Ho hum.

Hey hows things?

What's that number? I don't know that number.

Oh, yes I do. Steph.

It's freaky, I don't think about her (much) for months, and yesterday I spent a while wondering if she has ever looked me up on Facebook (I've not looked for her) and whether she still has my number and thinks about me.

Evidently she does on the last two points...

So have I burst into tears like the last time she text me, which was, I think, November? Have I run up to the toilet to be sick and hoped nobody at work noticed? Am I worrying about what to say, how to say it, when to say it? No, I am not. Well, only a little bit. But I'm not finding it hard to breathe like I normally would.

Yeah I'm good thanks, yourself?

Ok this may not sound like a big deal, but I still have her stuff in the back of my cupboard, I still have every present and card she bought me stored at a friend's flat, and I'm not freaking out at a text message.

Well, I'm quite proud of me anyway.

I finish the last post, including waffle about refusing to move out of my current flat at the end of the tenancy, and then recieve a text telling me the landlord is coming around tomorrow with a man from the bank to value the flat.

Great.

Guess I have an evening of pet-hiding ahead of me:

Gerbs are going in the wardrobe, along with a hamster, space permitting.
The other hamster...well he'll just have to get over that.
The big goldfish will be going in a pond in a month. That's the idea anyway, technically not a lie.
The baby fish...well, not my fault they had babies is it?
The minnows...well they can get over those too.

Oh, not to mention the fact this could mean we get bloody ousted out of the flat.

Stress levels...entering...red zone...

Do not want

Our impending office move was never going to be a joyful occasion, mainly due to the thrilling key words 'amalgamation of services', words which strike fear into the heart of this radio-listening, lunch-at-desk-eating, swearing-like-a-binman office worker. However, this move will take place on 11 June whether we like it or not and before that there is a mountain of shredding to do, and there are boxes to PACK. Anybody who has an inkling of what I'm like knows how much I loathe packing. I hate it. I hate it to the point that I am refusing to move out of my current flat in August. I have too much stuff to pack and unpack, and too many fish to move, to warrant a saving of £50 a month on a cheaper one. I don't care how stupid that makes me, so don't tell me.

I digress.

We are getting a student to work for us! *Dances a happy, packing-chore-free jig*. Oh the relief! A whole summer of telling asking someone to do things for me! I've never had a pleb of my own before, it's usually the other way around. How thrilling. Even bigger bonus, she seems really nice. Huzzah.

She'll probably have a very easy time with me though, as knowing how much I hate being asked to do things I'll likely ask nothing more tasking of her than retrieving the biscuit tin when it is a few inches out of my reach.

This man is clearly a mind reader, right down the waking dreams of candy floss

Bollocks to Health and Safety

Muse have revealed that they are planning to land UFOs on the audience's heads at the V Festival.

Singer Matt Bellamy said the group wanted to spend their appearance fee on creating an extra-terrestrial themed show.

He told NME: "With V, they pay ridiculous fees, so it's a chance to spend the money on big UFOs that land on the crowd's heads."

...let's have a pretty picture too.

Excited, much?!

Post subtitle? Summary?! It's hard enough thinking of a bloody title! Oh the PRESSURE!

Well, here I am at work, on an ordinary working day - SO unfair! Hmph.

It's freezing and raining. For my personal health I should by rights be wrapped in my quilt, listening to the rain on the window. I am getting a bit of a sniffle. It might lead to more Mondays off (what a tragedy).

Other than all that, I am in a semi-good mood, although I could do with a nice warming hug everytime the bastard phone rings, just to keep that fuzzy feeling going. I think I might even try to be nice to people today!(Ok, I couldn't even keep a straight face while I said that so maybe not.)

Well, wasn't that interesting I do apologise.

No, please, no! I don't want to go! Don't make me go! I don't want to go to wo-o-o-ork tomorrow! *sob*

What ailment can I develop overnight?

Measles. Measles would work. That would mean a long time off.

...Can people still get measles? I guess I would have had to catch it from someone...

Scabies.

Kidney infection.

Maybe I could fall down the stairs...

I reeeeally don't want to go, can you tell?

*sets alarm with a BIIIG sigh*

I've done an awful lot of sleeping, which is nice. I've had an awful lot of wine, which was also nice. I've seen Indiana Jones, and it was very, very good indeed, and Harrison Ford still has it and he is still hot as far as I'm concerned (despite the later horror of learning that he is 65 and indeed old enough to be my grandad. Paging Dr Freud...).

Today I should be in Lincoln with my flatmates. I did want to go but all morning I've felt abysmal due to issues of the female persuasion. So I haven't gone with them, in favour of dying on my bed. Along with the standard stabbing pains, I'm so bloated I feel like I'm wearing a ring of footballs round my waist. I've had two cups of peppermint tea and still feel very nauseous so I might try the nettle next. I'm weepy and rubbish. I would not be good for Lincoln today. I'm only good for pyjamas and attempting to tidy my room. I wish I had someone to rub my back on command. I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow in time for work (*sob*).

The next hour or so I will be reclining on my bed watching a 60s version of The Lost World. There has so far been some excellent shots of lizards walking through tiny fake trees.

Alas. I just spilt my tea on my foot and bed. It is hot and I look like I've wet myself. I should probably move. *save*.

...hic...hic...hic...

(Apologies. I can't speak, because I'm hiccuping. I have been hiccuping for 27 minutes. I'm starting to hurt and there is a very real danger that I'm going to see my enchiladas again.)

...hic...hic...hic...

(Still...joint last position in Eurovision...not bad going really. I still think it would be better to have Terry Wogan as our entry, but nobody listens to me.)

...hic...hic...

(Screw this, I'm off to bed.)

...that I shan't bore you all with, primarily because it involves genealogy, which was, hither to this moment, a previously undisclosed and incredible geeky interest/affliction of mine.

The truth is, people, I have just right now, this moment, discovered the following:

Once upon a time, in the 1800s, a Mr John Rice and his brother Mr Bernard Rice from Sligo, Ireland, settled in Louth, near Grimsby. Mr and Mr Rice are in the 1851 Census as 'Hawker/Traveller'.

Mr Bernard Rice decided to marry one Miss Martha Powell, of Cosey, Ireland, who had also decided to settle in Louth, near Grimsby.

They procreated a number of times and one of their girl-brats married. These two eventually procreated, and so the process was repeated, eventually producing my grandad, my mother, and me.

I can deal with this. The question is, folks...how do I tell my mother - who considers laminate flooring to be the floor covering of choice for chavs - that she's an Irish gypo?

(Incidentally, there's also a fair deal of Norfolk, Kentish and Geordie inbreeding in the mix too. *gurns*)

Friday. FRIDAY. Ho yus. No plans for the weekend, as usual, but hey, I get to sleep through a legitimate Monday off (ha!) which pleases me greatly.

But I will be bored. I would welcome entertainment. Ho hum. May have to indulge in a solitary Eurovision drinking session. There may also be crisps. CRISPS! I love crisps.

(Today is going to go slowly.)

You might not be able to contain yourselves. Your heads may blow up with the sheer enormity of what I'm about to tell you. But here goes anyway.

My big A4 notepad that I favour for doodling writing down Very Important Things ran out! I immediately ordered some more. They arrived, and when I looked for a place to put them, I found a stack of A4 notepads, so I have just wasted £0.52 of the budget.

I know.

It's mind blowing stuff.

Maybe I'll pay that overdue phone bill...maybe I'll stare out the window...too many choices today!

The past two days I've been incredibly stressed out at work, and not had enough limbs or brains to do everything required of me.

Today I'm bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. Either that, or I've completely forgotten what it is I do again, and there is something important hovering over my head, waiting to shit on me. Such is life.

Still, there's always biscuits.

Goldfish babies are three months old now and growing, growing, growing. Well actually some are decidedly stunted and aren't getting anywhere, so I think I'll be doing away with those and sending them to the big pond in the sky. Sniff sniff. For the greater good of the others...

Dire quality, cameraphone, but looky, they getting biggy

I think I've seen Brokeback Mountain five times now. But still, always the same:

*sob*

Hmm.

*cries a bit more*

I don't think this is all from the film...I don't know what it is. I don't like it but I can't help it.

It's not a good time to talk right now. Please call back later or leave your message after the expletive.

%&*£!

1) I have been uber productive this afternoon

2) I have had 2 bottles of lucozade and a mars bar

3) I think the first two points are related

4) I think I'm high

5) *crash*

Yesterday I spent most of the afternoon with my feet in a plastic bag because I had stupid summery shoes on.

Today I have my trainers on, jeans, and a long sleeved top, but this now means the cold is concentrated to my fingertips.

Thus, I need to sit on my hands for the rest of the day as they are struggling to function. Typing will be impossible. Apart from this announcement.

...whoever just tagged me and a few others as 'troll', because it's amused me.

What kind of insult is that?! You're laa-aa-aame!

I'm sat with my feet in a plastic bag muttering accio trainers under my breath. Stupid summer shoes. Stupid cold summer. Stupid stupid stupid!

...but for some reason I've been far more productive than any other day so far this week (yes - both of them).

I have just devoured an entire cow and potato field though, so I fully expect a slump to hit me in an hour or so, whereupon I will be capable only of grunting and daydreaming. Alas.

Speaking of humping, I was extremely pleased to see Gordon Effing-Sexy-as-Eff Ramsey back on TV last night. Toe-curlingly pleased. Woof.
The monkfish was pretty hot too.

Hmm...more on the humping theme, let me think...

A-ha. I bought Goebbels the Gerbils a different cage last night. They celebrated this by flicking half the sawdust out onto the floor and humping each other a bit. Simple pleasures for simple creatures. (I was ecstatic to realise that Pets at Home now have an online shopping site. The more I think about it, the more I realise that it would be entirely possible for me to exist without ever leaving the house again.)

Hurrah. It is almost 2pm. I enjoy Steve Wright too much to work and listen at the same time.

In the two hours I've been at work, I have:

Written not 1, not 2, but 3 different to-do lists, categorised by subject and importance.

Tidied my desk, stacking the post-it note blocks into piles according to size.

Gone through all the answering machine messages just to double check I did write them all down. I may call them back in an even slower moment than now.

Arranged all the papers into piles and stacked them up according to their order on the to-do list(s) to work through at a steady pace.

Googled 'procrastination'.

Googled 'how to procrastinate'.

Followed some tips I found.

Gone through my email inbox.

Drank 3 bottles of water and got through 5 pieces of chewing gum. (Now 6.)

Written a pros and cons list for going home at lunch time instead of buying a manky sandwich.

Assessed the sky at regular intervals to check for impending rainclouds.

Checked all the email inboxes again.

Sighed.

Opened Word.

Blinked a lot.

Sighed some more.

Written two sentences of minutes from a meeting last Thursday.

God, I'm exhausted.

Running away from a curious bumble bee this afternoon has left my mother with two broken ribs and three broken toes.

Totally worth it, obviously, what with them being wing'ed beasts of fur and doom.

"Are you ok, mum?"
"Yes love, I just...Oh, I really hurt!"
"Well yes I'm sure you do, make sure you rest, ok?"
"Not in the garden though, in case I have to run away from another bee"
"Mother, it's just a BEE!"
"THEY BITE!"

...sucks.

I have a to-do list that has stuff on it that needed doing a month ago. I can't believe I've managed to get a month behind. I need time-freezing superpowers, or drugs, or both.

And it's SO LOVELY out there. It's not too hot. It's just right for sitting under a tree or brolly with a book and/or a barrel of wine.

A slow day today...

Didn't get up until about 11am, sans hangover, HA! Late sleep-in can be attributed to a 1.30am phone call from a pirate who was being particularly smutty. I don't know who he was or how he got my number, but it was funny.

Ate birthday cake.

Tidied my room a bit, did some washing, put away the £250 worth of clothes I bought yesterday (after packing away all my jumpers in order to actually make some room )

Just as I was about to hang my knickers out to dry (oo-er) that bloody pirate rang again and had the audacity to hang up on me at one point! The rudeness!

For the next 3 hours after that I did relatively little, except make a hot curry and drink more wine and wait in heated anticipation for Indiana Jones to come on...(Which he now is. Phwoooooooar!)

Work? What? Monday? *Denial* *glugglugglug*

Thank you all for my birthday messages! I had so many! I would reply to them all but I'm totally fucked.

Sorry, sorry, language. Drunk. I/m drjunk.

Really. Veryt.

Had a lot to wine drink.

I have had a lot to drink.

AND I had LEMON CAKE made by C and it was LOVELY and NOM NOM NOM NOM!

I am 24. THis makes me oldish. And, AND. I#m going to bed BEFORE MIDNIGHT.

BECAUSE IM FUCKED.

AND REALLY VERY HOT.

I'd open the window but is hard to do when cant move.

Super Hans is 17 months old today too! He had a cake crumb and loveed it so much.

I would have liked some hugs off certain folks this weeked I hope you all had fun.

I. am going to sleep now.

I troubles me that I feel very sick for the simple reason that i had very garlicky chicken and DO NOT WISH TO SEE AGAIN!

Christ my headaches kickin in already.

YAY BIRYHDATY/

CXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I have declared to all concerned that I am going home. Hurrah. I have to straighten my hair. Good a reason as any I reckon.

Work have got me yummy chocolates and something else wrapped up that I can't open because it's MY BIRTHDAY TOMORROW. Yayness. YAY. I was going to go shopping this aftrnoon but it's too hot to hit the school-bus crowds, may put it on the agenda for tomorrow. Also going to the Deep. Fish. Yay.

I think I will have a nice day =)

I hope everyone who meets up Saturday in Larndon has a lovely time. Wish I could be there too but cirumstances make that rather tricky.

(No drunken calls...)

Also, you should go and see Iron Man. *Noms arrogant and damn sexy robot man thing*. It's good.

Do this.

Apparently I'm Brazilian...well I've had a lady of that nationality so maybe I picked something up

The woman's voice cracks me up.

Hometime

First one to make me laugh wins an as-yet-undisclosed prize.

Please.

I have to go sit in some silly committee this morning and attempt to siphon the relevant drivel out for minute taking purposes. I'm not looking forward to this.

Furthermore, I'm not wearing jeans and trainers today in favour of linen trousers and actual shoes, and I feel...well, I feel dressed for work. I don't like it.

And, even worse, Loco in Acapulco is playing on the radio at the moment. Chances of me being able to get it out of my head in order to actually pay attention? I'd say 'nil', but that might be being optimistic.

Lovely hot day again though

Moan over. For now.

May your day be full of cake in sensibly-balanced-diet guises.

xxx

(I apologise for that truly awful title)

I have a rash on my right foot. I have had it for months.

It appears in two places - on the left side just below my ankle, and also on the top of my foor near my toes, but not in the toe creases. Just flat areas of skin.

It's speckly. Red, and quite densely packed speckles.

It is perfectly smooth. It does not it not itch. It does not flake. It does not disappear when I press it. It does not get worse in the heat. It is not altered after a shower. It is in no way different to the rest of my foot, except for the red speckling.

Antihistamine or any other medicated skin creams make no difference. I am not allergic to my shoes. I have not changed my wash powder. I have not used any different products. I certainly wouldn't just use them on one foot anyway.

I have not insulted my foot. I haven't mocked it or even gently teased it in anyway. It is not blushing.

According to an online rash diagnostic tool device thing, I have either Syphilis, or Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.

I think I'm growing quite attached to it.