I have become complacent. Complacent to the point of docility. This is not me. This is not me at all. I am never one to sit back and let everything wash over me purely because it is easier than tackling things head on. This is not right. This must stop. As of now, I will not be trodden on. Or walked over. I will do things I want to do with zeal and a lustrous glow. I will.

The weekend was nice. Not great, and nothing bad happened. It was just nice. I didn't do anything. Nothing of substance. The sun shone and I spent most of those 48 hours out in the garden or walking the dog. HRH Queen Tula. Also known as Munchkin or, occasionally, Stinky. She has a big leather football and and a squeaky toy. You throw the squaky toy for her and she runs and gets it. She won't let it go. Then she starts squeaking it in her mouth. This is where she comes right up to you and blocks your path, because she just knows that in that carrier bag is the football. It was once covered in black leather. Now it's saturated with doggie drool, there is very little leather left on it, and what is left has been partially detached, making it perfect for her to carry in her mouth. Along with the squeaky toy. Every now and then she'll drop the ball in front of you and switch her eyes between you and the ball, just waiting for you to kick it. We play this game for hours in the park, and I love it when she anticipates which way you're going to kick it. When you dribble it for a few steps, and she has no idea which direction the ball is going to fly, she runs round in a circle. This is the ideal time to kick the darn thing, when she's not standing directly in front of it - I have, once or twice, kicked it and hit her on the head with it. She's a mean goalie.

I really have nothing to say. After 2 days 'to myself', (ha ha HA - I WISH) I actually have nothing at all to say. Nada. I am completely dumbounded. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Goodbye.

It's all a load of rubbish

As I drove to the train station this morning, I saw the bin men emptying people's bins. One of them was rooting through the bins to check that that household was not putting recyclable items in their normal trash...

I read in the newspaper today that local councils nationwide (cough, cough, the Labour Government) are going to start charging us for the amount of rubbish that we throw away, in a bid to persuade more people to recycle - a so called pay-as-you-throw scheme. Or, another one of Gordy's stealth taxes, that is going to cost the average British family an extra £120 each year. Now, don't get me wrong. I am all for recycling - in the long term it is much more economically efficient than producing new 'things' every time, not to mention the extra benefits environmentally. BUT, in a country which is being driven in to the ground by non-stop taxes, surely there are better to overcome these problems? I lived in Argentina for a while, and pretty much all drinks and liquids come in glass bottles. Now, you do pay an extra 25 cents more, as a 'deposit' for the bottles, but this you get back when you return them. The same happens in Netherlands. You have bottle-return points AT the supermarkets or bottle shops, where you deposit your glass bottles and get a receipt, so that when you go shopping you either get the money back or get the money off your next bottle purchase. Not only that, but plastic bags have become pretty much obsolete too, further cutting down the extra rubbish.

And what about the UK? I mean, if Argentina (a developing world, for heaven's sake) can get it right, then surely the developed world should be too? Hell, no. This is just way too much to ask by the sounds of things. My council provides two wheelie bins. A brown one for rubbish and a green one for all recyclable items. Now, in to the green one, they ask you to put in paper, cardboard, plastic and tins (but they do not recycle glass - duh). Now, there is absolutely no way on earth I will believe that the London Borough of Sutton actually employs people to sort through the items in the green bins so that they can all be recycled. NO WAY, JOSE. They do, however, encourage their rubbish collectors to search through the bins, in the hope that they will be able to fine you. This is all just a ridiculous money-spinner and I seriously can't understand why other people don't see this. I understand that we all have to pay taxes. Without giving money to the state, we would have no public services. But, when we are all now being taxed to the hilt and we are not getting the services that we pay for, and on top of it we are treated like crap, forgive me if I don't want to hand any more of my money over.

On a brighter note, I've just found out that I was paid today instead of next Monday. Woohoo!

Time to lose it

I joined the gym at the beginning of January. You could call lots of exercise my New Year's resolution, although I never did say to myself, or anyone else for that matter, "right, this year I am going to exercise lots and lose weight". Maybe that's where I went wrong. Anyhow, for the whole of January and the first few days of February I did so well. I went about 4-5 times a week for about an hour and a half each time. I felt absolutely fantastic. I didn't weigh myself before I joined, nor did I weekly to see how I was doing, which was more than likely another mistake. And then I went to stay with family in Australia for 3 weeks, and when I came back I didn't go. I don't know why, I just didn't. In fact, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I have gone to the gym in the last 7 weeks or so. And last week I really noticed how much I've slipped. My trousers are a lot tighter, and there is absolutely no way I'm buying bigger ones. No way. So today I resolved to lose weight. Seriously lose weight. The gym can wait until the weekend, but as of today I will be completely changing my eating habits. No more purchasing of brownie bites when I go to the supermarket, no matter how good they are. I had a yogurt and a banana for breakfast and a salad and a cup of soup for lunch. The salad was not very nice, so I will be bringing my own in as of tomorrow. I like most things Sainsbury's has to offer, but I do not recommend their healthier option chicken and honey-mustard salad thing. There's nothing in the way of salad in it, apart from a few bits of chopped pepper, and it's all pasta (and not very nice pasta) with about 2 very sad looking bits of chicken in it. The tinned food I get for my dog looks more appetising. Anyhow, I have also eaten lots of fruit, and have a packed of pre-prepared carrot sticks in the fridge (there's absolutely no way I am going to peel and chop carrots in to batons myself when Sainsbury's do it so well). These things are obviously better to snack on than crisps or chocolate or whatever people snack on. The difficult bit is going to be at home. You see, I'm the only one who wants to 'diet' (oh how I hate that word) so cooking for people and making it healthy is going to be problematic. Also, I am a carb fiend. I love it. I love bread, especially brown bread with seeds and bits, which although it is healthier it is still a carb. I love past and rice, and the same applies with the brown versions. If I could get away with cooking brown pasta and rice for the horrible toads at home I would, but unfortunately I can't, and I really do not feel like cooking 2 separate dinners after I have had an 11 hour day. To be honest, I really can't stand the thought of cooking one meal when I get home. So, I am going to try and cook some healthy dinners on the weekend, which I can then put in the freezer and defrost as and when. This sounds like a good idea, so I will let you know how I go.

Anyway, this talk of dieting, or at least being more healthy, got me looking on the internet for people's tips. I am sure that tips from people in similar situations are going to be more user-friendly, and certainly more sustainable than Rosemary Connolly's steps, or the tips relayed by some beautiful 6ft blonde with rock hard abs. These are just so unrealistic and I have no doubt that within a week any 'normal' person will be ready to give up. Or jump off a bridge. I hear all these people saying how they exercise for 2 hours a day, and have a personal trainer, and only eat certain things at certain times. Damn them all.

Firstly, I work. I generally cannot take 2 hours out of my day for exercise purposes. I leave home at 6.30am to get the 6.45am train in to the city. I start work at 7.30am. I work bloody hard, and generally get the chance to grab a sandwich, which I then eat at my desk. I finish work any time after 5.30pm - sometimes it's 5.30, sometimes 7pm, so the earliest I ever get home is approximately 7pm. I am home by about 7.15, where I have to walk the hound, wash dishes, do laundry, feed animals, cook dinner, have a bath and go to bed. Granted, my evenings are lengthening now that it stays lighter for longer, but my family are generally quite selfish, so it is me left to do all of the above. Every day. When I'm up at about 5am, the last thing I want to do in the evening is go to the gym, do you see what I mean? What I'm getting at, is that I DO NOT HAVE TIME to exercise 2 hours a day every day. Get it?

Secondly, I cannot afford a personal trainer. Now this isn't really a biggie, seeing as it's pretty much only the hoity-toity who can. In fact, I do not know one person who has a personal trainer.

Also, it's not often that I can pick to eat when I want. During the week, everything fits around work. I eat lunch when I have a spare ten minutes (enough time to run to the shop downstairs pretty much dictates my lunch 'break') and I can't have dinner before 7.30pm. If I get home at 7, the earliest that dinner will be on the table is 7.30, and that's if I only do a quick salad. When it gets to about 8pm, I really don't want to eat, and that's where the trouble starts. That is exactly when I will make a sandwich and have a packet of crisps or some cake. Something that tastes absolutely delicious, but you know that even if you could spend 2 hours in the gym, that it is unlikely to burn off anywhere near the number of calories you have just eaten.

Anyhow, I'm hoping to go on holiday in September with my friends. I need some sunshine, and a proper break. And I really don't want to go if I'm going to be uncomfortable with the way I look.


Poor, deluded people
Anyhow, while I was scouring the internet for tips on how to lose weight and maintain a healthier lifestyle, I came across some pro-ana websites. I've heard about these sites, but have never been intrigued enough to go looking for them. However, Google decided it was going to throw a few at me for good measure and, I must say, my curiosity got the better of me. These girls are literally starving themselves in three pieces of fruit a day, and talk about how much they hate themselves because they were so starving they had to actually eat something. These girls are suffering, and they don't even know it. I have picked out some quotes which really got to me:

"A flat stomach is nice but a concave stomach is nicer."

"Food is like art - to be looked at but not eaten."

"Anorexia is not a self-inflicted disease, it's a self-controlled lifestyle."

"I want my collar-bones and hips to be as sharp as my mind."

"The body is the baggage you must carry through life. The less baggage, the shorter the trip."

The last quote says it all. And made me cry. These are like mantras repeated over and over again. And some of the photos posted as "inspo" (inspiration) are absolutely terrible. I do not understand how these girls think that this is remotely attractive. They even applaud themselves, and each other, when they purge after eating. It's not even as if it's just girls.


I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Issues I have

Wednesday. Not the beginning of the week, not the end, just somewhere in the middle. It is, however, post midday, so theoretically we are closer to the end. I think I am going to take of next Friday and the Tuesday after the bank holiday to try and get some decorating done. That means a hell of a lot of clearing out - mainly all stuff that my mother has horded and seems extremely loathe to get rid of. I am hoping that my brother the toad) and his friend want to earn some money next week, and will put laminate flooring down in the living room. This probably sounds like a big job, but, honestly, the initial clear-out (which will, undoubtedly be my job) is going to be a gazillion times harder. The laminate floor we have just locks in to place so there's nothing difficult about it. The toad's friend is a lovely guy, who just so happened to have completed a college course in carpentry, so I reckon I'm on to a winner here. The carpet is foul and really needs to go, but i want to paint the walls first so it doesn't matter if any spills. Ooooh, I'm getting shivers just thinking about being able to sweep and wipe instead of hoovering! This is exciting for me. Yes, I am sad.


It's all a load of rubbish
I read in the paper today that voters are in uproar about local councils dropping the weekly rubbish collection to fortnightly. Apparently, forty percent of councils are now collecting rubbish only twice a month. From Northampton to Devon, councillors are fighting to reinstate weekly refuse collection, for fears over hygiene - people have reported an increase in rat sightings, as well as flies and maggots, and nasty smells. And we live in a civilised country? It really is so disgusting, and made even more so with the warm weather we've been having recently. Apparently this will persuade more people to recycle, as opposed to just throwing things out. Bollocks to that. I have a green wheelie bin for recyclables and a brown one for refuse. Dutifully, all my paper, card, tins and plastics go in to my green wheelie bin, and everything else in to the brown one - no, apparently the London Borough of Sutton do not recycle glass, so that I have to take to a bottle bank myself. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I really cannot imagine the council paying for people to go through the wheelie bind, separating all the different materials for recycling. And, to be honest, if they are then they have waaay too much money. I was in Australia last month, and not only do they use re-usable bags for their shopping (for everything from food to clothes, and ALWAYS available as an alternative to plastic bags) but they also have separate crates for tins, plastic, glass and the like, and the councils COLLECT EVERY DARN WEEK. How have we managed to go so horribly wrong?


Green, green, green!
But it's not simply rubbish collection. In the Government's 'go green' drive, they are preventing people from travelling. Quite literally. Good ole' Gordy brings in an illegal tax on those travelling by air. Nice. Fortunately, Qantas were good enough to not charge me this extra money for my flight. The thing is, that the debt we keep hearing that the Government has gotten itself in to seems to have driven The Powers That Be absolutely insane. The congestion charge was only the start of it. Red Ken mis-matched all the lights in the zones he wanted to charge drivers for, then brings in the charge, and amazingly, the lights are phased back. Of course, it must have been the congestion charge that sorted out the traffic! And now the Commie is up to his old tricks again. Our mayor has taken it upon himself to remove the contra-flow lane in the Blackwall tunnel that has served as the only way for a huge volume of motorists to come in to the city for nearly 30 years. Now, many of these people are having to go through Greenwich. And guess where Ken has set his sights on extending the congestion charge to??

The congestion charge is supposed to force more people on to public transport, making London a greener city. Instead, the rail services are a mess. The monopolisation of track ownership has been costly to only the customer. Commuters who pay £2000+ per year on rail travel are supposed to expect not to have a seat on their train, while there are untold numbers of empty, unused carriages that the private companies cannot afford to rent from the Government. Fantastic. I really despise all these Labour-ites who blame the state of the rails on Maggie. It is the current government who makes it nigh on impossible to run trains. And yet the price of the trains is ever-increasing. To combat this, in my local area, Kenny-boy has taken it upon himself to hand out 100,000 free Oyster cards, (they usually cost £3) each loaded with £5. (Personally, I think this is all part of Labour's plan to build a master database, seeing as people will have to sign up to the Oyster system - handing over their details - as opposed to just being handed them). Ken actually believes that handing the people of Sutton £5 of travel, (which incidentally is only 5 bus journeys, or not even 4 tube journeys, and cannot be used to travel to the majority of the London over-land railway stations) is going to get people "out of their cars and on to public transport".

Bollocks, bollocks bollocks to it all.



Rant over.

Lonely heart

I find the lonely hearts ads in the papers so sad to read. People actually spend money having their 'GSOH', the fact that they have their 'OHAC', (own home and car) publicised. Sweet Lord. Surely these poor people haven't exhausted each and every avenue when it comes to meeting someone new? Even Internet dating has to be better than that. Instead of placing an ad in the local rag, in the hope that you will find 'The One'? Is there really any such thing as 'The One' anyway? You know, the one person that one individual who will be your partner for life, who will love and support you unconditionally - The One who 'completes' you. So many people Go looking for 'The One'. I mean, actively looking. As in, they actually won't settle for anyone else, because of course they will just know when 'The One' happens to come along. They will simply know, without actually having to know the person. In fact, according to some we are actually 'genetically encoded to seek The One'. I have seriously never heard such bullshit. I note that the author does not back up this statement with proof of any kind, nor does the author state where they got this little gem.

Do we really, seriously have one person for with whom we are destined to be? The one person to whom no one else can even begin to compare? The one who makes all other romantic relationships utterly pointless and insignificant because you are instead wasting your time and not looking for 'The One'? Can all bad relationships be simplified to the point where, that person was not The One so it obviously wasn't going to work out?

I have had my share of bad relationships. Some really bad. But I don't put that down to the fact that they weren't The One. I've just been unlucky. Yes, maybe some time in the future I will find a guy who is so completely someone I could spend the rest of my life with, who is the Yin to my Yang. But do I seriously think that there is only one person in the entire world who fits this mould? No sirree. Believing that and then acting on those beliefs, well, I may as well just shoot myself in the foot. Right now, I'm looking for a nice boy to have fun with. If I'm still single in 20 years, then yes, I will probably look for someone I can spend the rest of my days with so that I don't die a sad lonely old spinster. But I do not believe that there is only one person with whom I can happily spend the rest of my life with. People who believe this are stupid. How can they be so stupid?

Rant over.

I can't stand the raaaiiin, against my window

I could not for the life of me remember who sang that. But, the wonder that is Google - I really do not know what I would do without it - has just told me that it is Tina Turner. Good Google. The weatherman warned me last night that the beautiful weather we have been having would not be around for the next few days, and that we would end up seeing much in the way of rain for the next few days. But, seeing as you can never trust the weatherman, I came out to work in my Birkenstocks. And it rained. Not very hard, or very much, but enough to give you that yukky damp feeling.


My life is soon to be complete

I got a text message from my hairdresser friend this morning asking me if I want her to pick up my GHDs today, as she's coming over tonight. I am so excited I don't think it has quite hit me. I am soon to own the mother (and father, and brother and sister) of ALL straightening irons. At a price of only £100 for the newest model. Granted, £100 for hair appliances is absolute extortion, however, I have wanted a pair of these babies for approximately 5 years and now that I am able I am damn well going to purchase some! The excitement is overwhelming - I am shaking at the thought of having the ability to make my hair as sleek as I wish in no time at all. No, I am not sad.


Michael Jackson

On another note, I lost my kitten last week. He is all black with a few white hairs on his chest and his name is Michael Jackson. No, this is not some cruel twist of fate whereby he was born part albino or anything. Michael Jackson was born about a month prem. along with his sister who turned in to this huge, fluffy tortoisheshell with the temperament of a ragdoll. Anyhow, the little girl was snapped up straight away, leaving me with this nasty little runt with a head far too big for his body. At this point (over Christmas) my entire family were all in Australia, where my brother found that a rather large Huntsman lived in the bathroom. So ugly was this spider apparently, (more like my brother was just petrified of it) that they called him Michael Jackson. (Michael Jackson Mark I, the spider died in February apparently). So, I had this tiny little thing (who could in no way be likened to a cat) with a huge head and long skinny legs and fur that stuck up all over the place and who crept around like a sneaky spider, that I decided to call him Michael Jackson (Mark II). Well, it had to be better than E.T. as I had taken to calling him.
Anyhow, Michael Jackson sneaked off out through the cat flap last Wednesday evening, and had not returned home by Thursday morning. You've got to remember that this is a tiny little cat, who does not look at all like he is 6 months old. Eventually, after looking everywhere for him, my mum found him cowering under an industrial-size rubbish bin outside the school next door. The relief was immense when he was home. He seemed absolutely petrified after his excursion, and he was cooed over and fed yummy cat treats and ham and given milk. And after his fill, the little fucker tried to get out again. No way. He's absolutely full of it, that cat. And to top it off he's a thief. And an omnivore. In fact, I think he truly is more rat than cat. He eats cheese. And sweetcorn. And chocolate (he had a wa-hey hey of a time over Easter). And baked beans. He just loves baked beans. This is as well as his food and stealing food from the dog.

Anyhow, Michael Jackson now has a new collar. It is bright red with a bell, so not only can you see him but you can also hear him. His new trick is to sit on his arse and pretend to scratch when, in fact, all he does is spin his collar round and round and round his neck making a noise with the bell. He seems to like it anyway, and it's so funny to watch.


I have a stupid meeting at 1pm which I am most certainly not looking forward to in the slightest. I suppose I should go and prepare so at least it seems like I know what the hell I'm talking about.

There is a retard on acid holding a hammer to your brain

My boss has just played this song, performed by Dark Meat. There's a lot of heavy drumming in it. If you like this one, you should try tracks by another band called Cattle Decapitation, such as "Bludgeoned, Beaten and Barbecued" from their album Human Jerky. My boss doesn't really like them, however, upon looking at their website he has noticed that they are playing at The Underworld in Camden on May 21st, and thinks that we should all go. No. This is not a good idea. I have seen the lyrics. I have listened to the tantalizing snippet Amazon so kindly has available. I have read some of the lyrics. I mean, when you write lyrics like,

Fattened for slaughter.
Unknowingly feasting on the
ground up brains of their kind.
Cannibal Cattle Plague

Carnivorous humans die!

(from the song "Mad cow conspiracy (bloated bovine - home to flies and Anthrax spores")) you can't seriously be mentally stable, can you?

Anyhow, enough of weird vegetarians and their crazy lyrical issues.

15.51 I am currently on the phone to British Airways for the second time. I have just got past the automated woman. For the second time. The first time, after being on hold for 15 minutes, I finally got through to someone, who had to talk to the credit card holder to ensure I could, in fact, cancel the flight. Instead of putting the woman on hold, my boss proceeded to hang up on her. Now, I am waiting for someone to answer the phone.

15.59 I am now on the phone to someone else at BA and we have to go through the whole rigamarole again.

Oh dear, everything's kicking off here. Will write more tomorrow.

Acta non verba

Well, the sun is shining and it has turned in to a truly beautiful day. I was beginning to think the Met Office was for once telling us the truth about the weather...
The weekend was pretty good, despite being ill. I went to have a couple of drinks with some friends, and it would have been absolutely fantastic had Mr L not been there. With afore-mentioned baggage. I actually haven't gone in to any detail whatsoever regarding this baggage, and do not feel it appropriate. Yet. Anyhow, I woke up on Sunday to find he had sent me 5 messages during the night. That is just wrong, don't you think? Somehow, and I really do not understand how this came about, the sneaky bastard has ensured that I am meeting him for lunch on Friday. I just don't get it. I have used so much energy trying to keep out of his way and not have to see him, and now I have to sit across a table from him, spending the only hour I will have to myself all day. Bastard.

Work has been pretty slow today. As was yesterday. The new fiscal year is taking a while to get started. No doubt next week I shall be rushed off my feet. Far too busy to even contemplate having lunch with anyone. Well, no, that's a lie. If the cute guy with no hair who works on the floor below me were to ask me to lunch, I'd be off in a flash. However, he managed to lose a hell of a lot of money last week and apparently is lucky he still has his job. Not big and not clever. I really would hate to work in a commission-based job. I know, I know, when you do well, you earn lots and lots of money and can buy pretty, shiny new toys and all sorts. But, what happens when you have a dry spell and you're scraping the pennies together to pay your rent? No sirree, that is most certainly not my bag. One other plus in The Cutie's favour is that he too smokes. I know this is not good, and that I really should not be wishing a slow, painful, torturous death full of black tar and emphysema and cancer-related symptoms, but it does make me feel slightly less of a pariah.



The sticks of death...

Yes, cigarettes are bad (m'kay?) and yes, I am smoking myself in to an early grave, but do all you do-gooders who have never drunk, never smoked, never had an ounce of fun in your entire, miserable and meaningless lives know how truly difficult it is to kick such a habit? Something that has, quite literally, been a part of you for years and years (what with all the toxins and tar molecules attaching themselves to your alveolar sinews and swimming around in your very life-blood? No. I didn't think so. Nicotine molecules have been swooshing through my veins and in to my brain about ten times a day (even more so if I happen to be imbibing on the poison that is alcohol) for the past 7 years or so. I have been carrying the fuckers around with me for seven God-damn years, and to suddenly let go IS VERY FUCKING DIFFICULT! What I'm getting at is, do NOT shove your "smoking is going to make you and every other creature within a million mile radius infertile" crap. I know! I'm going to die, and guess what? You're not! Unless you don't shut the hell up, because I will blow my poisonous, toxin-filled smoke in your face and take you with me. Schadenfreude.


Autobiography... (I took this from a well-known networking site)

1.Where did you take your last pic?
In the pub - my friends and I were trying to see who could do the best monkey impression.

2.What exactly are you wearing right now?
Dark jeans, Quiksilver sweater that a lovely Kiwi in Australia gave me, Birkenstocks.

3.What is your current problem?
How to get out of lunch on Friday with Mr L without causing a scene or unnecessary upset.

4.What makes you happy most?
Lots and lots of sunshine. Holidays. My family.

5.What's the name of the song that you're listening to?
The stupid recurring music played on Bloomberg (Sky channel 502, yes, I am sad). Some of us have to WORK, you know?

6.Any celeb you would marry?
Ian McKellen. But unfortunately he's 70 and gay.

7.Name someone with the same birthday as you?
My cousin Jambie. Jamie Theakston. Samuel L. Jackson. Kiefer Sutherland.

8.Ever sang in front of a large audience?
Well, I tried.

9. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Nope.

10.Do you still watch kiddie movies or kiddie TV shows?
I do tend to pull out the VCR and Thundercats cassettes every now and again. They don't make them like they used to.

11. Do you speak any languages?
Spanish and a bit of German.

12. Has anyone you've been really close with passed away?
Too many.

13.Do you ever watch MTV?
No

14.What's something that really annoys you?
Staunch Labour supporters. Ken Livingston.

Chapter 1:
===============

1.Middle name:
Jane

2.Nickname(s):
Em, Emmish, EJ, Sausage

3.Current location:
Strand, London WC2

4.Eye color:
Blue.

Chapter 2:
===============

1.Do you live with your parent(s):
Until I can afford not to

2.Do you get along with your parent(s):
Very much so

3.Are your parents married/separated/divorced
My mom is a widow

4.Do you have any Siblings?:
Two brothers. Oh, what wouldn't I give to be an only child? Me me me me me!

Chapter 3: Favorites
===============

1. Ice Cream:
Not really an ice cream fan. Especially if it's on a stick. Yuk.

2. Season:
Summer for sure.

3.Shampoo/conditioner:
Aussie moisturising ones. Mmmm..

Chapter 4: Do You..
===============

1.Dance in the shower?
All the time.

2.Do you write on your hand?
Unfortunately. And usually with ink that seeps its' sneaky way in to the very deepest pores it can find. So even when you draw blood because you're scrubbing so hard, you look like you haven't washed. I am not a scaff. I just tend to do silly things, OK?

3.Call people back:
Try to...

4.Believe in love:
For other people, yes.

6. Any bad habits?
Posting on this blog when I really should be being productive. Smoking.

7. Any mental health issues:
Not that I'm aware of.


Chapter 5: Have You..
===============
1.Broken a bone:
Many a time.

2.Sprained stuff:
Yup

3.Had physical therapy:
Sounds exciting! But, if that means physiotherapy, as in post-surgery/accident therapy, then yes.

4. Gotten stitches:
Nope.

5.Taken painkillers:
Er... Do old people all decide to hit the supermarket on a Saturday, generally the one day that everyone who is at work all week can go? Yes. I live for painkillers.

6. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling:
Nope.

7.Been stung by a bee:
It was most certainly a bee that got me... Bastard

8.Thrown up at the dentist:
Yuck, no way.

9.Sworn in front of your parents:
All the time

10. Had detention:
Once. And it still haunts me so don't go there.

11.Been called a hoe:
Hahaha all the time

Chapter 6: Who/What was the last
===============
1.Movie(s):
Happy Feet

2.Three people to text you:
I have no one next to me. It seems most of my colleagues have prior engagements. Either that or I smell.

3. Person you called:
Home.

4.Person you hugged:
My brother

5.Person you tackled:
My other brother

6. Person you talked to on IM?
Can't remember, have been avoiding it for weeks...

7.Thing you touched:
The telephone.

8. Thing you ate?
Quavers.

9.Thing you drank:
Coffee

10.Thing you said:
"I'm tied up on the other line. Can you Yahoo it to me?"

11.Person you kissed:
My Mother. On the cheek to say thanks for the lift to the train station.



The last question makes me think that I really do need to get a life. And some new friends too, seeing as mine all live hundreds of miles away.
And now it's 17.22 and very nearly time to go home. Where I have the joy of preparing dinner, washing up and getting everyone ready for the morning. I really do need a life.

Back to it!

Chocolate, chocolate chocolate

4 days off. Fantastic! Not that I actually did anything worth talking about, but hey. It was just so nice to have time off to recharge and chill out a bit. After working pretty much a fifty hour week, you do tend to get a little sleepy. I also had a message from Mr L on Saturday. All it said was "Hi". Nothing else. The likelihood of me responding was pretty slim anyway, but what on earth is one meant to say to that? What a waste of a text message. No news, nothing interesting. Just the shortest and probably most boring word imaginable. Needless to say, I didn't reply.
I did, howsomever, spend the weekend eating chocolate as if it was going out of fashion. I felt sick at more than one point and think that my arteries are now lined thickly with cocoa. Nice. I do love chocolate though.

The news over the past couple of months has been horrendous, what with the string of young kids being stabbed. And then on Saturday another boy was killed. He was only 14. And he was killed by a 13 year old. I don't care what people say but I do not agree that it is all due to how
badly black youths are treated, and how they feel they have to turn to gangs for 'father figures' and to feel 'safe'. Bollocks. These kids think it's cool to hang aroung in groups and torment others, carry knives, act like idiots. The only thing is, I haven't yet come up with a way to solve the problem.



Work again

Tuesday was slightly fraught. Our CEO is over from the States so everyone is on their best behaviour. Where we would normally wear jeans and dress casually, everyone is in suits and smart clothes. He was meant to show up yesterday but was jet-lagged, so was here today. I'd never met him before, but found him quite amiable. He's one of these larger than life characters and was already giving us a grilling having only been here for about ten minutes. Anyhow, we're all off to the Savoy Grill for dinner tonight which should be good. Yummy!

Oh dear, oh dear

Well, it's my third day as a permanent employee. Nothing has changed from when I was a temp, really. Things are hectic. The auditors are in, so I haave the guys in the States chasing me every day for some invoice or other. In fact, I have one of them on the IM now asking about a computer. It just seems non stop, but I'm loving it! However, a 4 day weekend is just what I need right now. I get to work at 7.30am and don't leave til 5.30 which makes it rather a long day. Not to mention, the number 11 bus to Victoria never runs on time, so it's a bit hit-and-miss whether I make my train or not. Usually I get home just before 7, which leaves me little time to do everything I really should do in the evening. I've been really lax with my gym visits recently, which I really shouldn't be. So, this weekend is going to be one long gym-fest. I'm determined to do 8 hours in there between Friday and Monday. Says she sitting at her desk looking longingly at a Mars bar. Even though it's wrapped in a carrier bag. Hmmm.


Guilt messages

After seeing Mr L at the pub over the weekend, where he was particularly 'civil', for want of a better word, I've had pretty much constant text messages from him. You know, the messages that make you feel like a terrible, terrible person. He keeps saying he loves me, and how he only wants what makes me happy, whether that's with or without him. He's thinking of me. He can't understand why I have gone cold (which, I might add, I have not. I just do not feel that endless text messages are appropriate!) It's literally like a barrage of words. It feels as if he is backing me in to a corner, trying to make me feel like the bad guy, when in fact the real reason I don't want this is because he's married. There. I've said it. Mr L is married. No, we haven't slept together. And that's only because I refuse to let that happen. We were never even 'together'. I didn't get too attached for the reason that it is just plain wrong. I really do not care how crap his marriage is, or how he is starting divorce proceedings or any of that. I am 22 and have other things to focus on, without helping make his marriage worse and getting in to a relationship with so much excess stuff. God, I sound like such a bitch. I just don't know how to word this debacle. There is no nice way to put it.


Networking

While Mr L has been bothering me, I have been trying to take my mind off things, and have joined a networking site that all my uni friends are part of too. I thought it was just a fantastic way to keep in touch and find out what's going on. Until I realised just how many people use it, and now I just think it is absolutely incredible! I have not only got in touch with people from school that I haven't seen in four years, but also people from my primary school! I mean, we're talking 11 or 12 years since I've seen some of these people! It is fantastic, and also a great way to keep/get back in touch with people.


Easter

And now, on my way home, I am going to stop off at Paperchase. I bought my colleague's two children each an egg for Easter, and I want to try and find some of those little furry yellow chicks so I can decorate them.

I, however, will NOT be eating chocolate eggs, as I will be far too busy in the gym.

PS... I'm still trying to figure out how to work the blog thing, so please be patient! This is me with two of my cousin's little girls at my uncle's wedding.

Woohoo!

Work!
So, it's my first day as a PERMANENT employee. And after months and months of searching for a job (apparently companies generally do NOT want to employ bright, intelligent, dependable young graduates with good degrees from Red Brick universities) I am finally officially permanent. Yay! I've been working for these guys (through a temp agency) for over six months now, and I know the job inside out, but, now I have business cards. Actual business cards, with my name on and everything. The opportunities are absolutely fantastic, I love the guys I work with, the money's good and I have so much responsibility. Things are great!


And then the rest...
Now, I just need to sort the rest of my life out. My 'romantic' life is an absolute mess, and, until I get paid at the end of the month, so is my financial one.
I broke up with Mr Misery at the beginning of January. He's a depressive. Seriously. Nothing good could happen (to him, or anybody else) without there being a negative side to it. It ended up depressing me. Not just that, but apparently the world owed him, and anyone who had more than him, or was happier than him was just lucky. He rarely had one nice word to say about anyone, and was probably one of the most selfish people I have ever met. I thought I could fix him, but obviously not. Instead, after nearly a year, I just had to get out. And I did. E-mail is not even remotely how I suggest anyone should end their relationship, but the thought of the crying and guilt-trip I would have to endure was just too much to take.

There never was anyone else. Not really anyway. Mr Misery and I were never going to last. In fact, I'm not the only one who was surprised we were together so long. I just really couldn't stand the thought of the guilt-trip if and when I finally called it off. Else I would have been single by September. However, there was/is Mr L. Which, again, I have called off. He means the world to me, and by the sounds of things I mean the same to him. But he's attached and things are too complicated. He's also quite a bit older than me which doesn't make matters any better. I saw him on Saturday night at our local and things were awkward. I know how he feels and he knows how I feel, but no-one else in there does, which is a feat in itself. He's not happy that I've called things off, but I refuse to be a his bit on the side, and am in no position to deal with all his baggage as well as my own. So, I am officially single.

And right now it's the best thing. At least I think so anyway.

And there's a really nice guy who works downstairs. For now he shall be known as The Cutie..

12 Things

1. I live in London, but not in the centre. I hate great hordes of people, especially tourists. You know, the ones who amble around as if everyone wants to walk slowly. NEWSFLASH: After a long day at work, I do like to get home. As soon as possible. I do not take kindly to being held up by groups of 5 tourists walking with their arms linked, forming some great, big barrier. I do, however, find it funny walking right up behind them and shouting "excuse me!" very loudly. It makes me laugh.

2. I spent the first 10 years of my life growing up in Argentina. This has made me who I am today. My first language was Spanglish.

3. My English is quite Anglo-american, (I say 'sidewalk' instead of 'pavement' with a proper English accent.. You walk on the side of the road. You know it makes sense) although I have a feeling I'm becoming more Anglo all the time.

4. I am not well travelled enough. I have visited four continents, and have run out of space in my passport 3 times in 4 years. But there is always so much to see and do, with never enough time.

5. I have a passion for cars. I follow Formula One religiously, watch and participate (occasionally) in stock car races and renovate cars for fun.

6. My family and friends are my life. This is probably after growing up in a Latin country. You don't seem to see much of that same feeling here. For example, there are very few old people's homes in Argentina. Children are more likely to give up their job to look after the sick/elderly parent that made them, carried them and kept them than palm them off somewhere else.

7. I love my job. I do not dread mornings, or any morning for that fact. I do not mind early starts and late finishes. I love Mondays.

8. I read a lot. All the time, in fact. I draw the line at chick-flick type romaces about shopping and manicures, but frequently read popular novels, as well as re-reading the Classics. I love Maeve Binchy, Stephen King, Thomas Harris, Dickens, Austen, the Bronte sisters, Hardy, Darwin and then some.

9. When I was young, all I wanted to be was a Saint when I grew up (Catholicism does all sorts of strange things to you). Then (much) later when I understood that they do not 'climax' (hey, this is a clean(ish) blog) I changed my mind. Now, I am aiming at becoming a trader. That way, I can retire early and go and live in a treehouse somewhere far, far away.

10. I have a 2.i BSc in Zoology with Honours. I love science, in particular Biology and the Theory of Evolution, even though I am not particularly good at it.

11. I paint, draw, take photographs, sew and print. I become extremely relaxed doing something 'arty'. And the extra money doesn't hurt at all.

12. I play a few instruments. I first learned guitar and banjo from my uncle and grandfather - pretty much before I could even wal. I have played jazz piano, sax and clarinet for years. I have never passed Grade 1 on any instrument because I cannot read music.