Hottie stalker time.

“Hey hottie”
Takes me a good thirty seconds to realise ‘hottie’ was me.
“Oh sorry, hello”
“So, do you come here often?”
Didn’t start off well really did it. I mean that’s the scraping of the barrel.
“Erm no I don’t actually, this is my first time here”
“I can tell, you’re very unsure of yourself in here aren’t you? I’ve watched you since you walked in”
Great. Fucking great. Why do I always end up with the weirdo?
“Oh, do you often watch girls?”
Valid question. Good to know from the off.
“Oh no. You’re just an acception”
I laughed. Not in a nervous girlie way but in a “for fuck sake get me away from this guy” way.
“So what do you do for a living?”
“I’m an English teacher”
“Ooooo going to tell me off if I’m a bad boy? Give me a detention? Just me and you?”

Erm. I’m still not sure how to react to that. Even at the time I gave him a ‘awww bless you’ve just blown it’ frown and walked off. But still, no verbal reaction. I don’t know whether that’s because I’m shocked, disgusted or numb.

I’m really tired of it all. I’m not a temperature. I’m not a dirty stripper teacher. I don’t like stalkers. And I don’t like cheesy chat up lines. Fuck off.

I’d like a normal guy or in other words…I’m going to be single for a very long time.

Come and play my game!

It’s Saturday night. I’m currently sitting with some maltesers and a takeaway. However, in my head I’m playing the sexual innuendo game, where you take everything someone says in a sexual way.

So far:

“I knew it was going to be too big when I felt it”
“Maybe if I rubbed it”
“Her over the road trimming her bush this morning…”

I’m having so much fun right now.
Laughing and trying to hold it in like a naughty school girl.
Going out?
Naaaa I’d much rather play this game.

Mannequin killer.

Have you ever been in a clothes shop and you’ve turned around so quickly that you’ve knocked a mannequin over?

I did.

Have you then apologised to this mannequin and their dismembered arm laying on the floor?

I did.

I did try to put it back on but managed to put it on backwards so it looked like it was doing a strange ‘Dad Dance’.

I’m so glad it’s Friday.

5 annoyances

Things that have annoyed me today:

1. Packets of crisps that are only half full. Don’t give me “at least you’re saving some calories” shit. I want crisps. I want the calories. I want the whole deal.

2. When you want to get a baby wipe out of a packet and you end up pulling out four all at once. This isn’t some like wipe orgy jeeeez guys I’m a one at a time girl I’ll have you know.

3. People who do not indicate when they’re driving. What am I some bloody mind reader? Right or left you moron? GET OUT OF THE ROAD!

4. Ordering a drink and realising the restaurant has decided to chuck an iceberg in it to avoid giving you the diet coke you paid for.

5. Cyclists who weave in and out of moving cars and then decide the big red light isn’t for them. The big fucking white light will be..

You’ve got know idea how much better I feel right now.

“I’m a survivor…”

Have you ever seen something on a social networking site that made you feel a mixture of anger and hurt?

Have you then also seen this shit, played Destiny Child’s ‘Survivor’ 9 times and then blocked them via every social networking route?

I just did.

I’m nothing and no one special but I don’t have to put up with that. I’m standing my ground, being all feminist and shit and saying no.

How are we all?
I feel like I want to talk to you all to give me a little comfort in my hour of social media blockage need.

I’m a giver.

Friend: “If I was in your situation what would you tell me to do?”
Me: “I’d tell you to walk away”
Friend: “Well then…”

It’s so damn easy to dish out the advice like I’m in some kind of mass produced fast food restaurant. “Order 201 here is your meal of ‘he’s obviously moved on’ with a side helping of ‘have enough respect for yourself to walk away, it’s his loss’. Enjoy your day, if you need anymore fish the sea is over to your right”. Advice is better given than received. It always tastes sour, off, especially when you know they’re right. EEEEEUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH *SPITS OUT THE “YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER” SPEECH*

Take mine.
I won’t take yours.
Nothing personal.
I’m more of a giver than a receiver.
You dirty minded lot. There’s a time and place for that shit guys, grow up.

Love you..

Questionable questions.

Are we afraid of being without them?
Are we afraid of being alone?

That’s the question.

On a lighter note I was just writing a text message that included ‘I’ll do’ in it and just because I forgot to add one little space between those two words, my phone spelt ‘dildo’. Dirty fucker. It’s too late for that shit.

Luck, problems and a possible sex change.

I create my own luck.
I create my own problems too.

If only I was a man and couldn’t multitask. I think I’d love my life a bit more. I’d also never have to push anything out of my unmentionables and never admit that I’m wrong. Of course I’m being stereotypical here, not with regards to the labour thing really can’t do that. Just incase you didn’t know.

Monday night issues.

That’s the problem with wearing a giant baby grow, you have to time toilet breaks perfectly. You almost need to know you’ll need the toilet before your bladder does. Three minutes ago I was doing the toilet dance across my landing. For those of you that aren’t familiar with this, this is a dance that consists of: crouching, the crossing of legs, hopping, occasional jumping and galloping. Bit of ‘ooooooo’ing and ‘bloody hell’ing too but that’s optional.
I thought it was too late.
I thought it was game over.
Turns out I made it.
My first thought was ”I must buy a onesie with a zip for easier access”. It should’ve been “stop wearing giant baby clothes, act your age and wear normal pjs you idiot”. Naa screw that, eBay do rabbit onesies! With zips! Get in!