Am I the only singleton left in the world...? Have all the single people died out from lonliness and lack of sexual motivation...? I've come to the conclusion that there are most definitely no decent single men left. They've all been snapped up by one bitch..sorry, woman, or another. I'm sure that life keeps throwing me in the direction of married men in order to test my decency and willpower. Either that or it just likes to torture me. Every time I spot a nice looking guy the conversation with my friend or colleague goes like this;
Me - "Oooo he's nice"!
Her - "Married"
Me - "Fuck"!
One day I'll be stunned when the answer is; "Oh yes he's single". But it'll inevitably be followed by; "But he's a total wanker". Of course he is.
To be fair, I haven't actually been that bothered about starting another relationship just yet. I haven't attempted speed-dating or scouring dating websites for the next boyfriend/axe murderer. I'm in no hurry to be messed about/cheated on/lied to, etc. It is starting to bug me though, how every nice bloke I meet is married. Some of these blokes seem perfect for me. It's just not fair. But then I guess their wives wouldn't see it that way. Finding a single man is kind of similar to when Vivienne Westwood has a 70% sale on shoes; snap them up before they're gone! Blink....and you miss them. In my case it's like when Asda pile a load of almost-past-sell-date food on the "whoops" shelf - by the time I get there all the good stuff is gone and I'm left with the crap nobody wants.
I feel like I'm in a race. A race for women only. A race for women who're hoping for a cure for broken heart. A Race For Wife.
Get to that man and get a ring on your finger if it's the last thing you do! And make sure you run pretty damn fast, because there are plenty more women racing right behind you to beat you to it. I know these things can't be rushed - rushing into relationships mostly ends in tears. But it seems I've missed the boat many times over and I think the blame lies on me for staying with douchebags a lot longer than I should've.
So maybe I'll join the Race For Wife too, only at a slightly more gentle pace. Good thing too, I run like a dork.
Saturday 28 April 2012
Monday 23 April 2012
Another door closes....but she's too drunk to open the next one
I am reaching the end of my contract here at this temporary Beccles position and will shortly be back in my "hmmm, what to do with my life" period. I do so despise having to think too much. I've applied to a few acting companies, although there are only two in Norfolk/Suffolk (no huge surprise there, ever heard of that fabulous Hollywood great from Lowestoft...? No, me neither). So now I'm back to pondering over whether I should move to London or not. Well, there isn't much to ponder - of course I should move back to London. But the expense is something I'm not sure I can handle right now. I guess I'll have to get my thinking cap on. *sigh*.
Until then, I shall be looking forward to my leaving drinks on Friday. I work for a company consisting mainly of men, so it should be an interesting night. Not that there are any young, free and single blokes, but when I've had a few drinks I tend to lose a lot of my dignity (yes I know it must be hard to believe...). Over the years I have developed a lot of lady-like qualities and I no longer find enjoyment in burping competitions or slipping laxatives into people's tea just for a laugh (oh ok, maybe sometimes it is quite amusing). But after a few drinks and my initial tendency to speak a bit posher (I've no idea why this happens, alcohol is a funny thing) I then change into the happy, bubbly, laugh-a-minute girl I used to be. My London accent gets stronger without me even realising it, although to be fair - a bit of Essex rears it ugly head after a couple of sherbets, which is never a good thing!
My main concern is that I leave on a high and everybody remembers me for being the girl who was a really good laugh. Although I have a fairly strong feeling it may just be - the girl who was a good laugh until she peaked after that last shot of tequila, puked over the barman, fell over the doorstep on the way out and cried on her Manager's lap because she's "sssssssooooooo lonely"!!!!
Maybe I'll stick to lemonade.
Until then, I shall be looking forward to my leaving drinks on Friday. I work for a company consisting mainly of men, so it should be an interesting night. Not that there are any young, free and single blokes, but when I've had a few drinks I tend to lose a lot of my dignity (yes I know it must be hard to believe...). Over the years I have developed a lot of lady-like qualities and I no longer find enjoyment in burping competitions or slipping laxatives into people's tea just for a laugh (oh ok, maybe sometimes it is quite amusing). But after a few drinks and my initial tendency to speak a bit posher (I've no idea why this happens, alcohol is a funny thing) I then change into the happy, bubbly, laugh-a-minute girl I used to be. My London accent gets stronger without me even realising it, although to be fair - a bit of Essex rears it ugly head after a couple of sherbets, which is never a good thing!
My main concern is that I leave on a high and everybody remembers me for being the girl who was a really good laugh. Although I have a fairly strong feeling it may just be - the girl who was a good laugh until she peaked after that last shot of tequila, puked over the barman, fell over the doorstep on the way out and cried on her Manager's lap because she's "sssssssooooooo lonely"!!!!
Maybe I'll stick to lemonade.
Sunday 22 April 2012
Go back to the Big Smoke
I'm adding smokers to my list of annoying people. I do have a couple of mates who smoke, but they're not selfish smokers - they go and stand outside in the cold so as not to inflict their cancer-creating smog on all the clear-lunged non-smokers. But I have had to endure being in the same building as a bunch of smokers for the last month and now I am suffering. Why do I have to suffer because of other people's selfishness...? Because I have no choice! My throat and chest feels like I've just French-kissed a dragon. When I inhale I sound like an old person with emphysema who's just been sucking on a bong for the last 6 hours. One is not impressed. My message to all you selfish smokers is this; if you wish to give yourself mouth cancer, lung cancer, liver cancer, throat cancer etc, emphysema, clogged arteries etc, that's your perogative - but stop inflicting it on people who want to live a long life!
On top of having my respiratory system strangled, I'm also suffering from what can only be described as "plucked chicken syndrome". I shall explain in as little detail as possible; my first Brazillian for a long time...ouch.....pain....redness & swelling....looks like a plucked chicken that's been spanked continuously with a wooden spoon.....have to wear cotton knickers for the next 7 days. Again: ouch.
Nuff said.
On top of having my respiratory system strangled, I'm also suffering from what can only be described as "plucked chicken syndrome". I shall explain in as little detail as possible; my first Brazillian for a long time...ouch.....pain....redness & swelling....looks like a plucked chicken that's been spanked continuously with a wooden spoon.....have to wear cotton knickers for the next 7 days. Again: ouch.
Nuff said.
Saturday 21 April 2012
She's an undedicated follower of fashion
I've been a bit crap with updating my Blogs lately haven't I?? I guess it's good that things are picking up socially, but I need to be a bit more proactive. I have decided, after much deliberation, to get myself one of those iPhoneythingmajiggies.
Nowadays, sitting at a home PC to do my social networking seems a bit carbon-dated. I feel like if I hold back any longer I'll be propelled back to 1989, or even the Stone Age. What with refusing to listen to the recent music charts and still listening to vinyl and cassettes, I'm just one step away from losing the power to speak modern day English and changing my name to Ug Ug. Opposable thumbs you say?? Never heard of such a crazy thing.....
When I admit to people I don't have an iPhone yet they look at me like I've just admitted to enjoying sex with animals. Even my friends have started to shun me as not being part of their "iGang". It's amazing what these iContraptions can do. I'll be on a night out with my mates and no sooner has somebody taken my picture it mysteriously appears on Facebook five minutes later (you know who you are.....EMMA & LOREN), leaving me no opportunity to veto that picture of me testing how many cocktail cherries I can fit in my mouth in one go (16).
So, once my contract is up and I can finally be rid of this htc phone, which I found brilliant when I first got it and now every time I look at it I want to punch it in it's stupid touch-screen face, I shall be getting myself an iPhone. Just don't ask me which model - I've only just discovered how to correctly write the name "iPhone" let alone look into which model I'd need. For the time being, I'll stick with my iPod and my iTunes. I'm now off to do some iRoning.
Nowadays, sitting at a home PC to do my social networking seems a bit carbon-dated. I feel like if I hold back any longer I'll be propelled back to 1989, or even the Stone Age. What with refusing to listen to the recent music charts and still listening to vinyl and cassettes, I'm just one step away from losing the power to speak modern day English and changing my name to Ug Ug. Opposable thumbs you say?? Never heard of such a crazy thing.....
When I admit to people I don't have an iPhone yet they look at me like I've just admitted to enjoying sex with animals. Even my friends have started to shun me as not being part of their "iGang". It's amazing what these iContraptions can do. I'll be on a night out with my mates and no sooner has somebody taken my picture it mysteriously appears on Facebook five minutes later (you know who you are.....EMMA & LOREN), leaving me no opportunity to veto that picture of me testing how many cocktail cherries I can fit in my mouth in one go (16).
So, once my contract is up and I can finally be rid of this htc phone, which I found brilliant when I first got it and now every time I look at it I want to punch it in it's stupid touch-screen face, I shall be getting myself an iPhone. Just don't ask me which model - I've only just discovered how to correctly write the name "iPhone" let alone look into which model I'd need. For the time being, I'll stick with my iPod and my iTunes. I'm now off to do some iRoning.
Saturday 14 April 2012
Talking about the car wash yeah
Today, after breaking my back washing my car with a bucket of water, I have come to the conclusion that the hose pipe ban can kiss my aching arse. Me not being the fittest person in the world - and having back problems, I found it knackering (not to mention messy) to be carrying large buckets of water back and forth through the house and having to bend and crouch down to scrub all the crap off the car.
I'd like to know how they're counting on catching people out. Will they have hose-pipe ninjas hiding in people's rose bushes? That could be painful. Or maybe a stealth hose-pipe army crew hovering over East Anglia in an invisible plane - like the one in X Men - ready to parachute down and arrest the offender mid-watering the Geraniums. Or maybe the local Government will hire a group of those local people to spy on us, like those ones who volunteer to stand by the road with a speed gun and catch people out. They have a name but I can't remember what they're called...........oh yes that's right: wankers.
I like to grow my own vegetables. Last year was tomatoes, spring onions and beetroots. This year is tomatoes & spring onions again, with the addition of peppers and turnips. I sure as heck ain't going round the garden with a watering can, having to keep filling up every 2 minutes. Oh no. I will use the easiest option: the hose. Unless of course we get our usual British Summer of rain, rain and more rain - then I won't need the hose after all! Will the nation using hose pipes really make that big an impact? I mean, whilst the Government and "VIP's" are driving around the country in their 3 litre Bentleys and zooming across from country to country on their private jets? Will watering the Begonias once a week suck the country dry? I'm sure we needn't worry about that, there're plenty of melting ice caps to solve that problem. Phew, what a relief that is(!)
As for washing my car - don't worry, there's no need to report me. As I heat up a wheat bag in the microwave and hunt for the Ibruprofen I have decided to allow those nice people at the local car wash do the hard work for me. Just doing my duty and keeping them in work. I'm all heart.
I'd like to know how they're counting on catching people out. Will they have hose-pipe ninjas hiding in people's rose bushes? That could be painful. Or maybe a stealth hose-pipe army crew hovering over East Anglia in an invisible plane - like the one in X Men - ready to parachute down and arrest the offender mid-watering the Geraniums. Or maybe the local Government will hire a group of those local people to spy on us, like those ones who volunteer to stand by the road with a speed gun and catch people out. They have a name but I can't remember what they're called...........oh yes that's right: wankers.
I like to grow my own vegetables. Last year was tomatoes, spring onions and beetroots. This year is tomatoes & spring onions again, with the addition of peppers and turnips. I sure as heck ain't going round the garden with a watering can, having to keep filling up every 2 minutes. Oh no. I will use the easiest option: the hose. Unless of course we get our usual British Summer of rain, rain and more rain - then I won't need the hose after all! Will the nation using hose pipes really make that big an impact? I mean, whilst the Government and "VIP's" are driving around the country in their 3 litre Bentleys and zooming across from country to country on their private jets? Will watering the Begonias once a week suck the country dry? I'm sure we needn't worry about that, there're plenty of melting ice caps to solve that problem. Phew, what a relief that is(!)
As for washing my car - don't worry, there's no need to report me. As I heat up a wheat bag in the microwave and hunt for the Ibruprofen I have decided to allow those nice people at the local car wash do the hard work for me. Just doing my duty and keeping them in work. I'm all heart.
Tuesday 10 April 2012
Bike Wankers - part 2
I almost came head to head with cyclist this morning. Well I say head to head, more like bumper to back wheel. Now I don't know much about riding one of these prehistoric tin machines, but Bike Wankers have some kind of signalling system...am I right? Isn't it something like stickng your arm out to the side like a dyslexic trying to do a "Hail Caesar?" Well anyhow, this B.W obviously hadn't quite mastered it so decided to omit it's signalling system.
It's bad enough being stuck with a cyclist in front of me on the roads at the best of times, but being stuck behind one for quite a distance along a road which is too narrow and windy for me to overtake is enough to flip me over the edge. Or should I say, flip them over the edge...into the roadside ditch. We approached a roundabout and I was to turn left. He never signalled so I assumed he was going straight ahead, so I wait (surprisingly large amount of patience of my behalf this morning) for him to go before I turn left. Bike Wanker turns left. Patience runs out. I take off so fast I almost do a wheel spin! I zoom past him in 2nd gear so I can rev my engine angrily at him to show I'm pissed off. I got as close as I possibly could to really put the shit up him and I'm so frustrated that I can't bump him off his bike I'm almost close to tears! (slight exaggeration but something along those lines).
There are many things which bring me joy in life; explaining to children there isn't really a Father Christmas, finding out the school bully grew up to be a single mother on the dole, watching small children cry whilst watching The Lion King after I explain that in real life Simba would eat both Timon and Pumba, then a hunter would shoot Simba dead and display his mounted severed head on his louge wall.
I'm joking of course. I don't think lion's eat warthogs.
But the thing that would bring me most pleasure would be the playful splat of a cyclist hitting the side of my car as I hilariously pull out in front of them. Oh I'm sorry...did I forget to signal??
It's bad enough being stuck with a cyclist in front of me on the roads at the best of times, but being stuck behind one for quite a distance along a road which is too narrow and windy for me to overtake is enough to flip me over the edge. Or should I say, flip them over the edge...into the roadside ditch. We approached a roundabout and I was to turn left. He never signalled so I assumed he was going straight ahead, so I wait (surprisingly large amount of patience of my behalf this morning) for him to go before I turn left. Bike Wanker turns left. Patience runs out. I take off so fast I almost do a wheel spin! I zoom past him in 2nd gear so I can rev my engine angrily at him to show I'm pissed off. I got as close as I possibly could to really put the shit up him and I'm so frustrated that I can't bump him off his bike I'm almost close to tears! (slight exaggeration but something along those lines).
There are many things which bring me joy in life; explaining to children there isn't really a Father Christmas, finding out the school bully grew up to be a single mother on the dole, watching small children cry whilst watching The Lion King after I explain that in real life Simba would eat both Timon and Pumba, then a hunter would shoot Simba dead and display his mounted severed head on his louge wall.
I'm joking of course. I don't think lion's eat warthogs.
But the thing that would bring me most pleasure would be the playful splat of a cyclist hitting the side of my car as I hilariously pull out in front of them. Oh I'm sorry...did I forget to signal??
Monday 9 April 2012
Confessions of a Thriftyholic
I've found a cure for my shopping addiction: having a friend the same size as me who has almost exactly the same taste in clothes. Who has bought many items and never even worn them. Who happens to be clearing out their wardrobe. Cheers Cat!
I'm turning into a thrift queen! This is how I see it; buying full priced clothing from shops is bad because it eats into your credit card. Whereas buying from a car boot or charity shop...or rummaging through your mates unwanted bags of clothes...is good. If you buy from the charity shop you're doing good because you're donating to a good cause whilst emerging with a fabulous vintage piece. If you buy from a car boot you're doing a great favour to the seller by freeing up some space in their wardrobe. The best thing of all? If you buy from second hand shops you can buy DOUBLE the amount of clothes you usually would, because they're cheaper! *deep contented sigh*
I'm very lucky with Cat because she has good taste in clothes (except for those hippy numbers...Cat, what were you thinking girlfriend?!) and we're around the same size. So when she texted me the other day asking if I'd like to go through her stuff before she gave it all away, I almost had to have a special moment to myself. The thought of acquiring new clothes, new or hand-me-down, makes me so happy I swear I could fly. A shopping trip should be prescribed by doctors to patients who suffer depression. But you have to be a little sensible too, otherwise you could end up spending so much money you get yourself into debt and then you get depressed - vicious circle. Suddenly my credit card bill is £450 and I've absolutely no idea why. When the bill came in I had to check my purse to make sure it hadn't been stolen. I kinda wished it had, then I probably would've gotten away with it. Actually...that's not a bad idea!
So my thanks goes out to Catherine Earle who, today, became my favourite person in the whole world. I'm now off to have a special moment.....
I'm turning into a thrift queen! This is how I see it; buying full priced clothing from shops is bad because it eats into your credit card. Whereas buying from a car boot or charity shop...or rummaging through your mates unwanted bags of clothes...is good. If you buy from the charity shop you're doing good because you're donating to a good cause whilst emerging with a fabulous vintage piece. If you buy from a car boot you're doing a great favour to the seller by freeing up some space in their wardrobe. The best thing of all? If you buy from second hand shops you can buy DOUBLE the amount of clothes you usually would, because they're cheaper! *deep contented sigh*
I'm very lucky with Cat because she has good taste in clothes (except for those hippy numbers...Cat, what were you thinking girlfriend?!) and we're around the same size. So when she texted me the other day asking if I'd like to go through her stuff before she gave it all away, I almost had to have a special moment to myself. The thought of acquiring new clothes, new or hand-me-down, makes me so happy I swear I could fly. A shopping trip should be prescribed by doctors to patients who suffer depression. But you have to be a little sensible too, otherwise you could end up spending so much money you get yourself into debt and then you get depressed - vicious circle. Suddenly my credit card bill is £450 and I've absolutely no idea why. When the bill came in I had to check my purse to make sure it hadn't been stolen. I kinda wished it had, then I probably would've gotten away with it. Actually...that's not a bad idea!
So my thanks goes out to Catherine Earle who, today, became my favourite person in the whole world. I'm now off to have a special moment.....
Friday 6 April 2012
What an Eggselent event
It's Easter time, and I can't think of anything to mark the resurection of Jesus Christ better than a straw bonnet and an egg made of chocolate. Seriously - where's the connection? I get the hot cross buns: the cross represents the crucifix. But an egg made of chocolate? Decorating a straw bonnet to make your child look like a hillbilly? I don't get it. But, it doesn't really matter because I'm Agnostic and couldn't give a crap about anything except Easter eggs right now.
I'm still braving the Slimming World diet at the moment, but I'm allowing myself one Easter egg. Seeing as Mum has already bought me one (at my insistance) it would be rude to refuse it. The older I get the more I feel I should cling on to childhood traditions. I explained to my mother, on no uncertain terms should she ever believe I'm too old for Easter eggs and advent calendars. She foolishly neglected to buy me a Christmas advent calendar one year claiming "But I thought you'd outgrown them now". An outrageous - almost slanderous - suggestion; one which almost cost her a Christmas present. The mistake will not be made again. My youth will stay in tact..... So shut up ok!
Tomorrow we shall set up an Easter egg hunt for my young cousin. I will sit at the sidelines, despising the fact that I can no longer get excited over events like this. Just like at Christmas, my enthusiasm has died for traditions which I used to find exciting. Growing up really does suck. So I shall have to pretend to be excited for her when she finds the hidden eggs, forcefully cheering her on when really I'm quite bitter over the fact that chocolate eggs no longer fill me with joy. I can't even have a hot cross bun because according to Slimming World, bread and butter are "sins". If I ever meet the founder of SW I'll be in danger of committing a completely different sin.
So, Happy Easter everybody! Hope you make yourself sick!
I'm still braving the Slimming World diet at the moment, but I'm allowing myself one Easter egg. Seeing as Mum has already bought me one (at my insistance) it would be rude to refuse it. The older I get the more I feel I should cling on to childhood traditions. I explained to my mother, on no uncertain terms should she ever believe I'm too old for Easter eggs and advent calendars. She foolishly neglected to buy me a Christmas advent calendar one year claiming "But I thought you'd outgrown them now". An outrageous - almost slanderous - suggestion; one which almost cost her a Christmas present. The mistake will not be made again. My youth will stay in tact..... So shut up ok!
Tomorrow we shall set up an Easter egg hunt for my young cousin. I will sit at the sidelines, despising the fact that I can no longer get excited over events like this. Just like at Christmas, my enthusiasm has died for traditions which I used to find exciting. Growing up really does suck. So I shall have to pretend to be excited for her when she finds the hidden eggs, forcefully cheering her on when really I'm quite bitter over the fact that chocolate eggs no longer fill me with joy. I can't even have a hot cross bun because according to Slimming World, bread and butter are "sins". If I ever meet the founder of SW I'll be in danger of committing a completely different sin.
So, Happy Easter everybody! Hope you make yourself sick!
Thursday 5 April 2012
Just a quickie....
I have just two things to say today, as I'm on limited time;
People who drive slow are making me mental.
Diets suck.
That is all.
People who drive slow are making me mental.
Diets suck.
That is all.
Monday 2 April 2012
Any ole iron
Another good weekend was had! The Friday night social club quiz was actually a good laugh - and not a Welsh Valley native in sight! Although we did come second. Very disappointing. The other guys on our team were quite proud, but to me - second means you just aint good enough. I don't want 2nd or 3rd: I want 1st. I don't want silver or bronze: I want gold. People who say "It's not the winning that matters it's the taking part" are usually people who lose at everything. Why enter a competition if you don't want to win? Because that's what games are; competition. So...compete, and stop being a loser.
Me and Emma took a trip to Colchester Zoo on Saturday. What a charmed life those chimpanzees lead. Lying around all day, eating, shitting and getting to throw that shit at complete strangers without being berated for it. If you can get away with it - why not??
I kind of have mixed morals about zoo's. I don't believe a wild animal's place is in a cage, no matter how big the cage is. But I love going to the zoo! Obviously if it looks like the animals are kept in bad conditions I will not visit again and I'll slander them all over my Blog. Plus there are specific reasons why some of them are kept in zoo's. All the same, it's sad to see an animal like a tiger - the most impressive animal I've ever seen - limited to wandering around a cage. But I guess that's life. If they were to be released into the wild having spent their entire life in captivity, would they survive? I'm sure not even the tiger would know the answer to that. But animals aren't stupid. In fact I'd go so far as to say a lot of animals are brainier than most humans. You only have to visit Southend for the day to realise that. So would it not be in the animals instinct to know what to do? I should probably watch more wildlife documentaries to find the answer - but do we really have all the answers? I'm becoming philosophical. I'll stop now before I start getting any crazy ideas.
On Sunday, we ventured out to a car boot sale in Foxhall. We acquired a pretty impressive haul of tat. I remember a time when I would refuse to enter any charity shops and was too embarrassed to rummage around a car boot. If I was shopping with my Mum and she wanted to look in a charity shop, I'd make a scene where I would act visibly disgusted by her suggestion - just in case anybody was left in any wonder about my (non-existant) middle-class status. Then I'd go get french fries from McDonalds and leave her to it. But now, I'm a total junk whore. I will buy clothes, DVDs, CDs...anything, from a charity shop and car boot. I do draw the line at underwear and shoes though. A guy was telling me today that he went to a car boot recently and somebody was selling vibrators - almost new. ALMOST NEW VIBRATORS. He swore he was telling the truth and I didn't believe him until he said it was in Great Yamouth, then I realised it was probably true.
But I don't care who sees me shopping now. I never understand why people brag about buying a pair of shoes that cost them thousands of pounds when some little Vietnamese kid probably put them together in a factory where the materials cost less than five pence. What's to brag about that? Oh yes you were just conned out of a thousand pounds for a bit of leather and a few beads - you must be very proud. Personally, I think there's more to be proud about by finding a vintage piece of clothing resembling the early days of Vivienne Westwood for £1 off a car boot sale. I mean, call me common, but isn't that more impressive...??
Me and Emma took a trip to Colchester Zoo on Saturday. What a charmed life those chimpanzees lead. Lying around all day, eating, shitting and getting to throw that shit at complete strangers without being berated for it. If you can get away with it - why not??
I kind of have mixed morals about zoo's. I don't believe a wild animal's place is in a cage, no matter how big the cage is. But I love going to the zoo! Obviously if it looks like the animals are kept in bad conditions I will not visit again and I'll slander them all over my Blog. Plus there are specific reasons why some of them are kept in zoo's. All the same, it's sad to see an animal like a tiger - the most impressive animal I've ever seen - limited to wandering around a cage. But I guess that's life. If they were to be released into the wild having spent their entire life in captivity, would they survive? I'm sure not even the tiger would know the answer to that. But animals aren't stupid. In fact I'd go so far as to say a lot of animals are brainier than most humans. You only have to visit Southend for the day to realise that. So would it not be in the animals instinct to know what to do? I should probably watch more wildlife documentaries to find the answer - but do we really have all the answers? I'm becoming philosophical. I'll stop now before I start getting any crazy ideas.
On Sunday, we ventured out to a car boot sale in Foxhall. We acquired a pretty impressive haul of tat. I remember a time when I would refuse to enter any charity shops and was too embarrassed to rummage around a car boot. If I was shopping with my Mum and she wanted to look in a charity shop, I'd make a scene where I would act visibly disgusted by her suggestion - just in case anybody was left in any wonder about my (non-existant) middle-class status. Then I'd go get french fries from McDonalds and leave her to it. But now, I'm a total junk whore. I will buy clothes, DVDs, CDs...anything, from a charity shop and car boot. I do draw the line at underwear and shoes though. A guy was telling me today that he went to a car boot recently and somebody was selling vibrators - almost new. ALMOST NEW VIBRATORS. He swore he was telling the truth and I didn't believe him until he said it was in Great Yamouth, then I realised it was probably true.
But I don't care who sees me shopping now. I never understand why people brag about buying a pair of shoes that cost them thousands of pounds when some little Vietnamese kid probably put them together in a factory where the materials cost less than five pence. What's to brag about that? Oh yes you were just conned out of a thousand pounds for a bit of leather and a few beads - you must be very proud. Personally, I think there's more to be proud about by finding a vintage piece of clothing resembling the early days of Vivienne Westwood for £1 off a car boot sale. I mean, call me common, but isn't that more impressive...??
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