7 years ago
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.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle
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.
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....
- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle
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....
- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle
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.
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.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle
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.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iWaffle
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?
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
