Sunday 4 November 2007

Chapter 4

In the time that followed, I did my best to forget about my strange phone call. I have to admit that for a few days, I felt quite shaken by the experience but as the days turned to weeks, although it still haunted me at night when I lay alone in my bed, I gradually began to let it go and I never mentioned it to anybody. Not even Anna. It wasn't until nearly a full month later, that I was forced to think properly about it again.

It was a Thursday. I can't remember the time but it was dark outside and the last rays of the dying sun had disappeared down behind the horizon. I was in my lounge, reading a book. It wasn't a very good book and I was considering just giving up with it and heading to bed. I'd had one of those days at work where time appears to be running at a snails pace, I was tired and my eyes hurt from spending too long in front of a computer screen.

I put my glasses down on the arm of my chair and pinched the skin between my eyes. Despite my lethargy, it was still too early for bed so I had about a half hour to fill before I settled down for the night. I didn't really want to turn on the television, in case I got absorbed in a programme or film and ended up staying up too late but I reached for the remote anyway.

The television flickered into life. Puzzled, I looked over at my hand. It was still stretching for the remote. I hadn't touched it or pressed any buttons, and yet the television was clearly on. It wasn't showing a picture, just fuzzy white snow and it was making a loud hissing noise.

I leaned forward, the remote firmly in my slightly sweaty palm by now, and continued to stare in a confused way at the familiar object that had, in the space of less than a minute, become a threatening stranger in my home. As I got closer to the screen a face appeared out of the fuzz. I couldn't make out any details, or the sex, but it was definitely a face with eyes, a nose and a mouth. It was looking straight at me. Not just in my direction but At Me. And also through me, as if it could see everything I had ever known or done. I was terrified and yet I wanted to know what was happening. It was my curiosity that stopped me running out the front door screaming like a madwoman.

"Who are you?" I whispered.
"You know who I am." the television hissed back at me.
"What do you want?" I could hear the shrillness in my voice, as if it were coming from another person and not out of my own mouth.
"You. You belong to us and we are coming for you. You have long been hidden from us and now we have found you. You must start saying your goodbyes child, it will not be long."

The television flicked off with a small bang and I found myself on the floor in front of the empty screen. I did not remember making my way across the room, all I could think about was that voice. It was different to the one on the phone, that one had been full of fear. This voice had not been afraid. Despite what it had said, I did not recognise it and the only thing that I knew for sure about it was that I did not want to meet the person, or thing, that it belonged to.

It was time, I thought, to find a good psychiatrist.

Saturday 27 October 2007

Chapter 3

You think you know where this is going.

Introverted, shy, retiring girl loses popular older sister in horrible, tragic accident. Spends rest of story on a voyage of self-discovery until finding 'herself' in the final chapter.

You are wrong.

In my story, nobody dies, least of all my sister. If I wanted, I could reach a hand out now to the black and white plastic telephone sitting on the desk beside me. I could lift the receiver, punch in a few numbers and in less than a minute I would be having a conversation. With Anna.

I just wanted you to understand me a bit better. Or understand the me that was at the beginning. She doesn't exist anymore but she was there for a very long time and I miss her terribly. Everything was so much simpler then. I knew who I was and where I came from. Life was a series of non-events, of day after day of the same things, same people, same circumstances. Now it's much more complicated.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I want you to know the ending, even though you haven't even seen the true beginning yet. I want you to know the truth. I want everybody to know the truth, even though it's painful to sit here and write it. It makes it even more real and as hard as stone.

It started with a phone call. On my black and white plastic telephone, on a Sunday afternoon in late April. It was a beautiful day, not yet warm enough to leave your coat at home but the sun was bright, and there were no clouds in the clear blue sky. I shouldn't have been at home. I should have been out enjoying the first day in weeks that wasn't overcast with a thick grey blanket and relentless drizzle. To this day, I wonder what would've happened if I'd decided to spend my Sunday doing something else. I don't think I could have avoided what followed, it would've found it's way eventually, but it might have been put off for a while and the girl that was would have lived a little longer.

I was in the kitchen, making a coffee. I had filled my cup with a spoonful of brown powder and was waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. When the ringing started, I thought for a moment about ignoring it completely. I then thought that if it was my mother, I had better get the conversation out of the way with. She used to call every Sunday and we would struggle through five minutes of having nothing to say to each other before our goodbyes. It was only out of duty to our blood ties that we spoke at all. A small part of me knew that she felt bad, somewhere deep down buried in the granite, she knew she had failed to be the mother that her children deserved. The weekly call was by way of an apology. She would never say she was sorry, but it was her way of showing that she did care and by picking up the receiver I was showing that I accepted her attempt at rebuilding the broken bridges.

I hurried through into the lounge, not wanting to have to call her back, and picked up the ringing beast.

"Hello." I waited for my mother's voice to reply. There was a long silence.

"They're coming" said a quiet, strange, almost strangled whisper that I did not recognise. I felt an icy finger run all the way down my spine and for an instant, the whole world stopped spinning on it's axis as I tried desperately to comprehend what on earth this could mean.

The phone started beeping angrily at me and I realised my caller had rung off. Gently, I returned the handset to it's cradle and walked slowly back into the kitchen to finish making my coffee.

Friday 19 October 2007

Chapter 2

I think the main reason I was always happy to be in the background was my sister. We'll call her Anna. That's not her real name, but it will do for my story.

Anna was a bitch.

I love her, I have always loved her dearly, but she was Hard Work. Three years older than me, effortlessly beautiful and slim and exciting and all those other words that I can't think of right now because I have always felt them and never said them out loud. She wasn't Hard Work for me, but for everybody else around her, she caused mayhem wherever she went.

When we were small, she used to look after me. Nobody would ever bully Anna's baby sister, not if they wanted a quiet life anyway. A boy pulled my hair at school once when I was about six. Anna punched him square in the face, breaking his nose in front of all his friends. She was suspended for a week and came back a hero. Nobody ever pulled my hair again. She was popular with a capital 'P' and in normal circumstances, it should have rubbed off my way. However, I reacted to her eternal sunshine by embracing her silhouette and was grateful, particularly at home, for the fact that people would forget I was there if she was. I loved the darkness almost as much as she loved the light and, I suppose, all those things They say about opposites getting along was more than true for us. With me she could be still, which wasn't something that happened very often. With her I could be loud. That didn't happen very often either. You would never have thought it had you known us, but behind closed doors we were closer than close.

My mother revelled in her wonderful daughter. She was always entering Anna for competitions and events, like she was some sort of pedigree show-dog. As far as my mother was concerned, I was irrelevant and I was left alone, until I fled the nest at sixteen, to do whatever I chose. My grades would never be as good as Anna's. I wasn't as pretty. I refused point blank to go to family gatherings and if forced would be a horrible, sullen embarrassment. My mother will never admit it to you, but she breathed a long sigh of relief the day I stopped darkening her doorstep.

Anna understood.

She knew that I wasn't like her and she didn't care. I've never met anybody as accepting and giving and loving as my sister and I never shall.

So I never had to be best, or first, or smarter because that was her job. I just existed and that was always enough. Enough for us, in any case.

My mother would disagree.

Wednesday 12 September 2007

Chapter One

I am not a very interesting person.

I never came first in a race. I never came top of my class. I never won an award. I never pushed to the front. I never tried to be noticed. I never succeeded. I was never the best dressed. I was never ahead of the pack. I was never first to be served. I was never a guy's first choice. I was never a girl's first choice. I was never the favourite. I was never remembered. I was never the first to know. I was never the earliest. I was never the latest. I was never mysterious. I never had the best haircut. I never had the worst haircut. I never slept with a virgin. I was never special. I was never called beautiful. I was never called upon to help.

I never made an impact. You probably went to school with me. You only vaguely remember though, maybe if you saw my face in a grainy old photo, you might be able to recall my name- but more than likely you wouldn't. You didn't Dislike me. You just don't remember me. I wasn't your first love or the ugly kid with glasses that you bullied mercilessly for four years. I just sat quietly, out of the way, getting on with things. We may have played together, outside on those long, dusty summer afternoons when you were so young that a day felt like it lasted for eternity. The sun would beat down on your freckled shoulders hot enough to burn, but back then, nobody called social services if you did. We would play hopscotch and marbles and tag and all those other normal childhood games that everybody remembers fondly.

Does that jog your memory?

I thought not. You had fun with me back then, but it was nothing special. The memory of me isn't precious to you. Nor should it be. I didn't really care too much for you either.

Or maybe I sat at the desk next to yours on your first 'proper' job. Sometimes I would do the coffee run, if I was asked by Nina from the second floor. You remember Her. The girl with legs so long she could have been part giraffe. And that shirt! So tight it was practically a miracle she was still breathing at the end of the day. But as for me? I sat next to you for two whole years, tapping away quietly on my keyboard. I went to every office party. I watched you knock back the free bubbly until you were brave enough to scurry off to the stationary cupboard with Nina in tow. You had one of those party hats shaped like an upside-down ice-cream cone on. It was red with a gold stripe. And when you came out of the cupboard, (to a round of drunken applause) it had tilted to one side like you were some sort of comical pirate. You remember That party. But you don't recall that I was there.

I am a shadow.

I never thought that I would ever be anything more than that. Existing on the outside of everyone else's lives. Watching. Waiting. And I never asked for anything more. I chose not to be like you. I chose not to show off. I chose not to make the effort. I was happy to observe whilst life sped by me, longing for the day when I could finally shut the door and never set a foot outside it again.

But then, something happened.

And this is where my story begins.

Sunday 19 August 2007

The Horror of Sunday Afternoon Football

This is my second Sunday off in a Very Long Time.

We are celebrating this momentous occasion by having the football on All Afternoon. This wasn't my idea. My girlfriend and her sister's boyfriend have decided that this is the best thing we could possibly be doing with our Sunday off. I admit that the weather isn't too good, which would limit the possibility of going out and enjoying the fresh air, but I don't think that's really a good enough excuse for sitting in all day shouting at the television.

I like football. Don't get me wrong, Nothing can equal the feeling that you get when you're standing at your home-team's ground, cheering them on with thousands of other people. Plus they do Bovril at football matches, which is something I really love. However, watching random teams I don't care about in our front room just isn't as exhilarating I'm afraid.
It just doesn't do it for me.

The other thing that's making my mood less than jovial today is that my new job starts tomorrow and I have to go and stay in another city for at least three days. Maybe five. Maybe more. They haven't decided yet.
I was So pleased to get this job, I never really believed that I could do it so it's been an incredibly pleasant surprise that I did. Even the interview went well and I felt like they were actually listening to me and giving me a chance- which obviously they are now prepared to stick their necks out for. I know I'm a little bit of a risk for them as I'm not quite as qualified as I perhaps could be for my new position. But I Am a hard worker, and I Do believe in working for a company that seeks to improve the lives of their customers, rather than strip them of every penny they've got. So all these things are quite positive. I'm just nervous of the great unknown. This is due to the fact that I'm a tiny weeny bit of a control freak. I know this. I don't like being put in situation where I can't see at least five steps ahead, so all this turmoil is no doubt purely psychological. Which doesn't really make me feel much better.

Oh well, I got what I wanted. Now I just have to work out what to do with it....

Saturday 18 August 2007

Writer's Block Is Pants

Hmmmm
I've really lapsed on my blog of late.

This is partly because of Facebook. I know I said it was rubbish but now I've got to grips with it, I've actually found that I enjoy using it, even if it is a bit complicated at times.

And part of it is that I truly can't think of anything much to write about. It seems that when I'm feeling good, all my creativity disappears off into the void and as I'm in such good spirits, it's not even that annoying.
Although, it has to be said that I wouldn't really wish bad things upon myself, just so I can write better as that would be stupid But, I do miss sitting down and ranting quietly into my computer keyboard.

I'm sure something will annoy me enough to get my brain back in gear again soon, but until then I don't think I'll be posting as much as I was before. July was obviously quite a stressful month for me!!

Thursday 9 August 2007

Am I The Only Person Who Thinks Facebook Is Rubbish?!

Now, I've had numerous problems since I became a Blogger.
I struggle with all this technical stuff, it's Really Difficult to get to the bottom of how things work. Or it is for little old me anyway.
Everyone I know and their granny keeps asking me if I'm on Facebook, and I wasn't but then I decided to give it a bash and signed up.
God, it's complicated.
Nothing is straightforward or easy to suss out, it makes Blogger look like finger-painting for monkeys.
And I had to make sure I 'blocked' my Evil Ex, which was more effort than I really wanted to make.
Ho-Hum.

I actually left the bingo hall yesterday. It was quite a sad occasion, and I have to confess to getting a bit upset at having to say goodbye to so many people that I will never see again. It was fairly weird and I don't really feel like I've left. I suppose it because I've been there for nearly seven years, so my whole life is going to change.

I got a new job. I can't remember if I mentioned it already but I got the one that I went to the interview for so I'm pretty excited. Not only is it actually doing something worthwhile, but I will be working from Monday to Friday between 9 and 5.30!!!

Woo-Hoo!!

I can't wait to get my social life back....

Not that it was ever really that great, but at least I had one.

Friday 3 August 2007

I'm A Big Old Skiver!

It's been a little while since my last post.

This is because I have been Very Busy doing Other Things.

This included buying and reading the final installment of Harry Potter. I read the whole thing in under twenty-four hours but obviously had to avoid the Internet after it was released as I didn't want to accidentally stumble upon anything that ruined the ending for me. People just don't care about how upsetting it is to have someone get in the way of discovering things for yourself. It drives me mad when people tell me how a book or films ends before I've seen it. Especially when it's something I've been looking forward to.

So anyway, that's part of my excuse.

I only have a few days left before I become unemployed so my soon to be ex-employers have been working my fingers to the bone. I think they're hoping all this hard work will actually kill me, which to them would be a fitting revenge for my leaving. Not that they're letting on that not having me there will cause all sorts of problems for them. They still haven't sent me a replacement to train, out of pure bloody-minded stubbornness. That would indicate that I am currently needed- and that's the last thing they want me to know. Stupid people. Am glad I'm leaving all this crap behind, I have to say.

Also, we got Sky Movies at home. And Sky Sports. Films and Cricket!!! Yay!!! It does mean that my eyes are slowly going square, and my already failing eyesight is suffering but I get to watch all the things I love, 24 hours a day.

Brilliant.

Oh, and I decided to try and finish knitting the cushion cover I started about four months ago. Yes, knitting is a hobby of mine. It keeps my hands busy and stops me eating/smoking/drinking myself into an early grave.

So that's why I haven't posted for a little while.
Plus there's still nobody reading this so it doesn't really matter.

Friday 20 July 2007

I (Still) Can't Sleep

It is 6am.

I haven't slept since yesterday morning.

I am very tired.

I can't even go for a jog to clear my fuzzy brain as it is raining heavily and the river will be flooded along my usual route. Plus I don't really want to get wet as I felt really fluey yesterday and the sniffles have only just started to subside.

I have written three posts today (or yesterday, whatever). Can you get addicted to blogging? Has got to be healthier than the cigarettes and vodka I guess....
I have been writing much more recently though. Not that anybody is reading it. I don't know whether I would be happy if lots of people read my blog.
Should I want them to?
I've left a couple of comments on others people's blogs but I always feel like an intruder when I do. Even though there are a few that I read regularly, and if you're posting something on a public forum, surely you expect some sort of feedback?!

My problem is, I don't really know anybody else who blogs, so I don't know what the 'Internet etiquette' system is. I have no idea what's acceptable and what's not. I don't know whether I should be 'getting out there' and 'networking' trying to make lots of new Internet buddies so we can visit each others blogs and get those stats up! Is that what people do? I just don't know.

I'm not really a particularly friendly person in the real world. Well, I am but not straight away. I don't make a warm and fluffy first impression. I am a very loyal and loving friend but I take my time getting to know people. You can't really do that here. Or you can, but the person you're getting to know has no idea that you spend ten minutes a day dipping into their life. I think that's why reading other people's blogs makes me feel a bit strange. It's fairly voyeuristic but not at the same time because you only get to see what they want you to see. You can make yourself sound like Really Great Fun when you're actually a systems analyst who knits and plays chess for kicks.

If anybody is reading this, I could really use some advice. Or just a bit of reassurance. Or a hello....

Don't Believe The Stereotype!!

As a gay woman, I really should know better than to believe in stereotypes regarding other 'social groups'.

I do not own a pair of dungarees. I do not wear lumberjack shirts. I don't have a man's hair-cut nor do I weigh twenty stone. I don't work as a bus driver. I don't live in Brighton. I don't drink lager in a tankard. I avoid starting fights with large men if they throw a sideways glance at my girlfriend when we're out in public. Nobody has, to my knowledge, mistaken me for a boy recently.
In fact there is very little, in my outward appearance, to suggest that I might be gay. (I prefer that term to 'lesbian' as that word is so very synonymous to me of all the things that I am not.)

So you would think that I would avoid using stock stereotypes when it comes to making important decisions about other people.

Unfortunately for us, when my girlfriend and I first moved in together, we got ourselves a flatmate. We couldn't stay in my old flat as my Evil Ex wouldn't give me his key back or sign off the joint bank account until I signed the paperwork to give my notice to leave it. Ho Hum. Anyway, as our flatmate was a gay man, I stupidly assumed that he would be fastidious about housework, a great cook And incredibly tasteful and stylish when it came to decorating.

Not so.

He was the biggest, fattest, laziest slob I've ever met. His contribution to personalising the flat was a collection of nasty, cheap ceramic tigers, all of which were huge and a display cabinet held together with bits of gaffa tape and tin foil. Even now I have nightmares about those damn ugly tigers. Ugh.
He never once cleaned the bathroom or the kitchen. We would go out to work in the morning, leaving the flat clean and tidy. When we got home, he would have used every single plate, pot, pan, bowl and item of cutlery in our absence. Along with about a litre of cooking oil scorched on to the hob.
It was awful.

Then he got a boyfriend. The boyfriend was married with children. I'm not a hugely judgemental person (we All f*ck up from time to time) but they used to sit slagging his wife off something chronic. It made my blood boil because although she may well have been Attila The Hun, having the husband that you've invested half your life with running off with another man is just Not Nice. And it made me uncomfortable to hear my flatmate moaning about the time his new-found beau would spend with his children. The whole situation was pretty yucky.
The two of them were as vile as each other when it came to hygiene. And they were on My computer all day and night (until I removed all the wires from it one evening when they'd pissed me off one time too many). The new boyfriend didn't contribute anything to the household bills for Two Months. He was quite happy to drain all the resources, but when it came to paying for them it was a different story. To top it off, the original flatmate decided to quit his job and go unemployed for a while, so they got even worse with the bill-paying.

One day, we dropped home from work on our lunch-break. It was unplanned, I'd forgotten something or was waiting on a letter, I forget exactly why now. Our two Evil flatmates were loading their possessions (along with some of ours) into a van. And looking rather shocked to see us!
They pretty much screwed us over, and to this day still owe me about £800. I'll never get it back but I heard recently that Mr Married went back to his (clearly stupid) wife which is revenge enough for me.

The moral of the story is, don't let your brain trick you into believing in stereotypes. Because in life, these stock characters just don't exist. I'm sure there are gay men out there who have beautiful, well kept homes (I actually know several) but if you choose to share your home with one, check out his current address first. He might just turn out to be a pig in diva's clothing!

Thursday 19 July 2007

I Hate It When I Get What I Want.....

I now have a job interview on Monday morning.

I am Very Scared.

It has been a year since my last job interview, and the last one I had didn't go very well.
This was largely because it was for a job within the gaming industry, and the people who were interviewing me had no intention of giving me the job I'd applied for as it transpired they were actually only promoting internally, but had to offer the job outside the company to fulfill legal requirements. And they were blatantly Office people who asked me questions like-

"When was the last time that you were part of an award-winning team!"

And didn't ask me questions about all the relevant experience that I had. Or the fact I was already in possession of most of the certificates that the other candidates would be gaining whilst in their new position. Needless to say, it left me feeling Very Annoyed that although I was apparently the Most Intelligent Person ever to take their stupid literacy and numeracy tests, (Oh yes, this was the longest, most drawn out interview process I have Ever been through) according to them, I had the Best test results they had Ever seen in the whole history of recruiting people into their corporate evil empire, I was still not good enough. And this was for a job that, on paper, I was so horribly overqualified for it was ridiculous.
They Did offer me a large number of other positions, and I got a bit of revenge by stringing them along for a few months, getting them to up their offers several times before I turned them down. They messed me about, and being able to say thanks but no thanks at the end after they attempted to con me into a position that was quite a bit back down the ladder from where I'd already worked my backside off to get to, was ultimately a hollow victory. But it made me feel a bit better at the time.

That experience has left me a bit wary of being interviewed again although, as I will be unemployed in three weeks time, I am going to have to bite the bullet and go for as many as I possibly can. I've been applying for jobs for a few months now, and this is the first one to offer me an interview. I really want the job too. It's not like its just a boring desk job, it's fairly similar to what I do now, only without the gambling. It's basically helping disadvantaged people find work. I won't actually be doing that, but I'll be manning the front desk with a fair bit of autonomy within my little domain. I get to refill the coffee machine and everything! I haven't described it very well but, it suits my ethics and I'll actually get to speak to people and organise things, which is exactly what I've been looking for.

I just hope that I'm actually being given a chance and am not just a statistic so that they get to tick a little box and stop a man from the government coming round to tell them off......

Wednesday 18 July 2007

The Cat Fantastique!

When I am reincarnated, (if that's what happens, which is a Whole different post in itself) I would like to come back as a cat.

Cats are easily my favourite animals (apart from maybe koala bears but apparently you can't have a koala as a pet in Britain. Or maybe you can but Pets at Home don't stock them). I've always had a pet cat, except when our family cat died when I was thirteen, and we were all too distraught to get another one for a few years. I got another kitten when I was about twenty, and had started working. She is apparently the most destructive cat my mum has Ever had. She breaks stuff if she doesn't get her own way. Like if it's raining and she wants to go outside, which is Obviously my mum's fault. I left home at twenty-four (don't laugh) and had to leave her with my parents as my Evil Ex (more of him another time) didn't want her to come and live with us because he was "allergic" to cats. It transpired he wasn't allergic at all, just a complete twat.
A Tip- If you are in a relationship with somebody who doesn't like animals of any kind, it's pretty much doomed to fail. In my experience, people who don't like animals always turn out to be Evil in some way. It's True.

Anyhoo, I had a couple of cat-free years until last Autumn when my girlfriend said it was OK for us to get one as-

a) our Evil gay flatmates (who didn't like cats) had done a runner and,
b) it was our anniversary and she wanted to do something to make me happy.

So we went through the free-ads and went to the first people who had kittens for sale that actually bothered to answer their phone.

When we got there I decided in about three seconds that I had to rescue at least one kitten from that house. It was filthy. There were a number of animals there including a dog, several cats and a large parrot that kept saying "Bastard". They gave me one of the bedraggled kittens to hold and she just sat there. She smelt Really Bad and was soaking wet. Normally, a kitten in a happy home won't sit still for a nanosecond but she didn't budge an inch. There was also a boy but he disappeared behind the washing machine and they couldn't get him out.

The thing that shocked me was that they wanted £60 for each kitten. We tried to haggle (which is something my girlfriend is normally Really Good at) but they wouldn't budge on the price. If they had been cheaper, I would've taken them both but we couldn't afford that much. To this day, I feel terrible that I didn't rescue that little cat. I do hope he found a happy home with people that actually gave two shits about him. These people made me really cross. They already clearly had a moggy that they had not bothered to get spayed. Unless you are a breeder, there is No Excuse for this. The resulting babies were simply money to them. People like these should be put in the stocks so the rest of civilised society can throw mouldy fruit at them. They should be Ashamed!

So we took the little girl and she is now our baby. She is currently sound asleep on the sofa behind me. We also have a hamster at home. We keep them separate although, weirdly, the hamster seems to take immense pleasure in winding the cat up, if she's around. Guaranteed, if the kitten's in our room, the hamster will do a full gymnastic display until we take her out again. This is probably because the hamster secretly knows that the cat is a complete wimp, whereas the hamster has the morals of a serial killer. She really is brutal, although she likes me, nobody else is allowed to try and put their hands in her cage. Not if they want to keep all their fingers in any case.

Our pets are spoilt, I confess. The cat is getting fatter by the day and has the most advanced array of cat-toys and gadgets you've Ever seen. Our friends have children with less stuff. I don't care though, if you're going to have a pet, it's your responsibility to make sure they have a happy and fulfilled life. Even the hamster eats organic!

So I'd like to be a cat next time around. It's the whole eat, sleep, eat, play, sleep, eat, sleep, play thing that does it for me. And my cat always gets her own way (apart form when she wants to chew the wires behind the TV). And she is loved very much.

Sounds like Heaven if you ask me!

I Can't Sleep!

It is about 3.20am.

I have to get up at 8.30am for work.

For the third night in a row, I will get maybe 4 hours sleep- IF I am lucky.
Today, I am not loving my insomnia.....

I'm so tired.

Boo-Hoo.

Monday 16 July 2007

I Ain't Boverd!

Catherine Tate is currently on the TV, which you may be surprised to learn is where I got the inspiration for my post title today. Or Not.

Yesterday, I had too much to say and too little time. Today I still have much to say but since I sat down at my computer, my brain seems to have gone out for a walk or something. It's not often that I am stuck for words.

I Did hand my notice in though. I was brave and have spent most of today feeling oddly relieved that the end is in sight for my appallingly bad job. Hurrah! I can't wait to get out of there and into the Big Wide World. It's Very Exciting. And also Really Scary.
Most people will tell you that you should never leave a job until you get another one. I've been applying for jobs and nobody wants me yet so I'm just going to have to keep my fingers crossed that something comes up. In actual fact, I've always left my previous jobs before I've got another one. Nothing will motivate you in quite the same way fear does. It'll make you actually bother going to the Job Centre or fill in that thirtieth form. It certainly works for me anyway. For me, having some sort of Real motivation that goes beyond the fact that something is merely annoying or a nuisance, is paramount to my getting off my arse. Because I kinda like sitting on it unfortunately.

I have no idea what I want to do though, which may cause a few problems down the line. All I do know is that I don't want to work weird hours any more. My sleep pattern is more erratic than ever at the moment, and I don't know how much more of it I can cope with. So 9 to 5 is about the only thing I care about. And No More Weekends! I've done my fair share for this lifetime I think.....

Sunday 15 July 2007

I Don't Believe In Being Brave....

I've done it.

Or should I say, I'm doing it tomorrow.

I am handing in my notice, and waving good-bye to the bingo hall Forever!!
As I don't yet have a job to go to, I am A Bit Scared, but am sure it will be OK.....

I figured it was time to Just Do It, and to be honest, I always walk the tight-rope better without a safety net so am feeling weirdly positive about risking becoming an unemployment statistic. I'm going to write a proper post tomorrow, when I actually have some time to but I just Had to write this down now as it is Very Important. To me, anyway...

Thursday 12 July 2007

I'm Having Some Technical Difficulty...

There is something wrong with my blog.

I don't know quite what to do with it though, it's Very Irritating.

Every time I log on, it's going back several posts and not showing my new ones until I click on 'July'. At first I thought they were just disappearing but they're not. I've said before that I find computers confusing. This is an example of my problem. Somethings not right, I don't know exactly what's wrong, and have no idea how to resolve this issue. It's probably because I got a bit overconfident with it and did a lot of fiddling around. It's probably broken somehow, and that would more than likely be my fault. But it might not be, it could just be my computer being possessed or some sort of programming problem. I have no idea.

I don't even know who I could ask. Not that I would, I can't face the patronising ridicule that you get when you ask somebody who understands these things what's gone wrong. So it'll have to stay broken I guess.....

Stupid Computer.

AAARRRGGHH!

I just wrote out a whole post and it dissappeared.

I am Very Annoyed.

Grrrr

Being Hungover Is Rubbish...

Yesterday I had the worst hangover I've had since I was a teenager.
To make it even more unbearable, I had to go to work. I told my manager that I was still drunk, sorry about that. Unlike every other manager in the country, he didn't send me home. If it hadn't been for my girlfriend covering for me all afternoon, nothing would've got done.

What happened was that a very good friend of mine is getting married on Friday (The Thirteenth!). It was his Wife to Be's hen night and we thought we'd go along for a few hours, to say hi really as we don't see enough of them. We ended up in town. I Really Don't Like town. However, because of the smoking ban, everywhere was totally dead so it wasn't all that bad. Unfortunately, I accidentally drank about 3 litres of cocktails. I was absolutely fine one moment, and very much not so the next. I don't remember getting home.

Apparently we went back to my friend's house where I was very loud and annoying and saying the same thing over and over again. Luckily for me, my friends are very good friends and love me very much so no major damage done. Plus I was mainly saying how much I love them and how beautiful their son is, and even though I was annoying, it's not the sort of thing that people are cross with you about the next day after a heavy night.

My girlfriend was sober and can remember everything which is a pain. Luckily for me, she has the patience of a saint and wasn't too cross with me the next day. She was not happy about the fact that Someone had a wee on the bathroom floor during the night. I think it was the cat.....
If it Was me, it meant I got up stark naked and was wandering round the house in the morning, which is when my girlfriend's brother gets home from work (he lives with us). So I really hope it wasn't me. I certainly didn't feel like I had moved from the same position when I woke up so am having very crossed fingers that it was the cat........

I wish I had a bit more self-control when it comes to my alcohol consumption. I can give up, I quit alcohol altogether for over two years once but I Really Like drinking. I wish that I would always know when I've had enough and could just leave that last cocktail that always pushes me over the edge......

I don't know that I'll ever learn but that hangover was a pretty harsh lesson yesterday in how you shouldn't drink on a work night when you have a eleven hour shift to get through the next day!

Monday 9 July 2007

Things That Make Me Smile...!!

I am not going to give up the moaning.
However, I've been organising my blog and reading my posts back and I thought that perhaps it wouldn't hurt to bring a little sunshine into my rather gloomy and self-obsessed world.

The following is a list of things that make me smile-
  1. My beautiful, funny, smart girlfriend
  2. My pets
  3. South Park
  4. Long Lie-Ins
  5. Going to run a bath and discovering that the person before me has cleaned it out themselves and not left a layer of hair and dirt for me to clean.
  6. Jammie Dodgers
  7. Being inside when it's raining outside
  8. Vodka
  9. Getting to the end of the month, and realising that I have money left
  10. Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips
  11. Popcorn
  12. Sunbathing
  13. Laughing so hard it makes me cry
  14. Answering the door to discover it IS a friend and NOT a Jehovah's Witness or a sweaty salesman
  15. Top Gear

This is not an exhaustive list, but it pretty much sums up the things I can think of right now. All these things make me happy and to be honest, although I do use my blog to rant and rave, I have a lot of laughter in my life.

I enjoy life very much, but I believe in Living. I like experiences that make me feel things, be it good or bad. I don't tend to do things in half-measures, which is perhaps why when things go wrong, it feels like the Universe is imploding around me. I just wanted to inject a little bit of positivity into my musings.

Now, back to being cross........

The Story Of The Unhappy Slug...

So I went back to work today.

Monday is only a half-shift for me, so I get the evening to mooch around the flat and watch lots of Jerry Springer and Judge Judy. Many people are a bit snobby about daytime television. They seem to think that it's only for people who struggle to spell their own name, or who marry their own cousins. For me, seeing how some people manage to get through life, despite not being able to string a sentence together is incredibly fascinating. I love watching their orchestrated fights on Jerry, or how some people will sue their mothers because "she borrowed a tenner once and never paid it back". It makes me feel safe because although sometimes it feels like my life is pretty awful, it will never be as bad as it is for these weirdos. And the saddest thing is, the majority of them aren't even smart enough to realise that they're missing out on all sorts of things. Or maybe they don't care, I don't know as I'm not exactly Sigmund Freud when it come to psychoanalysing other people.

This brings me to the Slug at work.
She is a person, we haven't got some sort of infestation (not that I'm aware of, anyway).
I call her the Slug because she spends all day chewing the part of her fingers that used to be her fingernails and everything she touches ends up being covered in dribble (a bit like as if a slug had crawled across it). It's disgusting.
I'm not a Total clean freak but I like clean hands on other people. And your mouth has more bacteria in than your bum! Not that I'd be particularly over the moon if somebody tried to pay for their bingo books with money covered in feces, but dribble is just as gross- unless the person handing something to you is under 4 years of age.
She also has a voice which I can only liken to a veritable orchestra of cats, all sharpening their claws on a ginormous blackboard simultaneously. It's awful. And she puts an 's' on the end of almost every verb she says, IE-

"I wants and needs a new kitchen"

AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!
I can't stomach the woman at the best of times but today, after being away from work for a whole week, I came extremely close to vaulting the counter and stapling her fat, stupid head to the carpet.

It was a shame really, as apart from the Slug, I had a pretty good afternoon. The customers were fairly annoying, but not so much as usual, and I was feeling fairly calm about all the things that normally wind me up and make me feel like I will become a victim of spontaneous human combustion at any given moment.

I was going to turn over a new leaf and try and cut the moaning down on my posts but I've changed my mind, I enjoy it far too much!

Sunday 8 July 2007

Back To Work....(Boo Hiss Boo)

I am faced with the gloomy prospect of returning to work tomorrow.

It's not quite the Apocalypse, with the Four Horsemen and their Legions of Doom and Destruction descending upon the world, intent on destroying all in their path and leaving chaos, death and disease in their wake, but I'm feeling a bit glum. The prospect of returning to my normal life after a week of ignoring my mobile and not having to get up in the morning before I feel like it is not one that I'm relishing right about now.

In all honesty, I think everybody feels this sort of low after a holiday. It's a bit like the come-down after taking drugs but without the horrible 'your-body-is-going-to-disintegrate-any-moment-now' kind of feeling that you get with a narcotic withdrawal. What is the same is that rather grey cloud looming over my head, like I'm never going to be quite that happy ever again (or at least not for a Very Long Time Indeed). It certainly doesn't make me want to dance about, that's for sure. Plus work is No Smoking now, and I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to cope with that after 6 years of being able to have a cigarette when I'm working. This is partly because I never really used to get breaks, and it was my boss's way of stopping me either having a nervous breakdown, or complaining I think! I will definitely be taking my breaks now, although this is going to be difficult and may cause problems down the line....

Never Mind. I've been reading back through my previous blogs and I really do moan A Lot. Am going to try and cut it down a bit. I'm refusing to give up the smokes so I suppose I ought to make a go of giving up something else I like doing instead. Am not sure that the previous sentence was, strictly speaking, in Good English but I'm going to leave it the way it is. Although I make a point of never editing my comments, even when I read back something that I am no longer cross about and realise that perhaps I didn't need to rant about it with quite so much venom, I have to confess to correcting any spelling and grammar mistakes that I notice. I don't mean to, but bad grammar bothers me. If I were reading a novel and the writer couldn't be bothered to construct a half-decent sentence, I would put it down. I can't help it. It's like a sort of Tourettes.

Well, maybe not as extreme as Tourettes (I exaggerate too much as well) but it's a sort of involuntary reaction that I have.


"Quick! Correct that spelling mistake! And PUT THAT COMMA IN THE RIGHT PLACE!!!"


Like the World will grind to a shuddering halt and everyone will take a moment to point and laugh at my hideous grammar......

I'm a bit weird.

Why I Love My Insomnia...

I have always had problems sleeping.
I can't ever remember ever finding it easy to get to sleep, even when I'm really tired. I think it's because I have an overactive brain, I really struggle to switch it off, unless I'm Really Drunk, in which case I'm fully capable of passing out anywhere.
However, despite this, It's never caused me any major problems, apart from maybe during several of my GCSE exams when I couldn't sleep the night before and rushed through my papers so I could have a kip on the desk!

My girlfriend is a Sleeping Machine. Due to the whole travelling thing last night, she went to sleep this morning at about 5am. She got up this afternoon at around 5pm, I made her some dinner and then she went back to sleep. I woke her around 9pm, which I then regretted as she was in a Very Bad Mood Indeed. She had a bath, unpacked her suitcase and then settled down on the sofa and went back to sleep Again. I am still awake and now it's coming up to 3am. I don't know if or when I'll get to sleep again. Could be not until tomorrow night, which is fine because then I will actually sleep when I go to bed and I'll be fine for Monday morning when we go back to work.

The reason I love my insomnia is that being unable to sleep has opened up a world to me that I wouldn't know existed had I gone to bed at a reasonable time. As a teenager, it enebled me to discover Japanese Anime, which was only on Channel 4 after midnight on a Friday. Over the years, I've seen countless films that I would've missed otherwise like Susperia, The Haunting (the original black and white), Theatre of Blood, The Ghoul etc etc.
I love old horror films, and many of the ones that they show on TV in the early hours aren't the sort that you would find proudly displayed at your local Blockbusters and I probably wouldn't have got around to watching them under any other circumstances.

I completed Final Fantasy 7 after devoting several weeks to playing the game when I should've been sleeping, I've watched countless documentaries on everything from the Lions in Africa to Notorious Murderers to how the ancient Egyptians built the Pyramids.

I've managed 4 posts today, which is more than I managed in the whole of June! I've read hundreds (literally) of books by many different authors (over the years, not just tonight!).

All these things have been experienced as a direct result of the fact that I don't sleep very much, and I'm glad because they're all part of who I am. It also comes in handy to have lots of useless information bouncing around your head if you want to do a crossword or join a pub-quiz team!

I've tried loads of different tablets and remedies. They either don't work, or work too well and give me a stonking great hangover in the morning. If I'm going to be hungover, I'd rather drink the vodka, thanks. At least then the hangover will feel meaningful......
I gave up on trying to cure it a long time ago, and I really do feel better for accepting that sleep deprivation is a part of my life, and probably always will be.

Saturday 7 July 2007

Viva Espana!!! (pt 2)



This image was my favourite thing at the cathedral in Palma.

The cathedral in itself was a beautiful piece of architecture, it was massive, felt holy and I enjoyed wandering around it, both inside and outside. This image is taken from a large piece of religious artwork, right near the exit. I love morbid Catholic imagery, I have no idea who the headless man is meant to be or why he was included on a piece of artwork that was made to go in a religious building. It's certainly not the sort of thing that I would want small children to see but nevertheless, in a world that condemns violence on TV and in computer games, if you put a violent image in a church, for some reason, it's OK. Brilliant!

I can see why loads of ex-pats emigrate to Spain. For a start, there's no security cameras covering your every single solitary last move, just in case you do something 'wrong' so they can fine you. People take their time doing things, I never felt like I had to rush for anything, not even when we got our flight home. And the airport staff at Palma could certainly show the poor excuse for 'Customer Services' that we got at Gatwick a thing or two.

It was the first time in recent years that I felt that, just for a few days, I could kick my shoes off, lie back and relax. I left all my worries at home and didn't get stressed or argue with my girlfriend once the whole time that we were away.

It was also sunny. We watched Sky news while we were there and I have to confess to stifling a chuckle when rain stopped play at Wimbledon practically every single day of our sun-drenched holiday. I didn't miss the rain and the damp and the general misery that seems to engulf our green little island.

The people of Britain need to start standing up for themselves. We put up with our controlling Government, their ridiculous laws, their pointless wars with countries we will never go to and, for the most part, have never heard of. We are letting them use their current 'War on Terror' as an excuse to strip each and every one of us of our fundamental human rights. Not even capitalist America attempts to treat their people so poorly. We are encouraged to be xenophobic, by a media that does the politicians publicity so very well and as a nation, we accept it all. Sometimes, you have to step back and try to take an objective view on things. I think that's what my little break away has done for me. If this country doesn't change, I'll be saving every last penny I can and disappearing off to the sunshine as soon as I've got enough of them to start a new life for myself.

Viva Espana!!! (pt 1)


I have just come back from a much needed holiday in Mallorca.

Some extra cash came our way unexpectedly so we booked a few days away on Expedia (a site which, I have to say, I would recommend to anybody who wishes to avoid the nightmare that is The Package Holiday) and then buggered off to much better weather and much larger drinks.


Getting there was a bit of a nightmare.

I didn't realise the airports pretty much close down in the wee small hours of the morning. Because of the latest terrorist threats, we were advised to get there early, only to discover the advertised tailbacks on the motorway were non-existent, and until the check-in desks opened at 3.30am, not one solitary member of staff could be found. Apart from two rather sorry-looking specimens whose expertise stretched to serving coffee. And two other guys who were playing with one of those giant floor-cleaning machines.

When we did get checked in, everything else seemed to fall neatly into place and we arrived at our destination completely knackered, but otherwise with no delays or problems, other than the fact I couldn't smoke for what felt like HOURS, which was completely rubbish.

The hotel was beautiful and thankfully, at the start of the week, devoid of English tourists. Not that I really mind my fellow countrymen but the English abroad are like a totally different species.

For some reason, none of them feel the need to speak the native language of wherever they happen to be. The ones we saw stretched to 'Hola' but anything beyond that was apparently too much hard work. If the waiter they happen to be speaking to doesn't understand them, they just keep increasing volume until they get what they want. Like saying the same thing in English louder and louder is going to somehow going to make it easier to understand. Also, they get annoyed by foreign people who don't speak English. It was painfully embarrassing for me but on the other hand, because I can speak a bit of Spanish, we got better service, bigger drinks and were treated incredibly well by the bar staff who were amazed by the fact we were willing to try and communicate in their language and weren't intent on drinking ourselves to death or trying to jump in the pool naked like most of the English that they meet apparently do.

The picture at the top is the view from the bar. I did say at some point I would attempt to add some photos to my blog so this is my very first one. Go Me! Am starting to get there with this computer malarkey.

So this is the first part of the story of my holiday. A bit more happened but I'll write about that later or this is going to end up being the longest post in the history of the Universe......

I Managed To Get It To Work In The End.....!

Stupid computer won't let me put the cursor in the title box for this post. This was going to be a happy post because I was in a good mood but now I am irritated....
I have no idea how to get it to work. Maybe I'll have to wait until I press 'publish' and it'll tell me in that slightly patronising way that computers do that I have forgotten to title my latest piece of drivel and it'll let me do it then.
Or maybe it won't let me publish at all without inserting a title in which case, what I'm writing at this precise moment is a complete waste of time an energy so I'm going to keep it short just in case.
And now, when I have loads to write about, I have ended up writing about absolutely nothing, which is really annoying because if there's something I really can't stand it's when you start reading a blog and the person who writes it spends a long time telling you how they've got nothing to say and are only writing because they feel they have to for some bizarre reason. Like it's 'for the fans' or something. I don't have any fans. Sometimes people click on my blog but they tend to click straight off again when they realise my blog isn't very exciting and I don't have any amusing pictures of me with my head up a chicken's arse or 'having fun' with all my friends or being on holiday or five hundred images of me changing my child's first nappy. Nice.
Ok. If I can title this when I press 'publish' then I'm going to then write a proper piece with all my exciting news in. If not I am going to have a tantrum which may result in my not having a computer at all when it's finished..... Here goes......

Monday 18 June 2007

My Brain Hurts.....

If there is one thing I hate more than my job it's applying for a new one.
When you apply for a new job, it appears that the prospective employer needs to know everything about you, from what you had for breakfast this morning to what your Great Aunt Ethel's favourite colour was.
Its Really Boring.
And not only is it Really Boring, but you have to try Really Hard to be Friendly and Enthusiastic and Really Excited about the possibility of a new life in accounting......
I've sent off three applications today. The last time I tried to find a new job I must have filled in about twenty application forms. I hate doing it because no matter how hard you try and make yourself sound Brilliant, you're really lucky if any of the bastards even send you a 'thanks but no thanks' letter. All they would have to do is write out one and save it on their system for all the failures as it's not like they have to sit around spending hours working out the best way to kiss My ass!!
Bastards.
I get really cross when they don't even acknowledge your time. It's very Bad Manners and when they're advertising for friendly and polite staff, it doesn't make it look like they were successful in finding them.......

Thursday 14 June 2007

I Need A New Job!

AAAAARRRGGHHH!
I am SO fed up with my job.
I hate it.
I also hate Monster who are rubbish. Their advertising makes it look like it's really easy to find relevant positions but every time I update my CV on there, I'm inundated with phone calls from recruitment agencies who want to offer me complete crap. It should be called 'Even More Useless And Depressing Than The Job Section In Your Local Paper Dot Com'.
At least that would be honest...........

Monday 4 June 2007

Hooray For Dog-Sitting! (or not.....)

Well, my girlfriend's cooking didn't kill me!
It DID give me Really Bad trapped wind, (glamorous, I know) that saw me sitting awake until 5am, crying my eyes out because I really did think I was going to die but I'm still here.
I've lapsed on my blog for the past week because we have been dog-sitting most of the time for my girlfriend's mum who is currently sunning herself in Tenerife, while we enjoy the glorious (if rather damp) British weather.....
This has mostly involved living out of plastic bags, and leaving anything that we really need in the wrong house whilst we juggle living in two places at once and work all at the same time.
Our pet cat has become extremely confused as her regular routine has become totally unpredictable, and she has started waking me up regularly in the middle of the night for cuddles when we are at home. She is currently yowling at the front door. I have no idea why as she is an indoor cat, and won't go outside, even if you try and pick her up and carry her out.
So, when my girlfriend's mum does come back from her well-deserved holiday, she is going to have a Very Spoilt dog, who won't do anything he's told as he's been allowed to run riot by us, as we were worried he would pine for his mummy and refuse to eat, which is what he usually does. We, on the other hand, are going to have a psychologically damaged cat who is no doubt going to need months of counselling which won't be covered by her insurance as it is completely our fault for being such Bad Parents.
Never Mind.....
If this wasn't hectic enough, work has been unsurprisingly rubbish so not only am I exhausted, but I've been pretty miserable too. I've come to the conclusion that I really do hate (nearly) all the staff at my workplace and have come extremely close to walking out on numerous occasions over the past week. Admittedly, this is nothing new, although my constant threats to desert my post are feeling a lot more real at the moment. The main problem with this is that I have a large number of bills to pay and no matter how appealing running away from my job seems during my daydreams, the reality of it would be much more stressful than the daily grind. Because I work in an industry that appears to be a complete mystery to any potential employer outside of gaming, nobody will employ me anywhere else that is not a bingo hall or a casino. And bingo halls and casinos aren't employing new staff thanks to the impending smoking ban which is going to see venues across the country closing their doors and a host of people just like me being left unemployed and unemployable.

Thank-You Tony 'Bastard' Blair.

The other problem I have is that despite the fact that my job is crap, the gaming industry pays quite well and although I could probably get a job in an office or a shop if I begged enough, I would have to start back at the bottom with a substantial decrease in salary, which I can't afford to do. That's if I was Really Lucky, and I'm Really Not.

I suppose, for all my moaning, that the bright side is that at least I've found the partner that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. Even Brigitte Jones (who you may note had a bunch of good jobs) had trouble finding 'The One' and I don't have That problem. I just wish I hadn't been lied to so much when I was at school. I was told constantly that if you work hard, it will pay off. Life, so far, has taught me that this simply isn't the case. If you're really lucky, you might find a career that isn't completely depressing with a dead-end waiting for if you ever reach retirement. In my experience, as my friends and I draw ever closer to the dreaded 3-0, we have all been left feeling like we went wrong somewhere. I don't know anyone my age who doesn't feel a little disillusioned with their lot in life.......

Friday 25 May 2007

Probably The Last Post I Will Ever Write.....

Oh. My. God.
My girlfriend is 'experimenting' in the kitchen.
It's my fault. I've been preparing my own meals since I was about thirteen and I've got a fairly cavalier attitude to cooking. It's a long process of trial and error, and after over ten years of messing about in the kitchen, I can bash a pretty decent meal out, even if all we've got in the cupboard is baked beans and a kitchen roll tube.
Recently, I've been trying out a lot of new things as I've been dieting and trying to eat much more healthily. This has gone down pretty well with she of the chocolate and cake addiction, and at this very moment, she is herself, in the kitchen chopping vegetables and asking me to explain how to cook rice.
The rice is easy, as fortunately for my saucepans, we have a steamer which turns out perfect rice every time. As she doesn't have to touch it, I think it'll be fine. I'm not sure about the rest of it though. On the surface, it's simply a combination of vegetables and beans. All she has to do is stir-fry them and then add the rice at the end........
Hmmmmm. The thing is, when you've spent a lot of time cooking a variety of different things, you can just look at stuff and know whether its cooked or not. Or if you should turn the heat up/down/call the fire brigade. It's really hard to explain to another person, particularly a person who has spents the vast majority of their adulthood surviving on take-aways and Mr Kipling's finest produce.
I'm going to either have to trust her- and in so doing risk the well-being of my stomach lining, or interfere and destroy what little confidence she has. She's pretty good at chips and pasta and basic stuff like that but tonight's fare really is going to be a step-up, I just hope she can rise to the challenge.....
Actually, maybe I'm just being a tiny bit patronising. It'll be fine, I'm sure. Why am I worrying? Maybe it's because I'm so used to the kitchen being Mine. If I'm honest, I'm probably feeling slightly threatened by somebody venturing into My Territory. If I don't do the cooking in the household, I might end up having to do the cleaning- and That would be awful!! Oh No!!
I can't imagine anything worse that being responsible for things like taking the rubbish out and Polishing. Urgh!!
Oh well, hopefully this is just going to be a pleasant experience and isn't going to rock the foundation of my home life.........

I Hate You Super Mario!

AAAAARRRGHH!
As I previously mentioned, I recently acquired a Gameboy DS. I've been pretty much attached to it since I bought it, and I love my new hand-held gaming console very much.
However, today, whilst near the end of New Super Mario Brothers, I got so engrossed in the level I was stuck in, I forgot to pay attention to the amount of lives I had left. As a consequence, I murdered Mario, and although I got a continue, I have lost ALL my accumulated points. It's very annoying when you've invested a lot of time in a game and something like this happens. Needless to say, I am now very cross- not only with the game but with myself, because I shouldn't feel this emotional about a child's computer game.
I genuinely felt like launching the damn thing out of the window. Luckily my girlfriend was on hand to prevent me from doing anything so stupid and I very nearly murdered her too..... Over Super Mario! God!! That would have made an interesting headline.....
I wonder if anyone has actually been a real-live victim of computer-game rage... The thing is, I can quite feasibly see it happening. I'm usually a fairly rational (if admittedly bad-tempered) person and yet the little red moustached man nearly made me have a full blown screaming match with another human being- simply because they were in the room at the same time as he pissed me off!
Dear me.....

Sunday 20 May 2007

Betty! I'm Having A Bit of Bother......

Today I am in a crappy mood.
I didn't wake up in a crappy mood, but going to work managed to eliminate any slight bit of jollity from my day. Working on Sundays should be illegal. Unless you're a fireman or drive an ambulance or a waiter or something essential like that. I just really object to having to put up with other people enjoying their weekends off. It's depressing.
I have worked Sundays for about a year now, and they never fail to make me feel miserable. Up until then, I always managed to avoid them, feigning religious conviction. Although, to be honest, I DID feel pretty religious about not having to work on Sunday.
Since the dawn of my fragile being, I have always believed that Sundays were special. I have never felt guilty about spending the entirety of the day lounging in bed, only to be disturbed by the persistent call of the Sunday Roast. After which I would have an inevitable afternoon nap, followed by more lounging.
Instead, although I get a lie-in, I have to work. Largely because if I failed to turn up, the staff wouldn't get paid. Seriously, because I have to email their wages off to the accountant and if they don't get sent, the staff don't get paid. This doesn't affect me, as I am on a salary because I am Management. Although, according to a particularly rude customer yesterday, I am not Real management because I am a Girl. These people are still living in Medieval times and would probably turn up for a public stoning in the carpark behind the bingo hall, as long as it;

  1. Didn't interrupt Bingo and,
  2. Had free tea and coffee.
I hate Them.
I have to keep reminding myself that their opinions aren't important, even though they are delivered with absolute conviction and much volume, as these people are pond scum (on their best days). This is a difficult mantra to repeat day after day after mind-numbingly boring day but I am trying really hard to keep it up.
One day, I will have my cake AND eat it (without getting fat!). One day, this will all be part of a long and ever so slightly amusing anecdote that I bore my grandchildren stupid with.
I hope.......

Friday 18 May 2007

The Problem With Blogging pt 2

I read quite a lot of other blogs.
It's really interesting to me to see what Other People are using theirs for. Mine is a sort of diary/forum for whinging where nobody tells me to 'shut-up and stop being so negative'! Although if anybody apart from me was reading this, they would have the opportunity to do so via the comments I suppose.
My blog is essentially for my own personal use. I do not have links to lots of other sites, and have no intention of becoming a fully fledged member of the blogging community. I choose to remain as anonymous as possible because although I don't have a problem with anybody reading what I have to say, I don't really want them to know who I am. This could lead to my editing myself, when I started this blog with the intention of using it to free my mind and say whatever I'm thinking at any given time. I don't care if what I have to say offends or upsets anybody because nothing that they retaliate to my commentary on my life with could be personal, because they know very little about who I really am. That being said, if anybody who knew me read my musings, they would know that they were mine, but of course, they couldn't prove it without a picture of me grinning inanely in the top corner and a detailed map to my house in the profile.
The thing I find strange about many of the other blogs I have been perusing is that most people seem to use them as a way of broadcasting their existence to the world. They have friends and family leaving comments and hundreds of visitors, all zooming in to view the latest video clip of their baby/cat/boyfriend. I'm fairly different in the sense that, as yet, I have failed to post a single photograph from my life. That's something I may do in the future- but it certainly won't be of me or my family.
In this day and age, simple things like your name, address and date of birth have become valuable commodities. In Britain, we are caught on cctv anything up to several hundred times a day! When you compare that to America, where the average is seven times, that statistic becomes pretty scary. I don't understand why it has become so necessary for Big Brother to see what we're doing all the time, but apparently most people haven't read 1984, and nobody seems to be that bothered. In this age of technology, you can't stay hidden from anyone. Which is why I won't be posting my name on my blog. Nobody needs to know who I am in this little world, and to be honest, by remaining anonymous, anybody reading this is much more likely to get a realistic version of what's really going on in my head. It's the one place that I don't have to maintain a fabulously groomed exterior or pretend I don't fart!

The Problem With Jogging

I have recently taken up jogging.
If you knew me, you would currently be rolled up in a ball on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Yes, heavy smoking, hard drinking, poor eating little old me is getting up first thing in the morning and going for a run!
The strange thing is, I've always looked upon joggers with more than a little disdain. When I was in my early teens, hanging round in parks with my friends, drinking cider, I was always the first to break into a chorus of 'Keep on Running' as they puffed and panted past.
It's not that I've really got anything against joggers, it's just that they always look like they're taking themselves extremely seriously, when they aren't really doing anything that warrants quite that much self-importance. I've realised since I've taken it up myself, that running for any length of time involves a huge amount of will power and concentration! It's actually REALLY hard.
Last Saturday, I was out at 8am. I live near a river which has a path running alongside it, and to be honest, it's beautiful in the morning. I have an excuse to be out that early on a weekend, as I work them anyway so getting up a couple of hours earlier isn't really a big deal. Anyway, as I was puffing along, there were people out playing pitch and putt on the miniature golf course! At 8am on a Saturday! I didn't realise that ANYBODY could possibly be that mad. To top it off, a family then passed me, coming the other way. Mum and daughter were motoring along on a pair of pushbikes and Dad was sprinting alongside, whilst pushing baby in the pram. Bonkers!
Being up and out early in the morning has opened up a whole new world for me. One that I was totally unaware existed in the first place AND, it's less that a mile from my home!
Trying to be healthy is one of my latest whims. Its lasted for over three days though so I'm fairly proud of my ability to stick with this one. I couldn't promise that something more interesting isn't going to catch my eye though. The main problem I have with any form of exercise is that it's all repetitive and pretty boring. You can start a fitness programme with the best intentions in the world, but after a few weeks of the same old thing it becomes a lot harder to find any sort of motivation. Even if I stick this out through the summer, by this time in six months, the mornings will be dark, cold and wet and my duvet is going to be a far more appealing place to be....

Tuesday 8 May 2007

Why I Have A Short Attention Span...

I admit it!
Last week, when I first discovered blogging, I was writing a new one every day. It seemed that inspiration was jumping out at me, everywhere I went.
However, on Friday, something happened that changed all that. I bought a Nintendo DS! It's brilliant and I haven't put it down apart from when I'm working or sleeping.
I've always been a bit usesless at sticking with things so this will probably be my last blog for at least two weeks, when I will no doubt get bored of my new toy. Then it will be confined to it's box for the rest of eternity like everything else I've ever bought on a whim...
Hey ho, not bored of it yet though so I'd better get back to it!!

Monday 30 April 2007

The Story Of Why Traffic Wardens Are Evil.....

I don't like the traffic wardens who patrol the car park situated behind my workplace.
They are Very Bad People Indeed.
This is partly because they clearly have no morals and seem to enjoy making other people's lives miserable. We get a ticket at least once a month. This is because they know that we are stuck in the bingo hall all day, and from the minute we pull up, they are waiting for us to exceed the allocated five hours. If we go over by just five minutes, we'll have a ticket.
We have to move the car two or three times a day to avoid tickets or the ridiculous parking charges set by the city council. We can't get a bus because by the time we finish work, there are no direct routes to where we live and I, for one, am not willing to risk my life hanging around bus-stops late at night. Sorry about that, but I'm not. We simply can't afford to pay for parking, we don't get paid enough and to be honest, it's not like the government doesn't get enough out of us already with their weird and wonderful taxes.
The traffic wardens know my girlfriend's car. They seem to think of it as a piggy bank on wheels. I firmly believe that none of them would be struck down by lightening if they could be bothered to stick their heads in the back door of the building to ask her to move it if she's been parked in a space a minute too long. They, of course, disagree. This has resulted in numerous arguments, threats, tears and screaming matches- all of which still result in the inevitable ticket stuck on our windscreen.
The bit that makes me REALLY mad is that my girlfriend applied to be a traffic warden several years ago and in the application pack, it was described how these Nazis get a bonus for every car they put a ticket on! She didn't even bother sending it back, she was so disgusted. They are encouraged to hover around car parks like nasty little worker ants, waiting to pounce on YOUR car and make YOUR life miserable. AND they enjoy it AND get paid extra for creating as much collective misery as possible.
Next time you walk past somebody shouting at one of these parking bastards, do what I do.........

......Laugh your head off, they deserve to be made to feel bad about what they do....!

Sunday 29 April 2007

Why The Smoking Ban Is A Bad Idea

Our Government is banning smoking in public places in just over two months time. Apparently this is because people in Britain have completely lost the ability to think for themselves, and need lots of help with staying healthy. Obviously the fundamental human right of having the freedom of choice to make our own decisions for better or for worse in our own lives is, apparently, no longer necessary.
I don't like non-smokers who give lectures on the dangers of smoking or cough loudly next to me while I'm puffing away in the pub. The worst kind of non-smoker is the ex-smoker. People who have managed to banish their filthy addiction seem to feel the need to let those of us who still enjoy the odd fag how much 'better' their life is now. Yawn.
Of course, smoking is bad for you. It can cause or contribute to all manner of nasty illnesses and in extreme cases, even death itself. The problem I have is that nowadays, everything is bad for you. Not just smoking, there is an enormous list that includes drinking alcohol, eating the 'wrong' food, watching television, surfing the Internet, non sleeping enough, not exercising enough, sleeping too much, exercising too much, salt and even drinking too much water can be fatal. Where does it stop? At what point are we going to say to ourselves that seeing as we're only on this planet for somewhere between fifty and a hundred years, which is a Very Short Time Indeed, perhaps we should stop worrying about what's going to kill us, and concentrate on enjoying the things that make us feel alive. And if that includes having a daily nicotine fix and the occasional beer and even (God Forbid!) the odd Friday night kebab, then so be it!
I am so fed up with being nannied constantly by the people who run this country. If I want to be unhealthy then that should be my choice.
I can hear non-smokers twitching. Yes, I know, smoking affects those around you too. So here is my message-
GO SOMEWHERE ELSE!
Use your own freedom of choice and BOG OFF!
I have no problems with abstaining from smoking around children, or in restaurants or cinemas or shops or art galleries or indeed any of the numerous places that already exist where you can't smoke. However, when I go to the pub, I want a fag. If I can't smoke when I'm out, I shall be staying in.
The biggest problem that this is going to create is the fact (certainly in my own opinion and experience) that smokers spend more money when they're out than non-smokers. They gamble harder, drink harder and generally try and enjoy themselves a bit more. I know that if I'm not out of work within six months of the ban being put in place, it will be a miracle.
So thank-you to all the people that lobbied for this. Well done! I'm going to end up unemployed so that you can stay in too- because it won't just be my little bingo hall that shuts down. Pubs, clubs and venues across the country will be closing their doors by this time next year.
And I still refuse to give up......
I'm no quitter!

Friday 27 April 2007

The Problem With Blogging

This is my sixth blog. I recently discovered blogging and have to confess that it's thoroughly enjoyable. I get to vent all the things that usually make me Very Bad Tempered Indeed and I've always enjoyed writing things down. A few years ago, a friend of mine had an ex-girlfriend who used to keep an online diary, which I have to confess to making fun of. This was chiefly because she used it to publicly denounce him and call him all sorts of names and he, the fool, used to read her vitriolic outbursts on a regular basis and then complain about it for days on end. I don't know if anyone but the two of them ever read it, but it was a bone of contention between them, long after their relationship should have been dead, buried and forgotten about.
Nobody but me is reading my blog. I know this because I spent about four hours yesterday trying to work out how to get a site-meter that worked on it. I am not computer literate. I can do the basics like switching it on and off and shopping online but that's about it. I spent a disgusting amount of money on my PC and have a super-fast Internet connection along with a memory the size of Bulgaria but despite all this, it is still a foreign land to me. I am learning though and after much fiddling and swearing yesterday, I found a site that does meters and actually explained how to put one on my blog. In really easy-to-understand terms.
This is part of the problem with the Internet. Most people know what they're doing with computers, and for those of us that only have a vague recollection of banging away on a keyboard the size of an average fridge-freezer whilst at school, they have changed somewhat. If you don't know what you're doing, you daren't ask anybody for fear of being ridiculed so if you need to do something new, the only way forward is Trial and Error.
The thing is, I only wanted a meter because I know that Other People Have Them. Not because I am expecting vast amounts of cyber-traffic to come hurtling through my little world, three days after it came into existence. But then, as the various sites that supply them explained to me, if I don't have one, I will never know how many people are viewing my little blog. Even if it's only two other people over the course of the next millenia.
I got sucked in to a bizarre Internet-exclusive marketing ploy. I admit it! In the real world, I am immune to these sort of sales pitches. I have even mastered the art of going to the supermarket with a list of What I Need, only purchasing What I Need and not buying anything that's on offer because they say it's What I Need. I am going to have to work on my will of steel whilst online I think......
If you are reading this, I now know about it and you can be self-assured you have cheered me up and made my four hour expedition to get a meter that works all worthwhile. Thank-you xx

Thursday 26 April 2007

The Problem With Having A Brilliant Little Brother

My brother is brilliant.
It's not that he's just cool or clever or successful. He's almost a genius but without any of the social awkwardness normally associated with people who are Very Clever Indeed.
He has a beautiful, brilliant girlfriend who is tall and blonde and almost as brilliant as he is. I am sure that one day in the future, they will be the proud parents to a small army of blonde, blue-eyed beautiful, brilliant children.
He has a degree now, which he managed to sail through without any stress or worry whatsoever. Naturally, he got a first in subjects that I didn't understand and frankly couldn't pronounce if I did know what they were. He's got a job fiddling about with computers for which he earns a lot more than me, even though I am Management and have worked (very hard) for the same company for over six years.
Since we were little, anything that I could do, he could do better, faster and in a generally more productive and/or creative way. Even the tantrums he threw as a toddler were more spectacular, people in China could hear him screaming when he didn't get his own way.
I attempted to learn guitar, and am still struggling with the same four chords over ten years on. During the same time-scale, he has mastered guitar, can riff like Jimi and hasn't bothered playing his for ages as he is now 'bored' with it as there isn't really much more for him to learn.
We used to go to karate. I gave up after a little while because I got fed up with getting beaten up by the bigger kids during 'sparring' sessions. He is now a super-duper black-belted teaching person who could probably kill you with his big toe whilst filling in the Times crossword and fixing your computer all at the same time.
The problem with having a brilliant little brother isn't really jealousy as such (any more). I always felt a huge amount of pressure to succeed when I was a child, especially as I was the eldest. I was meant to set an example for him to 'look up to'. Ha! He has surpassed me in nearly everything I have ever attempted to do. Although my extended family would never say as much, I know they all breathed a collective sigh of relief when he finished university. My parents only had one 'failure' who was obviously just a blip on the radar, leading up to the bright shining light that is my younger sibling.
The Real problem is that I am always forgetting that he really doesn't need me to attempt to look after him any more. I love him very much and am so proud of his many achievements. The last time we went out for a drink, I insisted on paying for him as I still think of him as a poor student, even though he hasn't been for a long time and has a bigger salary and less bills to pay than I do!
The Real problem is that at some point, I am going to have to allow him to look after me. In the future, no doubt, he will be the one buying the expensive presents whilst I try and scrabble the pennies together for a Cd and some socks for him. He will be the one that makes sure 'they' don't put me in a home before I'm ready. And, he will be the one going to the bar while I get smashed for free!!
Actually, that doesn't sound too bad.........!

Wednesday 25 April 2007

Why Today Was (Nearly) A Complete Disaster

Today was awful.
For the first time in the history of my life, I got up at 6am without any problems or tantrums. However, the initial good start rapidly went downhill...
The taxi was on time but the driver didn't really speak any English and apparently, we were only the third customers that he had ever had as it was his first day. We spent the ride to the station frantically shrieking at him to ignore his sat-nav as it directed him to completely the wrong place. When we got to the station, I bought a coffee, only to discover a short time later that my cup had a hole in the bottom and was leaking violently over my best jeans.
The boring train journey proceeded without any further major incident until on arrival at Waterloo, we decided to go to Burger King to get a egg-muffin processed breakfast. I attempted to walk up the stairs and somehow managed to fall over them in spectacular style in front of about twenty people who then proceeded to point and laugh at me. I must confess to having a little cry as I really hurt my knee (not that this invoked any sympathy whatsoever from my audience).
We made it to my audition which, it transpired, involved that favourite British pastime, The Queue.
After indulging ourselves in Three hours of non-stop crazy queueing, I realised that as I had not made the effort to show-off to the cameras (that the film crew appeared to be attempting to insert into every orifice of every contestant), I didn't have a hope in hell of being selected to sing in front of the lovely Simon Cowell. Not that he was there today, but we all had to pretend enthusiastically that he was. Or rather other people did, whilst I sat on the floor nursing my injured knee. Eventually, I got to sing for about four seconds to the grumpiest man I have ever met in my entire life. He said no, I stupidly thanked him for his time (I wish my manners would stop making me be polite to people when I want to punch them!), and then it was time for me to leave. Weirdly enough, I wasn't really cross about anything other than my very sore knee. I actually (despite grumpy man's opinion) sang really well, didn't miss a note, or feel wracked with nerves. Hurrah!
We mooched around Camden and Leicester Square for a bit, and then decided to head home as my rail ticket wasn't working when I got on and off the tubes so every time I wanted to get in and out of a station, I had to ask an attendant for help. Apparently today was 'I Think I'm A Stand Up Comic' day for all staff working the London Underground and after an entire day of people joking that I would have to live on the tubes forever (I'm claustrophobic) I was pretty much ready not to have to endure any more of their humour.
The train journey home was Awful. There were no seats so we had to sit on the floor by the toilets listening to some office worker (whose electronic equipment was taking up about six seats in the carriage) blah on his mobile to Klause, Clive and Ivan whilst trying not to openly keel over in fits of laughter at him. There were no taxis in the rank when we finally got off so we cleverly decided to kill our feet a bit more by walking to the pub.
When we got to the pub, we discovered it was 'closed for refurbishment'. I could have cried, especially when I realised we had left both our mobiles indoors and there was no payphone within a ten-mile radius so we'd be walking the rest of the way home.
I have spent the rest of the evening in (another) pub. We made it back and then my girlfriend's sister came to pick us up. I have now drank about ten shots of vodka so am feeling pretty good. Have to work tomorrow with a hangover but am feeling pretty positive as it can't be worse than today (I hope!).
And that is why today was (nearly) a complete disaster.......

Tuesday 24 April 2007

The Story of Why I Hate Tuesdays

I hate Tuesdays because they are my least favourite day at work.
For some reason, on Tuesday the vast majority of customers that come to play bingo are Evil. Some of them are nice, but most of them are not.
Every Tuesday, by about lunch-time, I will be in a Very Bad Mood. This is usually because numerous people will have been rude to me, talked to me like I am four years old, or just been incredably awkward. Add to that the fact that we are always short-staffed on Tuesday, (this is because the person who does the rota does not work on Tuesday, so they don't care) and you have a volatile recipe for Bad Tempers.
When I am old, every Tuesday I will go to bingo, (that is if old people are not forced to stay in their homes, which is where the government seems to think they should stay, by the time I am old) and every Tuesday I will be horrible to everyone. I will order food that I know the kitchen doesn't serve, I will only purchase my bingo books with a large purse full of pennies that I will count out very slowly whilst standing at the front of a huge queue and I will refuse to say please or thank-you. Looking forward to behaving in this way is the only thing that is currently keeping me going through my Tuesday shifts.
Today I also have the joy of knowing that my x-factor 'audition' is tomorrow and I am Very Scared about having to spend an afternoon with a large crowd of screaming people. I am not sure if it's going to be fun or complete and utter torture. I haven't told anybody I'm going, apart from my girlfriend but as she's told nearly everybody we know, they have spent the day wishing me luck and being very nice. Am hoping that as all these people are supposed to care about me, they wouldn't let me do it if they thought I was going to look a total plonker...... at least I hope not!! Fingers crossed anyway........