. Not the hoax itself regarding Miley Cyrus's alleged death in a car crash last Friday, but the comments that accompanied the article which CONFIRMED it was a hoax.

Sunday, 7 September 2008


Well lookee here, see what I've received courtesy of the lovely Elle at The IT Girl . . .

Isn't it pretty??? It's put a smile on my face, you'll be glad to hear. As predicted, I've now cheered up a bit from earlier. I can't say it's always gonna be a laugh-a-minute with me, you're gonna have to take the rough with the smooth, but my little award here has certainly helped.

Anyway, here are the rules of the award . . .

1. The winner can put the logo on his/her blog.

2. Link the person you received your award from.

3. Nominate 7 other blogs.

4. Put links of those blogs on yours.

5. Leave a message on the blogs of the people you’ve nominated.

Okay, so I'm gonna be a bit of a rebel, I'll do the linky-dink-dink thing, but I'm not telling the winners . . . if they want to find out if they've won, they're gonna have to read this entry, aren't they? Ha!!! (There's a method to my madness, you see . . . )

Anyhoo, here goes. The winners are . . . DRUMROLL PLEASE . . .

The Tambourine Queen (
Lyla Lou
Alice in Average-Land
Diana Bananna
In This Skin
A Mask to Hide Behind
Blog Voyeur Turned Blogwhore (if she ever returns to the fold, she can collect her award!)

It was kinda hard to narrow it down, and I kinda wanted to cop out and award it to my entire blogroll AND all the blogs on my google reader that I haven't got around to officially "adding" to my blogroll yet, but I felt like since I copped out on my last award, I should do it properly this time. So congrats all!

And since it was The IT girl who gave me the award, I think I shall post a little clip in honour of her . . .

Thanks Elle!!! :)


Last night, tired though I was, my brain just wouldn't shut down once again.

I'm finding this happening more and more recently and it's mentally exhausting me. The problem is, I don't really know how to stop it. I find myself revisiting nice memories, and that makes me nostalgic. But then the bad memories come and they make me angry . . . because with bad memories like this, how can dwell on the good ones? How can I wish for things to be different when I already know, deep down, how everything will turn out.

I keep wondering if I had done things differently, would my life be different right now? And would I even want it ro be? My head is definitely feeling a bit fucked right now. Hopefully normal service will resume later.

No "Lessons from the Weekend" this week as I don't really feel like I did enough to warrant a whole post on them, but I'll probably be back later - I'm back in hibernation mode, albeit only for the rest of today . . .

Saturday, 6 September 2008


So my self-imposed hibernation didn't exactly go to plan. Why? Family called. My sister phoned me last night to ask if I fancied doing something with her and my mum today. I didn't have the heart to say no. Nothing definite had been planned at that point, my mum hadn't even committed yet, so I told my sister to let me know what was happening and I would decide if I wanted to come out.

Next thing I noticed I had an email from my mum saying she quite fancied going bowling. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that. My mum can be a bit random, but she's so adorable. She doesn't really understand bitchiness and office politics make her sad. When we take her out for a pub lunch she gets excited when we order a bottle of rose and they put it in a wine cooler. She sings random little songs to herself, and is convinced the priest in her local church slowed down the organist on purpose to stop her singing the hymns, which really upset her. She doesn't really use handbags when she comes to meet us; instead she'll put her belongings in a plastic bag. What plastic bag she uses depends on the occasion - if it's just a coffee, it'll be a duty free bag, for example; if it's lunch in a nice place, she might upgrade to a Next bag. Seriously, she's a great character.

When we met up at eleven this morning (which necessitated me getting up before ten am!!!) the first thing she proceeded to tell us about was following one of my sister's co-workers through Frasers department store earlier on today (the girl was working in the concession there for the day) purely so she could see her name badge. "Let me get this straight," my sister said slowly. "You were stalking her?" My mum nodded enthusiastically in response.

Anyway, she got her way and we went bowling. Once again, I pretty much sucked at it. Apparently I really do bowl worse sober than I do drunk. My sister, on the other hand, kept saying "if I get less than 100 points for a game, I just can't cope." She coped just fine . . . her worst score was an even hundred. I managed 98 on our third and final game and that was a record for me. Think I could have used those bumper buddy things . . . although I'm sure a 28 year old really should be able to bowl in a straight line- preferably one which doesn't end up in the gutter!

The games went on longer than they should have, probably, as my mum would quite often continue a conversation she had started for several minutes before we could get her up to take her go. This is why coffee would probably have been a far better idea. Coffee is more of a conversational activity. Bowling is a competitive event. This is probably the main distinction between the two, apart from obviously having to change your shoes for bowling, and generally not having to change them for coffee. At least in the circles I travel in . . .

Anyway, despite me not wanting to leave the flat for three days and breaking this aim, and not being particularly sure if I could even be bothered going out today in the first place, I had a good time all the same. I'm not entirely sure there was any other point to this story . . . but, what the hell, I told it anyway!!!

Friday, 5 September 2008


This is a question that has been bugging me since the appearance of Hurricane Gustav on our radar.

Do you, like, have to be the person who discovered its existence in order to name it (that's what happens with comets and stuff, right?) or is there someone out there who has the specific job of naming them?

If so, can I apply? It's right up there in my opinion with being the person who makes up the list shows on the music channels - you know, the ones like "The 20 Best Boyband Tracks" or "Top Ten Sexiest Females". I would rock at that kind of job, honestly . . . and I'm convinced that it's the sixteen year old there on work experience for a week who got given that as something to do to keep her busy. So unfair.

Anyway, back to the hurricane naming. Seriously, can I? Please??? Because whoever is doing it right now . . . it just isn't cutting the mustard really.

I mean, Gustav? Come on, it sounds like a German porn star name. Gustav wouldn't so much knock your house down as turn up to fix your plumbing with a rather large . . . ahem . . . hammer in his pocket. (Or maybe he's just pleased to see you?)

Hanna, on the other hand, well she's more likely to be waiting for you to sneak up on her rather than the other way around. Perhaps crocheting a scarf while waiting, a pot of tea brewing and with the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes wafting around the house. (Sorry, I've known quite a few grandmothers with that name, I'm blatantly stereotyping, I realise). A Hanna wouldn't be capable of mass destruction surely? (Likewise Florence and Beryl!)

How about Hurricane Debby??? It's more of a cheerleader name than a hurricane name.

Hurricane Issac? It will entertain you with songs while it tries to blow you over. How entertaining.

Earnesto? This is the type of hurricane you may meet while on holiday, one which sweeps you off your feet (literally) even though he has a wife waiting for him at home. Arsehole.

Or how about Eugene? You'd knock that wimp over before he'd had a chance to knock you!

Does the person who gets to name the hurricanes sit there with a baby book trying to work out whether the meaning or origin of a particular name suits the hurricane in person. "Well this hurricane has the potential to be a bit of a wild one, so let's find a name which personifies this. How about . . . Lindsay Lohan? No? You sure? Okay, back to the drawing board then . . ."

We definitely need better names for these hurricanes. Scarier names. After all, hurricanes are, ultimately, evil killing machines. They cause devastation, chaos, death, destruction - they leave cities quaking in their wake. To be honest, now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure I myself could actually come up with names that would do them justice, that would properly personify them. How about we name them after serial killers? Hurricane Charles Manson? Hurricane Jack the Ripper? Hurricane Harold Shipman? Surely these are slightly more apt - they convey more of a sense of what a hurricane is all about.

That being said, why give these criminals further publicity?

Actually now I have sympathy with whoever names the hurricanes. It can't be all that easy. Maybe I shouldn't apply for the job after all. I'd probably end up quitting with the pressure since I clearly overthink things far too much . . .

And to anyone out there who has been affected recently by Gustav and Hanna, hope you have come out of it okay. Weather is a bitch, that's for sure.