Bladder Control

People who need to go the toilet during a film, especially at the cinema, are ridiculous. Who can't control themselves and their bladder for between 90 and 180 minutes? Answer: nobody. It is painstakingly paranoid: painanoid.

If these people really do have a problem I am sure they could see their way to going immediately before and after the film, miss the trailers and the credits if you must. Surely you manage to not wet the bed most nights? Which is atleast a 6 hour stretch of no toilet. Therefore, why oh why oh why at the crux of Harry Potter the final film in a series of films which I assume you have been involved in for the last 5-11 years of your life, does your bladder give you the signal? It makes less than any sense to me. The moment old Wee-Wee-Wendy, if that was her real name, excused herself to her husband and pottered (no pun intended) off to relieve herself (urinarily I assume) was a very very VERY crucial moment. She had invested time and money into seeing this film yet her tiny little bladder halted her enjoyment. Not to mention her husband's and everso slightly mine. Good job I'm so easy going...

I realise I am the opposite extreme and incredibly lazy when it comes to weeing. If I could, I would save up and go twice a week. Like I do with the sweetie shop. And yes, thank you for asking, I have given myself cystitis. Twice. And not the sexy kind.  However, people do not need to wee that often. They must just like it. It must be their hobby.What a rubbish hobby.

Fanny

What a brilliant word. I can never imagine it not being funny.

Olden days people called Fanny? Funny
American people calling a bum bag a fanny pack? Funny
Discovering Fanny the Musical from 1954? Funny
Fanny, West Virginia? Funny
Episode of Murder, She Wrote where Jessica falls "...right on her fanny"? Funny
Lesser known Bee Gees song 'Fanny, (Be Tender with My Love)? Funny
Putting fanny into Wikipedia and seeing it written so many times in a serious manner on one page? Really really really funny.

I wonder if willy is the same or whether thats just childish.

Ill Noise

Either my laptop or my stomach just made the longest most grumbly and bad sounding noise. One of us is about to be ill. Very ill by the sounds of it.

I don't know which to plump for. Its like choosing a favourite child. Or between pizza and curry. Or which disease to die from.

Being 27 - Month 2

I have now been 27 for two months and what I have done this month is learned how to properly eat cake mix.

Everybody loves eating cake mix; as a child its a brilliant part of cake-making and as an adult it's one of the top 3 reasons for cake-making. However, the correct amount to consume has always evaded me. Not enough and you are left wanting more and even the sweet, aromatic, oven-fresh cake won't satisfy your craving its like sticking it to a cheap whore when what you really want is your wife back. Too much and you feel so unutterably sick that you can't move for a while, have the food sweats and feel wretched for your careless binging. Like sticking too much to a cheap whore and procuring a nasty itch.


Since being 27, I have learned how to eat it without feeling sick and without feeling cheated. The clue is in the mastication. And it won't send you blind. Cake mix is so smooth and liquid that it is hard to leave it in your mouth for any length of time. You have to resist the immediate swallow every few mouthfuls so that your mouth gets the full pleasure of the mix. I have not counted the amount of spoon/spatula/hand fuls. I can just sense it. Probably because I'm 27.

To recap, thus far since being 27 I have learned how to:

. Month 1: Shave my legs
. Month 2: Eat cake mix

Its like that 'I went to the supermarket and bought....' game. Except it's not an alphabet or supermarket based memory game. Its my actual real-live life.

Don'tcha Wish...

I think I might be a witch. Or an Indian Chief. Or whatever that person in the tribe is called that does the rain dance and conjures rain.

Last week I provocatively danced round the kitchen to 'Don'tcha' brashly inviting men to admit that they in fact wished their girlfriends were (amongst other things) hot, like me. Then Bam: I get asked out. Within the week. Some lovely man not only wishes his girlfriend was hot like me but actually was me.

I feel a bit like I invoked the same brand of power threatened in those chain-letters/blackmail emails where you HAVE to send this to 20 people or you'll never be loved again and it MUST be within 5 minutes or your arm will turn into a swan and you will break your own neck.

I wonder if I should send an email to all the people I know encouraging them to dance and sing to a prophetic song, in the kitchen, at 11pm, on Thursday, and it will happen within a week.

Careful what song you pick though. Nothing that could be taken literally. 'Bleeding Love', 'Heart of Glass' and 'I've got a Luverly Bunch of Coconuts' are out, but I'm thinking of composing a song called something like 'Please Can I Get A Brilliant Acting Job That Pays Me Healthily and Also Please Can My Brilliant New Boyfriend Keep Thinking I'm Brilliant and Hang Around For Quite Some Time'. I think the chorus needs work.

I am a Dribbler

I am a dribbler. I would like to say this is a purely somnolent activity but it isn't. I'm like those dolls who's eyes close when you lay them down. Except I dribble. And have real lady parts.

I have never been horizontal and not dribbled: watching tv on the sofa, after a picnic in the park and most embarrassingly, post-coitally.

The only time this is tricky is when embarking on a new relationship or as I like to call it 'continuing to knock about with a boy you're kissing and really really like'. 'S catchier. I have a quirk quota/ratio of no more than 5 a day and generally 1:3. For example, I use my knee as a piano and make up little songs in my head but have impeccable manners, am good with people and am not annoyingly girly. I also write words in the air with my finger, sit with my arm raised, talk to and answer myself prolifically and have over clicky thumbs.

So as you can see, my quota had been reached before we got to laying down and I have run out of good things to make the ratio work. So I have either had to slurp up my dribble noiselessly or wipe it on my arm without it being noticed. Oddly, I think I've got away with it. Or, he also has impeccable manners.

This morning I found dribble BETWEEN my eyebrows. How is that even possible?

Disney Club

I had to be 15 and 20 in the same day yesterday. I don't mean that in olden day's talk as in 35, I mean 15 was the age of the character and they were seeing people between the ages of 15 and 20. The dilemma arises when you are 7 and 20 (I do mean that in olden day's talk). A full TWELVE years older than the character and subsequently most of the other auditionees. Or as some people said 'almost twice their age'. Some people are dead now.

I had to say I was born in 1991. The 90s! My god-daughter was born in 1991. In 1991 I went with my family to see Jason Donovan in Joseph at the Palladium. A man got caught in the tube doors and I laughed at him so heartily and so hard I had to be turned to face the other way so my spluttering guffaws weren't too obvious. These are the sorts of things I was doing in 1991. Laughing at people's misfortune. Not being born.

I sat with a group of 3 other girls: a 15 year old, 17 year old and 18 year old.  They were gobsmacked that I was 20 and one pointed out how 'grown-up' (her words) that was. I didn't want to blow her mind with my real age. I felt like the Secret Millionaire with no millions or airs. We discussed what we were singing, we'd be told to sing something up-beat and high-energy, someone mentioned Miley Cyrus's song 'Party in the USA' and they all went mad for it. They each gave a song related comment:

1 - My 9 year old sister loves it!
2 - It's on my most played list on my i-pod!
3 - It's such a happy song!

Each of these statements plagued me and here is why:

1 - The boy I'm kissing has a 9 year old daughter.
2 - I don't own an i-pod.
3 - On first hearing this song I found it so insipid I changed the word hips for tits.

I felt bad for poisoning them with the wisdom in my eyes.

Then I did the most old-person thing. Rosey (lovely, sweet, disney, Rosey) couldn't get her name badge to stick and I said "Don't worry, I have a safety pin." I have never had a safety pin in my whole entire life. I also never have a clean tissue or pain killers. I think you are officially grown up when you carry a tissue, a safety pin and pain killers. Like your mum. That's not a mum joke. I'm too old.

Under the Sea

How is it possible to ever be under the sea? In. On. By. Near. Next to. Above. But never, ever, under. Not without alot of digging.

I partly blame Disney. In particular, Howard Ashman, (lyricist on The Little Mermaid) but then the song sounds rubbish with just 'in'.

I think its more fun to be under something than in it although both have their merits: under the bed or in the bed? Its a tough choice.

What about the underground? That is technically both under the ground and in the ground. Is the sea like the ground? In which case you can be under it without any digging. I guess you can be under some of the sea, just not all of it. In which case the song, and subsequent phrase should be 'Under Some Sea'.

This is trickier than I first imagined. Like that game where you have to get the wire thing round the mini-rollercoaster without touching it and making it buzz. Or jigsaw puzzles. Or getting rid of thrush.

Being 27- Month 1

I have decided that in the year in which I am aged 27 I will make every month count. I thought I would enjoy being 27 and to make sure this is the case I would do something positive and enjoyable each month.

I have now been 27 for one month and what I have done this month is learned how to shave my legs.

I've been leg-shaving for years. I reckon 15 of them But it is only now that I can actually do it properly.

The first time I shaved my legs I only shaved the front and up to my knee. About 4 strips worth. Turns out you have to shave all round your legs: backs, tops, sides AND fronts. I got quickly better at it but then plateaued at being an average shaver and always ALWAYS missing a strip. When you ran your hand up/down/over my leg it would be smooth-ish and then you'd encounter a furry patch which would make you quickly withdraw and try to hide the horror on your face usually resulting in a pained smile. Since turning 27, however, I have shaved my legs (with conditioner) most times I'm in the shower and moisturised after. This has meant that my legs are way less hairy in general and when I inevitably miss a strip its not such a problem as there is not enough hair to create fur. Also they are soft, silky and tangle free.

I am looking forward to what month 2 brings.

Groups of People I've Been Annoyed By Today/Idiots - 2

. Boring people on facebook
Today I have been notified that 3 of my friends like: 'Eating'. Are you kidding me? Eating?! Do they also enjoy 'Sitting down' and 'Breathing'. The mind boggles.

Another hateful one: 'If I was meant to be controlled I would of came with a remote control'. This is all kinds of wrong. I'm pretty sure I can't bear the sentiment but nor can I get to it through the sea of dirty grammar and awful use of the English language. Hateful.

Someone else joined: 'Don't fall in love, fall from a bridge it hurts less'. Do us all a favour and fall from that bridge of which you so tenderly speak. I mean, really...

I also hate this brand of status update: 'on my way to work checking in at waterloo station' and then later the same day 'on my way home from work' and the next day 'stressful day at work'. Unbearable. Nobody cares about your work and where you are in relation to it both physically and/or emotionally.

This annoyed me recently too: 'Matt has built a wood shed to keep our wood in ready for the winter. He is quite a handy Andy lol.' LOL?! What on earth is lol-able about that? That is a statement. And not an amusing one. Its pure fact. Facts are rarely lol-able unless they are about the state of someone's ginger-goatee, someone falling over or a dog with wheels.

Dogs with wheels. Now thats something I could happily lol my arse off about. Along with monkeys riding dogs and dogs in clothes standing up. Dogs get me everytime...

Dove is a many splendoured thing

I recently remebered that I had run over a white pigeon.

I also remembered that a white pigeon is a dove and dove's represent love.

Does that mean I have killed love? And if so, who's? Mine? I was test-driving my Dad's car at the time so does that mean I killed his love?

Could be why I am now single and he is having an affair.

Although I am only single-ish and if he's having an affair surely he has too much love. In fact we're both love-abundant: labundant. (Way better than labotomy).

In which case. Maybe we should all kill doves. I am now pro-dove hunting. I'll organise it. It'll be like a mini fox hunt and we can use guinea pigs as the beagles and ride on large dogs. What a sight we'd look charging through Trafalgar Square! Incidentally, I like it when you squeeze guinea pigs and they make that squeak noise. They can be our bugle equivalent.

Speaking of squeezing things, squeezy cheese is never acceptable. Especially the prawn flavour one. I can think of few things worse and they involve bodily waste and would never be spread on my toast either. Conversely, I like the idea of Cheese-Strings. Stringy things fine, squeezy things not fine.

Biscuit-itis

I can't stop eating biscuits. I think it might be medical. I think I have Biscuit-itis.

The symptoms are: having a crumby face, feeling sick and lack of concentration.

I'm not sure I'm funny enough to be fat.

Groups of People I've Been Annoyed By Today/Idiots - 1

. People who don't press the button at the crossing
They were there before you and you may assume that they had pressed the button but no, they haven't. How long would they have waited had you not come along and pressed it? Nobody knows. Possibly forever. These people are idiots.

. People who join the people waiting at the crossing and don't check the button has been pressed
These people are also idiots but it is not their fault as much as the above. However, people who join people waiting at said crossing and don't check the button has been pressed but stand NEXT TO the button, thus preventing anybody else from seeing whether the button has been pressed and creating a general feeling of button-pressed-ness, they are real idiots.

. People who stand really close to you when there is oodles of space
Why so close? Waiting on a train platform the other day a lady stood far too close to me. I could have touched her. But didn't. She was probably an arms-length away. Then a man chose to walk BETWEEN us. There was space either side of us but instead of over-shoot or under-shoot that specific spot for crossing to the other platform, he went between. Idiot.

. People who amble
My least favourite type of ambler is the one on a busy street who bumbles about and takes no notice of the speed of other walkers. They willy nilly wander into your lane and don't check before pulling out. These people are idiots. 

I Suck

I made something big and questionable for lunch in an over-creative ultimately weird way. I ate half but decided it would be best if the dog consumed the rest. He licks his own parts, puts his face in other dogs' bottoms and carries his ball in his mouth even when it has rolled into poo, but would not touch my innovative lunch.

Then I called my grandparents, not seen them for a while and thought we could arrange meeting up. Turns out their social calendar is full for a fortnight and they can next fit me in in August. AUGUST?! I am their only and beloved grand-daughter!They ended the conversation with "no point making plans this far in advance, something may come up."

Then I walked past a 13 year old smugly carrying his newspaper delivery bag and rubbing it in my face that even he has a job.

Snubbed by a dog, shunned by my own grandparents, shamed by a teenager: I suck.

Sponzy

I have always used the word bonk to describe an eye that is a bit puffy/closed/crossed/bloodshot/odd but I think the word sponzy is just as good. I don't think its an actual word but I do think it describes a bonk eye perfectly. Observe:

"Morning, please excuse my sponzy eye"
"Argh, that went right in my eye and now its all sponzy"
"I'm here about my sponzy eye, doctor"

I need a job.

Weather Dressing

I hate being too hot.

If its a really hot day there is nothing that angers me more than seeing someone in a jumper.

The people that keep their jumpers on in the heat are probably the same people who complain about adverts and call the father of their children 'daddy' even when the children aren't there and like Claire Sweeney.

Freckle Census

I thought I'd count my freckles. Like a census. To see if in 1 week, 1 month and 3 months I have more or less.

This is so much trickier than you'd think. I have bazillions. Some of my freckles reside in clumps, gangs and gaggles and I can't see the distinction between each individual freckle so have to guestimate an amount. This relies on there being an average freckle size but I have titchy tiny ones and big ones. 

I am mainly freckly on my cheeks but started to count on my forehead. If you see me from more than a metre away you can't even see the freckles on my forehead yet on the right hand side alone of just my forehead I have 76 freckles. 76!

I am not sure I have enough time even in my unemployed, homeless, single state to count them all. There will be no Freckle Census today.

Note re Baby Names

I feel very strongly about the Baby Names thing however, this does not apply to pet names. In fact, its quite the opposite. Steve the dog, Paul the horse, Kevin the Hamster, Ken the budgie, Brian the goldfish and Barry the cat are all very welcome in my Priministerial territory. I wholeheartedly encourage this. That is the way to honour your ancestors. Name pets after them.

Baby Names

If I were ever prime minister I would set a few ground rules and the first and foremost would be Baby Names. I hate it when people call their child Steve. What baby actually looks like a Steve? Bring me one. Seriously. If you can find me a new born who is absolutely rocking the name Steve, you can call him that. Otherwise, not on your nelly. Same goes for Paul, Kevin, Ken and all those other boring names people insist on perpetuating. I don’t need to list them all (although if I were PM I would. To save confusion.) I do understand that some names have a family tradition but respect your family by being interesting and original or change one letter: Ken to Ben. Paul to Saul. Kevin to Bevin.

I wonder if this would create an underground, renegade Steve-Gang called The Real Steves or something.... Anyway I would rather you called her Wigwamjellyelbow than Pam.

Little bit like Jesus?

I have half the number of followers Jesus did. But I don't call them/you disciples. Thats so AD. And one of his wasn't himself. That aside,does that make me half as good as Jesus?

Mumbles

My Mum puts the mum in mumbles.

Clumsy

I'm very clumsy and I keep wearing shorts. The upshot of this is bruised shins. I'm an idiot.

Being 27

I turned 27 this morning. Here is what Father Birthday brought me:

. Hayfever
. Period
. Melancholy text from the ex

And all before 8am.

I guess that is part of growing up and just goes to show either things can only get better OR life's not a bunch of roses. I have learned something. Or 2 things.

Gladiator Name

I'm pretty sure my Gladiator name would be Chevron.

Every decent gladiator name needs an action. Jet's hair flick was tenuous but sexy. And she did have jet black hair. Which I guess was the point. Chevron lends itself to the action of tips of fingers together and elbows down thus creating a chevron shape. I am not sure whether I would do it atop my head or under my chin. I guess I don't need to decide until I become a gladiator.

Today I did 2 dog walks and 1 swim and it made me very sleepy. I am unlikely to become a gladiator soon.

Heavy Petting

I just went swimming and the sign in the swimming pool that tells you what not to do no longer has Heavy Petting on it. You still can't bomb or dive but there is no sign of heavy petting. When I was younger it was right there for all to see: Heavy Petting with a big red cross through it. Now, nothing. The kids of today are so lucky. Not only do they have mobile phones and dvd players in their rooms they can also heavy pet in the swimming pool. I've a good mind to go and heavy pet in there myself. Offers on a postcard please.

Stripy Cheese

I really like stripy cheese. That Five Counties one. Its brilliant. It has 2 of my favourite things in it: stripes and cheese. I could only like it more if it had a hood. I really like things with hoods. Dresses, tops, children. But not teenage boys. I'm not mad keen on teenage boys. Some might say progress.

Spyders

I don't like spiders. I think they are nosy. Always spying. They just appear and you don't know how long they've been there and they make you jump because you didn't know they were there but they never jump because they knew you were there all along in fact they were watching you. Thats weird.

When you see a spider in the bath, he clearly isn't, wasn't and will never have been having a bath so why is he there? Its suspicious. If it was a person you'd ask questions but because its a spider you accept. I think they were invented by the russians. Code name: Spyder.

When I lament the invention of spiders people say 'if it weren't for spiders we'd have more flies'. I also lament the invention of flies. What exactly is the point in either? I dislike spiders. And flies. Because its their fault. Those pesky russian flies.

Don't trust them. Its a scam.

Incidentally, I recently had a cocktail called a spyder. I say cocktail it was a mocktail and I say mocktail it was just coke and ice cream. What my mum calls an ice-cream float. Delicious though.

Unexpected Behaviour

I just bought something online and as the payment was going through it said 'Do not refresh your browser as this may result in unexpected behaviour.'

I used to work with autistic children and have medically confirmed irritable bowel syndrome (unrelated), you don't need to tell me about unexpected behaviour but I can't see me re-enacting any of that just because I pressed refresh.

If I hadn't really wanted those zoo party tickets I would have refreshed.

Things I Found in My Phone

I like lists and have lots of lists and notes to myself in my phone. Here are some of my favourites:

Wednesday 13th August 2008: I'm wearing too many colours. I can count 7.

Patronising Names: Toots, Love-Muffin, Pigeon, Schnookums, Loveboat, Muffin-Cake, Doll-Face, Candy-Pants, Sweet-Cheeks.

Meaning of Break a Leg: Latter half of 18th Century, Samuel Foote took over the running of the Little Theatre Haymarket (now Theatre Royal). He couldn't get a licence for it as the previous owner had published plays etc against the crown and the King was annoyed. The King's brother heard Foote boasting about how good he was at horse-riding so challenged him to a race the next morning. The Duke bought a horse that'd never been ridden for Foote to ride. He fell off and broke his leg. York felt so bad he granted him the licence. So Break a Leg, technically means misfortune now leads to good fortune in the near future.

Periodic Table: Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Berrylium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Flourine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium, Aluminium, Sillicone, Phosphorous, Sulphur, Chlorine, Argon, Potassium, Calcium, Scandium, Titanium, Vanadium, Chromium, Manganese, Iron, Cobalt, Nickel, Copper, Zinc, Gallium, Germanium, Arsenic, Selenium, Bromine, Krypton, Rubidium, Strontium, Yitrium, Zirconium.

Amusing Hair Salons I've past today: Curl Up & Dry, Hairing Around.

Crows Feet

I am 27 in 9 days. Thats nice. I love a birthday me. That aside, I was speaking to a lady in Matalan (for the record she said it was her birthday tomorrow and I just mentioned it was mine soon. It WAS relevant. I wasn't making it all about me). Matalan Lady (as she will now be known to me but is probably already known as such to her family) asked how old I was going to be and when I told her she was utterly bowled over. I was with my mum and Matalan-Lady even looked to her for confirmation. She was agog and aghast and said "I thought you were going to say 20!" Mum joked to me, "Better than 15" and M-L said "Well no, 15 is a bit young but I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd still been at school". Well! Imagine that. And I had a dress and mascara on. However, since turning 26 not one retail outlet has id'ed me. I put it down to the crows feet but now I am wondering.