Don't Stand So Close To Me

I have a dirty stinking cold virus. Cue "Awwwwww's please. It's mid-November and I'm supposed to be getting unreasonably excited about Christmas and musing over when to put my decorations up! Instead I'm soldiering through packets of cold & flu tablets, getting no sleep whatsoever and keeping Kleenex in enough business to last through till at least next Christmas.

I guess I'm a bit similar to a man when it comes to illness; I don't handle it very well and I feel extremely sorry for myself. There are at least three neccessaties in my life when I'm ill; 1. Mum, and any other slaves available at the time, 2. Sympathy, 3.Werthers Originals. My taste buds watch in horror as those bacteria particles jump into my mouth, and so sound the alarm in my brain to stock up on sucky sweets. After the helplessness comes the bitterness. I want to hunt down the person who infected me, in the same nature as Arnie going after Predator in the jungle, and sneeze into their mouth. I think this is a completely suitable form of revenge; you breathe in my direction with your dirty germ breath and you may as well just sneeze in my mouth. Tit for tat!

When people develop a cold or throat virus we should instantly alert environmental health and have the sick person quarantined in an isolated location, like say - the moon, far away from healthy people. At the very least we should have our Managers whipped and humiliated in public for allowing sick people into work to spread their filth! Last night I sneezed so much I feared my head would crack like a walnut. I think the family of bacteria nesting inside my immune system were playing a cruel prank on me. Every time they sensed my head lying down on the pillow they gave the signal to ignite a violent sneeze. Bastards. Oh well, who needs sleep anyway? It just gives me more time to catch up on late night trash tv, which becomes all the more interesting when you're drugged up on paracetamol and phenylephrine.

My taste buds always seem to take a hike when I have a cold. The only thing that tastes vaguely normal is black coffee. I've drunk so much coffee this week I swear if you cut me I'll bleed Millicano. In fact, I should really get them to sponsor my blog. On the plus side having a cold is a great excuse to stay in my pyjamas, eat junk and watch films all day. I just hope I manage to give it to someone else outside of this house in time for Christmas, I was ill last year so another germ-filled Christmas would be totally unfair. I have a pub, eggnog, and 500 tins of Celebrations with my name on them. Yesterday I spent all afternoon in bed feeling sorry for myself. I looked like a bitter, depressed, red-nosed Miss Haversham, surrounded by empty sweet packets and empty cups of Millicano (sponsor me dammit!!!).

Still, on the bright side of things I could always fill in for Rudolph if he fancies a year off. Father Christmas can rely on me! Just as long as the fat bastard keeps away from my Werthers originals.

Adventures of the Bored Shitless

The other night I was trying to think about something exciting I'd done recently and was a tad annoyed when I couldn't think of a single thing. I've said this a million times before, but I really need to get my butt in gear and start doing some outrageous activities so that I don't end up being one of those old biddies who talk about nothing but the weather. When I'm old children will cower, not just because I dislike them and will send my evil cats after them, but because they'll be terrified I'll corner them and regal them with another boring story about the time I got excited because M & S had a 50% sale on their gourmet microwave meals for one. It'll be like that film, Airplane, where every time Robert Hays tries to tell his life story to the passengers they kill themselves one by one (apologies if I've just spoiled the storyline for you, but quite frankly...you should've watched it by now; it's a classic). 

I've had some fabulous holidays in Canada, Spain, Italy, Cyprus, and various locations in the UK (although strictly speaking I don't really count my own country as a holiday, more of a I can't afford a decent fucking holiday abroad, kinda trip). I've also done a few cool things; if you take away the vertigo and projectile vomiting in the car home, followed by a raging headache; the skydive in 2002 was pretty epic. I raised £500 for the MS charity and Dyspraxia Foundation, so I can tick "do something worthwhile for charity" off my bucket list. I've met every comedian I've been to see, thankfully none of them were arrogant assholes. After I shook Lee Evans hand I vowed not to wash my hand ever again, but that dude is just so damn sweaty.

I've met shit people and I've met great people, I've also had some great times with great friends (is that too much over-use of the word great?) but I always feel like something's missing. I've never understood why some people have no other goal than to get married, have kids, give up work. That, to me, is just like saying "I give up". Maybe I'm being harsh, I just don't know why someone would want to limit themselves to possibilities. It's bad enough I can't get to auditions and theatre plays because of work, if I had kids I'd be limited outside of work too. I envy people who are easily satisfied. 

I spent a day at the amusement arcades with Emma a few weeks back and it was such a good laugh. I spent about a tenner just to win four Simpsons key rings but I love the thrill of winning, regardless of the quality of the prize. When they fell into that little tray I felt like I'd conquered the world. At one point I'd run out of two pences, so I had to run...run... to the change machine to get more. I kept looking back to make sure nobody had jumped in my spot; I was more than prepared to smackdown anybody brave enough to swoop in and win Marge Simpson....who I'd left teetering on the edge. After the arcades we had a laugh at the penis-shaped sweet rocks and marshmallow boobies - as one does on a trip to the seaside and went home marvelling at the junk we'd won that day, not even caring that we'd probably dropped fifty quid between us on shit we'll put in the junk sale the same time next year. These are the days of our lives! 

Whilst I want to continue these good times with my friends, I also want to broaden my horizons too. I think I've been in Norfolk too long, I've become glued down to one place looking no further than my own town for things to do. Work sucks me dry Monday to Friday, so I need to utilise this precious thing called; weekend. I'm slowly working through my bucket list, but I'm going to add to it now. I want to share exciting stories with my niece (when she's old enough not to allow her mind to be warped), and have her admire me for all the amazing things I've done. When I die, I'm having engraved on my headstone; "She stopped being boring with plenty of time to spare". I also want to make sure I'm buried with Homer, Marge, Lisa and Maggie; those suckers cost me over a tenner, and half hour of my time, I'll be buggered if I leave them behind.

Happy Geek

I worry from time to time that I'm too old to be a comic book nerd. I'm thirty one years old and I have an Avengers phone case and pencil case (I don't even own pencils), a glossy print of Robert Downey Jr as Iron Man (swoon!), an Avengers window sticker and lots of Marvel comics. Oh and I may have several t-shirts. Ten years ago I'd pee with laughter at the thought of being such a nerd, but nowadays I pee with excitement at the thought of being such a nerd. I get butterflies when I see trailers for Marvel movies. The fact that all the guys in the Avengers team are completely humptastic is, of course, nothing to do with it *ahem*.

I reckon that, subconsciously, part of the attraction is the fantasy of men who can protect and save whilst staying honourable. Captain America; strong, true-hearted, brave, respectful towards women and jolly good-mannered! You'd definitely take ole Cap to meet your mum. Then you have Tony Stark; great looking (it's R.D.J, I'm biased!), richer than Midas, funny, brave. Ok, so he's a bit arrogant, but who wouldn't be when you've got skills like that?? Thor, or should I say "Phwoar"! Well....need I say more? (I didn't actually intend for that rhyme to happen, I'm quite impressed). Basically, it's every quality we find an extreme rarity in real life.

Outside of the films and into the comics you have an array of talent, with plenty of bad boys for all you women who like to pick the wrong types! I'm busting to get to Comic-Con if only just to get amongst fellow nerds in their Marvel costumes! God, the thought of Comic-Con actually made me smile, I definitely just hit the nerd alert button. 

It certainly makes me smile when I think of how I used to mock the spotty little nerds at school. I never entertained the thought of dating them, I never entertained the thought of being so "sad" as to spend my nights chatting about comic books. If any of them knew me now I would definitely get a few raised eyebrows and smug looks. Plus I bet they're almost as hot as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers nowadays. Damn.

I've thought many times about what my special power would be if I were a superhero. Don't judge me; I bet you've all done the same! I keep changing my mind. Sometimes I think invisibility would be the coolest power to have, I don't need to explain to you why (where did you say Michael Bublés dressing room was again...?). But then I think telekinetic powers would be pretty awesome too. Coincidently, you know you're becoming a geek when you use the word awesome. To move things around with my mind and see the shock and confusion on peoples faces would be hilarious. But that wouldn't make me a proper superhero, that'd make me a nuisance. To have the super-fit skills of Natasha Romanoff, the precision shooting skills of Hawkeye, the power to heal like the Scarlet Witch, to be able to fly like Iron Man, telepathic/telekinetic powers of Jean Grey; I'd have a whole series of comics dedicated especially for me! It's a whole world of fantasy that's a whole world better than the day to day trivial matters we deal with on a daily basis. Escapism; never underestimate it.

I may be a nerd now, but I'm pretty sure I was cool once. Then again, who's to say what's cool and what's not? I think multi-millionaire Stan Lee is the answer to that question.

Summer Holiday: RIP

Oh dear. Back in the UK again. I try not to complain too much about this country (I mean the actual UK itself,not the weirdos and chavs and politicians who roam it. I've plenty to complain about those) but when you enter into 8 degrees after flying away from 32 degrees, it kind of puts things into an obvious perspective. Our weather is shit. When we landed in Gatwick the cold was almost unbearable. Anybody would think I'd been living in Cyprus for years, but after a mere seven days I had already become acclimatised to the heat, so getting out of the plane at Gatwick felt like walking into someone's Smeg. With the icebox on overload. Since I've been home the sun has come out a few times but it's still too cold to sunbathe. Instead, I've been sunbathing on my lounge carpet where the sun shines through the window. Desperate measures. I make myself an ice cold daiquiri and pretend I'm back in Cyprus. Just without the blue sky, azure sea, white sand, gorgeous waiters, pool, great food, etc. 

The wedding was fabulous. The bridesmaid was amazing *ahem*. All the wedding guests were lovely and there were no fights! (a little disappointing). I'm not into public displays of emotion (from myself. Other than rage of course) but even I had a few tears in my eyes. Probably the sun shining in them...*cough*. Getting the bride into her dress (how many fucking eyelet holes does one dress need???? God dang fiddly ribbon!) and walking down a fuckload of stone steps in heels were the only two hairy moments. I had a little trouble getting the dress done up and, even though she didn't say so, I could sense Sarah starting to stress. The steam coming out of her ears was a subtle sign. Going down the huge steps I heard Sarah whisper; "Are you ok Leigh Anne"? All I could muster was; "Mmhmmm", as I tried desperately not to arse over my dress train. I've not concentrated that much since school! Ha! Who am I kidding; as if I ever concentrated at school!

My only issue with the holiday was our hotel charging for wifi use. Charging!!! Oh if only I'd known some Greek swear words. It took me five days to learn to say Hello, and that was just in English. Kidding. It's sad when you reach a stage where you're in a beautiful country with lots of things to do and lots of cocktails to drink, but the most important thing is finding somewhere with free wifi. Each time we found a place with free wifi I felt as if I'd found an air bubble after having trouble breathing. Such a sad turn of events. But, all was fabulous! Sarah and Kirk are married and happy, and I didn't fuck up in my role of Bridesmaid. I didn't even get burnt! I rejected Stavros the waiters offer of a "stroll" along the beach. I didn't hire a quad bike and crash into a restaurant. Nor did I get seriously drunk and puke outside a kebab shop. In fact I think it's best I go back and try again! After all, I am a perfectionist. 

Kalimera Stavros....!

Burn After Reading

After a difficult few weeks at work, and finding out the guy I was seeing was shagging his ex-girlfriend, I'm so ready for my holiday this week! Seven days in Paphos and bridesmaid duties for Sarah and Kirk. Holiday and being a bridesmaid has definitely not come cheap, but it's worth it and I deserve it!

I've chosen my Mum as my plus one, given that she hasn't been abroad since before I was born and there are no men worthy of being my holiday companion. So it's going to be a case of Sun, Sea, and No Sex Please I'm With My Mum. Not that I'm in a rush to have a man anywhere near me again anytime soon, not after the last few. Well, after all of them really. The last guy was an excellent bullshitter, I'll give him that. He looked me straight in the eyes and said "I'm not like the other guys, I'd never hurt you in any way". He seemed extremely sincere at the time. The fact that he claimed to be neurotic about keeping things clean and tidy, whilst his bathroom had mould older than Gandalf, should've warned me early on that he wasn't completely honest.  It's hard to know what to believe now. Men claim that women are paranoid and they don't understand why, well guys...now you know! Also, always remember this; we always find out, one way or another, when you're dipping your stick in somebody else's honey pot. I'm not angry, I don't think I'm even that surprised. I'm certainly not going to be bitter about it. I just hope his dick falls off.

Anyway, enough about the latest douchebag, lets get back to the holiday! I'm excited, but before the fun of the holiday comes the unfortunate experience of flying; and the consequent projectile vomiting. I've only actually thrown up once on a plane but that was bad enough - have you ever tried communicating with non-English speaking Spanish airport cleaners? Not understanding me trying to explain I've been sick in this bag led to me having to actually act out being sick into the bag. People pretty much kept their distance from me at the baggage collection point. Nevertheless, I very much dislike feeling sick so am not looking forward to the flight, and no amount of sugar-free sucky sweets is going to stop my eardrum from feeling like its going to implode. 

After a day of recovering I shall celebrate our landing with copious amounts of cocktails. According to the hotel website we have a poolside bar! I'm not sure swimming whilst under the influence of an extravagant cocktail of various alcoholic substances is an entirely great idea, not since the last time I almost took out my eye on the cocktail umbrella, but hey...we only live once. Sink or swim! In my case; sink. Most importantly, I need to ensure I don't make the mistake of falling asleep in the sun whilst reading my book, not like I did last month when I woke up looking like I'd had an all-over chemical peel with sulphuric acid.

I'm slightly concerned about the food out there. The closest I've ever gotten to Greek food is a bag of cheesy puffs I bought once in Spain called Hercules Puffs. I had taramasalata in a Greek place in Canada years ago and that was gorgeous, nothing like the shit you buy in supermarkets that tastes like the manufacturers just packaged up something a fish puked up. I believe kebabs are quite popular over there. Similar to England I guess, although it'll be weird standing in a kebab shop without hearing chavs swearing at the counter assistant, and a drunken hobo pissing up the wall outside. Anyway, if I don't find any food I like I could always survive the week on cocktails, at least they have fruit in them.

This will be my first holiday abroad in four years so I'm determined to have a good time. I'm going to do as many touristy things as I can possibly fit in, drink as many cocktails as my liver can fit in, and avoid as many dodgy kebabs as my bowels can fit in. Or out, as the case may be. Hopefully the wedding will go nice and smooth too, preferably without me arsing down the steps tangled in my dress train. Then, when I get back I shall immerse myself in work and my friends. If at any point I decide to be stupid enough to start dating again you can guarantee the first thing I'll be checking out is the bathroom; it says a lot about a man.

Winky Flirt Babe

So I took the plunge into Internet dating, just like my friends suggested. It was a great example of exactly why I'm usually so stubborn towards anybody's advice. After 2 weeks of "winks" and "flirts" from guys who looked like they'd just escaped prison, catching their faces on the barbed wire on the way out, and messages from guys proclaiming I have a "great rack babe", I decided to cancel my subs. How do any guys reckon on getting a decent girlfriend with a pick up line like that?? i mean its hardly the height of romantic wooing. Babe...? In the literal sense of the word, I'm hardly a "babe". Plus it reminds me of that film with the talking pig. Sorry Mr BigDong31, but that's a line I ain't biting!

I was seeing a guy until recently, but he turned out to be pretty much like all the others. Self-absorbed, a bit distant, a tad weird etc. Plus he had kids; major buzzkill! He never liked to text whilst he was with his kids. Somebody needs to remind him that kids that age don't particularly want to be hanging out with Dad, so I'm sure they wouldn't give a crap if he was texting in their presence. I genuinely liked him, although I had my reservations, and besides the making me watch some motor racing bullshit he knew I didn't like, and texting his ex-girlfriend throughout our evening together, I actually felt comfortable with him. But then he said he'd text to discuss our, whatever it was we had, and never bothered. Three days later when I see him in a situation that involved both of us being together in the same place, he pretends like nothing had ever happened. I stick by my theory that men are better at mind games than women. He did me a favour really, I could never be with a guy who owns a tutu. Don't ask.  

I did meet a guy last week who seems very keen. One major problem though; he lives in Wales. He couldn't live in a worse location! It's kind of ironic considering my thoughts on Wales. In fact I may just change my middle name to Irony.

To be honest, I'm quite happy as I am right now. I'm taking every guy I meet with a pinch of salt. In fact I might just keep a bottle of salt on my person at all times. Maybe keep it in my rack...?

 

S'not Funny

I do believe I have the power to make things happen. Only last week I made this utterly stupid musing; "I'm surprised at how I haven't caught the cold virus that's been going round the office". What a knob. I'm now lying in a bath full of enough oils and concoctions to make the Macbeth witches proud. I can't actually smell the bath water right now, but I'm pretty sure if I could it'd make the inside of my nose drop out. Already I can see the wallpaper peeling away from the walls and hear the dog whining outside the door. I bet I'm still ill tomorrow. My colds usually last so long that Kleenex have now decided to sponsor me. Summer colds are the worse, don't ask me why, they just are. I'm so shit when I have a cold, I have no energy and I require my mum to immediately make her way to Tesco in order to buy me ten thousand oranges and a packet of sucky sweets. I'm weak and I feel sorry for myself. I was clearly a man in my past life.

I treated myself to a mini shopping trip yesterday, although I hasten to add it was for stuff I actually need. We just won't mention about the extra little deviations from Debenhams 😉. Usually shopping makes me feel good, but this virus stole that special moment away from me! I was very much looking forward to showing off my new little black number to my current "special interest" last night, so I really hope my ample bosom was enough to distract him away from the fact I looked like an extra from Dawn of the Dead.

Another thing that annoys me about colds is this; why do they always start when you've just started a new diet? I was doing really well sticking to my allocated total amount of calories per day, in fact...I was finishing my days with extra to spare. But now I have a cold and all I want to do is comfort eat. I'm craving cheese puffs and salt & vinegar crisps! I need to be defiant towards my cravings, I do not want to look back at Sarah's wedding photos and wonder where the giant house came from that she's standing next to. Oh, that's not a house; that's me. Tomorrow I shall mostly be eating grapefruits and blueberries. Unless somebody decides to go on a bacon roll run. Then I'm fucked.

It's a New Dawn it's a New Day

Remember me...? I'm the girl who said she'd Blog more regularly. Oops. I'm also the girl who said she'd never get an iPhone. Double oops. Yep, I'm an iWanker. However, this does mean I now have no excuse not to blog more often. No more waiting for three weeks for the pc to switch on and load up!

Let me sum up what's been happening in a nutshell, because if I go into detail I'll be covered in cobwebs by the time I'm finished typing;

I no longer work or live in Ipswich. Ipswich is shit. Mr Z is, thankfully, out of my life. My brother split from his slag, er girlfriend, and we haven't seen my niece since Christmas. I'm back home but house hunting with a friend, yay! Working in Norwich with a great bunch of people, yay! And most importantly; I'm fairly hungover right now. That last one wasn't really relevant to the subject, I just wanted you to know how dedicated I now am to my blog. 

Sarah is getting married next month and I'm the bridesmaid. The key factor here is that it's in Paphos. Oosh!! First holibobs in bleedin' yonks (translation to all my overseas readers; I haven't had a holiday for a fair period of time). I have the dress and the bag, now to work on the shoes. Nothing too high; we have to walk down a large bunch of steps and I think it goes without saying that I'll definitely fall in my arse in skyscrapers. I'd like to get through the wedding pictures with my face in one piece. Same applies to my dignity.

Sarah's hen do took place last night, hence why I'm hanging, and I'm sure she had a good night. I hope so anyway! She didn't seem to mind being adorned with cocks, balloons and neon bracelets, good sport that she is. I always wondered who first thought about using willies as a hallmark for hen do's. Maybe it's a stark reminder that this is your last chance to see as many willies as you can? Or maybe it's to make you wonder if you're gonna spend the rest of your life with a cock? Whatever the reason, willies are funny, and we used them to full potential. Bit gutted when I lost my willy in the ladies toilets though. 

Now the hen do is over we're very much looking forward to Sarah and Kirks big day. Sunny climate, booze, good food and good times. I'm just trying not to think of those stairs.....

Power of Speech - Rest in iPeace

It's hard to believe that just one month ago I was looking to the sky and begging the clouds to drop some snow on Christmas Day to make it feel more festive. Now I look to the sky and curse the clouds for dropping snow - which in turn instantly turns to slush, causing me to realise my car isn't as fabulous as I once thought. I so hate owners of 4 x 4's right now.

For my sins, I drove in the adverse weather conditions at the weekend to stay with my cousin in Essex. She's just discovered free online games on her "Smart Phone" and become a little bit addicted. Everywhere I turned someone was on their poxy phone looking at WhatsApp, WeatherApp, TwatApp etc. I bet more and more people will be requesting to be buried with their iPhones, not because they can call for help if they miraculously wake up, but so they can check what's new on "WhatsApp".
I don't care what pro-iPhoners have to say about this - they do make people social retards. So called "Smart" phones are killing the long-established art of conversation. A normal conversation about ten years years ago would go something like this;

"Hey Fred, is that actor, Jack Lemmon, still alive? It's been driving me mad"
"Erm, not sure mate......Hey Dave, is Jack Lemmon still alive?"
"He's the bloke in Some Like It Hot right?"
"Yeah that's him"
"Brilliant film, very funny, a defining film for Marilyn Monroe I think you'll both agree"
"Oh definitely I totally agree Dave, Marilyn Monroe was a very talented woman, but is Jack Lemmon still alive?"
"No mate, I think he died a few years back. Shame really"
"I know. Such a great actor".

Here's how this conversation would take place today;

"Hey Fred, I just found out on my iPhone that Jack Lemmon died."
"Bummer".

Not only did the iPhone kill that conversation, it killed the discovery that two friends had a similar taste in common AND the need for a third person to get involved. It's a social conversation murderer. I rest my case. You mark my words, children will soon forget the art of normal plain English. Its bad enuff tht ppl r tking in txt spk lk its a nrml lange. Teens are using ridiculous words and phrases like "Totes" and "It's well ream". I have absolutely no idea what kids are saying nowadays. Their conversation may as well be in double Dutch. In fact I'd probably understand double Dutch better. In fifteen or twenty years, maybe not even as long as that, they'll be no need for schools. What would usually take a teacher half an hour to teach you, a kid could look up on their iPhone in two minutes. Schools will become obsolete and there will be born a different kind of education system: iSchool. Parents will be forced to buy their children iPhones or iPads to be educated at home. Let's face it, the Government are always looking for ways to save money. Middle schools across the country have already been closed down, what's to stop it going further than that?

Maybe I'm putting ideas into their heads. Or maybe they're already planning on doing it and I've unwittingly blown a whistle and they'll soon be beating down my door to silence me! Maybe I'll iShutup and go to iBed now. YAY iPhones, God I love iPhones, they're SO great, shutting down schools - HA! Genius idea! Or should I say iDea AHAHAHAHA....*nervous laughter fade out*......

Thank you for the days

Last weekend I heard CITV were playing an weekends worth of "old skool" programmes to mark its thirty year aniversary. Everybody was talking about it on Facebook and I was extremely gutted because I thought I wasn't able to pick up the CITV channel on Freeview. I missed the entire lot on Saturday but then I mentioned it to Mum on Sunday morning and she said "well of course we can pick up the CITV channel....."! ARRRRGH!!! I missed an entire day of Spatz, FunHouse, Knightmare, Mike & Angelo, Button Moon etc! Well I wasn't about to miss a minute more. After Mum showed me what channel it was on I started watching from 10:00am and didn't finish until 3:30pm! I stopped watching only because dinner was being served. Obviously I recorded Press Gang, which was being shown at 4:00pm. God I SO had the hots for Dexter Fletcher in that show.

As I waited for the first programme to start (almost shed a little tear when I realised I'd missed another episode of Spatz that morning) I grew concerned that the magic would be taken away from me. I watched all these programmes the first time around and I loved them so much, I hoped that they wouldn't come across as naff and ridiculous now. I was not to be disappointed. Button Moon was first on the agenda and I couldn't help but smile all the way through it as it bought back happy memories of days gone past. My brother and I had a VHS (I get shivvers saying that. VHS. Oh happy days!) of Button Moon. Six totally fantastic and mesmerising episodes. As I watched this brilliantly tatty and cheap-budgeted programme it reminded me of an episode where the characters looked through the telescope to see the land of egypt, one scene in particular where it had two sand-dancing puppets. At the end of the dance a camel walked in front of the camera and spat on the floor. It sounds stupid, but my brother almost shit himself laughing at that scene. He must've been about four years old at the time. We re-wound that scene a dozen times and still never tired of seeing it. I know it's sad to be a thirty one year old watching Button Moon, but the memories it provoked were totally worth it.

FunHouse was one of my all-time favourites, not least because of Pat Sharps fabulous mullet. Pat Sharp's mullet should have a Facebook page all to itself. In fact I might email him and suggest it! If CITV were ever to remake FunHouse and have grown-up contestants I think I would be absolutely anything to take part! I don't care how old you are, there is always a child-like presence inside of you that wants to start a food fight, or drive around a studio in a go-cart, or dive into a bath full of slime. Am I right...? That's a rhetorical question - I know I'm right!

I feel the need to thank CITV for helping me relive the happy days of my childhood. I disliked school so much at times. Coming home on a Friday to FunHouse, or any day of the week really, and watching stuff like Sooty and Fraggle Rock, was a great way of helping me to forget the day that had just finished. As soon as Pats mullet ran onto the screen that was it, the week was over and everything was great! The start of the Fraggle Rock theme tune still gives me goosebumps! I have to admit too, there was a scene in Sooty where Sweep was singing an Elvis song which made me crack up so much I had to keep rewinding it to watch again! Guess we never really grow up do we??

I'm Back!

Wow, it's been a while since I last pulled my finger out of my butt and posted on here! I am sad to admit that nothing particularly exciting has occured since my last Blog - with the exception of my beautiful little niece being born in August last year (still feels weird saying last year). Yes I know I don't like children, but this one is different because she's immediate family and cuter than any other baby in the world and I don't care what you say. So there.

So my Christmas was more or less ruined by a dirty selfish cold virus and chest infection - bought into the office by my manager, who apparently goes by the motto "Share and Share Alike". No prizes for guessing who I was cursing on Christmas Eve as I laid on the sofa hacking up my internal organs. On Christmas Eve I watched every Christmas movie ever made in an attempt to feel more festive. Alas, not even Chevy Chases Lampoon antics or Richard Attenborough's annoying sweet Santa Claus could cheer me up. I ate my body weight in comfort food, I ate slept and breathed After Eights, but still I couldn't raise a smile. Actually, watching my niece enjoying her presents on her first ever Christmas was pretty nice and she holds the prize for cheering Leigh up on the big day! Although to be fair it was hard to tell if she was enjoying her presents, due to the fact that she's only four months and doesn't give a shit about anything other than getting her daily food intakes and plenty of naps. She's not completely dissimilar to me really.

I was impressed with my presents too this year. They're usually good, but this year my parents excelled themselves. I often pined for the days of my excitment at receiving toys and board games, they obviously die off a bit as one gets older. But this year I had a present to make up for the fact that I don't have fun presents anymore. I'd always laughed at how ridiculous grown adults look in something previously associated only with babies and toddlers, and I do still think they look ridiculous, but the lure of the comfort and warmth of a onesie was too much to resist. I now sit proudly (and warm) in my pink and black cow print onesie, not the slightest bit ashamed. It may, however, be a different case when nature calls.

My New Years Eve was distinctly uneventful. I didn't know anybody in the area who had plans to go out, plus I was still feeling a bit pants anyway. So a night in with junk food and Bridget Jones's Diary it had to be. I was fine with that really, I'd go for Colin Firth over raised taxi fares and vomiting drunk town chavs anyday. I watched about two minutes of the London fireworks, which probably cost the taxpayers about three times the amount of money the Government are taking away from child tax credits this year. I went to bed at precisely 00:05am. I love my rock 'n' roll lifestyle.

I have nothing to report on my relationship status. It remains firmly in the single position. I've had several not-quite-so romantic offers of sex from a few guys I know, who are already in relationships - which just convinces me further that I'm clearly better off single. Who knows who we can trust. I'm still unconvinced that internet dating is the way forward. I signed up to a dating site a while ago to see if there were any decent looking men in my local area. Needless to say there aren't! Or if there is they certainly aren't on any dating sites! I haven't bothered to log on to the site since but I still continue to receive email updates. I've had about 250 "winks" and approximately 35 "Interested In You". I was very much into my last boyfriend, despite his weird issue with me touching his penis with my hands and mouth. I hasten to add, it definitely was not because I was unclean! I found out after we broke up that it was probably due to an unfortunate occurance during his college days. I shall not divulge what happened but I will say I sincerely hopes he learns to tell the difference in future - or goes to the toilet first.

Before my last boyfriend was a string of knobheads, as you know, so why would I want to take the time and effort filling in a lengthy "About Me" form online and pay a monthly subscription just to meet more knobheads? I know I'm being pessimistic, there are probably lots of lovely guys who use online dating. In fact, I can understand why people do it. It's part of the fun on a real date to find out things about the other person as you go along, it may even be remotely interesting. But it's not often until the third or forth date that you find out he collects cat collars, or spends nineteen hours a day playing Call Of Duty, or that his Mum still calls him every night to sing him to sleep. Wouldn't it be great if all first dates had to legally start with a relationship questionaire?

1) Are you currently receiving, or have recently received, psychiactric treatment?
2) What is your annual income?
3) Do you have, or is there a possibility you may have, any children?
4) Do you agree that tracksuits should only be worn on a running track or whilst gardening?
5) Are any of your exes a little bit mental?
6) Do you have any ambitions beyond finishing the final level of Halo?
7) Do you have any commitment issues or gay tendancies?
8) Do you object to black and pink cow print onesies.....?