Ranting in the Mirror, Call A Doctor

I have been watching the weather with renewed vigor dear blogger. Indeed something has peaked my interest. It is not the brightly coloured macs of the bint on BBC breakfast news, it is not the man tan of the bloke on ITV NOOOOOOOOOO something far far more quizical has me glued to my seat.
SEVERE WEATHER WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Since this system has come into place I have found the weather AWESOME!!!!!!

Instead of the weatherman baffling me with terms like Gale force 4 and 10 millimeters of rain, I KNOW that its gonna be a bitch of a day because the sirens roar. (As the SUN news prints its end of the world headlines) But Bruce Willis, blood stains smeared across his shirt, gun holstered on his hip, his eyes wild, emerges from the Met Office to announce that it is a SEVERE WEATHER WARNING FOR MY AREA.

Its like Bingo, I can cross them off my score card. Get Flooding and High Winds and you get a free t shirt!!!!!
I'd like to see Michael Fish say there was no bloody hurricane now. There'd be High Winds Weather Warnings spralled across his map before the fateful phrase could leave his lips.
The stupid thing is that REALLY, the severe weather warnings aren't that severe....not really.
Today my region has had one for High Winds, Rain and general stormyness. I was expecting my walk home to be similar to that of Winnie the Poo on a Blustery Day. I was expecting to wade through meters of water. Hell I at LEAST wanted a dingy. Instead I got messy hair and a few shitty spots of rain. High winds my arse, my umbrella (which I didn't really need to put up, I only did because it was new and DAMN IT WE'VE GOT A WEATHER WARNING) didn't even turn inside out.
Okay I'm sure someone somewhere flooded, someone even had a cute fireman and dingy, but did they need to bring out bruce willis?

Well, I can no longer deny it dear fellow bloggers.
That shitty DFS advert with the mariah carey song is on the radio 24/7.......that did not convince me.....the christmas lights were switched on (it was quite good actually, we had fake snow and a decent firework show, not the usual guy setting off one rocket)...I managed to keep my 'bah humbug' face all the way through.
But now even I dear fellow bloggers can no longer deny christmas is nearly here. Yes indeed, I have seen the Coke Commercial.
Now the flood gates have opened and suddenly I am all awash with xmas cheer, like Ebeneezer Scrooge after the three ghosts had visted and he realised he INFACT had not missed the day of getting pissed and eating so much that you are almost sick I am reborn.
I have been up and down the high street of my magical roman town, looking at the selection of gifts in BHS and doing the special xmas calculation

age X how related they are to me
----------------------------------- = Cost of pressie
how much they have pissed me off

There will be a few keyrings going out in the mail THIS year dear bloggers, infact....come to think about it....every year. I have a stash for such occasions. Bulk buying is the secret to a budget xmas

Have decided to go for it and get a bright pink xmas tree, have seen one in paperchase that will be mine cometh payday muahahahah. It maybe tacky, it maybe the type of thing that prick teases who frequent celebrity jungles invest in but dear fellow bloggers I AM A PRICK TEASE, I'm just not that fond of having to eat kangeroo testicles.
I will reveal in the sparkliness of my tree and decorate it with silver and white and there is not a thing anyone can do about it muahahahahahah.Am REALLY looking forward to all things sparkly and xmasy this year
The truth is would have never have even thought of buying such a odd thing last year, was too traditional and uptight, but since the traditional uptight side of me left with LB then I now am free to be wild, impulsive....and own pink trees.

What do you do dear fellow bloggers, I mean what is the proper steam room etiquette for such a situation. I was sitting, soaking up the steam, when a fat old generally gross grey haired man in bemuda shorts entered by hallowed chill out zone. He laid down on the warm marble slab next to me, stretched his legs out and let ut the BIGGEST LOUDEST DAMN FART you have ever heard (in a small enclosed damp space)

So dear bloggers what should I have done?

Option A) Look disgusted, tell him what a dirty bastard he is and RUN out of the room

Option Stay and take a big sniff and languish in the smell of his ripe fart, pretending it does not exist.

Option C) Stay for a minute, mutter something about it being too hot and make your escape

Yes dear blogger, I was the coward I picked option C. But Honestly, who in their right minds lets one off in a steam room???????????????????????

I hate updates. Okay so I gather from the patented Bill gates RELENTLESS advertising campaign on the TV that Windows 7 is coming out.
I will first put my hands up and say it wasn't bloody MY idea. Vista was is a big useless buggy pile of shite and am expecting a news story saying 'oops, we pushed it out too fast and missed the hole that lets hackers steal your credit card details' (Hmmm sounds familiar).
I DONT LIKE CHANGE dear fellow bloggers, I am sitting here at my keyboard with my pipe and slippers wishing for the good old days of windows 98. (Yes realise I am still only 27)
Anyway, back to the point. Here I am sitting on my bed, laptop on my.....lap, cup of tea and mikado at the ready, surfing the interwebs quite contently when...........out of nowhere dear blogger....... an annoying little pop up box appears in my peripheral vision. No it is NOT a advertising box selling me viagra, it is not a virus gained from me trying to illegally watch south park (again).
FUCKING BILL GATES.
Adobe reader updates???? When was the last time I used adobe reader? I don't think I've even opened the sodding program since I've had the laptop. Its like one of those stupid channels on the television like Gayrabbit or the GOD Channel. I'm never probably ever going to use it, so WHY do I need to interupt my important MSN conversation to reboot my computer, WHY QUEEN LATIFAH WHY????? I ASK YOU WHY????
Okay it does ask you if you want to delay these reboots, but the boxes are clever, they know what by now you have learnt to ignore them. They sneak up on you, they do not flash loudly that if you do not hit a button in the next two milliseconds all your unsaved work will disapear, your friends will suddenly wonder why you have vanished from FB chat.
And as for Microsoft Updates????? Has anyone ever noticed what they actually do????
I have never waited three days for 1 of 13 to update only to log back on to find my laptop now makes a tasty cappaccino. INFACT all they ever seem to do is slow the bastard thing down. Okay I appreciate that every now and then Windows Defender might get the odd virus update but why dear blogger, why every DAMN WEEK!!!!!!!
My windows is fine, leave it alone.
Unless.......... Maybe vista was THAT shite, that without all these updates it will go Skynet on our asses and take over the world. Maybe THATS how bill gates is ensuring the rest of the board do not take over and kick him out. We always knew he was agressive.
'If my machines do not recieve regular updates Mr Treasurer then you will have to explain to the President why they have killed 3 billion people. Muahahahahah'

My other rant of the week is those STUPID BLOODY TWINS. I don't even watch X factor (I prefer strictly on the other side hmmmm ricky whittle) and I'm sick of them. They are EVERYWHERE, two freaks who look like a cross between frankenstein's monster and a plug socket accident. I DON'T understand. Is this weird fanscination just because their is two of them?????? Why dear bloggers. I can't name any other contestant. I have not seen a single episode due to the fact Cheryl Cole makes me want to put my head through the television screen (I have to turn over at every pantene advert), but these twins are following me via the news media. The question has to be WHY if everyone hates them have they not been voted out already? Well I did think it was fixed this year.

Hello dear dear fellow bloggers.
I thought I would tell you about a encounter I had at the gym. I think this was the FUNNIEST thing I have seen for at least a week, maybe longer. I am often amazed at entertainment value of the male member of the sex. But what is it I hear you gasp, what is it that left luckystar more mesmerised than an episode of eastenders, something funnier than Alister Darling's economic forcasts.....surely not!!!! Well I shall share with you dear bloggers.
Picture the scene. A small yet posh gym, medicine balls and weights covering everywall that wasn't mirrored. I was stepping away on the cross trainer conteplating the looks of jealously my sisters will give me at christmas when they see my (hopefully by then) new amazingly toned ass. I was the only girl in the gym whilst three other mildly hot lads worked out (one of who I was eyeing up slightly). Macho Guy (Not the guy I was eyeing up I will point up) walked over to one of the weight machines, the one you sit on and push with your legs. He spent about twenty minutes adjusting the seat, the weights etc. All this I could see in the mirror because he was directly behind me. After FINALLY sitting down he started to push and made the most INCREDIBLE NOISES dear bloggers.
EEEEERRRRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH he heaved
HURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKK He pushed
ARGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH One more.......
The sound filled the room with its symphonic range of vowel sounds! I was trying to keep a straight face I really was, even though I had my back to him, I was aware he could see the smirk that had spread across my red visage. Unlike most men it did not seem to hamper his performance, either that or he was just too 'in the zone' to notice.
He even did that silly stretch mouth breathing as he panted. He managed about five pushes before putting his legs down and putting his hands on his knees and shaking his head.
He tried again
ERRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Just two this time before once again panting and a full stretch session to get out any pesky lactic acid.

After my little cross trainer session I decided to follow him onto the machine. I was stunned. After all he was quite a muscly guy. I thought by his screams he was lifting the heavens on his legs, I thought he was atlas, I thought he was heracules. Hell, at least the guy could take me. When I walked over to said machine I was WRONG. Turns out he in fact was a big pansy.
He had been lifting 30kg. All that noise for 30kg. Which may sound like a lot but not for your legs, not when me a GIRL, not a very butch or strong girl normally does 50kg on the same machine without making such a drama out of it.
Am wondering if said performance was for my benefit or the other lads in gym. Men do bemuse and confound me at times.

Dear fellow bloggers, this one isn't really for you guys, will return with new even rantier segement for your delight in next entry PROMISE!.
As you know we all have our little stats page that we like to look at and check how many times a search engine has rifled through our dirty laundry. Well when Little Bastard (my ex boyfriend to all those who joined me recently) asked to read my blog I told him not to, but did give him a RATHER specific search phrase with which to look. This ofcourse you, fellow bloggers know we can all see how many times has been typed into the blog.co.uk little white box. He however did not. Well I guess he does now. I have noticed this number creep up. Okay it doesn't have to be him. It could be Moose, the much older woman he (cough cough) left me for and if so well, I suppose this goes out to both of them. I decided to write this NOW because of a few little things that have happened in my life and a few little lets say visitations (after all it is halloween). And damn it, its been three months already. I would like this well and truely put to bed. So this is an official shout out!

Thank you.....for ending it. You set me free you really did. At the time I thought I would crumble, I thought I would be back to the doctors scrambling for the anti depressants and throwing up/ starving myself worse than ever. No one was more suprised than me when that didn't happen. I didn't run back home, I didn't shag around, I didn't need any pills, I didn't need any strange psychological cruches. I didn't do anything I was ashamed of myself for.
Because of that, because I DID that, by myself (no one else can take the credit for it) for the first time I feel optimistic about the future. I don't ever remember feeling like that. I don't ever remember feeling excited about the possibility in my life before. Its FUCKING BRILLIANT. I think this is what it is really like to walk around without depression. (Ironic really that it took you dumping me to get my depression properly under control)
Plus am looking pretty sweet since discovered the gym and not eating mega burgers from hoole fish bar.
What I'm trying to say is I'm doing just fine. So you don't need to 'check up on me' whether it be on here or on facebook (which isn't possible now since I blocked u), it really isn't healthy after three months is it? Trust me I'm doing you a favour.
I still don't want to see you, the WAY you ended it, the anger, the lies, the moose, those things forfitted my friendship. It is a strange thing when you lie next to a person every day for five years to pass them in the street like they don't exist. But the lying, all those lies, you made it impossible for me. I know I said (and wrote) a few nasty things but 'sticks and stones' and in truth, when people hurt me, I don't lie down and take it. Sorry I'm just not wired that way. I was shocked you were so suprised considering what you'd hurled at me.
I still hold true that you will look back one day and regret what you did, giving up the girl who could have given you everything. But I'm not in love with you anymore, and have no regrets. I wouldn't trade my future of possibility.
If its the girlfriend, well I think its pretty clear where I stand (like it ever wasn't). I have no intention in being an invisible third person in your relationship. To be honest the thought makes me sick a little bit in my mouth.
Whoever it is, cash in your chips, move it on, say goodbye. Lets mentally shake hands over the internet and call a truce and go our seperate ways (not in person tho, its called a metaphor) After all theres a big world out there. Goodbye LB.

What to rant bout today dear bloggers, I know I have been less rantier than usual. I have not that the venom that normally flows so blissfully from my mikado covered keyboard. The truth is being in a good mood doesn't tend to lend itself to bitchiness. The truth is life is pretty sweet at the moment. I have my very own bridget jones style pad, enough cash to buy pretty things, my arse had reduced DRAMATICALLY in size due to hard gym workouts rather than easier option of eating disorder,my hamsters haven't eaten anyone in at least a week and I have more man action than I can possibly handle. Okay not the right man action but it IS still keeping me entertained nevertheless.
However I am not one to disapoint dear fellow bloggers, I appreciate that Queen Latifah is probably shitting on you from a great height whilst singing 'you can't stop the beat', as she has me in past times. So I will rant for you with as much vigor as I can muster.
WHAT has pissed me off today.
People, just people. Not the situation in Afghanistan, or the Lisbon Treaty (Bloody hell Ireland LET DOWN!!!!) or even The Twins on X Fix-tor.
People who fall into the fuckwits catagory (which is expanding by the day, see usage of the word fuckwit blog entry).
I know I talk a lot dear blogger, especially after consuming large quantities of alcohol when it moves from talking to high pitched dog whistle-esque shouting and singing. But I do realise it takes two people to have a conversation. Talking to yourself is kind of boring. Just waiting for a gap to mentally masturbate the contents of your brain is not a way to communicate. Especially when its the SAME GOD DAMN CRAP each time.
One person I know, I have had the same conversation with at least twenty times. I don't think I even needed to be there. If I had replaced myself with a blow up doll that moans and groans occasionally (avalible from all good high street retailers this christmas folks ;p )I could have escaped, free into the fields just like those rabbits in Watership Down.....wait didn't they all die?????? Shudder.
My problem is I am too nice to say SHUT THE HELL UP. (Waits as all the bloggers choke on their sprite) I just send my mind to that happy happy place, except when these fuckwits get weird on my ass then I make my excuses like 'oh i've got to go and pick fleas out of my carpet' or 'damn that was my hamsters on the phone, they need me to bail them out of jail again'

Do you remember your high school biology dear fellow bloggers???? The Litmus test was when you hunched over your chemistry sets for idiots with a thin strip of white paper (very thin due to education cut backs) dipped it in the liquid in front of you and watched as the strip turned either red or blue to tell you the ph. Well thats kind of what I am like with guys.
I see the said piece of arse dip in my strip and wait for the paper to change.....red for shag him now and blue for just mates. There have been a very few select purples in my life but these have normally turned red or in a recent case moved away just before I split with LB
My problem is that I NEVER EVER change a blue guy to a red guy. I just cant do it. Once I make that decision its like snogging your brother. I have always had a fair few male friends, I like the company of blokes which at times can be simpler than my girlies.
HOWEVER, and this is the part that does get me into trouble dear dear bloggers. I am also a big flirt. I don't meeeeaaaannnnnn to be. I never set out to lead people on, but after a drink I do turn into a bit of a brazen hussy. Hell without a drink am a bit of a brazen hussy.
One of my male mates once said that I am the type of girl that stamp her foot and shout that she won't sleep with you but then smile out of the corner of her mouth like she might. Which is sort of true, I do stamp my foot and I do smile. I just never change the blue guys to the red guys.
And at the moment there are a select number of blue guys out there, who if I stretched out my pretty little hands would roll over. BUT I DON'T WANT A BLUE GUY, dear bloggers, I WANT A RED GUY!!!!!!!!!!
Don't get me wrong, there is nothing the matter with my blue guys, they are all nice sweet funny guys, some even don't live with their parents anymore!!!!... and I am not attracted to them in the least. Sigh.
I know a blue guy would be easier, but I also know within a week I would be bored, treat them like shit and I would lose a mate, sigh.

I have two theories of dating:
The first is hunting. For this you need a actual target (which at the moment I don't have) and a spear. Not a actual spear, its a metaphorical thing....unless you are into that shit. It involves chasing one prey. The good thing about this technique is that you know what you are getting, the bad points are that you are prone to miss and end up with nothing.
The second is fishing, this is my prefered tactic, as requires less effort and less stalking. Involves preping bait (ie looking foxy) and dangling your line over the side and seeing what you catch. The bad side is you have to throw back a lot of shoes, shopping trolleys and carrier bags before getting anything remotely resembling dinner.
This is the process I am going through right now dear bloggers, blues and shoes.

I hate being ill dear blogger, more than I hate cliff richard, ricky gevais or even yes, (I hear you gasp in your computer chairs) McFly.
I don't get ill very often you see, for the most part I eat my veggies, don't smoke and do all the other things all those stupid government advetising campaigns tell you to do. I've EVEN preserved my liver nicely in alcohol to prevent those nasty infections. I'm blaming this present case of flu on too much blood in my alcohol stream.
Unfortunatly its not swine flu, although its spreading around my work place just as virently. Maybe its some form of weird mutation .......SWING flu, michael buble is the route of all evil and the only way his new song can possibly get into the charts is through diease. DAMN YOU RADIO 2, DAMN YOU FOR LETTING IN BUBLE AND EVANS AND GETTING RID OF TERRY. (pant pant)
Told you I was ill, am getting delerious and snotting all over the keyboard.
My nose is a river of snot. I did not know it was possible for such a river of gunk to run out of such a small orifice. I feel like my head is the thames barrier holding back a tidel wave of shite.
My throat is sore dear blogger, I feel weaker than the labour party front bench plus my face has broken out with the biggest bunch of spots you have EVER seen in your life.
Still I do not call in sick for work, I go in like the plague dog that I am to spread swing flu to the masses, and to make my boss feel guilty. Plus I know if I do call in sick on the day when all the managery stuff has to be done I will get the blame for that as well so best to play the martyr.
That is not the worst bit though dear blogger (I appreciate the fact that I am sounding like a whiny bitch today, but am sitting surrounded by mountains of used tissues and orange juice cartons size of Andes) whilst am serving shitest sandwiches have ever made in my history as a decorated sandwich maker, who decides to come in........yup you guessed it....shapely guy, who yes I know has a girlfriend, ex wife and sprogs but still enjoy odd flirt because he is WELL FIT. (Even tho would not go there prommmmmmiiiiiisssseeeee)
I tried to smile seductively whilst my pasty white skin sweated nicely under the neon lights and I did try dear blogger to sniff the big piece of snot back into my nose that threatened to drop into his sandwich (he puts loads of salt on it anyway, I'm sure he wouldn't have noticed). How could anyone resist me? I ask you.
Although I do enjoy not having whiny annoying bloke attached to personage (men in general are treat us girlies better when we are mates than as casual shags) having someone look after me now would be a brucie bonus. Will wait til am better and keep on looking for my cross between Ewan Mcgregor and Mountie out of Due South. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Feel better already

ellllooooooooooo dear bloggers, yes it has been over a week since my last entry. I have been filling the hours in which I used to spend at the keyboard surrounded by pringles and vimto with (drumrollllllllll please), no not a fella, mores the pity but the gym. Yes dear dear fellow bloggers, no one was more shocked than I was, I am actually going!
Not only am I going but am hitting the gym BIG STYLE (well for me), about two hours a pop at ALEAST twice a week. Okay admittedly half an hour is spent in the sauna and steam room but how else is a girl to get clean pores.
I am now to report that I have gone from looking like Kerry Katona to Madonna in just three weeks.......okay not quite. What I really have to report is that the jelly roll round my middle now only wobbles for ten seconds when you poke it instead for thirty, but am proud nethertheless. It does however make me realise the BULLSHIT in these celeb slag mags. 'Look how much I lost in just three weeks without the aid of lipo or speed!!!!' because despite the GI jane work out I'm putting myself its still gonna take me a while to look like a Saturday.

Anyway now for a big ol rant,
Have asked for xmas off. I did not think it was that bigger ask since I have worked the last two and am always the first one to cover/swap shifts if needs be. This is proven by the fact that we are now at the end of the holiday year (end of november) and out of my 28 days holiday entitlement I have 22 left. So in general unlike other members of staff not one to piss people around with constant holiday requests.
The only reason I have done so this year is one, its my little sisters 18th birthday just after xmas which understandbly, I want to watch her be able to legally buy a drink for the first time and get her so ratted that she ends up puking up in a bush at three in the morning.
Two, since no longer with little bastard I no longer have anyone with which to spend xmas with this end of the country, so do not wish to have xmas day with just me, my hamsters and a marks and spencers christmas dinner for one. (The last two years I went to LB's parents house and the whole thing passed in drunken haze )
Have managed to rope my mother into giving me lift since trains from my magical roman town to not so magical town dwindling at bottom of championship (please god let Keane be sacked by Christmas) suck arse and no doubt will be on sunday service all xmas making the journey suck more than last time. See previous post.
So when I filled in my holiday form like a good girl, giving him MONTHS of warning (have also been making noises that I will want xmas off, so not been quiet about it. He then rings me in work to bitch about me wanting ten days (because I have to work around my mother). I point out paragraph A of rant and his reply is if I dont like it then resign. Well if when he has chilled out he insists I miss my little sisters first binge drinking session and spend xmas talking to Kim (my hamster) then he might get what he wishes for. I do like my job......most of the time. I work my arse off and am always flexible for them when they need it.
Okay this may sound like a stupid little threatening rant that may come to nothing. Which is possible, but the truth of the matter is I was thinking about looking for another job after xmas anyway. I was just waiting for another staff member to come back off maternity leave first to not leave them in the poo. I would have been there for over two years then which is a nice number to say to a prospective employer. The truth is I like the people but I know I can do more and I don't want to get stuck in a rut. Because its a franchise I can't really get promoted anymore than I am (the person above me will probably drop down dead of a heart attack before logging on to job centre plus). I think tonight may have just sped up the process.