Something I promised I wouldn't do...

... is drunken blog.

Yes, in a looooooooong conversation with Ollie I promised I would never blog when drunk.

Well. I gave in. It's 1:19 in the morning, I've had a couple of cheeky vimtos (port and WKD blue in case you didn't know) and hey, I've decided to blog.

The lovely Edward, other half of the fabulous Milla, sent me something off my wishlist - the Scouting for Girls album. I do like it but...

1. The first song sounds likes the words and the backing track are from completely different songs.

2. All the rest of the songs are from the "repeat the words over and over again and maybe someone will like it" school. Great for people like N who can't remember any words but not so good for me who knows all the words to EVERY SONG EVER MADE.

It's alright - not a patch on Jonny Cash though.

Thank you Edward - appreciated.

What if...

I tend to use the time I'm in the car to think. It's a good a place as any. It's warm, it's comfortable and more often than not, I'm on my own. Just recently, I've noticed that the things I think about aren't exactly... normal.

I think about the best things that could happen, I think about the worst things that could happen. I think about myself and about other people. I have scenarios planned out. I have dialogue. Am I going mad?!

What would happen if I got sacked?
Where would I live?
Would N stay with me?
What would I do if we broke up?
How would it feel if my parents died?
Would I know who to turn to?
Would they know what to do?
Am I doing the right thing with my life?
Should I jack it all in, move and do something else?
Do my friends really like me?
Am I good at my job or do I just think I am?
When I look at someone on the street and think to myself, oh my god, I'm glad I'm not as fat as her... am I actually as fat as her and I just don't realise it?
How do other people see me?
Will I age gracefully?
Will I ever have the life I want?
What would my ideal house be like?
Can you imagine living with N for the rest of your life?
What would you do if you suddenly came into money?
What are you doing with your life?

I think I need to stop thinking and start doing!

Respite

The cold wind whips the cobwebs tangled in my brain.

A head rush from the hastly snatched cigarette.

An aching body from Sunday's exertions.

It's been a bit of a strange weekend but I think we've sorted it out. It's not something he can just get over. But we're talking about it.

And I'm grateful it's not me making him feel like this.

*no title*

It comes on suddenly. I never know where from. I don't know what triggers it. All I know is that it changes you. You become someone from a different place. I can't talk to you. You can't look at me. Your words hurt me. I cry inside. I know you don't mean it and I know you can't help it.

I want to help you but don't know where to start.

Pah! Kids today...don't know they're born

"In my day we used to walk to school, 15 miles in the snow, barefoot and with an anvil strapped to our back."

We've been suffering from server problems at work for the last couple of days. No email. No internet. No nothing. (No email days are obviously not a new thing but I don't think I've heard of many companies that have them here in the UK? On purpose at least.)

As I'm sitting on the edge of my desk thinking about getting something done which doesn't involve technology the age-old question popped into my head "how did we manage without computers?".

I started blogging (and therefore was first really aware of the wonderful world of the world wide web) when I was...er... maybe 18 and I remember that I got my first computer (Commodore 64 if you must know) when I must have been about 6. That means that for nearly 20 years, people have have easy access to some form of computer. That scares me.

Do you think life BC (before computers) was less frantic, less stressful, more interactive? It's so easy nowadays to ping off a quick email to someone you've never met and work on a project together without even talking to each other. Blackberries and mobiles mean my boss has access to me all day, every day (that is if I didn't turn the damn thing off).

Just for one day I'd like to spend the time without a computer, without a phone, without the television and just have a bit of peace and quiet. I could actually... talk to someone... finish reading that damn book I started ages ago...

Of course, knowing my luck, the day I choose to be incommunicado will be the day that Rupert Penry-Jones dumps his exceptionally beautiful and lovely wife and puts out an all-broadcast plea for me to whisk him away into the sunset.

The attack of the killer ducks

Look, I know they don't look that vicious and it's also true that some (well most) aren't actually facing me but believe me when I say that these ducks were after me.

With their slightly rounded beaks and flappy feet they were formidable opponents indeed. I did what every sane person would do in my situation, I hid behind N.

And how to I come to be in the path of these blood-thirsty (surely bread-thirsty - ed) anatidaes? We took a road trip to Summmerrrrzet. It was N's birthday so, in a fit of "I'm a lovely girlfriend"-ness, I booked a night in a little hotel and bought some front row tickets to see his favourite band. Hell, any excuse to drink zzzider and talk with a funny accent.

In other thrilling news, I am hungover, again. When I say "hungover" what I really mean is that a very small person did, with malicious forethought, creep into my room and stuff cotton wool into my brain, through my exposed ear. There is nothing else that could account for this fuzzy and full feeling in my head. I very much doubt that it was the cocktail of port, champagne, gin and lager I had last night.

A grumble

You will allow me a little moan on this Friday morning.

I'm a tad hungover and I just feel like it, ok?

Now, when I pay nearly £500 for a ticket home there are a couple of things I expect...

a) a ticket
b) a drink once on board
c) something to help me while away the 8 hour flight.

Sadly when I booked a seat on "Has not known love in the Biblical sense" Airlines* I was not afforded any of these luxuries.

a) a ticket - took 2 months and 15 irate calls to customer services for them to send me through an e-ticket. Despite a confimation email saying it would take no longer than 72 hours.

b) a drink once on board - oh, don't get me wrong, you're allowed a drink. A soft drink. Order anything more and you immediately become the spawn of Satan. A lush. A drunkard. Someone that can't be trusted with a bottle of lighter fluid. They've even added their "thou shalt not drink" to the pre-flight spiel. "Welcome aboard this Goody Two Shoes* flight to Jomo Kenyatta airport, Nairobi. The emergency exits are here, here and here and by the way, if you drink alcohol on board you'll be pushed through one faster than you can say 'gin and tonic'. Have a nice flight." Bastards.

c) something to help me while away the 8 hour flight - my biggest whinge. I don't think I'm asking too much to expect a personal tv, even in economy. I think I could even demand that it showed decent films, at a time that suited me, and I wouldn't be pushing it. On Sanctimonious Airlines* however, what you actually get is a 3.5 inch screen (so, slightly bigger than a Blackberry) which shows 5 different (and rubbish) channels *at the same time*. Therefore, once your film has finished, you then have to wait another hour before all the other channels are finished before you can watch anything else. In the end I had to resort to poking the person in front of me with various implements to see if I could wake them up.

*possibly not its real name

Fishing for compliments

I seem to be lapsing into a state where I don't even bother to write my own posts anymore. What can I say, I'm not a writer, there are people out there who write things much more eloquently than I can.

Kenya: a quick update

Email from my mother:

Things seem to be going from bad to worse at the moment here - Nakuru and Naivasha a blood bath over the weekend. Just cannot see an end to it all. It is now beyond political violence it is more like ethnic cleansing.

Considering this is my mother speaking (generally a positive, "things will be alright in the end, everything happens for a reason" kind of gal") it seems things in Kenya are a lot worse that is being reported over here.

I think I'll leave the analysis to the people on the ground.

More Kenya bits 'n' bobs

A short one today, and not even written by me.

Came across this article. I think it succinctly sums up the problems in Kenya at the moment with its last line "It is ripping the country apart."

I'm tired and I'm stressing. I'm worrying and I'm angry. I'm confused and I'm a little scared.

I'm sure I'll get over it though.

The problems continue.

Latest text from my mother: Have been out fighting for food for all the staff. John the day askari [secruity guard] had his house burnt down this morning so am trying to get him and family to a safer place. No food, no fuel and all pretty awful. Things will get worse tomorrow with planned march by millions on nairobi. Police on shoot to kill. Not looking good at all.

In other news, N, a friend and I are in the planning stages of a Cape to Cairo type expedition. Exactly the same except some minor details - we won't be going by train and we won't be going to Cairo. Anyone know a good Toyota dealer?

A belated Happy Christmas to all. Things are a little hectic at the moment. Am thinking about Kenya and trying not to worry too much.

The parents are safe but wisely staying in. Watch this space...

Miss Cow had a semi-liquid lunch.

As such, am feeling a bit squiffy and so probably won't post until sober once more.

My my, who would have thought.

I am here. I am writing. I am still alive.

Several months have passed, I realise. Several million things have happened in that time. I suppose I might have to update.

1. I've moved into a new house, in a new part of town, with the old boyfriend(old in the sense of time, not age - he'd not be too happy if I spread rumours about his geriatric credentials). One day I might put some pictures up of the new abode. Chez nutty is very much a des-res (mainly because it's about 2 mins walk from our local) but it has a slight problem with its heating. It doesn't have any.

2. I have a new job (hoorah!) The old job was just getting a bit too much to be honest. Lack of money, too much responsibility, no respect. Pah - there's only so long you can deal with that grinding you down every day. So in the end, I decided to go. Great decision. I now work for "Big multi-national company". Sooo different to the last place. We get free coffee here. The strange thing is, since HQ is abroad (and all the internet servers are therefore routed abroad) I'm currently trying to blog in a German blogger. Makes saving posts/adding pictures/knowing what the hell I'm supposed to be doing a little difficult.

3. Dammit. They're making me work!

The times they are a changin'

But I can't say too much about it though yet, so I won't.

Hope you don't mind too much :)

I've had a headache now for three days.

I'm also re-writing my CV.

Does this tell you how the promotion is going?

I know it's tapping in horribly to the current zeitgeist but please can I just make it completely public how much I hate Valentine's day. And no, not for the normal reasons of it's too commercial and we should love each other no matter what day it is bollocks.

No, I hate Valentine's day because, if I don't get anything, I get grumpy.

Like now.

Grr.

me: I have no odd quirks whatsoever
her: yes, dear, you go on believing that. We'll just point and laugh
me: you're metaphorically patting me on the head, aren't you?
her: maybe...

I might have been lying. I am sure that somewhere underneath this very complex (yet stunningly beautiful) being that there are elements of weirdness. I just can't think of any.

I mean, come on, I had a happy childhood, my parents are still together, I don't have an axe murderer for a boyfriend (although this is yet to be proved. Another day with me might turn him, you never know).

I am moderately intelligent (despite the bad spelling) I got a solid drinking degree. I am of average height, average (ish) weight, brown hair, brown eyes. The only distinguishing feature is a scar on my arm where I had an injection.

When people met me, what do they think? Do they remember me or am I instantly forgettable? I think it's probably the latter. This is a very odd position to find myself in.

I have friends who, no matter what the subject, they can have something amusing and witty to say or write about it. Me? I struggle to pull a sentence together. (and yet I'm the one who insists on blogging. Oh the irony)

Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if someone else lived it for you?

Gosh, this has turned into a hate-fest that I never expected it to...

Now I'm a manager, I'm far too busy and important to blog.