Tuesday, 31 August 2010


I was walking into town after work to meet my sister for a drink or 20, when a guy from my work caught up with me. After I exhausted the etiquette of thanking him for inviting me to his wedding and congratulating him on a good old shindig, I kind of ran out of conversational juice. Give me a break. I'd been working hard all day, was gagging for a vino, and he wasn't making all that much of an effort.

Word to the wise. When there is a silence, when you don't make an effort to fill it, I will. And it will probably involve something weird that you don't need to know about.

Like my tights.

And how they were falling down within five minutes of me leaving the flat this morning.

And how the top of them rolled down and the rest of them wriggled down until I was terrified that the crotch of my tights was actually peaking out beneath the shorter-than-even-I-realised tea dress I was wearing.

And I was walking with my legs pushed tightly together in the hope that no one would notice.

And "did you know, there is NO attractive way to pull your tights back up???"

And how I was walking along the street, trying to look around to find a time that I COULD pull the tights up when there was no one else around, and then realising that I actually had WINDOWS On one side of me, and that there were offices contained on the other side of these windows and that in fact "just because there is glass between me and these other people doesn't mean they can't see me!!!"

Funnily enough, my colleague quickly made an excuse and walked up a random side street.

I'm not entirely sure I can blame him.

But word to the wise . . . if you're with me and there's an awkward silence? Please try and fill it . . . BEFORE I DO!!!!!

Monday, 30 August 2010


Okay, so hot on the heels of yesterday's post, here's another job related one. A commenter yesterday asked me to expand on the con artist story, and I've been asked about this in the past too. I always meant to post about it, but it is all a bit long winded so I've put it off before now. But okay . . . it's about time, I've waited over 2 years, and if I don't tell this story, you're more than likely just going to have me whining about my belated quarter life crisis, so I think I'll spare you that for now and tell you my sad tale of how naive little me (and a couple of other people) got sucked in by a big fat liar.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Back in 2003, I was working for Directory Enquiries when I got a job through my flatmate's sister, to work as a receptionist in a law firm. After a week of it, I already hated it, and resigned, saying I would work my full month's notice just so that I would have time to look for a job. Two days after I finally left the company, I got a job with Scottish Power. This wasn't ideal for me, as it meant nearly an hour on a bus each way every day, so I very quickly told my bosses in there I was looking for something else. I went for a couple of job interviews without success, and then one day I hit pay dirt. Or so I thought.

One of the agencies I was signed up with sent me on an interview for a new company starting up in the city centre. It was described to me as a property website/zine type job, where I would be a "city editor". I would be assigned to deal with a certain American city on the website, research properties that were available and source journalists and freelance writers to write pieces on the area.

Sounds good, right? To me, with my marketing degree, and my interest in magazines and websites, and my desire to travel, it sounded pretty good. I didn't think I would get it though.

I turned up to the interview and basically walked into what appeared to be a building site. The inside of the office was in the process of getting done up, and was extremely rough looking. There was another girl sitting there waiting to be interviewed (she's still a good friend of mine these days.) so I had to wait until she had her interview. Then, remarkably quickly, it was my turn.

I was welcomed by a rather large blonde American lady. Her charm was immense. In fact, she was the type of person who could have sold snow to eskimos. She blew me away with her enthusiasm for her project, talked up the job to the stage where I would have done virtually anything to get it . . . then told me I had the job.

I should have known something was wrong there. I've rarely been offered a job without actually being asked any questions.

So that was alarm bell number one.

More alarm bells that I chose to ignore followed.

1) On the first day, I was the first to turn up. She rewarded me by sending me out to buy a hammer. Do I LOOK like the sort of person who knows where to buy a hammer??? I ran about Glasgow, sweating nervously, panicking, and scared to go back unless I found one. By the time I DID get back, my new colleagues were all there and about five minutes later, she told us we could go home.

2) We were phoned by the agency every other day that week to be told that the lady's kids were sick and we didn't need to go in. But, we were assured, we would still be paid. There wasn't any question about this. Considering I don't think any of us had signed a contract at this stage, that seems a bit odd now.

3)One of the first jobs we had was to strip wallpaper off the walls in the office. Yes, because THAT was in our job description. (Oh wait, we hadn't signed anything, remember? I guess we could do whatever she wanted in that case.)

4)Another task we were asked to do was phone property companies in the States, pretending to be interested in apartments and getting the details of them. I think she wanted to steal the details and put them on HER website. I managed one call, where I ended up having to conduct an entire conversation in the worst American accent you would have ever heard. I'm pretty sure the woman on the other end of the line knew I was faking. By the end of it, I was trembling all over and bright red with shame and mortification.

5)We were told by the agency the starting salary would be between 12500 pounds and 145000 pounds dependent on experience. I was offered 12500 which at the time I was perfectly happy with. We later discovered the sole guy we worked with had been offered 14500. Two of the girls decided to kick up a fuss, and she immediately agreed to give us all 14500. Who agrees to raising four people's wages by 2 grand that easily? Hmmm.

Oh, and alarm bell number 6??? Oh . . . that would be the most important one.

She didn't pay us.

The time for being paid came and went two or three times. She would assure us there had been some sort of glitch with her bank. Naively, we would believe this. She eventually gave us cheques as an alternative. Something inside me told me not to spend that money. Sure enough, the bank returned it to me.

In the meantime, I was working a massive dent into my savings, and working up a massive debt to my mother. Neither was ideal, but I still believed that this woman would do right by us in the end.

Eventually one day, she sat us down and told us she wouldn't be able to pay us for the indefinite future. She suggested we went out and got temp jobs, and then when she had all her financial matters sorted, we could come back - and that we'd get our money back at this stage.

The weeks went past. We all found other jobs, albeit temporary ones, and it didn't appear that we would be getting the money we were owed anytime soon. A couple of us decided to go to a lawyer. But just as we were sorting out an agreement with our lawyer, HER lawyer got in touch with an agreement that we would get our money paid back to us as long as we kept the matter confidential. Or something like that. The details are a bit blurry with time, this was 6 years ago now.

(I never got that money back. Therefore I don't think I need to keep the matter confidential. Anyway, I'm not naming names.)

A month or two later, me and my friend were offered jobs again. She said she was back on her feet as a property rental company now. She offered my friend the reception role and me an admin role, but she said she wanted to get me involved in wording the adverts etc.

Yes, she knew how to push my buttons all right. She was the puppet master, I the helpless little puppet who actually believed she wanted to help us, and that she believed that I would be good at the job.

Deep down, she probably just chose the most gullible one.

I remember discussing it with my friends, my boyfriend at the time, my mum. They were all dubious, all advised me against it. But that they'd support me whatever I decided. I wish they'd all been more firm with me now, maybe if I hadn't felt I had an element of choice, I wouldn't have gone back.

But I did.

And for few months it seemed okay. Because of bank problems, she was paying us in cash and (allegedly) sorting out the income tax/national insurance side of it. It was only when we started having to fend off angry calls from landlords we started to suspect that our wages were coming from the rent that was meant to be going into THEIR pockets.

After this realisation, things started to move fast, and the last thing I really remember of the position was being locked in the office while an angry landlord banged on the door outside demanding to see my boss. I don't even REMEMBER how we got out of that one. Articles started to appear in the papers about how she was a fraudster and had been arrested for such crimes in the past. Luckily I got another temp job at that point and moved on.

I got paid for most of that second stint, but never got any of the money from the first time around.

I stayed in touch with my boss, figuring that it was better to play nice and keep in contact in the hope of getting my money, than not at all. Then, one day, just as she had been PROMISING that the money would be along shortly, I found out that two of the ex employees had decided to report her to the tv consumer programme Watchdog.

I actually contacted one of them, who I was still friendly with, and tried to convince him not to do it.

Which is when he told me that, early on in our employment with her first time around, he had been driving her to see a client and she'd went off on a rant about me and how I had a negative attitude and was always whining. He hadn't wanted to tell me at the time but since I was sticking up for her, he thought I should know.

I thought this was a bit of a cheek of her, since I had actually been the most positive about the lack of money we had received, but I continued to try to be nice to her, because I still figured that I was better off keeping her on side.

But then she just vanished completely. Her phone stopped working, and she was just gone.

I guess she had to. She did, after all, owe loads of people money. Her employees, her clients. The swanky apartment she was staying in. Probably her Tae Bo and yoga instructors she apparently had. Her sons' private school fees.

(Despite this amazing lifestyle she had, if you questioned her about the whereabouts of your wage, she would complain how skint she was and how she only had seven pounds to her name and a hole in her shoe. No matter what day you asked her on, she always had seven pounds. Which was weird. The hole in her shoe? That was just sloppy.)

I ended 2004, thanks to her, in a temp job I loathed, boyfriendless (the whole work situation had left me depressed, miserable and clingy, and he couldn't handle me anymore), without any savings, and owing my mum two grand. It took me ages to get back on track and pick myself back up again but eventually I managed it. No thanks to that woman.

I learned a few lessons from it anyway, the main one was not to be as gullible and naive. It was stupid of me to go back again, I know that now. But it certainly taught me that there are people out there who will just take, take and take some more from you.

As far as I'm aware, she's still out there. Still in this country even. Still up to her scams.

I can only hope that karma bites her in the arse one day. Because she deserves it. Bigtime.

Sunday, 29 August 2010


On the 15th August, I celebrated my fifth year in my current workplace.

Five years. Bloody hell. This is somewhat of a record for me. I've actually done two different jobs within the company, but the time I spent in BOTH of those jobs is longer than I've ever held down another post with another company.

And believe me, I've had far worse jobs. A sixteenth month stint in Directory Enquiries, where I answered between 900 and 1200 calls every day giving out phone numbers to the people of Britain who chose to call 192. Three months in the toy department of John Lewis in the run-up to Christmas. Two stints working for what turned out to be a con artist (which actually wasn't that bad a job - apart from the whole not-getting-paid thing, that is.) Two receptionist jobs that made me realise I could not under any circumstances be a receptionist EVER AGAIN. I could go on. I've had about 15 different jobs. But I won't subject you to it.

So I don't actually mind my job that much most of the time. The problem is though, I've still not managed to work out what the heck I want to do with my life. Well, I still hold out the dream of one day writing a book. But in the meantime, while I work out the kinks on that one, it would be nice to actually find my dream job.

Unfortunately, the vacancies for rose wine testers are few and far between.

And when it comes down to it, I'm pretty sure that THAT would be my dream job.

Shame. :)

Do any of you have what you deem the perfect job? If not, what would BE your dream job?

Friday, 27 August 2010


  • Having a week off from work is awesome. BUT if you spend four days in another country getting drunk, followed by doing the Glasgow Sub Crawl approximately 12 hours after you get home . . . you kinda need ANOTHER week to recover.
  • And therefore you will be exhausted for the entire working week which follows.
  • Drinking alcohol helps me get to sleep better. (See? Now I can go with the "it's medicinal" line. Medicinal wine - the new sleeping pill . . .)
  • Forgetting to take my phone to work with me makes me feel like I've had a limb amputated. I keep looking for it, and can't believe it's not there. I also then worry that people have been trying to get in touch with me ALL day . . .
  • Only to find that I have received no phone calls and one text message. Ooooh . . . the Miss Popularity 2010 could be mine ANYDAY.
  • In work, I am a stomper. The guys on my team know I'm in the office before I walk in the door. Since they told me this, I'm growing increasingly aware of it. And paranoid about it. I try NOT to stomp but it won't happen. It's not just me, at least. Apparently, according to my colleagues, most of my colleagues are other girls around the same size as me. So perhaps it's some sort of small-girl-complex. Without us even WANTING it to happen. All I know is I walked in the door this morning, caught my two colleagues already there looking at each other knowingly and laughing and, when I said "You knew that was me, didn't you?" they both laughed and agreed. How do I walk more lightly? This is a lesson I need to learn.
  • Another interesting (to me) point? When I am LEAVING for the day, I don't stomp. Related???
  • If someone MENTIONS pizza to me, I want pizza. Then and there. I WILL go home and order it.
  • I ALWAYS overorder when it comes to pizza. This results in pizza for breakfast.
  • If I DO eat pizza for breakfast, vowing to be good for the rest of the day, that is BOUND to be the day that a colleague brings a delicious treat into work. Like the most DELICIOUS cupcakes I have ever tasted.
  • I will STILL eat a cupcake. Less than two hours after my pizza breakfast.
  • The film "Stepbrothers" is actually a lot funnier than I thought it would be.
  • Cava is delicious. But then I knew that anyway. So did you, I'm sure . . .

What have YOU learned this week? Any good weekend plans?

Thursday, 26 August 2010


I have always had a tendency to get involved with guys I work with.

I guess it's only natural. I'm naturally pretty shy, I'm not GOOD at dating, I'm not good at being chatted up by a random stranger, and I don't suffer from many cases of lust-at-first-sight, as in "Oh my god, I just HAVE to have that stranger standing right across the room even though I've never met him before in my life." (I live in Glasgow, after all, not a Hollywood movie.)

(Speaking of Hollywood, think how many actors and actresses meet - or cheat - on filn sets with their co-stars. Just saying.)

So it follows, therefore, that most of the guys I DO meet and talk to are through work.

My first proper boyfriend was a colleague in the department store where I had my first fulltime job. My second was a colleague I shared a computer with for a week, during training in another job. I wasn't even attracted to him at the beginning, but by the end of that week, I had gotten to know him and liked him in a MAJOR way. He turned out to be a first class arsehole in the end (left the job and then dumped me through a friend, while having his mum fend off my phone calls) but it's formed a bit of a pattern since, the whole work romance thing.

Obviously, after several failed romances and an ill-advised fling, I realised that the whole work romance thing possibly wasn't all it was cracked up to be. So I tried the whole hooking up with a guy I went to school with thing. That was with F, of course, and it turned out to also be an F for fail (although a fun few months were had, admittedly.) Then I tried the whole meeting a guy at a party thing (Swine Guy). Look how that turned out.


So looking back it's probably not the work romance thing that failed, perhaps it was my choices. :) I dunno, What I DO know though is that when you ARE having a thing with a colleague, it certainly makes WORK more entertaining. Trust me, anything that livens one's job up is a good thing. It can be like being back at school at times - seeing the object of your crush in the classroom, or walking by in the playground. Remember how fun THAT was?

And you know what the other does for a living and who they work with, so if you're ever at a loss for conversation, at least you have that to fall back on. Work gossip CAN be fun after all. :)

You can see them even when they don't want to see you. (That sounds stalkerish. Oh well.)

On the downside though, when they break your heart, you have to see them. Even when they don't want to see you. Even when YOU don't want to see them.

I've been there. More than once. And that is a killer. Trust me.

That being said . . . I wouldn't rule a work romance out again. Unless I end up working somewhere one day where it is completely forbidden. If it's right, it's right and all that.

I guess it just depends on whether I find the right one there. :)

What's your opinion on office romances? Have you ever done it? Would you? Share your stories, don't be shy!

Tuesday, 24 August 2010


I stopped by Sainsburys in Woodlands Road on my way home from work and as I was buying my necessary comfort food, the woman behind the till asked me how my day had been.

"Awful," I said, honestly. "I hate Tuesdays." (She remarked I wasn't the first person to say that to her today. Yay for other Tuesday haters!)

Occasionally a Tuesday isn't that bad. But this one was. I can't even pinpoint the exact reason WHY it was bad. It was just blah. Or meh. Or something like that. As I went to leave work, I remarked to a colleague "Oh well, at least that's two days of the week gone. Not much left now." Yup. Wishing my life away one day at a time. Except for the weekends, that is. The weekends can go as slowly as they want to. Not that they ever will.

On the upside . . . a colleague told me today that I looked like I had lost weight. That made my day. Although (with the exception of last week where I did bugger all) I've been doing a lot more exercise than usual and have cut down significantly on my food intake (and sometimes I only drink wine like THREE nights a week - my goodness!) I've not been seeing a huge difference on the scales. But as I mentioned before I can SEE that I'm more toned. So to have someone actually NOTICE is nice. And it motivated me to do my workout this evening. Yay. :)

Anyhoo, since I've had a shitty day, I thought it was time to have a Cheer-Me-Up Tuesday edition. So what have I found to cheer me up on that grand old place we call the Internetz this week???

First up, one of the MANY hilarious customer service exchanges from Not Always Right. Seriously, if you don't already frequent this site, why the heck not???

Me: “Thank you for calling [Cell Phone Company] customer service. How can I help you?”

Caller: “You sound different. Where are you from?”

Me: “Canada. Is there something I can help you with?”

Caller: “Canada? How big is the igloo you work in?”

Me: “Sir, we don’t live in igloos. In fact, it’s about 40˚ here at the moment.”

Caller: “40˚ is freezing!”

Me: “40˚ Celsius. That’s 104˚ Fahrenheit.”

Caller: “Oh my god, how do you keep your igloos from melting?!”

(Original post can be found here. Sorry for stealing it, N.A.R. folks but thought it would be a good advert for you! Not that you need one.) (Stop sucking up, Paula!!!)

Oh and THIS . . . is my highlight of the week. I missed it when it happened, but I was told about it and couldn't help but youtube it. Watch the weatherman around about 14 seconds. He gets caught on camera trying to give his colleagues the middle finger and tries to turn it into some sort of chin scratch . . . with hilarious results . . .

How's your Tuesday? You have anything funny for me today?

Monday, 23 August 2010


I was watching episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" last night, and one episode in particular got me thinking. It was an episode about the baggage we all have, and may carry into relationships with us.

I started wondering what MY baggage is.

I have a friend (well, technically she's a friend of a friend, but we all hang out together so I kind of consider her my friend too) who has a tendency to end up with really . . . well, STRANGE guys. Like there was the one who had an electronic tag, a criminal past AND present (hence the electronic tag), belonged to a gang, stole a car (not just off the street, out of a fricking CAR SHOWROOM) and she was telling us about this stuff like it was a good thing. "Oh and he likes to treat me rough," she added, just to make it worse. It was okay, she kinda liked it apparently. Each to their own, I suppose. "You don't get to be our age and meet guys without baggage" she said.

Is she right? Is it possible to reach 30 and NOT have baggage?

I don't think I have anything in the way of potential baggage that manifests itself physically. I don't have kids, a jealous ex in my life, a criminal past, nothing really tying me down. But I DO have a lot of insecurities and trust issues from previous relationships. Is that baggage? Relationships stress me out because of this, so I guess that this IS my baggage.

Or perhaps my selfishness could be considered baggage. I like my life the way it is; I don't want it to change for anyone. I find it hard to let someone in to share my life in the first place. I guess that can make me hard work.

I don't really have a CLUE how to be in a grown-up relationship. I'm not always sure I even WANT to be.

But do you know something? I hope someone can look past my baggage some day and take it on. Cos there's a lot of good stuff to go along with it. :)

Do you believe everyone has baggage of some sort? What's yours?

Sunday, 22 August 2010


So the idea of the Sub Crawl is that you go around every stop on the Glasgow subway (I think 15 stops in total) and have a drink at the nearest pub you can find to each station.

Yesterday, in honour of Mich's 25th birthday, we decided to partake in this insanity.

Approximately half of the stations are in slightly dodgy areas, so we decided to get them out of the way early on. Things I learned: drinks are much cheaper in that side of town and . . . er, that's pretty much it.

Most terrifying moment was when we entered the Stadium Bar in Ibrox and everyone turned to look at us when Michelle asked what we wanted to drink. "It's like they can SMELL the Catholic on me," I hissed to one of the others.

Technically we broke a few rules. For example, I didn't drink alcohol in the first two pubs. We got off at Shields Road and couldn't actually FIND a pub. We skipped West Street station and instead drank three drinks at a pub in St Enoch's Square. We skipped the tube journey from Hillhead to Kelvinhall and just walked to the next pub instead. And then . . . well, we didn't actually leave that pub, despite having another stop left.

I drank rather a lot of vodka. On a virtually empty stomach.


Then I came home and drank two glasses of wine.

I think the only reason I'm not hungover is because I'm potentially still drunk.

And I have to go back to work tomorrow. Miserable face. :(

How were your weekends? Would you like to try the Sub Crawl?

Friday, 20 August 2010


It's 10.40ish pm and I'm lying on my bed in my PJs, drinking rose cava and trying to recover from a journey home from Belfast which started at just before 4pm today and ended at 10pm after two buses, a ferry, a taxi . . . oh and a brief stalking of a cute-ish guy.

It's been a tiring few days, including a 5am wake-up call on Tuesday, thunderstorms at the Giant's Causeway, and boozing from 10am most days.

But I had a bloody awesome time.

Hopefully it'll not be another two years before I get back from Belfast, because I ADORE the place. Perhaps because it reminds me so much of Glasgow? Who knows.

I have consumed my weight in alcohol, and ate a lot of damn delicious food. I have posed in stupid pictures. I have said silly things. I have caught up properly with two of my besties. I have visited a place I've wanted to go since I was a kid - the aforementioned Giant's Causeway.

I absolutely ADORE the ferry to Belfast. Not only was a return far cheaper than a flight (with the dreaded Easyjet), it was so much fun to be able to move around as you pleased and not have to wait for the seatbelt signs to go off to order alcohol and/or food. (But mainly alcohol.) It's a shame about the long bus journey to Stranraer, the time you have to wait around at the terminal no matter what end you are at, or the screaming kids . . . but the couple of hours on the ferry itself is great craic!

As is Belfast itself.

I just wish I could have stayed there longer.

And now . . . my liver doesn't have time to recover because tomorrow . . . I am doing the subcrawl for Mich's birthday. Oh dear . . . (If you don't know what the subcrawl is . . . this blog post on it made me laugh. A lot.)

So . . . What have I missed?

Monday, 16 August 2010


Today, me and my sister decided to go through to Edinburgh.

Remember how after the blogger meet-up in May, I'd decided I liked the 'Burgh after all?

Changed my mind again.

Here are some things you need to know about me. Firstly, I do have a tendency to be extremely thin-skinned at times. Secondly, I'm a bit more vocal on my blog than I am in real life when faced with confrontation. And thirdly, I don't tend to try things on when I am in clothes shops.

The few times I DO try clothes on, I tend to be with my sister. And today, since I was with her, and since I was feeling a bit skint, when I found some dresses I wanted to try on in Top Shop, and she had some clothes SHE wanted to try on, we'd headed for the changing rooms.

I should also point out that, prior to finding these dresses, my sister had already paid for a pair of shoes in the sale in the same shop. She had been served by a girl who was rather sour-faced and let's just say her customer service skills were decidedly lacking. I remember commenting to my sister, who works in retail management, that I was sure she would not have put up with that kind of behaviour in her staff. She had agreed. Worse was to come though.

I had about 100 quid worth of dresses in the cubicle with me. Which probably only equates to three dresses in Top Shop world, but still . . . I would happily have bought them all. Because I loved them all. But I could only afford one. That being said, I was sorely tempted to buy all three.

My sister tried on her clothes and decided they weren't for her, but I was still trying things and I needed her help. On hearing the (nice) girl manning the changing rooms tell someone they were running low on cubicles, she nipped out of hers and came into mine to help me out so the cubicle was free for someone else.

I'm not really sure what the issue was on this. Me and my sister do this all the time in a lot of stores, mainly because neither of us are keen on leaving a cubicle wearing not very much to show each other our outfits in front of others - especially if they aren't particularly flattering. In fact, in the Glasgow branches of Top Shop in particular, we have done this on many occasions, and no one has said anything about it.

In addition, both of us had a tag stating how many items of clothing we had brought in with us. Neither of us were causing trouble. And both of us potentially had money to spend.

But as I decided on the dress I was going to buy and started to put my own clothes on, ANOTHER girl appeared outside my cubicle and started shouting into us to get our attention. She proceeded to then hold a conversation with me, me standing pitifully in my bra and leggings (and bear in mind that I am currently trying to lose weight, so this was not my ideal position to be arguing in), looking me up and down like I was some sort of cockroach (which made me feel even worse) about how it was against the rules for two of us to be in the cubicle together.

The implication being, I guess, that we were either trying to get it on with each other, or trying to shoplift.

I tried to explain that my sister had just came in to help me out and to free up the cubicle she was done with, but the girl continued to be argumentative and had a right attitude on her. My sister, who had just taken a phone call from her hubby at the time and was about to step out of the cubicle prior to the scene, then left the cubicle, loudly telling her husband what was going on, and the girl marched away.

But the whole thing really shook me up,

Like I said, I can be really thin skinned at times, and this is precisely the type of thing that gets to me. People not listening to me, and judging me when they don't have a clue about me.

This girl, who as far as I can tell, was not management, and probably earns less than I do, and CERTAINLY less than my sister, caused an unnecessary scene for no reason other than being, from what I can see, power crazy. In the process, she insulted two people who were patronising the store she works in, and for no other reason than because my sister had been helping me out in my cubicle trying to persuade me to buy a dress.

I was sorely tempted to actually toss the dress in her face, and tell her to shove it, that her behaviour had cost the branch my business . . . but I was actually on the verge of tears and knew I wouldn't be able to do it without crying. Which wouldn't have helped matters. And anyway, when we left the changing room, it was the nice girl who let us out, so it wouldn't have had the desired impact anyway.

I bought the dress anyway, and I love it. But the whole experience has left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I have worked in retail and customer service, and I wouldn't ever have DREAMED of treating a customer the way she did. Sometimes I wonder how certain people manage to get a job in the first place. She was certainly one of those people and I am already composing a letter of complaint in my head to the company. In fact, so incensed was I, that had I noticed anyone in management in the shop today, I would have probably complained in person. And THAT is a pretty big deal for me!

Something I learned at university was that if someone has a positive experience in a shop or business, they will tell perhaps one or two people. If they have a negative experience, they will tell far more people than that.

Top Shop in Edinburgh . . . consider this me telling a lot of people about my negative experience.

PS I won't be back. Trust me on that.

So I ask you all: Have you ever experienced bad customer service? What happened?


So it's now been two weeks since the drunken wedding taxi incident. And I STILL don't remember what the heck happened.

I was hoping it might come back to me, but it hasn't. And at this stage, I really CAN'T ask him what actually happened. Unless we both end up somewhere drunk at the same time again. Which I suppose IS possible but it's probably not likely to happen anytime soon.

But it's really bothering me that I can't remember. Purely because I HATE alcohol related memory loss.

I can ACCEPT it a lot of the time. Like on Friday night, when I don't really remember getting back to my friend's flat, but was informed by my friends that I was dancing with walls. I HAVE done that on occasion in the past so I assumed I had been dancing with walls INDOORS. Turned out it was on the street. Hmmm. (PS If you're my friend on Facebook, you can see the drunken video of me and my friend trying to sing - and failing - on Friday night that I mentioned yesterday. Just sayin'.)

But when it comes to matters with a guy, you kinda want to know one way or the other whether something happened. Some may say ignorance is bliss, but I do not fall into that category. I need to KNOW what I should or should not be embarrassed about.

However, the situation reminded me of a similar drunk situation from about eight years ago. I was out with a group of people from one of my old jobs. One of the people out was my first proper boyfriend. Well, he had recently became an ex - the only guy I've ever dumped. (I've suffered bad karma ever since in my relationships.) Anyway, he'd been really annoying me since the break-up, calling my house all the time (my parents wouldn't lie and say I wasn't in, so I kept getting stuck having to talk to him. And I HATE talking on the phone at the best of times.) And, in what wasn't my proudest moment, I decided I was going to snog another guy who was there that night. A guy who was about four years younger than me. (Yes, I was being all cougar-y again, before I even knew what that meant.)

So I started being flirty and squeezing this dude's arse and stuff like that. (I'd been drinking shots of Goldschlagger. I had no shame that night.) And then I'd led him downstairs to where the toilets were. And outside the Gents, I had made my move.

But to this day, I don't know whether we kissed or not. I think he claimed we did, but all I remember was him telling me I was a lovely girl but he was seeing someone. That being said, he HAD responded to my flirting and came down the stairs with me (when neither of us intended on going to the toilet) which said something DID happen. And I KNOW that my ex was raging and going about my old work threatening to punch the guy. (Which was a little unfair considering that 1)I had instigated the whole thing and 2) I don't think the two of them were friends anyway.

But yeah, I don't know what happened there. (Apart from my ex announcing that he loved me. Oh, and in case you think I am some massive bitch, my ex actually snogged my friend that night - and they ended up going out for several years. So it all worked out in the end. Sort of.)

So I think that the drunken episode from the end of July is probably going to be of a similar vein. I'll probably never remember. And that's REALLY going to bother me. Because I'm me and this sort of stuff bothers me. (What can I say? I'm a weirdo. You knew that.)

Damn it, why didn't I pretend I knew what he was talking about when he emailed me??? I might have been able to trick him into telling me what actually happened.

Now I'll probably never know. Haha.

Saturday, 14 August 2010


So last night, me and two of my old flatmates made a trip east to see another former flatmate who had moved to Dunfermline a couple of months ago.

First of all . . . ROADTRIP!!! I was a bit worried as the last time the three of us had been in a car together on a long-ish journey was to go to Edinburgh to see F's play at the Fringe last year. And we'd got lost. So trying to find our way to Dunfermline was bound to be er . . . interesting.

But we got there in one piece and immediately started drinking. In fact, between the wine and the Chinese takeaway we got delivered, we didn't actually make it OUT of the flat until after ten pm. There's an interesting video of me and B trying to sing "New York, New York" in the flat . . . and realising quite quickly we didn't actually know most of the words. That, coupled with the fact that B didn't realise it was a video and was posing for a picture most of the time, made it extra hilarious.

Especially since I don't remember it at all.

Yup, it was another one of THOSE nights.

I DO remember going to a posh(ish) cocktail bar, followed by a pub called The Creepy Wee Pub. We thought that's what B and her flatmate were referring to it as that because it was creepy. But that was its actual name.

And then I don't remember much else. Apart from waking up on B's couch with a quilt over me,

Hmmm. Recurring theme. Passing out in a strange place on a Friday night.

It's becoming a habit.

On the upside, I DO know that I definitely didn't kiss anyone. Which makes a change.

Recovery time now.

Anyone else have an eventful Friday night, or pass out in a strange place? In fact, where IS the strangest place you've passed out after alcohol?

Friday, 13 August 2010


I was walking home today behind a rather rotund lady holding a takeaway pizza box. (Mmmmm - pizza.)

She was holding me up because she was walking so slow. That's why I noticed. (Also because it was pizza. Mmmm.)

I managed to finally pass her because she decided to go into a shop.

A fruit and veg shop.

Does that seem weird to anyone else?

It's like ordering a mountain of fried food in a cafe . . . and then ordering a diet coke.

The only weirder place I can imagine her taking her pizza box was into a Weight Watchers meeting.

(Which would just be plain NASTY!)

Unless she wanted extra veg toppings for her pizza, I guess . . .

Anyone else find this odd?

EDIT: I was not saying she was not allowed a pizza because she was overweight. I deny NO ONE pizza. The point I was making was that I found it strange that of all the places to go with a takeaway pizza box in hand, she chose a fruit and veg shop. It was merely an observation. If anything, I was jealous that she had a pizza and I didn't. Bitch. :)

Thursday, 12 August 2010


Point out to me someone who is an obvious music snob, and you're showing me someone I kinda want to punch in the face.

I HATE people who judge me for my taste in music.

I like to say my taste in music is eclectic, but then most people who describe their taste in music in that sense then rhyme off music from every area of the music genre spectrum, from Mozart to Hardcore House (whatever the fuck THAT is - there is a chance I may have made it up though), without any artists I've even HEARD of in between. And I think "Um . . . maybe I don't REALLY have particularly eclectic taste after all."

MY so-called eclectic taste can be summed up fairly succinctly: most R&B, less hardcore hiphop, a lot of chart stuff, angsty shouty female singers, songs that featured in "Guitar Hero" . . . er . . . that's pretty much it.

I don't like people who judge me when they start talking about some music artist I've never heard of and I ask who it is, or what they sing. Am I meant to know ALL the music?????

And am I meant to LIKE it just because THEY think it's cool? Or because they look down on me for liking "Airplanes" by B.o.B or the latest Beyonce tune, am I meant to stop listening to the music I personally like? (Personally I think the fact that I ADMIT I like a Beyonce song despite not being able to stand HER most of the time is testament to the strength of my character. No???)

I'm proud to like the music I like. Most of the time anyway.

There's certain things I'm not COMPLETELY proud of.

Like, for example, I . . . (Oh my god, can't believe I'm admitting this, please don't hate me!) . . . I actually like some Nickelback tunes. I may find Chad Kroeger one of the most physically repellent forms of human, but I actually like his voice. I am convinced that if the hot guy in the band (well, he's hotter than the others anyway - I couldn't tell you what instrument he played though) had Chad's voice and was the singer, then Nickelback wouldn't be QUITE as derided as they are. Okay, so they ARE middle of the road . . . BUT EVERYONE HAS TO CROSS THE ROAD SOMETIMES.

I don't like The Beatles. Although sometimes other bands have covered their music and I've not minded their version QUITE as much. By the way, I won't judge you if you like The Beatles. But I WILL judge you if you judge me for not liking them. If that made sense... ;)

In the last year, I have watched such massive stars as Rihanna and Alicia Keys rock the SECC (Scottish Exhibition & Conference Centre, for those not in the know.) But my favourite gig there will always be my first - Linkin Park in 2003. (Yes, I didn't go to a gig until I was 23. I am THAT sad...)

(My favourite ever Linkin Park song, btw.)

Despite myself, I have started to love Paramore. Eek. This was not part of my plan. I did not WANT to become an emo. And I WON'T become one. (I PROMISE, Mich!) But I have downloaded quite a few of their songs to my MP3 player and listen to them rather a lot.

(My God, is the woman in this video a bitch. Although I find it amusing that after all the horrible things she did - I was most appalled by her cutting off that other woman's hair plait - she fell apart without her "chicken fillets" and make-up. Hmmm.)

I myself will only judge you if you buy Westlife singles or go to see them. Or scream when they appear on telly. In fact, if you scream when they appear on telly (and aren't 12), I'll be tempted to slap you. If you ARE 12, on the other hand . . . . WESTLIFE ARE IN THEIR THIRTIES!!!! OLD MAN COMPLEX OR WHAT???)

Care to share a music-related confession? Someone you like that you feel you shouldn't? Someone you DON'T Like that you're made to feel like you should? I'm listening . . .

Wednesday, 11 August 2010


Petty little things currently irritating me include:

***the fact my eyes water pretty much every day on the way to work, in a way that only seems to upset my eyeliner on my upper eyelid. In such a way that means that the flick extending past my eyelid is still there, the bit on my eyelid is still there . . . but the bit at the corner of my eye BEFORE the flick somehow vanishes. EVERY TIME. Frustrating AND it makes me look like I don't know how to do my eye make up properly. Hmmm. Maybe I don't....

***speaking of eyes, not being able to rub them in case of losing a contact INSIDE MY EYE. I had one missing for ten minutes the other day. I had eventually decided it couldn't actually be in there after all and must have fallen out, when it suddenly just reappeared. All I can conclude is that it decided to take a detour to visit my brain to work up how I ended up such a fuck-up! Because it sure as hell wasn't in my EYE all that time!

***spending hours of the past five days trying to ensure I had removed everything that had potentially got caught under my old bed in the past few years before my landlord swapped it for me today. Only to get home tonight to discover a little pile of stuff I'd missed. Including an empty condom wrapper. And a teenage romance novel. Cringe. (Not sure which of those was more embarrassing.)

***being slagged off in work for my desk being messy. Newsflash - I have a lot of work to do. I also am a messy person. If you want me to GET my work done, don't keep going on about me about my desk!!!! Especially when you're at my level professionally and not above me.

***Other people's stuff encroaching on my already crowded desk space. I NEED ROOM, GODDAMIT!!!

***Not being able to make up my mind. I have decidophobia at the best of times. Don't ask me if where I want to go for dinner, or what pub I want to go to, or when I want to meet . . . my brain can't cope with it. Heck, I can't even decide if I actually LIKE that guy from the other week, or whether I just need a distraction to keep my mind busy. What can I say, I'm a confused sorta person!!!

On the upside, I have a nice new bed, two days left of work, my Belfast trip next week . . . and a bottle of sparkling rose that I'm about to tip down my throat. So life isn't ALL bad. ;)

What's annoying you right now?

Friday, 6 August 2010


I've had some weird dreams in my time but the one I had on Wednesday night featured a cameo from Britney herself, and involved me getting into trouble with work AND not getting to eat delicious food.

All because Britney was a total bitch.

Basically I was on a work night out and it had been decided we were going to go to a posh new Italian restaurant in town. Not a real restaurant, mind, it was dreamed up (literally!) by yours truly. We had ordered food that sounded mouth-wateringly delicious (in fact, I woke up drooling - attractive image, right?) and were waiting for it to arrive, when Britney walked in.

No, I have no idea what she was doing in Glasgow either. Maybe she was on tour?

Anyway, one of my colleagues (who I don't know that well, but in my dream she was apparently one of my bezzies) decided it would be a fabulous idea to order a cocktail to be sent over to her table. Not just ANY cocktail - a cocktail in a pink wellington boot!

First of all, this was obviously the brainchild of my subconscious, not my colleague, but isn't it a strange one??? Serving cocktails in wellington boots? Apparently that is what this restaurant did. Wellington boots, stilettos . . . and so on.

(I really hope I don't have a latent foot fetish. Feet - EW!!!!)

Anyhoo, Ms Spears then proceeded to throw a total hissy fit about the whole thing. I have absolutely no idea why - I guess it might be the idea of having to drink out of a shoe, or maybe we chose the wrong cocktail for her. She started screaming like a banshee and throwing dishes about, and all the other customers and the waiters ran out of the restaurant in horror and the people from my work were all left just looking at each other, realising we weren't going to get any food, and wondering what the hell had happened.

We got into trouble for being involved in the whole incident, and I ended up back in my room at home eating crackers for dinner instead of the delicious Italian food.

The moral of the story: make sure you never buy Britney Spears a cocktail in a pink wellington boot in your dream. It's just not worth it . .

(Note to Britney: I'm sure you're not really like that in real life. Can we be friends please?)

Have you ever had a weird dream featuring a celebrity?

Wednesday, 4 August 2010


So I'm typing away on my creaky old laptop (it's only four years old, technically, but, like dog years, that makes it about 28 really) since I'm awaiting a new netbook charger, and I'm fairly devoid of inspiration tonight. But I feel like I SHOULD post something because

1) I'm a bit at a loss for anything else to do. Apart from listening to Diana Vicker's album, I've done pretty much nothing else all night.


2) I'll be busy the next few nights so may not have a chance to blog (or it may be drunken babbling that makes no sense.)

ANYHOO . . .

It's been a while since I did a "crazy search terms that lead people to my blog" post. Sadly, this is because mainly my seach terms fall under the "how do I name my blog?" umbrella. (Trust me, folks, I don't know. Look what MINE is called, for Pete's sake!) But occasionally I get some leaning more toward the "wtf?" line.

So let's see if me or my blog bears any relevance to any of THESE search terms . . .

"Fucking my sleeping sister" (Nope. Never done this. And I'm a little disturbed by that one. Scratch that - I'm majorly grossed out!)

"Eat lunch topless" (Only when I'm in my flat alone. And even THEN, I'm more likely to have a top on...)

"You're only as young as you feel, so go feel on someone young" (Okay, you got me on that one. It HAS happened before. You know it. I know it. Let's call a spade a spade here...)

"Are insects a problem in Fuerteventura?" (Yes. Trust me. The only place I collected more mosquito bites was Zante. Speaking of which . . .)

"Naked dancing in Zante" (Nope. I didn't do that. Promise.)

"Lost virginity at Pontins" (Given that I stopped going to Pontins in my teens, and didn't lose my virginity until I was 24, that's CERTAINLY not true!)

"Pee fetish gross" (Agreed. Not that I've ever tried it. Yuck.)

"What is in my beer, I'm hallucinating" (This sounds like something a former flatmate of mine would have said. But she certainly didn't say it on my blog!)

"Why am I not crying after getting dumped" (Well, personally I ALWAYS cry. Not just about getting dumped though. About ANYTHING. Ask pretty much anyone close to me, they'll tell you!)

"Sniffling snot" (My goodness, you mention snot ONCE in a two-and-a-half-year period and look what happens . . .)

"You still look like young 20". (Why, thank you. *blushes*)

And on that note, and feeling ten years younger, I bid you adieu. :)

Had any strange search engine terms lead someone to your blog recently???

Tuesday, 3 August 2010


Dear phone,

I love you, I really do. The past few weeks I've spent with you . . . they've been great, they really have. I've enjoyed the silly apps I can download, I can spend hours playing pointless games, I LOVE the wi-fi access, and it's the first time my phone has had a half decent camera on it. So I thank you for all those things. A million times over. Sincerely.

But there's something I need to talk to you about.

You have GOT to stop putting words in my mouth.

At first it was just silly little mistakes. The type of thing that used to happen back when I had a BlackBerry and everytime I typed the word "Like" it would change it to "Luke" via predictive text, despite the fact I KNEW NO-ONE CALLED LUKE!!! Stuff like that. So I would type "if" and you would change it to "of". Which is a bit annoying. I know SOMETIMES you think you know better than me, like if I've typed "fanny" when I actually meant "funny" or something like that (I don't think I've done that, it's just an example.) But you have to give me the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

Because it's making me look stupid now. And that's just embarrassing. I should be USED to you by now. People are going to think I don't understand how to use a phone!!! In this day and age, that's like not knowing how to use a PHOTOCOPIER. (Um . . . bad example . . .)

What about the time I was trying to wish a fellow blogger well done on her diet via email and you changed my "congrats hon!" to "contracts hon!"???? (Like THAT is going to make sense...)

The day I was talking on twitter about how I'd just spent 84 pounds in Miss Selfridge and you changed it to "Miss Fridge".

There IS NO "MISS FRIDGE", dumbass!!!

A fellow twitterer/tweeter/whatever you call it sent me, via text, a photo of a guy she was going on a date with soon. My response was meant to be "Oooh, very nice!"

What did YOU change it to??? Don't pretend you don't remember!!!

Oh, yeah, that's right. "Pooh, very nice!"

There could potentially be A LOT wrong with that sentence . . .

And don't even get me STARTED on my Facebook status update about finding the latest emo hangout which you, in your infinite wisdom changed to "emo handout". Yes, that's right, I was walking down the street and discovered a handout on "how to be an emo". I'm trying it out right now, can't you see???

I do love you, phone, but please PLEASE stop over-correcting me. My pride just can't take it anymore.


P xxx

Have you ever sent an embarrassing text/email/tweet that was your phone's fault, not yours??? Please feel free to shake... I mean, SHARE!!! (Stupid netbook!) :)

Sunday, 1 August 2010


This weekend I went to a wedding. Well, technically the bride and groom were hitched last week so it was just the reception part, but I don't really know what else to call it. So I was calling it a "wedding shindig".

Here's what I took from the weekend in general:

***Not only do I have no sense of direction, I also have no observation or navigational skills when it comes to trying to direct someone to a place they've never been before. Even when I have the instructions written down in front of me!!!

***I apparently have stress issues when it comes to big events such as weddings. I changed my mind back and forth about twenty times about whether to go or not. Even yesterday I changed my mind several times.

***I'm glad I went though.I actually had a FABULOUS time, ended up staying really late and then ended up at a party back at the bride and groom's flat.

***Which is weird because I honestly was only planning to stay for three hours and then go home and get drunk alone.

***Speaking of going home, I have absolutely no idea when I got home! I'm just amazed I didn't lose any of my belongings.

***Mixing your drinks is okay as long as its all the different colours of wine. Rose, white and even RED was consumed by drunken little moi last night.

***Occasionally I CAN show some self-restraint and manage to be nice to people I know dislike me while under the influence.

***EVEN with a person who blatantly refused my friend request on Facebook (it was a legit request as well) and then try to act all nicey-nice to my face.

***However, I am fairly sure I had a go at the colleague who didn't invite me for after-work drinks on Friday night. I don't think I was horrible about it. But I think I went on about it a bit and told him never to leave me out again. Oops.

***I am naturally a "hugger" but I don't like the whole cheek-kissing thing. It makes me nervous. I worry I might offend because I let myself be kissed but make no effort to return the favour.

***I find cheek-kissing especially awkward with colleagues and/or former colleagues who reject my Facebook friend requests. Just sayin'.

***I vaguely remember telling a female colleague that I'm jealous of her surname. What the fuck???

***Apparently I have a rather fetching dress in my wardrobe that I forgot I even owned (my new phone has a timer on the camera. I am rather enamored of this. It's like Cher in Clueless taking polaroids of her outfits because she doesn't rely on mirrors . . . )

***Unfortunately I decided it was maybe a tad too dressy. Luckily I have my old trusty Mango dress (from a Mango store in Fuerteventura. Weirdly, I rarely see anything I like in Mango at home, but when I go to branches in the Canary Islands, I always find loads of gems) that I like to brush off and put on for certain special occasions. Thank God for that.

***I do kinda wish I had gone for my original choice though. I hope I have another occasion to wear it to soon.

***I don't think I fell over last night. Although my heels sunk into the grass when I went outside the marquee to queue for my pig.

***Yes. We ate spit-roasted pig. And a very tasty pig it was.

***A guy I've known for a few years now kept stroking my leg last night. Then apologising. Then doing it again. I'm not sure whether he was trying to hit on me, or it was some sort of reflex reaction.

***Possibly both?

***A veg-o-roma pizza from Dominos makes a great cure for a mild hangover, as does a can of Fanta. Yum.

All in all, it's been an interesting weekend I think. How's yours been???