Wednesday, 29 January 2014


To be honest, I think if you know me and/or read my blog at all OR just read my post from a couple of weeks ago (even without the accompanying "flashback" links) then no explanation is necessary for why I couldn't get involved in the Dryathalon happening this month.

It's a very worthy cause, don't get me wrong. I fully support it, and support what others are doing. And I completely admire their willpower! But I just couldn't do it myself. Let me outline the reasons why.

1. I just love wine too much. I could probably give up other alcohol without too much hassle. But keep me from my wine and you will awaken the wino beast that lurks inside me. The beast who can sniff out a white zinfandel at fifteen feet, or hear a cork pop out of a cava bottle a mile away.

2. I would turn to food to fill the hole alcohol left. And it would NOT be healthy food that would satiate me. Oh no. It would be pure unadulterated junk food. Oh, I KNOW people like to tell you that giving up the booze can help you lose weight and I don't doubt this... However, I'd be the one with their face in a family sized bag of Maltesers while typing the Dominos website into my web browser WITHOUT EVEN HAVING TO LOOK AT IT. THIS IS WHAT NO BOOZE DOES TO ME!!!

3. Who would I blame for my stupidity if I didn't have the alcohol to turn to??? So I make a stupid, dumb, embarrassing comment and that's all me??? Nothing to do with the alcohol? No. That just doesn't work for me.

4. I find it really difficult to sit in a pub with a soft drink. Especially when other people are drinking. Not even necessarily the people I'm with. They could all be drinking soft drinks too. I'll be staring jealously at the group of people at the next table, who are possibly drinking some vile alcoholic concoction that I would never normally drink in a MILLION years. Wondering if I can ditch my table and somehow befriend them.

5. Cava/ prosecco/ champers

6. Rose.

7. Sauvignon Blanc.

8. Um... the last three were really just reason number one all over again weren't they???

Anyway, just because I have no willpower whatsoever when it comes to the evil grape doesn't mean I'm not fully supportive of those eschewing all booze for this cause. If you've made it this far . . . then I raise my glass to you!

(Sorry about that.)

Who all is taking part?

Monday, 27 January 2014


I've became a bit obsessed, in recent weeks, with the programme "Come Dine With Me". I'm assuming most of you know it, but in case you don't, it's basically four (or five) strangers who each take a turn to host dinner at their house. Cue recipes going wrong, personality clashes and a lot of bitching. What's not to love?

But I couldn't be a contestant on it myself. Why, I hear you ask?

***I'd have to tidy up my flat for a start. And, to be honest, I don't think it's big enough for a dinner party anyway. Or fancy enough by far. Once you got the camera crew in there'd be no space for guests!!!

***There's usually a part where the guests go and poke about through the host's things. I don't really like people going through my personal possessions, much less showing them off on TV. Although, to be honest, I don't know if I have anything dodgy enough to make it interesting...

***I can't cook very well. Which is probably the major hindrance here.

***I'm absolutely rotten at small talk. I'd be the one who drank too much due to nerves and either threw up over herself and everyone else, or spoke complete and utter bollocks and ended up coming across as the tossiest of tossers.

***I'm not a particularly fussy eater, but there are things I'm not particularly keen on. Like certain types of seafood. Or prawns. Or parsnips. So you could guarantee these would be things I'd end up being forced to eat out of politeness at the other contestants' houses.

***Seeing me cooking - sorry, ATTEMPTING to cook - would not be particularly interesting, apart from the decidedly blue language they would have to censor out when I ended up chopping off my finger. Plus if I've bled into the beef stroganoff (ha! Like I can actually make that!), I don't want my guests or the tv audience to know about it...

***The tidying up afterwards. My dirty dishes have been known to sit in the sink for several days. Sometimes I only wash them up when I realise I don't have a clean wine glass. After cooking three courses for four or five people the debris would be APPALLING. That could traumatise me for WEEKS!!!

So... no. I think I'll give taking part a miss, and just enjoy it on the TV instead. Much safer for my nerves and will save me potentially giving other people food poisoning. :-)

Would YOU go on "Come Dine With Me"???

Sunday, 19 January 2014


I hate showering.

Yep. I said it. To me, showers are the devil. A necessary evil, granted. But one I wish I could avoid.

I know most people probably love them. And what's not to love, I guess. In fact, I used to be OBSESSED with showers when I was younger. I grew up in a house that only had a bath and I used to BEG for my parents to install a shower. (They waited until after I moved out for that to happen.) If I went on holiday and the place I stayed had a shower, I would go absolutely NUTS with joy. In one hotel I even went as far as to shower four times in one day. Yes, FOUR times. That's how much I used to love showers. I mean, how dirty can one person get???

Now I've regularly had use of one for a good ten years or so, I hate them. They're just not relaxing.

I mean, you are standing up the whole time. I can go and stand anywhere. And not have to dry myself afterwards.

It's just so bloody BORING, the whole process of showering. It is mind-numbing. I so prefer having a bath. I can relax and read in the bath. It's a lovely relaxing ritual.

I have very occasionally taken a book into the shower with me, just to make the process a bit more interesting. Especially when hair-dyeing, as it takes so bloody long to get the dye out of one's hair. The book always gets wet unsurprisingly. Have they made a waterproof Kindle yet??? :-/

I would like to point out here that I do shower. I don't avoid them just because I hate them. Like I said, they are still necessary, even with the way I feel about them. But don't expect me to enjoy it.

Stupid showers. :-(

How do you feel about showers? More of a bath person?

Sunday, 5 January 2014


I have a lot of drunken stories. It's inevitable when you go on as many nights out as I do. At some point soon I will dredge out the darkest corners of my memories where the drunken anecdotes usually go to hide and do one epic post on it.

You already know many of them if you've read my blog for any amount of time. Do you remember the time I ended up speaking to guy on facebook and agreeing to a date which I wouldn't normally have done while sober? Who I then the following day considered deleting my entire facebook just to avoid the situation? (In the end I just pretended it hadn't happened and it was never mentioned again.) Or the night I accidentally flashed the internet?

Then there was the night I had all of my colleagues on a night out searching for my phone when it was in my bra the whole time. And who could forget the time I managed to fall over with a bottle of wine in my bag... and it smashed. A wasted handbag is bad enough... add the wasted wine to that and it's positively a tragedy.

Anyway, this post has inadvertently turned into a flashback episode, like one of those cop-out episodes of "Friends". It wasn't meant to be. I was just going to tell you my latest one.

So on Friday night I was out with my boyfriend and his brother and sister-in-law. We were out for dinner, but there was some alcoholic beverages consumed beforehand, wine during the meal, and then it was still early when we left the restaurant, so we headed back to the original pub. There were many rounds of drink, to the point where I sensibly decided on a few occasions that instead of having a wine I would have a shot of sambucca instead.

(Okay "sensibly" is perhaps the wrong choice of word. BUT it made sense at the time.)

So eventually the pub was closing and we left. At which point, just around the corner from my flat, I was overcome with the urge to puke. (I have been puke-free since about July of last year so this was disappointing to me.) So I proceeded to do so on the street. Also a bit on my shoes. And also a bit on my boyfriend's shoes.

That is all fair enough and I'm pretty sure even the hardiest of drinkers amongst us has been in such a situation. What I DON'T understand is why I then decided to throw my snood (one of my favourite snoods at that!) on top of the pile of sick. My boyfriend says it happened in a split second, one minute I was wearing the snood, the next I had ripped it over my head and flung it on the ground.

Was it because I was angry I had been sick? Or had it ended up on the snood? Or was I simply trying to make the ground look pretty and distract from the mess I had just made???

Who the fuck knows anyway.

Did anything silly while under the influence recently???