Tuesday 14 August 2012

I have a stalker... Suck on that Beyonce

What constitutes having a stalker? Because I think I may have one. How am I supposed to feel?  Am I supposed to be scared or proud? Do I just continue on and ignore it or do I ring the police? But then If I did then what would I say? A man I went on a date with once is texting me. Doesn’t sound that scary. They may just laugh. But I’m not laughing.

I met this guy at a party over a year ago. I chatted to him for a bit about dead people and stuff. I remember not much more of him from that night other than that. He added me as a friend on Facebook soon after and as we had a few mutual friends I thought I would be polite and accept. He wrote to me a few times and asked me out. At first I said no as nicely as possible but eventually I just started ignoring him. He was getting a bit annoying.

Anyway, a year went past and every so often I would hear from him but I still didn’t respond. You can’t deny he was persistent. Then, one fateful week, I ended things with this guy I had been seeing and was feeling a bit poop about the whole male situation. I needed cheering up. And there, over Facebook, was an invitation for drinks. And in my grumpy, emotional state I said yes -  OH GOD WHY DID I SAY YES?!

So we went for drinks. A looker he most certainly was not. Plus men should never ever wear ill fitted, over sized blazers with cartoon covered T-shirts underneath. And he talked. A lot. It was as if he had ADD. He would change from one strange subject to a completely irrelevant other without warning. My brain is a bit slow at the best of times but this was painful trying to keep up. In the end I just gave up trying and got drunk and talked to myself instead. To my relief the night eventually came to a close but as we were saying our goodbyes he literally surprise kissed me. From nowhere and as quick as Usain Bolt his tongue was in my mouth flailing about in every nook and cranny possible as if his life depended on knowing how many fillings I had. Once the shock past I pushed him away, told him to fuck the hell off and ran.

Now, looking back I can’t see how he thinks this date went well. It ended with me shouting profanities at him almost in drunken tears. If that was me I would leave well alone. But No. For the last 2 month I have received on average 3 texts a day. Sometimes it is as if he is having a conversation with himself. For example -

Him - “Morning Kitten, how are you?” (Kitten. Where in arse did he pull that nickname from?!)

Him - “Well I’m having a bit of a shit morning myself. I need some cheering up”

Him - “It would cheer me up if I got to go for lunch with you”

Him - “So I will meet you in Covent Garden station at 2.”

Him -  “I would dress lightly. Looks like a gooden”

Him - “looking forward to seeing you’re sexy arse self”

Me - “Can’t. Sorry. Busy washing my hair”

Him - “Baby I can come and wash it with you”

Me - “Leave me alone”

Him - “I think we should have pizza for lunch. That would cheer us both up”

Him - “Where were you?

Him - “Well when are you free?”

This is just one example. Obviously I have deleted him off Facebook and I temporarily claim back my Christianity to thank god that he doesn’t know where I live. Every time I get a text I am shocked at how mental this guy seems to be. In two months of texting me he seems no closer to getting the hint (even when I spell it out to him and tell him to bugger off and jump in a hole) and he shows no signs of letting off. I don’t know. Maybe I should feel flattered and be proud of the fact I have obvs made it in the world. I have a stalker Beyonce would be dead jeal of. Or maybe I should get the shotgun out in preparation and keep it by my bed. I will be willing to shot him in the kneecaps in self defence. Just saying.

Thursday 26 July 2012

Do you blog anonymously?

I have always wanted to keep this blog anonymous. It was where I could come and write shizzle. Say whatever I wanted without being judged. Somethings just enter my head and I have to get them out. Plus I love writing...

... So what did I go and do. Tell my best friend. Now I've ruined it for myself all because of my lack of ability to keep a secret. I have verbal diarrhea. I can keep other people secrets but never ever ever my own.  I am an over sharer. I even showed it to her. And watched her judging eyes read through it. And now I have ideas for blogs and have even written them but I just can't bring myself to press publish. I just envisage her sitting there, reading it and thinking what a self indulgent twat. She even said, "Aren't you scared nobody is reading it?" And honestly I wasn't. But now I am!!

Now nothing I write is funny enough or interesting enough as I know someone I know is potentially reading it. I have screwed myself over.


Does everyone tell people that they blog? Do they just not care what people think? Where do you get this confidence in what you write? One day I would love to write a book but how could I ever do that if I can't even show my best bud my blog? I wish I didn't care but I just do. I wish I could turn back time and keep schtum. I was having so much bloggering fun until Saturday and now I'm just full of massive insecurities.

Now I am going to force myself to publish this to get back on that proverbial horse otherwise I never will and less then a months blogging is just a little bit pathetic.

Sunday 22 July 2012

All blocked up

Last night I had a friend over and we turned the music up loud, had a few bottles of vodka and a dance off in my sitting room. All the classic songs and dance moves came out. Our mothers would be proud. 
 But now I am tired and my brain and fingers just don't work properly. I have massive bloggers block. I have become illiterate.  

Sooooo I will describe the night with the fabulous use of video and pictures.

We Thought we were dancing like this. 

But we were probably dancing more like this

All because of this

And now I feel like a mixture of this 


Wednesday 18 July 2012

I love my muff!

THIS IS A REAL PRODUCT. I want to work in their head office just so I can answer the phone every day with  - 

"Good morning, I love my muff, How can I help you?" 

I love my muff and I do love it clean but I don't usually have the excuse to tell people. I'm going to apply for a job there right now. Can you imagine the conversations. 

Someone - "So where do you work?"

Me - "I love my muff"

Someone -  "Erm, that's great but that wasn't the question. Who do you work for?" 

Me - " No really, I love my muff" 

Someone - "you're mental!"

I really really love my muff. 

I just love saying it. It's such a good word. muff muff muff muff muff muff. 

Where ever you are say it out loud now. It's so much fun. 

If there is still anyone out there in the world that doesn't know what muff means then read this.

In fact even if you know what a muff is till read it Trust me it's worth it. Go on have a look. It contains the sentence  can range from dainty and tight to floppy and roast beef colored". 

Also on the note of inappropriate female products. You've only got one beaver so look after it. 

You gotta love the Aussies. 

Monday 16 July 2012

Dear 16 year old self. '

I bumped into a girl I used to be BFF’s with when I was 16. We haven’t spoken since then. Even though she was my “best friend” she was a bit of a twat. She made me feel like a crap person. Like I wasn’t cool or funny enough and I’d always try to impress her. There was once a picture of a mutual friend on her wall and I said “wow Hannah looked so good with long hair”. And she said “I know, thats why I convinced her to cut it off”. This just shows what sort of person she was. I just wish I knew that at the time. Seeing her made me think about being 16 and how much I’ve changed. And Then I thought if only I could have told that to myself then.

So I’ve written my 16 year old self a letter and if I ever learn to time travel (because it is just a skill you pick up along the way) I will give this to me. 

Dear Self, 

Right now you’re not a very nice person. Your mother can’t stand you and your father is wondering where he went wrong. You’re selfish and naive and drink far too much (this won’t change). You think you’re the most god damn beautiful girl in the room and all boys want you.. need you... must have you. You think you’re self assured and confident. But you are actually confusing this with a deep uncertainty of who you are and where you are going. So you push yourself to be someone. Loud, abrupt, abrasive and as irritating as thrush. You do this so you are noticed. Love you or hate you, at least you are someone. This will pass.

When you are 25 you may not have a hundred friends like you did before. These will slowly be filtered out or better ones will be found. It will be about quality over quantity. And you won’t believe me now but you’re mum... Our mum... will be the best friend of all time (she's still nutty as fuck though).

You’re a nice person... at least I think you are. You have a good job and you are liked.

One thing you don’t know now is that it’s OK to be alone. You only feel lonely because you don’t have things in common with your friends. Once you move to London you will be with people like you. Who think like you and will be there for you. Having said that you will be alone a lot. But you will like it. Your own company will be your haven.

Now stop being a dickhead. Tell mum you love her. And stop wearing that horrible denim skirt. You look like a tart! Oh and that boy you think you hate in your English class. You actually love him. You will reunite in a few years and have an intense 3 year relationship. He’s not the one. Or at least I hope he’s not. You dump him because he’s a selfish fuck. But that’s another story. But for now and the next few years you love him. And he loves you.

Chin up kid
PCB (that's you that is) x

Here's a copy of 50 shade of Grey. It out sells Harry Potter and is known as mummy porn. Publish it and you'll be moneyed up to your eye balls.

Sunday 15 July 2012

I'm allowed to gush... He doesn't belong to me.

* This isn’t THE toddler... It’s just one I picked up on the internet.

My 4 year old godson Benny was sitting in the driving seat of my car today (looking damn cute and chubby) honking the horn and pretending to steer. Sometimes he comes up with some shit that makes me wonder if he is quite sane. But on this occasion I found him witty and intellectual beyond his years.

Benny - Can I drive, beep beep?

Me - Benny, no you can’t drive the car. Thats for grown ups.

Benny - Can I grow up please?

Me  - Not now, we have to go to Tesco.

Benny - Can I grow up after Tesco?

Me - You are growing baby

Benny- (looks confused) Then I can drive please.

Me - You are growing but you’re not quite a grown up yet.

Benny - Will I be grown up by tomorrow?

Me - Yeah why not

Saturday 14 July 2012

10 things I hate about you

You’re an arrogant arse
You have a stupidly shaped head
You don’t offer to buy me drinks on our dates but suggest buying rounds.
You call your chubbiness “cuddly fun”
When it comes to music you stubbornly won’t listen to anything else but German Electro
You’ve got a stupid posh boy name
You tease me about the silly things I say
You are sooo loud and think everyone should listen to you.
You don’t like comic book films (What sort of man are you?)
You have a GIRLFRIEND!!!!!
You basically just suck

BUT you are so TALL. And hot. And funny. And you make my tummy feel like there's hundreds of bees in there (in a good way). And you look at me in “that way”. I can’t help but like you.


Yes I watched the film last night. It inspired me to write about you. And what?

P.S I'd like you even more if you looked like Heath Ledger. Just sayin.