Monday, 28 January 2013


 . . . when you remember you're not over someone, no matter how much you tell yourself you are.

No matter how much you've convinced yourself.

No matter the fact that you moved on, that you THOUGHT you had met someone else who could replace him. That the nights when you cried yourself to sleep over him were forgotten; that you never would again.

You may not cry yourself to sleep over him anymore, but sometimes.... when you've maybe had a wee bit to drink, and are feeling a wee bit alone.... then you start to miss him again.

And you KNOW that the likelihood of it working out are slim-to-none and you KNOW that you'd just end up hurt again and you KNOW you are just wanting what you can't have and it's stupid and you're an idiot and you actually need someone to knock some sense into you....

But in those moments . . .

In those moments . . .

I just want to rewind time two years and feel properly happy again.

With him.

Sunday, 27 January 2013


Whenever I'm seeing a guy, there's always a stage I'm a little apprehensive about. The first request for a sexy picture.

Because in this day and age of smartphones, it's pretty much an inevitability, right?

I don't see anything wrong with dirty pics, don't get me wrong. I actually sometimes think my body looks better with less clothes than it does with more on. I'm sure it certainly does to a GUY! But in this day and age, you can't help but be a bit paranoid that your picture might one day be not so private. I'm not saying this is down to the guy (although, let's face it, given the amount of revenge sites out there where people post dodgy stuff on their exes, you can never be too careful) but these things can just get leaked out so easily, completely by accident! Look at all those celebrities who get caught out with it! (Not that I believe these were always accidents. Sometimes they are CLEARLY a publicity stunt. But I do believe that sometimes it is a genuine accident. I'm not THAT cynical.)

So I have a sort of rule, where if i'm sending a picture of a naked body part, my face shouldn't be in it. I only allow pictures WITH my face in them if i actually have underwear or something on.

Is it just me though who thinks that disembodied body parts are distinctly unsexy though? I don't really get much enjoyment out of them myself. To be honest, I'd rather just wait for the real thing than look at a picture of it.

Here's another thing too . . . is it okay to recycle dirty pics? I've done it. With the guy from the ferry, I ended up sending him some underwear pics that I had sent to an ex a couple of years ago when he was away on business in Singapore. Judging by the ex's reaction, i figured they'd went down pretty well, so when he asked me for a pic, I actually asked him if he mind if I sent him some ones I'd used before. He seemed okay with that, so I did. But I did wonder if it maybe breached some sort of dirty pic sending etiquette.

I guess there's not really such a thing though. When it comes down to it, it's really what you're comfortable with sending, I suppose. And, for me, it's about making sure I don't accidentally put the picture on twitter instead of in a text message . . .

Do you think there's such a thing as dirty pic sending etiquette? What's your thoughts?

Thursday, 24 January 2013


Around April last year I joined a gym. For only the second time in my life. The first time wasn't a success but I decided this time would be different. For one thing it was cheaper. For another I could sign up online while drunk. (I wonder how many other people sign up in this way.) It was simple. And at first I went quite a bit. I even talked about it a couple of times on this here blog, because to be perfectly honest, I was AMAZED I was going.

The enthusiasm lasted approximately a month.

I've made several attempts since then to make a triumphant return to the gym, to revisit the inner gym bunny that I embraced for that glorious sweaty four weeks last year. It just never seems to happen. I just can't get into it. So I'm thinking about quitting once again. There are numerous reasons for this.

1. The most obvious reason: I'm not going. This is a waste of money. Regardless of whether the gym only costs £15.99 a month, it's £15.99 down the toilet if I'm not actually going there on at the very least a semi-regular basis. If, for example, I went four times a month, that would be an average four pound per visit cost, which still works out pretty good. But I've not been since . . . November? Possibly October. So I've wasted at least forty five quid, and that could have bought me a new dress. Or two. Or seven bottles of cava . . .

2. I hate my gym clothes. But because I'm wasting money on the gym, I can't afford to buy nice new ones. And there's only certain colours you can actually wear anyway. Because, I don't know about anyone else, but I don't actually LIKE people to see the sweaty patches on my clothes.

3. My face turns an unbecoming shade of purple when I work out. And my eyebrows apparently disappear into the purple, which makes me look like an alien. A purple alien. Wearing bad gym clothes with potential sweat patches.

4. I always seem to injure myself - it's always silly niggly injuries but it's always enough to take me out of the running for a few months.

5. I hate other people seeing me exercise. This is partly because I think I run stupid. But also the aforementioned purple face and bad gym clothes. I KNOW it's not a catwalk, it's a frickin' gym, but that doesn't mean I don't want to look at least a LITTLE attractive.

6. It's hard to use the gym as a way to escape if people who annoy you in the rest of your life end up going there. So you have to go at times that don't necessarily suit you just to make sure you avoid them.

7. On that note, I hate going to the gym when it's busy, which means if I'm working, I need to leave bang on four pm to make it to the gym before half past so I can get through my gym routine (if you can even call it a routine) before everyone else in the city centre gets out of work. This is a pain if I'm really busy in work.

8. Having to cart my gym bag into work along with my regular bag is a pain in the arse.

9/ The gym is out of my way, so I have to walk for 20 minutes INTO town after work, then either subject myself to the rush hour subway or walk two miles home after I've exhausted myself on the machines. The walking usually wins, so I tire myself out more and then want to die by the time I get home. (Someone who lives really close to the gym had the absolute CHEEK to complain about the pain of having to walk to the gym and back one day. Jeez.... if there had been a cliff nearby, that person would have been pushed right off it.)

10. Due to the fact that the gym IS out of my way, I am more likely to go to it if I'm meeting friends/family in town afterwards. Thus the workout is negated by the inevitable two course dinner and several thousand glasses of wine which will follow . . .

11. All my potential gym buddies who could help motivate me finish work later than me.

12. It's just BORING. Running on a treadmill and going nowhere isn't my type of thing. The crosstrainer loses its appeal after about three minutes. It's hard to get enthusiastic about the step machine when you have walked up two flights of stairs to get to the gym in the first place.

13. Oh and my nerves are jangling every time I have to get on or off the cross trainer. One day I'm convinced I'm going to fall right off it. And then I'd be too embarrassed to ever go back anyway . . .

Looks like it's back to the home dvds and dumbbells for me then . . .

Do you like the gym? Have you ever quit one? Or more than one? Please share!

Thursday, 17 January 2013


Now, I spoke to you a few months back about my obsession with snoods. Which IS still an obsession by the way. I've actually added to my collection and now have seven of them, and no intention of slowing down with the snood purchasing. I really am a snoodaholic.

But this weekend I appear to have found another new obsession.

Skinny belts!

In one weekend in London, I have acquired four new ones.

I found the illuminous pink and yellow ones in H & M in Camden. The yellow one was reduced to two quid and the pink to one quid. How could I say no???

And then on my third trip to Forever 21 in the space of a month (oh how I LOVE that store), I picked up the blue one. And then the leopard print one.

Aren't they all so pretty? Much like snoods, I think I can see myself buying more skinny belts very soon . . .

What have you been buying loads of recently? Any current addictions?

Monday, 14 January 2013


Wanna see me climbing the pole in my pole fitness class?? I may not be able to do a lot of the moves still, and I may still completely improvise with the way I climb, but I managed it four times at last week's class so.... proud of me! ;-) It may also explain why my arms were killing me for days afterwards though.... Ouch.

Wednesday, 9 January 2013


It's been a while since I checked out my statcounter... partly since my blogging frequency has gone waaaayyyy downhill in the past few months, so I haven't really had a reason to be that curious. But now I'm sort of finding my way back, I went on to have a look at it last night.

christmas willy warmer
(Jeez, you post ONE picture of a willy warmer and you're NEVER allowed to forget it...)

i keep having strange hallucinations
(Yes, I once hallucinated that my bra was on my desk at work. I wonder if the person who found me this way had weirder hallucinations than that, or if they read it, shrugged and then thought, "shit, I'm normal in comparison to this chick, what a psycho.")

my own murfy's law
(The spelling made me laugh. That is all.)

www. seat humping for a ride,
(I'm scared to try and find out if this is a real website or not. Does someone want to check for me???)

blog about my boobs
(MY boobs, or YOUR boobs? Mine are pretty boring apparently. Hence the reason why I once blogged about a guy falling asleep on them, which is probably why you ended up on my blog as a result of your search. Poor you.)

yum yum get some lanzarote
(I was thinking this could make a good haiku but there's not enough syllables. Oh well...)

saying you're only as young as the man you feel
(Oh so true...)

is a pole dancing climb difficult?
(Yes. Trust me.)

hot guys Glasgow
(I'm afraid you're not going to find much on ANY website about this, let alone MY site!)

Is Kelly Jones married now?
(Yes. To me.)

I think that THIS one has to be the most disturbing one though... Stand back, we have a winner!!!

using a bath towel to pee in
(this is NEVER something I have even CONSIDERED doing. Honestly!)

So there we have it. People come to my blog because they want to marry the lead singer of the Stereophonics and want to check he's not going to be committing polygamy if they do; they are looking to hump seats and have taken a bit of a wrong turn; they have a cold willy, or know someone who does; OR they've decided that toilets are just too much of a cliche to do their business in.

I feel so honoured, but also really sorry that I wasn't really able to help them out with any of their problems. Sorry guys! I hope you found what you were looking for in the end.

Checked YOUR stats recently?

Tuesday, 8 January 2013


I miss TMI Thursday. Remember TMI Thursday? When the blogosphere used to unite and share their TMI stories, thanks to the fabulous LiLu?

And I have a slightly TMI story so I figured I would have another go at TMI Thursday . . . but on a Tuesday instead. Hello TMI Tuesday!

So.... the guy from the ferry. Back when we were playing that pesky little "will we/won't we meet up again for a shag game" prior to our December rendez-vous, there was the odd occasion where dirty texting would ensue. Nothing too seedy, or even that risque for that matter. Generally an exchange of pics where I would ultimately pass out mid-text and the next morning all was apparently forgotten. (Until next time it happened, obviously.)

So at the start of November, one such conversation had started. Mainly because he'd lost his phone, had to get a new one and lost all his contacts, so had told me via twitter that I'd have to send him a text. I did so. Then it descended rapidly into the picture requests. And, well, I'd been drinking so . . . it seemed like a good idea at the time (doesn't it always?) . . .

Okay, I thought. I'd send him a picture of my boob.

(Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I actually find pictures of an isolated body part pretty weird looking. Unsexy even. But each to their own eh???)

So I took a picture of one (to be honest, I took several until I found one I was vaguely happy with.) As I wasn't that long back from Spain at the time, it looked extra ridiculous due to my tan line. I clicked "share" on the photo, typed something suitably self-deprecating about my tan line, and sent it.

Two seconds after I did it I realised I hadn't sent it as a text. Too used to sharing pics on twitter, I had posted it onto twitter!

Panic stations immediately! I jumped into my twitter app and immediately deleted the tweet. Phew, i thought and left the panic station, my heart pounding, hoping against hope no one had noticed it in the approximately 20 seconds it had been in the twittersphere. No comments appeared so I assumed I was in the clear. I sent the photo again (carefully) as a text this time, to the right person (I was extra paranoid by that point) and mentioned I had just put my boob on twitter too. He said he took it I'd taken it down, I replied of course.

So that was all well and good. The conversation continued, some more pics were sent, I passed out as per usual, and nothing was mentioned again about meeting up again etc until the December meeting.

But in the meantime.... a day or two after my accidental flashing of twitter, I had went onto the photo sharing site I used at the time to share my mobile pics on twitter. I never really went into this account, so it was a total fluke that I did; I'd had to sign into it and everything. But whatever the reason, thank goodness I did.

Because I may have deleted the offending tweet.... but the picture of my boob was still on this website.

So basically anyone who had decided randomly to look at my pictures would have found a picture of a disembodied boob with a freakishly great tan line. I deleted it in such a hurry I didn't even get a chance to notice if it had any views. That's probably a good thing.

I've actually not sent any rude pictures SINCE that night but if the opportunity ever arises (no pun intended) again, I will be VERY careful when it comes to hitting that "share" button.

Wouldn't want to make a total tit of myself again after all.

And, yes, THAT pun was DEFINITELY intended . . .

Ever done anything this stupid yourself???

Monday, 7 January 2013


 . . . I am going to London next weekend!!!

This is exciting because:

1. I have only ever been to London for work.
2. It was a very last minute plan where we only booked flights on Thursday and accommodation yesterday.
3. I'm going with my fab sister.

Not so exciting because:

1. I am absolutely skint.

That's a bit of a pain but fuck it, I get paid on the 14th so hopefully I can still enjoy myself and just worry about the money afterwards.

Anyhoo . . . what should I be doing when I'm down there? I'm staying in the Camden/Euston/Kings Cross area. My sister has done Madam Tussauds and the London Eye so don't really want to drag her to do that again. What pubs/restaurants should we be going to? Recommendations would be greatly apreciated as when I'm down with work I tend to just go along with whatever my colleagues want to do at night. Plus when I was down in December I was stuck out at the ExCel centre and my only two adventures were to Oxford Street and to the Westfield at Stratford. So would be nice to get out and about a wee bit more.

Ideas??? (Thanks in advance!)


So about about five weeks ago I posted about how I'm single and okay with it, and I mentioned the guy from the ferry and how he occasionally suggested hooking up but never followed through (no pun intended.) I honestly never thought that would come to fruition, but somehow, that very weekend, he DID end up coming through.

It was a random thing, where I woke up on the Saturday morning with no idea that I'd be falling asleep with him in my bed that night. I suppose in much the same way that the day I woke up to go to Belfast I had no idea that in mere hours I'd have met a guy on the ferry and have his number.

And it was nice. Y'know? It was good to see him in person again, he's a bloody hot motherfucker that's for sure. (Given I'm not that much younger than his mother that probably isn't the best phrase to use to describe him but oh well...) Like I said before, I know it is just sex . . . but now I feel like I have a bit more closure. I still like him.... but last time he came over to mine I didn't realise I wasn't going to see him again for months. I knew our little holiday fling had an expiry date, but I hadn't realised that the date we first slept together would in fact be the actual date everything expired. I'm not sure he knew that either, to be honest, but it was. In a way. Obviously we were still in touch occasionally, we had met up for that brief drink in August, but the 1st June was the day it first expired.

Can something expire twice? It certainly doesn't work with food. You bin it and never see it again. It doesn't always work quite that way with relationships with actual people though. It's not really so clear cut.

The thing is though, he's not going to be my future, there is probably a very big chance that I will never see him again. That's okay. It was nice to have that night though. Bonus night, I guess.  It was nice to wake up to someone next to me too. It's been a while.

In a lot of ways though, it reminded me that I still have outstanding issues with a different guy.

And that was a can of worms I was hoping wouldn't be opening again.

Stupid brain . . .