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?
Drinking?
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?
Or
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 though..you 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.
Phew.
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!

The last note.

So here is the last, promised, piece that I wrote for the novel:

I can remember everything. Is that normal? Is that obsessive? I can remember it all. The first kiss. It was slow, lingering and meaningful. The whole world stopped as I closed my eyes and it hurts too much to admit that I’ll never feel that intoxicated by someone ever again. Never. I’m roaming around looking for an answer, a way out, a way of making me stop wanting him, us. But what happens if I do find the answer? Am I going to grab it with both hands? Or am I going to bury it and pretend I never saw it? Am I trying to convince myself that I’m moving forward whilst I’m looking over my shoulder? Am I? Am I trying to prove to myself that I don’t need him when every part of me wants to run to him because he feels like home?
He makes me feel like a woman and a little girl all at once. The way he looked at me, like I was someone you know? Like I meant something. Can that type of love ever be over? The type of love that makes you weak enough to surrender and strong enough to fight? Can it just be over? Maybe. Or maybe it’s unfinished business. I know I’ll love him for the rest of my life and I’ll never let it go. I’ll never be over him.

So here it is. My last lickle bit of writing. The publisher may well scrap it or alter it but what comes from the heart can never be wrong.

My good deed.

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I’ve finished my stint as guest writer in my friend’s novel. Thoroughly enjoyed the experience which can only be described as heartbreakingly therapeutic. The last piece I wrote is coming your way tonight. I collected quotes for inspiration and these four are now in my scrap book. I’m not sure why but they make me feel closer to whatever it is I’m looking for in life. I also love words. It’s handy I’m an English teacher. Y’know all that ‘enjoy your job’ shit.

Ps…still haven’t been to ANY museums. FML.