Sunday, 30 November 2008


Really, I'm not. It's something I probably take for granted. I've never had to go to hospital (for me!!! not to visit someone) let alone stay in one. I hardly ever even come down with the cold, and even when I do, it's rarely a bad one. While other people around me seem to come down with several a year, the only bad cold I remember having was the one I caught while down in London in June. It's weird since I wouldn't say my lifestyle is particularly healthy but I guess I'm not going to quibble the small stuff.

But of course if I AM going to get sick, you can guarantee (according to the rules of my life) it's going to happen at the most inconvenient of times.

So I've been feeling a bit off for quite a few days now; really run-down, and had a pain in my lower back which while not having me writhing in agony is definitely not comfortable. My flatmate pointed out to me last night that my symptoms sound like a kidney infection. I checked this out online and everything seems to match up. So I've been lying on a hot water bottle, popping painkillers and mainlining cranberry juice pretty much all day. I CAN'T be not well. It really couldn't be a worse time, seriously!

The next two weeks are two of the busiest weeks in work and we'll have skeleton staff so being off work is NOT an option. On top of this I have to work a 6.40am - 5.15pm shift on Wednesday and Thursday. Ouch.

THEN I have to spend Friday in a cold warehouse (which is REALLY going to help my kidneys!) which is going to be an absolute bugger to me to get to. The one person who COULD give me a lift won't do so, and I have too much pride to ask again. And given I've barely been able to sleep as it is due to all my inside pains, and will have to do those extra long shifts during the week, I can't risk taking public transport there (which would entail me getting the underground and a train to get there before 8am) as I don't trust myself to wake up in time. (Hell, I'm not sure I trust myself to get in for those other shifts either but at least I can walk there and don't have to rely on myself AND public transport). So I'm going to have to shell out money I really don't have right now on taxis. Fan-fucking-tastic, right?

After all the crap I feel like I've gone through in work recently, not being well really IS the icing on the cake. I'm trying to focus on the things that will be good (ie. OUTSIDE work activities) this week. Stereophonics gig on Tuesday for example. My friend from Ireland possibly coming over next weekend again (twice in less than a month, woohoo!).

Let's just hope I'm not feeling too sick to enjoy the good stuff . . .

So onto cheerier topics . . .Christmas shopping for example. Did I mention how much I like it? Especially now you can get everything online - which makes my life so much easier!!! I'm still about halfway through, but I've found some really cool stuff. Wanna see???
I saw these brooches on the Hannah Zakari website and they were only three quid each so I couldn't resist. I snapped up a couple in different colours - figured they would make good stocking filler type gifts. Kinda wish I'd bought myself one now . . . :(
I also got the necklace below on the same website. I like the way it's a bit vintage-y (not a real word, right?) looking. I think it may also have been one-of-a-kind but don't worry, the designer has other almost-as-nice stuff on the site still!
I got the bracelet below from Punky Allsorts, a website I've mentioned before. Their jewellery has been seen on several famous folk, from Nicky Hilton to Katy Perry, and I just think this bracelet in particular is adorable!
The two below items are from this Etsy stop - I particularly love the necklace. Once again, it's another thing I want to keep for myself . . .

Perhaps I should actually stop buying people things I like myself. Not only am I probably buying things in my taste rather than theirs, but I'm also waaaayyyy too tempted to NOT give them away!!!

Saturday, 29 November 2008


You probably know I'm not the biggest expert in the kitchen. The only thing I can really make is pizza (using a cheese scone recipe as a base) and cookies. So when the urge to bake overtakes me (which admittedly is rare) I tend to stick to one of these two options. It gets a bit boring though.

So when I saw Lacey's post about snickers cookies a few weeks ago, I wanted to try them out. The problem is, I don't actually LIKE snickers. But I figured I could experiment with a different chocolate bar instead.

I checked out the actual recipe last weekend and it sounded a bit complicated for my liking (too many ingredients really - I like things to be as easy as possible) so I decided to use my usual chocolate chip recipe for it instead. And instead of Snickers, I used a Dairy Milk Caramel bar. Yum...

Anyway, here's the recipe. To be honest, it's more for my own reference than anyone else's as I only have the recipe on a piece of scrap paper right now and if I lose it, I'm screwed. But feel free to try it out!!!

75g/3oz margarine
75g/3oz brown sugar
1 egg
few drops vanilla essence
150g/6oz self raising flour
pinch of salt
1 Dairy Milk Caramel bar

(this makes approximately 12 cookies, so I tend to double the quantity of everything to make more)

  • Rub margarine and sugar together
  • Add egg and vanilla essence, mix in
  • Stir in flour and salt gradually
  • Roll dough into round balls with half a section of Caramel bar in the centre of it. Place balls on a greased baking tray.
  • Put in a pre-heated oven at 180 degrees for 10/15 mins

They're not the most GORGEOUS looking cookies but they are pretty damn nice taste-wise (which is the important thing, right?). My flatmates loved them and the caramel worked a treat inside them. Once I'm no longer on a diet I might try experimenting with different sort of "fillings". Peanut butter cups might be nice, for example.

I've included a close up of the middle of a cookie below, just so you can see what the finished (half-eaten) result is like.

Anyway, that's it! I never in a million years thought I would post a recipe on my blog but there you go. Proof that I occasionally have been known to use a wooden spoon for cooking purposes.

Not that there's any OTHER purpose I would use it for, of course . . .


When it comes to technology, I like to think I'm pretty savvy. I can install software, download things. Even when I had a trojan virus in my laptop earlier on in the year, I tried to fix it myself for several days before finally succumbing to professional help. *

But certain technology freaks me out. I look at it and feel completely overwhelmed.

Back at uni, it was the photocopier. Now, seriously, is there actually an easier, more obvious machine you can use than a photocopier??? But I was TERRIFIED of it. I used to wait until one of my friends had to photocopy something and then faux-casually ask if they could photocopy something for me while they were doing their own. I think I kept the secret fairly well hidden - everyone probably thought I was really LAZY, but they didn't know of my fear of the photocopier.

Thankfully, due to the numerous temping gigs I have had, I've became fairly familiar with the ways of the photocopier these days. Thankfully. That being said, I still have momentary panic when faced with a new one (fax machines also arouse a similar fear in me, I should add) and when there's a paper jam??? Don't even get me started! I can't work out where the jam actually is, the little diagram thingy means nothing to me. And if I manage to work out where it is, I then can't work out how to OPEN that particular part of the photocopier . . .

What else freaks me out? Oooh, the self-scanning machines in supermarkets. I would rather queue and have someone else scan my stuff through than have to do it myself. I have this uncontrollable fear that something won't scan and I won't be able to get any help and people are going to be queuing behind me, yelling abuse and throwing their food at me. What is especially weird is that I actually used to WORK in a shop where I had to scan things - and i quite LIKED doing it. So why the fear of scanning things myself now? Yeah, it really makes no sense.

And then today I was walking through Maryhill Shopping Centre after leaving Tesco and a woman popped her head out of the photo-booth thingummyjig. "Do you have any idea how to use these things?" she asked me. "I've put my money in and don't have a clue what to do next."

I peered in at the touch-screen that was flashing up with random options and felt nothing but confusion. I felt like backing away from it slowly. "Em - no." I apologised. "I really don't have a clue, sorry!"

I'm sure I could have worked it out eventually had I been trying to take a picture myself. But I was reluctant to guess and use trial and error when someone else's money was at stake. Because that machine would probably have sensed my fear.

And no matter what . . . you can't let them know you're afraid . . .

*I can even change a lightbulb. All by myself. Yes. I AM amazing . . .

Friday, 28 November 2008


For my 28th birthday last year, one of my friends bought me "The Rules".

An interesting read in a it's-a-load-of-bollocks-but-you-can't-stop-reading-it kinda way. Car-crash reading, perhaps?

I'm not sure why I don't believe in it. It's not like I'm a massive feminist but it does annoy me how much these rules seem to completely fly in the face of feminism. It's like they're saying "if you don't let the guy do everything, your relationship will be over before it has even started".

Is that really the case, guys???

One of the rules, for example, states that the girl should not approach the guy under any circumstances. She has to wait for him to come to her. Why? Because otherwise she may have set off a chain reaction of events that wasn't meant to happen. The guy will give into the girl's advances and end up seeing her but he won't really care cos he didn't approach her first and therefore the relationship is doomed to failure. Seriously. This is what it says.

Surely that can't be true in all cases???

Then there's the one which says that the girl should never phone the guy. It should always be the other way around. This is not only how we apparently keep them keen, it also is a way to punish them when they aren't treating us well - in other words, if we think they're losing interest, we just don't answer our phone for a week.

There are case studies to prove it and everything!!!

(So it must be true . . . )

I can't help but feel that the first rule I mentioned and the second don't really sit well together, in fact they kind of contradict each other. But I can't think how to word why I feel this way.

The thing that worries me is that when I first read the book I realised I actually am a Rules girl.

By default.

Because it's not that I see not phoning someone, or ignoring someone until they make an effort, or not approaching a guy as some kind of tactic in the fight to prove someone is interested in me.

But because I am so worried that I might make a wrong move, that I might fuck things up. And I'm too damn shy half the time to do anything about anything.

It's no bloody wonder I'm single, right???

Perhaps I should get dating coaching . . . No???

Here's the top ten rules . . . if you want a laugh. :)

Thursday, 27 November 2008


If you found this blog post searching for the "multi-Brit-Award-winning British hard rock/glam rock band" , wrong place! Try here.


This morning we had a power cut.

I had barely dragged myself out of bed and finished putting on my make-up when everything went black.

Apart from my laptop - which can run on battery (for, oh, approximately five minutes! Wow!!!).

This was a bit annoying given that I 1) was wearing a skirt and nothing else (and hadn't decided if I WANTED to wear a skirt yet and examined it in the mirror for twenty minutes in order to decide) and 2) still needed to make my lunch.

In fact, scratch "annoying" - it was a "FUCKING PAIN IN THE ARSE!!!"

I couldn't even find shoes!!! Well, to be honest, I was tripping over shoes as I stumbled to open my bedroom door to my flatmate, but finding a pair that MATCHED was proving to be a slight problem.

It even took me a while to find my candles in order to give me some light.

And even then, it was STILL a fucking pain in the arse.

Or how about trying to locate my keys which I had haphazardly and drunkenly chucked across the room when I got home from my fabby evening out last night? I mean, how the heck was I supposed to know that it was going to be a total bitch to find them the next morning??? I didn't expect all the lights to go out!!!

By some miracle, I managed to locate my trousers (the skirt was a no-no given I hadn't had a chance to see what it looked like), a matching pair of shoes and all the belongings I needed. I nearly set several things on fire in the process and nearly had several accidents in the kitchen too while trying to root through the fridge (for some reason I thought the fridge light would ALWAYS go on when the door opened.) But I made it out alive.

And thankfully, by the time we returned tonight, power was restored.

Thank God for that.

(Long pause)

After all, he WAS the one who said "let there be light . . ."

(Canned laughter)


In other news . . .

I think I need to start looking for a new job. I don't want to, but work is getting harder for me to deal with as it seems that I'm working with someone who hates me. I'm not sure what I've done, but I feel like I'm getting treated differently as a result and that other people must be able to see it too, and frankly it's humiliating. It's making me not want to go to work in the morning. I hate feeling like this, especially since I'm happy in pretty much every other area of my life right now (which is a rare feeling for me and it would be nice to be able to enjoy it!)

So it looks like my only option is going to have to be doing what I do best . . . and quitting. After I've found something else, obviously. It's just I'm so demotivated now that the very idea of filling out application forms, visiting agencies and searching websites just exhausts me. I don't even really want to leave . . . but right now it just feels like that's the only option open to me.

Wednesday, 26 November 2008


*Yep, I'm blatantly stealing lines from this song - did you guess???

I'm just trying to get ready for a mini-night out and after today I think I desperately need some entertainment and alcohol. Anyway, in the meantime, I leave you with this - a snippet of an email from my mum where she is discussing trying to buy me underwear for my Christmas. It made me smile anyway . . .

Seriously, there are hardly any thongs in the shops. They all seem to be tiny mini-hot pant - boxer thingies. They have lots of frills which would make for a very visible VPL. There are also loads of old-fashioned real pants aka granny knickers (a la Bridget Jones or yours truly). What's going on out there in the real world? Are folk fed up with knickers that don't fulfil the purpose of their existence ie to catch the drips? Anyway, I wasted a lot of time trying to guess.

She's quite the comedian, my mum . . . :)

Tuesday, 25 November 2008


I walk to work most days and my route nearly always takes me past my old university campus.

It's no longer owned by the uni it was owned by when I went there. It used to be Glasgow Caledonian Uni's Park Campus - three and a half years into my course, it was bought over by Glasgow Uni and is now their teaching college. Weirdly enough, I actually ended up temping in there a couple of years back. It was odd because the basic building has remained the same but all these modern bits have been added on since 2001, in a freaky, patchwork-meets-Frankenstein sorta way.

Anyway, sometimes I barely notice it on my walk past, it just blends into the background. But on other days, I just realise how much at times I miss being a student.

Not the being-skint part. Man, I lived on a hundred quid a month at uni and sixty five of that went on travel expenses. Actually, I'm surprised I survived.

Not really the learning part of it either. To be honest, I did skip a lot of classes, particularly in my first couple of years. I did Marketing & Communication and it really wasn't the most enthralling of courses. One of my friends has just started an undergraduate course in something she really WANTS to do and I'm a little jealous of her enthusiasm for it. I wish I had a passion for something like that, I really do.

It's a cliche I know, but for me it was the EXPERIENCE . . .

Meeting people from different backgrounds and places was great for me, and it totally made me gain confidence.

But most of all, I remember all the drunken nights. Or DON'T remember them, more appropriately.

The one that always sticks with me most acutely is the night of the course punch party in third year.

We were doing a module that year which entailed us marketing a real-life product (our team's product was the Ultimo bikini) and having a mock trade fair for the product (where I ended up walking around amongst fully dressed people IN said bikini - not my finest hour . . . ) . Obviously, we had to raise money to ensure that we could fund making our stall, advertising materials, promotional goodies etc. Our team sold chocolate. Another team had the inspired (in my view!) idea of having a punch party.

That was one of the things I loved MOST about uni, right from Fresher's Week of my very first year. The punch parties were AWESOME - all you needed to do was pay two or three quid and BAM!!! - unlimited punch for HOURS. Possibly every type of alcohol in the world was in that bunch bowl. Possibly not. But there was a HELL of a lot of alcohol in there.

So the team organising this one sold us tickets. I bought one for me, and also for my sister (who was a first year at the same campus) to convince her to come along. Of course, the thought of free alcohol obviously convinced her. (Can you tell we are related???)

We headed to the Bedsit, where it was taking place. That was the name of the tiny student union pub in Park Campus. (I think it closed a couple of months before we had to move to City Campus. Sadly.)

"I'll pace myself," I thought. As always.

Some things never change. I never DID manage to pace myself, in the end.

The punch tasted like dilute orange juice. Kia-ora, to be precise. My coursemates assured me the taste was deceptive. The stuff was in fact POTENT with alcohol.

I've never drunk so much dilute orange juice in my life . . .

I believe I had reached 13 cups and thought I was still sober.

I wasn't.

I was having an AWESOME time though.

I remember having a discussion with some of my female friends about what guy on the course we would shag if given the chance. I was taken aback by my own answer.

I also vaguely remember being told that one of the guy's friends fancied me. I thought he was cute, but even with the alcohol in me, I was too shy to even look at him. (I probably had a lucky escape, as I've seen pics of him on facebook these days and he's NOT worn well. How depressing.)

I remember going to the toilet towards the end of the night. Probably stumbling is a better chosen word.

I remember my sister waking me up half an hour or so later.

I'd decided to have some shut-eye on the floor of the toilet.

It made sense at the time . . .

THEN came the suffering.

I puked on the subway between Kelvinbridge and Partick.

I puked at Partick train station.

I puked on the train from Partick.

I don't remember getting home, but my sister said putting me to bed had been a bit of a chore. "It was like undressing a ragdoll," she told me afterwards. "You were totally FLOPPY."

And you know how usually if you puke repeatedly on the same night you've been drinking, you usually don't feel as bad the next morning? Like you've got most of the badness out of you at the time and therefore the hangover is slightly better?

Not this time. I was puking the next day too. I think I got to uni about five hours later than planned. I was still feeling sick the following evening. I think I may also still have been slightly drunk until then.

I think that may have been the most drunken night of my life.

It was certainly one of the worst hangovers I've ever had.

But everytime I walk past my old uni, and remember that night, I can't help but smile at the memory of me waking up on the toilet floor.

What a great night . . .


I missed "Cheer-me-up-Tuesday" the past few weeks - I'm not sure why, I just kept forgetting about it - but it's back this week. Of course, I'm cheating with a clip you've probably seen before. But it's relatively new to me, as I only saw it for the first time on a new tv show called "Rude Tube" last week. Me likey . . .

Monday, 24 November 2008


When you're feeling uninspired, it's always good when you are inspired by someone else in the blogosphere. Like when Agent Elle blogged about her superpowers a few weeks back, I said back then I wanted to write a post based on her post.

Mainly the superpowers I MYSELF would love to possess . . .

There are a couple admittedly. The ability to fly would be good (like a bird, not ON a plane). As would being able to time-travel. Invisibility? Yeah, within reason (there's certain scenarios I would probably not want to stumble across . . . I don't even want to think about what these are . . . )

But the main power I would like???

The ability to read minds.


Guys' minds.

Think Mel Gibson's ability in "What Women Want" but swapped to the male of the species.

Think how much easier my life would be . . .

I would understand why certain guys treated me the way they did.

I wouldn't have to worry about whether a guy I liked fancied me back. I could find out easily, just by reading his mind. Interested? I could make a move or incite HIM to make the move first, playing against his own feelings and forcing him into my very own pleasurable form of "Check-mate". Indecisive? I could find out WHY, and work him around (if I so desired). Completely UNinterested??? I could try to accept it and move on.

I would be able to see the inward reaction to each one of my moves. The outer appearance can be misleading . . . I would see to the very core.

I'd be able to read the nuances in each and every comment made, the meaning of each and every syllable sent via email, or text. I'd know the exact meaning . . . of everything.

It would be FABULOUS.

Or would it . . .?

I'd like to think it would be. It certainly would be the easy way out.

But ultimately . . . I guess it would make life faaaarrrr less interesting.

Because isn't part of the fun the guessing???

The taking the risk???

Maybe having superpowers isn't all it's cracked up to be . . .

Sunday, 23 November 2008


My brain doesn't always quite engage with my mouth. You may be aware of this already. Especially if you know me.

Occasionally the connection between both IS made . . . it doesn't always make a difference though. Quite often I STILL end up saying the wrong thing.

Anyway, I digress.

Ever said "Have fun!" to someone when they have just told you they're off to do something that is quite patently NOT going to be fun? Just as an automatic reflex or something?

Yeah, I did that earlier.

Luckily my friend saw the funny side of it.

Saturday, 22 November 2008


So tonight I was idly browsing the net and in between twitter-ing my ass off, looking up celebrity diet tips and buying christmas gifts, I happened across this article.

It made me laugh. So thanks for that.

I will need to remember that next time I'm caught in a rain storm with my beloved (presuming I find one of those) that I shouldn't try and find shelter (bearing in mind my hair does NOT take kindly to water) but instead have a massive make-out session.

Then there's the "power kiss". Now, perhaps I just have a dirty mind but . . . what do THESE words indicate to you . . . ?

"Sometimes the most passionate kisses have very little to do with your mouth. Rather, it’s the commanding way you use your hands that can make sparks fly."

Maybe it IS just me . . .

Or next time I have frozen grapes or ice-cubes or marshmallow fluff or mints around, I'll use them to make my man's mouth tingle as we kiss. Oh yeah. Cos THAT'S the first thing that springs to mind . . .

Then there's the "stop-and-go" kiss which is where you PROMISE (have you signed something here?) to kiss at every red light. I mean, this seems a bit dangerous to me. In fact, I'm sure I was a passenger in the car once where this happened and frankly I ended up fearing we were going to end up getting rear-ended (by a CAR!!! mind OUT of the gutter please!).

Anyway, the whole article annoyed me. It's all well and good trying to spice up our kissing-lives but whatever happened to just enjoying a kiss for its own sake? Maybe it's just because I went so long (until last week, obviously!) without a snog that I feel like this but I don't think people should be telling us how to kiss. Is it any wonder that the article came courtesy of a dating website? I can't help but feel this is the reason why it's a bit contrived.

That being said, I probably can't really judge. Back when I was 21 (and completely inexperienced!), my friend gave me this book. And I have, admittedly in the past, TRIED to follow the advice (probably unsuccessfully). So really I'm not all that equipped to slag off a kissing guide.



Since turning 29 (I nearly typed 39 by accident there, but it was an honest typo, I swear - I only type with two fingers but don't look at the keyboard while typing so I DO occasionally make an error) I have started to get a bit paranoid that I am looking old. It's not like I'm seeing wrinkles all over the place or anything, I just feel more haggard-looking or something.

It's ridiculous really for me to feel this way as I've never looked my age and it tends to be a shock to people when I tell them that I am, in fact, less than a year from 30. Believe me, it's a shock to me too!!! (Deep breaths Paula, try not to panic. Again . . . )

So it was actually kinda nice last night to have the bouncers ask for ID when we were going into Bamboo last night. It was even nicer that I'd optimistically remembered to take my passport along (since I can't drive, this is the only ID I have) which actually enabled me to GET in. I HOPE it was embarrassing for them that they'd ID'd someone who has been legally able to drink for 11 years. (I can't quite remember if they seemed embarrassed once they clocked that 1979 was my year of birth - you know, since I was drunk and all). But in a way I sort of wanted to hug them.

Somehow, I don't think they would have liked that though . . .

P.S. After reading Jess's guidespot post on the subject, I am worried there is a severe possibility I am a hot mess. This scares me. I'm not sure whether I have to fulfill all criteria to qualify to be one, or whether it's a sort of "any of the above" thing but I definitely found myself identifying with several of the definitions.

And while we're on the subject of Guidespot, why not check out Ben's appeal to Guidespot to make it open to Canadians too? I know I'm not Canadian (duh! Although I do have Canadian relatives) but the post he has written is just hilarious. (And ALSO educational, as I learned about beavers and also that Canadians spell the word "favourite" like British people . . . )

Anyhoo, it's time for Christmas shopping. Online, of course. The idea of actually GOING TO THE SHOPS??? Appalls me. Hopefully I'll get the bulk of it finished today.

Friday, 21 November 2008


Sorry, but this is a "Friends" related post. But don't worry - it'll be quick!!!

I promise!!!

How many times do we see the cast of "Friends" with other people? The odd girlfriend/boyfriend, fair enough. (Although considering they seem to date one ANOTHER more often than they date "external candidates", that's few and far between). The odd colleague in work, put there for either entertainment purposes or to add something to the particular plot - occasionally.

But let's face it, more often than not, they either hang out in Central Perk or in Monica's apartment . . . with each other.

They don't seem to make an effort to make friends with anyone else - except for the purpose that they want a shag.

They seem surprised if one of them even IMPLY they may have an external friend.

So . . . why is it, that when they have parties, so many people seem to come???

Last time there was a party in MY flat, we could barely manage a couple of friend apiece.

Arseholes . . .

NB. Please note I AM aware that, no matter how much I may adore "Friends", it is more-than-a-little unrealistic and these party attendees are mainly just extras. Who are PAID to attend. This post was for entertainment purposes only. Although I'm not sure it served THAT purpose either . . .

Okay, I'm off to get drunk now in preparation of my night out. Or should that be DRESSED . . .?

Thursday, 20 November 2008


So last week's post on the same subject whetted my appetite, let's call it. Because I realise just how many silly gifts can be found on these gift websites. For every gift I see that says to me "oh that is so . . . (insert friend/family member's name here)", there's at least ten more that make me think "huh?"

They may be funny, they may be cool ideas in theory, but would you really want them as presents???

Well, perhaps some of them . . .

Take this for example . . . it may look like an ordinary sat-nav system (actually what the fuck do I know about cars??? I don't even have a licence!) but it's not. It's a sat-nag. Rather than giving you ordinary sat-nav type instructions like directions, it apparently comes out with gems such as "I know you're a man, but it's been 35 minutes now, so can you please admit you're lost and ask someone the way".

Now, perhaps a controversial point, but I can't help but wonder if the first reaction of a guy opening this present is possibly going to be "isn't that what my girlfriend is for???"

Next up . . . it's the plug mug. Genius. Tired of everyone stealing your mug in work? Well now you have one which comes with a special plug. You keep the plug on your person and then no one can drink out of it. After all you don't want the mug to leak all over you, right???

Admittedly, I can sort of see the point of this one. But what if you lose the plug? You're kinda screwed then . . .

In my own case, I'm probably just more likely to forget to put it in before I attempt to make some green tea. Ouch . . .

Forget Top Trumps. Now there's Plop Trumps . . .

Now I'm not as offended by poo as a lot of people I know. In fact, I find the word "jobby" hilarious. But I don't particularly want to play a game that involves pictures of poo and includes categories such as "hardness", "length" and "smelliness". Would you?

Actually, scratch that question. I really don't want to know . . . .

Gel and water filled bras are soooo last season if you're wanting to make your boobs look bigger. Instead. why not try this - the Wine Rack? Basically, you're store a drink in it. Which is kinda cool in a "hold on a minute, I'm drinking wine/coke/beer/whatever from a straw stored inside my bra" sort of way. In other words, kinda unhygenic but pretty handy at the same time.

The added bonus to the gross/useful factor?

It increases your cup size - albeit temporarily. Now, there's a selling point in my book . . .

Who said baths were meant to be relaxing??? Why not experience the thrill of an Underwater Disco Lightshow instead?

I think I'll pass. But thanks for the thought . . .

"Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty. Come on, come closer. Don't look at me like that - I JUST WANT TO JAM THIS PENCIL UP YOUR ARSE!!!"


Yes, it's a pencil sharpener.

It could possibly be just what I always wanted.

Or perhaps not . . .

Or perhaps it is a crawling zombie that should be top of my Christmas list.

I think this thing would scare the shit out of me.

Plop Trumps anyone???

And last but not least, what about the ultimate disposable game - Chocolate Scrabble???

If you're losing, just stuff your face with the evidence. Excellent!!!

(All of the above gifts come courtesy of Firebox and I Want One Of Those)


I've actually started my Christmas shopping now. And it didn't include anything mentioned in this post. (I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing!) And I know it's still over a month away from Christmas but I'm starting to feel just a tad festive. Please don't judge. There's been Christmas stuff in the shops since mid-September, so I've actually stopped myself from getting excited about Christmas for quite some time now.

One of the other main things that I like about Christmas? The cheesy Christmas songs. There's so many I like. But the best, hands down??? It HAS to be this one. Enjoy!!!

Wednesday, 19 November 2008


So there's something that remains forever a mystery to me - and for once, I don't actually mean the male of the species . . .

So what am I referring to, I hear you ask? (Well, technically speaking, I can't hear you ask, since I'm sitting in a room myself. So either it's the little voices in my head, or I'm just imagining what you're thinking right now. Anyway, I digress.)

I'm talking about people who can't seem to walk in a straight line.

And not because they're drunk. I know that would be the obvious reason (hell, it's the reason why I can't usually walk in a straight line) but it's weirder than that.

I've noticed this strange phenomenon after years of test studies (ie. having people almost walk into me on many an occasion) - some people cannot seem to walk in a straight line while doing the one of the following things . . .

1) Smoking
2) Speaking on the phone

Both confuse me greatly. I mean, after the physical act of lighting a cigarette, surely you can watch where you are going and walk at the same time. Surely after the act of locating a number in your phone and putting it to your ear, you can watch where you're going and . . . you see where I'm going here? . . . walk at the same time. Why is it apparently so difficult for certain people to do this?

I see it happen so often. I'll be walking along the street and the person in front of me, who was previously walking in a relatively straight time, suddenly starts veering all over the place. Instantly I wonder "cigarette or phone?" It's always one or the other. I don't understand it. I mean, I can send a text message and still walk in a straight line. Surely that takes far more coordination than smoking/walking or talking/walking? No?

Today I was walking home and saw a woman coming towards me and veering back and forward a bit. "Cigarette or phone?" I thought straight away, squinting in the darkness (I only had one contact lens in and my eyesight is more fucked at night anyway) to see if I could tell from a distance.

Eventually I saw she was on the phone while smoking a fag and not walking in a straight line.

A true multi-tasker.


The first thought that struck me as I tried to work out how to get past her without a direct collision was that I had thought perhaps doing both things would cancel everything out. That if you smoke, talk and walk, perhaps it all balances out. Maybe you would walk in an extremely straight line.

Apparently not.

Secondly, given that she was barely pausing for breath during her conversation, I wondered what the point was of her actually having a lit cigarette in her hand at all. Not that I asked. (The lit cigarette could have been used as a weapon . . . )

Sometimes I wonder if I'm imagining things. But it's happened waaayyyyy too often for it to just be a coincidence. Has anyone else noticed this? Or is it just me???

Tuesday, 18 November 2008


My first kiss happened at a party a guy at school had while his parents were away on holiday (I was very jealous as my parents would NEVER have left me in the house myself at that age.) I was 16 at the time (VERY late starter, right?) and this was also the first night I got drunk. I'd had a couple of drinks when a guy from my class came up to me and asked me if I wanted to "get off" (Scot-talk for snogging - I don't know what the kids are calling it these days!) with a guy I knew vaguely. I wasn't sure, didn't really fancy him or anything, but I figured "fuck it, I may as well get it over with, see what all the fuss is about." So I went into the darkened "kissing" room and started snogging him. Fair enough. I wasn't particularly excited by the whole thing (in ANY way) but I thought "well I've started now, may as well keep doing it for a while."

That was the Friday night. On the Monday morning, on my walk into school, I remembered something . . .

The dude I'd kissed was in my registration class.

Suddenly mortification hit. How was I EVER going to face him again??? I didn't fancy him. I didn't want HIM to fancy ME. I also didn't want HIM to think that I fancied HIM. This was a DISASTER (Yes, I DO have a tendency to make a mountain out of a molehill . . .). So sure enough I went into class, tried to avoid him and not make eye contact. And within a couple of hours, one of his friends had asked me out on his behalf. Apparently he thought I looked like Shannon from Home & Away aka Isla Fisher (at the time my hair was kind of reddish as I'd not long started bleaching it but that was the only similarity). Apparently he'd really liked me for ages. I felt really bad that I didn't like him, really embarrassed I'd possibly lead him on by actually snogging him, and just altogether awkward. This feeling went on for the rest of high school (even after he snogged half my friends afterwards) and even in fourth year of uni I saw him in the library one day and had to hide from him!

This has happened to me a few times. It happened at uni when I snogged a guy at the Christmas night out and then had to sit right in front of him in a lecture for the entirety of the next semester while his friends sniggered. It's happened with people I've worked with. It's happened with guys I've known from childhood who were five years younger than me and really I should have known better . . .

The thing is, the only reason I get embarrassed is if I don't really feel like I have any romantic interest in them. Like I've snogged them just for the hell of it, or because I was really pissed, or because I really don't KNOW why, or . . . for all of the above. I feel like I've given them the wrong idea. And it all seems to relate back to that first snog I ever had.

But anyway, there seems to be this "snogging zone" with me (hence the post title - you may have worked that one out). This isn't a physical space, it's a state of mind. Say I've snogged someone wildly inappropriate, or whatever. And I KNOW I probably shouldn't have done it. BUT I've already entered the zone. So I kinda figure "I'll just go with it" and continue to stick my tongue down the guy's throat. While I'm still in the zone, it's fine. It's a whole "I've started so I'll finish" mentality.

It's only later, when I'm alone (ie. "left the zone") that I start to think "shit, what did I just do?" I overthink things, dread the next time I might potentially have to see them, and wonder just how embarrassing it might be.

Now I know this isn't a big deal for most people, I DO realise that. I don't actually think every guy is looking for an opportunity to get with me, I don't believe people read that much into snogging either. But my brain seems to have too much time to stress out over this stuff. I don't know why. If I SLEPT with all of them rather than just snogging, my brain would probably have spontaneously combusted by now.

But basically the rules of the "snogging zone" appear to be while you're in the zone, you can snog as much as you want, regardless of any possible consequences. After you leave the zone, the incident is never mentioned again. You can no longer look at the person. You can no longer have a conversation with them OR if you can talk to them it's without being able to look them in the eye. If you ever run into them again, then it's going to be a tad awkward.

It's been a while since I've been in close proximity to the zone at all.

Until last weekend, that is . . .

Monday, 17 November 2008

Why I Should Work To Improve My Decision Making

So what's going on here then? Well due to one of my ever so useful traits of saying I'll do things and then partially forgetting about them (but not quite), I am writing a post over here for the 20SB blog swap. I should probably go ahead and introduce myself really. My name is Ben and you can find my regular blog over here (where you will see that Paula has already kept up her end of the bargain). This is the first time I've done a guest post on anyone's blog so it is slightly nerve-wracking, yet also quite exciting.

I will warn you that I am coming into this post almost entirely under prepared (even though I have thought about it throughout the day, and even took my notebook into work with the intention of drafting an entry in it). So hopefully things will turn out well and this won't end up being a spontaneous turd dropped from a great height (messy). I do have the talent for fluffing along without really saying anything once I get going, so bear with me and you might be able to extract something resembling an organised collection of thoughts.

Luckily I tend to do quite a bit of thinking, some would say to the detriment of actually doing things. It does make me wonder whether people who appear not to have this problem really spend less time thinking or that their though process is simply more efficient. I've always been envious of the kind of person who, when presented with a number of options can make a choice in a split second, seemingly going with their gut and not assessing the benefits or downfalls of their path of action. Sure, so spending five minutes deciding whether I want a Lion bar or a Toffee Crisp from a vending machine probably is pushing it a bit far (if you know anything about either chocolatey snack you'll know how similar they are in a lot of ways), but aren't small decisions worth taking time over just a much as the big ones? (Stop shouting 'NO!' at the screen, I can hear you).

I think this indecisiveness probably holds me back somewhat, with the fact that I still don't really know what I want to do with my life despite having a good number of years to ponder just that being a good indication that I should simply grow up and get with the program. Yeah, that doesn't sound like much fun to me either.

If the world worked in a way where people would simply offer you a range of jobs and you simply decided that "Yeah, that sounds alright to me" and went about your business that I would be a lot happier. Unfortunately you have to go through the process of deciding which direction you are going to take long before you have any real idea of how much you would really enjoy the thing you are aiming for. Go through school, pick a degree, gain some experience doing a shitty job in the same field, get into the job you think you wanted to realise that "fuck, this is a big pile of shit" sounds like an entirely possible chain of events. Hence why I've always kept my options pretty open, maybe because there are a lot of thing I could see myself doing (and I am super talented after all), or maybe because I fear ending up hating what I'm doing and the prospect of starting the cycle again from the beginning.

Aaaannnd stop!

See, that's what happens when I start with no real subject matter. I start to sound like an angsty teenager all over again. Quick, attempt to diffuse the situation with a crudely drawn cartoon!

Aye captain!

*my cat can't actually speak.


. . . there WILL be a bit of a blog swap going on today. I will be over here and in turn Ben will be over here. I hope you will check us both out . . .

Sunday, 16 November 2008


I had a nice quiet night in last night (trust me, after all that went on Friday night, I NEEDED the chance to recover) and it was great. I watched "X-Factor", finished off a book and read a second, made a start on my online Christmas shopping (can I just say that this website is fab if you're looking for some cool but reasonably priced jewellery for someone?) and basically just chilled out. It was great. Anyway, it got to about half past midnight and I was idly considering going to bed early(ish) when my phone started ringing. It was my sister to say she was out and could she come and crash at mine.

Despite the fact she was meant to be in Great Western Road at the time of the original phone call, which isn't very far from my flatshare, it took her about another hour to arrive. (Good thing I hadn't been all that serious about the early night thing). As she was full of booze, she passed out fairly quickly and I was sober (I know, for a change!) so it took me a while to get to sleep.

For some reason, my sister is the only person I can share a bed with easily. I'm not sure if it's because we've had to do it so often as kids on holiday etc and because I don't feel bad about tossing and turning, or stealing the blanket back if she hogs it or whatever. As I was lying there, I was thinking about the fact that I have lived here for over five years and actually have had to share a bed with quite a few people.

In the time of me using this bed, I'd shared it with three different guys (two of which started entirely platonically - or so I thought anyway) and several female friends too. My friend C used to stay over on many occasions in the early days of me living here - that was before she had a kid she had to get home to though. My friend M from uni stayed here a couple of weekends to escape her family. One time me, my sis and C ALL shared the bed - which was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life as it's only a queen sized bed and i was squashed between the two of them and didn't have enough space to even lie flat on my back.

I've also had the "we have to talk" conversation on this bed (fully dressed, obviously), more than once. When you don't have a lot of furniture to sit on in your room, I suppose that's inevitable though. Anyway, I try not to think of those moments. They just make me feel like crap.

I guess perhaps ultimately it's not just a bed thing. Maybe it's a flat thing. I feel like since I moved into this flatshare, so much has happened to me. Some things good, some things bad, some things I never expected in a million years might happen to me. It's been an adventure, that's for sure.

Perhaps that's why I'll have been here five and a half years in January and yet I'm reluctant to move on . . .

Saturday, 15 November 2008


To the Royal Mail . . . why did you run away so fast after pressing the doorbell the other day to supposedly deliver some stuff? Despite the fact that my ill-in-bed flatmate struggled to the door and shouted "Hello? I'm here!!!" after your retreating footsteps? Did you actually HAVE said deliveries WITH you??? Or was it all just a big con to make me have to wake up early ON A SATURDAY to go to the delivery office???

To the Royal Mail Delivery office . . . first of all, you need a bigger waiting area for people collecting their shit. Seriously, it is waaaayyy too cramped, and there were so many people waiting! Plus, I know this bit isn't really YOUR fault (it's the bastard postman who didn't deliver the stuff to my flat in the first place) but did you HAVE to have so many packages for me? Not only could I not fit them all in the plastic bag I'd brought along for the exact purpose, two of them were so awkwardly shaped that I virtually had to juggle them along with the bag on the walk back home. PLUS I had too much stuff to go to the supermarket en route for food shopping as originally planned. Thanks for that.

To my keyring . . . why did you somehow manage to LOSE one of my keys. (I DID find it, by the way, it was on my bed in the end). I ended up getting a lecture from my flatmate for drinking too much and taking the last subway home rather than a taxi - but if I hadn't phoned her crying, begging her to let me in, I may have . :( I've learned my lesson though.

To all rose wine . . . why are you so good and yet so bad??? (and why after drinking you did I think it made sense to steal a whole bottle of mayonnaise from a pub?)

To the universe . . . why the constant fucking with my life? Just wondering.

To Rhodes . . . I'm looking forward to seeing you next year . . . :)


I went to type in "Urgh" as a post title there and it appears I've already got a post called that? Okay, go figure and all that.

I had an interesting night last night. It pretty much started with me having it suggested, "Oh let's go to O'Henry's", a pub I've not been to in about four years, only to walk in and see someone I knew all too well propping up the bar. What are the chances? So many bars and pubs in Glasgow and I walk into that one???

So we went elsewhere. Several other elsewheres, in fact! And so much happened, although I have no idea HOW it happened or anything.

And somewhere along the line, my flat key went missing. Not all my keys, just my flat key. Weird, right?.

Oh, and the reason I'm posting this at six in the morning? I passed out fully dressed on my bed when I got home. Just woke up now.

Damn rose wine . . .

Friday, 14 November 2008


Remember how I posted this advert on Sunday? (The Barclaycard one where the guy's commute home involved a waterslide if you can't remember or can't be bothered clicking on the link?)

Despite how much fun it is, I had a couple of wonderings about it . . .

1) Won't it be a total bugger to get planning permission?
2) Is that dude the only person who uses it? If so, did he have to pay to get it installed?
3) If not, is he having to pay a fare to use it every day?
4) Since it was pretty apparent that there was a waterslide in the library (it was smack bang in the middle of it) why did it appear to surprise people when the guy appeared on the slide and then got stuck???
5) Since all he was wearing was underwear, where did he keep his Barclaycard?
6) The slide really can only be one-way, right? How does he get to work in the morning?

Thoughts? Any further questions you can think of? Feel free to share...

Thursday, 13 November 2008


So I decided to take part in a little game, courtesy of Strict Shenanigist (well, she got it from someone else, but . . . you know!). So I have to list 10 things that I love with the letter of her choice. And she gave me . . . (drum roll please!) . . . S!!!

Hmmm. So in no particular order . . .

1) Spaghetti carbonara. Yum. Love the stuff. (Only problem is that restaurant-made is always better and it's such a bugger to eat in public!)
2) Sitcoms. I always like something that makes me laugh. I'll even take it further and name sitcoms that I LOVE with the letter S. "Spaced", "Seinfeld" and "Scrubs"! That was impressive, right? (Any chance I can put a silent S in front of "Friends"??? No???)
3) Snogging. (It's been a while.)
4) Sex. (You must have known that one was coming. Although, once again, it's been a while...)
5) Sneezing (isn't it like 1/8 of an orgasm or something like that? No wonder I get embarrassed doing it in public . . . )
6)Scented candles (is that cheating? I don't care!)
7)Spears. As in "Britney, bitch!
8)Shampoo. It's nice to get your hair squeaky clean.
9)Sillyness. (Is that a word? If it's not, I'm sure you still know what I mean!)
10)Shoes. (Well, duh.)

If you want to take part, why not stop by Strict Shenanigist and ask her for a letter - if she has any left, that is?


My friend from Ireland is coming over for the weekend and I am soooo excited about it. I haven't saw her in over 2 years now and we only really keep contact via email so it will be nice to catch up in person. And, man, do we have loads to catch up on!!!

She obviously has other people to hang out with other than moi, of course (as fabulous as I am, I can't keep her to myself, lol!) but this just means I can spend the rest of the weekend chilling. And believe me, this has just been a week I have wanted to get over with from start to finish.

My anger of last week has turned to general depression now. I'm not sure why. As ever I can't pinpoint any specific reason, there's just loads of stuff. My job has been getting me down, on and off. My life outside of work is okay, don't get me wrong, but I have a lot of personal stuff going on in my head, and it's all messed up and I find it hard to even straighten it out inside. Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever going to be happy - like PROPERLY happy. I can have moments when I am almost deliriously happy (like ten minutes ago when I realised my UGG boots had finally arrived and I wouldn't have to suffer from the curse of cold feet EVER AGAIN!!!) and then next thing I feel like shit again. I sometimes wonder if I'm going to just always revert to a default mode of misery. Ironically, the one person (in the real world, I mean!) I think might understand where I'm coming from, that might REALLY "get" it, is someone I no longer feel like I can confide in.

And what am I supposed to do when I hear that someone who I already know dislikes me (not that I can strictly blame them but I can't apologise anymore than I already did - and frankly, the longer it goes on, the more I wish I hadn't bothered!) has been now making a dig at me in a PROFESSIONAL capacity??? I seriously don't think that's on. I don't want to get all biblical on anyone's ass but he who casts the first stone and all that. Sometimes I wish I could just be left alone to just get on with things. I feel like all I've done all week is help out people, but got no thanks for it. I don't think that's helping MY state of mind.

I just hope things take a turn for the better soon because right now everything is just stressing me out. Hopefully the weekend will help me wind down a little and de-stress a lot. Fingers crossed . . .

So anyone got any nice plans for this weekend anyway??? :)

Wednesday, 12 November 2008


I love Christmas. One of my favourite things (apart from silly cheesylicious Christmas movies on the telly, having time off work and having an excuse to drink lots of alcohol) is the present part. I know, I know - I'm such a heathen. But fuck it, I LIKE presents. And I like giving them nearly as much as I like to get them.

Choosing presents is fun. Not nearly as fun as the part when you have everything wrapped and organised, and don't need to worry about it anymore, but it's fun. Looking through the internet for ideas, trying to select something you feel most closely matches the wants of the loved one. I'm just stressing my head off that I haven't even STARTED yet (last year I had most of my Christmas shopping FINISHED by now!).

Anyway, in an effort to try and remedy my extreme crapness this year and actually BEGIN my Christmas shopping, I have spent the past couple of lunchtimes googling "great gift ideas" and visiting gift sites in an effort to get some sort of inspiration for the ultimate presents. Neither of which most of THESE are . . .

For a start, courtesy of . . . What do I get the girl/guy who has everything and/or who doesn't really DESERVE a present?? Oh yeah, a lump of coal . . . but not just ANY LUMP of coal. Why? Because IT'S IN A TIN!!! Wow.

That's certainly the best fiver I'VE ever spent . . .

Now, a bottle of wine would be a good present for me.
Me likey.
Me likey VERY MUCH.
BUT . . . a bottle of wine TRAPPED INSIDE A PUZZLE???
Are you fucking KIDDING me??
You cannot expect to give ME a present like that and not have me hit you over the head with it.
Perhaps THAT will help free the bottle from the puzzle and make it far easier for me to drink . . .

A Margaret Thatcher nutcracker. Genius, right? Because I'm always thinking I need a nutcracker. And I really want the place to crack them to be underneath our former Prime Minister's skirt. Ew . . . .

Potential Secret Santa present??? Yay, a Naughty Weekend set. Wow, for 29.99 I can have ALL THIS???

N.B. DON'T buy this for me. Apparently the price DOESN'T include a partner. Boo!!!

Or how about THESE choice items from Find Me A Gift . . .

So does THIS one include a partner???
Apparently not. No point in me ringing for sex if no one is gonna come a-running, right???

Okay so it's cute. But would you REALLY want a desktop vaccuum cleaner for your Christmas??? (Actually some people might but not me!!!)

Scented erasers. Does anyone really use pencils these days anyway???

The world's cleverest idea, right? Sudoku toilet paper. So at what point am I meant to DO the sudoku? Before? After? Do I sit on the toilet until I've finished the puzzle, regardless of the fact I stopped peeing half an hour before? (I'm VERY bad at sudokus). Do I feel bad if I waste the toilet paper by needing to use it before I can DO a puzzle??? Man, I feel guilty already and I haven't even been GIVEN the stuff yet . . .

Oh and do you know anyone who has recently been through a break-up or divorce???

Well, then perhaps you should try this place for some inspiration.

Set of venereal disease plush dolls?

A wedding ring coffin?

A boyfriend arm pillow? (Actually that one sounds quite good. No judging!!!)

Or the ULTIMATE "Who Needs a Man?" wineglass? Excellent.

Rub it right in there, you coupled folk. Salt in the wound, and all that.

I recommend the dolls myself . . .

Tuesday, 11 November 2008


. . . I dreaded it happening.

I knew it wasn't going to work out. That all my fears, all the shit I have been experiencing of late was just going to be scoffed at.

I'm glad you found it so fucking hilarious, I really did...

Once I thought you were my best friend. Now I know you can't even be that much for me. How could I get you so wrong? Be such a bad judge of character? Let someone "know" me so much, let them humiliate me so much???

The fact of the matter is no matter how hard you try, will you ever get someone who understands that insane sense of humour??? No. You might think you do. But it won't last. Whatever. You'll work it out too late anyway. And it's already too late . . .

It's not a matter of being "professional" or whatever. It's a matter of being a friend. I can't believe I sat back and thought you were TRYING to be a friend to me. Texting me, joking with me, confiding in me . . . fuck that. Clearly I read too much into things. I thought you wanted to be a friend. I was obviously wrong.

If this is how you're going to treat me now . . . then you clearly don't know me at all.

Monday, 10 November 2008


I'm writing this post right now without really knowing what the title of it is. Hopefully some bolt of inspiration will hit me between the eyes as I type and there won't be some stupid/cheesy/downright crappy title above these words as you read them. I'm not very good at titles though, so I don't hold out much hope.

Sometimes I really miss being in a relationship. I do. The main things? The silly text messages and private jokes. The cuddling. The fact you feel like someone understands you all of a sudden, perhaps "gets" you in a way no one has ever got you before. It's nice to feel wanted. Being single can be lonely at times. Pretty damn hard, in fact. Especially when it feels like everyone around you is in a relationship.

At other times, I'm perfectly happy not to be. I've said this before and I'll say it again - I don't really have TIME for a relationship. Looking back sometimes, I don't know how I ever made time. I have a fairly hectic social life a lot of the time and combined with working 35 hours a week and the fact I am essentially a loner and therefore need lots of "me"-time . . . I don't really understand how I managed to squeeze another person, another "hobby", into my life in the past, and I certainly can't work out how I will again. There never seems to be enough time in the day and, to be perfectly honest, it tends to be only when I'm trying to wind down and sleep that part of me wishes I had someone else curled around me in bed, a comforting presence to help send me to sleep.

(That being said, I'm not actually very good at sharing a bed with anyone. I like to spread out, toss and turn to my heart's content and hog the duvet cover. When it comes to bedsharing avec moi, I'm definitely hard work . . .)

There's another thing. I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I'm not good at relationships. Some people seem to have a talent for them, can easily move on from one to another . . . I can't do this. And I can't seem to make one last either. The guy seems entertained enough by me in the first couple of months . . . then it rapidly goes downhill from there. They lose interest, just don't seem to want to spend any time with me anymore. I can always sense the end before it happens. I can feel the guy pulling away. I start to think "fuck, why can't he just END it already, end my pain?" Yet, then when it DOES end, it still takes me by surprise, and hurts even more than I ever expected.

I don't know what it is I do to turn them off me. Maybe I'll never know. Maybe I'm destined to just spend my life drifting from one relationship to another. In fact, I can barely do that. I can count the number of times a bloke has shown obvious interest in me in the past six months or so on one hand. With a couple of fingers to spare. Actually getting INTO a relationship is even more difficult for me than keeping hold of one once I'm in it.

I mentioned last week that I was asked out. It was by the guy I mentioned that I met at the Hallowe'en party the other week. I thought about it, don't get me wrong. But ultimately I couldn't do it. I know most people would be like "Oh, it's just a date, what's the big deal?" But to me it was false pretences. Because I hadn't felt any chemistry with him. At all. He was the only single guy at the party, I was the only single girl he'd never met before - it was almost as if we had gravitated towards each other by default. In fact, if I think back, he gravitated towards ME. I tried to back off. I don't remember him making me laugh, or me feeling particularly attracted to him. All I remembered was that he was a good bit younger than me and had a little girl. (To be honest, the last thing I need is a much younger dude with baggage. I have enough baggage - emotional baggage, in my case - of my own for two people.)

I thought about it for a couple of days, but I couldn't help but compare him. To the guy I met in London, who I clicked with almost immediately in the space of a couple of hours - there was chemistry there. To my most recent ex . . . we could always find mutual silliness in even the most mundane of things, being around him you could always be guaranteed a giggle (even until recently - until he suddenly, seemingly, decided last month to drop me as even a friend.) To all the guys I've had flirtations with, however brief . . . I didn't feel anything with the guy last week. Apart from feeling like I should feel something but I just couldn't. I don't think I should go out with a guy I have no interest in, just because he's single. But I still considered it . . .

One thing that's good about our whole social-networking generation though? It's easy to weed out no-nos from potential soulmates. Man, I hadn't stalked anyone in ages, but this guy's profile was public and only a couple of clicks away and I figured since I couldn't remember much else about him apart from the lack of chemistry, that I would check his profile out. I figured that would make up my mind one way or the other. And that it did. I just saw nothing that piqued my interest, nothing that made me want to know more about him. I could only see that he called a girl a "burd" in the captions of one of his pictures (calling a girl a "bird" is bad enough but to not even spell it right???). Yes, I know, I felt like Chandler in "Friends" in that episode where it's revealed he dumps girls for really stupid reasons. But I couldn't help it. I just knew it wasn't there. I'm sure other girls would have looked at the profile and went the opposite way. But I just couldn't.

I take things too seriously I know. I couldn't tell you one hundred per cent what I'm looking for in a guy. (None of my previous boyfriends fit into the same mould, or could be remotely considered to be.) But I know what I'm not looking for. And he just wasn't it.

Maybe I'm destined to be on my own. Perhaps I'll end up being a "cat lady" (if I can be guaranteed they won't make my eyes swell up first, that is). I just don't want to be with someone just for the sake of it. I don't particularly want to get hurt again either, although I know that's an unrealistic thing to hope for, especially judging by my track record. But I'm not someone who can flit from one relationship to the next without thought for the previous one. I'm not someone who can't cope on my own - I've spent most of my life single and I'm more used to that than I am used to being in a couple. I know that there's going to be times when I'm going to want to be in a relationship - the upcoming holiday season, for example - but I suppose I need to look at the positive side. One less present to buy, for example. Free to do whatever the hell I like, go to whatever parties I choose, flirt with anyone I want to flirt with (within reason, of course). Stay in and stuff my face with chocolates if I want (hopefully the diet will be on hold at that point).

And hopefully, if (when!) I do meet someone else I think might be worth it . . . I'll not let the relationship define me like I suspect I may have in the past. Because perhaps that is what the problem has been. Perhaps that's why I have such a bad history.

Whether or not I'll ever know for definite though is another story. And I don't know what that ending will be . . .


Thanks to Agent Elle, who has passed the bookworm award baton onto me.

Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 56. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The CLOSEST BOOK, NOT YOUR FAVORITE, OR MOST INTELLECTUAL!

The closest book to me is the one I started reading last night - "One Night at the Call Centre" by Chetan Bhagat. I'm not sure I'm going to keep reading it yet - and by going to page 56 I was actually skipping ahead in the book!!!

"My mother needs professional help," Priyanka said. "She really does."
"What happened?" I swirled the straw in my Coke, making little fizzy drops implode.

Wow, was that intellectually stimulating or what???

I don't have time to think of anyone to tag for this as I've kinda gotta get finished getting ready for work but feel free to do it if you wish!

Sunday, 9 November 2008


. . . but I would be looking forward to it even more if I could use the below method of transport to get home . . .

Awesome, right???


Flatmate: Do you like salt and vinegar flavoured kettle crisps?
Me: Yeah, I guess so, why?
Flatmate: I bought some last night but I didn't end up eating them. I don't want them sitting there tempting me now, so I'm trying to get them out of my room. You want them?
Me: (eagerly) Okay.
(slight pause)
Me: Only because it will help you, of course.
Flatmate: Yes, of course that's what it is.

Yes, if anyone ever needs me to eat food on their behalf . . . I am 100 % there for you, okay??? Never forget that.

Unless it's bananas. I hate bananas.

Saturday, 8 November 2008


. . . to the X-Factor.

And I'm quite embarrassed about it.

You know, normally I actually only watch the audition part of it. Come on, it's bloody funny after all, no, sometimes even HILARIOUS! Especially when you get the little sob stories or whatever beforehand or someone going on about how good they are and then they turn out to be utter crap. Why are people so delusional? They say their friends and family tell them they're amazing singers - is this some horrible practical joke their friends and family are playing on them???

And I have to confess some of the auditions have actually had me in tears

Fortunately the people in the first clip didn't make it through to the live show - unfortunately that girl didn't, which I was gutted about because she seemed so sweet.

Anyway, usually after the auditions, I stop watching. This time though . . . I just haven't been able to. It's getting serious this time, because everyone is just so good, I can't stop watching!!! I don't WANT to watch it, but I can't help it. I really am addicted!!!

At the moment, I'm not sure who is going to win, but I'm pretty sure it will be one of the girls. After all, two out of three of the groups have already gone, and two out of three of the boys have gone too.

My favourites? I know you didn't ask, but hey I'm telling you anyway. Ha.

Ruth is great. Because she's Spanish though, Simon gets annoyed every time she DOESN'T sing in Spanish. She thinks it would be rude of her to do that considering she is in a UK competition. I can sort of see both points but I think she's got a great voice.

Laura has apparently been tipped by Dannii Minogue to win the contest, despite the fact she is in Cheryl Cole's group, not Dannii's . . .

Alexandra actually almost made it through to the live show in 2005 (I think?) but Louis Walsh decided she was too young. This time she made it through and reminds me a lot vocally of Whitney Houston.

I think this is the one I want to win though. She doesn't have the strong voice like the other girls but she is just a bit quirky and different. Although half the time she looks like she could do with giving her hair a good brush (which is a bit of a cheek coming from me since I didn't brush my hair all week last week but hey, I'M not the one on tv, right Diana???)

I feel like it will have to be one of these girls who win. Perhaps I'm wrong. But it does seem to me that the girl who won X-Factor previously is the only one people really remember. Did you ever hear of Steve Brookstein? Or Leon Jackson? No??? But I bet you know this girl . . .


Is there really a theme today? Nah, not really. Just some songs I like. No explanations. No "oh I like this because". Just cos I really can't be arsed. It's not really a proper post anyway, just too lazy and down to write anything right now.

Friday, 7 November 2008


When I was a child, like most other children, I always wanted a pet.

Any type of pet would have made me happy, I imagine. Snakes and spiders aside, obviously. (Ew, a shiver runs down my spine just thinking of having to look after something like that!) My friend who lived down the street had a rabbit called Magic. It would have been fun. I wouldn't even have minded cleaning out the hutch. Several of my friends had cats - I wouldn't have minded one of them - easy to look after since they're independent and all. (I've since revised my opinion of cats though after the last two I was remotely friendly to made my eyes swell up for several days but back then I didn't have a problem with them.) I wouldn't even have minded a GOLDFISH or two. Better than nothing! One of my friends had a dog called Muffin, though. She was a Lhasa Apso and was actually the cutest little bundle of fur you ever did see. I was dying for one of my own.

But no. My parents never let me have a pet.

Probably a good thing. I can barely look after myself. But back then, I was extremely sad about this.

It means when people ask me what my "porn star" name is (based on your first pet's name and your mother's maiden name) I had NOTHING for a first name. I had to use my first teddy bear instead and, let's face it, Cuddles Tonner does NOT sound like the kind of person you would find starring in "Explosion . . . in your Face." It was just EMBARRASSING.

Now I KNOW what I should have done in order to get a dog.

I should have, first of all, ensured my parents had been born in the USA. This would serve a dual purpose since it always seemed a more fun place to live than Scotland anyway.

Then I would have encouraged my dad to run for president. Now, I realise this may be a slightly unrealistic dream but I'm sure my dad would be a good president. He ran for a place on our schoolboard when I was in high school and he had a far better reason as to why he would be good for the post than anyone else - well, I think he did, at the time he used lots of big words I didn't understand but it sounded impressive to me. Also, because he was a university lecturer before he retired this summer, he's obviously used to talking in front of people. And he's a very clever man.

So if he had put his mind to it, I'm sure he COULD have been president. And a very good one.

But anyway . . . once I'd convinced him to run for president and he'd done all the stuff president wannabes need to do and managed to win the election . . . then I'd FINALLY get my dog. "But it's TRADITION, daddy," I would wail. "The White House ALWAYS has a dog."

Things could have been so different . . .


The pretty lights above Royal Exchange Square in Glasgow - apologies for the poor quality of my camera phone - bad LG Prada, bad bad!!!
My last post is gone. My choice. Last night in my inebriated and irritated state I wanted the person to know how much they were winding me up. Now I don't. Why make it easier for the person to do so? I'm better off protecting myself.

The comments are noted though. :)

Anyway, I thought I would re-link to my virtual date with Ben from No Ordinary Rollercoaster. It was a memorable night, that's all I can say . . .

Oh, and I didn't actually make it to the fireworks last night. I got all ready, and me and the person I was going with enjoyed a glass or two of rose wine while waiting for the other person we were going with. Now I KNOW what you're thinking - we didn't miss it because we got too drunk! We just forgot that we had to go via the Swarovski shop in Buchanan Galleries to pick up a present for someone (late night shopping) and so we heard the fireworks starting as we left the Galleries. We half walked half ran to try and make it, knowing there was no chance of making it to Glasgow Green, but hoping we could at least make it to a place where we would be able to see them in the distance. Just as we got to a place down near the bridge where we should be able to see it . . . it finished. Seriously - at that exact moment, all the noise stopped. Gutting. We'd came all the way into town for nothing.

The logical thing then, since we HAD came all the way into town for nothing (except for the present that is!), was to grab a quick drink. Well, OBVIOUSLY, right??? So we went to the first pub that was a) presentable enough and 2) had some spare tables. In this case, O'Neills in Queen Street. Which was all well and good apart from the fact that one of my friends chose to turn up in that very bar that night. It's always nice to see my friends, it's just a bit typical as I had told her I wasn't going out this week due to trying to stick to my diet and she comes in that exact pub (which is one NEITHER of us tend to frequent!) to see me with a glass of white and a glass of Baileys (neither of which are exactly renowned for their waist trimming properties) in front of me. Okay, I never lied about not wanting to go out, the only reason I'd came out in the first place was for the fireworks, the drink had just been a side effect of missing them. But I felt guilty all the same, like she had caught me in a lie.

Anyway, then I went home and one of my flatmates made pizza from scratch. Man it was delicious. Then I went to bed (or, to be more honest, passed out on top of my bed with the laptop on top of me - been a while since I did that!). I'm pretty glad I have the day off today as I am feeling slightly dodgy, my head is thudding a tad, and all I can think about is there is a couple of slices of pizza left in the kitchen and I HOPE they have my name on them.That being said, since I'm the only one in the flat right now, I think they WILL be mine anyway.
Anyway, this wasn't even meant to BE a proper post, just some inane hungover rambling. I have a proper post planned for later I'm sure. In the meantime, I'm going to stay in bed a while longer, perhaps read some book, catch up on blog-reading, watch some dvds (I have tons of 'em to catch up on - I still have half of House Season One to watch and Ghost Whisperer Season One. I have the whole of Point Pleasant, Grey's Anatomy Season One, My So-Called Life, Fat Friends, Pushing Daisies, Chuck. AND I've just ordered Seasons 1 and 2 of The IT Crowd, Spoons, and Seasons 1-5 of Peep Show on dvd so in theory I never need to leave the flat ever again!)
Anyway, to keep you all going until my next post (because I know you all wait with bated breath between each post, after all), here's some Peep Show to keep you entertained . . .