Scarpa

I think my ex is a woman

2006-05-19T14:13:00.000Z

This is something I've recently come to realize. See, I never understood my friends' frustrations over "men!", how they complained about how hard they were to understand, how they never understood women and generally were weird creatures from another planet. We had the same habits around the house, agreed where to put things and what sofas were nice, shared views on most major and minor issues and could go to IKEA without a major bust-up. It left me puzzled, though, when the passion died on us, but now I think I'm getting it. After having been with Spikey for about 14 months, I think I'm ready to join the club. Spikey is a man. He likes to cook, and does it a lot (I'm slowly becoming obsolete in that department), and he himself believes that he's great at cleaning up afterwards... Now, I don't want to moan, but it takes more than tossing the pans into the dishwaser and throwing out the potato skins. For instance, for some strange reason, after he cooks, the cupboards and walls need wiping, the fridge door and the fridge interior(!) as well. The floor needs sweeping and mopping. And the whole kitchen needs rearranging. I'll find the knives sticking up from the jar by the stove. And the ladles and whisker in the cutlery drawer (a friend of mine has a similar problem - her boyfriend just puts everything in the drawer. The same drawer. And when he proudly announces thad he's done the tidying up, she'll secretly spend more time tidying up after his tidying up than he spent tidying up in the first place). I find the shopping still in the bags in the fridge. I'm not even going to mention the size of our sofa! How a man of his modest size requires all that space to be comfortable is a mystery to me. But I suppose this is all part of having a man in the house. And the plusses far outweigh the minuses. After all, he is a master cook, the darling!

?

2006-04-13T12:56:00.000Z

oh where did my "fab life in London" go???

EEEEK!!!

2006-03-31T11:06:00.000Z

This is so embarrassing, I just have to tell you about it…

I was taking a shower the other night and when I came out of it I discovered that I had forgotten my towel in the bedroom. Nothing to do but tip-toe across the floor and try not to drip all over the place. As I enter the room Spikey goes WHEHEY! What? I ask with my over-the-years-carefully-practiced-slightly-cheeky-bedroom-smile. You’re becoming like those women in the seventies. (oh this can’t be good) What do you mean? Bushwoman, he goes. EEEEEK!

…

Well I can’t see a bloody thing down there anymore, what do you expect!!! Mirror mirror on the wall…

wello wello!

2006-03-18T16:52:00.000Z

I've been let out to play! Got a latte, a carrot cake, Stelpa (that's my laptop) on the table, connected to the outside world - what could be better!!! I could think of a few things, but for now, it's just what I need. Escaped the mess at home, took a walk in the sun and found a spot with wi-fi to spread my thoughts.
Alert readers might notice that today is March 18th - not that that says much, but if you cast a glance to the right, find March 2005, you might also notice that today, it is exactly one year since I first laid eyes on Spikey, the yummie one. So what am I doing here, just sipping latte and enjoying no-one's company but Stelpa's? Good question! I would like to say something really funny about it, all I can think of is if the pleasure of Making Up stands in an equal reverse relationship to the misery of Falling Out, my world is gonna get ROCKED tonight - big time! So that's what I'll focus on, it makes the whole thing seem a bit less depressive.
But hey, it's been a year! And what a year it's been! It feels more like five, the way my life has been turned upside-down. If anyone had told me this a year ago, when I was breaking into my own flat (with alarming ease), well - I would have said that person was mad. But here I am, eight weeks to go till I can hold my son in my arms. My son.
Other things that have put their mark on the past year are turning the big 30, trying my first A-class drug, having some creep try to assault me in my sleep, London being attacked by terrorists (while I was giving evidence at the police station), starting up a family business (and extending my wardrobe by about 1000% in the process), my boss dying way too young - and yes, getting accustomed to referring to myself as part of a tiny little family, my own new family.
Ah yes, I guess it was my turn. Right now, Stelpa seems to be running out of steam, so maybe I better head on home and see whether I can patch things up - the sooner I get that over with, the more time I'll have for rocking bliss!

Auf Viedersehen!

2006-02-02T17:33:00.000Z

I am in excile... stuck in a place with no connection to the wwworld... Takes me 1 1/2 hours to get to work... My phone-bill is bound to come down to earth though... Will write again when I've moved into my new place with underfloor heating, dish-washer and Spikey. And internet. Until then, auf Viedersehen, hugs and kisses!

2006-01-26T19:57:00.000Z

AT SOME STAGE IN MY LIFE, I WANT TO HAVE MY SHOES ARRANGED LIKE THIS IN MY HOUSE... IN THE ROOM WHERE I KEEP MY CLOTHES

further development...

2006-01-25T21:49:00.000Z

Feel like I might explode, got uterus up to my ribs and little Elvis embraces every opportunity to kick them. My bedtime is his playtime. Made a very silly decision to eat less chockolate and more dried fruit, as a result my room smells distinctively of fart... I've had to escape, so now it's back to celebrity big brother, then desperate housewives and a bit more chockolate... I seem to remember hearing that if you eat lots of chockolate during pregnancy you'll have happy babys... yes.

On a light note...

2006-01-19T20:55:00.000Z

I really really wanted to start this post on a scrrrreaming "WHY DO MEN HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING STUPID SOMETIMES!!!", but decided against it. Cause: "I'm above it". And they really aren't, poor bastards, they're just boys. And boys will be boys, and thats how we love them, right? Yes, we do, lovely little buggers...

Instead, let's talk about something else. Like, there's a pregnant lady on the cover of "Britain's no.1 glossy" this week. Yep, we are hip laydeez, me and my homegirls, you know, Angelina, Gwynnie, we're the coolest chicks in town. This glossy even goes on about this hot new trend, clothes that look like maternity wear... weird stuff... I wouldn't be cought dead in that dress, pregnant or not...

Anyway, I'm struggling to find fun stuff to write about these days, got no good party stories for you guys... selavi, I'm sure I'll make up for it in a few months... or a year or so... Can just see it: Aaaand it's party time, now with baby puke in hair....

I haven't been to the sales at all this time (good girl), but I have bought vintage clothes for about £330 in the last couple of weeks... yep, more on that later... exciting stuff...

I'm hiding in my room right now, cause Puma and our other flatmate are interviewing my potential replacement... so I'm just writing silly stuff, like... I'm hooked on celebrity big brother these days - never thought that would happen to me, but apparently there's a first time for everything... and... God my room is a mess... I was going to start packing yesterday (cause you know, Spikey and me are moving in together), but you know how it is, you start emptying your closet and you find all these things that you'd forgotten you had and it's all very exciting and you try things on (only nothing fits me anymore) and all of a sudden it's getting late and everything is lying on your bed and it's time to go to bed so you just throw everything on the floor... know what I mean? Anyway, I think she's gone now, so I'm gonna catch the rest of cbb...

A girl's girl

2006-01-09T19:16:00.000Z

Aaahh, that's much better! After all, you may put a boy inside the girl, but you will never take the girl out of the girl!!!

OH BOY!

2006-01-05T20:07:00.000Z

It's a boy! Thought I'd celebrate by changing the look of my page to a bit more masculine one...

Dear Diary...

2005-12-20T19:54:00.000Z

confessions of a fat frustrated lady...

Right, the weekend... a welcome break from the hectic work week. Couldn't wait to relax for a couple of days, de-stress. Yeah. Went to see the Danish lot after work for good-bye and merry christmas drinks. Spikey didn't come 'cause he wasn't in the mood for going out (tough day). Fine. So I travelled the 1 1/2 hours it takes to get me to his. Found him a bit more than tipsy at a mate's place. He had to work Saturday so I went into town to finish off my christmas shopping. Sort of ended up just buying clothes for myself (pretty much needed by now, not much that fits me anymore). Decided to take all that stuff home, as the bags were getting quite heavy and I'm not really allowed to carry heavy stuff. The plan was to then go back into town and shop for some presents. Got on the tube - this is where a significant milestone in the pregnancy took place: a woman offered me her seat! Oh dear!!! Got to Crack Town, went to the supermarket. Shop assistant goes "Hi how are you, baby kicking?" DEAR ME!!! Dump the stuff at home, have a quick snack and head out the door. Destination Knightsbridge. Make it to H&M, look around but suddenly feel tired. Very tired... head back home, this time no one offers me a seat. Great! (You see where this is going? Someone is about to get pissed off.) Didn't see Spikey that evening either, he went partying. Asked if I wanted to come. No thanks. Tired remember? Pregnant remember? Decided to meet up and finish the christmas shopping the day after. Called him on Sunday morning, somehow I ended up going up to his end of town, he picked me up at the station and we headed to a "nearby" shopping center. A SHOPPING CENTER my god... obviously not my choice, but there seems to be a problem with us doing stuff that's convenient for me. Convenient for who then? Well guess. Spent about an hour in the car (heating is working again, thank god), Spikey seemed surprised that there was so much traffic on a Sunday. Yes, it is very surprising that there is heavy traffic towards a big shopping center the last Sunday before christmas. Got there in the end, finished my christmas shopping after a hang over pizza at the hut. Yeah hang over for some. Finally ended up going to mine - well it was convenient for a certain special someone that needed to be somewhere south of London early Monday morning... well well... What day is it to day, Tuesday? Yeah I think so, been working so hard that it feels like it should be Friday next year already. Well, another frustrating day for Spikey on Monday, matters south of London went a bit @%$*&"£&% if you see what i mean, and I had to get to work this morning at about 7 o'clock, so again, no luvin and huggin and squeesin all night... Spent about 11 hours at work today, hoped hoped hoped that Spikey would come down to mine tonight. But no, but I could come to his...! Very funny. You see me laughing? Didn't think so... Tired remember? Pregnant remember? Did I really write last week that we would be spending considerably more time south of the river...? My god, was I delirious??? Or just gullible?
On the other hand, the source of all his frustrating days lately is that he has been going through a lot of trouble, getting his passport sorted so that he can come to the Klake with me for christmas. Even had to fork out 500 pounds to get a bloody travel document... or something, I really haven't got my head round all the procedures people born outside of the E-club have to go through, amazing... mad! I would go mad. But hey, wait a minute... he's not getting his passport sorted for me! And I am under the impression that he wants to spend christmas with me, so surely he's doing all that for himself? One could hope.
But when we're together, he's the loveliest lovely luv and I can't resist him. Have I acquired some sort of syndrome, I don't know, APSDS (acquired personality strenght deficiency syndrome), only found in women in love??? Is it such a bad thing? How do I deal with it? Dear Diary, what should I do?
Anyway, gotta sort out a mountain of laundry and do a bit of tidying before going away, that's an exiting evening ahead of me. Hmmm... it's just that I'm sitting here, getting more and more irritated... think it's time to make a phone call, get some truths of my chest... oh dear, to be continued...

yummy

2005-12-14T15:10:00.000Z

You will be pleased to hear that today I'm wearing brown leather stack heeled (4 inch) boots, very cool skinny jeans, Stella McCartney T-shirt and cool vintage plastic pearls, AND my hair looks nice... I'm a yummy mummy!!!! Not wearing any make-up though, my mascara is at Spikey's...

A tip to all y'pregnant ladies out there, if you want to keep wearing your normal jeans, there is a trick: Put an elastic (like a hair band) through the zipper tip, pull it through the button-hole and then wrap it around the button. Then all it takes is a long jumper or a T-shirt (Stella McCartney is brill for this - I AM talking about her H&M range).

Surprise!

2005-12-14T14:47:00.000Z

We're half way through this month, and my account is still in plus!!! I've still got 3 whole pounds before I hit zero...
To celebrate I went and cancelled my contact lens subscription. My my, we're getting streamlined. Very proud of myself.

Kicking about

2005-12-13T21:21:00.000Z

Aaahh, just got back from swimming... yes that's me, the healthy soul in a fit body... yeah... See I'm so fit, that when I went out dancing last friday, I sort of had to take a few breaks every now and then, you know, to rub my sticky-out belly and drink a bit of water (just had a thought - it will be a while before I ever get a flat tummy... and my lifestyle is the healthiest ever!). Anyway, I've just realized how badly alchohol effects people's eyesight - or maybe all those guys that asked me to dance just felt sorry for the fat girl standing alone drinking water all night. I had to put up a strong case to some of them: "no sorry, I'm just taking a break, maybe a bit later, sorry, just a bit tired...". Stopped short of saying: "Us ladies that are 4 months pregnant need our rest...", or patting my tummy and saying "Baby says nooo...", and then coughing in their faces... would have loved to see the look on their faces though... or rather the backs of their heads more likely!
Slept in on Saturday, then went to Portobello market. I'd love to be like all those cool chicks in their trendy outfits: skinny jeans, stack-heeled leather boots, furry jackets, a cool cap... But since I'm always staying at Spikey's and am probably the most un-organized person in the world, all I can manage to throw in my bag on a Friday morning before going to work is some clean underwear and socks, my toiletry bag and maybe a jumper and a t-shirt... on a good day. Teamed with my work outfit, that these days consists of comfortable fairly loose clothes and flat shoes, it doesn't make for the hippest-chick laid-back weekend attire.
So on Sunday I decided it was time to get pissed off about the whole arrangement - funny how men sometimes don't see reason before someone actually spells it out for them. Anyway, good thing is that we will now be spending considerably more time south of the river, and we now seem to be able to have these conversations without screaming our heads off - maybe we're both from Earth after all! Poor kid (the one inside me) - destined to inherit our tempers. Speaking of the kid - he or she is definitely kicking about, poking around on the inside, and even Spikey got the chance to feel it on Sunday morning, half asleep though as I woke him screaming and shouting: "WHOA HEY WOW FEEL THIS, SPIKEY SPIKEY WAKE UP MAN WAKE UP!!!"
So all in all, a really good weekend :)

And a week later

2005-12-05T22:17:00.000Z

it already feels too tight...

Scarpa buys her first maternity bra

2005-11-30T08:33:00.000Z

She is now wearing a flipping double D cup...

Week 16

2005-11-22T21:24:00.000Z

I blame the following entirely on lack of blood.

I have become a trophy girlfriend. I’ve been pep talked, dressed up and then shown off. It all began last Friday afternoon, Spikey and I were on our way back from our first appointment with the midwife (which involved various blood tests and some very personal questions) when we came across this little boutique with sparkly dresses. As we had a wedding to attend on the Saturday (one of his friends tying the knot), Spikey decided we should have a look. I had already bought a shocking pink sixties dress in my favorite vintage shop near Brick Lane and was half way through altering the sleeves, so I didn’t really see the point, but went along anyway. After trying on about 20 dresses in purple, green, blue, burgundy (!), velvet, silk, satin; sequined, beaded and embroidered, I finally went along with a black, Audrey Hepburn style, kneelength dress that will fit me for the next two weeks and then again hopefully in a years time or so. I even let him pay. Lack of blood I say! The independent modern woman’s worst enemy. Makes her enjoy pampering and attention. Burn her at the stake! Lack of blood I say.

Week 15 - up the duff

2005-11-17T21:28:00.000Z

I've always thought it was funny that when people have children, they put pictures of them on their msn messenger display, rather than pictures of themselves... Do you really have to loose your idendity when you become a parent??? I can sort of feel it starting already, people offering to lend me big clothes (no individual style anymore?), people asking me things about my body I would NEVER discuss with anyone but my doctor (no privacy anymore?). Even sweet Spikey has a tendency to speak to my tummy, rather than my face - well I suppose it's better than him speaking to my breasts... come to think of it, he might even start that soon, seeing as they're gonna go up two cup sizes! The shops also seem to think that there is only one type of person who decides to have children, and that's the type of person who wears frilly things with pink flowers on them and has a passion for corduroy and beige - well I've fallen out of category before, I suppose I could just continue. Anyway, if anyone sees a nice black wool/cotton dress, scoop neck, long sleeves, straight, sort of kneelength and with some stretch in it AND within a normal person's budget, please let me know.

Basky and I!

2005-11-11T04:00:00.000Z

Has my social life suffered lately?
Have I been tired, a bit sick and even scared?
Have I shown extreme negligence to this little blog site?
I think I can safely say 'yes!'... 'oh yes!'
Explanation: I have a Basky. I call it Elvis sometimes (no particular reason). It's really tiny (but growing). A little thingy inside me. I saw it the other day, waving, kicking, stretching... It's really there! I didn't really believe it until I saw it. A baby!

been a long time since I rock'n rolled...

2005-10-30T23:55:00.000Z

Yes, it's been a long time baby! I wish I could come back with loads of stories, that I just didn't have time to write about 'cause I was busy living the wild life... but sadly - no.
But I've been clocked, and that means I have to come up with five facts about myself... my god, gotta do a bit of soul searching - who am I, what am I, am I a mouse or a man!!!! Well, hopefully neither... hmmm... gotta think about this some more...

In the meantime, what's been going on i my life lately? Well, my bank account has decided to just stay empty all the time, bastard, and it's having a very negative effect on my social life. I've seen one strip show though, which was cool. On a boring friday at work I received a message from Spikey to put on my best dress and come to town, we're going out and it's gonna be great - yipheee, that was fun. The scandals escape me though, we danced and we drank and then we went home and that was that. But not till after the strip show of course.

I haven't been shopping either for years, it seems, and maybe this is the reason I can't think of any facts about myself, I haven't been my self, I am lost - need money fast now. To find old self.
And new shoes. Baby needs new shoes. In the meantime, I'll try and think of five facts, and promise I'll be a better girl.

:)

2005-09-30T04:51:00.000Z

...

GUESS WHICH ONE IS MY BOYFRIEND

...

have fun

2005-09-30T01:15:00.000Z

this guy is completely mad! Enjoy.

this saves the day! Hnee hnee hneee!

and this is just brilliant!

and this guy is just really interesting. Does that make me a nerd?

Me and the rest of us commoners

2005-09-27T04:41:00.000Z

Aah, not to forget all the lovely people, who are just like me, somewhere in their lives, not quite sure wheather it's the right place, wheather there is something better out there or wheather, maybe, we're just extremely lucky to be where we are.
I have always had a slight problem with decision-making. I tend to go with the flow, take things as they come, and it's usually taken me places, physically and mentally, where I've been quite content.
Like, I moved from the Clake to Denmark (of all places), because I got into a school that I applied for because I thought I better apply for something. Then after that, I decided to move to London because that's where the jobs are. Now that I've met dear Spikey, and we are getting along quite well, I'm thinking wheather I'm here to stay, or wheather I should exercise my right to have a free will and embark on a mission to make him fall in love with the Clake, the land of madness and glory. Maybe it's just the prospect of the grey and gritty London winter that's deflating my bubble, or maybe it's soon time to move on. In my own style, I think I'll give it a few months and see what my guts are telling me around new-year's.
Oh but this was supposed to be about me and those like me, not some heart-searching quest for the meaning of life... I guess what sparked all that is the fact that I'm starting to miss those guys, my lovely friends and family, more than I have before, and the short holidays home do nothing but increase that feeling. It's just not enough.

The famous people and I...

2005-09-22T14:09:00.000Z

(said in the voice of Queen Margaret of Denmark)

I took a trip to the Clake and it all started swell. After a bit of searching, I finally found the passport control and went through the motions. Prayed they wouldn't confiscate my crocheting hook, but then thought of the headlines: Plane hi-jacked with crocheting hook... Maybe not likely to happen. So I got through and when I picked up my bag from the scanner, who do you think I spotted from the corner of my eye? Only one of the most famous architects in the world. Immediately thought of asking her for a job, but quickly remembered that she's infamous for screaming at people, throwing coffee over drawings and sending models flying across the room. Got away still alive, thanks to my quick thinking.
The few days I had away went by, did a lot of the usual stuff, hung out in cafes, visited friends, went out on the town... the routine. Bumped into Paul Auster and his wife, Siri Hustvedt, at the Timber Hut. Forgot to say hi. Then shared the dance floor with Bjork's daughter-in-law.
Time to head back, get down to the nitty gritty, no more holiday this time. Shared a plane with the Clake's most famous scientist, the one with all the DNA. Had enough of all these famous people, such a drag, feel much better stuck in my seat, glued to the computer, slaving away at schedules, lists, area calcs and all the other goodies. yeah. save me.

back by popular demand

2005-09-13T06:21:00.000Z

well well well... what's been going on since last...? Well, not much really, just been carrying on with work, luuuv and life... ups and downs and just the same old, so I thought I'd spare you. But, today I thought "what the hell, why not write down a few lines?"
So I strolled down the highstreet looking for a suitably stylish cafe, thought I found one and sat down to order a latte. Felt I looked rather intellectual there, writing depressed comments about my life in a little red book, which from a distance could resemble leather (Smythson of course). Just as, from a distance, I could resemble a career woman, someone in control, having all the answers... from a far distance. As the tone suggests, it all became really rather depressing, so I thought I'd spare you, kept the depressed thoughts in the red book and went shopping instead. Just like any woman in control would. Then I went home and dyed my hair. Cause I'm going on holiday, yee-hay yee-hay yeeee... for 4 days back home. yee-hay

DIY beauty (including epilating and breast pumping) and other bits and pieces

2005-08-25T04:49:00.000Z

I was supposed to go on holiday last week. Nothing much, just going back home for a long weekend. None the less a holiday, just a few days away from it all, a bit of fresh air, and water that stinks of rotten eggs. To use the nicer description. Anyway. Didn't happen. The embassy of the country that on CIA's website is described as "slightly smaller than Oregon" messed the whole thing up, didn't deliver Spikey's passport when promised and for some reason really really really wanted to print his name wrong, so 15 minutes to closing time, we changed the tickets, and are now going in mid-september. That cost us one hundred pounds. Lovely.
You'll have to excuse me if I'm a bit focused on money these days. Account is empty (and then some), and I just can't seem to be able to go back to a lifestyle where I allowed myself the luxury of having lunch in a café - once a month. Get extremely depressed by the thought of not being able to spend seven pounds on a book, a gift, to a sick friend. Refuse to let go of my morning latte. And my Wednesday ready made Sainsbury's pizza (By the way. Would like to make another complaint to Sainsbury's. Why why why have they moved the ready meal section so far away from the entrance. You used to be able to walk right in, grab your pizza and whoossshh through the "baskets only" tills, and out you were. Perfect. Not any more. I want it back). Anyway. Enough moaning.
I had a haircut the other day. I'm getting a bit creative, so I went to see the Two In The Tower and persuaded the female part to work her magic with the scissors, resulting in a fresh new look and only a slightly uneven fringe. Job done. Tonight I'm doing a DIY haircolouring. Reckon I've saved at least a hundred pounds there.
I just realized something. Next month, Spikey and I will have been togther for HALF A YEAR. Fancy that! Most of the time I think he's absolutely wonderful, apart frome the times when I think he's a right cunt. Guess you can't avoid that completely. Sometimes get the feeling I'm a hormone raging teenage girl. Aaaahh, savour that feeling of youthfulness.
I was chatting to a dear friend of mine on messenger yesterday. She lives in Denmark and just had a baby boy. She was a bit slow on the keyboard, but I forgave her because she was busy pumping her breasts at the same time. She's had some infections in them. Yeah, I don't really want to go into that any further. I was epilating. Aaahh, the bonding effect of self inflicted female torture, all the way across the channel. Yeah, let's not go any further into that, I might reveal my extraordinarily bad geography knowledge. It was lovely to catch up with each other, but I ended our session when I moved onto the bikini line. Yeah, I won't go any further into that.
Hmmm... what else is new... Yeah, Puma and I have a new flatmate. I'll have to find a name for her, but it's a bit difficult since she's invisible. Her shampoos have appeared in the bathroom, so I assume she's living here now. So we've made space in the fridge.
I think that's it for now, hugs and kisses and lotsa luv.

I think my father might be gay...

2005-08-24T04:51:00.000Z

Is it normal for your dad to tell you that you really need a haircut (not because you're a bloke with long hair, but because you're a girl who's been too skint for the last 6 months to go see a hairdresser)?
And to call you up just to chat (in the middle of a week-day, while you're at work)?
And to gossip about you to your friends?
Who's your daddy?

Trash

2005-08-23T04:43:00.000Z

This seems to have become a junkyard for emotional outbursts.
My apologies. Will try harder to be interesting. Can't think of anything right now.

2005-08-16T06:53:00.000Z

...

this is my bad day song, today is a bad day. "a job that slowly kills you, bruises that won't heal" [I feel I've wasted 5 years in uni]
Doing idiotic things, I can hardly hold back the tears when I'm given yet anoter pointless task served with a gluttonous dose of braindead justifications.
Arguments with the boyfriend becoming more frequent, is it all me, am I just pathetic? Are we all right? Why won't he come see me, is he all right? with us? He says he has a headache but I worry, I try not to, does he not want to see me - and my stomach turns into a tight knot and I can't help worrying - should I not?

langavitleysa...

2005-08-09T04:46:00.000Z

l o n g n o n s e n s e

I've got a friend who likes showering. She showers up to 3 times a day. Sometimes quite undeliberately. Sometimes she even showers in milk and coffee. If we count the times she does that, we're up to 4-5 times a day. I like showering too. Only once a day though. There may be about a billion dysfunctional characters in my (neighbour)hood, but now I've got a very functional bath with a very able shower, I am happy. Which is something that is not true of my baby these days. My baby had a shower. In red wine. My mum, of all people, decided to give it a shower. Well, not so much decided to as just happened to. Serves me right to get her drunk. So my baby drowned. For those of you who don't know, my baby is what connects me to the outside world. My umbilical cord, if you like. My laptop. And sadly, I feel old. Too old to throw a tantrum and demand a new one. So here I am, sitting with a borrowed baby, in my new living room, writing these lines. I had envisaged myself, sitting in my room, the soft light from the screen flattering my complexion, enhancing my cheekbones, casting dramatic shadows on the white washed walls, while I tap away, Carrie Bradshaw style (ahem... CB gone bankrupt and only left with a meager collection of 20 pairs of shoes). Mental note: must go shopping. Ooh, almost forgot. I did go shopping. Sweet Spikey has Little Portia permanently in London now, so we set off from N10 into town, me co-piloting and almost not getting us lost (no wandering into bus lanes this time). After having found a parking spot (iz a long ting), we went into the shop, skinny jeans on the wish list. Found the perfect pair, tried on a size 29. Hmmm... not bad. The shop assistant looks at me, not happy. Hmmm... what size is this? I get nervous, eeehhh 29 I think... Hmmm... wait a second... Comes back with another pair - Here, try this... How embarrassing, I thought they fitted and here he is, with a bigger size... oh... waitaminute... size 28! How am I going to squeeze into that!!! Take a deep breath, go into the fitting room again. I am so gonna do this. Puuuull them up, force them shut, there! I can now officially not breathe. Stagger out, shop assistant goes yes! much better!!! So I buy them. I may be old, but I'm nowhere near grown up, if someone says I can fit a 28, I bloody buy the 28. thankyouverymuch!
I haven't written in a while, but I've been thinking about it a bit. Like, I want to do an experiment. I've read that Britney Spears is the most googled girl in the world, so I thought I'd put her name in here - just to see how many people get lost and end up in here. I wonder who's the most googled man in the world... Any suggestions?
Anyway, this is becoming a long ting, so I'll end it for now. Got to find a flatmate. It's a tricky ting to get people to move to Crack Street...
Oh, by the way... some new links over there to the left... anyone know how to put in new links without everything starting to look so messy?

secret ingredient

2005-07-22T04:07:00.000Z

It's cool when people that are new in their jobs give away trade secrets. Like, now I know what the secret ingredient in Café Nero's frappe latte is. It's condensed milk. Revealed to my by barista in training. Just thought you might like to know. Just a little bite for you until stories of my life on Crack Street begin. Saturday is the day. We're moving into a flat with blue carpets in downtown SW2, and much to Spikey's horror, when I took him there to show him my new street, people were standing by the back entrance to the library smoking crack. Cute.

COMING SOON...

2005-07-19T03:37:00.000Z

...real life stories from Crack Town!!! Stay tuned...

crazy days

2005-07-13T04:53:00.000Z

I might not be a proper Londoner yet (I'm not desperate to get out of the city), but I think I am qualified to say this: Nothing has been achieved, Londoners aren't scared, they go on with their lives and those terrorists who think they can scare us are pathetic, absolutely pathetic. And that's what I've got to say about that, and I'll turn my attention to other (and absolutely trivial) matters.

Right. So my birthday came and went. I think I'm not over-stating it if I say that the world went bonkers around that day. It all started in the beginning of the weekend, when my recently dumped best friend came to visit, along with her recently dumping boyfriend. Or ex. Or whatever. (Sorry baby-b, so sorry.) At first it seemed like it was going to be a perfectly splendid weekend. But soon little hints started appearing. Like when we went to a café and had to wait for a whole hour for a cup of coffee (never got the coffee - we got up and left the crappy, but very posh, place). And another hint when we went to a restaurant and none of us got our food at the same time. Isn't it a commonly understood thing, that when four people go out to dinner together, that they want to actually eat together? We paid no notice and I went on with my usual routine - systematicly denying the inevitable by partying till eight in the morning, trying out yet another new substance (which was responsible for the extraordinary stamina - when did I ever party till eight in the morning?!), and just generally went about my way in a happy-go-lucky kind of manner, possibly with a slightly manic look in my eyes. Then something happened. Sunday evening came along, the eve of my birthday. In addition to the presents I had already received (some alcohol, a book, a CD, a lovely dinner, a superb shag...), I could now add Minor Assault to the list. Yes, the night between Sunday and Monday, some creep, some pervert, crawled through the window to Spikey's flat, I woke up with him standing right next to me, I woke up because I thought Spikey had woken up and wanted some more of that thing... need I say more? It took me a few seconds to wake properly and realise that it wasn't him, I screamed and woke him, he jumped up and shouted and that creep turned round and jumped out the window. So to my list of birthday presents, I could then add being questioned by the police, having my boyfriend's flat sealed off as a crime scene, complete with fingerprint dusting and DNA gathering, and getting a ride in a police car. Never tried any of those things before, wouldn't recommend them. Nope, definately wouldn't. I just hope they catch that sick bastard, he dropped his cap outside the window so there will definately be some DNA there. Fucking loser. Excuse my language. A few days went by and the world seemed to be returning to its usual sorry state, when on Thursday the bombings happened. At the time, I was doing a video-interview at the police station under the ABE (Achieve Best Evidence) scheme, and mummy and daddy were up in the air over Heathrow. My plans to just simply catch the Piccadilly line and go get them sort of went out the window. They got a cab to my place, fortunately Puma was there to let them in, and after waiting for a cab for three hours in north London I was on my way to join them. We had a great weekend, finally the world got over it - I'm thirty and there's nothing anyone can do about it!

A list of things to do...

2005-06-29T04:24:00.000Z

(to forget, b l i s s f u l l y forget)

When I was bored at work yesterday, I made a list of all the things that I needed to do when I came home from work. It said:
- finish reading the health and safety on site book
- tidy up and clean the kitchen
- go out for a run
- install microstation on my computer
- find a new flat
- and write a new post for my blog
The health and safety book never made it out of my bag, I did tidy and do a bit of cleaning in the kitchen, but as we didn't have any hoover bags for the hoover, it was a bit limited what I could manage. We haven't had hoover bags for months actually, but I have tried emptying the one that was there, which was a big thing for me, as I was imagining the many woodlice we've hoovered up coming alive and jumping on me, eeeuuuggghhh... Not likely to happen, but what can I say, it's just one of my phobies. I went out for a run, but half way through my stomache got unbelievably acidy, so I walked the rest of the way. I didn't install microstation on my computer (tonight's task), I looked for a flat on www.findaproperty.com and www.gumtree.com - not much success, but we've still got a month to go, and I didn't write a new post for my blog (tonight's task).
I'm a big fan of making lists. Means there's fewer things I have to remember. So it's really good for things I don't want to think about. For example, things I should do when I turn 30, you know, things to take me into adulthood. For example:
- pay off my overdraft
- start a pension scheme
- open a savings account
- get on the property ladder
- figure out where to take my career
- clean the flat once a week, like my mum does...
YIKES! But see, now that I've made a list, I can stop thinking about it... er... sort of. I've also done another list, of things that I maybe ought to do. Like:
- stop referring to my boyfriend as my toyboy
- change the word "single" in my blog profile to "double"
- stop spying on Disco-boy's purchases on e-bay (boy, can that boy shop!)
- stop writing my blog while at work
... and so on.
But tonight, I think I should just curl up with a mug of tea, a blanket, turn off the lights and admire the thunderstorm outside... apart from sunshine and 25-30 degrees, this is my favorite weather :)

Good Stuff

2005-06-24T05:18:00.000Z

I visited the countryside last weekend. I know it was the countryside because I saw cows and sheep on the way up there. And when I got off the train the girls seemed to be wearing even shorter skirts and skimpyer tops than in London - I didn't think that was possible! I also felt this great pressure on the sides of my head, like something very thick and heavy blocking my ears. Then I realized it was the silence, and once I got used to it, it actually felt quite comfortable, it was like it helped keep my thoughts inside my head untill I had had time to think them through properly. Weird. In the pub, everyone looked related, and they probably were, and they all seemed to take great joy in vulgar jokes. It was a lovely weekend, the sun was baking and the final confirmation I got, the proof I had been there, was what I brought back with me. Farmer's tan! Working very hard to even it out now that I'm back in the city, doing my best to expose sholders and upper arms on my lunchbreaks. But I really enjoyed the weekend, which might mean that I'm slowly but surely turning into a proper Londoner, although I'm not quite craving to move out just yet. That will hopefully take many many years. So Good Stuff no.1 was last weekend.
Good Stuff no.2 is the weather these days. Love it love it love it, absolutely love it. Although it's to hot to think, and the 8th deadly sin should be staring into a computer screen in a stuffy non air-con office all day when it's 30 degrees outside.
Good Stuff no.3 is my horoscope for the next six months (according to a certain glossy mag): more money, love work, total control, easy, triumphant months. Open, truthful, intimate relationship, travel and wider world. Sounds like pretty good stuff to me!
Good Stuff no.4: Apparently, my birthday (4 July) is National Kissing Day. Mwah mwah!
Good Stuff no.5: Today is Thursday, so tomorrow is the weekend. This means two days off, Spikey in town, and this time he's gonna bring Little Portia with him. Wroom wroom, London here we come! (We're gonna go shopping, which is Good Stuff no.6)

...tummy ...this is serious business!

2005-06-14T06:07:00.000Z

It's three weeks today. That's all I've got left to reach my goal. After a month of excessively violent coughing, resulting in a damaged ribcage muscle and a voice so husky I'm thinking of doing a Bonnie Tyler tribute show, I'm finally ready to go back to the gym. Nothing less than a miracle will do now to flatten that tummy. So, I've just got to stay on the straight and narrow, from today onwards it's fruits, vegetables, lots of fish and all the other healthy stuff, no coffee (except in emergencies of course), no chocolate (except green and black's organic of course), gym every day, I'll be the picture of health!
Aaaanyway, so I get up this morning, I'm at Spikey's house, so I've got about an hour and a half's journey ahead of me to work. Leave the house just slightly late (what else?), head for the bus stop. The bus comes along, I touch my oyster card on the reader, but instead of the cheerful 'bleeep', there's that dreaded 'bib-bib'. What! I look at the bus driver expecting him to act like a proper bus driver and do that sideways nodding thing that means I can just go in. No such thing. "There's no money on your oyster card ma'm." Don't you ma'm me you little... Off the bus I go, 'cause for some reason, in poshywoshy N10, you can't just pay on the bus, no, you have to buy a ticket in the ticket machine. So that's what I do, no, that's what I intend to do, but the damn thing doesn't work, even after I was lucky enough to have the right change on me. So the next bus comes along, and this time they have no choice but to let me in, after I mumble "machine broken" and do my backwards nodding thing. Right there I decide that this is the wrong day to give up coffee, and for the rest of the journey I'm happily hallucinating about that black magic fluid.
At the office, Bamse walks in with a fresh hair-cut and colour, and announces it's his birthday. Yiphee, that means we get cake! But not 'till after lunch of course. I decide to stay put by my desk in the lunchbreak, look a bit on the internet for a new flat, so I just pop out to Sainsbury's to get some food. A pasta/chicken salad is today's choice. Or as the packaging should have said: "mayonnaise with bits of pasta and chicken. And some red stuff to give it some colour, and something else to make the whole thing taste revolting." I've already written the letter: "Dear Sainsbury's. I'm writing to tell you that your pasta/chicken salad is absolutely inedible. Please remove it from your shelves, and provide us with something good, cheap and healthy instead. Your's truly, Scarpa."
Back at the office, I discover that Bamse has not bought one cake, he's bought three. And they're all my favorite. Sometimes when people buy cake, they just go for the biggest, loudest chocolate bomb they can find. Now I'm not one to slag off chocolate, but they just never live up to the expectations. But Bamse got it just right, so I spend the afternoon in cake heaven.
Rather than going to the gym after this orgie, I decide to go shopping. I've been so good for such a long time, I deserve just a quick peak in the shops, just to see what's new. Thankfully, I only have time to fall for a beautiful blue T-shirt before the shop closes, so I leave only £18 poorer today. I still haven't had dinner, and I'm getting dizzy, so I head to Borders, for a glossy magazine fix and something to eat, but as ususal, the papier maché sandwiches aren't that tempting, so I go for a bucket of green tea instead. What the hell, there's no day like tomorrow to start a health craze...

Desperate Housewives... with 48 hours in the day...

2005-06-10T03:22:00.000Z

I bought one of those food/home/life magazines yesterday. Don't ask me why, I just thought maybe I should start cooking some more, something new and healthy and exciting (I must have been delirious). And I've got this idea in my head that maybe I should become a grown-up one day. AND it had a picture of a very sexy strawberry cheesecake on the cover (yeah, it was Wednesday and I haven't seen Spikey since Monday morning). So I got home, the weather was beutiful and I had bought haddock for the BBQ and lots of vegetables to go into a rice salad (my my, houswifey me). So I cooked for Puma and me, while rocking to Like a Virgin (it's got to be done), and afterwards, feeling very good about myself, I sat down and had a browse through my new shiny magazine. It has this section, how to lose 5lb in two weeks. Yes! I thought, that's just for me. Now. Tell me. Who the fuck in the whole wide world makes THIS for breakfast: Spiced fruit kebabs. Serves 2. Thread fruits such as 3 quartered fresh figs, a small chopped pineapple and 8 strawberries on to 2 skewers. Mix together the zest of 1 orange with its juice, a pinch of cinnamon and 2 tablespoons of runny honey. Drizzle over the kebabs and put under a hot grill for 6 minutes, turning them occasionally. Serve at once with 110g (4oz) of low fat yogurt per person... Are you kidding me? Is this before or after we do a home manicure? I am grateful if I can get my sorry ass out of bed early enough to have a shower before I go to work, let alone play Nigella before I've had my fix from Nero's. Now I don't know who has the time to make THIS for lunch: Cheese omelette... French onion soup... Roquefort, walnut and apple salad... Goat's cheese and salsa... Tuscan bean soup (give me a break!!!)... Eggs florentine... Don't these people work??? I guess the alternative is to spend your lunchbreak seeking for restaurants that make these dishes, then asking them to not use any oil or cream, do this for a week and then be too broke to eat for the rest of the month. That'll get you nice and skinny. What's for supper then, something that's been marinated for three days, or maybe a whole turkey with the lot? Ladies, who-ever and where-ever you are, save your money, save your time, and go to the bloody gym instead!!!

what?

2005-06-10T02:54:00.000Z

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

I'm in shock! I obviously don't know myself at all... I hate attention seekers... well now I know why, I am one myself!!! apparently...
Now where's my cigar...

!

2005-06-10T02:43:00.000Z

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

I'm off to blockbusters then....

Picture this

2005-06-08T20:42:00.000Z

The scene is set on a Sunday evening in a north-London pub. At first sight it seems a fairly posh one, you know, the kind where you can get bangers and mash capable of driving all past and present demons away. But as the actors settle into their roles and someone shouts "ACTION!", you quickly realize that this isn't the case.
A Man and a Woman walk in, with the usual certain cheekyness in their smiles, and place their orders at the bar. They spot their friends at the back of the room, where Sexy Guitarist is attempting a game of pool against a Jamaican in sweatpants, and make their way to the table. She smiles at the man staggering on a collision course towards them, at the last moment his centre of balance shifts and they reach their destination safely. Greetings are exchanged, kisses blown in the air, and the group gathers for a quick toast.
The camera zooms out to take in the supporting cast. We see a 20 stone woman of about 25, wearing tight fitting nylon baggy trousers, singing loudly to the Robbie Williams tune playing in the background, Sweatpants does a hop and a skip, Staggering Man enters the room, is about to fall into WhTr woman's lap, she sends out a roar (she might be laughing) and we hear someone shouting in the other room.
Zoom back on our group, Sexy Guitarist is now sitting down, has a crooked smile on his face and a lustfull look in his eyes, looking at Blonde Bombshell. The subject of discussion is travel.
Blonde Bombshell: "I've never really fancied going to China or Japan, although I know they've got, like, a massive history and culture and all that"
the Man: "Yeah, I'm the same, never been to keen on going there either"
Blonde Bombshell: "I think it's just 'cause I don't really fancy chinese or japanese men"...
Someone shouts "CUT!" and the lights go out. But if you look very carefully, you will se the Woman's jaw rolling on the floor, her eyes hanging out of their sockets, she can't believe her ears.
I wonder if I'm wasting my time.

hmmm...

2005-06-08T15:00:00.000Z

Your Brain is 73.33% Female, 26.67% Male

Your brain leans female
You think with your heart, not your head
Sweet and considerate, you are a giver
But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

What Gender Is Your Brain?

Glory, two aunties, tunes and tummytrouble

2005-06-01T04:57:00.000Z

Glory to the one that invented bank holidays! A 3 day weekend, a much needed 3 day weekend (after a strenuous, ahem, er... 2 day week), glorious 3 day weekend (er... do I need a holiday? Or am I just developing Alzheimers?).
It sort of kick-started thursday evening when Piccola and Sunnyside came to visit from up north, they're on their way to Thailand and wanted to do a bit of shopping in London first. Going to Thailand for a month... bastards!
Friday I left them to their own devices and reluctantly headed up to N10 to meet Spikey and his out-of-town, visiting aunties... yikes. He had warned me: "they are crazy, but a lot of fun". Yeah, I want to be sitting in a park, enjoying the sticky heat and sunshine we've been blessed with today, but no...
After they left, I felt like I'd been on a rollercoaster, laughing madly one minute, then on the verge of running out, screaming histerically... that was when one of them asked him: "so, do you love her?" Yikes, now he gets the panicky giggles as well, puts on two pairs of shades, hoping to disappear into thin air, I'm hoping the earth swallows me but it doesn't, no, instead auntie Redlocks takes my hand, now we dance. NOW WE DANCE. I'm dancing. With auntie. On Spikey's studio room floor. "Welcome to the family." Had they not been so hilariously funny, I swear I would have run straight out.
We survived the evening and on Saturday I made pancakes, final good impressions and then we were off the hook.
Time to head south of the river, our turn to show the northerners a good time, catch up on gossip from home (seems like the smaller the place you come frome, the juicyer the gossip) and unwind a bit. Spikey makes his special super-fast tuna pasta, wine and beer flow freely, the music grows louder, hey, here's a bottle of martini, bring it on...
It turned out a lovely evening, sitting in the kitchen, drinking martini, listening to good music, singing along (yikes! right?) to Belle and Sebastian... My sweet Spikey looked at me with a smile lighting up his whole face, "you can sing!". Obviously, he was drunk and high and I denied all charges. It's one thing to do something for fun, say when you're under the influence, or when you think you're alone, but another thing entirely to allow yourself to get into a situation where you might actually have to live up to reputations, expectations and all those other panic inspiring goodies. Speaking of panic, (and expectations for that matter... and being drunk which I plan to be), 5 weeks from today, looming in the near future, is the big three-o, my birthday. As I sit here, chewing on my £4.80 margherita, I wonder if I can manage to get a flat tummy in 5 weeks. Hehe, this makes me think of a cheesy pick-up line: "you've got the body I always wanted... I think it would look great on me". It's bad, I know, but if I have to be realistic ('cause that's what grown ups are - right?), my only chance of getting a flat tummy is if I get someone else's body... mind you, Spikey's isn't bad at all, oh nooo, firm back-side, lovely eyes, the cheekyest smile, and yes, the flat tummy I always dreamed of. See, even when I was the skinniest little girl in my class, I still had that pot-belly, sticking out of my trousers and my skirts (which gave my mum the giggles every time she made me dress up - must be her fault then, that I've never been a girly girl, I only ever wear pink as an attempt at sarcasm). Now where was I... oh yes, a lovely evening. At some point, we got the silly idea that we should go out somewhere, jumped on a bus going down the hill, but fortunately when we got there, Piccola was so drunk that no-one would let us in anywhere, so we did the only sensible thing and went back home, turned the music back on and carried on as previously.
Sunday came along, we chilled, monday came along, we chilled, went back to Spikey's place and then, inevitably, the work week started, I could hardly drag myself out of bed, my heavy ass down to the bus stop, the temptation to just stay in bed was almost to hard to overcome, had I not had all those sick days lately I probably would have let go... It's at times like these I realize how badly I need a holiday, I could be happy just motionlessly working on a tan, drinking nauseously sweet drinks and spending my money on stuff I'll never ever use... but first, that tummy...

sick day three - 02

2005-05-26T03:37:00.000Z

sick-day three - 01

2005-05-26T03:36:00.000Z

bored....

2005-05-23T23:56:00.000Z

Sick-days are highly over-rated... there's nothing you can do, the telly is crap, you know you shouldn't be doing housework (maaan, am i turning old or WHAT! even considering housework on a sick-day!!!). So what I'm gonna do is I'm gonna make a list. A list of what has happened in the last two months.

In the last two months I have:

met a great guy, and he thinks I'm great too :)
had 3 colds,
one STD... sort of, but not really
and one bladder infection
been subject to sexism at work
gotten a co-worker fired
broken into my own house
got kicked out of my own house (or rather, my rented flat, and the date is now set, the flat is sold and we´re out on July 28th)
tried class A drugs
smoked more weed than ever before in my life
worked like a lunatic
and all the while, slowly but surely, falling head over heals for above mentioned great guy... fuck

Garden party

2005-05-23T23:17:00.000Z

So here I am, Monday afternoon, flat in front of the telly (laptop on my belly) watching another one of those DIY programs (someone doing an extension with a fireplace). Why am I not at work? I´m having a sick day (a real one!). I've been struggling to get rid of this cold for a couple of months now, without much luck. Going to a garden party on Saturday didn't help much of course, sitting out there in the cold, the garden not being the only weed infested biomass around (could've used an extension with a fireplace actually). Good food though, and one girl wanted to hold my hand and another one called me pretty... a shame I'm not inclined that way, and neither were they... could have been interesting... maybe in another life. Sunday I resorted to Irish coffees, they got me warm pretty quickly, so soon it was time for a few beers, just to cool down, and all of a sudden - whaddoyaknow! - I'm tipsy... this can't be good for my health!!! Somehow I ended up inviting people over to mine for a BBQ next weekend, so I better get well fast, 'cause it looks like I've got a garden party coming up...

13 hours

2005-05-11T03:33:00.000Z

Man, work's gone bonkers again! It's not good for my health, I swear! CRed got fired though, that helps. Gonna have to get back to you when things calm down, just got home after a 13 hour work day, so long, I'm going to bed...

ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE

2005-04-29T06:58:00.000Z

AT THE LUNATIC ASYLUM

I have just had the weirdest day ever. Hilarious. It all started after I had been doing some tidying up in our filing system on the computer. Everything has been so hectic the last couple of weeks, that things haven't been saved in the right places, under the right names, etc. Small stuff really, but I, the good girl, got in early and was sorting it out. When the others arrived at the office I told them what I had been up to, where the stuff was saved; everybody happy. Until. CRed turnes around and says: oh... oh... eh... have you been moving the files around?
I answer: yes, like I told you ten minutes ago
CR: well I don't like to critisize people... but...
me: well bring it on
CR: well that means I can't find anything now
me: but I told you where I put them...
This goes on and he gets all worked up about file names, locations, whatever, he basically doesn't have a clue what he's talking about, and I try to explain to him how the system works. He just won't listen to what I'm saying, whenever I try to answer he goes: no no, hear me out, you know, I am older than you and I have got, you know, slightly more experience than you blah blah blah... In the end I challenge him, say: look, let me ask you a question then; I start the question and on he goes again, talking rubbish. This is where I start losing it, say: look, I'm asking you a question; he goes: well I'm answering it; I go: YOU CAN'T ANSWER MY QUESTION BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T HEARD THE QUESTION!!! Now he goes: what! what are you, twenty-two or something...What a fucking loser this guy is, I just say: Right, I'm not wasting my time on this bullshit; I turn away, put on my headphones and start working. Now he says: oh this is just typical female! BIG MISTAKE!!! I throw off my headphones, storm out of the room and just when I'm passing his desk I give him the finger and mouth: FUCK OFF!!! Luckily, one of the partners of the firm has overheard what was going on, asks if everything is all right, I say NO, he asks if I want to talk about it, I say YES... please; we sit down and I explain to him what went on, as calmly as I can when I´m shaking and shivering with anger. He of course agrees with me that this is completely unacceptable and says he'll have a word with him, I go out for a walk to cool down.
When I get back, CRed gets up, stands all straight and goes: I´m supposed to give you an apology, I was just being naughty, I´m like that you know, I've got daughters, I get in trouble with them as well, and my wife...
me: that has nothing to do with this
CR: yes I know, I was just teasing you, you know, I´m like that but I just think the filing blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah...
me: I´m not willing to discuss this with you, I think this needs to be dealt with at management level
CR: yes you're right, we need to all sit down and talk about this but I just, you know, I think the filing blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah...
And I can't believe I'm having this conversation, repeat myself: I´m not willing to discuss this with you, is that all right
CR: eh yes, but no, you know I am older than you and have got slightly more experience than you, and I just think the filing blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah...
I start explaining to him again what it's all about and still he won't hear me out, I say: listen... but on and on he goes, sorry fucker, and at this point I say: right, whatever, don't listen, put on my headphones again and turn to the computer, I've got work to do.

Now this is a pretty fucked up start to the day, wouldn't you say? Just wait.

A bit later I go to the toilet to have a wee. Oh no. Burning sensation, oh yes, it's bladder infection. Luckily, there is a walk-in clinic just around the corner from the office, I check it out in my lunch break, they open at 5 pm. I take off early to go there, fill out the forms, wait for my turn (can't believe my luck, I've got Vogue in my bag AND I've got time to read it!). The nurse, about fifty-ish with orange hair and a floral frock thingy on, calls me in, asks what she can do for me, I tell her I've got bladder infection.
Nurse: oh, I'm afraid we can't help you with that, you need to see your GP
Shit, going to see a GP in this country is no laughing matter. Or maybe that's exactly what it is, one big pathetic laughing matter. She sees my disappointment and starts asking questions:
nurse: are you sexually active?
me: yes
nurse: when did you last have sex?
me: on the weekend, er, on Sunday
nurse: was it with a new partner?
me: yes
nurse: did you use a condom?
me: no (god, why can't I ever spot a good opportunity to lie???)
nurse: don't you think that's a bit risky?
me: er, yes, er, but ehm, we do use condoms, er sometimes, uhm, but not always, and I know you can't rely on it but we're very careful...
nurse: what are you going to do if you're pregnant (WHAT! I'm not pregnant)
me: eh, don't know, eh, deal with it... or something
nurse: right, we can give you the tests for chlamidya, gonorrhea...
me: no no, that's not necsessary, I had that done a few weeks ago, all clear and I've only had this one partner since
nurse: that's good, now Sunday you say, was the last time you had sex
me: yes
nurse (looking at the clock): now it's to late for you to get emergency contraception... (WHAT! I'm not pregnant)
me: no no no, that's not... I don't need that, I'm not interested...
nurse: right, ok. Sunday you say...
me: yes
nurse: was it a particularly heavy session? (MAN! you couldn't make this shit up)
I give up, look at her and say: Yes! Can't even remember what she replied.
nurse: right, I'm sorry we can't help you with the bladder infection, you have to see your GP about that
me: do you think I'll be able to get an appointment tomorrow, it just seems so difficult to get a good service in this country
nurse (nods): Well they should keep one or two slots open for emergencies, if you go there and explain to them, hopefully they can help you (GREAT! hopefully they can help me)
She is a real sweetie though and in the end sends me home with a pot to pee in so that I can take it with me to the doctor's first thing.

Time to head home, go get my gym stuff, and I'm wondering if I should do the shopping before or after the gym. Walk up to the security guy in front of Sainsbury's and ask him when they're closing. He looks at me and answers: eeeehh, maaayyybeee 10 o'clock
me (feel hysteric giggles welling up inside me): what, maybe 10 o'clock? Or maaayybeee... whenever?
security guy: yes, or maaayyybeee 10 o'clock...
What can I do?! I walk away, hairwidths away from breaking into disbelieving hysterics, can somebody just turn the lights off and end this day, for crhist's sakes!!!!!!!!!

A DAY IN THE LIFE

2005-04-27T06:48:00.000Z

AT THE OFFICE

Six o'clock the alarm rings, I have plans to be at work at seven. At six thirty I crawl from underneath duvet no1(req), duvet no2(req) and wool blanket(optional), pull off my granny Ella's hanknit woollen socks(req) and wrap the wool cardie(optional) tighter. Have a dysfunctional shower in my dysfunctional bath, no make up today (a "nice to have", but neatly placed in the "optional extra" category these days), jump into the nearest clean clothes and I'm off to work.
Stupid busdriver doesn't stop at the bus stop even though a dozen people are standing there waiting to get off. Just because no-one actually pressed the stop button, he just drives on. As if he doesn't know we all want to get off, it's by the bloody tube stop... stupid fffff...aaargh, too tired to get worked up about it. Right... to Nero's for my fix, savour the last five minutes before I unlock the gate, then the door, to the office. Get a few minutes to myself, then the boss walks in the door. I can almost hear it before I see him, I can definately see it on his face the moment he walks into the room... he's in one of his panicky moods... lucky me!
Things get so hectic that Tootsie has to resort to bidding good morning via e-mail, sometimes our only possible way of communication. Very useful for sharing our shock over Crazy Redface's and Dulldude's ways.
Sometime during the morning i discover my half full latte on my desk - ice cold. Fuck it, I need my coffee. Into the microwave it goes. Thank you very much.
At lunchtime I need to go home, this real estate guy is coming to look at the flat. Yep, the landlord is selling. Which means me and lady rubberduck have to move. Oh-nooo, I'm sooo gonna miss the woodlice in the bathroom, the non-existing central heating, the uncleanable kitchen... I could go on.
Back at work, the afternoon is as hectic as the morning. I take off early to go to my usual Tuesday lecture. Somewhere in between all this, there was a bit of outline/scheme design, a little feasibility study, lots of phonecalls (pathetic attempts to press the planners and miserable excuses to the client) and plenty of assurance to the boss: I have got matters under control. Anything to bring a smile to his little face.

back on track

2005-04-21T06:12:00.000Z

Sooo, what's been going on since last time... let's see... this might be a good time to do a status check.

Men:
Still seeing Spikey and he's absolutely lovely - still taking it slowly and seeing where things go.
I never mentioned the others:
Well, there was Roller-boy... for about five and a half years. Still a good friend, which wasn't popular with Lunalatina, who he had to split up with in order to avoid getting married in a year's time. Well done, Roller boy :)
Then there was that new-years eve thing. Nothing to say about that but WORST SEX I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY WHOLE LIFE. And that's counting the drunken fumbling first few times. Well done, Aussie boy, you've shamed your country.
Actually, Disco-boy came before him, but as I told him I didn't want to see him again after a perfectly good date at the Tate, he doesn't really count 'till later. Why did I say that to him? See, according to my calculations, that should have made him well keen... guess I just forgot that he's not a woman! Shortly after new-year technology took matters into its own hands and dialled his number, which resulted in half a handful of visits to a posh part of town and ended in, well... me basically being told to go fuck myself... albeit a bit more politely, bless him and his excellent upbringing. Oh well, he's hot, but my god, don't he just know it!
Then there was Steadman. Met him at a cultural dinner. Sounds posh but wasn't. He was cute. I probably exchanged our numbers, typically I don't remember doing it, but magically this phonenumber appeared in my phonebook, and a few days later it called. So we went out. As I said to my friend Tootsie, he's nice looking and we had pleasant conversation. She said "sounds boring". We said "call Disco-Boy". I say "mistake". See this is where I pulled my biggest Bridget-stunt to this date. After having left a message on D-boy's answer phone (mistake number one), we leave the pub, head down the tube. Phone rings, it's him, I answer (mistake number two), start running up the escalator (mistake number three), shout "guess what I'm doing, I'm running up the escalator" laughing hysterically (mistake four through to one hundred), admit not being able to making it up (mistake 101), promise to call later. Call after I arrive at my stop, get invited to "come on and get some of that good sex" (honestly! it was just ok). I politely decline, and this is where he politely suggests I go home and fuck myself. Instead I have a Big Daddy Burger (mistake 102). Hmm... wonder if I'll hear from this guy again. No matter. There's Spikey. Yes yes oh yeah!

Work:
Crazy.

Social life:
Picking up, after a period of particularly heavy workload.

Domestic life:
The dishes are done and the laundry is hanging. Domestic bliss.

a good weekend?

2005-04-05T05:05:00.000Z

I've been sitting here for an hour, trying to figure out what to write about this weekend. Hmmm... It was interesting. I'll have to get back to you on this, have to sleep on it some more. It was good. Yes it was. Although I had to work and there was a bit of a sad twist, it was good, in a way. I wonder where this will lead...

Reflections

2005-03-31T08:11:00.000Z

On not drinking: Interesting. Weird experience to have an hour long conversation with someone, who, the day after, asks: "what was I saying to you yesterday? Hope I didn't embarrass myself". God, it's usually me saying that!

On taking drugs: Like I said to my friend Tootsie: "This would never have happened had I been drinking."

Well then, that says it all, don't it?

right........ easter weekend

2005-03-30T06:10:00.000Z

hmmm... where to start... let's try the beginning:

Thursday night at the pub with work, then into town to meet spikey, go to a restaurant, good food, lotsa wine - good. So far, so good. Right. Oh, hang on, forgot something...

Thursday morning at the Department of Genitourinary Medicine... so far, so very not good. Get a pack of antibiotics, told not to drink alcohol for 5 days. Right. As of tomorrow.

Now. Late Thursday night trying to find my keys in my rather large bag (good when I need to bring an extra pair of shoes or other items of clothing along with me - what! a girl can't always know in the morning what she wants to wear in the evening!). Right. Keys not there and the oh so very yummie (who, by the way, is very cool about the you know what) standing right here... hmmm... what to do? Well, nothing to do but break in. So that's what I do. Alarmingly easy. Mental note - eeehh... remember to do something about that...

Friday spent recovering, start taking my pills, two in morning, two in evening. Go see a movie, spend the night at spikey's. So far, no disasters. Oh, unless you'd call spending the night at a new guy's studio flat when his cousin is visiting and sleeping on the sofa a disaster. I'd call it weird. Definately. Did I mention I'm almost thirty?

Saturday (once again). Apparently I'm going to meet his friends today. Actually, my plan was to play tourist over easter, you know, see the sights, go to museums and all that, but hey... So we go to the pub, watch the game (yes!), drink a few pints... of lemonade, oh yes, mad stuff! Now meeting a guy's friends is always tricky. Not being allowed to drink makes it worse. fact. Now these are a bunch of pretty laid back people, which makes it not so bad. So far, so good. Now he's been talking about this drug (yes!), MD (yes!), which is supposed to be really good (where is this going???)
>>>fast forward>>>
The guys are jamming in the kitchen and I wonder if my head is funny 'cause of the class B smoke or the class A drug... anyway, think I better sit down. In a bit. A girl comes up and says something to me. I answer. I think. Notify my guy that I'm going to sit down because my head is funny. Go to the bathroom. Have to remove a mirror from the sink to wash my hands. My eyes are funny. Or is it my sight that is funny... anyway, better sit down again. We leave the party (but not before spikey asks: "will you be my girlfriend?" and I wonder why I wasn't invited to this kind of parties when I was fifteen, or maybe I went to sleep and slept for fifteen years and only just got up and just didn't realise that I'm not at all twenty-nine but fourteen and this is sooo cool but still a bit scary and I wonder if mum and dad will find out and wait till I tell the girls at school they'll be so jealous and... no). The night is almost over, but not till I manage to utter the words: "chicken good - yeah".

The rest of the weekend goes up in smoke, mostly at my place and then it's tuesday and we all go back to work.

saturday

2005-03-23T06:23:00.000Z

Open one eyelid. Close mouth. Roll over. Oh. Hello yummie... er, I mean...(sinking feeling in gut)... No! My god!
Now someone better get their ass back from fjarskanistan REAL FAST or this could get embarrassing. Ok. What to do? There must be a way of finding out. But let's look at things rationally, get our priorities right. So. A bit of morning glory. Right. Done (by the way - WOW!). Now what. "Are you hungry?" How the hell is that going to help! Tease him a bit " My my, young man, 26, eh!" He says he's 27. But in a good way, mabe even joking. How would I know, somehow my conversational skills tend to leave me from time to time. They might be having an affair with my memory. I should rent out the extra space in my head: dark and dingy space to let for weekends only (occational vacancies at other times), ideal for city breaks, guaranteed good fun, will take no responsibility for bodily harm, starvation or inexplicable aches and paines. But for now I'm on my own.
Did I mention that I'm lucky? Mr yummie here needs to do a bit of paperwork, real quick, if that's ok. Just borrow the www for a coupla minutes. Hehe, where are my glasses, this is too good to be true. It's all down to eyesight now, good old basic hardware stuff. Spikey! That's it, now I remember (sort of), phew.

The door to nr 214 open, a man and a woman step out. They look at each other and smile, a certain cheekyness in their eyes. They head up the street, the sun warms their aching heads, somewhere not far away music is playing.

...and how can I get there

2005-03-22T02:40:00.000Z

it was a beutiful early spring morning. the air was fresh but you could feel the warmth in the southern breeze. the door to no. 214 opens, a woman steps out, looks to the sky and smiles. it's going to be a good day. with a spring in her step, she heads for the bus stop, smiling at the school children running in the opposite direction.

amazing how much the weather can affect your mood, she thinks to herself. work seems but a childs play, specially when you spend most of your time e-mailing friends to plan the evening ahead, and how convenient that the boss needed to pop out for a few hours just before the lunch break.

"hello hello", she sais with laughter in her voice," I'm on my way to the lounge, see you guys in half an hour". watches the light fade as she descends the escalator, takes in the familiar smells of the underground and thinks: "it's going to be a good night".

one by one, they arrive, kisses are exchanged, the usual chit chat, beers are fetched, music fills the air, the conversation grows louder. beers are fetched. the music grows louder. off to the bar, beers are accepted as tokens of affection, she borrows a hat, gets a bit lost but is found by way of gsm, who's this, spikey! hello spikey, spills her beer, now where is that whotsername, well well well, she found herself a kok, er, sorry, a chef, samesame, now where's my beer, ah, on the floor, see, I'm fully coherent, now where did that 24 year old go and how did you manage to age 2 years so quickly, you're yummie, eh sorry, spikey, forgive my memory, it's on holiday, yeah, think it's gone to fjarskanistan, heard it's good there, so, my young knight, where's your black horse and how can I get there...

!

2005-03-22T01:23:00.000Z

ok guys, you don't need me anymore. just join an internet dating service - it's hilarious and good for the soul.

ha!

2005-03-20T09:27:00.000Z

I've got 23 new messages on my internet dating account and 15 guys have added me to their favorites. Just thought I'd tell you. oops, I was supposed to be making YOU feel good about yourselves... well, mabe the fact that I've got an internet dating account could do that for you. And you should see some of the guys, haha! Very entertaining actually.

hello it's my new blog :)

2005-03-17T07:09:00.000Z

sooooo, what to call my blog... hmmm... first thing that popped into my mind was something like: skitzophrenicpsychobitch. A bit too revealing perhaps. Not something I'd put in my internet dating profile. And really, I'm a sweetie. Really. Mhmm... Next good idea: shoeshe. ha! pathetic. Time to turn to my nearest dearest fellow skitzophrenicpsychobitch: mizzzzz b-bird. Sharp as a shark she suggested the perfect name: scarpa! Of course!!! I won't tell you why it's so right just yet. I'm sure you'll find out sooner or later.
Anyway, luv to you all, hope I'll be able to make you feel good about yourselves with my stories of bridget-stunts, moments of weakness, moments of megalomania and other quality characteristics. Basically stories of my fab life in London.