Ho hum.

On ITV we have Land of the Dead, and on C4 we have...Stepmom. Now that's a toughy... God I love zombies. They have such a good attitude towards things.

(Yoinked from Chyna)

Let's find out...to Google!

I'm on Bebo saying "Everything in excess...".

I'm professional support staff in the History Department at King's College, London.

My birthday is 31-3-87 - my mum and dad wish me a happy birthday!

I'm Grafik Magazine’s hugely talented staff writer, guest posting in its 150th issue.

I was born in Lexington, Kentucky, and The Fellowship Award will allow me to begin new chamber work for soprano and guitar, which I hope to submit to the Aspen Music Festival.

I am a research manager for Sports England.

I was named Associate Commissioner for Operations on March 12, 2007 after serving as the Assistant Athletic Director for Compliance/Senior Woman Administrator at Palm Beach Atlantic University.

I'm a real estate agent, and I think Prescott, Arizona is a beautiful place to live. Prescott offers clean fresh air, beautiful scenery, closeness to nature, great restaurants and sense of community. It would be a pleasure for me to assist you in researching the town and finding your dream home.

I rode Captain Buster over the table.

Lady Lucinda Hans.

Photos are rubbish as she is ridiculously fast and is smaller than the gerbils but I think she is splendid She is currently fast asleep, in her bed this time. She was sleepwalking earlier. I haven't held her yet because I cleaned out the original Hans and now smell of him in all his stinky glory, which would not go down well...

Radio 2 are blasting news facts out as they tend to do every afternoon and are currently horrified that an awful lot of young folk (I didn't catch the percentage) drink at least 44 bottles of wine a year.

Um...not quite a bottle a week...am I missing something?

A pre-Chinese Delivery discussion last night led me to some definite conclusions about some things - specifically, Outdoor Pursuits. "Would you want to come paintballing?", I am asked. "No", is my reply. That was the short answer. The long answer would be along the lines of "No way, José".

Post-Chinese, and post-That Mitchell and Webb Look (which, incidentally, has taken a whole series to be funny, but was worth the wait), I began to ponder. It is generally a given that I don't like doing anything at all, not just Outdoorsy Things, just absolutely anything whatsoever. More often that not it is due to my incredibly gripping fear that the inevitable following will occur:

a) prove demonstrably terrible at said activity
b) become subject of teasing and/or mocking
c) become inwardly hysterical and distraught
d) store up teasing and/or mocking inside where it will gnaw at me
e) consider self a failure at life and once more lament that we are not able to hibernate

All that considered, I have realised that I do not dislike the thought of some things not because I fear I will be terrible at them (although that is, naturally, a given), I simply fail to see the point in them entirely.

Paintballing

Paintballing is an activity where you dress up in oversized camouflage attire, stalk people in the woods, and shoot them with pellets of paint. If you are lucky, you will leave these woods with your eyesight intact, one remaining fully functioning kidney, and bruises weeping bloody tears.

Furthermore, on any occasion that you take it upon yourself to go paintballing, you will find that the folk taking part are all either:
a) 13 year old boys on a birthday trip
b) grown men who think they are Rambo
c) you

Invariably, the second group will forget they are part of a team and immediately adopt the persona of either a sniper in the Red Army, or a fugitive. The first group will almost certainly have their birthday party ruined by one of these adults taking it all a little bit too far. You will find yourself caught in the middle of a bloody, paint spotted massacre. This is not fun.

Laser Quest

Ditto ALL of the above, except that it is even more pointless. You are being zapped by a harmless laser and the worst injury you will sustain is a bruise from falling over in the ball pool or off some large padded bricks, which, incidentally, have been thrown up on, pissed on and probably shat on by traumatised children being fired at in the darkness by their invisible peers. You will leave dusty and nobody will know who won. This is not fun.

Abseiling and Rock Climbing

Regardless of the height or location of this activity, be it a sheer drop over the sea or a climbing wall in Cleethorpes Leisure Centre, the basic premise is the same. You must haul yourself up a wall, or bounce down it in a controlled manner, or you will fall. You know you cannot fall, because then you will swing and look a damn fool, and your genitals will be garotted by the harness you have been made to wear. Furthermore, your weight is being supported by somebody on the ground and if you DO fall and they get slammed into the bottom of the wall because your weight has catapulted them into the air, you will also feel fat, so you are a fat, swinging fool, groping at air, not entirely sure what to do. This is not fun.

Kayaking/Canoeing

Oh for fuck's sake. Nobody needs to do this anymore. You will get wet, you will get cold, your arms will get tired, you will get caught in the only fast current in the river, and you will be swept away. People will think you have mastered it, because you can't turn round to yell for help. The first thing you have to do is learn how to roll in the water correctly, because if you can't do this, you will drown. This is an excellent indicator of the stupidity of what you are about to do. All you will get out of this is an overwhelming urge for terra firma and a mars bar. Not. Fun.

Orienteering

Walking with checkpoints, en kagoul. Sigh.

Caving/Pot-Holing/Climbing into any crevice

There is a reason we don't live down there anymore. It's dark, wet, narrow, and stinks. Caves are inhabited solely by bats and bacteria. Evolution, people - it's happened, get used to it.

I should probably clarify that there are some things that I can see would be enjoyable. I merely feel that these are some of the more pointless activities in the world. Maybe I'm missing something but walking to work in the rain is traumatic enough for me.

If I ever have kids that want to do these stupid things I'm going to make them sign a disclaimer that devoids me of any parental responsibility. I shall wave them off, find a bench, and consume a flask of hot chocolate like a normal person.

I can't believe I forgot to mention this before now.

Since the piggies moved house on Friday there has been a baby animal shaped hole in my life. Obviously something needed to be done about this. Obviously.

No pictures I'm afraid as she won't keep still, but don't worry Nick, tonight I intend to get some photos of my new hamster Lucy!

So to give them their full titles, it is now Lord Super Hans and Lady Lucinda Hans, but these need only be used in formal company, such as when the King of Rodenti comes to visit.

And may I add, she is beautiful, as only a Lady Lucinda could be.

Hmm, what's in my bag?

Large, bulky red notebook that says RESPECT all over it
Large, bulky wallet, probably the size of a bag to some girls
Pair of gloves
Strip of 10 painkillers that give me nosebleeds and make me itch
Pay slip
6 receipts from Pets at Home, same amount each from Tesco Express, Sainsbury's and The Range.
Tube of pink hand cream
Large tub of chewing gum
Individual chewing gums that have spilt from the tub
3 sets of keys
Pot of lip balm
Tube of lip balm
Another tube of a different type of lip balm
Black beads
And Endsleigh Insurance memory stick
5 pens
Face powder
Buttons that have fallen off 3 different coats
Lipstick
Concealer
Mobile
Scarf
A Japanese pencil
Satchet of hot chocolate
2 jars of jam
1 jar of marmalade
Creme egg foil
Satchets of salt. Lots.
A gazillion gaudy paperclips
Packet of tissues - open, dusty.
Letters for other people that I keep forgetting to post and probably don't matter anymore
4 hair bands
Crumbs. Egads, the crumbs.

Y'know if any blokes did this it would consist of "lining fabric, and a sachet of sillicone stuff we musn't eat".

I am back at work today (it's pointless adding something about how little I want to be here, suffice to say: AAAARGGGHHHHYEGODS).

So, given how little I want to be here (ARGH! AAAARRRGGGH!) I can either:

Catch up on the week of work I have not done which other people have started to do and then left for me to finish off properly (argh argh), or -

I can attempt to familiarise myself with the other job that I'm yet start but I am already kind-of doing (in that I have already started to ignore invoices, things to order, things to chase up, meetings to book, people to pay...so in short, the entire job), or -

I can start to write a folder for the pleb that will replace me about how easy it is to do my job and the hardest part for a long time has been writing a folder for it, or -

Write a load of letters to people that are getting money (SNORE), or -

I can take the phone off the hook and do sweet, merry fuck all whilst listening to radio 2 and counting down the whole two hours until lunch.

Hmm.

I think the fact that I have sprained my wrist* and couldn't even brush my hair this morning, let alone grip a mouse (yet strangely I can blog, odd) is a key factor in my decision in this matter.

Tra la la.

*wrist sprained when back whilst going up stairs in flat, causing leg to freak out, causing ankle to go over on itself, causing me to land on the stairs, on my wrist, also banging my head. Was not a good evening for me.

I know we girls can take a long time in the bathroom (and I don't count myself in that, at all), but seriously...!

I have finally got in touch with the lady that takes guinea pigs and explained the problems I've been having. She agreed that if after the three weeks I've had them that the problems aren't getting any better - which they're not, it's getting worse, with lots of nipping and squeaking and rumblestrutting - then they really need splitting up. She's going to get back in touch with me asap. I has a sad about this, but they have to go. I will cry.

I spent much of my time this morning plotting how to make money while working part time. It eventually dawned on me that this is rarely possible, unless I become a hooker. Before I got too grumpy, though, I remembered that I'll have friday off, I was off with my back yesterday, and I'm leaving early today. Hurrah! Part time week!

Sign spotted in a window down my street:

THIEVES
We've been robbed twice in a month. To save u wastin ur time, our laptops and bikes have been nicked, the telly is fu*cked [yes, with the extra star], we've sold everything else for weed and smoked it all. U can take the empties tho.

Cheeky little bas*tards.

I almost got run over by:
A stationary minibus
A woman on a bike with a kid sat on the crossbar
A dude on an electric scooter (menace), and
A Burmese mountain dog, followed by its troubled owner.

Since arriving at work I have realised that I'm really not sure what I'm supposed to be doing re new job, given that I'm also still supposed to be doing old job, and only getting paid for old job, yet I have been given something to do re new job. I'm solving this confusion with many varieties of biscuits.

Such is the excitement of a Tuesday morning.

1) I do not like thunder and lightning. I DO NOT LIKE IT. Pleasestoppleasestoppleasestop...*plugs headphones into TV*

2) Too many biscuits + too much diet coke = potential for little sleep, again.

3) Wombache + arsebone ache = symmetrical simultaneous body ache = potential for little sleep, again.

Hmph.

There are people I miss. Things I want to do, but can't. So many salty things I want to devour. (Oh matron. However, I'm thinking more along the lines of fried potato goods.)

Let's all play spot the walking hormone!

There seems to be a bit of blog-break fever sweeping this place at the moment. I've got it myself. Need a breather for a few days me thinks.

"Bring forth snacks, minions!"

x

I have definitely been offered the job, and I am definitely taking it.

I had a chat with my boss who said he had no doubts or qualms about my ability to do the job... his major concern was more the fact that I am a complete and utter gobshite. Cheeky. I "give it that". Not rude, not cocky, just quick witted and usually have a quip ready for things. It may not be the best attitude to have as I will be coming across senior management folk more often who may not understand me like he does. I responded, almost automatically, with "Shall I get a lobotomy?". That's the kind of thing he means, apparently

I reassured him that I'm not a total loon, I can hold my tongue and be calm and serious, and that a lot of it comes from being bored and unstimulated at the moment, so being like that keeps my mind ticking. It's also a comfort thing to get over nerves. He thought the same, which is good.

So, I do feel a bit better about it now. My current job will be waiting for me, part time if I wish, in September, or full time if I don't do that MA, which I do really want to do. We were talking about a few things and I mentioned a couple of ideas I had had and he seemed quite keen - I think he wants to try and make things less stuffy in a few areas of the service and maybe I'll be able to help with that. If not, it's only for 6 months, 9 at the most, what's the most damage I can do?

So hurrah for me. Now I need to learn how to behave, how to budget, and how to do a billion other things without cocking anything up. Just short of a personality transplant really, but bring it on.

Bloody hell, that ended on a positive note...

I have four spots!!

That's better.

The title obviously needs a Partridge voice.

I'm back at work tomorrow, haven't been in for over a week. Not really looking forward to it. What I really, really want to do is go in, say "screw both your jobs!", dance a hoedown on the waiting room table, go to the coffee shop for a vanilla milkshake and raspberry cheesecake, and go to my mum and dad's for a few days. I'm enraged that I cannot do this!

I think the pigs have to go. They aren't getting used to each other, the tension and chasing and nipping is getting worse. I think if there were a few of them they might get on better, but I can't get anymore. One of them is getting a bit aggressive towards me with no good reason (I've even stopped giving them their eyedrops early, not that I really had a choice in the matter) which I can't be doing with. The animal shelter gave me the number for the woman that fosters guinea pigs for them and I'm going to ring her tomorrow. Best do it now before I get even more attached to them, I reckon. It makes me sad, but they aren't very happy at the moment either.

I went to see Vantage Point earlier. It was...ok. It had potential to be really, really good, but the dialogue was just awful. "I've got you, Mr President, I'm here!". It had me in stitches. Quite a good car chase though. I like acceleration and vrooming - it makes me twitch. The cinema seat has fricked up my back terribly though, I was in agony and had to pull myself out the seat using the one in front at the end of the film. I look forward to my oh so comfortable work chair tomorrow - not. I'm fairly certain that if I went back to the doctor he would give me a sick note for another week, or even two, but the longer I leave going back to work the worse it will be.

Still, went out for tea before the cinema, and we were the only people in the restaurant, which was amusing. Had a pizza with sauteed potato on, amongst other yummy things, and very nice it was too. Hurrah for cheese.

This is a secret:

This is a secret:

This is a secret:

This isn't a secret:

This is just obvious. Show me somebody who would actually prefer to be vulnerable, please. This is just a statement. If somebody said that to me, my reaction would be more along the lines of "well, duh" than "don't worry, I'll keep your secret". I just don't get it. It's just a statement. A feeling.

Here is my secret: I only look at postsecret because somebody I once loved said that they did, and I wonder if we're both looking at it at the same time, being amused or scornful or shocked by the same ones.

No wait, that's a statement about myself.

Ok: I had a friend who was obsessed with ketchup, on everything. It did my head in. So I sent her satchets of it in the post, anonymously, and was glad it freaked her out.

I know which of those would have a better chance of appearing on Frank's site.

Guilty Pleasures, ITV, now.

This is an excellent TV show to watch on your own with a bottle of red.

Tunstall...is so hot.

My guilty pleasure song is All Coming Back To Me Now. Or, pretty much any Celine.

Hans's guilty pleasure is trifle. Not a song, but still, it goes straight to the hips!

Like this chocolate.

I am soooo giggly and alone!

Why is cereal so lush? I could happily eat it for almost every meal, along with toast lathered in Clover.
Why do some cereals rise in the bowl when you add milk, but with some (like this sultana bran I am currently scoffing) seem to clump and sink?
Indiana Jones is brilliant. I'm going to listen to the theme tune on the DVD menu a few times before I press play. It makes me feel like I want to go on an adventure, right after I've finished laying around.
Why has the water in the goldfish tank turned minging overnight? It's never done that before. Maybe they have had the runs.
I love my baby goldfish. Some are darker than others so I know which will look like mummy and which like daddy when they get older. I have about 45 left now.
I really am going to get rid of my minnows. I want a little sofa instead.
The gerbils may have to go too...
Why have I put the Temple of Doom on? It scares the bejesus out of me.
I wish I had Jurassic Park on DVD. It's what I want more than anything right now. I think I'll buy it later.
Shall I go out for somebodies birthday later?
If I had a sofa in my room I could sit with a piggie on my knee. I hope they start to like me for more than my dried herbs soon. And like each other. *poke* Stop trying to hump him!! Gah.
Do do do dooooo, do do dooooooo, do do do doooooo, do do dooo do DO! *play*
Jaffa cake, nom nom.
I wish I could speak Chinese, that'd be so cool.
I think I might make myself a CV as I don't have one and the MSN homepage is telling me I should have one.
Harrison Ford - hotter now, or when he was younger? That's very hard.
I find picking scum off my nose stud one of the greatest pleasures in life. Picking my nose in general makes me very happy.
I hope Hans is happy right now!
Should do something useful, like make bed, not lie on it.
Okidokie Dr Jones.

I'm so tired that I'm rubbing my eyes and face like a 2 year old, and I want my bed so badly, but I fancy a short chat with the screen first.

I did a silly thing today. I forgot I was a cripple, and moved furniture. Nothing heavy or large, but it involved a lot of bending, moving plugs and cables, and so on. Now I hurt bad. An invisible b*stard is kicking my back again. I can't take anything though as I've just had a wee bit of wine. My room does look a bit better though. It'll need doing again in about a month I reckon - I aim to keep the piggies in here and they'll need a bit of room. I think I'm going to get rid of my minnows the tank isn't big but does take up a fair bit of wall space. I like watching them though... We'll see.

I got the piggies some pigloos they look cute sat in them. They are still being mean to each other, although earlier on they did seem to unite in fear and terror of the hoover. Albert seems to be feeling a little bit better and has given me some excellent wheeks. George is yet to wheek. Albert keeps trying to hump George *sigh* he brings the tellings off on himself. I also got them some dried purple echinacea to nibble, they love it, and will help against their colds. I'm such a good mummy

I feel like I've had so much time off work...I feel worried about going back on Monday.

I've eaten so much crap today. I have tummyache.

I feel so tipsy and sleepy. Zzzzz.

It took 16 stressful minutes to get onto a website to do so, but the V tickets are booked. That's my holiday for the year sorted.

*spring and prance*

I has a cookie.

Tickets for V Festival go on sale at 10am tomorrow. I have set my alarm. Muse and the Verve headlining - schwing.

Albert's the cutest thing on the planet, and his eyes look a bit better, even if he is still sneezing.

Sid and Michelle finally got it on in Skins.

I have a new job. They think I'm an idiot...but still, I have a new job. The pay's a bit better, too.

My back is feeling marginally, minutely better. I still can't sit with any weight on it but at least I can perch on a chair ok.

I don't think that's too bad a list.

Terribly. It has made me have a big sad.

On the way home I bought kettle chips, a bar of Green and Black's, four Taste the Difference triple chocolate chewy cookies, and a bottle of red (even breaking the £5 barrier). Oh, and some ham. Everybody needs ham. I'm a comfort eating pro. Maybe it will turn into celebratory junk food, and maybe pigs will fly.

Pigs... George does not like Albert. The internet assures me that everything they are doing is just standard dominance behaviour but the cage is NOT big enough for the both of them. Albert is poorly, he doesn't need to be thrown out of his bed every 5 minutes by another pig that thinks it's boss. I am going off George rather quickly and may take him back.

And now I'm crying so, so much and it won't stop I'm such a freak.

This guy has inspired me.

I hate Facebook. I hate it like Smeagol hates Gollum. I need it like they both need the Ring. I needs it, Precious, but I hates it, it consumes us!

I have been threatening to give it up, even get rid of it entirely, but many folk tell me I'm a fool to have such thoughts.

Row, Juzzzy, Bradders...enjoy that final poke, for it was your last.

Just need to close the tab at the top now...

Following a conversation with my boss, I have learned that Occupational Health (*hissss*) are saying that I can't go back to work until I have a Return to Work Certificate. That gets capital letters because nobody seems to know what the hell that is, including the GP receptionist I just spoke with (well, I spoke, she drawled). The doctor will ring me today to discuss it. "Will that be this morning?" "It'll be today." Ok ok, jeez.

I wanted to go in today because they're having a trial workshop for the project we're doing, using student advice volunteers - the best kind of students, they're rather eager. I did the powerpoints for it and wanted to see if everything works well. I suppose if the students are unimpressed I don't have to hear them rip it to pieces.

I'm supposed to have an interview tomorrow for that other job I applied for, so I'll definitely have to go in whether they like it or not. I'm not going to get it. I'm hardly the world's most reliable employee.

The Pigs hate me. I'm rubbish at doing eye drops. They shut their eyes. As I'm holding onto them with both hands, this is a problem. I'll try a new method tonight - wrap tightly in tea towel, place in middle of table, prise open eyes, feed parsley. They look a bit poorlier

If I'm not going to be able to go to work today, I'm going to spend it in bed, sleeping.

EDIT: Spoken to doctor. Nosebleeds aren't good, apparantly, so I'll have to put up with invisible Mr Stabby for a bit longer. I'm to stay off work until Monday. A r g h. I'm still going in my my interview tomorrow though. I'm tempted to ask if there's any point, but can't hurt to try I suppose.

I don't feel like I've had a reet proper moan in a while. I can't hold it in anymore.

The painkillers I've been given for my back have been working semi-ok up until now, lessening the pain (although not entirely) and making things a bit easier. I think they're becoming less effective though. The pain is getting really quite sharp. I also seem to be suffering from really bad headaches, incredibly itchy skin from head to toe, they space me out, have made me so constipated (again) that I constantly feel nauseus, and give me nosebleeds. I can't win - either way, I'm hurting somewhere, and would be no good at work.

I'm so bored of being at home that I'm going back to work tomorrow anyway.

The state of the kitchen has been driving me mad. Every day I've been at home, I've wiped the sides down completely free of crumbs, spills, packets, buttery knives, everything. Minutes after someone gets home, they're filthy again.

Today, I cleaned everything in sight in there. Bleach got everwhere. I cleaned the windowsills. I wiped the grease off the knobs on the oven. I threw away all the crap - menus, broken pens, dead flower petals, envelopes, just general Life Debris that had gathered on top of the fridge and table. I cleaned and bleached the sink, washing up bowl, draining board and drainer. I took their washing out the washing machine that had been there 3 days, noticed it smelt a bit, so rinsed it and spun it again, and put it in their room. I picked 6 hair grips out of the seal that were turning rusty, tried to bleach the mould out of it, and then ran diluted bleach through the whole machine to give it a good clear out. I washed all the dirty tea towels. I took out all the rubbish. The only thing I didn't do is clean the floor, because by that time my back was screaming. There wasn't a thing out of place. I made sure I wiped up all the blood from my nosebleed. It gleamed.

Neither of my flatmates have said anything. Not even "It looks tidy in here" or "Smells nice". Instead, the first thing one did was make some toast, directly on the side, leaving the crumbs. Later they both made their tea and got sauce all over the oven, and left it. There are spills and packaging and crap all over the sides. The pots piled up in the bowl with water in them. I almost burst into tears. They're not fair. I'm in agony, my hands are dry and smell of chlorine, I got a fucking nosebleed half way through, and neither of them even acknowledged it.

And here's me feeling really bad about asking one of them if they minded running me and the Pigs to the vet tonight, knowing that they'd had such a long day at work, saying "thanks very much, really appreciate it" when we got back.

The Pigs have conjunctivitus. Albert (the grey one) had it when I got him, and he's given it to George. Nothing that can't be solved with drops (twice a day - they're going to hate me). I'm more worried about the snuffling and head shaking, but the vet was reluctant to give them any antibiotics while they were still eating and running around because they can get bad tummies. He wants to see them again straight away if they get any worse or stop eating. He's such a nice vet, so round and camp, he opened the box and exclaimed about how "bonny!" Albert is and called them both cute. That, to me, means he is a good vet (even if he did have no idea how to sex the gerbils).

So, I'm pissed off with Pets at Home for selling me sick guinea pigs and the manager will be getting a letter and photocopies of the vet bill and receipt. I expect reimbursement. I must've spent nearly a grand at that place over the past couple of years, they can give me my £21 back.

I have such a bad headache. I feel so sick. I want to cry.

I heart you! Have a lovely fluffy day
xxx

I have been very sad with my back, as you know. I could not go see Editors tonight because of it. This makes me sadder.

So, what do I do when I am sad and have just been paid?

Oops

"Hello. I am Albert. I am 9 weeks old. I am very, very small and fluffy. Mummy thinks I might be blind, or maybe deaf, because I have the reactions of a sloth. I like tubes and hay."

"Hello. I am George. I am more timid than Albert, but that's probably because I can actually see and hear mummy coming. I am also 9 weeks old and very small, but I am not fluffy, I am very smooth. I like my bed and stealing things from Albert."

"We are both so cute that mummy couldn't resist us, even though she only went to buy fish food. We now occupy the back room with Super Hans and the Goebbels and Feesh. Please don't tell Soy's mummy and daddy because they will shout SO loud and say things like "You're not allowed pets!" and "Who will feed them if you go away?" and "You can't bring them here, I'm allergic!", but mummy doesn't care because we are just that cute."

Oops again