Waffle cake creator and lover of all things purple

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West Sussex, United Kingdom

Friday, 29 March 2013

Willpower? I "Lent" it out

Oooooph. I am finding it exponentially torturous to not chow down upon the silky brown deliciousness of my forbidden chocolatey life partner. Chocolate and I shall be forever entwined in a firey love/hate emotional tango. I hate to love it and I love to hate it.

The countdown clock to Easter Sunday is at just under 2 days, and they are the shaping up to be the longest days of my life, in no small part down to being a technologically savvy drunkface who bought a massive high sleeper bed online without thinking about how to transport it home or, more crucially, whether it will even fit in my Harry Potteresque living space, under the stairs.

***long sigh*****

This has been my most bountiful Easter, in terms of edible prolate spheroids, since being spoilt by the “vicar's daughter” chocolately cash/egg cow of my childhood. I have had to implement a “Draw of Guilt” where I have hidden the work based donations (each with their accompanying post-it notes of support/torment for holding out on my melty true love for nearly 6 weeks) and a “Car-boot of Wanton Desire” where I have currently encased my larger, more seductive chocolate naughties.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I've done well with giving up chocolate this far.
I just don't focus on it anymore. In fact, I can barely focus on anything anymore, since replacing chocolate with week-day wine and excessive cake consumption. Oooops.

Frustratingly, I just know that, come 00:01 on the Sunday morning, I will be face gap deep in a sick inducing gorgefest. In fact, it's suddenly occurred to me that we are losing an hour this weekend and therefore, perhaps, as I've been such a good girl, that maybe I can start at 11pm on Saturday instead? No? Pfffffft. Spoil sport.

On a completely unrelated note, ahem, I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that have, what *some* might consider, a “bit of a problem”.

Work colleagues are even starting to make comment about my completely uncontrollable expression of physical pain and almost tangible distress that emote "all about my baaaaaad self (brap brap)" when I forgo my diabetes kickstart treats for a day. Apparently, I made reference to cake about 20 times during one period of withdrawal. How tedious is that?! Ooooooh the shame. My office is always a hotbed beautifully homemade sugar filth too, which really doesn't help. (Just look at the cake someone made for paddy mcguiness day!)

So I'm taking hold of my "bit of a problem", tightly round it's sugar lumps, and will dominate the calories out of it , right into healthy submission.

My colleague and I are embarking upon the noble(idiotic) quest to completely rebuke and discard cake/chocs/sweets/treats/joy from our lives in the first week of May, just to see if we can.

I know, right? I'm the catalyst of fun.
****another long sigh******
Will power is hard :o(






Thursday, 28 March 2013

Late Night Blog Shift

************************************************
Oh um, hi, 2am.
....
Didn't expect to see you here? Er yeah. Been a while huh?
......
I mean week nights? Really? I thought we were over all this silliness? Yeah I'm sorry we haven't met up in a while too, but you can't just turn up on a school night and expect me to pick up where we left off. I've moved on. Midnight and I are going steady now. I can't even imagine staying out when I could be in bed, by midnight, almost every night! (the saucy little minx).
....
I know this is a unique scenario, what with it being a leaving do with work colleagues, but in a way that makes this even harder. 7 coronas can't fix this for us, even if my colleagues say it could work out. We just don't get on in that way. You always seem to change into 3 and, in the worst case scenarios, 4am the next day! I can't even recognise you. And you aren't getting the best of me either. You're looking at a girl who impulse bought a 84" high loft bed frame that probably won't fit through the halway, let alone in the flat. Look, even the laziness in my eye comes out when we meet up.


We are a toxic combination.
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Drunk me, there. On the late night blog shift.
Thanks for your, er, contribution. Oh. And for the little "gift" of dehydration, remorse, and a rather large (both in terms of physical size and financial commitment) ebay purchase you've left me to sort out today.



Drunk me is a twat.

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Party like it's 1992.

How did parties even happen in 1992 without facebook invites and twitter hashtags? Anyway, I digress (already. This doesn't bode well)

For those of you not in the know, I decided, as of Tuesday 20th March, to give up on social networking until Easter.

Nearly a week in, and all I want to know is where I can get my methadone equivalent of instant validation? I miss having an open forum for ideas through chatting to old friends and insulting new ones. I miss the passive and dilute accreditation a "like" or "share" imparts. I even miss those ridiculously mundane "greeting card quotes" and that old chap out of original trek space frontier whatsit.

I have enforced a detachment from the succulent bosom of digital social interaction in an attempt to push myself into doing wondrous things with all that time I'll save.

(Ha)

Sadly, the quality communication I was striving to rekindle as part of this initiative, has encountered a *couple* of hiccups. In the supermarket last week, I was interrupted mid cake quandary by "is this the naughty isle then?" from a gent who was, as it was later pointed out by my more astute friendshapes, probably wanting my assistance with an entirely different kind of "what's for desert?" Dilemma. Awkward.

Even the simple act of paying at the checkout was a bit of a farce. You know that glazed look of boredom and impatience you reserve for overly talkative shop assistants and the X-factor? Well I ended up on the painful end of that look after a conversation a kin to:
"Ooooh I'm really looking forward to this bottle of wine. It's a bit more expensive than the ones I'd usually go for, but I saw it there, with all it's awards and shiny labels and thought what the hey. I struggled picking a desert too. [This content has been removed to prevent catatonic boredom].... which is why I bought them both. Oh!.... Erm.....I'm sorry for going on, it's been a really quiet day at the office."
Yep. I apologised to sales assistant for rogering my brain tedium right up her. New low, right there. Well, it was, until I accidentally elbowed a pregnant woman right in the foetus at the weekend. But that's another story.

By Thursday, I was sleep by 10 as the airless vacuum of time that faced me was a bit too much to digest in one oppressive turdlump of empty.

Thankfully, Friday arrived and I finally remembered I have wine, er... friends! Proper 3D ones with houses, and movies and corkscrews and everything. I would like to say that I recalled the rest of the evening but I ended up filling my wine bottle with air in less than 2 hours and then "celebrated" by sending text based head dribble via blogger and SMS at god-earsnoseandthoat o'clock on Saturday morning. Oooops

Looks like the "wondrous things" I'd planned to achieve sans Facebook is going on hold for now.

Friday, 22 March 2013

Friday! all up in your George Forman! innit though, A RhD positive!

I have made what can, in all honesty, be labelled in the most broadest of terms as a fox pase:

(Ok. This works better in person as you would (as an astute, erudite and witty {[oh ok you got me, middle class] friend of mine} notice that a) I have polished off an entire bottle of 2001 Rioja Reserve to myself in less that 2 hours {mainly due to the glassware detritus I have left for you to recycle [because I can't be bollocked to] in your house} and b) this is a skit I do about "faux pas" allllllll the chocolateloving damned time)

Have not only forgotten how the hell grammar works, but I have also decided to leave my car at my friend's house so I can have a bit of a drinkipoo.

This plan (or flan, as you might accidentally type as a mildly intoxicated and carb addicted individual) is floored in ever so many ways.

Firstly, the metal death machine is now at least 3 miles walk away. Now this route is brightened by the presence of at least 12 licensed premises:

({alcohol licensed, not fishing rod licences or something. Although I'm pretty sure you're running late on those guys, so, you know. Renew at your local post office . http://www.postoffice.co.uk/rod-fishing-licence
[just check out those super duper air drowning benefits]}.
Well, I didn't count them exactly, but I certainly took a fairly accurate estimate of how many of these establishments *may* have screw-top wine bottles. This was after I decided, a few weeks back, my jog that way *might* be slightly easier if I took my trusty corkscrew out of my bag. {Only about 7 of the 12 do screw tops, just incase you're interested})

Which also lines the beautiful sussex countryside. Yet, last time I did the walk (alone and at night, I might add) I was haunted by two white clad hooded youths, clearly looking for ghoulish trouble in their ghostly realm, who stared errirly out from a 1st floor window, and some teenage rapscallions who seemed to brandish half drunk litre bottles of strong spirits, in brain mashing glass vessels, which terrorised the most dangerous level crossing, *engage clarkson* in....this....gaaaaaalaxy. I was a bit scared/old.

Yet, the main bastard of this narrative resides in the fact that I have to overtime at work tomorrow and I have (at the very least) got a 45 min excruciatingly hungover walk/stagger required to collect my leg saving husk of dinosaur guzzling mayhem during tomorrow's A to the M

Who the frickidy frick thought that would be a good idea? Oh yeah. The super snazzy "multi award winning" shiny label of lovely red stuff. I remember. Bastard.

Man. That's a long winded way of saying, "fuck! I need my car in the morning and I'm going to have the most horrific, self induced and lonely hangover.

I should probably get it *oooooon* (is that what people say now PJ and Duncan are no longer rap god heroes?) with some cool as ice bit of H2"motherrespecting"0 about my Godfearing bad self.

Brap.

Byeeeeeeee



Dammit!

I forgot to disengage Clarkson!!

Quick! Everyone say something about equal pay for females. That ought to sort it!

Sunday, 17 February 2013

Wakey wakey!

I'm back. I decided to do writing stuff again YAY. It's been a heck of a while since I have put time aside to get my thoughts down on paper, or erm, uploaded and globally accessible on the digiverse.

 Honestly. Back in my day if someone so much as saw the cover of your inner head warble book you'd be mortified, but now if you don't get some emoticon based form of recognition from your old primary teacher and your friend's puddy cat's social media presence you feel like a failure.

I feel like popularity, and the constant strive for it, has increased in intensity later in life, and that the digital age of instant procrastination has played a fundamental role.

For one, there are more areas of competition as you grow up. Family / relationships / career / possessions / achievements / physical appearance / finances / intelligence. The list of things that one strives to achieve "first" or "best" seems to grow exponentially with what I have decided to refer to as "experience". ( I'm getting quite touchy about -AGE- urgh. This year marks a milestone birthday. more on that at a later date.)

 The "keeping up with the jones'" effect has been prominent in society for as long as I recall, but I think social media had enabled this to reach disgustingly dizzy heights. With news streams full of scan photos, holiday snaps, new job updates, relationship statuses and "how much do you know about theoretical physics, I bet it's less than me, you idiot" quizzes, is it any wonder that people feel pressured into conforming with their peers? I know I have fallen victim to it too. I feel genuinely put out if people haven't enjoyed something i consider a bit quirky or witty I've shared on my Facebook. (Don't worry though, it's a rare occasion where I don't get recognition for my genius). Just yesterday I took a quiz "how many words do you know" because a comedian, whom I've not even seen perform, posted that according to the quiz they knew 45,000 and I wanted to see how I compared. (Worse, annoyingly)

 I just worry that our need to "upload" and "update" can have a negative affect on self esteem. Not everyone can afford holidays. Not everyone can get pregnant. Not everyone has found their special someone. The constant stream of "look what I've done, I'm doing life right" can create a falsified pressure on individuals within social circles to comply. Ever noticed how you seem to have one wedding after the next to go to? Or how many "congrats on your new parasitic life form" cards you send out in quick succession? Seeing others in your social circle achieving in certain areas tends to instigate these actions and milestones in your own life.

20 years ago, your social circle would include a few of the people you knew growing up, or who live near you, or you work with. With the addition of social networking, your circle can include people who share an interest from all over the world, people who your mum's friend used to babysit that one time, even people who just have the same name as you because, wow you're so RAD n'that. We are receiving social pressure from people we don't even know.

 This has even become evident in how celebrities have evolved from secretive god like apparitions, to flawed, needy children vying for attention. The pressure to have the most digi-stalkers, most "likes" "shares" etc has hit most areas of society, encouraging all people, from your next door neighbour, your local MP right up to, I don't know, NDUBS? to divulge areas of their private lives in the hope of receiving recognition and to feel validated.

I'm not saying we shouldn't share our precious news and achievements online, but I think we a) shouldn't feel compelled to
and b) we should be aware of our motivations behind it.
Sharing news via social media because distance is a factor between you and your friend is slightly different to deliberately posting about a new romance hoping your cheating scumbag of an ex sees how much better off you are without them, or showing off your promotion to people who doubted you. Not that I've done that of course. *awkward*

I think we should also try and remember that "just because everyone else has, doesn't mean we should". Being the best "you" is what we should all strive for. Not to tick off milestones because everyone else has.

Anyway. That's the end of my little rant. I shall attempt a more light hearted blog next time :-)

Saturday, 7 May 2011

~:: 'AV it, you slaaaaag ::~

(now there's a headline the Sun will be gutted they didn't think of :-p )

Part 1: wednesday night waffle

Hiya. I hope you haven't been waiting long. I just got a bit, well, caught up with things.

I am lying in bed, with over 2 nights worth of sleeplessness boring into my very core, whilst battling with the stark realisation that if I want to do my civic duty tomorrow, I need to be out the house before 7am. For tomorrow is the vote for the right for votes to be counted right night (or day if you wish to be more abstract in your poetic structural form....and accurate). I know this is important and that if I don't go, I don't earn the right to voice an opinion about political decisions in the future, but.... I really need some sleep.

Sleep has managed to elude me for the past few nights. Maybe it's the pressures of my job, maybe it's the obscene amount of chocolate I accidentally consumed before remembering that chocolate is full of caffeine, sugar and regret... Who knows. All I know right now is my "Bubbliness",
( which I can only assume is the envy of skinnyminnies everywhere as I have not once heard a chickstick describe herself as "bubbly" (look... Being bubbly is fun, and fun things make me smile, and smiling burns more calories, ok? Ask anyone)) <--- (hehe that looks like a double chin!....erm....anwho..)
, has become a lot less bubble and much more bitch. I am a complete nightmare to be around right now. I'm kinda wishing the BFG was real so he could lock me away with all the other bad dreams until i learn my lesson.

-------------

Part 2: Saturday morning remorse

Today is now Saturday. I wrote the above on Wednesday night, back when I still believed this country gave a damn about fairness and innovative ways to achieve it.

I have seen the result of the av and I am completely shocked that only a third of voters wanted to see their votes count for something. Even Brighton, the first elected green seat in national elections, voted No. It's painfully ironic though, as I believe there were only 450ish votes in it. This is where your vote counted to make future votes count. I am tired of my vote being worth nothing based on the fact I live in a blue zone.

This is the nail in the coffin for liberal representation in the current political decision making process. I am strongly opposed to the lib dem u-turn on education but the coalition means there is an additional level of discussions that needs to be entered into before the tories can legally "get their laaaaw, ov'a our countr'e" (see edl march anthem on YouTube to appreciate reference)

This political kick in the face for a liberal (fair and correct) way of counting votes has weakened the UK's faith in what the lib dem side of the government can achieve. This is a bad thing, and worries me. I can't currently see how the lib dems can recover from this.

It is looking very much like the blues have won the battle and the war.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Fat Tuesday on a Monday - Previews

I truly have no idea where to start with this. I was completely blown away by the performances of both comedians last night, that I’m struggling to find a way to structure my thoughts.

Kevin Eldon. How the hell can you sum that man up in a few measly words?
I will start by saying he is definitely a face of comedy rather than a brand name. A surprising number of (sub par) people will not necessarily recognise him by name, but show them a photograph of the chap and they will be able list a whole ream of Kevin's comedy gold appearances.

Most notable, to me at least, is his collaborations with Bill Bailey, both in live performance and in shows such as Black Books. The two of them play off each other like a beam of light reflected off a watch face, teasing the audience with their brilliance much like you can tease an over excited kitten with a blob of sunshine.

I arrived a little early to Fat Tuesday’s Monday Special. On my rather tedious journey, I had decided to personally name the evening "Morbidly Obese Monday", but then realised it sounded more like a government funded awareness campaign or Gok Wan’s new TV series than an amusing play the original title of the evening, so decided to keep my new made up name for the evening a secret. Wise move on my part.

Arriving early to an event quite often happens to me when travelling over 50 miles to see a bucket load of funnies. Luckily, Rosie and Tiernan are lovely and let me sit upstairs to stay out of trouble. Kevin arrived soon after, laden with a bag of mystery and a guitar. Whilst he set up, he let slip that this was his very first preview of his very first solo show. He seemed genuinely nervous about sharing his newly written show-child with a room, soon to be filled with 60 paid up audience members, all ravenous for quality entertainment. Reflecting back, the reality of performing untested works in front of people who've paid to see it must be terrifying.
Tiernan reassured Kevin that the Fat Tuesday crowd of attendees are well versed in the way of “The Preview” and that on the whole, we are all good eggs.

The mob of giggle starved individuals started to take to their seats, eagerly awaiting their gargantuan feast of comical genius. I hadn’t been this excited about a show for months. I try not to get too full of bubbly anticipation, just in case my expectations of awesome and wonderment end up being greeted by the stale, desiccated pangs of disappointment, but I just couldn’t help it. Kevin Eldon! I have wanted to see this guy strut his funky stuff for years and now I get to be a part of the “First Preview” experience. I sat there, trying to reposition my expectations to an achievable level, before anxiously awaiting kevin to bring the magic.

I am not going to talk about the show for fear of spoilers but WOW can that man BRING IT! His nerves seemed to melt into nothingness and the multitalented man of many voices, delivered a practically seamless show of highly intelligent and witty spheres of utter genius. We were hit with musical interludes, intellectual musings, terrifyingly accurate impressions; it was an honour to behold, and one which you should all seek out. Go! Go now!

The second preview of the evening was performed by the loveliest of ladies, Tara Flynn.

Tara is a miniature whirlwind of Irish charm and beauty. She has melted many a chocolate lover’s heart as the voice of the Caramel Bunny in Ireland, recorded sketches for Stewart Lee’s comedy vehicle and more recently entertained students / housewives / layabouts with her rather saucy character performance on the daytime soap opera Doctors.

I have seen Tara perform a number of times at the London Comedy Improv, but this is the first time I'd seen her perform her own show, and more surprisingly, the first time I'd ever seen her sing.

For her new show “Big Noise”, she has returned to her original comedy roots and written an abundance of quality songs, each with a clever and insightful twist of humour. Tara seemed a little bit nervous, which may have led to the occasional stumble over links, but the quality of her song performance was outstanding. As soon as the musical introduction started, you could feel her passion for the song devour the whole room. Throughout the show, Tara demonstrated her envious ability to adopt and dominate a range of different musical styles ranging from 80’s throwback to varying parodies of modern day musical embarrassments. The songs were accompanied by a wave of satirical dance routines which were theatrically performed with all the vigour and gusto of someone who is truly in love with what they do. It’s incredibly refreshing to see a comedian/musician who graces the stage with such fervour for their art. The room was incredibly hot, which started to affect tara’s voice slightly towards the end, but I can honestly say I have not heard a live performance with such a rich and luxurious vocal tone for quite some time.

If you like songs by the likes of Bill Bailey, you will love Tara’s show. Please go and see it when you visit the Fringe festival this year.

I really love seeing the Edinburgh previews. They are a delight to witness as you get to see things evolve and grow whilst feeling like an important part of it.

The Fat Tuesday team are playing host to a number of previews on the run up to August. Do check out their website for further details.

Sunday, 6 June 2010

Rage against the Washing Machine

So instead of being in London rocking out with friends and seeing one
of the most noteworthy bands of the 1990's sticking it to the man, I'm sat inside feeing very sorry for myself.

The highlight of my day so far has been my trip to the laundrettes where I got to watch my washing wizz around in a blurry circle, not too dissimilar to how my head is currently feeling.
The soak and soap part of the wash is now over which would ordinarily lead directly into the "lug the sodden clothes into the next available clothes oven". Only it appeared that every single Worthingite decided to leave their clothes to simmer gently on a medium heat for the next hour. I was now stuck in a room, which I'm convinced reaches temperatures akin to the suns surface, with a heaped pile of what should now be wearable clothing but is instead a sea of damp man made threads, just praying that someone decides to come and claim their toasty undies sooner than they originally anticipated.

Then, as if an ethereal force had heard my whiney self important plea, an elderly gentleman slowly pottered over to his designated heat circle to examine his tea towels. I got rather excited about this. This could be the big break my clothes and I had been waiting for! I picked up the dripping basket containing my rather sorry looking fabric based skin coverings, ensuring I positioned myself in a prime pouncing position to claim this dryer as my own. The gentleman started to remove his holiday collection of cotton based dish driers when he suddenly paused. Pausing mid removal of items is never a good sign. Something was wrong! His towels were clearly not meeting with his expectations! This granddad had realised he was going to have to make the clearly impossible decision over which of these square sheets had not met the required temperature.

I would like to point out at this juncture, that tea towels are in a state of dampness the vast majority of the time. Unless you're middle class enough to have a machine which cleans your pots for you, or the nearest thing you come to class is insisting your guests eat their take away over the lid of a pizza box, you will know that however few your dishes are, when you come to dry them, your towel will be wetter than an English summer. Surely then, knowing that most humans have this scientific knowledge of the humble tea towel, please explain to me why this man decided to ponder for the next 10 minutes over which items he would return to the rotating jaws of the drying monster and then proceed to only put the dryer on for a further 3 minutes? I do not understand!

I was left feeling bereft of an opportunity to finally dry my belongings. The crumbly old man had taunted with the possibility of toasty dryness, and then made a fool of me as I was left to stand there with the mountain of my things which were still stuck in a state of clothing limbo. I can only imagine this is how the educational runts they picked for contestants on the Million Pound Drop show felt. I was almost expecting Davina to come into the laundrette, ready to point out the bleeding obvious but in a way that is supposed to appear comforting.

While the clock refused to tick, another gentleman arrived to check on his dryers. Yes. DRYERS PLURAL! The cheeky little cretin had taken up 2 of these heat spinners when it was abundantly clear that a queue of soggy sock laden people had started to form. Well ok, so he had set his stuff off before I got there, and the queue really only consisted of me, but I was certainly hacked off enough to generate the disgruntled atmosphere of an over crowded post office.

Time passed slower than a kidney stone and almost as painfully, until the first gentleman had finally managed to neatly fold every single one of his precious chuffing dish rags and place them into his rather twee looking wicker basket.

At last! I finally managed to put my clothes in to cook for 40 minutes!

By now the heat of the room as well as the situation had made me feel even worse than I did before. I was so sick in fact, that I found myself thumbing through the most monstrous of shiny sheet publications “pick me up”. This diabolical excuse for a magazine, known for its callous sensationalism of torturous heartache from people who aren’t usually bright enough to realise that bleeding their private lives in this format will only benefit the publishers, tends to make me very angry indeed. This pile of papery turd adds insult to injury by highlighting the most emotive sentences in the story, just in case the reader finds the rest of the English language too tiresome. Grrr! I didn’t manage to hold out for very long before concluding that I would rather gouge out my own liver with a paper clip than continue reading. Ironically, that will probably feature in next week’s double spread.

It was a further 30 minutes before I could reclaim my clothes from their ordeal and leave the laundrette of nightmares. I truly despise the experience every single time I’m there, but when you are poorly and instead of rocking it to the max you’ve found yourself in a room that time forgot, my deep routed hatred of the whole laundrette social narrative multiplies 10 fold.

I can not believe I have just managed to spew about 2 A4 sides worth of words about my afternoon in a laundrette. If you stayed until the end, good for you :o)

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

Fringe preview: Kent Valentine / Fablemonger

Previewing his 5th solo show “Fablemonger”, Kent Valentine arrived at the Albion Hotel in Brighton to take part in the £5 Fringe. Kent is an Australian comedian who is renowned for his ability to immerse the audience in autobiographical narrative. As his own protagonist, he takes a handful of memorable moments from his past and weaves a tapestry of pithy prose.

Having no previous awareness of this particular comedian, I had no preconceptions of how this show would develop. As he took to the front, he appeared to be shrouded in self depreciation which made his entrance a little underwhelming. This filled me with the sort of unease you might experience when watching an entrant walk uncomfortably into an audition.

I was completely and utterly wrong.

From the moment Kent addressed the audience, his personality spilled out and engulfed the attention of the audience for the entire duration of his show. Although it may appear that Kent travels fairly light in terms of material quantity, the quality and level of detail he injects into each story makes “Fablemonger” truly compelling.

Kent manages to paint an emotional masterpiece of awkward, poignant and sometimes even explosive situations. We were taken on a journey through childhood foolishness, as well as more recent situations involving computer games, the creation of child and trying to pick the correct baby transportation apparatus. The dryly delivered descriptive commentary of these personal memories seems to open a window into the glorious yet rather insane logic of this witty man. He has developed the fine art of prolonging suspense until you physically try and hide yourself from the inevitable crescendo to the magnificently unbelievable finale of each story.

I felt Kent’s Fablemonger show was very well structured and beautifully delivered. I heartily recommend adding it to your list of shows to see at the Fringe this year.

http://www.kentvalentine.com/index.html

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Tuesday, 18 May 2010

Tiernan Douieb – Work in progress Edinburgh preview show

Tiernan's Fringe 2010 show “Littlest things” focuses on a few moments in his life where individuals surpass all assumed expectations, by expressing an act of unexpected kindness.
This show delivers a refreshing breeze of positivity into a form of entertainment which is so often used as a soap box to complain about life.

Furnished with a large cheeky grin, Tiernan took himself to the front of the curtain cladded little room at the Albion Hotel which has currently been commandeered by the £5 Fringe Team.

He began his fledgling show by explaining that it was still a work in progress and although the structure is sound, some of the links may be a bit flakey.
It soon became clear that he had been overly cautious with his warning, as Tiernan’s confidently solid performance was warmly recognized by an array of giggling attendees. Tiernan’s clean and almost childlike style of situation humour managed to tease a chuckle out of every age group present.

The backbone of the hour focused on delightfully sweet, anecdotal natter about 4 main influences. These main stories were then skillfully punctuated with sneaky page-break interludes. Snippets of amusing and sometimes silly happenings would build up to a crescendo of cleverly constructed puns.
The show was well paced and engaging which kept the audience completely on side. Tiernan is a well seasoned MC and makes audience interaction appear completely effortless as he quick fires a torrent of amusing retorts to the crowd led content section of the show.

There was the odd moment where the crib sheet was needed and the occasional link which would benefit from a touch of fine tuning but given this was the first preview after a rewrite, Tiernan made for a very enjoyable hour of comedic entertainment.

For more information about up coming shows, please visit his website: www.tiernandouieb.co.uk

Thursday, 6 May 2010

Review: Fat Tuesday- headliner Tim key

I have been thinking about how to write this review. I have read so many verbose, textually stunning pieces of literary art, depicting an evening as if it were the last sunset they would ever see. Beautiful as they are, I've decided I would just opt for telling you what it was like.

"Fat Tuesday", not to be confused with any of those other thyroid deficient week days, is a comedy night founded, run and usually MC’ed by one of lonely planet's London landmarks, Tiernan Douieb.

The night has been running for over 5 years and draws in both new and well established acts, not to mention a packed audience. Starwars day was no exception. All tickets had sold out and there was even a point during the evening, when a war nearly broke out over seating arrangements. The war was eventually extinguished by a lovely gentleman who graciously gave up his seat so a couple could sit together. Living fricking legend, that fella.

Greeted on this occasion by a delightful mini cup cake, we took our seats amongst a plethora of mismatched furniture, neatly placed in tightly packed rows.

Tiernan opened the evening with the classic “who are you? What do you do?" warm up. He struck gold with a man on the third row who turned out to be a scientist called Dr Steinenburgh (Ok, I forgot his actual name but it sounded like an evil genius) who has an army of robots who cut people up, and which occasionally play the drums.

After we had been well and truly warmed with laughter, and the body heat of about 50+ people crammed into a rather intimate venue, the first act of the evening, James Acaster came to the stage.

Instantly proving his keen eye and ability to improvise, James started his act by reuniting two friends, stuck at the entrance of the gig, with a gentleman sat at the front. James had noticed that this man had recognized his friends during the warm up and thusly started to point and text them. Having selected his “mark”, James continued probe the man for information which rolled seamlessly into his personable routine.

The audience immediately warmed to James, as he shared his stories of social awkwardness and great days out. He kept us enthralled as he crept around the stage, physically reenacting some of the more cringe worthy moments of his past. James has a very real and genuine outlook to his performance which makes him exceedingly likable.

The second of the night came the most notorious “sorry, madam. This one’s broken. Can you hear that?” man from the Crunchy Nut adverts, Matt Green. I spent the whole evening (in between enjoying myself immensely) trying to work out where I had seen him before. I was so relieved when I finally it worked out, which was instantaneously followed by sense of deep sadness. My life has seemingly shifted to agonizingly trying to place people I have seen in breakfast cereal advertisements.

Matt is a dry witted comedian who confidently delivered his preview show with an incredibly calm persona. His polished performance encapsulated the audience as he described his frustration at the “volcanic ash advisory centre”in Kent, the embarrassing turmoil which can occur following a bed full of rose petals and he concluded his set by sharing a ridiculously funny tale involving a blissfully unaware gentleman, a bin and a rat. He is previewing his Fringe show in Brighton this month.

Tiernan punctuated the acts by producing his Real or Made Up Band Name quiz,featuring such awesome names as:
“Elephantitus”
“Tubelord”
“Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs”
“Oooh Danone”

I really want there to be a band called Oooh Danone. I think they would be actively good. (Sorry :-p)

The last act of the first half was Rude Tube front man Alex Zane. I had been chatting with him for a little while prior to the show, thinking “he looks very much like that dude off that You Tube clip show”, but decided I was mistaken because firstly, he was talking to me, and secondly he seemed unusually nervous.

His nerves followed him on to the stage, but despite his occasionally erratic delivery, he created some lovely material. His set focused heavily on movies, which meant a couple of jokes were inaccessible to people unfamiliar with a particular movie reference, but there were many notable moments of awesome such as the amazing imagery of mind wrestling food stuffs with drawn on faces. It is clear that Alex’s show is still a work in progress, but once it has been finely honed, it will be an interesting show to see at the fringe this year.

After a wee break, in both the colloquial and literal sense of the word, the second part of the night was due to start.

Tiernan opened the second half by previewing some of his new material. Now, as Tiernan had been MCing all evening, my memory has managed to muddle itself up (the fact I had had 2 pints by this stage is merely coincidental), but I will attempt to review it just the same.

Tiernan, predominately known for his delightful use of word play and endearingly unique view on the world, has once again kept his material topical by focusing on current political events. Citing his amusing take on the current debate, he made the audience chuckle by comparing the last week’s political debate with family feud. Although the content of his material may be slightly “hazey” to me, the audience definitely enjoyed his ramblings. It will be interesting to see how his topical material evolves passed May 6th. Tiernan is previewing his solo show at Brighton Fringe on the 6th / 7th May.

Nat Luurtsema was the only female act of the evening. I worry when a female comedian takes to the stage as so many of them focus their material solely on the female stereotypical themes. It upsets me to see comedians talk of nothing cake, weight, periods and boyfriends. Luckily Nat hadn’t fallen completely into this trap. She made reference to make up, breasts and feminism, but these topics were usually interspersed with a dark punch line. The act was slightly slow in pace, with a couple of pauses which seemed to linger slightly, but she definitely won the hearts of those who attended.

The second to last act of the night was a magical number by Peter Firman.
Peter took to the spot light with carrier bag and a smile. As a sworn in member of the magic circle, he has vowed to keep the methods of his art a secret. For this reason, his disappearing party ring trick still tortures me with untold mystery. Peter's pun filled one liners recieved a fondly meant, and most likely expected, groan from the audience which lead into his final trick involving his carrier bag of cooking ingredients.

The finale of this star studded evening featured the renowned poet Tim key. This literary genius has made televisual appearances, reading his disjointed nuggets of creative gold, on Charlie Brooker's BBC4 show "screenwipe", as well as co hosting "We need answers" with Mark Watson and Alex Horne.
After what can only be loosely described as "smartening up" by including a tie about his person, Tim commenced his act by reading out his poetic masterpieces and surreptitiously punctuating the poem with underlying narrative. He also went on to give the audience advice on becoming a successful poet and told us tales of personal experience.
Tim's dead pan and broody delivery of his poet character, seemed to melt the audience who were hanging on his every action, including a teeth clenching few moments where his actions involved performing a difficult party trick.

All in all, Fat Tuesday has been the best comedy show I've experienced in London so far this year. I have never had the pleasure seeing of so many brilliant acts for such a steal of a ticket price. Do check out the Fat Tuesday line up here = http://www.tiernandouieb.co.uk/fattuesday-listings.htm
and make sure you order your tickets in advance to avoid disappointment

Saturday, 17 April 2010

Bloggidy boo!


It's Saturday afternoon and I'm still lying in bed wondering what to do for the day. Sadly, my pondering has left me with very little of today left to um... do.

I have been listening to 6 music today as the Irish grumpmister michael legge had somehow pleaded his way into the still luke warm seat of Richard herring, who is finishing his hitler moustashe tour.

For those of you that haven't listened to the precious little podcast, michael is rather colourful in his handling of the english language. Yes *English* language, suck it up Irish/scotish/Canadian imitators, we got the language first. This led to most precious little podos being hooked on the 3 hour show, awaiting the inevitable moment where a naughty word slipped out. To our mild disappointment, Michael and andrew both did splendidly. I was quite surprised at the level of broadcasting chemistry between the pair of them. I was left pondering how they would explain their broadcasting infidelity to their respective broadcasting partners.
.....
James holding a defensive stance, his back to michael looking over his shoulder, holding back the tears "why didn't you come to the precious little recording michael?" Michael fumbling with his fingers, before mumbling "i had something on in London." in a voice only loud enough for James (and maybe leprecauns) to hear. "something on michael? You mean like being *on* the radio with another host?!" James would say while storming over to the laptop and blaring out the iplayer version.
.....

Anyway.

This week has been interesting. It started with my friends wedding on saturday, which left me fearing for my health after we all decided to eat part of the plastic table decorations.

Tuesday I went to see the recording of Russell howard's good news which was fab. They has the French spiderman as the special guest. He was brilliant. I watched the broadcasted version on thursday, and they actually cut out the best parts of the interview which included a story of him getting a boner while seeing a nudey woman in a building he was scaling, and how he continually gets arrested.

Most excitingly of all, I was introduced to the wonders of an oyster card! How the fricking hell have I not had one of these before? I felt like some kind of VIP flashing my access card when I could hop through the barriers while others needed to fiddle about with peasent paper passes. Muhahaha I'm now queen of the underground.

Friday I had an internal interview which consisted of a role play presentation where I had to present our internally configured management system as a customer relationship management tool. This was quite a feat as the only reason we don't sell it is because it isn't currently marketable. The other tricky thing about this situation is the fact that we are predominately a recruitment software house which meant I had to do a lot of research. Now the idea of "selling" something is new to me. I'm really a techical person rather than sales, but luckily this worked in my favour when I had to answer development questions which were thrown my way. I still haven't fully decided which route I want to take my career in. Do I want to move into management or into technical? The role I am being interviewed for is SME Account Manager (which I already do as I manage 40 accounts on top of my other workload). Taking this job would mean I would have management in my title, but would mean I would be leaving the techical configuration side behind. Tricky

I should hear back next week if they want to have an informal face to face interview with me.


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Monday, 12 April 2010

Mafia Banks

I was shocked to discover that Natwest is a Mafia bank that is getting in the way of my funds being transered. Thank the lord for Rev. Pastor James:

From: REV.PASTOR JAMES [info@rev.com]
Subject: THE TRUTH ABOUT YOUR FUND(REV.JAMES)

Greetings,

I am Rev. Pastor James Smith. a computer scientist working with central bank of Nigeria. I just started work with C.B.N. and I came across your file which was marked X and your released disk painted RED, I took time to study it and found out that you have paid VIRTUALLY all fees and but the fund was not released to you.

The most annoying thing is that they won't tell you the truth that on no account will they ever release the fund to you, instead they allow you spend money unnecessarily, I do not intend to work here all the days of my life, I can release this fund to you if you can certify me of my security.

I needed to do this because you need to know the statues of your Funds and cause for the delay, Please this is like a Mafia setting in Nigeria, you may not understand it because you are not a Nigerian. The only thing needed to release this fund is the Anti drug/terrorist clearance certificate which will be tendered to any of your nominated bank and the INTERNAL REVENUE SERVICE (IRS) for clearance of the transferred amount in your account.

Once the Anti drug /terrorist clearance certificate is obtained funds will immediately reflect in your bank within 10 Minutes, the certificate is all that is needed to complete this transaction.

Note that the actual funds are valued at $15.5 MILLION USD and the president made a compensation fund release for all unpaid beneficiary valued at $10 million usd.

Listed below are the mafias and banks behind the non release of your funds that I managed to sneak out for your kind perusal.

1)DR ROGERS ADEWALE
2) Senator David Mark
3) Chief Joseph Sanusi
4) Dr. R. Rasheed
5) Barrister Awele Ugorji
6) Mr. Roland Ngwa
7) Barrister Ucheuzo Williams
8) Mr. Ernest Chukwudi Obi
9) Dr. Patrick Aziza
Deputy Governor - Policy / Board Member
10) Mr. Tunde Lemon
Deputy Governor - Financial Sector Surveillance / Board Member
11) Mrs. W. D. A. Mshelia
Deputy Governor - Corporate Services / Board Members
12) Mrs. Okonjo Iweala
13) Mrs. Rita Ekwesili
14) Barr Jacob Onyema
15) Dr. Godwin Oboh: Director Union Bank Of Nigeria.
16) Mr. John Collins: Global Diplomat Director.
17) Foreign fund diplomatic courier
18) Barr. Becky Owens
19) Rev. Steven Jones
20) Bank of Africa
21) Mrs. Debbie Hargrove
22) Mr. Michael Wagner
23) Barr. Isa Farid
24) Dr. Raymond Faye< /i>
25) Ibraheem Fashola
26) Dr. Leslie Fawaz
27) Mercy Fajaroo
28) Walter K. Falana
29) Azeez Fatou
30) Ibrahim Fabumi
31) Daniel Faras
32) Michael Faras
33) Minassa Fernandez
34) Viresh Fernando
35) Deacon Diende Fernandez
36) Ben Felix
37) Dr. Ige Femi
38) Chen Hsiu Fei
39) Gloria Festus
40) Lopez Fernando
41) Aloye Fidelis
42) Augusto Fish
43) Dr. Raymond Fingesi
44) Dr. Martin Fibu
45) Joseph Finn
46) Ogom Fidelis
47) Jennifer H. Fiedler
48) Dr. Jimmy Fowler
49) Robert Fortin
50) Dr. Sharon Forrest
51) Prince Michael Fofano
52) Sarah Fofano
53) Tony Foster
54) Dr. Koman Fofar
55) Samuel Fona
56) Grace Fona
57) Funmi Folorunso
58) Mike Franklin
59) Egbo Francois
60) George Freeman
61) Senator Jude Fred
62) Paul Frank
63) Dr. Francis Fregere
64) Walter Freer < /font>
65) Olu-Segun Fredrick
66) Justice Philip Francis
67) Raul Franco
68) Desmond Fred
69) Madu Frank
70) Rita Frank
71) Godwin Frank
72) Dr. J. Frances
73) Frank Francis
74) Derrick Frans
75) Kingsley Fred
76) Dr. Carlos Frederico
77) Dr Ola Funmilowo
78) Alan Fumbi
79) Vincent Fuso
80) Dr. John Fugar
81) William Funsho
82) Michael Funsho
83) Shahla Ghasemi
84) Ali-Reza Ghasemi
85) Martins Gambari
86) Jim Gallo
87) Paulo Gato
88) Ben Gafhar
89) Byron Gate
90) Arthur Gai
91) Shinder Gangar
92) Lopez Garvin
93) Abdul Gafah
94) Dr. Rufus Gaba
95) Alhaji Garba
96) Dr. Frank Gani
97) Brigadier Williams Gal
98) Egonna Duru Gal
99) Lucky Garbi
100)Sadique Gadaffi
101) Federick Ike Ganziri
102) Dr. Dennis Gavey
103) Jose Sanchez Garcia
104) Ahmed Gana
105) Jose A. Garcia
106) Major Archie Gates
107) Bavolleni Gallilo
108) Musa Galadima
109) Shehu Galadima
110) Barr. Imam Galadima
111) Barr. Jerry Galadima
112) Mustapha Gambo
113) Dr. Isah Gambo
114) Usman Gambo
115) Engr. Isaac Garuba
116) Alhani Azeez Garuba
117) Engr. Sule Garuba
118) Idris Garuba
119) Mustapha Garuba
120) ADB Bank Ouagadougou Burkina Faso
121) FSA UK
122) NATWEST BANK
123) ECO Bank
124) Credit Bank
125) Barr Greg Thompson
126) Mr Bello
127)Jones Williams
128)Scott Daniel
129)Thomas Brown
130)Bisi carlson
130)Jeff Peter
Do get in touch with me to with this email address( rev.pastor.jamessmith@live.com) and my direct phone +2348083010470 conclude this final transaction immediately, and also send to me your convenient tel/fax numbers for easy communications.

Regards,
Rev. Pastor James smith.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

The end of mr wrestler...

(Warning: written on iPhone so typos will be present!)

I'm sorry I haven't updated this blog for a little while. I have been struggling to make the time to just sit down and write about what I have been doing, because I have been too busy doing it.

I have now got 2 regular readers who have both requested a blog update about mr wrestler guy (One of these readers is my friend who was there at the time my date dilemma kicked off anyway!)

It didn't do well with mr tall wrestler guy. Please sit tight as I try and remember what happened
*wiggly lines of hazey memories*

It was a Saturday night and I arranged to go out for a beverage session with my friends. After discussing this outing with Mr Tall-yPants through the medium of text, I, somewhat foolishly, decided to invite him along. I told him that I would meet him at the bar at 9 and that I would text him once I had left my friends house, following a small amount of pre-drink drinks. He like always, text back instantly, suggesting that he come along to my friend’s house. Having rejected his rather rude offer to invade my friend's abode, I suggested he may wish to bring some mates with him to the pub as it was going to be all girls. This suggestion was met with the instantaneous prickly retort "I thought you wanted to see me not my mates!". Goodness gracious! All I was trying to do was make him feel a little more comfortable because none of my male friends could make it and he would be swimming in a sea of flange.
After managing to explain myself, he said his friends had gone to Brighton but wanted me to confirm I still wanted him to come.

Much vodka and girly hair faff happened before we booted up and head off. I had forgotten to text him to say we'd set off, but as we turned the corner, we noticed he was already waiting outside the bar. He hadn't even sat inside, just lingered awkwardly to one side of the entrance.

The girls and I ordered a pitcher of cocktail and he sat down next to me in a rather predatory manner. He proceeded to rudely steal me away from the group discussion, by directing all his conversation *at* me instead of to the whole group. This was made worse on two fronts. The first being the fact that this conversation consisted of him telling me he had bought new bed sheets, tidied his room as well boasting about the numerous colours of work shirts he possesses. I mean really. Listen up boys... The fact you tidied your room will not be an impressive enough fact for us lady folks to want to jump on your fleshy pogo stick. Also, the array of colours in your wardrobe does not interest me, why the hell would it? The second fact about this conversation which caused me untold torment was the fact that this was not the first time he had told me about his shirts. This wasn't even the second time he told me about his shirts. This was meeting number 3 and I was enduring the tedium of shirt colour for third time. This was strike one. I need someone who has something interesting to say. Anyone who can repeat the same diabolical clothes story more than once within only 3 times of meeting me, really isn't going to be worthy of any sort of commitment.

Strike 2 story.

This happened when he broached the subject of our mutual acquaintance that he works / slept with. As you know, I already knew about this situation but I hadn't mentioned it to either mr wrestler or my friend. After boring me senseless with his shirts, he unsubtlely moved on to the topic of facebook friends. He admitted to checking though who I knew and wanted to know how I knew ****** I explained that she is best friends with one of the ladies who had been sat with us the whole evening. Hot tip number 2. If you've made the effort to tidy your room in hope of scoring, do not proceed to belittle and insult the friend of your potential sex pot. I had to actually stop him mid vitriolic spew to explain that he was talking about a friend of ours.

Strike 3

I left to visit the room of little girls for a bit of an escape. One of my friends joined me a little while later to say that he had commenced an interrogation as soon as I has left. Does she like me? Why doesn't she text me? What has she said about me? Hot tip number 3. Never say things about the woman you hope to snuggle, to her friends. They are "her" friends and will tell her! Idiot!

....and you're out!

Thankfully the night had drawn to a close but unfortunately the twonk wanted to walk me home. He continued to hound me to confirm my feelings for him, which I skirted around because he is bigger than me and I didn't fancy being on the rough end of his aggression. I tried to make my excuses to get in my flat, when he pulled out this little doozy. " I don't really like walking back on my own at night" really? Really? He must have been clasping at the very last sex starved straw to think I would have invited him in after that. I don't think he was necessarily geared up for me offering to walk him along the "scariest" parts as I walk that way all the time and wouldn't find it in the least bit intimidating to walk back alone having dropped him off.

Coward

I decided enough was enough so I sorted this out once and for all. I very bravely text him to inform him that he weirded me out and he is too much hard work. I then prepared myself to valiantly face my decision, by turning my phone off.

So there you have it. The end of mr wrestler. It really is a wonder why I'm single isn't it....



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Friday, 19 March 2010

Second test drive....

Hiya!

I have been completely and utterly shattered this week so I’m sorry for the delay in updating.

I guess my main update today will need to cover the second “test drive” with mr wrestler dude. Now I am already aware that I make a rather splendid girlfriend, but unfortunately I tend to act like a wild horse during a “breaking” session on a date. In an attempt to swerve the awkward interview style dating procedure, I suggested that our second date should be at a pub quiz.

*checks phone to see if she has any relevant textual material to fill this section*

Ah yes, I remember now.

This gentleman seems rather insecure. This isn’t usually so much of an issue, except that this particular gentleman is also 6ft 5 and is an ex wrestler. I am starting to believe that these two parts of his personality might be at war. He tried to call me on Sunday. When I was unable to answer, he called again, straight after he hung up from the first call attempt. When it became clear that I was not available (for the second time in 2 minutes), he sent me a text to tell me that he had tried to call. All of these seems a little overly keen for my liking, like a dog that has forgotten what having a bone is all about. We arranged the date, and after a few messages from him asking if he could turn up to mine early and whether or not I was looking forward to seeing him (and replies from me basically trying to make it known that there is absolutely no rush needed in us getting to know each other), we settled on going to a pub quiz.

Now apart from the fact I love quizzes, the true, underhand, self serving reason for suggesting a pub quiz, was because it gives me a clear idea of how intelligent people are.

He met me from my flat (the location of which my mother still cant believe that I told him) and we started our walk to the pub. He presented me with a malteaser bunny which I once mentioned was one of my favourite chocolates, which I thought was sweet. (Unintentional bad pun there)

The quiz was interesting. It turns out that this chap is actually quite clever. The authenticity of this claim is unclear, but apparently he did an IQ test when he was 12 and was given a year’s free membership to mensa. Does this make me a bad person that I was quite turned on by that? (Not the 12 year’s old part, you filthy pervert!) I just love smart people. What I found tricky about the evening was the fact that every time the new chappy spoke to someone in the pub, he would come across as quite aggressive. I worried for the life of the quiz master at one point, when wrestler boy realised that our marks had been calculated incorrectly.

He walked me home again at the end of the night and we concluded things with a second date pash on the lips. I said I had to head off to bed as I was tired. In fact each time I said something rather subtle about wanting to go to sleep, he would mutter something that I guess is supposed to be seductive in some way. In the end, I had to physically break through a moment of passion by pushing him a side saying something along the lines of “you need to leave and go home now; I’m going in there, alone, to sleep”.

I have had a further few texts from this gentleman since. Some of them are very “do you like me *twist the back foot for effect*” though which is a bit teenage emo for my liking and is not a trait that I particularly fancy.

I am in a bit of a moral quandary as my head is telling me that he is going to be too much trouble, but the other half of me is going “did you not see that he is 6ft 5?!” “he has been a member of mensa don’t you know” I’m confused.

It’s late so I’m going to leave it there for now.

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

Here goes. A dose of hard hitting real

This will not be a particularly funny entry. In fact I am expecting it to be fairly self serving and pitying.

I don't expect you to trawl through my brain farts, but I would like to thank you in advance if you decide to stick with it. Any advice would be welcome.

I had promised myself that I would use this new blog as a way of improving my writing skills. I occasionally make myself giggle at some unusual ideas or thoughts that I have on every day subjects and I figured writing a blog would be a good way to try and express these. I hope with time, determination and a lot of constructive criticism from others, I can make it into something that makes other people smile too.

Today's blog is not going to be a light hearted look at the mundane. Today, I am struggling to remember how to be that usual smiley, outrageous person.

Some time ago, before I up sticks and moved my life to the south coast, I suffered with an incy wincey bit of depression. This word still creates a bitter taste in my mouth. There is a huge amount of stigma attached to being branded depressed, and even I hold my own prejudice about the condition. I am a very competitive person and I usually succeed at what ever I put my mind to. Reaching a stage in my life where I hated the fact that I was still alive in the morning and knowing that I had another day to live made me feel weak and pathetic.

Even now, 2 years on, I still struggle to deal with the fact that I wasn't strong enough to cope with the every day.

I did have a lot on my plate at the time which I'm sure added to the overwhelming inability to cope. My first real relationship was breaking down, my job and office politics had become completely unbearable, I had money worries and I was lacking something to work towards.

I would have tremours at night, I couldn't sleep, I felt increasingly paranoid and worthless, I had (and still do to some extent) a very unhealthy relationship with food. I would walk down the street and assume that anyone I heard giggling was making fun of me.

Remembering all these emotions and confusion is hard. I know that I don’t want to be that person again. I refused to take any sort of drug to battle this, but I did end up being referred for CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy) They help you identify what is triggering the shift in mood and work out how to rationalise and correct the way you feel about it. It was hard to face up to, but I worked very hard to ensure that I wasn’t beaten by my own self.

I applied for a new job which ended up being 7 hours away from Lancaster, I was successful and moved my whole life to the other end of the country where I didn’t know a single person. This set me a new challenge and a way to rebuild myself, and it still remains the best thing I have ever done.

The reason I am writing about this is because I have noticed a few of traits I fought against, creeping back.

I am at an increased level of stress at the moment. I am currently doing the workload of 3 people and not paid nearly enough for the privilege, I live in a studio flat which is smaller than your average size hamster cage, I'm approaching 30 and I feel like I am decades behind my peers who are married, have a house, children and careers.

I worry that I am using twitter as a form of escapism to draw focus away from the issues that I need to face. I have noticed that I crave to be accepted by people in online communities, rather than being excited by how accepted I am in my real life world. I have noticed that if someone is pissed off at something, I instantly assume that I am the root cause, even if that person doesn’t even really know me.

These things worry me. Don't get me wrong, the people I have met / speak to via twitter or forums are awesome and I love the fact that we share similar passions which my friends here don't completely understand. I just don’t want to fall into the trap of forgetting how reality works.

I'm just feeling a bit scared that I will forget how to cope again.

Hopefully strong independent women status will resume shortly.


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Sunday, 14 March 2010

Mothering Sunday

Today is mother’s day. The day where hallmark count their card driven share increase, Sunday school children cut up egg boxes painted yellow, stick them on a bit of card to pretend it’s a daffodil filled with eternal love and where the poor women that have squeezed a rather big thing, out of a much smaller thing, get to put their feet up.

I had remembered that this particular day was looming last week. I even managed to contribute to hallmark’s grossing revenue. Unfortunately, I promptly forgot about it soon afterwards and the card is still in my flat somewhere in one of those pink and white stripy bags that absolutely all greeting cards tend to be wrapped in after purchase.

My mother and I fell out last week because I had forgotten to send my Grandmother a birthday card. Apparently I will regret it when they are dead as I will wish I had been a lot less self centred and cared more about them. I hadn’t realised that folded pieces of card with someone else’s awful rhyming prose embossed on the front was the measure of how much someone cares, but apparently this is a well documented fact that I have somehow managed to overlook.

I was aware that after having this delightful telephone conversation with my mother, which I believe ended in her rather maturely putting the phone down on me, the fact that I had forgotten to post her card, was not going to go unnoticed.

My family are very religious and in wave of extreme cunning, I decided to wrap up the news that I went to church this morning in a little verbal bow, and gift it to my mother, over the telephone. I had hoped that news that I hadn’t been struck by ethereal lightning on entry to the church would disguise the fact that I hadn’t posted her card yet. This did actually work for about 5 minutes, until I accidentally let it slip that the reason I visited the house of God this morning was because my friend was having her marriage bans read. For those that are wondering if this is some sort of wedding protest poetry session, marriage bans are where the vicar of a church reads out the names of people due to be married and gives the congregation time to pipe up if they know why these marriages should not take place from a “legal” or “just cause” perspective.

Now I will point out, at this stage, that I am a Christian. This will probably surprise some of you as I’m not exactly text book. I certainly do not subscribe to the ludicrous Intelligent Design theory and there is a lot about organised religion that I do not agree with, but I do believe in God. The reason I wanted to clarify that I do believe in God and have Christian beliefs is because the next part of my blog may come across as a bit insulting.

I did not really get along with this flavour of church. Everyone is over 65, most of the women there look as if they would eat the face of a small child if they were given the opportunity, and it all seemed slightly pretentious.

The sermon started off talking about people’s shoes being an expression of who you are. He then followed this up with about 10 minutes of the inner workings of the trinny and suzanna show. This leapt, seams fully on show, into how parenthood is like clothing as it is an expression of what is within you. He did a call back to the shoes saying that we can’t see God’s shoes, but we can see his footprints in our lives. Even now I can’t work out for the life of me, how this disjointed rambling linked to either of the readings.

It was a communion service, and with any high Anglican church there was a little vicar dance at the front with the wafers and the cup, which I think would actually work very well on youtube, if it was speeded up and put to techno music. I am confirmed which means I’m entitled to partake in the cleansing of the body and soul through communion. Again, I have no objection to this, I think symbolism of what you believe in is important; however I got the most dirty look of the lady with the wine cup when I went to hold it for myself to take a swig. I spoke to my friend afterwards, as she as confirmed in this church, and apparently the etiquette is to just lightly touch the bottom of the chalice in order to tip it daintily into your face hole. I had obviously caused some hideous faux pas where I mistakenly thought I was a grown up enough to hold my own drinks. Looks like I’m back to the two handled plastic beakers and spill resistant lids then…

There was a moment at the very start of the service which nearly had me in tears. The vicar talked about some cake that would be available to after the service. After there was little response to this very exciting news, he requested that the microphone was turned up and he repeated his nugget of Sunday morning cake joy notice again. There was a ripple of muffled “woooooo’s” from the ladies in front which I thought was rather nice and good spirited. However, one old, gnarled looking hag had obviously decided that these ladies were having far too much fun in a religious environment, so turned round to the ladies and spat “they did that last year you know”. She would definitely have chewed on your child’s face if she had the chance. Miserable cow.

Anyway, that is my Sunday morning.

How has yours been?

Saturday, 13 March 2010

Post date waffle

He wasn't an axe wielding murderer, or at least he wasn't this afternoon, and I still live to tell the tale.

Safe to say my worries were completely unwarranted and rather unfair. He seems perfectly capable of holding a conversation which holds my attention and he seems reasonably interesting. I think he suffers from being stuck in a rut at work and he is currently lacking in a way to express himself since giving up wrestling, but I think he might have potential.

As a question to people who have tried this dating thing before, was I out of order to plan to meet other people this evening? He seemed a little pit out that I had to leave. I'm hoping this was just because he was enjoying my witty conversation rather than the fact he was hoping to score.

He walked me home and we had a rather long pash outside my flat. Someone who lives in my flat came out for a fag and saw us having a bit of a kiss. This didn't really bother me until the chappy said he thought that was his work colleague standing in the doorway. That was a bit uncomfortable and embarrasing!

He wants to meet up again and I think I will give him another test drive. I find it very hard to let down my defences so I guess we'll just have to see how persistant he is to break through my wall of crazy. I just hope he doesn't attempt to do that with an axe on a date further down the line.

I got a missed call from my mother while I was out "just calling as I haven't heard from you in a while and hoping you haven't been chopped up into little bits somewhere" I thought she was being rather optimistic expecting a reply if I had been. I called her up and explained that I had been on a date. We talked a little about it, as my mother is aware of the difficulty I have with these situations, and I explained that it went rather well. When I told her that we had a bit of a kiss outside my flat, she shrieked "you took him back to your flat?!". "outside it" I calmy tried to explain. "well, I hope he isn't a crazy stalker then" she replied.

Thanks mum. Unsurprisingly, I also hope that he isn't a sanity challenged personal obsessive too.

Parents eh, always have the best advice.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle

Pre date nerves and craziness

It appears that I have reached the big time. I have an actual living human being who reads by blog. *Waves* Hello! This post is dedicated to you and all you care for.

I was requested to update my dating progress via the medium of public writing, and with no thought for the fact that it wouldn’t be too hard for the individuals concerned to locate my waffle and with an over eagerness to please my fan (hello again), I have decided to write a pre and post date updates.

**Just realised the chappy has text me so taking two minutes to reply. I’ll be right back, but in the mean time why not have a cup of tea, go for a wee, sit on the settee, plant a tree or anything else that would rhyme with eeeee**

***Interval music****
Ice cream?

*******************

/Speaker/ Please can we welcome back to the blog…… Vicky

Hello, sorry about that. This is what makes me feel somewhat apprehensive. This chap seems very keen on me. I know I know, I have already been told by my friends that if he was distant and disinterested, I would probably be concerned he was meeting me to pass time rather than because he wants to wallow in my awesome.

I worry when people are very keen though. I’m concerned that I might be meeting with a man who has never even within a 10 meter radius of a woman, and just wants to know what one smells like. I’m really not interested in “completing” anyone. Why do people say that? I don’t want someone who is only half a person. I want a fully complete man to start with.

This particular gentleman has text me a LOT. He has also wanted to call me a couple of times and I’ve had to explain that I’m not always contactable, because I do /other/ things than waiting longfully by my telephone praying for it to ring.

Something that he said to me on MSN also worried me. “You are really clever” and “this is the most intellectual conversation I have had for ages”. Now I am going to let you into a little secret. I am an unapologetic intellectual snob. I need to be surrounded by people who can challenge the way I think and my views on things. I earn for the debate with people who can hold their own view and articulate them creatively. Now, the particular conversation we were having I didn’t deem to be particularly challenging. Don’t get me wrong, it was interesting and I was enjoying talking to him, but I am just a little apprehensive that he isn’t going to be able to stimulate me intellectually.

Now you have a little window into my world of crazy. I am something of a self saboteur.

I wonder if it is because the prospect of starting a new relationship threatens my independence. Realistically, I know that this doesn’t have to be the case. I’ve been in long term relationships before and I work well in that environment. I just know that I worked hard to rebuild my life after things changed 2 years ago.

Anyway, I really should go and get ready.

Friday, 12 March 2010

#TYSIC Update

(Ten Year Self Improvement Challenge)

Note: Sorry, this is a long one. I do not blame you if you decide reading all of this would damage your life in some way, but if you do read it all, thank you kindly. Feel free to comment with any advise or tip you have

I have set out my goals, and now it is time to provide the update on my progress. I’ve decided that they should probably be split into long and short term action points.

Short term – Top Priority

Learn to drive
Improve my career
De-clutter
Do regular exercise (code name #operationsexpot)
Learn not to over think things

Mid Term – Medium Priority
a appris une langue
Lose weight
Maintain regular blog
Be creative
Make people laugh
Meet a nice gentleman

Long term
Buy a car
Go travelling
Buy a house
Get married
Start a family
Set up my own company

Learn to drive
I had a driving lesson on Sunday. I seem to have a mental block when it comes to driving. I’m rather lucky in the sense that if I put my mind to something, I will achieve it. Sadly, it seems that my mind is actually what is getting in the way. I second guess my judgement, which inevitably leads to making a mistake. I am finding this utterly infuriating! I just want to be able to do it. I have no idea why I am finding it so hard. My next lesson is a week Friday.

Improve my career
I actually quite like my job. I love the people and I enjoy working in IT, but I am horrifically over worked, and I know that my skill set is worth more than I am currently being paid. I need to see what sorts of jobs are available. The trouble is, I still don’t really know what I want to be when I’m all growed up. I have a few Cloud 9 jobs I would love such as graphic designer, entertainment critic, comedian, managing director of my own firm, Chloe O’brian’s direct line manger at CTU, but no real “calling” to a particular field.

De-clutter
Fail. I need to work on this

#operationsexpot

I have done reasonably well this week. I went to a class called Body Pump on Monday, which is basically lifting heavy things, repeatedly, to music, for about an hour. I went to the gym for 30 mins on Wednesday, immediately followed by a class aimed to kill you through lactic acid poisioning through your legs, bums and tums. I hurt. But as some masochistic sad case once said, pain is beauty.

Thinking about how to stop over thinking things
I have only been made aware of this being a real issue for me, fairly recently. It affects my driving, my working relationships, my friendships, my relationships and just my overall judgement of a situation. I also have no idea how to work on this issue. Suggestions would be greatly received.

Learn a language

I have a learn Nepali CD that I used for my trek last year, but I don’t know how useful this language would be to me. I have a couple of ideas. I could continue with my French learning. I got a B at GCSE so that might help (Even though that was 10 years ago it’s self) Or I could maybe start to learn Japanese. This is mainly because it is a stunningly beautiful language and I love the fact that they have 3 alphabets. Anyone got any suggestions for other languages I should learn? Maybe I should learn a programming language. That would help with some of my other tasks.

Lose weight.

This is an on going battle for me. At my heaviest, I weight about 18 and a half stone. That was about 2.5 years ago and I am still ashamed that I let it get to that stage. I weighed myself this morning and I currently weigh 16.3. I would be ecstatic if I could get out of the teens. My main problem is binge eating. I do this when I am overly happy, excited or content, or if I am feeling miserable, frustrated or tired. That doesn’t leave me with a lot of time in between to eat healthily. I think that refusing to binge eat may need to be added on to my list of goals

Maintain a regular blog

Well, I am getting there. I have had a couple of quiet lulls where I was either too tired, or too grumpy to write something worth reading, but I seem to be back on the ball. I wrote a little guide to online dating this week, which was mainly written to allow me to air my frustrations, but I have received quite a few lovely responses from people about it which has made me happy. I still have a bucket load of comedy reviews to write up for it, but I have been a little bit lazy.

Be creative.
I have set myself a little challenge to attempt to do a doodle a week. This started with the #preciouslittle robin ince’s view on the war on terror, followed up by my keith lemon doodle. This week I am attempting to doodle Michael legge and james hingley although I’m not too impressed with my current attempt. Still, the more I do, the better I will become.
(michael legge doodle = here)

Make people laugh

There is something about making people laugh that I find completely addictive. I just love making people smile. This week I did it by accident. I wrote a blog entry about some online dating horror emails and sent it to a few of my friends that could relate to it, and they were in absolute stitches. I was really taken a back and completely honoured that they enjoyed it so much. I hadn’t really even attempted to make it funny, I had just been annoyed at the situation and wrote down my thoughts. I think I am going to focus on some writing and see if I can really hone my ability to make people smile.

Meet a nice gentleman
Well, on the topic of online dating, I have booked a date with an ex wrestler on Saturday. He is 6ft 5 and works in civil service and seems rather interesting. I am a little bit nervous though (and this is where my overthinking issue comes in) because he seems very keen.

The long term goals are not really applicable at the moment.

There. Update complete.