The Male Ego Knows No Bounds

Lets be honest now, I've always known that the male ego knows no bounds, but tonight I was treated to it with hilarious results. I was supposed to be having a night out with MBF (Male Best Friend) and another guy Mr Loverman, but our plans were scuppered when my team decided that tonight was the night we were all having drinks to celebrate a teammates promotion. We headed off to happy hour and whilst I sipped on the soft drinks, everyone got merry around me.

Mr Loverman, the baby of our teamand who is by all accounts (often his) a hit with the ladies seemed to be in competition with my boss and his best mate Wingman, who also think they're hits with the ladies (I always tell them that they're the best of a bad bunch just to annoy them). Mr Loverman doesn't get on Wingman so when he spotted Wingman eyeing up a woman, he later waited till his back was turned, sneaked downstairs and apparently chatted her up and came back waving her number around. Wingman was livid and my boss managed to trick Mr Loverman into handing him the piece of paper and Wingman put the number in his phone and dialed it. Naturally Mr Loverman went nuts and accused them of "c*ckblocking" while I cried with laughter and sat back and watched the ego's fighting for top spot.

We headed downstairs a while later and we were soon having moonwalking and highkicking competitions, naturally initiated by me. Unfortunately because I was wearing a skirt that was quite tight, it was difficult for me to flex my leg MJ style. A while later, after the other girls left, it was just me with MBF, Wingman, Boss and Mr Loverman and I knew that the ego war would start again.

"I think I've just seen the love of my life" says my boss, eyeing this blonde.
"She looks a bit like a chav to me with all that make-up!" I quipped.
"Yes, but you never know, she may sound really posh when she opens her mouth."
"Isn't she leaving?" and we watched her head up the stairs with her friend. "Go on. Go after her!"
"If she looks back at me I will." and we watch her go up the stairs without a backward glance and I try not to laugh. Then, in this completely surreal moment, I see Mr Loverman running through the crowd, and sprint up the stairs with breakneck speed after the 'love of my life'.
"Er, is it my imagination, or has Mr Loverman just run after her?" I said giggling.
"What the f*ck! Wingman, can you believe what Mr Loverman has done?" he splutters with complete disbelief. MBF and I are falling around laughing whilst my boss and Wingman scratch their heads in complete confusion.
"Yeah well that number he showed us earlier, I bet it's his mothers!" says Wingman with his face looking like a smacked arse.
"Jaysus, is that the best you can come up with you pair of b*tches!?"
"Maybe he's just gone outside to make a phonecall" Gosh my boss is a bit delusional sometimes.

And about 20 minutes later.
"I got the number and a bit of a kiss off that blonde that was standing over there." and MBF howls with laughter as my boss and Wingman look completely bootfaced.
"What? What? What have I done?" completely oblivious that he and my boss are swimming in the same shark circles.

Later I watched as boss and wingman got chatted up by two women. Moments later, Mr Loverman appears and the two women lose interest and start chatting to him. A while later Mr Loverman stuffs one of their numbers into his pocket and walks by purposefully with the pen.
"Cocky little sh*t" says Wingman.
"Don't be jealous now!" I cooed, secretly thinking that my little prodigy Mr Loverman had done me proud this evening. "You only wish you had that much luck with the ladies!"

Later, my boss and I were discussing a woman that flirts with him all the time. "She's so insincere!" I said.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because she said you had a nice arse when you don't even have an arse!" and he chokes on his drink. "What? It's true!"

"OK, OK, it's true. God help your future husband!" "Why, because he'll have no arse?" and we laughed our 'arses' off, or at least I did!

********
I have moved my date to Wednesday as I have a few things I need to do before I head off to Dublin on Saturday morning. I have to get up at the crack of friggin dawn on Saturday morning so I won't be very much fun. I am in better spirits after a weird start to the week and looking forward to catching up with lots of friends and spending time with my family. My mum is probably going to try to set me up with potential husbands and for 3 days, I'll feel like the spectacle at the feast whilst people either stare at me, or ask me if I'm NML, that used to go to such and such school, who's brother does this, or mum does that, or that used to go out with so and so. I'm thankful that there are a lot more black people in Dublin than there used to be, but I'm sure I'll still stick out. Pray for me that I don't bump into any old boyfriends or dates!

I will try and post from Dublin, but in the meantime have a fab weekend!

Gotta Keep It Together

I got into bed last night feeling more than a little pissed off, although it was more to do with Tesco.com losing my grocery order in cyberspace as opposed to the future decision hanging over my head re lifelong steroids. Gosh I have my priorities! As I lay there trying to watch Phoenix Nights (one of the best comedy ever btw!), the enormity of the day seemed to creep over me and I could feel flutters in my stomach, and anxiety shrouding me in the darkness. My breathing seemed to become quite shallow and my whole chest started to feel cold and it was like breathing in the cold air of winter in my warm bedroom.

I shifted in the bed and felt a pain shoot up my left leg. "Where the f*ck did that come from?" I touched the left side of my lower back and for some reason rubbed my left bum cheek and I snatched my hand back in horror. There were about 10 frigging lumps that weren't there yesterday morning. I started to reason with myself. "For f*cks sake NML, calm the f*ck down!" It seems that me pretending that everything was OK whilst subconsciously feeling the world closing in had backfired and stressed out my immune system. "Calm down, calm down" I kept saying to myself, but my chest felt smaller and I had this horrid thought about passing out in my flat on my own. "Oh f*ck!" and panic gripped me. In the background I heard Peter Kay say "Have you swept that c*ck up yet?" and found myself dissolving into panic stricken giggles. I pressed pause and as I lay there trying to calm myself, my brain whirred through every secret thought that I'd had over the course of the day. Minutes that felt like hours went by and those stupid hot tears rolled down my face.

I did what I used to do when I first found out that I was ill and picked up the phone to the person who has seen and listened to me at my worst with this...and comforted me. It did occur to me whether I could call someone else but I figured they were sleeping or shagging. I briefly pondered if this person was shagging, but thought "F*ck it" and dialled. "He keeps telling me he wants to be there for me so he can cut his shag short!" After a few rings MBF (Male Best Friend) picked up. He was delighted to hear from me and sensed that I was upset, probably because I could barely speak for my head being full of tears. Whilst being the eternal optimist is what goes against MBF sometimes because he doesn't sort his sh*t out, it also means that he is unwaveringly positive about my future and this poxy illness. He rationalised with me, put things in perspective, consoled me and was patient with me. I got off the phone and I think I was asleep 5 minutes later.

I woke up to my alarm feeling dazed and confused and went back to sleep for a while. I phoned in sick and explained what was going on to our second in command, who was really understanding and said she didn't blame me for staying home. I got texts and phonecalls from worried colleagues and, me being me felt uncomfortable about them knowing that I'd fallen apart. M (close friend who I went to Egypt with) popped in this afternoon and we watched TV and she made me laugh. I started to nod off towards the end and about 5 minutes after she left I was out cold on the couch. I woke up to the sound of the intercom and some woman waffling about flowers. Moments later I was holding an enormous bunch of flowers with a lovely note 'from my work buddies'.

I missed a call from the guy from Saturday night (again) but he called back and asked me out to dinner on Friday, which I have provisionally accepted. Night in my boudoir knickers or dinner with a guy? Oh the choice is so hard.... I must shake my habit of dossing on Friday nights so I suppose this is a good start. It won't be a late one though as I have to get up at the crack of dawn to fly to Dublin on Saturday morning. He asked me why I didn't drink on Saturday and why I was at home today, and I lied and said I had a cold. I didn't really think that I needed to tell him about my illness. I'd probably scare him off........

My best friend of 10 years Cass called from Dublin this morning and I'm so excited about meeting up with her. The last thing she told me was that she had bumped into The Mummy's Boy looking like Michael Jackson with his face being exceptionally pale (He used to be a sunbed whore so this is scary), his hair being too long and what appeared to be blusher on his face. I laughed so hard, I nearly choked myself!

Hot Tears Over Steroids

I walked into the chest clinic this morning with 'The Way You Make Me Feel' by MJ tempting me to do a quick moonwalk. I giggled to myself as I realised that I was inadvertently walking in time to the music. I was in really good spirits despite having to get up an hour early, and remained cheery after my chest xray and lung function test. And then my spirits nosedived...

After explaining what had happened over the summer, where the lumps were, what pain I had been in, the positives after 2 kinesiology sessions and a change of diet, the doctors were looking at me skeptically and I knew what was coming. "How would you feel about going back on steroids?"

I explained that it's like exchanging one set of problems for another, it doesn't fix anything, it just suppresses things, quality of life and how I wanted to explore other avenues before consigning myself to the steroid scrapheap. He told me that steroids do have their side effects but that it does give me a better quality of life (How the f*ck would he know?), that it helps me manage day to day, that they don't know why I have my disease and that it's incurable, and that steroids help with long term problems. Long term problems?

The area around my lungs and heart has shadows from granulomas, which is why I had difficulty breathing. Seemingly if I don't treat my condition with steroids, the problems with my lungs will cause problems with blood circulating to my heart, and if this continues, I will have pulmonary troubles when I am older, like heart problems...like possible heart failure.

He went to speak with my consultant who I normally see and explained my resistance, and I go back in 3 months. The shadows haven't increased in my chest over the summer and this was behind his 'decision'. In the meantime, I've done the bloodtest that I had forgotten to do beforehand (they may call me back if anything is dodge) and I've also been referred to a dermatologist who may inject steroids in my face or give me a cream as I have lupus something or other, which is manifestations on my face from the disease. They are not visible, but under my skin, with an ever so slight redness.

You wouldn't believe how I feel today. I'm feel teary eyed as I type this because I can't help feeling really f*cking frustrated. I can't make a decision about being on steroids for the rest of my life just like that. I have to explore every possible avenue before I do that. I am 28 years old. I should be having fun and worrying about anything other than heart problems I may have further down the road. I cannot comprehend making a decision like this and I won't - not until I am sure that I have tried everything else. It's scary to think that I'm being asked about something that only affects me now, but will affect others like the family I hope to have further down the road. I spoke to my mum and she sounded so frightened, I felt bad for telling her. I've had chest pains all day as well and I'm just trying to be calm. I will be OK in the morning. Everything will hopefully seem better in the morning.

I went for dinner at Wagamama's with a three really good friends and I probably haven't laughed so hard in ages. My friend NK is back from Dubai and we reminisced about Michael Jackson dancing at work, I gave him all the gossip and we realised that we're growing up when we talked about being more settled. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed him until today but fingers crossed he'll be moving back. Oh and I missed a call from that guy from Saturday night.

Old Friends

"Don't you remember me?", and I focus on his spiky hairdo so that I don't burst out laughing.
"No....", even though I did, because we've had this conversation each time we've met at various parties for the past 4 years.
"Do you remember you and your Newcastle mate (B) thought I was gay? Even though I'm not!", he says hastily.
"Oh, I remember you now!" and we both burst out laughing as he does the whole explaining away the fact that he's camper than a field of tents.
"Has Ros not told you about when we slept together?" he joked.
"Yes", I reply dryly. "She said you had a tiny todger!"

My fried Ros is going traveling in Australia for a few months, so we gathered in one of London's biggest pick-up joints, where I caught up with my ex-uni friends. Everybody was getting super-sloshed whilst I sipped on water and juice, so I decided to try Red Bull to keep me going and found myself more than a little hyper.

The venue is about 5 stories high, with music on different floors, and a few thousand people milling around getting pissed. There were about 2 good looking guys in the entire place and even my friend G who isn't always so choosy, said that he couldn't see anyone that he fancied. When we hit the dancefloor, we were besieged by strange guys and used G as a human shield. Normally he'd be on the prowl but he claimed that it was better to stick with us hot girls. Charmer!

As we had hit the dancefloor, a guy had caught my eye and smiled at me. He was with about four girls (turns out that he was there for similar reasons to mine) so I didn't think much of it , until Ros pointed out that he was watching me. Ros was really drunk by now so decides that she wants to play teenage matchmaker, and caused me to have to threaten her. As we walked off the dancefloor for a few moments, he tapped me on the arm to get my attention, and we exchanged names. He was polite and friendly...and charming.

"I just had to talk to you. You're the most beautiful girl in the club tonight." There was this awkward silence as I didn't know what to say and I realised that I have become suspicious of being chatted up. God it's a sad day when it dawns on you that you're wary of talking to strangers. How the frig am I ever going to date someone if I distrust chat up lines?

So I smiled and said thank you and did that thing you all know I hate: Answer the where are you from question. He was curious because he found the 'looks' confusing. Oh the joys of blackness......

I left him to catch up the others, and then danced right up until the end of the night (you should have seen us giving it loads to Bob Marley Could You Be Loved). Ros kept pestering me about talking to the guy and when my back was turned, she went over to talk to him. My face flushed with embarrassment and G was cracking up laughing, but I guess it worked because we got chatting again and it ended with me giving him my number. G walked over as I was keying it in his phone and said, "NML! I thought you said you didn't fancy him?" and it felt like my knickers had fallen around my ankles as I prayed for the ground to open up. "Ignore him!" and they both laughed. "I'm joking" said G. "She fancies the arse off you."

Who knows if he'll phone, but it was a funny experience. I learnt that I need to keep an open mind about being complimented.

As G walked me up to my night bus, he said "That chat up line was a bit cheesy, even for me!" I swatted him with my handbag and we laughed, chatted, reminisced and took the piss out of an ex. Ears must have been burning.

I have my 3 month visit at the hospital tomorrow, which is a bit late as they rescheduled it a few weeks ago. I haven't really thought about it and no matter what is said, I'm not going on steroids. I'll have to do a blood test, chest xray, lung function test and undergo interrogation and examination. I was telling M (friend from Egypt holiday) all of the little things that have changed since I started the kinesiology and I feel positive because they add up to a lot. I've got flutters in my tummy though........

Hope you all had good weekends x

Stop The Madness

It's still handbags at dawn at work and sensitivities are high, tempers are frayed and we're looking at each other wearily and warily. Thank f*ck this deadline which has moved about 10 times because sales people are never told the true deadline, is really over tomorrow. And then there's another one.

Sometimes I feel like one of those hamsters going round and round in those plastic ball things. I'm like Bill Murray (yeah I know I got the name wrong first time) in Groundhog day. I put my head on the table for a few minutes today and thought about closing my eyes. Then I went on an icecream run for the team and as I walked away from my bosses who were having a fag outside, I wondered what it would be like to just keep walking. Then reality set in and I realised that my iPod, handbag, my precious PDA/phone and one of my favourite cardigans were in the office. Dash went that plan.....

It was like media land when I went for a few drinks (cranberry juice's) after work and caught up with NK who is visiting from Dubai. I realised that we were getting older when the tart admitted that he has a girlfriend, which I could have sworn he doesn't do. I thought that it's only female friends announcements of their attachments that makes you think the world is getting smaller, but NK has proved me wrong. Have I just stood still while everyone paired off and got on Noah's ark? B is off to Paris in the morning for her birthday with John (happy birthday B!), and I believe they're going with another couple. I used to do things with B and I realise that if I ever want to see her again on a regular basis outside work, I'd better get myself a boyfriend. Must remember to add that to my shopping list.

Another friend of mine turned up and one of the first things he asked me was if I was going out for The Contender's birthday. "I don't know seeing as I wasn't invited" Cue tumbleweeds.....

I left quite early as the tiredness crept up on me and I am learning to listen to my body when it says it wants to go home. As I walked from the tube station to Marks and Spencers (M&S), 2 different men said hello and another 2 guys waved insanely from their delivery truck where they were dancing to the radio. After I had finished my shopping and was walking home, three more cars honked at me and a strange old black man said hello to me and kept saying it until I had to stop pretending that I couldn't hear him over my iPod. Have I mentioned that old black men seem to like saying hello to me? I must tell my grandad.......

I did a quick run through of my checklist as I walked the rest of the way home:

Tits not hanging out - check
Skirt not tucked into my knickers at the front or back - check
Hadn't fallen asleep on the tube, stripped off and sleepwalked the rest of the way home - check

And then I wondered if the distinctive M&S food bag said 'Single woman living on own in need of a shag'.

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Questions

1 Why do men love listening to the sound of their own voice?

2 What is it about 'no' that people seem to misunderstand when I say it?

"Yeah..but...no..but...yeah..but...no...but...Of course you can say no."
"Okay then, NO!" and I struggled to hide my annoyance after already saying no about 10 times.
"Yeah..but...no..but...yeah..but...no...but...Of course you can say no. But 'The Man Who Holds The Key to my Arse' is going to ask a lot of questions and demand answers. But if I was in your position, I would do what I was comfortable with. You can say no if you want to" Is he on crack? Were we both having the same conversation?

3 Why do men need soooo much attention?

A baby that has not been fed by it's mothers breast for several hours in a stinking nappy can cope better...... I actually had a colleague/friend utter the words "I need attention" and "Let me in" in a phone conversation. On any other day I would have laughed but instead I was a complete cow, albeit he deserved it.

4 Why do so many women have an aversion to treating toilets with any respect?

I went to use the toilet this morning at work, lifted the lid and nearly threw up my lovely breakfast of M&S brown bread with sunflower seeds. I was not very happy and of course, rather dizzy.

5 How the hell have I managed to keep my annoyance in check until today?

Deadlines are bringing about frayed tempers and everyone's rather tense, yet the egos roam free and I get tired of whinging about doing the basics of your job so a few naughty words just might have slipped out and my annoyance might just have become rather undisguised. I'm a normal person, get me out of here!

6 Why do people say "You've lost lots of weight" as if you used to bring about a total eclipse when you entered a room?

My weight when I finished the steroids was 8 stone 4 or 116 pounds. I am now 7 stone 8 or 106 pounds. I know that people aren't being horrible but the repetitive comments make even the most relatively secure of people like me say on the quiet to a couple of people, "Did I look really big before?"

The past couple of days have been complete poo and the weekend can't come fast enough. My head felt like it was going to cave in earlier. I think my workplace is turning me into a nutter. I daydreamed of being whisked away to a land where this madness is a distant memory, I am being waited on hand and foot by buff, sexy men (includes Colin Farrell) and I get paid more to do less. Seriously, being on all fours trying to push out a baby with no pain relief and everyone gawping at me in my compromised position (this is my worst childbirth nightmare) seems a more pleasant option than suffering work at the moment!

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Just Can't Help Myself!

I arrived at the tube station for a client visit this afternoon with 20 minutes to spare. Feeling energetic and also wearing trainers (sneakers), I decided to stroll to the office, which is in an industrial park off the horrid North Circular road. MBF (male best friend) phoned and we chatted away as I walked and it was only when 20 minutes had gone by when I realised that I had taken a wrong turn. I ended up having to phone the receptionist who directed me, and when I got to the office I changed into my heels in the lift.

I was told my client wasn't back yet and confronted with a mirror in the reception area, I quickly checked myself and made sure my shirt was tucked in and the hair was good. As I flicked my hair, I heard a voice pierce my subconscious.
"NML....NML......NML...." I turned and my client was trying to hold back laughter and looking at me 'admiring' myself in the mirror. "You alright there?" he said.

"Caught rapid! You must think I'm a right vain thing!" and we both burst out laughing. "Just so you know, I walked from the station, hence why I was fixing myself in your mirror!" I followed him into the office with my cheeks burning.

After the meeting, I made the mistake of getting the bus home. It instantly filled up with the noisiest school kids ever and the screeching and swearing had me flinching. If I closed my eyes, I could've sworn there were a load of gangsta's on the bus, but it turned out that they were 15 year olds with serious attitude.

"F*ck.....innit yeah.....Brethren.....bloodclaat........she can't give him what I can give him......I told her I'd kick out her........he can't have a piece of this......f*ck...sh*t......come up in my face yeah......ser-i-ous tings.......mash him up.....mash her up..."

I turned around and looked at them and one of the girls asked the ringleader to keep it quiet. She got louder. I turned and stared at her and she kept going, despite warnings from her friends that all of the passengers were looking at her. I tried so hard to bury my head in my book and cursed the battery in my iPod for dying on me, and then I could take no more.

"Would you please be quiet?" and she ignored me. I realised then that there was only one type of language that this girl would understand. "Excuse me?" and she smirked at me enquiringly. "Shut the f*ck up. Now!", and all of a sudden there was no more smirking and her friends were laughing at her. She opened her mouth to say something and then thought better of it. I may not be 'gangsta', but I do know how to do bitch. There's no need for her to know that I was absolutely sh*tting it that the little buggers would try and start a fight with me.....

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Get-a-Long Gang

It's not often that I get nervous around people or feel out of my depth, but going to the Blog Meet yesterday was one of those times. It's difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was that made me feel a bit funkydory, but it's the gang/clique environment that outweighed. I guess I forget that attending a Blog Meet is like attending a writers event, and people have perceptions of themselves and also of everyone else. I love blogging but I just don't take myself too seriously, so that probably went against me. I'm intelligient but I don't tell people "I'm intelligient" as I figure that would normally be gauged by whatever I'm saying. I was also the only black in the village, which is the story of my life and in a scenario like this, I stood out like a sore thumb. Oh f*ck ran through my mind about 50 times!

Fortunately I met some really lovely people but I probably circulated around 6/7 people out of more than 20 people. When I arrived, I looked around and saw a couple of eclectic groups of people but couldn't see Greavsie, so I legged it to the bar, ordered a drink and phoned him. It turned out that the eclectic groups were the Blog Meet. Greavsie was a complete delight and introduced me to people and chatted away to me for probably much longer than he had planned to. He told me that he admired me for attending and that it took a lot of balls, which I guess confirmed that I wasn't nuts for feeling nervous!

It was quite funny when I would be introduced to someone and they'd ask what my blog was and I'd tell them and they'd give me this strange look and say "Sorry, er, I haven't heard of that", which made it pleasurable when they told me what their blog name was to say "Hmmm, yeah, never heard of it!", which I could tell from their facial expression was not the correct response. I wondered if my subject matter made me the trailer trash of blogging......

The moments when I was on my own for a few moments were so funny and awkward but I didn't care. I didn't expect people to stand on ceremony for me and used the moment to observe and to chill out for a few moments. It was lovely to meet new people like Bridget Who?/Laura, PPQ, Jonny B amongst others, and I definitely made some firm friends and it felt like I had known Bridget Who?/Laura for ages after we talked the ears of each other and told ex stories. (nothing like a healthy bitch to bond women!) We both noted that blogging doesn't seem to attract hot guys, or at least ones that attend our Blog Meets!

I have done jack today as I woke up with a terrible headache which rendered me pretty incapable for the day. I've decided to add a bit of excitement into my life and go speed-dating to make it up for my hot totty free weekend. I'm quite busy over the next couple of weeks as I have various get togethers, plus I go home to Dublin on the 1st October for a few days, which I'm really looking forward to. I'm sure my mother will try to line up lots of boys to try and marry me off whilst I'm there. Scary!

Tired of 'Some' Men

It really pisses me off when people are sneaky but throw in some discourtesy and a touch of disrespect and I throw my FMB's out of the pram, big style.

The tale goes like this:

Dipstick wants to get in to see your new client that you are trying to arrange a meeting with (please bear in mind that this is not his client too). Dipstick goes behind your back, emails the client and suggests a meeting that he claims that you're going to come to as well. Chase Dipstick about the meeting date which he claims he's trying to finalise and will come back to me. Dipstick avoiding all calls and emails for past couple of weeks, and I couldn't go contacting the client as I will look like a complete tool that doesn't communicate with colleagues. Overhear that Dipstick is pulling the same stunt with another client. Feel annoyance simmering. Discover that new boss is allowing Dipstick to do this because they are 'mates'. Still simmering. Today I discover that Dipstick has sneaked off to the meeting that he'd promised to invite me on. Just about manage to control my explosion of temper. Just.

I didn't say anything because 1) I didn't trust myself to have the conversation today and 2) because I wanted to see if Dipstick was a complete gobshite by waiting to see if any 'communication' was forthcoming on his return from the meeting. There was none. Heads will roll.

I don't know what makes me more angry: The fact that he behaves like this and actually believes that I will put up with it, or the fact that because he's in the protected boys club where you can do whatever you like to soothe your ego, that his behaviour doesn't get checked by my boss. Would it be too much to ask when they're knocking dicks, I mean ego's, for him to protect a member of his own team instead of the imaginary fraternity?

And whilst I'm having a bitch: Why do guys have to be so bloody literal? Why do they always assume they are right? Why do they think they are the centre of the frigging universe?

Rant over......

I am going to a Blog Meet tomorrow (starts at lunch and goes on into the night apparently) which I was invited to by Greavsie. I know this may sound odd, but it is a little nerve-wracking as I do actually have occasional moments of shyness. Admittedly it doesn't last for very long, but I feel under pressure to be..NML. I know that sounds weird! I am of course NML, and strangely enough, the weather has turned to shit which means the FMB's (F*ck Me Boots) will be coming out, but what if they all think I'm some sick (and I do mean sick in the illness sense) nutter who bitches about men and sits around in boudoir knickers on a Friday night? What the f*ck am I talking about? I am all of the those things. Due to my exhaustion from a horrific week at work plus launching the site, I am beyond tired, and this evening I am smelling of Victoria Secret's (brought in US for all that wanted to know) in a rather foxy black nightdress.

Touch wood (actually wood, not a hard on) but the pain started to subside over the past couple of days. I can walk without thinking that my right leg and lower back will snap and lying in bed has almost stopped being something that I fear.

Thanks to all of those who have visited baggagereclaim so far and please do keep visiting. Does anyone know why lots of people are reading it but not leaving comments? Oh and can someone suggest a name for the column I plan to do? My brain is frazzled!

I was walking home with my shopping from M&S when I spotted a hot looking guy in the reception of the Marriot. I had a good 'ole ganders through the window...and walked right into the giant plant pot! Oh the shame! I didn't dare look!

A Child is Born...hee hee

Just over forty minutes ago, after a long, painful labour, which involved having an epidural from The Daily Sketch and muchos emails and typing, my baby was born. Finally.

No I have not had an immaculate conception, but after having an idea ages ago, fannying around for ages, having a go, pissing about a bit more, having another go, realising I could make a proper stab at it, Baggagereclaim my other site has finally been launched. I couldn't have done it without the genius that is The Daily Sketch (Thank you!). He realised what I was trying to do, set up a brilliant content management system (skip over that if you're not technical) and helped me get the look, and put me back in my place when I tried to be a know-it-all.

There are additional faces on board who have either contributed already or plan to contribute (Vixen, New York Moments, The Daily Sketch, Home Detention Lady, Greavsie, Serial Loser, Jamy, Alan, and JonnyB, and expect additional sections to appear. I am waiting on interviews from a couple of naughty bloggers (you know who you both are), and I'm looking for lots of contributions so email me if you want to take part! A big thanks to all of those who have contributed so far, with a special mention to Vixen who has been doing all sorts, and has emailed almost every day for weeks helping me out.

On a different note, I think keeping busy has distracted me from dwelling on this stupid illness. I was feeling quite down on Monday when I posted about Dreams but it turned out that Aunt Flo was coming to town and I hadn't twigged it.......... I have been so busy at work and beavering on the site, that I haven't time to notice most of the aches and pains. Thanks to everyone who commented. The comments were so lovely, touching and most of all, inspiring because they made me say to myself "Shut the f*ck up and stop whinging. Things aren't that bad. It will get better because it has to. You have a good support network." I am very lucky. Things may not be as I want them to be, but I can have a bloody good go at changing things. I can't promise that I'll be upbeat everyday, although I can promise Greavsie that I'll always wear good underwear, and most of all, I can promise that I will get over every shit mood and come out on the other side.

You have two choices in life. Sink or swim? Sinking is not an option so I'll be getting my shrinking booty (can you believe that my newly acquired booty from steroids is slowly ebbing away?) out of bed every day and living life. Fingers crossed that this illness will be distant memory in years to come.

A text has just come through from a guy that I gave my number to a month ago in a bar, mostly because I was too embarrassed to say no and not quick witted enough to put a fake one in without stumbling. He wants me to suggest a good time to call as he has been away for a while. Is he taking the bloody piss? The answer to his question: Never. Do I seem like a girl you can put on layaway for a while?

Dreams

I lay in bed last night unable to sleep and unable to even roll over with Nac beside me saying in her lovely Hull accent "Fookin 'ell! That's really bad!" everytime I yelled out in pain. Just so that no-one gets the wrong idea, Nac and I were sharing the bed because I was too lazy to pull out the sofa bed and we couldn't slag off people on the telly till we fall asleep if we're in separate rooms! Anyway, I digress........

The pain was awful and I couldn't move my legs or shift my weight without crying out in pain. "I'm f*cking 28 not 78. This is not how my life is supposed to be! What the hell is going to happen to me?"

Nac was great and made me laugh but in the dark, sly, traitorous tears crept down my face. I couldn't help it. I felt infuriated with how things are and how I thought they would be. When I got up this morning and was getting ready for work, I tripped over the shoebox of diaries that I have been looking through to get an understanding of the teenage NML. It opened on a page that contained this:

My ambitions are to go onto third level education and go into the art, law or business field. I'd like to have two girls and I'd like to settle down and get married in my late twenties, early thirties. I want a traditional wedding and I'd honeymoon in Paris, Milan or the Far East. I definitely want to live in the city when I'm single and near the city when I'm married. I want to travel the world and write a book. I wouldn't mind being rich but I certainly won't be poor!
I was fourteen years old. Oh and my all time favourite song at that time was Mr Loverman by Shabba Ranks .....

I thought about that paragraph on the train to a client this morning and The Game's 'Dreams' (yes he's a big, muscly gangsta rapper that talks about money, clothes and ho's) got stuck in my head and I played it on my iPod a few times and lost myself in the melody, and putting aside some of the vulgarity, I couldn't ignore his words. The song takes us on a voyage of when he had nothing and all he had were his dreams and how he is now living them. The chorus talks of people who are no longer here, that had dreams but there lives were cut short.

I thought that I had forgotten what my dreams were and in a way I had lost touch with that teenage self that I'm trying to rediscover, in attempt to understand the possible roots of the triggers of my illness. I had forgotten that I dreamt of writing a book, yet I make references to it for years in my diaries. I did want to go to university but in my twenties achieving this became a mix of proving others wrong. I got a design degree, but after all of the sacrifice and hard work, it was a complete anti-climax and I never did manage to muster up the energy to be pleased. I shoved it to the side and forgot about it.

I'm now in my late twenties and the dream of being married in them or my early 30s, may or may not be realised, but it's not a 'dream' now. I never dreamt that I would go out with a few guys that robbed me emotionally and that I ultimately ended up strengthening myself against before ending the relationships in a big bang. I thought I'd go out with a few twits but I didn't realise that they would make up the great chunk of my relationship history. I didn't dream for a second that I would seek out dysfunctional relationships with guys that had a vacuum where the good emotions should be.

I definitely didn't dream of fighting a disease which seems to have been ripping through my immune system since I was 25. I took it for granted that I could run, dance, get pissed or even rollover in my own bed. Life has a funny way of laughing at you and pulling down your boudoir knickers!

Recently I had a revelation that I'm suppressing what I really am and what I want and I don't want to do it anymore. Much as I enjoy the job I do (or at least used to), it was born of circumstance because I finished my degree, broke up with the ex fiance, had to find a job and a home and I was practical because I had the experience and needed to do a job that was well paid and had prospects. I did well and got promoted quickly but I've had the repetitive feeling of going stir-crazy. I'm wondering, who am I and what do I want?

I don't want to cut my dreams short. Some people have no choice and they get their dreams robbed from them. I can let the tears out when I have to, but I need to dream again.

Chilling in Boudoir Knickers

It's Friday night and I'm sitting on my sofa, freshly showered reeking of Victoria Secret body spray, in what I refer to as boudoir knickers (hot pink sexy knickers that cover my bum and have ruffles trimmed in black) and my black mesh vest. I do not have a booty call and there is no man here to give me a rub down. It's just me, myself and I, chilling after a killer of a week at work and a week of wonky walking. It's lovely.

There have been at least 5 moments this week when I mentally jumped on my desk at work and screamed my head off to vent my frustration, and I am convinced that I am losing my marbles. I couldn't get out of work fast enough this evening and all I had a date with was the Tesco delivery man with all of my groceries!

I heard from The Artist Formally Known as The Contender (TAFKTC) a couple of days ago (yes I forgot) both on email and then on the phone. He's got an offer on the house that he owns with his ex and is waiting for that to go through and is looking for place in London. He did his '...' dot, dot, dot thing after he wrote this in the email so I don't know if I was supposed to react, but I didn't and instead congratulated him and wished him luck with the house hunting. He called himself 'Busy Bee' which is what I referred to him as when I finished it, and I told him that he's fortunate that he hasn't got anything or anyone to get in the way of him being the busiest man on earth.....

Mystery Guy emailed me to say hello and to tell me that he hadn't heard from me since that ridiculous date. Er hello! I know he hasn't heard from me. It was on purpose! He also said that he had been thinking about our date a lot and what a nice time he had. Re-wind! Were we on the same date? Was it not this very man that was analysing the date whilst still on it?

God I have dated some right dickheads!

My boss left today and I managed to hold in the tears till he came to say goodbye, picked me up, hugged and squeezed me tight and gave me a big kiss on the cheek and told me not to be upset with the tears in his eyes. Bastard! Ah, he's the bee's knees really and I miss him already.

And yes, it still hurts to walk, I have got sore spots underneath the skin on my face (thank f*ck no-one can see them as I'd be far too vain to leave the house), which means I can't touch anything close to my ears as it feels like someone has jabbed a needle in. Oh and I found a lump on my back. I'm alright though. It's amazing how used to being in pain you get. Right I'm going to enjoy the rest of my chilled evening in my boudoir knickers. Enjoy your weekends.

Laughing Through the Pain

I woke up yesterday morning and it was agony to walk with shooting pains going up what feels like the back of my right leg and into my bum bone and base of my spine. This is making it difficult for me to walk without looking as if I'm constipated with a wonky foot at times and I hate it. I've had this pain for a few weeks but it's been manageable but the past couple of days have really tested me.

I spoke to the kinesiologist who had mentioned something about my right side when she was working on the emotional stuff. She didn't actually do any physical therapy but whatever she worked out of me and started to release has made the pain worse. I guess I'm just breathing in and breathing out and trying to work past the pain but I hate the looks of pity when I have to start limping and it must be obvious that I'm in pain. It also coincides with my lowest amount of water intake in 4 weeks so I am frantically guzzling water to make up for it. For those that remember, I'm suppose to drink 2 litres a day on her recommendation and when I started it back then, the joint pain in my fingers almost disappeared within 3 days.

On a better note, I went to my bosses leaving do tonight which was sad and fun at the same time. I can't drink alcohol so everybody got blotto around me. I begged my boss to stay today (in a joking way) and I promised him that I would never nag him again, that I wouldn't talk so much and I would be well behaved and prim and proper. He laughed his arse off and declined the offer but that who knows what can happen and one day we may work together again. It got quite sad as he told me how much he'd miss me and how wonderful I was to work with (hee hee) and I could feel myself getting teary eyed and him too, so I told him to sh*t the f*ck up. He doesn't actually leave until Friday and I'm dreading it because 1)I'll probably cry and I don't want to and 2) I'm afraid of company speeches and I bet I'll get stitched up and have it made out that I fancy him.

I had a surreal moment at the beginning of the night when the big boss said more words to me in one minute than she has probably said to me in almost a year of working for her. I had been about to pay for a drink and she told me not to pay for it because she'd started a tab. For the next minute she gesticulated wildly at me as she told me the same thing over and over again in a Dutch accent. Her head lunged forward each time and she laughed at the end of each sentence and apparently I looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights and kept edging away from her. However it was the priceless "We cannot be drinking for free whilst you pay for drinks. I wouldn't want you to be the only one. I wouldn't want you to be on your own." Talk about dragging the whole thing out and when she said that last line I felt myself biting down the urge to make the Ali G wisecrack "Is it because I is black?" Somehow I don't think she would have got the humour....

When I told my colleagues this they fell around laughing.

I also had to suffer the embarrassment of being caught out by a colleague that I have a bit of healthy banter with. Just before I went to Egypt I went out on the razz and flirted outrageously all evening. Fearing that in my absence, that the gossiping type that media people are, I'd come back to tales of me snogging people that I didn't, I emailed my team mate and gave her the facts of the evening so that she could defend me in my absence including the line " X and I were flirting away all evening but nothing happened." Imagine my horror when he repeated that line to me this evening! Oh the shame!

I had a delightful bitchy moment today when a colleague who we snipe at each other for entertainment said very loudly to about 10 of us, "When I was..." and paused because she must have lost her train of thought, so I added in "...a lesbian". Hilarious! She had previously admitted that she's been having some weird dreams about girl on girl action with another colleague which made it even funnier!

Let The Record Play

It was a scorcher of a day yesterday so M (my Egypt pal) and I headed off to Hyde Park for the afternoon. After much debate over where to park, whilst some impatient ba-foon honked his horn at us, we decided to go into the underground car-park below the park. After parking twice because the first spot was so far away from the exit to the park, we were confronted with lots of exits so we asked this woman who kindly pointed us in the right direction. As we walked through the door, this busy-body says "The sign on the door says pedestrian exit. Hah!". We looked at her with complete disdain and as we walked away, M said "I think she's trying to be sarcastic. Does she think she's clever?" to which I replied "Silly cow" and we howled with laughter, and when I looked back the smarty pants was looking bootfaced.

We finally managed to get out of the car-park only to be confronted with a 'gap' in the railing which people appeared to be climbing through to get into the park. "You go first." I said and stifled the laughter as M climbed through in her white outfit, holding a mat, newspapers and some food. My turn next and I swung my leg through and found myself straddling the bar and fearing a wedgie if I made one false move. M and I caught eyes and we were crying with laughter whilst I straddled the bar (thank f*ck I was wearing shorts) holding my mat etc.

We spent the afternoon chilling in the park listening to music, ripping the piss out of her boyfriend (just imagine me going on and on and on about weddings, buying bridal magazines, looking at invitations), despite the fact that they're not engaged. It was SO much fun! I love taking the piss out of guys and what's even funnier is how they try to dodge the questions and make small talk about the weather. His friend came and joined us at one point, and somehow, me asking about getting mortgage advice from him, turned into him pitching me for a dinner date. I acted as if I didn't hear him and rabbited on about mortgages whilst M and her boyf cracked up laughing.

I wasn't cracking up laughing on the tube this morning though! I'm sitting on the tube on my way into work, listening to my iPod and having a read, when this woman jabs me in the shoulder and appeared to point at my bag. Assuming that my bag had slipped onto the empty seat, I pulled it in to me. She mouthed something again and I put it on my lap. Still she's mouthing something. I pulled my earphones out feeling thoroughly jacked off. "What is it?". "It doesn't matter" she says and is just about to sit down when her gimp of her boyfriend pipes up, "Can you sit over there because we want to sit together?",in what could only be described as snotty demanding tones. It wasn't really a question, it was a statement, a demand.

I think my expression was set to stun and as I got up to change seats, my bag fell on the ground along with my cardigan. "Oh f*ck!" and when I finally sat down and ignored all of the curious glances, he says "Thanks" in a very insincere manner with poor eye contact. I didn't say anything and focused on my book and my music. I think I changed seats because they embarassed me into it and I didn't have the energy to be rude to them in front of everyone. Can you imagine how annoyed I was when I had to put up with what could only be described as him mauling her every 2 friggin seconds, with his hand brushing me from time to time? The oddest thing was her body language: she sat all prim and proper whilst she held her hands firmly together on her lap. He was kissing her, hugging her, squeezing her and touching her hands and hair.

Call me a bitch if you want to, but just because you're in a couple, doesn't mean that you have some God given right to demand that I change seats. Is your demand for intimacy so bad that you can't survive a ten minute journey? Do you think that being part of a couple means that you get to automatically sit together on a tube crammed full of people? Do you really think I want to see you slobber all over someone's face and touch a woman that is very obviously uncomfortable with such public displays of 'affection'? I wasn't the only one looking annoyed and the woman looked visibly embarrassed. Good!

I had another session with the kinesiologist this evening but after just over an hour, my body pretty much refused to cooperate further. I could feel my body saying no and will have to wait till my next session and will hopefully detox then. It focused on inflammation (my body is full of it) with particular emphasis on my kidneys and spleen (last year it was very enlarged and probably is now) and the age that came up was 13 years and 9months and she said it was something to do with my father. I have a suspicion that I know what it is, but whatever it was, it took her ages to work out of my system and my body seemed to shut down afterwards. I feel positive though and I do feel like she is making a lot of sense regarding what may be triggering my disease. She described my life as a tape or a record and that when something traumatic occurs, it leaves a scratch on it. I think my record is skipping a lot.....

Titbit of news: I have been beavering away for a few weeks working on getting my other site perfect and adding in lots of lovely new sections and giving a new look. Thanks to the wonderful Daily Sketch who has been setting up a content management system which is great for article driven sites like what I am planning, I am not very far away from being complete. The new version is not up yet so you won't see any changes yet. The site will be open up to other bloggers to write articles for it, some of whom have been enlisted already and submitted some great pieces. Now I am very aware that a number of people have been very loved up/busy/traveling/playing with themselves but if you are interested in writing for the site, check out the notice on the frontpage and drop me an email.

Editors note: I just checked out what The Daily Sketch has done for me and was so shocked and overwhelmed I actually had tears in my eyes. Thank you Sketch! x And no it's not uploaded yet!

NML's House of Chat Up Horrors

I headed out to one of my regular haunts with my friend M whom I went on holiday with to Egypt. We expected to be dancing but the music was dire last night with no continuity between songs and lots of formulaic hip hop and R&B. True to form though, we still managed to have a laugh taking the piss as usual.

As soon as we arrived, I bumped into a guy that had chatted me up a few weeks ago and pretended to be French the last time we were at this club. Whilst his chat up had been 'unique', I wasn't interested in him the last time we met, and I wasn't interested last night, yet he acted as if we were all old friends and his gang of friends kept looking over at me all night as if expecting me to come loping over. M thinks that they think I'm playing hard to get. I don't play hard to get. If I'm interested, I'm interested. If I'm not, I'm not. It would be foolish to make the mistake of thinking that I'm avoiding you because I'm being coy. I'm avoiding you because I don't want to talk to you!

We spent some time downstairs dancing but guy after guy seemed to think that it was standard behavior to stand right in front of me, practically backing me into the wall. Unless you're made of stone, it is near impossible not to realise that you are practically standing on someone, particularly if you're over zealous and my tits are now being pressed by your back. I thought it was accidental the first time, but when it had happened several times and there was more than enough room to move, I felt pissed off and gave the offender a gentle nudge forward. How the f*ck am I supposed to spot potential totty if I've got some gimp blocking my view?

This club seems to have no concern about the number of people entering the club, so when it started to turn into a sweat box, we headed upstairs to the bar. The great thing about upstairs is that you get a good view of the guys coming in and out. The downside is that as guys come walking in, they try to make eye contact or come out with crap chat up lines that you have to give a tight smile to as if you've overdone it with the botox.

We managed to get a couple of seats at the bar which only attracted more guys that wanted to chat whilst ordering their drinks. Even worse, asking us to get the attention of barmen! The cheek. One of the worst things that you can do with me is make a sexual reference within minutes, or even seconds of speaking to me. It also irritates me that because I'm black I have to give my family tree of information to qualify my origins. I appreciate that people are interested but half the time you can't win with the information you give.

The Irritant: Where are you from?
NML: I'm from North West London.
The Irritant: But where are you from from? (Here we go and my brain starts yawning)
NML: I'm Jamaican Chinese.
The Irritant: Have you ever been to Jamaica?
NML: No I haven't.
The Irritant: That's a shame. I can't figure out your accent although the Jamaican Chinese thing explains your exotic look.
NML: I was born in England brought up in Dublin.
The Irritant: As in Dublin Ireland? You're from there! (I am not even hiding my boredom or irritation) You sound very commanding. I love your voice! I bet you're a manager or something. What do you do?
NML: I'm a client manager for a publisher.
The Irritant: God I love that voice and your look. What's your name? I'm 'The Irritant'.
NML: Hi 'The Irritant'. I'm NML.
The Irritant: Wow I love that voice. I bet you know how to keep a man in control. I bet you'd know how to dominate me. Say my name again for me. I like the way you say it.
NML: Er, I'm not a sexline and if I was you'd owe me a lot of money right now. Anyway...(and I turn away)

M and I had a good giggle all evening and when I told the tale of The Irritant she was cracking up laughing. I made that noise that you get on gameshows when you've got the wrong answer. M, with her usual quick wit did a Family Fortunes impression (gameshow where a hundred people are surveyed for their responses to a question and the contestants have to guess what the top answers were, which has hilarious results) 'And our survey says..e' was followed by the noise when guys said silly stuff to us.

'With moves like that in the chair you should be dancing against me!' says one guy, sporting combats, Nike sandals, a 1980s stonewash jacket and sunglasses.
'That's ok. I think I'll just stay in my seat.....' I reply.

We stayed for a few hours, but the music didn't improve and neither did the talent. I got up to go the bathroom and I had to seriously wonder if it was some sort of candid camera setup, because as I walked to the toilet, I saw guy after guy from the past, who had either chatted me up, or I'd given fake phone numbers to, and I also spotted a guy that I exchanged a few calls with and then had to ease out of my life with a 'cruel to be kind' text. M was waiting for me at the bar, so I kept my head down to avoid the looks of recognition crossing their faces and prayed that I would escape without having to talk to anyone.

It was like NML's House of Chat up Horrors! In the bathroom, I prayed that I'd make it back to the bar without being nabbed, and vowed never to take the piss out of a guy ever again to myself, with my fingers crossed of course. When I headed back upstairs, I did my best to ignore the sneaky touches of my bum, the attention grabbing tugs at my arm and kept my eyes focused straight ahead. When I returned to the bar, the guy that I'd given my seat to starts trying to chat me up. I gave him the friggin seat, wasn't that enough?

M tugged at my arm 'They're filming with cameras in here. Lets go.' I followed her out the door feeling confused as I couldn't see any camera crew. Turns out that she meant that the guy in my seat and his friends, were filming girls on the sly with their camera phones. They had been trying to get me on camera along with the various cleavage shots that they'd acquired over the evening. They're lucky I didn't twig what they were doing when I was in the bar, the bloody perverts!

I have my next session with the kinesiologist on Monday after work so I feel excited and apprehensive as God knows what digging she's going to do into the skeletons in my closet. I seem to have a summer cold which has left me feeling pretty crap, and it's been a struggle to walk about today which means it's touch and go for heading out tonight. Fortunately I love chilled nights in (I have the Best of Luther on at the moment) and no doubt a night of scary people auditioning to be popstars that don't make it, plus some catching up on Series 4 of 24 and Six Feet Under shall follow. Enjoy your weekends.

Again, my thoughts and prayers are with all of those affected by the events Hurricane Katrina. I am shocked at Bush's behavior although I shouldn't be really. It amazes me that he has no problem getting troops out to Iraq, yet he has struggled to get them to people who desperately need it in his own country. They can find Saddam thousands of miles away in some secret shitty tunnels but they can't find their way to rescuing their own people, in their own country. It's the US for Gods sake, which has vast amounts of food and shelter - it is not a 3rd world country in Africa although looking at the pictures in the press, you wouldn't know it.