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.....?

First Aid? That's just sick.

Yesterday I had to partake in a St John Ambulance First Aid At Work course. Now, I have every respect for members of the public who use their free time to help save lives, but why do they all have to be so serious?? The guy who taught us was ex-military and boy could you tell! He was like a mix of Keith Lard from Phoenix Nights and Serjeant Major from Carry On England. Although to be fair he did make a few jokes, not that any of them were funny, but at least he tried.

This will be the third time I've trained to be a first aider. Mind you, first aid training nowadays involves doing a quick practice on a dummy (which I'm sure most of you young blokes have tried at some point anyway - under slightly different circumstances) and watch a few videos and agree that crawling around on the floor in the kitchen near a chef carrying a pot of hot oil is a bad idea. Anyone with half a brain cell can get a first aid qualification. Except maybe the cast of Made In Chelsea - they probably wouldn't give the kiss of life to anyone without a wallet full of money.

I would like to think that if somebody dropped down on the floor in front of me in Asda (in a non-worshipping kinda way) I'd be able to stay calm and focused and see exactly what the problem is. My only problem lies with my OCD about touching strangers in a "personal" way. I'm not talking about kissing good-looking blokes in clubs of course, that's perfectly acceptable, but having to physically put my lips to somebody else's when they may not have the best hygiene in the world. I don't mean to sound cruel, but if I went to give mouth to mouth to a person who had bad breath I'm afraid it's compressions only or die. Our trainer was talking about various conditions which would make a person collapse and lose control of their bowels, or vomit profusely. One of the many reasons I don't want children is because I don't like poop and I don't like vom. I cannot give somebody, who's just been sick, mouth to mouth without me vomming on their face and I'm sorry but if somebody shits theirself they're on their own. One of the other instructions given to us once finished helping a casualty was "clean up mess". Erm, I've just saved your life and now I'm expected to clean up your faeces? I would say that's taking the piss. Or the shit in this case.

So a word of advice to anybody with some kind of underlying condition which might make them collapse at any time; if you shit yourself or puke whilst I'm around, consider yourself toast!

I'm A Celebrity.....well why not?Everybody else in the free world is!

Oh dear it's that time of year again. I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here. Celebrity....really? So who's going to feature this year I wonder? Nick Clegg's cleaners Mother's Aunt? Peter Andre's Uncle's barber? Or maybe the guy who services John Prescott's Jaguars? Or maybe John Prescott?? No, they'd never sink that low. The word celebrity is used a bit too freely now. How do you actually define a celebrity? I was discussing this with Paul earlier and he suggested a celebrity should be someone in the public eye who we can all aspire to. I too believe this is what a celebrity should be, one who regularly features on TV or film and is instantly recognisable if you were to bump into them in the streets. I picked up a few magazines the other day and didn't recognise a single face on the front. I've actually taken to reading Rock Gardens & Water Features Monthly just so I have something to read which doesn't contain a four-page feature on the latest irritating Mr or Mrs Nobody from The Only Way Is Made In Chelsea Factor Get Me Out Of Here. No doubt Joey Essex will suddenly decide to design his own range of rock gardens and totally ruin my week, then I'll be forced to sit and stare at the staff room wall as it's the only thing in Great Britain which doesn't contain anything to do with reality TV "stars"!

A real star should be someone with a fabulous talent who brings joy and entertainment to the masses. What does Amy Childs bring to the masses other than  bejewelled vaginas? Oh, just that then? Fine. Katie Price - the only thing she brings me is the desire to throw up every time I see her spotty orange face on TV selling the latest exclusive story on her child's bowel movements. Joey Essex - Joey who....? I've run out of names now because there are so many douchebags on TV I've given up watching it. People take the mick because I watch Downton Abbey and ok, I admit, it can be a little lame, but at least it features people who can act. The lack of this talent is why I do not watch soaps and reality TV - other than Strictly Come Dancing of course because it features real dance talent!

I hope the majority of my fellow Bloggers agree with me, and I hope that one day people with half a brain cell will realise we need to be admiring real stars with a great personality and a huge talent, and that they will join me in a picket line to banish these dickheads from our screens forever!

Only you can make it so!