Monday, 29 August 2011


It's no secret that I do have a tendency to complicate things within my life rather than make things easier. I don't know if I have something inside me that compels me to do this, or whether it's just some sort of fate. Maybe I secretly want to create drama for myself. Maybe it makes me feel like my life is more interesting.

Obviously, right now, I'm sitting on my own with a can of Diet Irn Bru and my netbook on my lap, thinking about how I should REALLY go to bed and get a decent night's sleep after last night's extreme insomnia bout, and how I really should pack my bag for swimming with my sister after work . . . which isn't obviously particularly interesting at all . . . yet I've just typed an entire paragraph about it, because that's how I roll and it's honest and I can actually BE honest about that, rather than cryptic about the actual complications that have cropped up in my life and I have actually CREATED - possibly due to feeling rejected by one person, and imbibing slightly too much rose wine a few nights ago.

And this particular complication - I thought it could be problematic on a short-term basis, but actually . . . there were a couple of events today that made me wonder if it could actually spiral out of control a bit and REALLY tangle my life up. Hmmmm.

I'm going to try not to let it, and it MIGHT not actually get to that point anyway depending on how I tackle it, and whether there's actually anything to have to worry about. But I guess I'll have to just wait and see. And possibly, in the meantime, work out ways to make my life SIMPLER rather than more DIFFICULT than it already is.

But I guess, much as I bemoan it all, at least it gives me new thoughts to take my mind off the old - at least for now - and that can only be a good thing I suppose . . .

What about you? Do you try to lead a simple life and feel it often spirals out of control? Do you believe we're in charge of how complicated our life is?

3AM ...

It's 3 am and I cannot for the life of me fall asleep.

A combination of money stress, work stress, STRESS stress and random aches and pains are keeping me from sleep.

I have resorted to Facebook stalking all my friends to try and stave off the boredom created by insomnia but I'm starting to even run out of names to try!

What do YOU do when you can't get to sleep???

Monday, 22 August 2011


Tonight I cheered myself up by having mince and tatties for dinner.... nice stodgy solid Scottish comfort food.

I would post a pic of it but it tasted a lot better than it looked, put it that way!

What's YOUR favourite meal when you need comfort food???

Sunday, 21 August 2011


I went to one of my old flatmate's birthday nights out last night.

Funnily enough, I only read the message she'd sent about it a week ago yesterday morning, when it had turned from being a girly night out into a "there'll be dudes there too" night out. And I said to another former flatmate, "I'm a bit worried that this guy might be there - but I'm not even going to ask her because I don't see why he would be."

The nutshell - I met this guy at a Hallowe'en/housewarming party that my friend threw nearly two years ago. We went on one date, arranged a second, and on the day of the second date he text to say he was getting back with his ex. I never responded to the text. I heard later from my friend that him getting back with the ex had came as a shock to EVERYONE, not just me. But I'd got the impression that since he got back with the ex he'd sort of lost contact with the guys again. I had no reason to think he would turn up at my friend's birthday.

I mean, why would he??? He must have known that I, as one of her best friends, would be there,

But I turned up, and there he bloody well was.

It's not like I cared really. I mean, I thought he was hot at the time, but we'd went on one date and then he had fucked me over. I just hadn't expected to see him ever again. And I just was PO'd that he turned up tonight like nothing had ever happened and then didn't even acknowledge me. No guilty conscience or anything??? WTF?

So it was almost inevitable. As we were leaving I went up to him. Don't really remember what I said to him, think I was just basically like "Hi, remember me? Yeah, I forgive you by the way." and possibly also gave him a hug. Eek.

It was basically like this, in terms of cringeworthy moments:

Except that I did it TO the guy I was going out with, not his friends! Eek again.

It just would have been FAR nicer to do it when I was still in a relationship, and not a sad singleton once again!


Thursday, 18 August 2011


  • SPLASH ME - seriously. I love it. ESPECIALLY when you manage to splash me while doing BREAST-STROKE (the actual stroke. Not stroking my breast. If only....) Seriously. How is that even possible? You're not even putting your head under the water. WTF???

  • UNDER/OVER-ESTIMATE YOUR OWN SPEED - If you're in the medium lane and complaining because people are too slow (we heard you!) maybe you need to go in the fast lane??? WORRIED you might get shown up??? Twat.

  • COME SWIMMING WITH A FRIEND WHO GOES IN A FASTER LANE THAN YOU BUT INSIST ON TALKING TO EACH OTHER - It doesn't work that way. Swimming isn't REALLY a social sport. If you wanna talk, go hang in the jacuzzi/steam room/sauna/pub. Don't make the rest of us feel like we're interrupting your conversation by SWIMMING IN A STRAIGHT LINE!!!!

  • HAVE NO APPARENT NOTION OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CLOCKWISE AND ANTI-CLOCKWISE AND TAKE UP THE WHOLE LANE WHILE SWIMMING - where are the rest of us meant to swim if you have us pinned against the wall everytime you swim past, eh?

  • BE A SMALL CHILD WHO THINKS IT'S OKAY TO GET INTO THE SLOW LANE WITH A FRIEND AND YET CAN'T SWIM PROPERLY - swimming side by side and not being able to actually MANAGE a full length of the pool will make me want to KILL you. Just sayin'.

ALL of these things happened to me when I went swimming yesterday. I'm not sure if I ever want to go swimming again now - I have now developed extreme pool rage!

Any more to add?

Tuesday, 16 August 2011


I don't feel any better. But hey-ho, life goes on. I'm not the first one to be hurt, and I won't be the last.

This link was sent to me the other day. If it doesn't make you smile . . . then you're dead inside.

That's all.


I just knew today was going to be a messed-up day emotionally. I woke at six am and lay there for two and a half hours with my eyes wide open, unable to drag myself out of bed. Even when it got to half past eight, the last point I could get up . . . I had to actually peel myself off the mattress.

And, predictably, I was proved right.

It was a shit day.

Nothing happened in the grand scheme of things to make it worse. It's just my head that's screwed up. My emotions that made me go the the loos for a cry rather than for anything south of the border. My brain that can't stop overthinking anything.

The last time I felt this low was about three and a half years ago.

And now I'm back to feeling, once again, like there's no point in letting someone in . . . because you only end up hurt. And feeling like this . . . it sucks.

I know that tomorrow I might feel a bit more positive. I probably will. But every time I think I'm feeling better, there's a little thought that worms its way inside and makes me feel like shit all over again. The regularity is lessening over time . . . but it still happens, and I still have days like today where I genuinely just never want to leave my flat again, never want to talk to anyone else ever again, and just hide from the fear of letting myself get hurt again.

And now I've vented, I feel a little bit better.

Maybe I'll even make it back for ACTUAL Cheer-Me-Up Tuesday in an hour or two. We'll see . . .

Thursday, 11 August 2011


I'm having a bad week emotionally and mentally - I'm a nervous wreck and utterly miserable most of the time. Various things are getting to me - work stress, the whole being-dumped-and-will-I-ever-be-able-to-keep-a-guy-interested-for-longer-than-five-minutes? thing are obvious ones, but there's a couple of other things going on that I don't think I should talk about on here that are upsetting me too. Most of the time I'm able to put a brave face on it but today was not one of those days.

But let's leave that there. At least for now. Because I'll just depress myself further if I dwell on this stuff. Let's talk about pole dancing class number two, which was last night!!!

To be honest, it wasn't much better than week one in terms of me being able to do any of the moves. Eek. One of the reasons was probably because *whispers guiltily* I hadn't practiced the floorwork at all. I was too sore after last week's class, then just too busy. And, in addition, the instructor hadn't actually emailed us the floorwork routine until yesterday morning. (Let's pretend I didn't actually remember the simple combination of situps, pressups and squats, okay???) So my core and arm strength was not going to have improved any, since the only other exercise I had had was trying to walk in high heels on Saturday night and not fall over, and lifting large glasses of champagne to my lips. (That one would OBVIOUSLY only work out ONE of my arms . . .)

To add insult to injury, I wasn't in the overflow room this time, but in the room with the girls who'd been doing it for several years. I felt like the troublemaker in the remedial class who'd been made to sit in the clever class as punishment (that never happened to me at school, by the way, but that's how it felt.) As I struggled to simply jump up and wrap my legs around the pole, these girls were on another level. After each unsuccessful go at one of the four moves I am so far failing dismally to master (despite the encouraging comments the instructor gives me), I would turn around to see one of them so far up the pole she was practically at the ceiling, just casually "hanging out" there like it was no big deal. Or, as I wiped my pole with the towel to get rid of the sweat my hands had left, I would see one of the other girls halfway up the pole and hanging upside down by just her legs. Like one does . . .

To be honest, I felt there was a TINY bit of improvement. Like now I know HOW to do the moves, I just need to be able to DO them. There was one point where I managed to wrap my legs around the pole on the jump and the instructor grabbed them and held them up and said "now slide down the pole!" but I was stuck!!! She also keeps saying to me about the moves where you whirl around the pole "you're there, all you need to do is lift your other foot!" Yes, but that's the bit I JUST CAN'T DO!!!

I know, I know, there's no such thing as "can't" and all that crap, but right now it feels like I'll never get there. The other girls say they were like that too at first, and have been doing it for a couple of years, but what if it takes me a couple of years to even master the basic stuff??? I'll feel like such a loser!

Anyway, this is the kind of stuff I would LOVE to be able to do one day:

In reality, right now, I can't even do the first move in this video:

I tell you something, these people make it look far FAR easier than it actually is!!!

Wish me luck! (God knows I need it . . .)

Wednesday, 10 August 2011


So, after my second pole dancing class (more on that at a later date), I went out for dinner. I ended up out later than planned and more sober than planned, so I was fairly eager to get home asap to drink my bottle of wine purchased in good old Marks 'n' Sparks.

Which of course meant my broke self thought it would be a good idea to get a taxi. Now, I don't always have the best of luck with taxis (see this post to prove my point) but despite the terrible rain and the trains all being cancelled, there wasn't much of a queue, so I got a taxi fairly quickly. It turned on Gordon Street to head towards the west end... and as it paused to let another car go by, a woman opened the other door and just climbed in!!!

At first I was just kind of stunned. "Hello friend" she intoned to me, and I just looked at her, in shock. Until the taxi driver started telling her to get out. She refused to move, and kept smiling at me beatifically. He opened the door and told her to get out.

"She's my friend" she told him, pointing at me. "We are friends. Drive please."

He tried to remove her from the taxi. She wouldn't go. "If you won't go, I'll get that copper over there to come and get you out," he threatened.

I think that's when something snapped in me. I'm always the pushover, always the one trying to keep the peace. Like I said, I wasn't even drunk. But I knew this woman was trying to take advantage of me and for once, I wasn't going to let her.

So this is what came out of me:

"I will fucking PUSH you out of this taxi if you don't move!"

She looks at me, all wounded but calm. "We go to your house?"

Me. "No we fucking DON'T. Get out of this taxi right now or I will THROW you out of it!"

Wide-eyed hurt look at me from her. I swear to god this woman could MAJOR in Conveying-Expression-With-Your-Eyes-101.

Me: "I don't know why you're fucking looking at me like that. I don't even know you. Get the FUCK out. NOW!"

Yes, I had transformed into some little Glasgow hairy who has more swear words in her vocabulary than anything else but do you know what? I was proud that for once I had stood up for myself. Maybe it's all the shit that's gone on in my life the past few months. Maybe it's all the needless rioting elsewhere that's got to me. But I was sick of letting people think they could just walk all over me in that moment.

The taxi driver forcibly removed her from the taxi. Two seconds later, she pulled the same trick with another taxi. My driver told the other driver to chuck her out, but apparently she wouldn't be moved. I doubt she paid, wherever she ended up.

Wonder how I would have reacted to it if I had actually been drunk??? Very weird though. Sometimes I feel like these things only happen to me!

Weird taxi experiences, anyone?

Tuesday, 9 August 2011


Now, as we all know, there are many things that irritate me. People who spit. People who stop randomly in the middle of the street so you bump into them. Snow. Hangovers. You get the drift.

Today Twitter was annoying me.

Well, to be honest, it's been annoying me for a while, ever since that bloody big debate a few weeks back over whether or not the massacre in Norway or the death of Amy Winehouse was more important. People judging other people for mourning Amy's passing when so many people had also died needlessly elsewhere. Some Amy fans insisting that actually Amy's death WAS more important. The whole issue becoming something you didn't particularly want to comment on either way in case a Twitter-lynch-mob came after you.

Today's issue was the rioting in London.

No, that's not true. It wasn't the riot talk. Twitter is obviously an important form of communication these days, particularly when it comes to news, and the information coming in from different sources regarding the rioting was as fascinating as it was scary. This is information we would have only gotten from the news on the TV ten or so years ago. Now you have normal people on the scene and roundabout spreading the word via the internet.

So, no, it wasn't the riot talk. It was more the fact that some people seemed to think that the rioting was all we were allowed to talk about today. Apparently, in their view, any other subject was off-limits. I know one fellow blogger who someone had a go at for tweeting something unrelated to the riot. The blogger in question, as she later stated on Twitter in her defence, had a relative in the vicinity of the rioting, so she wasn't trying to belittle any of the tragedy and terror going down in London.

When I heard about this, I instantly felt guilty myself. Like "oh shit, I posted a tweet about how my second attempt at pole dancing is not going to go well, are people judging me?"

And then I thought . . . I don't have anything to contribute to the rioting talk, that's why I'm not posting about it. I'm not in the vicinity, I'm not a witness, I only had the chance to watch the news for ten minutes or so this morning. Anything I DO have to say about the riots is something that would be way too long to put in a tweet. I discussed it with people in my work instead. I could write about it now, but once again, I'm not very knowledgable on the whole thing. It disturbs me so much that so many kids are involved in the mindless looting and violence and don't seem to even care how bad it is. It disturbs me that it seems to be some sort of mob mentality - that people don't even know why they're even doing it anymore, they're just doing it because everyone else is. It disturbs me that people all over the UK are trying to follow in the footsteps of London and destroy their own towns and cities. Most of all, it strikes me as horrific that, when so many people outside the UK hate us, we are now turning against our own country.

Okay, clearly I had more to say on it than I thought. But I feel more able to communicate it here, in a diatribe of the length i choose, than I would have been able to word it on Twitter.

Anyway, my point is that just because the majority of people I was following were discussing the rioting, that did not mean that people couldn't discuss other things if they so chose to do. Obviously in the Uk we are all affected by this to some extent, some more than others of course. But outside of the UK, perhaps other people may want to give it a passing mention, or pretend it's not happening. Or, maybe as a whole, people might want to try and cheer each other up with a joke or a funny anecdote.

It just seems so easy for people to jump down other people's throats on Twitter, to take something they said and twist it, or just to comment nastily because they don't agree on someone's opinion. Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and free speech is a must, I do realise that. But here's my ten pence worth on the aforementioned altercation with the fellow blogger and the person who judged her for not making her twitter stream exclusively about the rioting . . .

Considering we are all sitting here, looking at the devastation caused by mindless hate and pointless vandalism and violence, should we really be provoking fights with one another? Shouldn't this whole thing be uniting us, not driving us apart?

People should be able to post what they want on twitter. Now, don't get me wrong here, if they post something despicable and get abuse for it, then fair enough, they're pretty much fair game. But no one else should think they have a right to TELL us what we can post. That's why Twitter is addictive as it is, because we're all using it for our own reasons, and we're all posting, as individuals, exactly what we wish to post.

Isn't that the beauty of it?

What do you think?

Monday, 8 August 2011


I'm just home. Several million glasses of wine down (ok, five, you happy?) and now on the vodka cos that's all I have in my flat. And I'm thinking. Too much.

What is love anyway?

There is a lot to prompt me here. For first thing, I have just booked tickets for me and Mich to go and see Richard Herring's stand-up show "What is love anyway?" This has prompted me to sing the Howard Jones tune of the same title inside my head, over and over, for days.

One of the most prominent (in my head, anyway!) reasons for my recent dumping was that he wasn't in love with me. Okay, you know, at least it was honest. In the past, I have got the whole "it's not you it's me, I just want to be on my own" shebang only to be followed by a new girlfriend or account immediately. Actually, in retrospect, that didn't hurt as much as the honest truth. Knowing the truth from the outset . . . well, it pretty much sucked.

But here's the thing with me.

I've never been in love.


Even with him.

But I don't believe that love exists straight up and straight away. That's a fantasy we don't usually get to live out ourselves.

I'm a firm believer in the motto of the film "The Sweetest Thing" . . . Don't look for Mr Right. Look for Mr Right Now. I want to meet a guy I'm compatible with. A guy who I fancy. Who gets my sense of humour. Who I have fun with.

I don't believe love is something that is instantaneous. Or even something that has a timeline.

I believe in having fun with a person and seeing how things go. I think other people put too much pressure on relationships. I don't believe that is the case myself. If you like a person, and fancy a person, and have been with them for not a particularly long time... then why put extra pressure on it? Why overthink it? Just enjoy it for what it is.

With him, I had (what I thought was) the best relationship I ever had. I really did. A guy who wanted to see me. Who liked me. Who told me so. Okay, it didn't work out the way I planned. It took a bad turn seemingly overnight, and will never be resolved. I know that. But those four/five months... they were great. I don't want to take them back. It hurts now but... at the time.... it was amazing.

I just think that sometimes people have to realise that the whole idea of love . . . it isn't instantaneous, it has to be worked at and it doesn't just come just because you want it to (so many jokes in that last phrase.)

And I hope that someone realises that about me some day.

What's your thoughts/experience on love?

Sunday, 7 August 2011


  • It IS actually possible to have a classy hen do. Especially when it involves getting dressed up in party frocks and starting off with high tea and champagne at a posh hotel.

  • If you start off drinking champagne, it can be quite difficult to "downgrade" to normal wine later on. (Well, I found it difficult anyway!)
  • Apparently it's only old men who like to chat me up. Old men who have a wife sitting five feet away telling him to stop bothering me.
  • I'm not ready to be chatted up anyway.
  • I may be stronger than I look, and possibly stronger than even I realise, but someone is still my Kryptonite (because obviously I AM Superman. Duh.) And I'm still struggling with this.
  • Starting to drink at 2pm is not the best idea if you end up out until 5am the following day. (Ouch.)
  • It is actually possible to drink enough to overtake drunkenness without stopping and go straight to the hungover stage.
  • It's apparently hard for me to keep both eyes open at the same time when getting my picture taken. At least while I've been drinking anyway . . .
  • Fake tan rarely works the way you want it to. But Spanx are clearly the work of some sort of miracle.

And that's all for now. How were your weekends? Did you learn anything as fascinating as what I learned??? ;-)

Thursday, 4 August 2011


The pole dancing disaster I refer to in the title is, of course, myself.

I've thought about trying pole dancing for years now, but I never quite got around to it. I'm not sure why. The expense? The fear of hurting myself? The fear of HUMILIATING myself? Possibly all of the above?

Anyway, thanks to a friend of mine persuading me to give it a go, I went along to it yesterday evening. I think, secretly, I was hoping I would be a natural. That it would be breathtakingly easy, that I would take to it like a duck to water like a . . . stripper to a pole? Hmmm.

For what it's worth, a male friend of mine chided me slightly for taking part in pole dancing, implying it was against feminism. I have no interest in going to a club and dancing around a pole to titilate men or have them stick wads of ones in my thong. Although I'm not going to judge anyone who does do that either. (Although I judge the men.) I just think the art of pole dancing itself is fascinating. The tricks and stunts people can do on them are immense. And do you know what? They're bloody difficult to do. (I have a newfound admiration for pole dancers.)

As I discovered with the very first move I tried out on the pole. This simply involved me hooking one leg around the pole and sliding around it. I say "simply". There was no simple involved. I kept accidentally wrapping myself around the pole at a strange angle because I could not for the life of me get my other leg to lift off the ground as I slid. It was firmly wedged onto the floor no matter how hard I tried. As if superglued.

The next move involved grabbing the pole then jumping up and wrapping your legs around it at the same time. I watched the instructor do it and it looked so bloody easy. UNTIL, of course, I tried to do it myself. Then I realised that it was deceptively simple. And also killed my thighs to death. I wager I will be covered in bruises shortly, if not already.

The third move, another variation on sliding around the pole, was probably my most successful one, but once again I was hindered by being unable to convince my other foot to come off the floor. And the last one, which involved hooking yourself around the pole and performing some sort of dual windmill kick with your legs? Well, I still haven't worked out whether my arms OR my legs should go during that one!

Oh and considering it was over 20 degrees celcius for a bloody change, the poles, the room AND MY HANDS were sweaty as fuck. Which is not exactly going to help you grasp onto the pole at the best of times, and is going to make you spend half the session running a towel over both your hands and the pole, as well as your stressed-out "I can't do this shit!" brow . . .

All in all, it was a bit of a disaster. The only saving grace was that the poles were split between two rooms and the way it worked out me and my friend were in a room ourselves with just two poles and one instructor. So at least only two other people saw me humiliate myself. Phew.

I've been told that everyone is like this at first, but I find it frustrating. I HATE not being good at things immediately. Which is weird, since I'm clearly not naturally athletic - the only sport I have ANY semblance of talent at is swimming, and even THAT is limited. But, for example, I remember being obsessed with Wimbledon at one point and convinced that if I picked up a racquet I would be the most brilliant tennis player ever - and when I picked up a racquet for the first time and swung it and missed pretty much every ball aimed at me, I suddenly realised I was crap and would have to WORK at it if I wanted to be good . . . and that was just frustrating.

I guess that's how I feel about pole dancing too. I wanted to be able to grab the pole and be able to do the basic moves instantly, without having to put the work in. And now I realise that will just not be the case. But, despite being a bit downheartened about it all, I AM looking forward to giving it another go next week.

Because it is a pole FITNESS class, we had floorwork to do too, and are encouraged to do this part of the workout at home during the week, just to help work on our core and arm strength etc. So I will try and do that religiously to see if it helps at all. Man, I could really use my own pole though.

I suppose I could try the moves out on the nearest lamppost though . . . :-)

Have you ever tried out pole dancing, or wanted to? And if you HAVE tried it, are you any good at it? Any tips???

Monday, 1 August 2011


I'm developing a mild hatred for Bruno Mars.

I'm sorry, Bruno. I'm sure you are a LOVELY guy. You have a lovely voice. A nice (albeit slightly cheesy) smile. And I do kinda love the song "Grenade". I can't help it.

But therein lies the problem.

The songs. The content of the songs. At least a couple of them.

I think they could actually cause relationship problems.

Girls will be wondering why their guys don't sing them songs about how amazing they are.

To be honest, that girl in the video looks like she KNOWS how amazing she is anyway - does she really need to have that validated further? If he was singing it to, say, Waynetta Slob, it might be slightly less cheesy. Albeit a bit weird.

And you'd probably think "man, he clearly is just trying to get in her pants".

(And then, if you know what Waynetta Slob actually LOOKS like, or clicked on the link above, you would then think "no. He's clearly just utterly insane.")

And as for "Grenade" itself . . .

They'll be wondering why their boyfriend isn't claiming that he'll catch a grenade for them, or take a bullet to their brain . . . no matter how mean to him they are!!!

Guys will be feeling simmering resentment that their woman seems to think Bruno's empty promises and cheesy compliments are better than anything they can come up with.

I'm sorry . . . I don't know about you, but I'm catching a grenade for no one. Unless it's like a fake toy one. Cos I think it would probably fucking hurt! (Selfish? Perhaps. I don't care. That's just me.)

Sorry, this is not actually meant as a serious post - my tongue is firmly wedged in my cheek (the cheek on my FACE before you question that!) But I do think there probably ARE some people out there who think that these songs are what relationships really should be like.

I like to be told I'm amazing, don't get me wrong. I like to get compliments. I like the idea that a dude would love me so much that he would want to protect me at all costs. But only if it's a two way street. And not to these extremes.

Bruno, just lay off for a bit okay? (But PLEASE don't produce another song like that song with the dancing monkey men in it. That just freaked me out.)

Anyway, I'm clearly not the only people who found "Grenade" a bit ridiculous. Check out this parody of it that I recently came across on youtube. LOVE!!!! (Consider this an early Cheer-me-Up Tuesday. I really should stop calling it that, since I rarely do it on a Tuesday on the rare occasions I do it. Hmmm. Anyway.)

What do you think?