No leather undies this year... Goddamnit it!

Christmas is a funny time of year. On the one hand you get, you know, loads of cool stuff, which is awesome (and my stuff was very cool this year, including the food processor to end all food processors with which I will process much food and force my friends and family to eat it while saying "this comes fron Kenwood, where they make make great electric things with which chop, and slice, and blend..." and my friend and family will be very bored and wish for me to SHUT UP), and there is all the food you get to eat and not feel guilty about, which is a massive bonus because food for me always comes hand in hand with a large helping of guilt. Then on the the other hand, there's all the family you have to spend time with which you wouldn't ordinarily spend that much time with, and certain people who will remain nameless spend it hung over, texting their friends and shooting you disgusted glances because they CANNOT BELIEVE YOU ARE EVEN STILL ALIVE, YOU ARE SO POINTLESS (I'm not naming names, no siree, I will not even be drawn on what relationship she is to me MY SISTER AIMEE, Oh whoops! Did I just type that?).

Glenn bought me the most beautiful coat, and a jacket (see how well he knows me, he co-ordinated the presents by season! Can you say "OCD is contagious"? Can you?), and the new Madonna CD, and he framed a photo of us and a photo of my family, which was incredible sweet (although it means I have a large photo of my head in a frame and a large photo of Demon Sister).

My parents out did themselves this year, traditionally they go a little crazy on the presents, my sister and I have woken up on Christmas morning to piles and piles of presents for as long as I can remember and this year was no different. except this year Glenn also got a stack of presents (to my absolute disgust, THEY COULD HAVE SPENT THAT MONEY ON ME!). My mother has a history of buying me slightly bizarre presents though, my first year at uni she said all my gifts were going to be practical, and I though that would be cool, I would get a nice bag, or a coat, what I did not expect was to open 150 individually wrapped tampons, no, that I was not expecting, but that is what she did. The next year she said she was going along a more fun route, and she bought me a leather mini skirt, two basques with matching thongs and suspender belts, thanks for that mom, about that career I'm supposed to be finding for myself? Think I may be going down a slightly different than you seem to be envisaging for me......

So since The Year Of The Tampon and The Year Of The How-To-Be-A-Hooker Gift Set, I have been wary of the present pile, but the woman, she did good! She pretty much got me everything for my kitchen that I hadn't got but also hadn't thought about getting, casserole dishes (sorry, what was that? I don't make casseroles? I Don't know WHAT you mean.......), serving spoons, a cake slice and I know that it all sounds very dull but you don't even realise you need these things until you stand there with a large chocolate cake, six people round the table and only a paring knife with which to serve it. And there were clothes and make up and suff too so she could say that she personalised it.

Dinner was fabulous, I'm not going to list what it was because I bet you had your own fabulous meal and everybody always thinks that they/their mom/their dad/their grandma/their guardian/adopted... oh for christs sake... cooks the best dinner, but I'm telling you, you have not eaten until you have eaten Christmas Dinner with Ma Davis, she might not consume food herself (Good God no!), but she sure knows how to cook it!

So I suppose I should mention Jesus, or the poor, or I should add a senstive poem or something, and I totally would but the thing is, Christmas for me is just a time to be happy and to see people who you don't normally see. I give to charity every month, on Christmas day we take a walk along the river in Stratford and give alcohol to homeless people (see how nice we are?!) and I subscribe to things and I care (I might not sound like I do, but I do, those TV appeal things make me cry EVERY SINGLE TIME) but I think the constant, preachy, ram it down your throat approach makes more people switch off than switch on. Everyone has their own personal demons, relatively speaking everyone suffers the same pain, we just get through each obstacle the best we can, so Christmas for me, is about recognising it, then putting it to one side and having a good time.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and that you have a great New Year, I hope that 2006 fixes all the things that were wrong with 2005 but makes all the good things greater.

And my personal gift to you all is this - ANTONY DZERYN CRIED DURING KING KONG! I SAW HIM! HE'S A BIG GIRLY GIRL!!!! ANTONY - BIG CRYING GIRL! hee hee!

Christmas Thanks

Dear friends and colleagues,

My heartfelt appreciation goes out to all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me "forwards" over the past 12 months. Thank you for making me feel special and bringing many a smile to my face.

Extra thanks to whoever sent me the email about rat crap in the glue on envelopes - 'cause I now have to go get a wet towel every time I need to seal an envelope. Also, I scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason. And i no longer drink CocaCola because it I know it can remove toilet stains, which is not exactly an appealing characteristic.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS. Or sit in cinema seats for the same reason. I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day. I no longer go to shopping centres because someone might drug me with a perfume sample and rob me. Or if I did survive the shops I would be grabbed, raped and murdered by a nasty man in the car park. I no longer eat KFC because their "chickens" are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

However, I no longer worry about my soul because at last count I have 363,214 angels looking out for me. Thanks to you I have learnt that God only answers my prayers if I forward an e-mail to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes. I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl on the internet who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time). In fact, I no longer have any money at all but that will change once I receive the £15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special on-line email program.

Yes, I want to thank you all so much for looking out for me that I will now return the favour ! If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 7 minutes, a large pigeon with a wicked case of diarrhoea will land on your head at 5:00 PM this afternoon. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbour's, ex-mother-in-law's, second husband's, cousin's beautician. Only then will you be able to enjoy the festive season with your special friends and family and prepare well for the new year.

Oh, and Have a nice day !

Best wishes for the festive season

Not a great role model

So I got home today to lots of Christmas cards, which was lovely, and almost all of them said something about having a great Christmas in our new home, which is really lovely.

Then I opened one which chilled me through my skin, into my heart and attacked my very soul....

It was addressed to 'Uncle Glenn and...... Auntie Hannah'

Holy Fuckin' shit, I appear to be an Auntie, how the bollocking fuck did that happen?

Thought of the Day

Never pluck your eyebrows when you're drunk, and have poor light.

Baaaaaad things can happen.

It's all the carrots.

Conversation in my bedroom last night, I had just set the alarm on my phone and turned off the bedside lamp.

Me; Hey, I can see really clearly, you know normally the light goes off and I can't see a thing but I can see everything.

Him; That's because the light is still on your phone so it's lighting up the room.

Me; Oh.

Him; Wait a minute, did you think you had, like, magic eyes or something.

Me; Course not.

Him; You did! You thought you had magic eyes!

Me; I did no such thing.

Him; leaning over me, Ooooh, I can see everything, your eyes and your teeth, and THE FUTURE!

Me; rolling away You are not very nice.

Him; I'M A SUPERHERO! WITH MAGIC SEE IN THE DARK EYES!

Me; I hate you.

Him; You love me.

Me; I hate you.

Him; You and your magic eyes LOVE me.

Me; SLEEPING NOW.

Him; Goodnight Baby.

Me; Arsehole.

Gareth Coombes

The man can be a little harsh sometimes, he's the kind of person who every so often, just ocassionally, you have to just hold yourself in check and say 'it's ok, he doesn't really mean it, he's just being funny', and this is the truth, I have no doubt.

Sometimes I have a hard time getting along with people who are very similar to me because the sarcasm and constant piss taking gets in the way, but I find that as long as everyone has their cards on the table, and says ok, I don't mean it, you're just going to have to understand that because I am not going to run after you and hold your hand while you tell me how horrible I am because I said something that went too far, I'll say sorry don't get me wrong but God knows I'll only say it once, then it's cool.

Basically all I really wanted to say is that he is a funny, funny man, and he doesn't have a blog, but if he did, I would read it, and I would link to it, and I would tell everyone about it, and he would win a prize, and that prize would possibly be lots of DVD's about rugby, or some pork chops, ar a large helping of Boob Of Liz, but believe me, he gets a lot of that anyway, so I guess he doesn't require that to be an actual prize, oh I know! His prize can be that I promise to tell Liz that she should never put tiger balm on his man bits, I discovered recently that you should never, ever put tiger balm on someone's man bits, apparently it makes them feel like they are dying, from the balls up, I don't know how a person could die from the balls up but there was lots of clutching of aforementioned balls and shouting of "MOTHERFUCKINGFISHSTICKGERONIMOCOCKBASTERDWHYWOULD
YOUDOTHISTOME?!".

This post was because the comment on the previous post made me laugh out loud unexpectedly, and because it was unexpected, I spat tea all over the desk in THE GAMES ROOM and so, because I am a great believer in giving lots of compliments (I am a stupendous giver, Stupendous. Giver.) then I just wanted to say that Gareth Coombes is a funny man.

Funny. Man.

Funny.

Now I have to throw Glenn out of the living room so I can watch something with the DELECTABLE David Tennant who is in love with me although he does not know it yet. One day David, one day.....

FOOS!!

Bonjour,

This morning I am writing to you from my study, no, sorry, I am writing to you from the games room (I was reprimanded on Saturday night for INSISTING ON CALLING IT THE STUDY WHEN WE HAD AN AGREEMENT AND IF I DON'T CALL IT THE GAMES ROOM HE WILL MOVE OUT SO HELP HIM), because I have the day off, days off are lovely, yesterday was a tremendous day made all the better by my waking up and knowing that it was not the last morning I could sleep in for a week, I had a whole other day to sleep in, ah lovely sleep.

Last night I full filled one of the things I have to do before I die and I saw Dave Grohl, there he was, stood right there, in the same room as me. (I know that there were about 10,000 other people there and that the room was the NEC, but stay with me) I was there, and he was there, and he was with the other Fighters that Foo and they were AWESOME. Just incredibly, totally brilliant.

They were supported by The Futureheads, who were very tight, a little repetitive, but I could not fault their tightness, as Glenn said, they were clearly brought up on a strict diet of The Clash, but hell, could be worse. I would say that on a summers day, they would make a more than adequate festival band, and that with a beer in hand, I could happily pass an hour listening to them.

But the Foo's (I can call them that because I know them now), they were stupendous, and the 15 year old inside me who was obsessed with Nirvana nearly passed out last night when he went a-drummin'.

So this morning, it's my day off and I am listening to Hey. Johnny Park and remembering how last night, Dave Grohl, Genius, sang this song only for me.

Men

You'd think they'd learn about the menstrual thing wouldn't you - its quite simple: once a month you have to be careful of me, but never ever mention why you are being careful of me, just do it, and without fail at some point during the week when the hormones are a pain in the arse, the man in your life is either a complete cock, or says "christ, its your hormones isn't it?", and it's not the hormones, cos when you look back less hormonal, they were still a cock.

(not written by me)

Reply to Very Girly Email (and by far my very favourite of all the emails I have received today)

I am worshipping you like a goddess as I email, in fact, I have a small altar set up on my desk, dedicated to you in a lots of candles and a photo of you and glenn torn in half so glenn is no longer visible shrine type way.

My hairdresser is called Bruce. It costs about £27-32 ish for a cut and blowdry i think. He oozes enthusiasm and gumption.

love, your biggest fan, me x

Very Girly Email (But before you roll your eyes like that, I'd just like to ask what the hell you expected, I mean I am in fact, A GIRL)

Alright Mrs Woman?

I have just this minute noticed that I missed a hair appointment last Saturday, I thought it was this Saturday at 11 and it wasn't, it was last Saturday, and I didn't remember, so I didn't go.

Anyway, thought this was the perfect opportunity to not go back to the woman who does my hair with half hearted resignation and find someone who, for a price that is around £30, will do my hair with enthusiasm and gumption, yes, gumption.

So what is the name of your hairdresser? Where is it? What does he charge (not including colour)? Will he have any weekend appointments before Christmas? Will he love and commit to my hair with all the energy of his fancy ass hairdresser being? If he will not, do you know anywhere that will?

These are important questions and they need answers, providing you are not terribly busy....

Love, me x

(Who by the way, has this morning bestowed genius like knowledge of Managment Information Systems upon the world and deserves to be WORSHIPPED LIKE THE GODDESS SHE IS)

Wasn't she lovely?

Everything is Illuminated

Please, please, please, if you are going to go and see the film, please read the book first, or even afterwards if you must, but please, please read the book either way. It's wonderful and from what I have seen about the film they have cut out all the best bit, the golden thread that runs through the novel, all the fantastical parts that make you laugh and cry at the same time.

Anyway, that's it, read the book, it's by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Writers block.

I have it.

That's why I put two book extracts on here, cause I can't think of a single thing to write.

Question - What do you get a 54 year old man for Christmas who has no hobbies and doesn't like music?

Beautiful

"You used to see some hope, Teacher."
"That was such a long time ago."
"Not so long a time. Six years?"
"But in my mind the time is buried under centuries now. True, I used to see a lot of hope. I saw men tear down the veils behind which the truth had been hidden. But then, the same men, which when they have power in their hands at last, began to find the veils useful. They made many more. Life has not changed. Only some people have been growing, becoming different, that is all. After a youth spent fighting the white man, why should not the president discover as he grows older that his real desire has been to be like the white governor himself, to live above all blackness in the big old slave castle? And the men around him, why not? What stops them sending their loved children to kindergartens in Europe? And if the little men around the big men can send their children to new international schools, why not? That is all anyone here ever struggles for: to be nearer the white man. All this shouting against the white man was not hate. It was love. Twisted, but love all the same. Just look around you and you will see it even now. Especially now."
"I have looked, Teacher," said the man.
"I only wish I could speak with your contempt for what goes on. But I do not know whether it is envy that makes me hate what I see. I am not even sure that I hate it, Teacher."
"It should depend on what that person wants himself, no?"
"But, Teacher, what can I want? How can I look at Oyo and say I hate long shining cars? How can I come back to the children and despise international schools? And then Koomson comes, and the family sees Jesus Christ in him. How can I ever feel like a human being?"
"Yes. Life gets very hard when veranda boys are building palaces in a matter of months. If you come near people here they will ask you, what about you? Where is your house? Where have you left your car? What do you bring in your hand for the loved ones? Nothing? Then let us keep quiet and not get close to people. People will make you very sad that you do not have a house to make onlookers stumble with looking, or a car to make every walker know that a big man and his concubine have just passed. Let us keep quiet and watch."
The rain has not been much, and it has made scarcely any noise, but outside, the little gutters by the roadside had swift little streams in them now, brushing toward the sea, and the air was misty, as if the rainwater had not fallen, but remains suspended, gathering heaviness.
"Teacher," said the man, "you know it is impossible for me to watch things that go on and say nothing. I have my family. I am in the middle."
"Will you let yourself be destroyed first, then?"
"I don’t know. When I speak of Koomson my wife looks at the children and I can see how sorry she feels for herself."
"You will have to leave her to enjoy her own sorrow. Unless you are eager to destroy yourself to feed her desires. O you brave married man. In the end you have to see the redness of her gums. If it frightens you, you don’t get married at all. You run away like a coward, like me. But you are brave. You have chosen to fight her. And the whole society is behind her."
"It’s been a very soft rain," the man said after a pause.
"Yes," his friend said. Then, "I am sorry I have been unable to give you what you need."
"What is that?"
"Strength, I suppose."
The man laughed weakly. "Don’t worry," he said. "You know what you’re about. And you understand. That’s enough for me."
"You are kind," said the other. I know my life is empty, one thing yours is not. Now all I do is read books of other places and other times, listen to the music of South Africa and the Congo and the Afro-Americans. And often I remember Maanan and the bitterness and the emptiness of life rise up in me. That is all."
Near the place of the prostitutes there were little puddles left by the gentle rain, some beginning to flow, looking for gutters. Occasionally the naked bulbs of street lamps shed a little light on holes in the back walls of bathrooms filled with strands from communal sponges cemented with the green moss and old suds killed with dirt and sweat so long ago, and the water still trickling out.

(The beautyful ones are not yet born - Ayi Kwei Armah)

(NB: The unusual spelling of the above title is consistently ‘corrected’ by readers and editors. It is from an inscription on the back of a Ghanian taxi-bus which Armah chose to indicate his sardonic vision of the state and society of his country just before, during and after the reign of Kwame Nkrumah)

Excellent

“…time is not like space. And when you put something down somewhere, like a protractor or a biscuit, you can have a map in your head to tell you where you have left it, but even if you don’t have a map it will still be there because a map is a representation of things that actually exist so you can find the protractor or the biscuit again. And a timetable is a map of time, except that if you don’t have a timetable time is not there like the landing and the garden and the route to school. Because time is only the relationship between the way different things change, like the earth going round the sun and atoms vibrating and clocks ticking and day and night and waking up and going to sleep……

Time is a mystery, and not even a thing, and no one has ever solved the puzzle of what time is, exactly. And so, if you get lost in time it is like being lost in a desert, except that you can’t see the desert because it is not a thing.

And this is why I like timetables, because they make sure you don’t get lost in time"

(The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon)

Reasons why you should purchase 'David Bowie - The Platinum Collection'

1. Because it's awesome, and amazing, and genius.

2. Because frankly it would be a shame if no one else on the planet was ever caught dancing around an office, wiggling her arse by herself at 8:00am singing "Hot Tramp! I love you sooooo...."

Question of the Day

HOW GAY IS JASON ORANGE?!

Seriously! I don't ever remember him being that gay! Surely I would have remembered him being that gay....?

"I've been travelling, done some college courses, had a lot of time to sit... ponder... I'm 35 now and I should probably do something with my life but I'm not sure what... I have trouble sleeping though, I go to bed and I'm exhausted and then I can't sleep, I think it's something inside me willing me to fail..."

I'll tell you what it is, it's your body's way of telling you to GET A BLOODY JOB. You've done nothing for TEN YEARS, of course you can't sleep, your body is lying there going 'what's the point? Not like we need energy for anything for tomorrow...'.

It'd probably like a bit of cock though...

Strangest Conversation I’ve had all week, in fact, if I’m honest, the strangest conversation I think I’m ever going to have in my whole life.

Scene – I am sat in the office of a college which is being inspected, during inspection, inspectors are able to wander around the college at will, popping into classes to observe.

A tutor rushes into the office and approaches me.

Me; Can I help?

Her; They can’t come in!

Me; Who can’t come in?

Her; The inspectors, they can’t come in, the angels won’t like it

Me; I’m sorry, what?

Her; The angels say they can’t come in

Me; Who are the angels?

Her; The angels, the angels from God, they came this morning and told me that the inspectors cannot come into my class, today is a very bad day.

Me; Urm, right then, I’m not sure I can tell the inspectors that, they kind of think they can go wherever they like because, well, they can go wherever they like.

Her; But they can’t come to my class, not today.

Me; Right (I look around the room for help but everyone is either hiding under their desks or convulsing over them) I’m not sure what to say, uh, do you think that you could have a word with the angels and ask if, maybe it would be ok for them to observe for, like, 20 minutes or so?

Her; I don’t know (wrings her hands) I’ll have to ask them.

Me; Could you then? Only it’s quite important.

Tutor walks into the corner and begins singing to the wall in what I think is Latin but could always just be THE LANGUAGE OF THE CRAZY BONKERS, she waits, then comes back.

Her; Ok, they say 20 minutes will be fine.

Me; Excellent, thank you very much.

The reason I am under accesorised

Where I am working this week is currently being inspected, this is quite a big deal and means everyone has to look respectable, keep their heads down, BE ABLE TO RECITE THE MANIFESTO, and generally change their personalities as much as is humanly possible.

So I thought I'd make the effort and look like a proper consultant rather than a pretend one. I got out my smartest suit, and, inspired by Miss Lizzie, I dug out this rather pretty silver bangle someone bought me because I thought it would look nice and compliment the suit.

First thing anyone said to me as I walked through the door this morning?

"So, when the inspectors ask me why we're employing gypsies, what shall I tell them?"

Overtired and underaccesorised.

This morning I was struck by the realisation that I was entering the identification codes of registers onto an access database to create a 'register of registers'. It really has come to this, I cannot adequately express my incredulity at how different my life is from what I thought it would be.

But that's ok.

However, last night and the night before, I wasted an hour and a half each night watching the abysmal bollocks that was the ITV drama 'Walk away and I stumble'. For Fucks Sake, how manipulative and just plain bad does a piece of television have to be?! Tamsin Outhwaite was bad, Mark Strong was bad, that woman off that other awful TV thing was bad, and yet, when the denoument was upon me last night (loving that word 'denoument', but have possibly spelt it horribly wrong, will say exposition instead), and yet, when the exposition was upon me, I found myself crying like a baby.

So that's the second time in one evening I have found myself crying at some dreadful piece of TV, the first being when a hyperactive American made over some crazy woman's house (he gave it a lift - A LIFT!), she was screaming "It's so AWESOME", and "Oh My GOD", and I nearly threw a brick through the television. Except then her son came to see it and he was in a wheelchair after a terrible accident and he was crying, and she was crying and then I was crying...

I know what you're thinking, and it's not, I know that it sounds like it is, but it's really not, that's been and gone, which makes it all the more weird....

Only thing for it, going to have to either give up TV altogether, or just watch porn.

The reason I should never have signed up to Telewest

Extreme Makeover Home Edition made me cry.

Email

Me: I'm just so fucking cold.

Her: Put the heating on then.

Me: It's not that, this office is populated by middle aged women who have to have the air conditioning on because 'they need the air'.

Her: Tell them you're too cold.

Me: Well I keep mentioning that it's cold but they just tell me I am younger than they are, I'll give them air, I've got a whole box of HRT at home, I should bring it in and spike their coffee with it, that'll warm them up.

Her: Wear warmer clothes.

Me: I'm going to dress like Scott of the fucking Antarctic tomorrow.

Her: Am trying to hold back giggles at the thought if Scott of the Antarctic in heels.

Me: Bet he had awesome legs.

Her: knobhead.

This morning, before I switched my brain on...

Walked into the ladies toilet, looked into the loo as needs must before placing delicate arse upon it's shiny white seat and found that the water in the bottom was dark blue.

First thought?

'Christ, someone's ill.....'

www.Nixwords.blogspot.com

Had email today from a lovely lady from uni who has started one of these here blogamathingies, so have passed on this address and willl hence forth pass on all my incredible blogging knowledge -

Pearl of wisdom number one - Never say anything about anyone that you wouldn't say to their face, because when they find your blog and read it, that will be soooooo very bad.

Pearl of wisdom number two - Never talk about your family, see above.

Pearl of wisdom number three - Never talk about work or work colleagues in such a specific way that you may get dooced for it, see above.

Pearl of wisdom number four - Never post random photo's, that will only serve to highlight your poor photographic abilities.

Pearl of wisdom number five - Never post photo's of yourself, that will only serve to highlight your poor photogenic abilities.

Pearl of wisdom number six - Imagine the one person in the world who you wouldn't want reading your blog finding it and reading it, all the stuff you would never ever want them to know is where you draw the line, see number one.

Pearl of wisdom number seven - Never mention your boyfriend's bits, see number one.

Pearl of wisdom number eight - Rant, rant loads, this is the greatest and best outlet for ranting I have ever found, so what if people think you're hysterical, they probably thought that already.

Pearl of wisdom number nine - Stop caring about punctuation, you know the saying 'life is too short to stuff mushrooms'? Well life is also too short to give a crap about comma's/commas/commas'/com'mas/c'o'm'm'a's'.

Pearl of wisdom number ten - Wear matching underwear, one day you might wake up in intensive care, and when they tell you that they cut off your trousers and you remember the yellow bra purple knickers combination you were wearing, you're going to be so embarassed.

Because I could post a photo of the Eiffel Tower, but you'd be expecting that...

Armistice Day 2005

Craglockhart

No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and the strain
Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.
Of course they're 'longing to go out again'-
These boys with old, scarred faces, learning to walk.
They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed
Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,-
Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud
Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride...
Men who went out to battle, grim and glad;
Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.

Siegfried Sassoon, October 1917

It's a sad, sad day when you realise your boyfriend is right and you are wrong.

Last night, in an effort to drag my miserable arse back to life, we went to the pub. I don't normally drink mid week but thought it would be ok, clearly I thought this because I had forgotten exactly why I don't drink mid week.

I suffer from the most horrendous hang overs, and I suffer from them at the mere sniff of anything alcoholic. They hit at about 6.30am and the worst is usually over by 11, so the only way to deal with them is to sleep through it. Hence! (because you should always follow the word Hence! with a capital letter) I don't drink mid week, because I have to be up for work in the morning.

Last night though, I thought it would be ok, and to be fair, I only drank two (large) glasses of red wine but then on the way home the motorway was closed (Oh The Swearing) and we ended up on the south bound M40 which leads, not to my house, but to Oxford and ultimately London. This meant we had to go a different way home and to cut a long and, as I'm sure you'll have figured out by now, incredibly boring story short, we were very late, at least two hours later than my have-to-be-asleep-or-I-am-unable-to-function-in-the-morning time.

Unfortunately, I also had my red wine head on rather than my sensible mid week head on, and my red wine head wanted to stay up and do rude things. Glenn, who had not had a drink but had spent the evening being chased down a field by large, hairy men (I believe in some circles they call it 'rugby') said 'sweetness, are you sure, I don't want to dampen your spirits but you'll regret this in the morning when you can't wake up' (what he actually said was something like 'GET OFF ME WOMAN' but for the sake of his internet reputation I've edited it slightly), but my red wine head was like 'I have had two glasses of wine! I am INDESTRUCTABLE! Bring it on with the rudeness! How much do you love me? Huh? HUH?! HOW MUCH?!'.

And now, I really, really wish I had just gone to sleep.

For goodness sake...

...I wanted to DYE, not DIE a wedding dress.

Honestly.

Delete

You know when you're over something, because it happened a long time ago and by now you absolutely should be over it, but it plays on your mind and you think about it late at night and you have all these unanswered questions and even though you are happy now, happier than you ever though you could be, you still wrestle with these moments of panic and sickness whenever you think about it, or someone mentions it unexpectedly.

The out of the blue, you get a chance to ask all the questions you ever needed to, you get a chance to talk and make peace and have some sort of closure.

But you don't do any of those things, you make polite and awkward conversation, you tell each other how happy you are, how accomplished you are, you reflect on things in a 'weren't we young and silly' sort of way, and you never say what you really want to because you think that because you have found yourself able to talk, you don't need to anymore.

Then it's months later and there it is again, the nagging, stabbing thoughts, only the chance has gone, and even though you could ask the questions you need to so you can sleep at night, you can't because you're afraid of what you might hear. You're afraid of what you might find out about yourself, about back then, about opening up old wounds which you never closed properly, wounds which split open and weep and sting.

And you're back where you started.

...and the story is...

... that I wanted to get a hideous and cheap wedding dress, chuck it around in the garden, die it with tea and go as the corpse bride, but for some reason, hideous and cheap wedding dresses are really hard to find.

So I ended up getting a hideous bridesmaids dress (circa 1982) from a charity shop for the bargain price of £2 (I washed it so it didn't have that dubious charity shop smell don't worry) and then ripped it up a bit, sewed some spiders on it, stuck some fake wounds on myself and here is the end result:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mochinbach/60013668/

(because I don't know how to do that thing where you have 'and here is the end result' in a different colour because it is in itself the link)

The back story to the costume is that I am a bridesmaid who was on her way home from the wedding and was attacked by a particularly lust fueled Vampire (hence the odd, nipple type bite wounds stuck on my neck that you can't see because, for a long dead Vampire, I have very shiny hair) and now I walk the streets at night, searching for my next victim, furious not just because of the fact that I am now a Vampire myself, but because I am consigned to an eternity in the worst bridesmaids dress ever to be forced upon creation....

Then, about halfway through the night, after explaining this story, some smart arse said 'but I don't get the spiders', so then I was just Zombie Bridesmaid.

I think it was the fourth Halloween party of Moch and LOF's that I have been to, it was the first one I actually got a costume for and no, I will not be doing it to myself again.

(And what the fuck is it with the double chin? Seriously, did the fat just work its way up to my face for one night only or is that what I actually look like because if it is, you have permission to shoot me just as soon as you are able)

Conversations and an observation at a fireworks display

1.

Him: Did you see all those people dressed up back there?

Me: Yeah, the ones collecting money for charity?

Him: Yeah, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying and I was looking at one of them wondering what she was saying and why she was dressed up and then as we walked past them she suddenly looked me straight in the eye and said “CHILDREN WITH AIDS”, I was really confused…

Me: (Laughing) well you should feel bad about the CHILDREN WITH AIDS, did you give her any money?

Him: I couldn’t find any change.

Me: Oh dear…

Him: So I gave her some of your money.

Me: Well wasn’t that nice of me?

Him: Yes it was.



2.


After feeling like a bloody great mammoth for the majority of the last two
months (just one long, extended fat day), I have felt pretty good this week
on my healthy eating plan, and then yesterday morning in the hotel, noticed
some scales and as I haven't weighed myself since July I thought I'd get on
them with one eye shut and standing on one leg (because that is BOUND to
make me lighter) and I have lost a stone since July apparently. Think this
is probably the scales rather than me, different scales say different things
according to my mother, but it made me feel better so that's ok.

In celebration, I had a samosa, I am RADICAL


3.

Me: Can you smell that?

Moch: Yeah, does it make you want some? Does it? Eh? Does it?

Me: Yeeeeeeah, I’ve got some but I lost it, it was in my underwear drawer, think G’s hidden it in a non-approving way, like the time he put it in the lampshade in the living room and then giggled behind a cushion while I tried to find it.

Moch: Either that or I’ve hidden it in a non-approving way…

LOF: And then she’s given it to me and I’ve had it…

Me: Is that’s what’s happened to it?

Moch: Could be….

Me: I’m so shocked!

Moch: (Laughing) Not really you dafthead, haven’t touched it, think Mr Dz might have it though…

Me: Mr Dz, have you been going through my underwear drawer?

Mr Dz: (confused as has been out of ear shot of the conversation), eh? What? Who now?

Me: Have you been looking through my pants?

Mr Dz: (sly smile on his face) noooooooooo, me?

Me: Oh! It’s you! You’ve been through my knicker drawer!

Mr Dz: I’m denying all knowledge.

Me: So is it you who took my pink bra because it’s gone AWOL and now I just have the knickers and I can’t wear them if I haven’t got the bra…

Moch: how the hell did this conversation happen?
Me: Seriously now, has anyone seen my pink bra?

Nothing to say but as God is my witness I'll say it.

Have one of those headaches where you feel like your eyes are being pulled out of your skull one way and your brain is being pulled out of your skull the other way, urgh, it's so disgusting, just feel sick. Predictably the painkillers are on the kitchen table, 220 miles away from home, someone in this office might offer me one when the blood starts dripping out of my ears.

I am going to talk more about Paris at some point, I am working on a tres witty and entertaining report but it's not quite ready for your delectation just yet.

But have to tell you about Team Kitchen, who spent Saturday working their little and large arses off and have finished all the big jobs that have been plaguing me since, ooh, about June. Will post some photographs so you can have visual evidence of what has been boring you to death asap. In the meantime rest assured that other than a post moaning about the painting jobs and general finishing off that I have to do, the kitchen saga is no more! It even has a door hung proudly (nudge nudge) between the kitchen and living room now so I can have, shock! Two separate spaces...! My God, the luxury...

AND I have a blind in the living room, so my front room window no longer provides a cinema screen view into my life for all the neighbours, passing cars, double decker buses, health visitors, postmen, loitering teenagers, old people, dog walkers, that previously looked into my house daily, everyone wave now!

Next stop... The Bathroom....

And the pre-Christmas diet started on Monday, so far I have only had the urge to violate it once and that involved a cup of lentil soup that I resisted so doing quite well so far... My mantra, which I heard on the radio at some point, is 'If it swims, it thins!' which means my diet at the moment consists of salad and tuna sandwiches on wholemeal bread for lunch and steamed vegetables and fish for dinner, at some point I will rip the leg off a still sqwarking chicken I am sure but thus far (and we're on day three remember) I am ok.

Glenn has attempted to make the diet more interesting (not that I'm making him conform to it, he eats the same as he always has) by arguing that as the mantra sort of rhymes, I should be able to eat other food that fits it, like 'if it's in tins, it thins' and 'if it has limbs, it thins', but I will not be fooled! I am following the my mother school of weight loss, which means I should weigh absolutely nothing by Christmas, if this doesn't work then there's nothing for it but to break out the crack. You got to love that crack.

Ah the prettiness..... Don't close your eyes!!

This is a shop in Paris, no really, this is a department store. It's called Gallerie Lafayette and we went because my father recommended the food. I want to know where my Dad hides all his money because he clearly has a lot more than he's letting on, man, I would be so much thinner if I lived in Paris....

Please don't let the ornateness (is that a word?) of the building fool you. IT'S SO YOU DON'T NOTICE THE SMELL. This is true, the reason Paris is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen is to distract you from the cornea searing stink of the place. You walk around taking in all the sights and sounds, The Louvre is beautiful and the Notre Dame is beautiful and the Eiffel Tower is beautiful (if a little unsteady) and the Sacre Coer (sp?) is beautiful and if you were blind, you'd just be walking round saying 'Seriously! Pass me the oust! THE FRENCH NEED THE OUST!'.

10 things I learned this week

1. Paris smells of wee

2. Paris sometimes smells of poo

3. The metro in Paris smells very badly of B.O

4. Parisien people are very rude (especially to English people)

5. The reason Parisien women are very thin and very stylish is because you clearly have to choose to buy either food or clothes, I fail to see how anyone could possibly afford to do both.

6. Paris affects my boyfriend's bottom system in some very strange ways

7. The Eiffel Tower sways precariously at the top

8. My feet hurt, like, seriously, even after we'd stopped walking, even two days after we'd got back, they still fucking hurt.

9. I can't use flickr. Does this mean I am in fact, totally technically inept?

10. It really doesn't matter which airline I use, high end or low end, I still hate flying. It just is not natural.

30th October 2003

Two years ago today, a very cheeky chap took me to a tapas restaurant in Cambridge called The Bun Shop, inferred I looked like a prostitute, made me buy all my own drinks, talked about a subject he shouldn't have ever mentioned for about for 45 minutes, he chatted up a geordie girl at the bar while I sat waiting for him to come back, he made me walk in the pouring rain for an hour looking for a taxi and then asked me if he could come back to my hotel because his bed was lumpy.

It was the second worst date I had ever been on.

Two years later and we just got back from four days in Paris. Back to our house that we have been renovating, back to the duvet we claw at each other for, back to the dodgy blind I altered using glue and nail scissors and back to the toilet that doesn't flush.

Happy Anniversary Doofus, it really doesn't matter how much money we (don't) have, or whether the toilet flushes, or how ugly the hedge is, I wouldn't swap our life for anything.

Multiple Choice

You wake up in the morning and for no reason other than a great deal of self loathing, you decide that, despite the fact that it is clearly hideous, you will wear the yellow blouse with the crudely drawn giant red flowers on it, to accompany your masochistic black, polyester trousers with the tappered leg that you think show off your ankles but actually just show off your socks.

You look at yourself in the mirror and notice that you cannot fasten all the buttons on the blouse without leaving giant gaps between each one, exposing a vast expanse of stretch marked skin.

Do you:

a) Change while crying softly into your wardrobe, or

b) Wear it anyway because you have no respect for yourself and besides, people will surely be too busy staring at your stripy black and red hair to really notice.

I think the Gates of Hell must look at least a little like this.

I've thought long and hard about putting this on here and have decided, in the words of Nike, to just do it.

Yesterday I had what some people would call the journey from hell, I would agree with them, had I not had a conversation with my father than will crop up later. I got up yesterday at 6am, I was out of the house by 6.30am and at work in Bolton at 9.15am, I left work at 4.30pm thinking I could comfortably get home for 7.

At 6pm, feeling very proud of myself for making such good time, I encountered the back of a traffic jam caused by a 14 car pile up less than two miles from the junction I leave the motorway at in order to reach my house. It was 8pm before my car moved again and 8.20pm before I got home.

I rang Glenn and annoyed him for a bit, I rang my sister, I rang my parents. I was feeling very sorry for myself and then my father said "well, it could be worse, think of the poor buggers at the front."

"I know", I said, "they must have been sat there for hours waiting for the police to move the 14 cars"

My father sighed the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves normally for news about petrol prices and said "No Hannah, the people IN the cars that crashed, if there are that many cars and they haven't been moved there must be quite a few people trapped."

"OH!" I said, feeling more than a little embarassed, "yes, how awful....."

Anyway, so yesterday was a 14 hour day, which is not unusual. Except someone had asked me recently if I had seen Neighbours. Apparently there is some 20th anniversary thing going on at the moment and all the old cast members from when we were kids have been on it, and I am ashamed to say that my head nearly exploded last night remembering that conversation. All I could think was 'some people get to watch Neighbours, and these Neighbours watching people get so much more money and holiday than me AND WHY AM I STILL SAT IN THIS GODDAM FUCKING HEAP OF SHIT CAR?'

A few months ago, I wrote something on this here blogamathingumy about how it's really important to find the good grace to be proud of people's achievements and happy for their successes, even, and perhaps especially, when they surpass your own. I am trying to be that good of a person, I am trying to be that good of a friend. It's just that sometimes, when you're sat in your car 14 hours after you left the house and Neighbours is something reserved for sick days, no matter how excrutiatingly proud of someone you are, it's a lot harder than I think it should be.

NB: Please don't anyone post a comment about how I should get another job, I AM TRYING.

Dream Weaver.....

So last night I had this dream, me, my friend and my mum were on a day trip to this church, and my mum said that it would be a nice place to get married, and the weather was nice so I should get married there that afternoon, and then there were all these people, and my friend was in a bridesmaid dress (in a fetching shade of primrose yellow), I had a wedding dress on and Glenn was coming in the car so we could get married but I kept crying and saying 'but I can't, it's not time, my sister isn't here and she's supposed to be a bridesmaid' and Glenn arrived (who was not Glenn but someone called Toby who I went to school with) and he was saying 'you can't let me down, everyone's waiting' and I was crying and saying 'I'm sorry but I just can't, I don't understand, we only came to look at the church, how did this happen?'........ And I woke up in a mad panic and was greatly relieved to find myself not engaged.

Weird.

Told Glenn and he told me to remember that panic I woke up in for at least the next five years.

Today I am sat a desk belonging to a woman who works part time and I am surrounded by at least 8 photo's of her baby girl, so tomorrow expect a post about a dream that involves walking into Baby Gap to look at the prettiness and then finding myself giving birth later that day, OH THE HORROR.

Email I received today (because when you can't think of anything to write yourself, you should steal other people's stuff).

Subject: I haven't got a blog...
Date: Wed, 19 Oct 2005 12:22:42 +0100 (BST)

...but if I did I would write:

Colleague 1: I feel really old today.

Colleague 2: You are thats why! I'm only 26 and Gareth is only a year older.

Colleague 1: Blimey chief, are you really only 27?

Me: Yea

Colleague 1: I thought you were much older than that, what with the grey hair and all.

Me: Yea I've had a hard life. 'I had a heavy paper round when I was younger!'

Colleague 2: Did you carry it on your face?

Me: Fuck you.

Letter to anonymous

It can be very difficult sometimes to realise that even though you are the centre of your own world, and you may even be centre of someone elses world, that you are not the centre of everyones world. That even though you occupy some lofty position in the workplace, to your friends and loved ones, you are just you, the spotty teenager they knew, all grown up.

And sometimes you don't have any great power when you're at work and it's difficult to remember that you are held in great esteem at home, your confidence takes a few knocks professionally and suddenly you can't make decisions because you doubt yourself. Someone makes a sarcastic comment in the pub about your status in the office that raises a meagre laugh, and you're in tears in the loo.

It's important to remember though, whether you are the office dogsbody, the Grand Poobah, or somewhere in between, that your place in the universe is valued beyond measure.

And I love you.

Email

Him:
Forget anything?

Me:
My phone, I realised as I was driving past the Sutton turn off of the M42, by which time it was too late to go back. I'll have to ring the house this evening from the hotel to talk to you but could you email me your mobile number just in case because I don't know it off by heart.

Him:
I know your mobile number off by heart, does that mean I love you more and Sunderland are playing Newcastle on Sunday.

Me:
So? don't understand why you just told me that....

Him:
Because it's at 1.30 and if I have to pick you up on Sunday then I'll miss it. However, I will of course pick you up if so wish.

Me:
I see what you're doing, 'I'll miss it if I have to pick you up but if you insist on making me miss it then I suppose I'll have to...' what you should add on the end of that is 'and I'll be in a horrible mood for the whole entire week afterwards...'

Him:
No I won't, I will be in the best mood ever.

Me:
Lies, all lies... What would you rather do

a) Stay up in York with your mates and watch Sunderland v. Newcastle

b) Came home, bring me my car back, take me home and ravage me.

Him:
I see what your doing there Davis and I refuse to play your games.

Me:
You choose A by default ad therefore I no longer wish to go out with you

Him:
Okay then, well I'm keeping the blinds.

Me:
well I'm sure you and the blinds will be very happy at your mothers.

Marilyn Manson

I bought the Best Of album the other day, I don't know what I was execting but sometimes I am just in the mood for a man dressed in drag with black lipstick and fake blood dripping down his chin to shout obscenities at me while I drive.

It is so gay.

Seriously, if white, middle class americans who voted for Bush really think that he has influence over their children, then they should be far more worried that their kids are going to discover a penchant for a bit of bum than shooting up their school.

He does so love his 80's British electro pop.

Last night

I got in from work at 6.30, I made dinner, ate dinner, that finished at about 7.30, went upstairs, washed and dried my hair, packed bag for two days away, that took me until 8.30, update blog and sort expenses and now it's 9.00. Checked work email, answered anything important took me until 9.30. Went down to talk to Glenn who by this time was wondering what on earth I was doing, watched a bit of TV and at 10.00pm went to bed because I had to be up at 5.00am this morning.

So tell me, where do people with children get the time to do anything? How do these children got clothed and fed and cleaned? And if the people who have the children have time to feed and dress and clean them, then where do they get the time to earn the money to do any of those things?

It struck me last night that even if my Dr could give me a cast iron guarantee that everything is working now and I could have kids (and this is the same Dr who told me back in March that I have to have them in the next two years or else) then I don't have the time or the money to have them.

It is demanding being a grown up.

Update

Apparently, we saw Brad Oscar in the role of Max Bialystock.

And very good he was too.

Not Random Photo

Glenn and I spent the Valentines Day weekend in London this year. He organised the hotel room and I got tickets to see 'The Producers' with Lee Evans.

I booked the tickets in November and when I did, the lady at the box office said, 'if you want to come and see the show in a couple of weeks, there are cancellations for a preformance featuring Nathan Lane and Lee Evans'. I told her that I was sorry but I didn't know who Nathan Lane was and that seeing the show Valentines Day weekend was more important, she said it was the first time she'd heard of anyone not caring about seeing the show with this Nathan Lane person in it since the show opened and laughed.

So I booked the tickets but couldn't help but wonder who Nathan Lane was, why I apparently should have been desperate to see him and why the name was strangely familiar.....

So I looked him up on imdb.com and it turns out that Nathan Lane...

'Won two Tony Awards as Best Actor (Musical): in 1996 for playing Pseudolus in a revival of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum;" and in 2001 for playing Max Bialystock in "The Producers, the new Mel Brooks musical." He was also nominated in the same category in 1992 for playing Nathan Detroit in a revival of "Guys and Dolls."

...and that he has just completed the film version starring Uma Thurman.

I don't know who the hell played Max Bialystock when we saw it.

I suppose it was nice seeing it on Valentines Day.

Anyway, thought this was a nice photo. It was a beautiful day when we went on the eye. The weekend around Valentines is the busiest day of the year for it and they tried to get rid of people by saying there was a 3 hour wait but we were on it within half an hour.

This is my punishment for the unnecessary underwear purchase last week

How humiliated would you be if you walked across a very busy office only for someone to approach you moments later to tell you the hem on the bum of yourtrousers was undone and everyone had just seen your knickers? I mean, luckily your knickers match your bra which matches your shirt because you are obsessive compulsive, so it was a very co-ordinated HUMILIATION.

But really, how humiliated would you be?

An appeal....

I need to take up some kind of sport. Hopefully two kinds of sport really, to relieve the monotony. Now the weather is getting a bit rubbish, my already non existent motivation needs something to up the ante so I am appealing for someone, anyone, of my lovely, wonderful and helpful friends to recommend some way for me to do it.

Now this has to be cheap, and I have to keep it up. It's not specifically a weight loss thing (although that would be nice), it's also a fitness thing, I'm 24 for gods sake and I get out of breath running up the stairs. Having never done any exercise willingly in my life before and not being able to afford gym membership, I need something which I can do in or near my house, that I can also do while I'm away from home and that I will be able to keep up long after the novelty has worn off.

Does anyone want to be my personal trainer? You'll get your rewards in heaven....!

But seriously, cheap and easy suggestions please, and no smart arse comments about sex. I already know that one......

Two reasons why I am a genius...

Reason Number One;

I just cooked a roast chicken, with roast potatoes, stuffing, steamed carrots and brocolli, and gravy. Truly, I am your dream girlfriend.

Reason Number Two;

Check out the above - I did it! Technology will not phase me!

(with a little help from my friends.....)

Here Goes... Random photo #2

Can someone PLEASE tell me how to turn the flippin' thing round so you don't have to turn your head in some unnatural, gravity defying twist?

This is me and Nic, I met Nic at uni and she is also the daughter of my boss, the Big Boss, the Boss of my Boss's Boss, the CEO, the Grand Poobah, his Royal Exhaultedness. When I met him, it was at Nic's birthday about three years ago. Nic, myself and another pretty lady called Jane were reminiscing about back in the day when we were wild and free and His Grand Majesty was asking what we were talking about. He was not actually my boss at this point and I had no idea he ever would be so I said 'we're talking about when Chris and Ian used to do the woman', what's the woman? he asked, at this point Nic kicked me under the table, you know, like thay do in the films. I looked at her and she had this pleasedon'tpleasedon'tpleasedon't look on her face. I did anyway because frankly, I'm not that good with other peoples parents, I tend not to care too much.

This was a mistake.

So I explained that while living in the Halls of Residence (Thwaite Hall, it was so beautiful, it had botanical gardens and a lake, yes, a lake.) two lads called Chris and Ian used to wait until about 1 or 2am and then torture the first person who had gone to bed that evening by banging on their bedroom door until the poor sod was forced awake and had to open it to make the banging go away. When they opened the door, not only were Chris and Ian nekkid, but they had tucked their genitals in between their thighs and as far back as was possible without cutting off any blood supply to anything essential, so that they looked like.... a woman. Now, this is funny to the person looking at them doing it when that person awake and aware, but it was just hysterical if you were looking at the person who had just been woken up and could not for the life of them understand how it was possible.

So I explain this to The Lord On High and Nic is slowly sinking further and further into her chair, and at the end he sort of smiles a little bit and then excuses himself. Well screw it I think, he wanted to know, so I told him, oh how we laughed.

(later that evening, at a club in Sheffield, a drunk girl having a row with her boyfriend at the top of some stairs, threw an entire pint of cider over Jane and I who were standing underneath aforementioned stairs, I like to think of this as the Universe's (comma?) way of saying 'oh foolish, foolish girl... SHUT UP!)

So now it's three years later and I CAN'T BELIEVE I DID THAT. Everyone at the company is in awe of him, very intimidated by him and there was me, shouting my mouth off about the woman.

The Woman.

Everytime I think about it, I just want to die.

(however, it was the next day that I had the phone call inviting me for the interview for my currernt position, a job I hadn't actually applied for, so maybe that's how you get jobs, just humiliate yourself to the nth degree and let it happen.....)

Incidently, the dress I am wearing in the above picture was bought 20 minutes before I had to be at the champagne reception that evening, after weeks and weeks of looking. Nic said it was not sophisticated enough when I tried it on and that's pretty much the reason I bought it. I am nothing if not argumentative.

Email

Me - Watcha doin'?

Him - work, you?

Me - So snappy..... don't think I appreciate your tone. If you're busy, don't reply, I've always found that to be a better solution than rudeness.

Him - wasn't being rude just asked a question me love.

Me - You asked a pointed question designed to imply that I was not working and that you were too busy to communicate, which failed on two counts - 1. Clearly you are not too busy to communicate because you did, in fact, reply and 2. I am working thankyouverymuch.

Screw you hippy, I am multi tasking.

Him - Hippy?

Me - Yes, hippy. You, with your flared cords, are the closest we have in these troubled times, to a hippy.

Him - Is it my long hair?

Me - Yes baby, it's your flowing locks.

Him - you'd better believe it.

This is nothing to do with any crappy Beautiful South song.

My parents always said that whatever you do, however hard you try, there is always room for improvement. The most they ever scored me was 9/10.

I don't like to blame my parents for my possibly-in-need-of-therapy psychosis, and I am well aware that there are plenty of people who grew up being scored much, much lower than a 9. I had and continue to have, two of the best parents anyone could ask for. I also think there's a time in everyone's life when you have to reponsibility for yourself, claim your mistakes as your own and lay to rest the hang ups that were passed on to you by those in charge of your up bringing.

Sometimes I feel like I am being suffocated by a crushing weight of inadequacy and every so often, I do wish I could feel what it might be like to be a perfect 10.

Especially for the man who likes the little people...

From the Wall Street Journal;

"Some people are just into lavish dwarf entertainment," says the 4-foot-2 Danny Black, a part-owner in Shortdwarf.com, an outfit that rents dwarfs for parties starting at $149 an hour. Mr. Black says he spent part of [a March 2003] weekend on the yacht and worked as a waiter on the Friday night at a high-end Miami eatery alongside what he called "regular size" people. "A good time was had by all," he said, declining to provide further details."

Knicker addiction

Just popped across the road into Sainsbury's to get some change for the parking metre, so the Parking Triads of Bolton don't get me, and I came out with two shiny pound coins and £32 worth of underwear.

What is wrong with me?

A post whereby Ant will bemoan my abuse of The Humble Comma

My chap has the most beautiful eyes of any human being I have ever encountered. This is the truth, he has the kind of eyes that you can't ever lie to, the kind that seem to permeate your soul if you gaze into them for too long. The kind that show you he's a good man, the best kind of man, a man with integrity. They are honest eyes, bold eyes, eyes that seem to want you to tell him everything that you ever thought about, or dreamt about or cried about. His eyes are what sealed the deal, not the moving in together deal, I'm not such a daft woman that I would commit my life to a person because of pretty eyes, but they sealed the whole falling in love with him deal, I knew something was happening that was significant from our second date (Oh Lord not the first date, no no no, that was a BAD date) and then he looked at me with these big......

And that is the problem I have today.

Can't for the life of me remember what fucking colour they are.

I mean, I think they're blue, I'm sure they're blue..... but are they...? I mean you can have blonde people with brown eyes right? And who's to say that even if they're blue they're not a kind of grey....

Oh shit, I'm going to be in so much trouble for this........

Uncle Bodus - Not some pervy welsh uncle...

... Just a typo. Should say Uncle Bogus now.

(Who, by the way, is Ant - may he feel shame for the murder of my CV, which I will mourn forever.)

Random Photo #1

God, how fucking awful.

Glenn probably took this one.

It's Prague by the way, not that you can tell because of the large expanse of pavement and random tourist that take up most of the foreground. I've been looking for either me or him standing somewhere in it because that might explain the weird 'look at this picture of bugger all' context of the photo, but no, just an awful lot of strangers.

The only good thing about this photo is that you can see just how high up the castle is compared to the rest of the city, you'd think I'd be proud of that because it would mean I had made something of a physical accomplishment, but no, we took the bus.

Rolling the photo dice....

... I recently loaded all the photo's from my digital camera onto my laptop (am STILL without a proper PC). Unfortunately when I did this I failed to categorise any of the photo's, so they're all sitting in a file and I can't easily find the ones I want to put on this here blogamathingy because they just have numbers on them rather than names.

How to turn this from tragedy to triumph. Moch would say I should just sit and sort them out, different files, names etc, however, that would be sensible, logical, and proper... and since when have I ever been that?! So I'm just going to pick ones at random, roll the photo dice and see what comes out, I promise that I will not change whichever one turns up however poor the quality or composition.....

(And here's hoping that one of my lying on the hotel room bed nekkid stays well hidden)

By the way...

Working in Bolton (brew? anyone fu't brew?) today, and I can't look at spanair.blogspot because it is a banned site, it contains 'lewd and inappropriate content'....

The other week I was reading an interview with the Great and Marvellous Heather Armstrong and she said that if you're going to write a blog, then you have to draw a line somewhere, there have to be things you don't write about. She said if you were having trouble deciding where that line should go then a good tip is to imagining the one person in the world who you would not want to read your blog finding it and reading it. The stuff you wouldn't ever want them to know is where you draw the line, either that or you have to be completely anonymous. There's already a couple of posts I have written but never published and the other day Glenn looked over my shoulder and read what I was about to publish and BANNED me from letting it see the light of day.

In the light of Bolton's opinion of my website, I should probably draw the line a bit clearer.

What Uncle Bogus said about my CV

From a brief read of the CV, I'd deduce the following about Hannah: -

She has confidence problems.
She rarely talks about her own achievements:

- She does not go into detail about her academic qualifications;
- She describes her professional work in terms of teams, not in terms of her own merits and her own contribution to the teams.
- She claims to be a competent user of Office, but relies on Word templates.
- She has SQL experience, but does not hype this up (do you have *any* idea how valuable this is? For example, a qualified accountant with good SQL skills can earn £30K more than an accountant without SQL - I've looked through the job listings at Hot Lizard). So, what level of SQL experience does she have? Is this something she's vaguely heard about and just added it in as a buzzword? This is not clear.
- She has issues with clear communication skills
- if I gave her an interview, I'd dearly love to know why her CV doesn't remotely describe her skills and experience accurately
- she's much better than she's letting on.

In fact, this doesn't really tell me much about Hannah at all. It tells me about the companies she's worked for and the teams she's worked in, but what about her? She claims to have Office experience but the layout of this document belies that; plus, everyone has Office experience these days. She has excellent communication skills; this is backed up by a degree in English from a good university, but what grade did she get? Practiced in consultancy? Her employment history should give solid examples of this (albeit in bullet-point form; just a brief mention of it in a single bullet point about *her*, not her team, would back up this statement). Experienced team leader - again, no mention of this in her employment history! SQL? Where has she used this? Why? Flexibility with different working environments - no mention of this *again*! She needs to explicitly state that she has travelled around the country to dozens of colleges, working with their teams and doing whatever it is she does - this demonstrates teamwork, communication skills, commitment (you'd have to be committed to stay away from home so much), etc.

If she could get to an interview, I don't think she's have any trouble at all getting the job that she wants - she's talkative, intelligent, has plenty of experience and is beautiful (which is always a bonus). Based on this CV, though, I wouldn't give her that opportunity, because it just doesn't tell me anything about her.

Greatest Answer Phone Message Ever

Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Xxx, Xxx and Xxx; we can't come to the phone right now, but if you'd like to leave a message, then provided we like you, we'll ring you back. If you are one of those tele-sales people, we hope you get a skin disease, nothing fatal, just something that makes you itch.

Soundtrack of my life - Album 1

I was going to do one of those soundtracks to my life thing and I thought, well how would I go about remembering all the albums and tracks that have followed me thus far? So I thought I would work my way through all my CD's and talk about what they meant to me, where I was when I first heard it, why it's special, and then I thought well christ, that'll just take forever, and as I am lazy and have a short attention span, I couldn't be bothered.

So instead, I though I could do it slowly, have a kind of album of the week thing, and that way only have to write a few lines every so often and that won't bore the pants off me or you.

So, to that end;

Name - SMILE
Artist - Various

Track listing;

Friendship test - Tenacious D
Friendship - Tenacious D
Cheer Up - Reel Big Fish
King For A Day - Green Day
Worst Hangover Ever - The Offspring
You Got A Problem - Fun Lovin' Criminals
Mr. Brownstone - Guns 'n' Roses
Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden
Walkin' On The Sun - Smash Mouth
Little Sister - Queens of The Stone Age
Breakout - Foo Fighters
On Mercury - Red hot Chili Peppers
Sissyneck - Beck
Place Your Hands - Reef
Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone - Gomez
Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks
Ding Dong - Stateside Hombres
I'm Money - Zebrahead
Fat Lip - Sum 41
Razz - Kings Of Leon
You're Speaking My Language - Juliette and The Licks
Rush Hour Soul - Supergrass

Standout Tracks and Why;

Friendship Test/Friendship - Tenacious D
Why? Because it is PISS funny.

Worst Hangover Ever - The Offspring
Why? Because it's how I felt 5 mornings out of 7 all through my 3rd year at uni.

Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden
Why? This is one of my favourite songs in the world and every time I hear it I'm 14 again and I can smell incense. This was during my miserable (and by and large, failed) attempt to be grunge, I bought the boots, the long skirts and XL black T.Shirts, I had black lipstick and Courtney Love was my hero (still is, I love that woman - 'I'm pregnant with Alan Partridges' baby, no I'm not, yes I am, no I'm not, yes I, hang on a minute, who am I? Where am I? Someone pass me a pill....'). My problem was that having been brought up by parents who cared very much that I look respectable, tidy and CLEAN, I just couldn't bring myself to leave the house like that. I used to get so far as the front door and then turn around and get changed again. My mother used to look at me and mumble something about 'why can't she like Chris De Burgh like normal people...?', and my father thought I was the funniest looking person he'd ever seen. Being the surprisingly tolerant people my folks are though, they never asked me to change or take the make up off, they just assumed I would grow out of it, and I did (they did however scream 'TURN THAT RUBBISH DOWN!' from the bottom of the stairs regularly). It still left me with what has so far been a life long love of american punk rock though, and although grunge did die with Kurt Cobain (to be replaced by the cleaner, less hardcore and utterly inferior 'goth') it will always have a place in my heart. And this is a fucking awesome track.

Little Sister - Queens of The Stone Age
Why? No reason in particular, it's quite new so has no memory attached, I just think it rocks.

Place Your Hands - Reef
Why? Every student/festival regular in the country knows why, cheesy nights out, waving your hands in the air and feeling queasy because those dodgy, violently coloured shots which you knew were a bad idea, are just starting to think about re-appearing.......

Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone - Gomez
Why? The only man I've ever been able to have a relationship with and stay friends with after it all went wrong, bought me this album when I was 19. We used to lie in bed in my room in halls all morning and listen to it on repeat. You know when people say youth is wasted on the young (well The Smashing Pumpkins said it) and that young people don't value what they have because they can't comprehend how hard life can get? I don't believe that, I think it's all relative, I think some 17 year old breaking her heart because her boyfriend dumped her has just as much of a reason to be sad as some 27 year old, youth means nothing, pain is pain is pain. The point is that this song, and the album it's from, takes me right back there, squashed in a single bed with the sounds of students crashing down the hall and a wonderful man who was too old for me talking about the importance of a good bass line, when life was a lot simpler, but I knew that even then, and I cherished every moment.

NB - Reading that paragraph back, I don't think it makes very much sense, but sometimes my mind rambles off.

You're Speaking My Language - Juliette and The Licks
Why? This CD was a mix tape (I know it was a CD, but in the spirit of Hgh Fidelity, these things are always mix tapes) made for me by Liz, who I think, like most of my friends, is worried that I am staying away too much, driving too much, working too late, and am generally unhappy. So she made me this CD and it's called 'Smile - For In Car Use On Long And Boring Journeys - And When You Just Need Cheering Up'. I put it in my car on Sunday afternoon, have had it on repeat ever since, and it does exactly what it says on the tin. She put this song on it because I've been banging on about wanting to know what this band sounds like for just long enough for her to be really annoyed and need for me to SHUT UP. Anyway, I love it, it's very Hole-esque (circa 1992), which is exactly what you need in that moment when the traffic jam eases and you can put your foot down again. I can tell you that on the M6 those moments are few and far between and deserve to be celebrated.

Regarding the photo

I realised last night that I posted a picture that was composed, at least 50%, of my face and called it 'my favourite picture in the whole world'. Now normally, when I write on this here blog thing, I couldn't give a stuff what any of you people (all 8 of you) think what I write says about me, but in this case I felt I needed to point out that it is not the large image of my strangely out of proportion face that makes it my favourite picture in the whole world.

No.

What makes it my favourite picture in the whole world is that it shows me and my favourite person in the whole world, having a moment that was captured on camera as I tried to take stupid photo's of us being daft one night before we went to sleep. I just think he looks so peaceful and I look happy and that is why it's my favourite picture in the whole world, because it shows the best side of us.

About 10 minutes ago...

He walks into the bathroom, stands nekkid and shouts 'Holy Shit! Come and look at this!', I am sceptical but I go and have a look, he points at an enormous spider in the bath and says 'it's huge isn't it?'

I say 'Jesus, it's huge, please get rid of it',

'Ok,' he says, 'but have you seen the spider?'.

My Favourite Picture In The Whole World

Saturday night's alright for fighting

I embarassed myself this weekend.

I was a BAD drunk.

I'm not normally the bad drunk, I leave that to other people, I tend to just sit back and watch the car crash and normally, normally, I can keep a certain amount of control.

However, last night, apparently I didn't do that....

Indeed, I was the car crash.

Exhibit A - I bit Glenn, and not in a good way, no, no, he pissed me off so I grabbed his arm and bit him.

Quite badly.

Exhibit B - Gareth is a lovely bloke, and he has more or less the same sense of humour as me, but that means that when something is there to take the piss out of, he takes no prisoners. Now given that I, as I have already said, have the same sense of humour, this normally makes for a riotous evening...

Not last night though.

No, last night, I decided to get horribly offended, I had to be taken outside for a walk and a cigarette to try and calm down.

And I don't actually smoke.

I fear I have lessened myself in the face of lovely people, people who did not deserve to have their evening gatecrashed by some weird, mean and curiously violent drunk.

I can only apologise.

Glenn and I are under negotiations to try and work through his discovery of a piss head girlfriend who bit him (I mean, seriously, who the fuck was I?) he is laying a previous incident on the table that I have to let go of and if I never mention it again then he will let last night go (current favourite is either me finding the porn he downloaded on my company laptop, or the fact that I am obsessed with his ex-girlfriend - and not in a good way).

Liz and Gareth are probably at home wondering how they can get out of ever seeing me again (I mean, actually they're probably doing something that isn't about me at all, what with everybody's world not revolving around me and all) but at some point they will have to see me, and even if it's for a small moment, they will look at each other and acknowledge that they are both thinking 'but she bit him... and quite hard...' and I don't blame them... I would probably wonder if it was safe to be alone with me, teeth, and a bottle of Kronenberg Blanco as well.

I've been in a funny place all afternoon, the kind of place where you know that what you really need is a good cry. I have been wondering why I feel like this and I think I can pin it down to, ooh, all of the above? I am so embarrased, ashamed, mortified, my mother would disown me if she ever found out, and as I judge all my behaviour towards others as 'would my mother approve?' that is pretty damning...

I might actually have to move.

To Bavaria.

Other Email

Her - sound advice though - you can sleep in the post orgasmic glow then (bestkind of sleep) and orgasms burn calories - BONUS!!! xxxx

Me - Yay! Exercise CAN be fun!

Email

Him - I just posted a comment.

Me - Are you the one encouraging a bitch fight?

Him - Me? I would never do a thing like that.....

Me - Fucker

Him - With language like that it's no surprise to me that you're about to have a bitch fight with one of your oldest friends. Shame on you Davis.

Me - Bigger Fucker

It's the variety that makes it so very special.

Compare and contrast the following advise I was given today -

Person 1

Step 1: Walk out of the office and locate nearest vending machine.(Important - correct equipment - change us necessary) Step 2: select, from the vending machine, at least 2 very chocolatey items. Step3: Whilst walking back to office, consume first chocolatey item in full. Step 4: Log back into computer. Breathe deeply IN THROUGH THE NOSE filling yourself with air like when you sing (bell out!) Repeat a mantra outloud. Try. "I am calm, Confident, Happy and at ease" before exhaling completely; so that your whole body goes limp. That's good... Great job :) Step 5: Scoff other chocolatey item before 5pm.

Person 2

go back to your hotel, eat m&m's, drink wine and have a wank. sorted.

And I love both of these people more than words can say.

Must Control Inner Rage

I have just realised there have been two very angry posts recently, I think I can pin this down to the lack of new shoes there has been recently because honestly, work is no worse than usual.

The rambling thoughts of a register generator

Number One - When picking the school of choice for your precious child, ignore league tables, assessment results, exam grades etc etc - Instead do this - Go into the office of your shortlisted educational establishments, ask the finance office which member of administrative staff s/he trusts to provide the statistical data from their registers, then go to this person and ask them this - Can the teaching staff at that school/college/university/playgroup fill in a register? Do they provide the right codes? Can they remember to SIGN it? How many post it notes do they use on average per day providing gentle reminders on how to fill in what is basically a Q&A? If at any point during this conversation the administrative staff say anything like the following; 'well, as teaching staff they think they have more important things to do than worry about this', then RUN AWAY, THIS IS NOT THE SCHOOL FOR YOUR CHILD.

Number Two - If the administrative staff of any educational establishment do not get the information they need then they cannot record it correctly, if they don't record it correctly, the establishments statistics will be incorrect, if they are incorrect, then targets will not be achieved, if targets are not achieved then funding is lost and do not underestimate that every single target will affect your funding in some way, if the funding goes down, standards go down, if standards go down, students will not attend and once the student numbers go down funding falls further and then cuts will be made and those cuts will be first and foremost the teaching staff because there will already be a skeletal administrative staff. DO THE FUCKING MATHS PEOPLE, we're all in it together, so FILL IT IN PROPERLY.

Number Three - Why must people smoke next to open windows?

Number Four - Think I might get highlights...

Number Five - mmmmmm....... Christian Bale......

Number Five - OHMYGODHOWHARDISITTOFILLINTHESTARTANDENDTIMESOFACLASS?

Number Five - aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand prozac.

Waiting...

... for you... to justify my love.

Realising...

... that the entire festival could be organised for me, and my tent could be four star and I'd still moan about having to camp.

Wanting...

... to go to a festival next year, I am 25 in March 06 so it's time I went back to my roots, regressed a little bit, rebelled againt the corporate stooges who decide what happens in my life most days. I'm going to go away, camp, not moan about having to camp, I will not shower or wash my hair and I will not take my mobile phone.

Loving...

... Christan Bale... mmmmmmmmmmm.....

Deciding...

... not to worry so much about things I can't change, they are what they are.

Regretting...

...not having sex in the library when I was at uni when I had the chance (Ros did, and I was so shocked! Daft little prude that I was).

Marvelling...

... at how I got a degree in English Literature without being able to use The Humble Comma correctly.

Wondering...

... what was wrong with the name Opal Fruits?

Thinking...

... about taking up running, or some form of cardio exercise, because even though I tried to use sex as a substitute for the gym membership I cancelled, and even though it is indeed more fun than running in the rain or swimming in suspiciously smelling public pools, it is not getting rid of the excess weight that has spent the last 5 years creeping up on me. I bloody knew deciding to eat food again was going to come back to haunt me.

must stop....

.... eating peanut M&M's. No good can come from it.

Ezzat El Barbary

Apparently he called Moch the other day to ask if I was aware that I had put my name on a post. My actual real name. So I thought I'd put his name on a post to freak him out.

Boo!

Memo

Going to have a rant now.

Someone said to me the other week that there are two kinds of thinkers - problem thinkers and solution thinkers, problem thinkers just tell you over and over again about why something is impossible and will decide that there is NO solution and therefore spend all the time they are supposed to be creating a solution just thinking about all the reasons why the solution just won't work. Solution thinkers will realise there is a problem and sort it out, and anyone who works with them might not even know at times that there was a problem because it will be sorted before they know it.

So I would like to just take a moment to talk to the people who are problem thinkers. this is because I am currently working with a whole organisation full of you and I can't actually tell you any of this to your face, I have to be nice and polite and listen to your concerns as if I actually care. What I would really like to say is WHY CAN'T YOU PEOPLE JUST GET ON WITH YOUR FUCKING JOBS, you get paid to do something, ok? You come to work when you're supposed to, you leave when you're supposed to, you never give anyone one second more of your time than is absolutely necessary (I don't know why, perhaps your time is more important than mine, ARE YOU THE PEOPLE CUTTING ME UP AT ROUNDABOUTS IN YOUR VIBRANTLY COLOURED YET TASTELESS CARS?) and yet you still find that, rather than get on with the job, you have to bitch and moan about why X isn't going to work, why Y is an 'unreasonable expectation', and why Z is the stupidest idea you ever heard in your long and enviable career as a DATA FUCKING INPUTTER. You do what? 7 hours a day? Please, just do what you're asked to do and then go home. I don't understand why this is a problem, you shirk any real responsibility and yet behave as if should you carry out this instruction and the whole process fails, it will be your fault, it really won't be, it will be the person who devised the processes fault, and as long as you can say 'I tried my best' it will never come back on you. So please! Just bloody do it! And whatever you do, don't send emails to people exclaiming that I 'do not appreciate the problem' because firstly, I do appreciate the problem, THE PROBLEM IS WHY I'M HERE, and secondly, the email will eventually end up as part of a stream of emails and I will be copied in on one of them and I will read down and see your obnoxious, self-righteous comments and we can't ever be friends.

Small message to all the solution thinkers - I love you, will you come back to my house and live with me forever?

And this is the eye, quite proud of this photo - note the juxtaposition of new and old....... (ha ha! like I know what I'm talking about!)

Here he is.

Just read this...

...Blogging is like sex. When you're not getting nearly enough of it you ache to do it and think about it all the time. But when it's flowing freely and you've been at it for a while, it can get a little stale.

Hmmmm, something to think about...

Word Verification

It's annoyed me but I've had to turn it on, I don't want my comments facility filled up with rubbish, just type what you see in the box underneath if you want to comment and that saves us all from having to put up with bollocks adverts (although if anyone wanted to post an advert for actual bollocks then I might let that stay).

On behalf of 2 million women.....

..... Please go here -

http://www.ethical-business.com/default.asp?sect=detail&pet=1953

and sign this petition.

When I formally diagnosed in May 2004, after a laparoscopy, I was amazed when I realised the number of women this disease affects. I really want to impress the point of the following paragraph on you -

'A recent survey undertaken by the Endometriosis All Party Parliamentary Group shows that the average time to make a correct endometriosis diagnosis is still increasing, taking on average 8 years from the first time they see their GP about their symptoms. 68% of women were originally told they had another condition prior to correct diagnosis.'

Yet there is no National Endo Week (however crass that sounds), there is no awareness campaign, no one ever goes on GMTV and talks about their 'struggle' with it. When the first consultant I saw mentioned the word to me I had to look it up on the internet to get information because I had never even heard of it. It never even crossed the minds of all 6 GP's I saw before I was FINALLY referred, I am also part of the 68% and was sent away with all kinds of antibiotics over a period of 7 months.

On the up side of it all though, you get to see some really fucking gruesome photographs of your insides when they show you what the laparoscopy found. I bet not many people can say that they woke up one afternoon to find a Consultant Gynaecologist waving photographs at them and saying 'this is your womb... and this is what we found behind it when we moved your womb out of the way....' Oh really! You moved it out of the way! WELL DID YOU PUT IT BACK?!

Filled this in yesterday

Welcome to the new edition of getting to know your friends. Okay, here's
what you're supposed to do, and try not to be lame and spoil the fun!
Just copy (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste into a new e-mail that
you can send. Change all the answers so that they apply to you.
Then send this to a whole bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person
that sent it to you. Some of you may get this several times that means you
have lots of friends. (If no one sends it back, it IS NOT A REFLECTION ON
YOU! People are busy!)

1. What is your occupation? Business Consulatant
2. Toilet Paper Roll, Over or Under? under
3. What are you listening to right now? The printer and the annoying woman who never shuts up, SHUT UP ANNOYING WOMAN!
4. What was the last thing you ate? apple
5. Do you wish on stars? no
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? red
7. How is the weather right now? really hot, blue skies and sunny
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Senior Consultant, Freida Butterfield (and isn't that one of the best names you ever heard?)
9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Yes I have rainforests of love for her
10. How old are you today? 24
11. Favourite drink? Champagne, got through three bottles a few weeks ago
12. Favourite sport to watch? tennis
13. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes, I had blonde streaks when I was at uni, but I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind, the pain runs deep.
14. Do you wear contacts or glasses? glasses for driving
15. Pets? no
16. Favourite month? august
17. Favourite food? mango
18. What was the last movie you watched? The 40 Year old virgin, don't judge me it was REALLY funny
19. Favourite day of the year? Christmas eve
20. What do you do to vent anger? throw things. at people.
21. Autumn or spring? Autumn
23. Cherry or Blueberry? blueberry
24. Do you want your friends to email you back? always
25. Who is most likely to respond? Liz
26. Who is least likely to respond? Tom, he checks his email once a year and he's already done it this year.
27. Who do you live with? a big gay bear
28. When was the last time you cried? Sunday night when I left home for another week
29. What is on the floor of your closet? clothes I still have not sorted despite moving into my house weeks ago!
30. What did you do last night? worked until 6, checked into the hotel, slept.
31. Favourite smell? freshly baked bread, reminds me of my mother (not that she eats bread, but she likes the smell.
32. What are you afraid of? being alone
33. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? spicy
34. Favourite car? maserati spider
35. Favourite dog breed? afraid of dogs, cannot allow myself to love one
36. Number of keys on your key ring? 8, and I can't believe I just counted them.
37. How many years at your current job? 2yrs, 6months
38. Favourite day of the week? saturday, no work and no prospect of work the next day, it's like a little holiday all on its own
39. How many Counties have you lived in? 3
40. How many cities have you lived in? 3



Thanks for taking the time to pass this on!

He said yes!

Hannah

God!? OK, but on the basis that I get a postcard. Agreed? Have fun wherever you might be.

Xxx

If you were my boss, would you let me go?

Hi Xxx,

I know the deployment is done all the way up to then end of October but I have just been given the opportunity to go on holiday during the half term week in October and I would really like to go..... That's the 24th to the 28th October, 5 days, please can I go, please, please, please.....? The deployment schedule said South Shields and Bolton and I know that I do not play an essential role at Bolton and Xxxxxx should be in STC by then.......?

Up to you, obviously, but I'm sure God would like it if you were to let me go.

Hannah

Love is all you need

I'm finding day to day life quite difficult at the moment, work has exploded, it has gone insane, I feel like any control I had on the reigns has been lost and the horse has bolted. I can't decide whether I am floundering on the grass watching it disappear into the distance or if I am bouncing around on it's back trying to get a grip, I hope it's the latter but I fear it's the former.

That said, it's weirdly exhilerating. I've taken half an hour to write this and have some lunch but other than that it's just non stop, the days are flying by and I'm learning new stuff all the time, it's the evenings on my own in the hotel WHERE THE DAMNED GO TO DIE that's the problem.

NB - Going to fgure out how to post photo's on this bloody thing and I'll post a lovely one of my concrete monolith Holiday Inn.

On Sunday I put all the photographs that have been sitting on the memory card in the camera (Canon Powershot A60) onto my laptop where they will sit until I put them onto a CD, where they will sit until I buy a PC (so sometime around 2009 then). But I had a play with the editing suite thing and managed to create oddly arty pictures, all black and white and grainy, there's one of me where I don't even look like me now, so I could well put it on here. I've just got to figure out things like airbrushing and then I could have a whole load of photo's I won't want to throw into the bin the second I look at them.

Glenn's best friend and his wife came down this weekend (his friends wife, not Glenn's wife - THAT would have been an interesting weekend!) and we played with the BBQ, went to Selfridges, trekked across town to watch the football, not in that order. Krispy Kreme has opened in Selfridges, we were asked if we wanted a free doughnut and then somehow ended up buying 12 - None of us know how this happened, but I am all doughnutted out now, don't care if I never have another one, ooh the lemon curd was nice though, yum!

This is just turning into rambling nonsense now. This always happens, I have great ideas for quite brilliant posts at, like, 3 in the morning, or in the car on the way home from work but now I'm sat here and..... bollocks.

News from the front line

I have been sent reinforcements! I will survive!