You know you're getting on a bit when...

1. You blow your nose and lose control of your bladder.

2. When your delightful, sub-30 y/o girrelfriend tells you that you need to change your word document into the 2007 version, but you can't fricken find the "save as" option on the new fan-dangled vista version...I thought I welcomed change with open arms....

3. When you need an orthopaedic pillow.

4. When you get really excited about hand and feet warmers.

5. When plucking your eyebrows moves onto just general plucking.

To be continued...

Dirty thirty

What a weekend I've just had! I drove up to Scotland straight after work on Friday, in convoy with some friends. We were well prepared for the trip with supplies of chocolate eclairs -not the pastry ones much to my disappointment, Jellytots -which I haven't had in ages(!), and wine gums -yuck. The destination was Pop's house. We hit the M73 around about 9pm which wasn't bad going considering the weather and the traffic. At this point, Karen excitedly blurted out - "Oh, I can tell I'm in Scotland, there's a castle over there!" *Confused look on my face* "Castle? Where??" I looked in the direction Karen was pointing and realised much to our amusement that she'd seen the outline of some high rise flats just before Easterhouse! From a distance, the square tops looked (some what) like turrets. Bless, an English person across "the border."

As I pulled into Dad's street I thought I could make out his shadow in the doorway. As it turned out, here's what greeted me:

Well, sorry to disappoint folks, I just realised that I've left the box and all the bits for my new camera at my Dad's! Work with me here and picture the scene...the front door was plastered with a HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner and balloons clinging for dear life *grin and a big wiggle* More birthday balloons and banners greeted us in the living room along with the rest of my folks. It felt sooo good coming home to them and all the decorations :-))

On the Saturday Sarah, myself and the girrels hit Glasgow for some shopping. Why is it when you're ready to part with cash that you never see anything that you like?! In the evening, along with the extended family, we all headed to a contemporary Scottish restaurant. I figured with all the foreigners attending that no trip to Scotland would be complete without some haggis on the menu! The venue of choice was Arisaig in Glasgow. I have to say, that it was the best meal that I've had in a long time, and they had an excellent selection of vegetarian dishes too, even a veggie haggis.

Well, no birthday is complete without the cake. Piccies will follow, but trust me when I say that it was the best cake that I've ever had. The design was a girrel on a bike, she even had dodgy spikey hair!

I really had the best time. I kinda feel like I've added the last book in the bookshelf that is this part of my life, and I'm now moving onto to fill the next. It feels like you've got something under your belt, turning 30. You feel more comfortable in who you are and the decisions you make, and you definitely appreciate the effort that family and friends make.

A big, big thank you to Dad for giving us his house for the weekend, and to Ann-Marie for organising the decorations and cake and helping Dad colour code the bed sheets, and for sending him back to the shops for the umpteenth time until he arrived with the correct duvet cover and valance sheet! A big thank you to my wee brother for flying over from Denmark just for one night! A big thank you to all my friends and family who were there to make the night so special. And last, but by no means least, a big thank you to Sarah for being the bestest girrelfriend in the whole wide world ;-)! (although you have lost some points for making me share the chocolate cake ;-))

Laughter is good for the soul, and for male pattern baldness

I should be in bed right now. I'm working tomorrow and I'm driving up to Scotland after work for my birthday weekend. I'm turning 30, so I need my sleep. But I'm buzzing. I'm buzzing from the chat that I've just had with Sarah. She giggled and laughed a lot tonight. Lots of cheeky funny giggles, proper laughing. I was re-energised with each wee pleasurable outburst.

I was getting in the mood for the weekend and started singing "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to...you would cry too if it happened to you..." That's the extent of my knowledge on the song. Sarah then took up where I left off and launched into the next verse. Well, I for one am well impressed, she's going to get on great with the rest of the gene pool! Now all she needs to learn is my version of "Every party has a pooper." Honestly, the fact that my Mum used to sing that to me on the odd occasion, hasn't left me emotionally scarred, well, not much lol. She had an excellent sense of humour.

Male pattern baldness runs on my Dad's side of the family. So I once said to my little brother, "You know, when you get old, you're going to be bald like..." Then I blurted out all of the names as if there was NO way Johnnie could avoid it "Dad, Uncle Sammy, Gerard, John, Uncle Hughie, etc, etc..." Johnnie, who could only have been about 5 at the time, (I was 10), burst into tears. Mum was cooking in the background and heard what I said. When she realised that Johnnie was crying and I was looking rather smug she replied to me by saying "Well how do you know it wont happen to you?!" The young, no longer smug PP, was then in tears.

I've been packing tonight. Said task, still not completed. Had scheduled it in my diary for Wed but put off for today. I did however manage to clean my car and do my recycling. Silver star for PP! Think I'll finish off the packing tomorrow morning.

One more sleep!

In the red

I have an inherent tendency to put things off, this is something that I'm constantly "working" on. Sometimes I wonder if I should just let myself be me, or, should I conform and just get my act together?

I left the house on time this morning, grabbed my latte and some toast on the way to work as usual and decided to grab some diesel en route. I was already in the red but figured I had enough to make the 4 miles to the petrol station.

Pulled into the petrol station when I noticed that ALL of the diesel pumps were covered! Imagine my horror! I got out of my car and asked the attendant if they were sure they didn't have any left, could they not squeeze a few drops out? "No" they replied. Shit!

I then preceded to drive to the nearest station with an average speed of 30mph in 6th gear - just in case. Luckily I made it to the station without running out of fuel. Lesson learned!

On my ride...

Tonight, whilst out on my bike the following occurred:

1. I hit an old codger's Ford mundaneo with my fist, intentionally, cos he got way too close for comfort. He didn't even bat an eyelid - old git lol!

2. Some chavvy kids threw a -don't laugh, it could've been vay, vay dangerous!- a paper aeroplane at me. I pulled my brakes, turned round and gave them a right mouthful. They weren't expecting expletives to come back at them in a pissed off Scottish accent: don't mess!

3. I saw a guy who was missing a foot. At the sample place last month, I saw a guy who's hospital trousers were falling down past his bum. For some reason, I always look forward to this part of my ride...

I love riding my bike :-)

Age

As I type this, I can feel my central heating dry my skin. Luckily I succumbed the other weekend and bought some moisturiser. I did it all on my own, and I managed to spend less then a tenner! I don't understand why women would want to spend mega bucks on facial cream. When are people going to just accept that skin matures?! It's part of you, it's your journey. Your frown lines, your laughter lines, and that mole that your gran tried to scrub when you were a kid thinking it was chocolate. Why do grandparents do that lol? And it's always with a really old tissue that's been up their sleeve or in their pocket for ages. The tissues always have that foosty-tissue-nice-gran-smell. My gran used to smell of Oil of Olay, formerly known as Oil of Ulay.

Sarah came over last Thursday. Although she's back in the flatlands, she's even closer than before. She re-confirmed her prime position as my mate for life on Saturday. When, upon seeing the BT ads with the guy from 'My Family' exclaimed - "What's he doing playing a parent/adult?!" Aaah, domestic bliss :-). Every fricken time that ad comes on I ask the same question. He's so unbelievable as a grown up!

Now it's only 9 more sleeps till I'm over there.

Oooh, I could crush a grape!

Well, I set my alarm for an early rise on Monday morning to start/finish the work. Alarm went off at 6am, I shrugged and felt confident that it could actually all be done in the 1.5 hours prior to my meeting. Luckily for me I work well under pressure. The downside being that it's positive reinforcement for me being a slacker.

It's only 2 more sleeps until ma girrel visits *excited wiggle.* I am SOOOO excited! I feel like we've totally earned this visit. For an instant gratificationist 2 sleeps are a struggle let alone 3 months. I started the blog on the day that Le Pew left in August. When I waved her off teary-eyed, with 1 packet of chocolate covered waffles to console me. If only I'd known they had to last me 3 months!

Sunday faff

Okey dokey, I have a wee bit of work to do tonight that I'm seriously avoiding. Not because it's too difficult or that it will take too long. I just loathe feeling like I have to do something. It's kind of like a fear of starting. Usually once I start, it isn't actually that bad. To avoid my work I've made numerous phone calls, written a few emails, started writing a blog, done some house work, chomped my way through most of a banana loaf (by the time I've written the full blog there will be no loaf left), watched a bit of tv, pestered my more studious other half with a prolific amount of texts, etc, etc. I figured I'm justified today - I've felt sick all week and woke up this morning feeling like I had a hangover. I was out last night, but I certainly wasn't drinking. You see, I was at the largest lesbot convention this side of the Atlantic, or should I say the Ouse.

*runs downstairs to get the remaining slice of the banana loaf* I felt body parts jiggle then that don't normally. Am I the only gluttonous person who buys a cake -for themselves- and consumes it within, erm, 6 hours, ALL-ON-THEIR-OWN?! The law of diminishing returns just doesn't seem to work with me. Some one please tell me that this is normal!! Now where did I put my elasticated trousers...?

Oh yes, the Lesbot convention. Well, first of all I'd like to begin by saying that as much as I knock things like this, that I deep down secretly love them as well. They have a purpose, they bring together the "community" which I think is always beneficial. I just wished that they played better music and the tickets weren't so expensive! My first experience of the Lesbot festival delights was when I first moved down to York. Two of my rather disillusioned friends travelled all the way down from Edinburgh to attend the festival. With the promise of Lesbot authors, merchandise, workshops and a wee boogy at the end, we were all looking forward to it. We were charged something like £15 to get in for the day (didn't include the boogy tickets). Imagine, if you will, a church sale of work. You know, wooden stalls with lots of random collections of books, cds, calendars and the odd dildo thrown in for good measure. I have to say that your regular church sale of work was -in my eyes- far more appealing. Why? Because they included cake stalls too. There weren't any at the lesbot festival. Oh, and the church fete is free.

Now don't get me wrong, I love Sandy Toksvig as much as the next lesbian. But what is with those random stalls that sell tie-die mohair jumpers and purple hairy hiking socks?!!!! I can't help but feel slightly perturbed and some what alienated at the same time. I think organisers of events like this attract such a broad range of women - which in itself is a huge achievement. But they really should try to broaden their appeal away from the usual stereotypes. I'm not saying that stereotypes are a bad thing, every social group has them, and needs them. But how are you meant to move things forward if you're regressing back to the same old?

Chappy

There are things that my Girrel says that make me pinch myself in disbelief at how lucky I am to have her as my girrel. She sent me an email the other day. We were both in a bit of a strop with the 9-5. To relieve the stress, she suggested that we handle it in a really mature manner by smashing some windows! Now before anyone picks up the phone to dial the police, said target would have been a disused shed in a field some where. The idea was perfect. Our plan now for next weekend is to buy lots of plates and cups from a charity shop and introduce them to gravity and a rather large brick wall. (I'll be taking my brush etc so that we don't leave a mess).

It's the kind of thing that you want to do when you're a kid. It reminded me of playing "chap-door-runaway," more affectionately known as "chappy." One instance sprung to mind that involved my little brother and I. We'd just finished dinner at our aunt's house, and for whatever reason, none of our friends would "come out to play." Rather than head back indoors, I suggested to Johnnie that we have wee game of chappy. It was winter time, the street lights were on and I can remember Johnnie was wearing Magic gloves. Don't get excited. Magic gloves is a bit of an exaggeration. They really should have been called stretchy-man-made-fibre gloves, but that doesn't have the same effect. These are the gloves that look like they're made to fit a 4 month old, but some how "magically" fit most* adult hands. Not only did Johnnie have Magic gloves, but he had day glow orange Magic gloves. Walking down the street all you could see was the glow from Johnnie's hands kinda like the guy from the Readybrek advert.

Being big sister, I flipped the first couple of letter boxes. Once we'd gotten our breath back from running away from the 4th door I decided it was Johnnie's turn. I pointed to a door that had a wall next to their path so that it would be difficult for them to catch us. Johnnie plucked up his courage and went to rattle the door. I poised on my tip toes getting ready to bolt. Unlucky for Johnnie, the letter box was a pushy-inny rather than a flippy. Ooops! I'm standing there, staring at my brother shouting "come on! Run!" And this wee voice screams back at me "I can't! My glove's caught!" He'd pushed the letter box too far in and it had sprung back on his finger! I had to go round the wall and free his finger and Magic glove from the letter box. I'd never laughed so hard - Johnnie never played chappy again!

15 days and counting

Life's funny some times the way it works out. Le Pew was meant to be en route to York ce soir, but as fate would have it, LP aint well. She is PLP: poor-le-pew. Which means that I am WOLP: without-le-pew. Which in turn means that I'll be OTPALTLP: on-the-phone-a-lot-to-le-pew this weekend. Yes, we're both a wee bit miffed that we wont be having romantic walks in York or breakkie at Auntie Betty's this weekend. But good things come to those who wait. And besides, OLP: organised-le-pew ordered the weekly Tesco shop from Belgium so I'm just patiently waiting for it for it to arrive tonight. I hope there's a tub of BnJ's cookie dough to see me through the weekend. If that doesn't do, the 4 bottles of Duvel and 1 bottle of vino certainly will! Only 15 days to go until the next conjugal ;-), she's more than worth waiting for!

I went to my alternative health person tonight. I'm going to keep their exact type of practice under wraps cos I'm not particularly happy with them (will refer to them as AHP). I've been out of the country for the last week so haven't had my usually weekly appointment. AHP: "So, we haven't seen you in a couple of weeks. I did recommend that you visit once a week." It wasn't so much what she said, but how she said it. I thought she was going to start twitching and then lash out at me with my file. It was like she was giving me into trouble for not coming. I'm thinking, hold on a second, I'm paying you an astronomical 15 minute rate! I'll decide when I want to visit! AND, I'm nearly 30! No-one's going to tell me what to do. Then it all started to make sense. AHP had just given me some treatment that I'd never had before. I'm thinking it's the type of treatment that may slightly hinder my "progress" and thus force me to come back every week. As I made my way home, I swear I couldn't walk properly and we'll see how long the pain in my neck lasts...When I was hobbling my way home some chav-gal walked past me and called me a hedgehog lol!

That's my evening so far.

Belisha beacon

I´m in Spain, it´s warm, my Spanish is zilcho. I have my factor 30 and a nice bike, the only thing that´s missing is my girrel. Well, that and the fact that I´m not on holiday. And I´m just hoping that I remember which buttons to click on to publish this post.

Milk drought

I'm now regretting my choice to leave Tescos yesterday without finishing off my shop. I've just realised that I don't have enough milk left to make some Green N Blacks hot chocolate - gutted! Let's look at what we're faced with here. Why, oh why, would I want to go to Tescos when it's rammed with screaming kids piling lots of shite into their trollies? And what's the point of being open 24 hours if your fresh fruit and veg is only available between 8am-6pm?! Surely that defeats the whole purpose of a 24 hour "convenience" store?!

Rambling

I'm on my own tonight, my girrel has gone to bed early. She's a saviour you know. She listens to all of my rambles and raahs all the while still seeming interested. She protects the general public from being subjected to my rants. In my eyes she's a super hero.

For the first time in donkeys, I've actually been responsible and finished my work before I began my faffing. I'm trying to be more organised. But there's nothing more enjoyable than doing something else when you're not doing the thing you should be doing. I've often found myself really, really, really putting off going to the petrol station. I detest feeling like I HAVE to do something, even if my car is at red. I'm getting deja-vu so apologies if I've already talked about this.


I stopped at Tescos on the way home tonight. *drops to the floor like a stroppy kid* OH-HOW-I-HATE SUPERMARKET SHOPPING! Tonight, I needed to do a really big shop and came back with: 1 x Radox shower gel, 1 x some Tesco finest bread with nuts that's double the price and you only get 4 slices, 2 x lottery tickets. I just couldn't bear the thought of having to spend any more of my time in there. I'll never get it back. Besides, I'm away next week so I'm sure I can get by on the selection of fridge and cupboard food that I have left. Thank goodness for the red onion chutney that my girrel bought for me on her last visit.

Manic Monday

Went out for a ride on my bike when I got home tonight. It made me feel much better. Tonight the temperature was quite a bit cooler, it was around 12 degrees. So out came the baselayer, bandanna, buff (yes i mean buff), full finger gloves. I love layering up when it gets colder. I sometimes think that I have a bit of a fetish for cycle clothing, but that's for another blog ;-)

Riding in the dark is a totally different experience. You feel like you're going faster than what you probably are, the fact that you can't make out the speed on your computer also aids this illusion. Cars are more visible because you see their headlights well in advance. There were a few people out walking, I had to stop myself from shouting "boo" as I passed them. I also had the urge to clothesline some chavs on some noisy mopeds. And some random bloke in a white van leaned out his window as i beat his clapped up vehicle to the next set of lights with the following advice"You need to practice those track stands love!" *giggles* why is it people feel compelled to shout at a chick on a bike?

Some shorts come with reflective material stitched into *ahem* the crack of your bum. I was minding my own business track standing at a set of lights and some local neds shouted at me "HA-ha! You've got a hole in your shorts!!!" I'm thinking, since when did alabaster skin, with a slightly reddish glow (let's assume that my posterior has the same healthy glow as my face), look like fricken silver reflective material?!

Anyways, I'm rambling. The ride took me out of grump and that's what counts. Here's some random pics for your perusal:

1. I spotted this whilst having a wee drinky-droo in Birmingham a couple of weeks ago. I've seen it all now. Voila - pay as you go hair straighteners:

Now, in case anyone has OCD and is slightly concerned about "sharing" the above straighteners with the general public, please see the note below:

I mean, am I just being a practical Lesbot here, but has anyone thought this through? Girrels, for those of you who apply make up when you're pissed, how difficult is it to get the lippy on straight? Even worse, how many of you have nearly lost an eye when you were reapplying eye liner when you were drunk? I know it's a major effort for me when I'm sober. But scolding temperatures and drunk women - I wonder how many girrels have frazzled their hair, singed an eyebrow, or burnt an ear or 2...I'm sure there was a funny smell in that toilet...


2. Glasgow - the city of culture.

Dammit! I can't turn it around!!! *hmph* I'm rebelling and refuse to rotate it!

3. Monday nights invariably end up being my comfort food nights. I was pushed for time when I got back for my ride so I chose to have baked beans on toast avec cheese. I switched on the tv when I sat down to have my dinner and the kitchen goddess Nigella Lawson was on. She makes it look so simple! No matter how hard i focused, when I looked at my plate, I still saw baked beans, cheese and toast. Word of advice, whatever you do, don't go for the "reduced sugar and salt with no artificial sweeteners!" If I had had sugar in my cupboard, I would've topped up my baked beans with it. They are dire people, screw the healthy option!

Of a similar tone, here's an image from the Warhol exhibition in Edinburgh

Meet the Fockers

Well, my g/f has accused me of being a one-hit wonder due to my lack of postings of late. In my defence, I've had lots on. Meh, same old, same old. Anyways, my folks -aka the Fockers- came down at the weekend. It was fab seeing them. I have to say that I'm struck by my Dad's clairvoyant ability. He always seems to book weekends to visit me, just when I really need to see them. We went out for dinner with some "continental" friends fae Germany *nod to Steffi* . My Dad cracked me up! After a few wee drinky-droos, there was absolutely no way my friends could understand his accent. I lost count of the times that I had to tell him to slow down lol. After fulfilling one Scottish stereotype, we tried to break down another - that Scottish folk are tight. We'd managed to prove our point successfully until the bill arrived.


Me - What's that charge?
Dad - Don't know, I don't have my specs on. Could you have a look at it?
Me - Service charge! Dad, don't tip, I'm not that impressed.
Dad - Does that say optional?
Me - Aye. That's shocking, they've just snuck that in there.
Dad - Fine, I'll give them half of that then if we don't have to pay it.


The following day we managed to talk the old yin into taking us to Auntie Betty's for breakfast. I insisted that we get a table in the main cafe. No point in splashing out at Bettys if people can't see you! Dad was funny - he knows his place and declared that he would sit with his back to the window so that we could people watch. He's well trained.

This pic is for my girrel - spotted it when I was raising my pinky with my Earl Grey in a china cup

Midnight feast

I'm ashamed to admit that I'm a midnight snacker. I don't seem to have any control whatsoever over my munchies. I wake up with an insatiable desire to eat what most normal folk would crave at 3am - plain tortillas, chocolate, biscuits, porridge, cereal, toast, powerbars (don't ask!). It was unfortunate for me that after visiting my friend Annika at the weekend, that I was sent back to York with a large jar of Jelly Beans.

It's funny, although I was in a mad eating frenzy, not too disimilar to a piranha attack on some flesh being dangled overboard. I was still compus mentis enough to pick out the flavours that I didn't like. Please see small bundle below just behind my alarm clock.



Bundle number 2. You can just make out a half eaten coffee flavoured bean at the top of the bundle. And I was lucky that I didn't mistake my ear plugs for the mango jelly variety!

Random Raah!

Gutted! I really wanted to upload some photos from my phone tonight. I've got some shots from biking in the Dales today and some shots from my trip to Scotland from the other week. Maar, I need to create yet another account to do this. So, not only am I a procrastinator, clearly I'm technically challenged as well (my g/f will love that I'm finally admitting to this!), or perhaps I'm just a regular person who just wants things to be easy. Is that too much to ask for a Sunday night blog?

Are we there yet? The weekend is just around the corner.

Bit of a stressful day. I had to stop myself, countless times, from pressing the button on my Bumblebee Transformer to try and relieve my stress. Bumblebee is fab. My Girrel sent him to me a couple of months ago. Bless her, I was opening the packaging when she was on the phone eagerly awaiting my reaction, when I noticed the sticker at the bottom of the packaging. It read (or words to the effect):

"Please note that toy doesn't actually transform. It makes noises instead."

Devastation. There was a long pregnant pause at my end of the phone. Dilemma. Do I want a Transformer that actually transforms or do I want one to really bug my workmates with? *starts to sing the theme tune* you know the one "Transformers, there's more than meets the eye. Transformers robots in disguise..." When I weighed up the odds, there was no argument. I wanted the non-transforming Transformer! I'm kinda hoping *hint* that maybe I'll get a transforming Transformer for my birthday folks. Oh, and I've also decided that which ever comes first, a pet or child, they're getting called Optimus Prime.

Anyways, so I've been a wee bit stressed, but my friend Helen popped round unexpectedly tonight for a quick cup of tea and a blether. Not long after Helen left my girrel called. It never ceases to amaze me how friends and loved ones can help put things into perspective. How sometimes they come into your life at just the right moment, just when you need them. They may not realise what they've done, but they've had an impact nonetheless. Moments like these cast away the grumpy shadows of a stressy day and make me feel thankful for the people that I have in my life.

A.M.

You have gone.
And come back,
My lamenting song
While the flavour still lasts,
It's not intense,
Not in that sort of way.
I'm more at ease now,
With each new day.

You're probably thinking, typical instant gratificationist, clearly the blog excitement has died down. Och naw, that's not the case dear reader. It's been a mad week. After coming back fae Scotland last weekend I flew out to Germany for a trade show - I'll spare you the details. I just got back yesterday. I'm in catching up mode with my online grocery shopping (which I've just done for the first time because it's taken me a full year to finally upgrade my paper clubcard to a plastic one, I feel like a proper adult now), boring domestic stuff for which I'll never get that time back and therefore resent doing it...etc, etc. You get the pic. I think I'll ask for a butler for my birthday.

Woo-hoo!

It's the last bank holiday weekend and I'm taking my friend Steffi up to Scotchland for the weekend. She moved over from Germany 3 years ago and we've been threatening to do Scotland since then, better late than never eh!

Picture the scene...queueing traffic on the A1 for hours, the sun beaming down on us and increasing my melanoma rate by the second Drivers in the UK are mad at the best of times. But if you take into consideration a bank holiday weekend and a sunny one at that, they're like rabid dogs! We're heading off straight from work at 4.30...hmm, I wonder what time we'll reach the beautiful sights of Scumby. Answers on a postcard please!

Such a perfect day!

I had the perfect start this morning. My girrel called for a wee morning chat and to tell me that my breakkie was ready (I pretend that she's calling me from the phone downstairs lol). I found a 50p-piece in my money jar this morning so that was the start to this morning's cawfee fund. And then discovered that I actually had 2 choc waffles left instead of one - result! *grin*

On my way to work supping my cawfee and chomping on my toast I got stuck behind a fricken tractor. Now, call me narrow-minded, but in the bike world, those bikes with skinny baldie tyres stay on the road and those with big chunky tyres go off road. So what in the hell are tractors doing on road? I think it's a conspiracy, with tyres like those they can obviously plough through fields not to mention the odd fence, small forest or house. So why, why, why, do they insist in going on road and holding up normal road goers en-route to work?!

Some good crack!

Here's a shocking wee joke courtesy of my friend Helen:

Lesbian goes to the gynaecologist because she's got some problems with her fu-fu. She gets up onto the examining table and pops her legs into the stirrups.

The doctor inspects her fu-fu and exclaims "My, you're very, very, very clean down there!"

Lesbian replies - "I should think so - I have a woman in twice a week!"

Hello, is it me you're looking for...?

Okey dokey, after a few days of disappointment my google search has finally come up trumps. Now, some may think that my search is a bit obvious, a bit direct, a bit of a stab in the dark but with the big light on, but hey - I got a hit!

I googled, wait for it: pathological procrastinator. And guess who was number 1 on the search? Moi! If only I new how to copy the damn page and post it on my blog!! D'oh!

What type of procrastinator are you?

I was googling my blog and stumbled upon - What type of procrastinator are you? http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=11294

You scored as a Defier/rebel
Your procrastination type is the defier, also known as the rebel. Defiers like to break the rules and rebel against chores and other assignments given to them. They take offense when given tasks by other people and are insulted by suggestions to change their habits. Rebelling is a normal thing that teens do to test how much power they have over their lives, but it can go past the common testing of rules and limits when some people "get stuck in the mode of rebelling."

I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed. I was hoping the result would be something along the lines of... "You're an accomplished procrastinator, always finding something to do that is less important than the task at hand - well done you!" Funny, I'm 29 so that rules out the teenage part. My Dad always said that I was a rebel without a cause when I was growing up. And in my last review at work, la grand fromage said that it was known that I didn't like procedures. Apparently, if there's a rule, I like to find my way around it. Knowing that I really HAVE to do something renders me utterly incapacitated. It's like there's some dark force within me that instantly repels against any attempt to start the required action. I'll be sitting down to do some work, whilst thinking about things I'll perchance glance out the window or at the walls. Then suddenly it's - "Oh, those walls could do with a bit of a washing!" You can't even wash painted walls!!! I'd just like to state for the record that I am currently on a late lunch and not avoiding my work. Right, I'm off to nick some chocolate cake from Steffi!

Awww naw!

I decided that I wouldn't bring any treats to work today, a decision that I'm so regretting. This was based on the fact that I awakened at 1.45am this morning and grabbed a choc waffle. I'm really bad, or really good (depending on which angle you view it from) at mid-sleep snacking. Picture Homer S lying in bed, belly protruding, crumbs on hairy chest and choc around his mouth - that's me, only I have more hair on my head!

I've looked in my drawer and all I have is out of date powerbars - don't ask, a very very small box of half eaten raisins, a vanilla powergel, and some toothpaste. I'm sure there's a recipe in there somewhere! Luckily for me, I'm heading over to a friend's for dinner after work. Admittedly, I'm not the best cook. I think it's more can't-cook-wont-cook type thing. Basically, if it can fit in a toaster then I'm there!

Girrel

She's the place where my heart goes,
She provides the balance,
She's the person cheering me on at the top of every steep climb,
She reaches into my soul as effortlessly as taking my hand,
I need her to linger much longer than the message she wrote on my bathroom mirror.
I'm not ready to wash away her scent just yet,
And I don't want to move her things just yet,
These reminders of her confirm how lucky I am.
She makes sense like a eureka moment over and over.
She excites every spec of matter that consitutes me.
She does this naturally.
She's so much more than this,
And she knows.

I love my bike

I went for a ride on my road bike tonight, in attempt to pedal my way to a better mood. It worked. There's nothing more satisfying than pulling off a track stand at a set of lights. Now, track stands are an acquired technique. Factor in clipless pedals, dodgy road surfaces, precipitation, wind, dumb drivers who stop within nanometres in front of your wheel, traffic lights that seem to take FOREVER to change, and the odd technical glitch. You get the drift.

I remember when I first started road biking. I was track standing at a set of traffic lights in Edinburgh. Here's me trying to look cool in all my gear with loads of traffic behind me. I get ready to balance my weight and then realise that my pedals have spun forward without any tension. My chain had slipped off. Before I had a chance to react, the not-so-cool-biker-chick
-still clipped into pedals- was no longer perpendicular to the ground. Now, the best way to deal with situations like this is to dust yourself down and then immediately, and I mean immediately, inspect your bike. Thus giving the impression that it was no biggy-smalls that you fell over, and indeed that you're tough enough not to be hurt. Also creates the impression that your steed is uber expensive.

There's definitely one thing that I'm envious of Belgium and the like, and it's the country's provisions for cycling. Cycling over there is the national sport, there are thousands of routes, clubs and races. People have respect for cyclists. In contrast, take my lovely home town of "What's it called - Scumbernauld." One of the last times I went riding, some local neds drove passed in a clapped out Vauxhall Corsa and lobbed a few chips in my direction. I'm not one normally who refuses a chippy, especially if it comes with some black pudding...But nothing irritates me more than people who flick their cigarette butts out of their car, not realising that it could hit you. I look forward to the day when I can have my revenge and squirt the contents of my water bottle through an offender's window.

Raaaah - Mondays!

Is it wrong that I keep hitting refresh on my browser so the my visit counter keeps increasing? Is it wrong that I had a choc waffle for my breakie and my elevenses?

I've decided that I'm in a grump today.

I snoozed until 7.59, at least an hour later than I should have. That was me trying to exercise the last amount of control before I had to commence my work day. Luckily for me I can get ready and dressed quickly, aka wonder woman style. The downside being that I fell out the shower when I started my first spin. Tonight, I'll be mostly filling in some holes in my bathroom wall and putting back up the shower curtain.

I guess the only saving grace is that we're all in this Monday mode together. The fact that I feel grumpy is somewhat put into perspective knowing that I'm not the only one.

Dear reader, if you're wading your way through Mundane-Morning blues, share it with us and get it off your chest! If nothing else, it's a good feeling knowing that others are suffering too!

I've just finished my last Belgian chocolate.

Relief, I've just remembered that I have one packet of chocolate covered Belgian waffles left, mmm...Yes, there's a wee Belgian theme going on here courtesy of my g/friend Sarah. She normally flies over, but apparently my chocolate and food demands have reached a certain limit that exceeds the standard baggage allowance for short haul flights. This time Sarah had no option but to drive over. Emptying her suitcase in favour of my peanut butter, honey and chocolate wasn't really an option.

It's funny, she left only 4.5 hours ago and I already feel empty. I've been trying to counteract this with said choc consumption but that's just no substitute...that realisation doesn't stop me from reaching for a waffle. My mum always said that my eyes were bigger than my belly!

Oh, and I've decided that I can't possibly start any work tonight until I can google my blog!

Day 1

So, I've just hugged my girrelfriend goodbye after a having her very close for the past 5 days. I wanted to have her linger in my sight for as long as possible, so I lead her out onto the motorway. Just to be sure that she took the correct exit that would take her south. Apparently not everyone is as dizzy as me - I always miss that junction!

My "plan" for this afternoon was to read the Sunday paper for a short while, then do some work. Famous last words! I read an interesting article about a blogger from Brussels who's just had her blog published and it's inspired me to start a blog. Now, I know I should be working. That's the problem with procrastination. You always know what you should be doing, but it's sooo much fun doing something else! Factor in that I'm a wee bit of an instant gratificationist. I genuinely wonder how I ever get anything done! Okey-dokey, I'm off to fiddle around with my new page lol!