Friday, 30 August 2013


I was looking through my draft folder on this here blog, and I came across a post which I composed in the middle of 1999. About F. I never actually published it at the time, I think because I have always personally found that the second I tell people I'm happy or that something is great, it's almost destined to fall apart. A sort of pride-comes-before-a-fall type thing, y'know?

So I never posted it. It fell apart anyway, which sort of ruins one side of my theory, but hey-ho. I saw it, and it made me smile and you know what? It might be four years old, it might be about a newly-engaged guy from my past who I now, once again, only have contact with via Facebook, BUT? It actually is pretty much my "perfect guy" list . . .


. . . why I like this guy?

1. He's cute.
2. He cracks me up.
3. He doesn't seem to mind my tendency of blurting out the first thing that comes into my head.
4. He knows I like to fish for compliments but he'll give me them anyway, just to humour me. (And sometimes cos I deserve it, of course!)
5. He asks me what I want for breakfast and then goes out and buys stuff and makes it for me!
6. When I picked up one bottle of rose in Asda the other night, he laughed and asked was I sure I didn't want TWO bottles?

Number six is obviously the best part . . .

So yeah, I'd like those six traits in the next guy I meet . . . without the silly ending I ultimately had with F.

Is that too much to ask???

Thursday, 29 August 2013

TIRED OF . . .

  • the state of my flat. I keep planning to come home and get it sorted once and for all. But work is so busy, I've only had two week days off since I moved, I've been working a lot of weekend days, and by the time I get home I'm just so tired the last thing I feel like doing is sorting stuff out. I thought I'd be able to show it off to you all WEEKS ago but I still have loads of boxes kicking around because I have nowhere to put the things inside them. I think I need some more bookcases etc before I can get it all totally sorted out, but if you remember, I'm low on cash so . . . Yeah. sigh. :-(

  • saying yes when I should probably be saying no.  Sorry for all the cryptic. Let's just say . . . sometimes I want to say no, but I feel like it would be cutting my nose off to spite my face a bit . . . That being said, part of me feels resentful for being told I'm not good enough to do something.... but apparently I'm okay to be the "understudy".

  • people who think they can sit and do fuck all instead of doing their work. Contrary to your apparent belief, you are NOT actually being paid to sit staring at your iPhone all day. Pull the finger out eh???

  • my hair. I asked my mum to trim it two weeks ago and she took more off than I intended. I'm not bald by any means, but I really don't like it. I went much blonder just to compensate for the lack of length. It made sense at the time. But I actually want to be even blonder. Am I blonderexic???

  • my phone battery. Why you run out of charge so quick??? I'M not the one sitting using it all day at my desk after all . . .

What are you tired of right now?

Wednesday, 28 August 2013


I'm not good at confrontation. I know it might not seem like that from my blog persona. I like a good rant, don't get me wrong, but my ranting is better carried out in writing, otherwise I get tongue-tied and can't argue properly. I also don't really like people thinking I'm a bitch or falling out with me. I just hate arguments and would rather avoid them if at all possible.  Even if it occasionally means mildly compromising myself (not in a rude way, get your mind out of the gutter, okay???).

Sometimes I think this is definitely to my detriment though as I think people think I'm a pushover and are surprised on the rare occasion that I don't just bend to their will.

Prime example of this was tonight.

As you probably know, I go to a pole fitness class every Wednesday night, and have been for about two years now. And with the exception of maybe five absences due to holidays or illness, I have been to every 5.30pm Wednesday night class that was on for these two years. I have never been to a different time of class.

Recently the class moved premises and downsized to five poles from ten.... and not just downsized in terms of numbers of poles... the poles THEMSELVES have definitely shortened too, although the instructor has been trying to deny this. The place is also much more cramped. But because of the fact there are far less poles now, the class structure isn't as flexible as it used to be. You basically have to tell the instructor if you're going to be at the next week's class while you're at your current class.

Fair enough. However, our instructor is a bit flaky. Last week when we turned up she told us she'd accidentally booked us in for the half seven class, but "it's okay, there's space in this class." Er - thanks for that.... cos it's OUR fault you booked us into the wrong class anyway???

Then tonight me and my sister turned up first and she told us she'd accidentally booked one too many girls into the class and would we mind sharing a pole. My sister said that was fine straight away, but I made it clear I wasn't happy, thinking she would clock it. Which she did. But she just thought we would do it.

Did I mention I pay 35 quid for my weekly class on a four weekly basis? So despite us paying the same amount as everyone else she was expecting us to share a pole? How was that fair. I could feel my blood boiling. So I marched out of the changing room and said I wasn't happy, that the classes were expensive enough as it was without me having to share a pole and get half the benefit and I didn't think it was fair she was asking us to do it.

She was okay about it, and just asked her two friends that come to share in the end (which she should have fucking done in the first place, as far as I was concerned!), which actually makes sense as half the time they all end up trying to do complicated moves on the same pole anyway, but I then spent the whole class feeling guilty that I'd spoken up and basically had a go. But on the upside, I've probably never tried so hard as a result of this guilt and wanting to prove I NEEDED a pole for the whole session.

But this is what happens on the rare occasion I speak up for myself. I end up feeling like shit.

That's not good, eh?

I think I need assertiveness training....

Tuesday, 27 August 2013


 . . . or lack thereof.

You know, when I moved out of my flatshare at the end of June, I wasn't stupid - I KNEW I was going to struggle a bit. That was one of the reasons why I'd actually chickened out of even TRYING this year.  Obviously my landlord took that decision out of my hands, which I'm probably a bit relieved about because moving into a place myself HAS improved my life. And obviously the fact I didn't have to scout around because of my ex passing his place on to me when he was moving helped too, and I think I would have struggled to find anything much cheaper in this area or any other area I like because what I am paying is pretty reasonable. But . . .

When you go from paying less than 400 pounds a month for EVERYTHING - and I mean everything, from rent to bills, to council tax and internet - to paying MORE than 400 just on rent itself . . . it's pretty daunting. This is pretty much the first time in about six, seven years that I've worried about how much electricity I'm using, panicking because I've left a light on unnecessarily, actually properly worrying about how much money I have on a month to month basis.

I've missed a birthday present and a wedding present for friends so far and when invitations come up for nights out I do actually have to think about whether or not I can afford it. Hell, I've only even ordered off asos ONCE since I moved. Once in two months??? That's pretty unheard of for me.

I'm trying to think of ways to make some extra money, not so much to live on, but as savings "just in case". I've been taking all the overtime I can get (within reason; I do need to have some semblance of life outside of work after all!) I've got some clothes I can sell, I have had three boxes of stuff for Music Magpie that I actually had pretty much packed up months before my move, I'm doing online surveys for a pittance,  I'm writing reviews for ciao again . . . oh, and I have a shitload of change that I really need to take to a Coinstar machine at some stage . . . but it's not going to make a big dent in my skintness.

It looks like I'm going to actually have to - gulp - make up a budget.

I have no idea where to even BEGIN with that, so any advice would be greatly appreciated.

In the meantime though, the feeling when I walk in my front door, close it behind me and realise I have the whole place to myself . .. it makes me feel FAR less bitter about my newfound lack of disposable income . . .

Monday, 26 August 2013


. . . is under-rated.

Not the subject in school. I failed that. I didn't fail a lot, but chemistry was definitely my weakest subject.

But chemistry between a person and another?

It's there.

And you can imagine it is there all you want . . . and maybe you're right and maybe you're not . . .

But once you KNOW someone actually likes you and you run into each other and for once, rather than thinking "is he into me? am I imagining it?" but for once you actually KNOW he is . . .

That is a pretty awesome thought.

I miss that feeling.

Sunday, 25 August 2013

THE F BOMB . . .

So F got engaged a month or so.

Were you around for F? If not, he was the guy I fancied in high school. The one who I never told I liked him but ten plus years later I drunkenly started talking to him on FB and after an 8 hour epic facebook chat/drinking game I told him so and he basically said he had felt the same. And then he asked me out a few days later.

And it had been nice, of course, but after the first few weeks had descended into paranoia due to him ignoring me, and blahblahblahtheusual until I was eventually broken up with. Although can you call it breaking up when your "relationship" such as it was had been at the end consisted mainly of sexting and meeting up every few weeks or so for a couple of drinks then sex??? Probably not.

Anyway, I knew he was now in a relationship, and I knew the girl it was (I don't KNOW her, but she had been in one of his plays he'd been directing  so... yeah) but it still came as a wee bit of a shock when it appeared on my facebook timeline that he was engaged.

I looked at it, a bit taken aback, and then I clicked "like" as I realised I was genuinely happy for him. I don't think me and him were really meant to be. I think we both came along for each other at a time when we needed it - he wasn't long out of a very long term relationship and I had been out of my last relationship for a year and was feeling a bit rubbish about myself so to be validated by a high school crush was an AMAZING feeling - and although I was hurt when it all ended, I actually didn't shed that many tears over it considering I do cry over ANYTHING! So.... if this girl is the one... then good for him. He probably deserves it. Despite everything that went on between us, and the way it ended, he was actually one of the good ones.

It did get me thinking though about how any guy I get involved with seems to end up in a super-serious committed situation very soon after we end. I have two who are living with girls, two who are married (one with a kid), even one who ended up in a longterm relationship with one of my FRIENDS right after me (although that came to an end quite a while ago and she has been with someone else for a looooonnng time now.) And now F is engaged too.

Don't me wrong, it's not what I want at the moment. I've only just got to live on my own properly for the first time in 33 years and I'm not ready for a baby either, but I suppose I feel a wee bit bitter in a way. Even if it's NOT something I want right now, you get to a point when you think why didn't/don't THEY want it with you???

But then maybe that's why. Cos maybe they can tell I don't want it with them?

Who the fuck knows though...

Tuesday, 20 August 2013


As you probably know, I moved from my flatshare to a flat all to myself about seven weeks ago. It's in the west end of Glasgow, just like my previous one, but it's at a different END of the west end, which means my walk to work has pretty much completely changed, apart from the last five minutes or so of the walk.

And it is soooo boring. Seriously. In my old place, I could vary the route and go by road or through the park and, even when I went by road, I could go down a different road if I wanted a change. But my new route is pretty much just straight along Dumbarton Road for half an hour, and I was sick of it by about day 2 of doing it. I took up listening to music on my way to work again (I go through phases where I can't be bothered and need to keep my mind clear so I can think) but even that hasn't livened things up for me.

My latest challenge to try and liven things up is to use the cardio trainer app on my Samsung Galaxy to track my walk to work and how long it takes me. I average around 40 minutes at around 3.5 miles per hour. Which is pretty good considering I have teeny wee legs (so much so that a possibly cute guy walked past me the other day but he was going too fast for me to establish if he WAS definitely cute or not). So I've been trying to build this up, this is my new way to make the way to work interesting - I am trying to see if I can get my speed up and increase the amount of average miles per hour I can do. I don't think I'll make it past 4 miles per hour on average but that's what I'm going for at the moment.

The problem is, I experience pavement rage in the extreme at the best of times so this new challenge has actually made me even worse.... because woe betide if I get stuck behind you if you're just out for an oblivious leisurely stroll. (Although if you ARE out for a leisurely stroll sub 8am on a weekday then I really DO wonder about you.) And the frigging traffic lights are out to get me too.... they are apparently determined to skew my average by making me weight at junctions for unbelievable amounts of times. It got to the point that I've now taken to stopping the timer on the app if I think I'm going to have to wait for a while... but then I've got to remember to put the fucker back on once I start moving again!

I don't even know what the point in this post is. Maybe it's that exercise actually has the potential to make me even angrier at myself and the world? But then exercise doesn't have a sole patent on that feat anyway. ANYTHING can make me angry really. Except nice things. Tell me nice things. PLEASE???????

Monday, 19 August 2013

Last week I was ridiculously emotional. Like, seriously, my moods were just all over the place. Mostly negative, admittedly, swinging between extreme rage and random freakouts where I just burst into tears and sobbed like my heart would break.

Then my period started and it all sort of made sense.

But it just felt worse than usual. I dunno. I couldn't really put my finger on it. Sometimes you just feel like shit and you don't know why. This has been a weird year all in all. A lot of shit has happened. Nothing epically bad but lots of little things just piling up on top of each other until something really has got to give and the pile of shit is going to topple over and you're going to lose it. Or something.  I don't know where I was going with that metaphor, but I don't really know how to describe it either. It's strange.

Much as I love living alone, sometimes it's weird not to know I could have company if I want it. Maybe my head is just struggling to get use to the solitude after ten years of people always being around.

I want things to turn around though. I want the few months of 2013 to be better, to end the year on a high. I'll concentrate on trying to make myself fitter, continue trying to prove my worth, and hopefully everything will eventually fall into place and I won't feel like I'm struggling, and failing, to keep up with everything.

And, with that, I'm going to be bed. Because it may only be 10pm, and I may not be remotely tired, but my bed is probably the closest to a cuddle I'll get right now.

Sunday, 18 August 2013


So I'm not a One Direction fan by any means. I mean, I like cheesy pop music as much as the next person, but I don't like a cheese OVERDOSE. Well, unless it's ACTUAL cheese. Then it's okay and I've done it on numerous occasions.

Yeah. They are waaayyy too cheesy for me. And I don't think it's just because I'm outwith their target age range. Even when I was younger, I liked boybands to some extent, but I was never a massive superfan of any of them. Did I want to marry Mark Owen a bit? Okay, maybe. (Thank god I didn't, based on how HE turned out.) But I didn't really want to hunt him down, or even particularly go and see him in concert and consider throwing my knickers at him.

So watching last night's "Crazy About One Direction" documentary on TV was a pretty weird experience. Sort of hilarious, but mostly a wee bit disturbing. This documentary followed a number of their fans over the UK as they tried to meet their idols, or just told us how much they loved the band.

It was a little bit scary. For example, the Taylor Swift thing. Obviously the One Direction angle here is that she dated Harry from the band. Remember, him that dated the girl my age once upon a time??? (still feel very VERY icky about THAT story on Caroline Flack's behalf.)  Now, I am NOT a fan of that girl. I don't know what it is about her. I don't HATE her, but I have no time for her. Some of these fans though? They LOATHED her. And it was a bit "damned if she does, damned if she doesn't" . . . she couldn't win. They hated her when she DATED Harry Styles, they hated her when she DUMPED him.

Then there was the gay fan fiction. Many of these girls seemed to think two of the members of the band are DESTINED to be a couple. I think Harry was one of them. (He seems to get all the action, eh? Even the imaginary kind.) They were actually ROOTING for them to get together. I guess it's nice they're open to that, although seems a bit odd if they are in love with their idols.

But there was one particular story which touched me a bit but actually made me feel a bit sad, and a bit bad for slating these fans at all. There was a girl who had met them, had hang around with them in the past (as a fan first and foremost, not as a friend), and she said all she wanted was to be their best friend, she didn't want to go out with them. But then, when asked if she didn't want a boyfriend, she said she just wanted to focus on One Direction, which seems like a pretty fucked up reason to want to be single. Fair enough if she was IN One Direction and wanted to focus on the "music" (sorry, I HAD to put inverted commas around that) I gradually felt for her a lot. I felt like she was on the verge of a  nervous breakdown and that makes me sad because she actually seemed like a nice girl, albeit a tad naïve and impressionable.

One day she's going to look back on this show (as I'm sure the other fans taking part in it will too) and probably be very embarrassed about the way she was portrayed and the things she chose to say. Do you really want to go down in history as Harry Styles' stalker??? I definitely don't think I would.

So yeah . . . it was all a bit weird and disturbing. Obviously this was only a small portion of 1D's fans.... I'm sure they're not the representative for all of them. But it just showed the difference social media makes when it comes to pop superstardom and fanbases - back in the day, I had no idea where Mark Owen was. Nowadays you can narrow down the coordinates of a specific celebrity just by doing a spot of twitter stalking. It's actually fairly terrifying. I don't think I would want to be famous in this day and age. It must be exhausting.

Overall, as the show ended, I just felt tremendously sorry for the guys in One Direction. Dealing with the fans must be a lot like having a second job! I couldn't do it. I just wouldn't have the patience for it.

Did you watch? What did you think? And were you ever obsessed with a celebrity?

Sunday, 11 August 2013


It's been looming for a while now. I put it off for as long as I could, but it was almost inevitable. I could feel it becoming more and more of a necessity . . .  and finally I had to give in.

I made my return to the gym.

Le sigh.

I didn't want to do it. I had all these grand plans that I was going to freeze my membership and use my new flat as my basis for all my exercise. And I'm not using "exercise" as a euphemism sadly. My flat has seen no action of the "good" exercise and not very much of the ACTUAL exercise type either.

The gym is just so boring!

BUT I need the motivation of other people being around to actually do the whole exercise thing. Otherwise I just sit there and watch music TV, curse the fact I don't have a body like Beyoncé post-pregnancy or the girls in the "Blurred Lines" video and comfort-cava-drink (that's a thing, right???).

Sooo I went...

And it was every bit as bad as I thought.

From the two flights of stairs I had to walk up before I even exercised (bearing in mind I now live on the third floor and still breathe heavily six weeks on after doing it at least once a day), to the girls in the changing room invading my personal space DESPITE the fact the place is pretty much deserted, to the actual EXERCISING part.... I did not enjoy it one bit.

My thighs are now actually killing me.

This had BETTER be worth it. It really better.

Sunday, 4 August 2013


Silly questions . . .
Fastest. Weekend. Ever.

I swear to god, it feels like it was Friday only a couple of minutes ago. It was fun though. Had my godmother's 50th birthday party on Friday night, and that was a good laugh. We don't have many extended family get-togethers (or perhaps it's just that my direct family don't usually get invited) so it was nice to catch up with everyone and get my dance on.

The "dress" . . .
Yesterday I had the evening part of one of my colleague's weddings in Loch Lomond. It was a great night, and I got to debut a new dress. . . although a last minute paranoid moment resulted in me trying to change several times in a panic, eventually going back to the original choice and leaving a trail of "wedding appropriate" clothes all over my bedroom floor. So we headed by bus to Loch Lomond, enjoying a wee cava en route (in plastic champagne flutes, obvs!) and once the music started, I could not stay off the dance floor. There was even an hour of 90s dance music, specially requested by the bride and groom. Once I started dancing, I didn't really drink much, so my hangover was pretty much non-existent today.

That being said, I had to go in and do overtime at 8am and forgot to set my alarms. Luckily my sister had anticipated this and phoned me at 7am to check I was still up. I wasn't. Threw some clothes on and made it in to work dead on 8. Phew. Thank goodness for my sister!

Champagne on the bus . . . we so classy!

All in all, work excepted of course, it's been a good weekend. Great even. Although someone I actually quite respected really pissed me off and surprised me with something he said to me. It could have been the drink talking, granted, but it upset me a lot, and I was really surprised of what he was basically accusing me of. But yeah, I guess when alcohol is involved that's when the truth always comes out . . .

I'm going to try not to let this bother me. The guy in question clearly has some sort of underlying issue with me, and if he wants to believe what he was implying I had did, then fine. Let him think that. I know it's not true and the people who are important of me know it's not true. And that's far more important than some dude who doesn't know the first thing about me, right?

And so on we go . . . I've spent the rest of the day after work in the city centre, trying to calm down after my outrage. Wee bit of lunch, wee glass of wine, wee ranting a bit. I'll calm down soon. Maybe.

Let's use one of my current favourite songs as inspiration.

Just breathe....