A fatal mistake…

Remember poor little fear, our fourth office fish that died in mysterious circumstances a few weeks ago? Well, I’ve just received the following message from my ‘co-carer’ who actually found him on that fatal morning…

How forgiving are you lot?
I think I’ve done something terrible.
Remember Vier (4), the little fat fish that (apparently) died? I don’t think he was dead. I think he’d just over-eaten and was sleeping it off.
So I think I threw one of our very much alive fish out the back door, in nothing more dignified than a plastic cup.
I’m really sorry.

Does this make me an accessory after the fact? Bloody good job we didn’t take him back the the fish shop afterall for the postmortem!

Mental note to self though… never EVER stay at co-carers house after a night on the tiles… god knows where I’d end up

Not the only numpty afterall!

Yay… have finally discovered someone who is just as bad as darling boyf when getting ready in the morning. Though whereas darling boyf phones me to ask for emergency clothes supplies to be brought in from home, poor work pal has to invest in new lingerie just to avoid having a pair of black eyes by the end of the day… bless her!

Men’s mixed messages

Why is it that men can’t just come and and say what they want? Most guys I know say that the female of the species is difficult to understand but honestly, understanding the fairer sex is a walk in the park compaired to getting to grips with the male psyche.

A friend of mine had a few dates with a ’seemingly normal’ guy recently – on the surface he looked pretty sane, he had a good job (he was a copper), no obvious personality defects and hadn’t been smacked with the ugly stick… all good!

Everything was going well, or so she thought- they’d exchanged soppy valentine’s prezzies (well he had – she made a bit of a faux pas by buying him a chocolate heart when he was alergic to chocolate!), had had cosy nights together in front of the tv and seemed to be getting on fine. Then, just like that, the text messages ground to a halt, and when she commented on his sudden silence she got fed the old ‘I’m just not in the right place for a relationship right now’ crap…

Now being a cool and sassy chick, my mate wasn’t overly concerned by this and had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing when, out of the blue, ‘wierdy-cop-boy’ started texting her again… WTF!! Why would he do this, he’s not asked her out or anything, he just keeps sending her bizarre texts about random rubbish and my poor pal doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going!

The latest of these messages was the bizarrest though… its his b’day this weekend and he’s asked her if she wants to go out with him and his mates!!!??? Now this would be quite a big deal if they were actually dating… meeting the boyf’s mates is always a big thing, but what does it mean when you’re not actually in any kind of relationship with the bloke in question? Can you imagine how difficult it could potentially be? And what would happen if he had a really hot mate… would it be a ‘no-no’ to say ’see ya later’ to ‘non-boyf’ and bugger off with his bezzie mate?

Its no wonder there are so many single gals out there when the messages sent out by their male counterparts are so damn difficult to decipher!

The Apprentice… addictive tv?

I’d recorded the first episode of the new series of The Apprentice last week, so last night settled down – with the obligatory large glass of wine - for a relaxing evening of trash tv… OMG!!! within less than 5 minutes I could have happily strangled nearly all this years’ contestants… How, how, how did they manage to find a bunch of such unappealing idiots?

From the girls’ team leader Claire – who compares herself to her pet dog (with pride I might add!) and says that her family call her the rottweiler because of the way she lets nothing stand in her way… nice… (news flash for you hun, when people call you a dog its not usually a compliment!) – to posh boy Nicholas - the one who changed his surname from Brown to de Lacy-Brown because it sounded more sophisticated (!) - I don’t think they could have found a more dislikable group of people.

Of course this does make for a series that is already promising to be just as addictive as in previous years. But really, could they not at least try to include some contestants that you wouldn’t deliberatley cross the street to avoid if you knew them? Of course I understand that the show is edited to show the most ‘explosive’ and therefore entertaining moments but really – there must have been some ‘nice’ people in the thousands that applied… could they not have even included one or two, just to reassure us viewers that not all people who crave a 6-figure salary are complete cretins!

That said, I’m eagerly waiting for tonights episode. The shouting in disbelief at the tv pretty much every time most of the contestants open their mouths is – for me at least – the whole reason for watching

Did the earth move for you too?

So, who else was disturbed by the earthquake last night? According to the beeb this was the biggest earthquake in the UK for nearly 25 years and was felt across quite a bit of England.

I certainly felt it – although at the time I was convinced that darling boyf was actually trying to scare me by shaking the bed! I can remember waking up ‘coz the bed was shaking, and for some reason I was convinced that this was down to boyf playing a mean trick on me. Half asleep and quite shaken (no pun intended) I proceeded to wake boyf up by shouting at him to stop trying to scare me by shaking stuff around.

The fact that he was asleep while I was yelling at him to stop didn’t seem to register! By the time he’d actually woken up and tried to understand what I was going on about, the tremors had stopped so I just got told that I’d probably had a bad dream and to just go back to sleep. Ha! bad dream my arse – I do love being right!

It took me ages to get back off to sleep and so I’m running very behind this morning (I mean even more than normal which is saying something!) … Least I’ve got a valid excuse for once though ”sorry I’m late boss, it was ‘coz of the earthquake”

Proud mama

I learned how to post pictures onto blogs today… Not on my own one of course, I happen to like the simplicity of my site  (actually it’s more to do with the fact that image research is part of my job and I spend enough time doing it at work so I really can’t be bothered doing it for my blog too) … but I managed to load a picture of my beautiful little hobbits – pippin and merry – onto one of my favourite sites (icanhascheezburger) this afternoon and, being such a technophobe, I’m quite proud of myself.

If you want to have a look just click here - pip is the one with his head in the glass by the way… who said he takes after his mama

Oh my god, where’s my arse gone?

OK, that’s not a joke question just to get people’s attention, its a serious query. It was definitely there last night, I saw it briefly as I walked past the bedroom mirror but today its vanished… gone… but where?

It’s really odd… I’ve been on my annual ’january healthy eating’ kick and have felt so much better for it that I’ve carried it on into february, therefore I guess I must be losing weight but how can an arse just be there one day and be gone the next? (Especially when you consider that most of the arses that I know never go away that quietly!)

I noticed the dramatic departure ‘coz I put on my favourite black jeans this morning and they look, and feel, decidedly baggy – especially around my bum – but they fitted just fine two days ago when I last wore them…

I know this is supposed to a good thing as getting in trim was the reason I decided to do the healthy eating thingy anyway but I didn’t really want my bum to go anywhere – it was probably one of the few bits of me that I quite liked and now its gone! I’d actually like the top bits of my arms to go, or a little bit to disappear from my thighs and waist, but my bum, along with my boobs – they should stay where they are!

So, if anyone sees my vanished arse… tell it my favourite jeans and I miss it and please come back. I’ll happily swap it for my tummy

Who stopped the clocks?

Why is it that time always seems to go sooooooooooooooooooo slowly when you are simply desperate for it to whizz by? It’s 4.21 on a friday afternoon and I really cannot be bothered to stay at work until five but something seems to be wrong with my clock, its stopped… in fact I have a horrible suspicion that it may even be going backwards!

Its definitely a friday afternoon phenomenon, the clocks always seem to go at a normal speed for the rest of the week but on friday it all changes… it must be an evil conspiracy by the powers that be to eke that extra bit of time out of us

I’m determined not to start any work this late on in the day. I’ve organised my email (about 10 times) and reckon I can waste at least 10 minutes tidying my desk. Surely this malicious method of stopping the time on a friday afternoon should be banned under employee cruelty…

Man colds – they’re not for girls!

My boss has just sent me probably the funniest video I’ve seen in a long time.

This is just such a perfect example of what wusses men are when it comes to being ill. Don’t get me wrong, when darling boyf actually hurts himself properly – like the time he put his back out and was laid up in bed on painkillers for a week – he’s a proper brave ‘ickle soldier ;-) but when he begins to show sign of suffering ‘the man cold’ its a scene straight out of that video…

Men – don’t ya just love ‘em!

Nightmares for me tonight then…

I’ve just been browsing on the bbc news website and found this article. I’ve always been afraid of clowns ever since I can remember – I even had to scroll down the page to hide the horrible pictures on the site before I could read the article – and now its got me trying to remember what caused me to find a bit of face paint and a red nose quite so scary as a child that I still can’t stomach the sight of them as an adult.

I’ve never actually met a clown so its not from personal experience, and I’ve never watched the film It because I knew it was about clowns… so god knows what it stemmed from.

Its not only clowns though, its masks in general that I find disturbing. Venice with darling boyf was wonderful – apart from all the mask shops that the city is famous for. I’m sure I missed half the sights because I kept shutting my eyes to avoid looking at them! And my friends’ 30th masquerade party was great fun – once everyone stopped wearing the damn masks. Maybe its the fact that you can’t see a person’s true expression when they’re wearing a mask that bothers me… then again maybe its just that clowns are always smiling and something that never gets pee’d off has to be evil right?

One thing I did learn though is that my irrational fear actually has a name ‘coulrophobia’… now that’s one to add to my list of neuroses