Howya From Dublin

Greetings from Dublin peeps! Yes, I'm at home at my ma's as she snoozes away on the couch in a post dinner haze. I arrived this morning and head back at a rather ungodly hour on Sunday due to the fact that tomorrow marks my leaving school ten and a half years ago as I have (cue The Omen theme tune)....my school reunion. Recently between the discussions about mortgages, pensions, what you do with yourself when you retire, the impending babies (not mine), weddings, and of course the school reunion, I'm starting to feel very adult and I suddenly have a craving for my dodgy sea green uniform and the nuns.

I don't know what to expect tomorrow but seeing as I went to an all girls private Irish Catholic convent school, I'm expecting stringent comparisons about who's done what (that's shagged, married and career-wise) and probably some scandalous gossip. I wonder if I'll still feel as conspicuous as I did as a teenager, after all back then I was the only black AND the only Protestant in the school! I hope they haven't invited Sister Mary as I doubt that she's forgiven me for that time when it appeared that I was breaking into her room - I wasn't - we found some keys, like a fool I joined in trying them on various doors and she happened to open the door when it was me with the keys. I would have run from the scene of the crime, but it would have been a bit stupid as she would know that it was me. There was no need for line-up to identify the assilant at my school!I had a robbed youth because unlike everyone else, I could never bunk off a few classes - once I appeared at one class, I had to appear at them all. If I wanted to skive, I would have to disappear for a whole day and the fear of my ma coming down and causing all hell to break loose if she found out, put me off that one too. I will admit however, that on occasion, doing a 'Is it 'cause I is black thing?' got me off the hook for a few of my pranks....forgive me for my sins!

I need a name for the man in my life and I don't want to be a twat and be writing 'The boyfriend and I...' Any suggestions would be welcome! Keep 'em clean please!

I thought we were going to have a minor disagreement yesterday when we agreed to meet at London Bridge tube after work and both found ourselves in different places. We were both standing in the ticket hall, just not the same one as it turns out that there are two. At first when we tried to figure out where each of us was, he seemed confused by the possibility of two and he tested my patience. I thought that I was going to be irritated when I met him, but as I approached him and he cracked a smile at me, I felt myself beam back and crack up laughing. On the tube I insisted on helping him with the Sudoku and felt very proud of myself when I put a number in within moments....and then had to scribble it out because it was incorrect. Still feeling cocky, I ploughed on whilst he started on one from a different page of the paper. After a while he asked to see mine as I had been filling in boxes and as he cracked up laughing at what I had done, I snickered and pretended to sulk. 'NML, you haven't put anything in!' It was the hardest frigging sudoku that I have ever done and I had filled in 'possibilities' in the corners of the boxes! 'So.....' I said eyeing his sudoku, '...do you want me to help you with yours?' and he swatted me with his paper...and then gave me a cuddle to make me feel better.

I had just left the airport with my mum this morning when this text came through 'How are you?'....from...The F*ckwit. Am I missing something or are we more over than Whitney's singing career? (If she releases a record and goes big again after this crack fiasco I'll be eating those words!) Maybe The F*ckwit's been smoking some of the same stuff because last I heard, he didn't trade in insults and he was an assclown. Why does this lazy excuse for a human being expect me to interact through cowardly text messages? I refuse to dignify him with a response - Not only am I very happy with someone else, I don't have the time or the inclination to pander to this nob-jockey.

Right, I'm off to brave the cold, wet Irish weather and go to the pub to catch up with an old friend. Pray for me that I don't bump into any exes! Have fab weekends!

I Have a...I have a...

So I'm alive to tell the tale after getting needles in parts that normally see male appendage, a sponge with shower gel or toilet tissue (smells like roses though...). I was introduced to a colleague today who actually emailed me around the time that I appeared in the paper to say that he had been reading my blog. As I shook his hand and discovered that he had read the most recent entry, I felt my cheeks flush and a mental image of myself on the acupuncturists bed in a rather compromising position....agggghhhh!

Everything is progressing very nicely with the man in my life and I still haven't got anything bad to say. He's not perfect (who is?) but let's just say that right now he ticks all of the right boxes. I can unashamedly be myself which for some guys would be a bit of a handful, not as in touching my boobs or something, but more in the 'If you're expecting a wallflower that will lick your arse and tell you that the sun rises and sets on you, you can forget it!' kind of way. There's no having to accomodate for a weird character or personality trait like I've had to with most of the guys I've dated and it's really, really good.

Naturally every Tom, Dick and Harry wants me to label him so people keep pestering me and asking if he's my boyfriend. I think people are obsessed with being passengers on Noah's relationship ark, and nearly orgasm when someone else jumps on board. Watch as I suddenly get invited out by couples who wouldn't normally invite me out! I'm not the type of person who's a Me and My Boyfriend This or Me and My Other Half That type of person, or even a frightening Me and My Boyfriend are Siamese Twins type of person. But it would be safe to say that I am in a relationship, it is early days, but I do have a bo..y..f..oh gosh I just found a needle in my...joking! You know what I mean...

Sometimes you don't fanny around umming and aahing over whether you like someone and you just get on with it because you know you do and it's just 'right, albeit cautiously (wouldn't you be with my track record?). After 2 years and 22 months, I have a bo..y..f..*coughs a lot*

I have a fear of small bones (that's small bones like fish bones, not small penises - actually scratch that, I'm afraid of those too) and he assured me that he was doing boneless haddock for me when he cooked dinner for me last night, but didn't tell me that there is always the possibility that there will be a stray bone. I was tucking into his really tasty dinner (Why does that have a conatation to it as I type it?) when I felt the tell-tale sensation of a bone and started to panic (still more conatation). I took the bone out and was spluttering with shock whilst he cracked up laughing as I babbled on about the Queen choking on a fishbone etc and then I started to laugh and make fake choking noises.

I tried to pull myself together so I took a forkful of vegetables and put them in my mouth and swallowed, only to find that what was probably a green bean was stuck in my throat. I felt like I couldn't breathe so I started to flail around and tap him and he cracked up laughing again saying 'What?' in confusion. I grabbed at myself dramatically and willed the slippery little f*cker to either go down or be coughed back out. Eventually it headed off for my stomach. 'I was CHOKING on the vegetable you goon!' I roared. 'Gosh I'm sorry NML' he said trying not to laugh. 'I couldn't figure out whether you'd eaten something spicy or you were taking the piss out of me!'

And then later in one of our waffly conversations...

Him: I was going to say something, but then I don't want to scare you.
Me: Go on, tell me. (He eventually caves after me jabbing my finger in his arm a few times)
Him: Well I was going to say that I really like you, but then I don't want to scare you with commitment.
I laugh very loudly for a few moments.
Me: Gosh no wonder there is such massive discrepencies between the sexes. Commitment is 'Do you want to move in?';'Let's get engaged';'Let's have a baby';'Let's be in a relationship'. If every guy that ever told a woman that he liked her thought the same as you, most of the dating problems would be solved! There'd be hardly any 'accidental' one night stands!

The other men in my life, my work colleagues, have had me veering between wanting to throttle them and crying with laughter. P Dot got my day off to a great start this morning when a colleague from a different team gave him a mini-cuss in the deli whilst we were getting breakfast. Let's just say that making an innocent comment, had her putting him back in his place as it 'appeared' that he was making an insinuation. I really wanted to come to his rescue as his face went bright red and he looked like he'd rather be in a cage with a load of gorillas on his arse, but instead I backed away and started pissing myself laughing. The more he tried to pretend it wasn't happening and end it, was the harder I laughed. Note to boys: don't mess with women first thing in the morning!

I said to the guy that farted beside me on the tube this evening, 'You do know that it's common decency to say pardon?' and his whole face went beet red with the tell-tale sign of guilt and he muttered something, but strangely enough (not!), he got off at the next stop. I'd like to think it was because I called him on his fart, but it occured to me that he may have needed to go to the toilet. Oh dear...

Acupuncture: Cross My Heart, Hope to Die, Stick a Needle in My..Oh..My..God

I arrived for acupuncture slightly early so I sat on the sofa in the little waiting area. I noticed a room full of people as I walked in and they all turned to look at me. Because it's the parish buildings, I assumed it was a holy get together of some sort. As I jotted down a couple of reminders, I heard, 'Hi, I'm [name] and I'm an alcoholic.' I froze in my seat and I felt like Monica in Friends did when she was trapped in the bath whilst her parents had a shag. I couldn't think of where to go without drawing attention to myself, so I sat there and tried to pretend I couldn't hear her telling her story. I will admit that there was a split second when I wondered if there were any celebs in there seeing as it's 1)London and 2)I live in a posh area and then I abandoned that thought and said 'la la la' to myself.

When I lay down on the bed a few minutes later, I was expecting the usual - needles and the burny thing on my feet, maybe needles in my legs or back, or even my chest. NOTHING and I mean NOTHING prepared me for what I experienced tonight. If you are faint hearted, close your browser now! NOW I tell you!

After our usual chat about my well being and symptoms, my acupuncturist took my pulses (we have several) and determined that there was a blockage at the centre of my energies. She said that she would have to do a big treatment and I wriggled my feat and shuffled on my back at the thought. She looked quite serious all of sudden and mentioned the perenium, the cox (or something like that), upper gum above my front teeth and chin.

My brain started to compute this information. 'Perenium.....hmmmm.....Here I was thinking that's the skin between the balls and the bum....obviously I should have done biology at school...oh well...Cox?...Isn't that the lower back? I hope that she puts the needle in the right place because I'm sure that the lower spine is a dangerous place to f around with....hmmmm....I thought she said c*ck at first...hehehe'

My acupuncturist's voice cut into my thoughts, 'OK, I'm going to need you to take off your underwear. Do you know what a perenium is?' And it turned out that my first meaning had been correct and I think I went into shock. And yes, girls have a perenium too before anyone thinks I have balls... I became so nervous I started to laugh in a hysterical fit and it just wouldn't stop as fear ripped through me. She left me alone to remove my knickers and I restrained the urge to try to sneak out although I realised that the only way out was the window and I was desperate but not that desperate.

When she approached me with the needle, I thought of being at the gynaecologists and just prayed for it to be over. I won't even say what those few seconds felt like as I may chuck up on my keyboard, but for some reason I thought of Chris Rock's voice in Doctor Doolitle when he says, 'Somebody get me a police officer! I've just been violated!' and then I thought of the guy I've been seeing and restrained a giggle at the thought of telling him.

'Ahhhhhhh...' I breathed out in a massive sigh of relief. The nightmare is over.

'Just lie on your side NML!' she said a few moments later and I turned on my side and then started to think logically about what was happening.

Why the f*ck am I turning on my side? Shouldn't I just sit up? Weird...Oh my holy God! What is she doing?

I could feel her touching my bum and to put it quite franky, parting my bum cheeks.

'Er, what are you doing?!' I demanded and she explained that my cox was basically at the top of my bum crack. Yes for all my airs and graces, I do actually have a bum crack.

SWEET BABY JESUS AND THE F*CKING ORPHANS! I immediately thought of the last time someone had tried to stick something up my bum - I was heavily sedated after a laperoscopy and had asked for more pain killers. She told me she was getting me some more tablets and then asked me to turn on my side. Note to self: When someone asks me to turn on my side whilst lying down, tell them to get stuffed. I remember crying my eyes out and demanding that she get my mother. My mother arrived to her 22 year old daughter crying about violation and demanding that she go and tell off the nurse...gosh it's like deja vu....

And the laughter came back. Big gasping hysterical nervous laughter and plenty of clenching. My acupuncturist said she has never seen someone react like that. I needed a minute to stop and eventually I managed to calm myself for a needle going in the top of my arse. Jaysus!

The last two in the chin and gum were a piece of cake. A few minutes passed and the gurgles of hysteria stopped.

'Ooh, you've got the colour back in your cheeks! It's already working!' she exclaimed excitedly.
'Which cheeks would they be?' I replied drily.

Confessions of a Blogger

So my guy and I are alone on Friday night, chatting away and slipping into periods of very comfortable silence. 'So....NML...' I froze and thought that I had misheard him. My overactive imagination wondered if I was alone with a fellow blogger, one of the readers or something. 'What did you just say?' I squeaked. 'I said N.M.L. - you know the initials of your name.' 'Oh....'and let out a sigh of relief. 'What did I say that was wrong with that?' he asked quizzically. 'Er, that's my blog name!' and we both chuckled loudly.

Yes, on Friday night, I admitted that I am a blogger. 'Er...yeah...I do this thing....not part of my job....I'm a...I'm...a..' and he stared at me expectantly. 'I'm a...I'm an escort' and I tried not to laugh, left it for few seconds and then told him that I was just joking. 'Jesus! One more second and I would have started to believe you! OK, tell me what's really going on!' His reaction was really good and he was very encouraging, and to be honest, I think I expected negativity. It took a few minutes for it to sink in and at first he couldn't stop laughing, and when I admitted that he'd been mentioned he swooned and took an extra big gulp of his rum and coke. I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights and my whole face was flaming hot. I assured him that I haven't dissected him on here. 'Does this mean that if we were to have problems, that you'd share them on there?' he asked. 'Of course I wouldn't!' I replied (seriously I intend to behave myself!).

Is he reading this now? No. Whilst I have told him about the blog, I do feel that it's not a good idea for him to start reading now. Ultimately this is a scenario where two people have met, hit it off and are embarking on a relationship. Now imagine that one of them has access to the others diary, which illustrates the others thinking and their past - This creates a massive imbalance and personally I feel that we should get to know each other just like any other two people would. It would be like having an unfair advantage. Fortunately he totally agrees with me and neither of us are the snooping kind.

On Friday we went to a leaving party at a gay bar in Soho where he introduced me to several of his friends. One of his friends seemed very antsy about being in there so we kept touching his bum when his back was turned. 'Seriously,' I said to him. 'I hate to break it to you, but not every gay man in here is waiting for straight guys to pounce on!' Later as we danced, I felt my mouth open in shock as I watched two guys snogging the face of each other and rubbing each others willies. I tried to look away but every time they started up and the very randy one started burrowing in his flies, my eyes were drawn to them.

His friends are lovely and real 'lads' so it was like being out with versions of PDot and MSlash or my bro and the Welsh Boys. They got very drunk and tried to pull two lesbians. 'Guys, talking about flogging a dead horse!' I admonished. But they wouldn't listen and flirted away with the two of them. When they went to the bar, the two lesbians started snogging the face of each other, giving each other a few strokes. The boys were gutted to have missed out, and one of them said to one of the women, 'Do you know you're wasted as a lesbian?', so she took the drink from him and went back to dancing with her girlfriend, whilst I was doubled up laughing. Later they made a holy show out of me by laughing at two men pulling pink suitcases in Piccadilly Circus station. 'Ha ha!' they laughed like Nelson in The Simpsons. Then as we descended the escalators, we watched as someone drunkenly fell down the last few steps. I tried so hard no to laugh but I damn well near wet myself with my raucous laughing.

Last night we went out for the Bosses birthday so it was my turn to do some introducing. It's always a bit nerve wracking when you bring a guy out but we had a really good time. We watched as my boss tried to dance like a homeboy on the dancefloor with grinding and slapping movements and I was doubled up laughing as MSlash did some sliding moves on the dancefloor which more reminiscent of Michael Jackson or a boy band, but apparently he thought they were bad boy rapper moves. I could have nearly shot my boss when as my guy was returning from the bathroom, he said 'Is this the bastard then?' to which MSlash jumped in and said 'Don't you mean The F*ckwit?!' 'Oi you two, shut up! He's neither actually!'

I felt a bit nippy last night and I said in regards to getting a hug, 'Maybe I can just suck the warmth out of you?' About a second went by and I realised what that sounded like and we were roaring laughing. I am a danger to myself sometimes...

Jaysus, jaysus, jasysus!

Jaysus, where the frick has the week gone?! In a haze of work madness that's what. I am alive to tell the tale after one of our legendary stressful weeks. I making this a short post (drums please) as I have my date this evening. I still haven't even decided what to wear - I'm torn between skirt or jeans, FMB's or cute embroidered ballet style pumps. Hmmmm...

I faced the fact that I am less than 32 years away from 60 when I had a discussion with the financial advisor at work about pensions, investments, and mortgages yesterday. 'Is everything clear to you NML?' he asked gently. 'Yes...I'm 32 years away from 60....where has my life gone?! I remember when I was 5 for God's sake! Oh sorry! In answer to your question, er yes!'

I really feel like an adult and I feel like I need to do things to be secure when I'm over 60. Jaysus! I feel like life is zooming by me and I feel really far removed from my 'youth'. Did I mention that I was going to the bathroom, looked down and thought I saw a grey pubic hair the other day? I nearly threw up in my lap! Turns out it was a piece of fluff from the cream mohair-y cardigan I had on at the time....

I had to listen to M Slash and the Boss (happy birthday) talk about the types of women they expect to date and I listened and watched in fascination, particularly since the Boss expects his women to be like supermodels. You've got to give it to men: they have managed to crack the whole insecurity, sense of self thing that women the world over torture themselves with. I don't know that many women who think really highly of themselves, sometimes sounding deluded, and instead know lots of women who are bothered about something - weight, nose, teeth, bum, thighs, no boobs, too much boobs, moustache...yeah you get the idea. Guys really don't give a sh*t! Now I know why I get chatted up by so many strange guys - they all think they're capable of anything and everything with their penis hanging between their legs.

I thought that M Slash was being really nice to one of the girls when I overheard him reminding her about her coat as she headed out the door. I thought it was because he didn't want her to be cold, but it turns out that she had left the interior of her coat facing out and it has a clear button on it. I thought she had been joking when she told me that M Slash says that he can't be able to see it, but when I held the coat over him and he broke out in a sweat and covered and shielded himself, myself and Small Mad Girl nearly wet ourselves laughing!

It must have been like Oprah's confessionals because the Boss then confessed that he's afraid of fish - It turns out that he got bitten by a small fish on his nipple when he was in the sea once and his nipple was swollen for three weeks. I work with strange men...I must get out more...they can't be representative of men in general.

OK, I have to go! Have fabulous weekends! I shall update very soon! And yes, note to self: must put up photos of FMB's. Also note to self: leave dead mini fish on the bosses desk

Send Out The Assclowns

It's been one of those weeks where things are rather stressful at work and I've felt tempted to slump under the desk and pretend that I'm at home. Then I dropped something under there, realised how hideously dusty it is, and decided that braving it out at my desk was the better option. I felt rough as a badgers arse today as the acupuncture has my body going through highs and lows. I said I was going out for fresh air and some how ended up on the great bleedin' tea run! You've gotta love my colleagues - I could be passed out on the floor gasping my last breath and one of those feckers would be shaking me saying, 'But NML! It's your turn to do the tea run!' It's definitely one of those horrible deadline weeks where we don't know whether to hug or punch the shit out of each other. There have been a lot of funny moments though....

One of the lads, AA has hurt his back (or is it his leg?) through..um..I don't know...Anyway, he's been limping around for the past couple of days and all I can think is that he sits under a rather unlucky cloud because if something can go wrong, it happens to him. He must have got up from his desk yesterday, wandered off and on his return my boss said quizically, 'Er, AA, you didn't limp that time?' Maybe we were bored but The A-Team (moi, M Slash, P Dot and Small Mad Girl) were nearly puking with laughter. When my boss said, 'Walk!' to him, I laughed even harder as, AA was expected to demonstrate his walk and we were all staring to see if he'd limp or not. It would have been perfect, if like one of those sermons you see on the religious channels in the US, he suddenly screamed out, 'It's a miracle! I can walk! Praise tha lord!'

I don't know what to call the guy I went out with on Saturday but I will definitely come up with name soon. He's actually been abroad since Sunday with work and he's called me a couple of times, plus we've been emailing and texting alot. He does live in London by the way, but sometimes gets sent away for a few days by work. He gets Israel; my company send me to San Marco's - That's not a little town in Italy; It's the deli across the street where we get our teas and coffees. It's nice and a good weird that I have met an unambiguous guy that appears to be (cough, cough) available. I almost don't know what to do with myself! He gets back on Friday and we're out that night where I'm going to a party where I will meet several of his friends. Naturally MB is very excited as she knows the guy I'm dating really well so he comes with a glowing recommendation - they were flatmates in university and her ex is his brother.

It took a couple of days for it to dawn that there was absolutely nothing bad that I had to say about this guy. Not even something not-bad-but-not-so-great. Of course, he's not perfect, but it makes a change not to have to do the 'Yeah, but no, but yeah, but no..' that I normally do at this stage of the proceedings. I plan to enjoy things and go with the flow - it's about bleedin' time! I left the ex fiance almost three years ago!

It does feel nice to not feel anxious. I had some laughs with The F*ckwit but I don't like being talked at or talked over, and the constant desire to debate his blackness, or everyone else's did become rather tedious. I found myself being quieter around him and as everyone knows, that's not really me. I just couldn't be arsed to have listen to him bleeting on and being so loud. Yeah he was hot, but clothes or the exterior can disguise a fool until he opens his mouth and spews verbal diarrhea. Not to mention that no amount of clothing could disguise the awful rancid BO on that first date!

Dot Dot Dot Man (formerly The Contender) was a really cool guy, definitely good as a mate but from start to finish it had an air of ambiguity hanging over it. Are we or aren't we? How long will it be before I hear from him when he walks out the door? Isn't it weird that he's got the whole ex girlfriend that he still owns a house with? Then I binned that off and dated the overzealous puppy who played shy for the first few dates and then developed rogue willy syndrome. He also had an ex-girlfriend that he still owned a home with. Where do I find these assclowns? God I have been dying to use the word 'assclown' for ages!

Of course I'm not saying that this guy that I am seeing holds the key to pandora's box, but it is nice to be with someone different, and who isn't actually my type. Because my type, even though they aren't Bad Boys, they are unavailable assclowns (yay I said it again) and that has become a definite no-no. But I don't want people to get carried away and think that the cymbals are clashing, the seas parting and get too excited about this guy. I have realised that most people I know seem very keen for me to meet 'The One' or get a boyfriend. I don't know if that's because people aren't comfortable with singledom or whether it's down to me not being in a proper full on relationship for the best part of three years. Or maybe it's because they think I'll start writing about my sex life or something...Er, my parents (all three of them) read this from time to time. I am a virgin still... (stop the bleedin' snickering!)

Quick note: Blogger is a doing my head in which means I can't reply to comments on the previous post. Also M Slash made me mention that he dictated 3/4 of the text to The F*ckwit last week and threatened me if I didn't tell you all. Assclown ;-)

Yes, It Was Good

I had a perfect date on Saturday night (shock horror) which started with dinner followed by drinks at a late night bar/club. We talked the ears off each other and laughed our arses off all evening and I didn't get home till very late as we literally didn't realise how much time flew. At one point during dinner, I got up in my new FMB's and walked away to go to the toilet and felt myself skid and grab onto a diners chair. I steadied myself really quickly but I didn't dare look and see if he had noticed! I can honestly say that I don't have one bad thing to say about the date, and you know I don't mind pointing out something dodgy!

I feel like I got an education because as I walked back to our little alcove in the club, I watched wide eyed as three men, one after another, bent down at the bar and did lines of coke. Fortunately I didn't trip over in shock and fall head first into the coke, but I did realise that this is what posh people do in posh clubs - get off their face. Correction - This is what a lot of London do when they go to clubs. We giggled in our little alcoves as we asked each other lots of questions, told stories and also realised that the whole room was full of cokeheads. We were still in our own little world talking away, when a couple in weird clothing (she was in a top I would expect a yoddler to be in, with jeans tucked into fur boots and a suit jacket and he just looked like a bad Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) squeezed past us into the back our alcoves.

Now I appreciate that people are loved up, but these two smackheads displayed their love with a vigour that I'd prefer them to save for the bedroom. He was very clearly not able to cope with the drugs so well and she was literally holding up his head, jamming their tongues down each other gobs and she looked like she was trying pull his head into her mouth. I was transfixed! It was like a car crash that I couldn't stop looking at. I turned away and we got back to talking but the guy kept kicking out in his 'passion' drawing my eyes back to their show. She kept furrowing under his jacket, fortunately never going near his crotch, which caused me to ask, "Do you think she's looking for his wallet?"

Now before anyone asks if I'm going to spill the beans and give lots of detail about him (as in my date!) - I'm not. I've decided to behave my damn self for once and not dissect him on here. I can tell you all that I will be seeing him on Friday, that he doesn't have BO, we talked equally and he didn't try to get in my knickers. That doesn't mean he's gay or not interested, but for once I was in the company of a guy that wants to get to know me, not what colour knickers I have on, what I look like naked or any other BS. It was refreshing and I'm looking forward to seeing him, but let's just see how it goes. Oh, and yes we had a little kiss...that felt like a big kiss...

I must point out that MB, my very close friend (like the annoying older sister I never had) is the person that introduced me to my date. If one more person asks me if MBF was the one to set me up I will scream! That is about as likely as Milli Vanilli resurrecting their career!

Last night I watched Everybody Hates Chris which started last night over here and I was doubled up laughing on my own. I decided that I want to be a man for a few hours, just so I can say to a guy, 'That's not what your moms was saying last night when I was tap dancing in her drawers.'

Editors Note: 1) I have tried to post the FMB pics and Blogger decided to annoy me by refusing to cooperate, so I will do it during the week. 2) I do know that one of the members of Milli Vanilli is no longer with us before any smart arses point it out.

Boys, Boys, Everywhere

I wasn't going to update until tomorrow but I realised that it would be a rather long post, plus I have a date tonight so God knows what I shall have to say tomorrow. The clumsiness in front of celebrities shows no sign of abating. I was in a dash at lunch to return a new pair of FMB's and I walked hurriedly along the cobbles, Charlotte Church came into my vision with a cute little dog in her hand, and a guy that looked more like her grandad than a bodyguard. She was coming straight at me and I had the rather large bag of boots in the way, so I moved out of the way, only for me to do a mini trip on the cobbles. Jaysus! Fortunately it wasn't a spectacular trip but I have decided to avoid celebrities like the plague.

I responded to The F*ckwits text with 'I don't think it is. Respect is very important to me and you clearly can't do that on something that is fundamentally important to me. You need to be opinionated and right and loud more than you need me. Good luck and take care'

He responded with 'I don't get involved in insults. But it is silly. For me honesty is respect, and I never tried to be right I just disagree strongly. Tell yourself what you want about me, whatever makes you happy. Goodnight and good luck' (It was 1.30pm in the afternoon...)
And because I know that he will brood for ages and debate what has happened with his psychiatrist, his best mate and his aunt and anyone else he can verbal diarrhea his thoughts on, I text him back with the following response because it's better for him to learn than to crash through life thinking that the sun shines out of his arse.

'That's the problem. You just don't get it. I didn't have a problem with you having an opinion. Your actions and desire to lecture me not once but twice whilst making assumptions about me is disrespectful. You saw me once a week, you hardly knew me and not one thing you said was out of care for me. If you disagree so strongly about me and my life then you have no interest in me anyway.'

Game over, no credits. Of course he has no response to this. I always knew that after he had thought things through and discussed it with all and sundry that he would do something stupid like the text. Well my last text will give him something to bloody think about now!

MSlash overheard a chat between myself and MB, who I mentioned a few months back has only dated black guys and we've encouraged her to branch out. Naturally MSlash couldn't resist wisecracking about 'cross-pollinating' whilst on the phone and joked that he was offering himself to her. 'What do you have to offer?' MB demanded and I relayed this to him. 'Tell her it's eight inches and it spits!' I had to wipe tears (of laughter) from my eyes after that one!

I have (cough, cough) brought 3 pairs of boots....I actually plan to photograph my old FMB's and the new purchases...My boss nearly had heart failure when I turned up at the pub laden down with the bags. I had forgotten how entertaining he can be when he is drunk and I didn't end up coming home till 11 (shock horror!), despite only planning to go for one drink. He introduced me to several of his friends and these guys are the Noughties version of the Priory of Sion (not!) because they have their own homemade club, with them each having their own number. I have been issued with strict instructions to not say what the club entails and the name of it, and I got dagger looks when I called it Priory of Penis and The P*ssy Club. Actually it's a rather cool idea even if there is a lot of back slapping and referring to each other as numbers. I demanded that they change my bosses number to 002 (just so I could childishly call him a shit) but unfortunately this can't be done. I also felt comforted that his friends agree that it is ridiculous for my boss to refer to his muscles as 'guns'.

There was so much penis slapping (figuratively) and testosterone in the evening because I spent almost all of it talking to and in the company of men. With all that penis slapping and testosterone, I was afraid that I would go to the toilet and discover that a penis had appeared! It hasn't thank God!

Men never fail to amuse me with their constant competing, 'playfully' pointing out each others dubious qualities, bigging themselves up, comparing hairlines (or lack of them) and the urge to 'adjust' their trousers round the crotch. What is it with men needing 'adjust' themselves? Does the male species have thrush?

Right, I really have to go and get ready. I have no idea what I'm wearing! Oh and MJ's 'Rock With You' is blasting out of my iPod speakers and I'm boogeing in my seat as I type this. Yay! Fingers crossed that I have a good date!

Have a good weekend x

My Ricky Gervais Humiliation

I work in Soho which means that we are partial to celeb-spotting (sometimes 'celeb' is a loose term), and the natural thing to do is to be nonchalant and act like you're unfazed by them. That is, except for the time we saw Paul Nicholls in Pret a Manger and my colleague screamed his name out and then we gawped at him in the window. Anyway...I digress.

I am a big Ricky Gervais fan, particularly since he managed to captivate the essence of my old boss so well in The Office. As B and I walked through Soho at lunchtime, we felt our conversation come to a standstill when we realised that Ricky Gervais (and Steve Merchant) were walking towards us. B gave me one of those 'Oh my God' looks, but we did the whole 'Of course we're not bothered by celebs' thing and continued walking and talking as I noted that Ricky was dressed rather trampy in a bomber jacket, what appeared to be trackie bottoms and dodgy hair.

As Ricky is almost right in front of me, I feel the sole of my stupid boots (not the FMB's) slide on a weird patch of pavement and right in front of him, I start to fall. It wasn't just any fall either; it was one of those jerking falling to one side, trying to rebalance, realising that this is all happening in front of Ricky Gervais, trying to straighten up, still can feel the boot sole sliding, tip backwards, eventually managing to right myself, and feeling certain that whilst this is all going on, Ricky Gervais just had a little smirk. Oh and I forgot to mention that B is a few yards down the street with her hand over her mouth in shock and there are about five people standing on the corner pissing themselves laughing.

I was so startled and embarrassed that I found myself doubled up laughing with B and then dashing round the corner to continue crying with laughter. I didn't even dare look behind me and B and I were pratically choking in the street as I spluttered incoherently about my embarrassment.

I am a danger to myself. It's like I get some sort of kick out of making a complete tit out of myself by going over arse over tit.

I did reply to the doctor but I don't want to sully what's coming up next, so I'll save that for a different post.

On a better note though, I do have a date on Saturday. Yay! It's the guy who is friends with MB that I had a brief introduction at a games night. Let's hope I can manage to keep myself out of trouble for one evening....pray that my breast doesn't fall out, my skirt doesn't blow up, my halterneck doesn't suddenly become undone, that my fly doesn't become undone, that I...oh nevermind....they're all in the past now!

Rant Alert: The F*ckwit Strikes Again

I'll be honest, I'm not in a good mood as I have had a serious case of bubble guts since I went for lunch with MBF at that organic restaurant yesterday. Maybe he slipped something in my food? Joke! I've been home for a few hours and now feel slightly more human and at 9'o'clock on the dot, this text came through.

'This is all a bit silly don't you think.'

Typical me, I howled with laughter and promptly called M up, told her and she eventually accepted that there was nothing else to come; this was what The F*ckwit had to say after two weeks(!!!!), by text.

Now there are a number of things about this text that really bug me, some of it personally directed at The F*ckwit, some of it just at men, and some of it just at us (as in men and women in general).

Let's be clear here: The F*ckwit and I didn't have a disagreement two weeks ago about why he hadn't replaced toilet roll/which DVD to watch/who should buy milk. He felt that because some university gave him a degree and told him he had a license to treat people that it meant that he could speak to me like I was an idiot and lecture me about my disease and my life, despite being a practicing junior doctor for all of a wet week. He was far too concerned with massaging his swollen ego and hearing the sound of his own voice, than shutting up and knowing when to quit whilst he was ahead. He didn't care about me, he cared about being right.

Does he think that we're still in a relationship and that we just had a falling out? For two weeks? In whose planet is he living?

This is the price we pay ladies for being fascinated with a species which is made of 75% water and 25% ego.

I'm amazed that a fully formed adult man took two weeks to come up with that message. How is it that men can treat people in hospitals, close big deals, survive in the big boys world which is overrun with egos, but they can't fathom basic communication with women? I appreciate that multitasking isn't a male strong point, but that's not an excuse. Why don't men know how to apologise and why can't men admit that they're in the wrong? And why do they think that we are so desperate for their company that they can slink back in at any time? I really am not hard up for dick so I'm not blinded because my libido or lust has befuddled my brain. I haven't even missed him!

I appreciate that it's the year 2006, but back in the day you had a telephone or a letter, which was always a bit dramatic so we really had to either meet up or get on the phone. The longer we avoided contact, the harder it would be to initiate contact, so we were forced to either make contact or cut or losses. We were forced to communicate with each other as we had very little options. Now we have a plethora of options and as humans, we seem to think that text messages, email, Post-It notes etc are the way to go. Instead of getting on the phone and biting the bullet, we bridge the gap with a form of communication that often leaves things wide open to intepretation and creates more problems. These options allow people to make a tentative step which protects their pride...their ego's....

We are lazy and we rely on technology to remove the energy and emotion out of things. We are cowardly and afraid of communication, but we 'think' that we are communicating with these lazier options. If I had fallen out with The F*ckwit a day or few ago, I could let it slide, but after two weeks, I'd expect him to have some brass nuts and get on the phone if he felt he had something to say. However, if you are going to rely on these forms of communication, the least you can do is write a decent succint message.

I find the 'tone' of his message, ie the wording, rather trite and patronising, like its owner and if that line is the best thing that this university educated doctor with such a large opinion, that claims to be a poet and a writer and soooo intelligent can rustle up, he can take a run and jump.

Hmmm, I wonder what I should reply?

Old Friends

In my dream I bump into a friend and we're chatting away when Morgan Freeman appears. He is quite flirtatious and leers at me, and I smile nervously and leave the store. I can't find my A-Team type van which is taking me to a prom (huh?) and I'm standing there scanning the car park when Morgan appears behind me and startles me. At this point I woke up and realised that it was quite light, looked at my phone..."OH F*CK IT'S 8.37AM! M*THERF******CKER!"

I belted it out of bed, dialed the boss, got no answer and threw myself into the shower. I was getting dressed when I heard my phone and I had to explain to the boss that I had overslept (can't be arsed with lies). 'Oh NML! This is not a good time for you to do this!' he said in that exasperated tone he reserves for his naughty children (ie his team), to which I replied, 'Sorry! Anyway, you can bollock me when I get to work!' and hung up.

When I got to work, I went over and said, 'Sorry I'm late. I suppose you want to take me into a room and bollock me?' and strangely enough he declined....

I had lunch with MBF (Male Best Friend) for the first time in ages. I forced him to go for an organic lunch in this small cafe where his 6ft 4 frame seemed to take up a lot of space and we had a giggle and caught up on each others lives. We've been really out of touch over the past while even though he only works two floors above me and I guess we've just been doing our own thing. Weird as we lived in each others pockets for so long! It is safe to say peeps that I have no interest in MBF in a romantic way. Yay!

After work I had a leaving do and waited for MBF in reception. One of the lads on my team was on his way out and said, 'Oh, MBF called for you!' Very strange that people are calling him by his blog name 'MBF'!

Our old colleague NK surprised us by turning up at the leaving do with his girlfriend who I hadn't met yet. NK is one of my closest friends who I used to work with and then he went off to Dubai and left us, meaning that I had no-one to do MJ moves, sing with and bicker with at work. Actually I've plenty of people to bicker with....He was a very firm single when he left and now he's all shacked up with his girlfriend back here in London, which is like a sign that we really are getting older. It's always nerve wracking meeting a close friends partner as it can really go either way. Admittedly at first I thought she didn't like us but it turns out that we're a very rowdy bunch who probably scared her as she's quieter than us. Plus there was the added bonus of a nutty old flame there to make matters uncomfortable. Soon though we were getting on like a house on fire and it didn't take long before it was the girls vs NK taking the piss out of him and interrogating him. Poor thing!

Classic moment was when B managed to let herself down by falling into the table and nearly pushing a plate of food off, but somehow managing to steady herself and give her hair a flick, whilst we stifled laughter and she tried to pretend it hadn't happened. Girth (as he prefers to be known) made me almost cry with laughter with his dirty talk. You've got to love a media night out!

There was this disconcerting moment when I realised that my mates are dropping off like flies and getting settled. B has been kidnapped by the boyfriend alien for donkeys and we hardly see each other anymore, but fortunately we have a brilliant laugh when we're together. I didn't think that NK would get bitten by the relationship bug yet and I thought it would be weird, but it actually suits him, even if he's not around so much anymore as he's so busy doing DIY! MBF, well he's MBF, and he is well ensconced with his girlfriend. And me...well I'm still the same old me. Which is a good thing...I think!

Window Shopping

MB and I went to a soul food restaurant and club on Saturday night. As we walked in, we decided to get something to eat and we were led to the table by a buff Argentinean waiter. We could barely keep our tongues in our mouths and we went from planning to order something small to ordering a big meal which kept us in the restaurant for ages, checking him out at every possible opportunity. He had flawless lightly tanned skin, perfectly coiffed short hair, a model smile, muscly arms and a slightly too small waste for his 6ft 2 or so frame. I don't normally fancy guys like this, but with his megawatt smile, he looked like he'd just stepped off a TV programme, such as the very cheesy Baywatch.

I made the mistake of sitting on the sofa seat of the booth so MB had a prime view and flaunted it. It was only after about twenty minutes that we twigged that the six seater beside us which had 3 couples in it, had the 3 women gawping at the waiter to the consternation of their partners. MB decided that he fancied her and flirted her arse off with him, so I just took to drooling at him and losing my train of thought. Everytime he spoke to us, we slipped into girlie voices and probably sounded like gormless teenagers. We played our part of teenagers well by emphasising 'big juicy steak'...

When the six seater departed, we sat in silence and watched him wiping the tables and bending over to give it plenty of elbow grease. Yum!

We went downstairs to the club after dinner, stuffed to the gills after gorging on cornbread, steak, prawns and honeyed yams. We could barely walk down the stairs as we flashed big smiles at the Argentinean lovegod, but then our attention was diverted by a Hugh Grant lookalike (the only time we ever fancied him was in The Edge of Reason). Our waiter was promptly forgotten and we tried not to stare. Unfortunately there was a woman with him and whilst they definitely weren't a couple, they looked like they were on a date. We tried to check him out surreptitiously but I think he must have spotted us and was probably wondering who the two crazy black women clutching their overstuffed stomachs were....

I've been feeling rough as a badgers arse for about twenty four hours and because I felt so fluey, I came home early and was fast asleep by 4.45pm for a quick nap before acupuncture. The day wasn't all bad though as my nutbags team made me laugh till I was choking as we had a team task which we had to work on at lunch and somehow turned it into the biggest cheesefest, which included rapping (in the loosest sense of the word) from MSlash & PDot.

My third session of acupuncture was good although I just can't get used to the creepy sensation of needles in my feet. My energy has overall improved in the couple of weeks since I started, and last week I didn't feel the desperate urge to fall asleep during the day. My only thing is that I do have to be careful about stress as it does impact directly on my health and one of the things that I have contended with over the past day or so, is playing go between with my parents (mum and stepdad) as they sort out their overdue divorce. Let's just say that my patience and my last nerve are being worn down. Parents! You gotta love 'em!

Too Much Work Plus M&S Equals Single.

The week has zipped by in a blur of work and when I surfaced from my duvet this morning, it occurred to me that all work and no play makes for a dull life. I bumped into a colleague of mine in M&S (Marks & Spencer) food department, home of the singleton and we had a discussion about the food in our baskets and the desperate urge to get home and do nothing. Almost everyone I know, including one of the biggest party animals in existence, The Bro was in last night. Many of you will know that I'm a lover of Friday evenings, particularly if it involves lounging around in boudoir knickers, however when I realise that most of the people I know are belting it home to do nothing more than lie there in a post work stupor and watch fab Friday TV, whilst eating dinners and treats more than likely bought in M&S, I know it's time to inject a bit of excitement back into life.

I shall have to go out tonight with the girls and make up for my lack of activity, and I'd better wear the magic FMB's for extra good measure.

The totty radar at work saw a slight rise yesterday when I noted that I had indeed failed to notice a rather good looking 'chap', which means that unfortunately my powers of observation are slipping. You'd think in a wasteland of no totty excitement that my antennae (read libido) would have picked up on the existence of some, but I think I have become numb. Now I happen to know that there are a number of lurkers from my office reading this blog, most of them male so it will be interesting to see which ego surfaces first and tells me off for saying that there's no totty.

It looks like I will be making contact with the potential suitor from last weekend (MB knows him rather well) and I'll either have dodgy set up #4 to add to the list or something good to write about. Obviously I'm a eternal optimist throwing myself into dating otherwise I'd never leave the house....

I am a touch concerned about my ability to attract old men, and I mean OLD, like collecting a pension, has a bus pass old. For some reason this week, several old men have called out to me as I walk by them, with a couple of the leering at me. I can't even say that I had the boobs hanging out as some sort of defence for these men, so I'm drawing the conclusion that I have some sort of 'quality' that attracts these mac daddies. However they are wasting their time; I'm not the black Anna Nicole-Smith and after years of dating men that were about ten years older and now avoiding them like the plague, the prospect of dating someone that my grandad could take on in a game of dominos certainly holds no attraction.

I met up with two different clients this week and both commented on my apparent weight loss. I have noticed it obviously, and it's the post effects of not only coming off steroids after a year back in June last year, but also because I'm semi-vegetarian with the various things that I don't eat as a result of kinesiology. The first client said I looked as if I had been gymming it and that I was now toned like an athlete. The other client just said I looked totally different. I've been slim and small most of my life so it's weird when people comment on it as the automatic thing is to wonder how big you actually were. Then I think 'Stop being paranoid and just accept it as a compliment'.

One of the very positive things about having a blog, was not only making some great mates, but also having two mates in particular (Vixen and NYM - Happy blogday!) that also suffer with 'incurable' diseases to sound off to. Vixen has sickle cell and I was told by a relative that she's been hospitalised. Please say a prayer for her and I hope that she gets better soon.

I need excitement in my life. Not the sort provided by some double A batteries and a vibrator (too lazy, not that horny), but just some fun and some newness. I'm afraid that life is going to zip by in a blur of groundhog day and maybe it's the after effect of ending it with The F*ckwit, but I have realised that beneath my happiness at doing things my way and enjoying being single, there is the realisation that I would actually like some companionship. Not someone who I see once a week because he lives away, or someone that I see as and when because he's unavailable and has other dramas, or any other pisstaker for that matter. I haven't actually had a proper boyfriend for almost 3 years, since I left The Ex Fiance/Mr Brown Suit. I am actually ready and willing to be in a relationship. I wonder if this means that I will stop attracting these f*ckwits and nutters.....

Have a good weekend. I'm off for a bath and a M&S jelly (jello for Americans) stuffed with raspberries x

Big Announcements

As I walk hurriedly up the stairs this morning, I bump into MSlash who announces that our company has agreed to be sold. 'Oh!' was about all I could manage at first and then we shrugged at each other, mumbled about not knowing what it meant, made a couple of jokes, and sat at our desks. I thought that this was about as big as the news could get, and then PDot arrived, sat down at his desk, played with his hair and his face as usual and then announced, 'Oh no! I've got a big boil on my chin!'. He just had to go one better with his news......although his news made my stomach churn.....

Later as we wondered where the hell PDot was as we were expected at the en-or-mous company meeting, he came dashing back in, grabbed his coat and announced that he'd gone for a #2 as he was afraid of being backed up as he had to get a flight this afternoon. Thankfully that was the last of the big announcements for the day.

I know that people will want to know how I feel about my company being sold, but I'll admit that it's not exactly a major surprise and its symptomatic of the type of world we live in, hence I'm rather non-plussed. I can't exactly get my knickers in a twist when no-one knows what it means yet, and I actually see it as something positive no matter what happens.

I'll admit that when the entire company were in the local cinema for explanations regarding the sale, whilst I thought that the subject was very interesting, I also noted that it's only when the whole company is together on these rare occasions, that I get to spot whether any new totty has entered the building and slipped under my radar. Fortunately, I can say that it hasn't....

Apparently a guy that I said hello to on Saturday at the games night has emailed my friend enquiring about me and whether I'm single. It's nice to know that I haven't lost the magic (and neither have the FMB's for that matter) and I may even let myself get set up just for the hell of it. Mind you, the last three times I was set up:

Guy #1 tried to hoover out my tonsils when he grabbed me in a bear grip and shoved his tongue down my mouth rendering me speechless.
Guy #2, a recent graduate from the police academy, was so quiet I had to keep asking him to speak up and I offended him after he mistakenly thought he'd lost his phone, he then found it in his pocket and I made a wisecrack about him not hurrying to be a detective....
Guy #3 talked dirty from about 3 minutes into the date, and when he dropped me off, he asked me to touch him before he exploded. I left him talking to and touching himself.

Hmmm, I maybe I won't get set up.....

The security guard at my local Tesco keeps smiling at me. I thought that he was just particularly happy but it's occurred to me that he may remember me from the condom fiasco. Note to self: must wear a disguise. Note to self again: Why bother...you're not in danger of having to buy a box for a while......

When Good Tunes Go Bad: NML Gets Serenaded on the Tube.

I belted it out of work today as fast as my little FMB's would carry me as I had an acupuncture appointment. A few seconds after I arrived on the platform, I could see the tube approaching and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a tubby, older black guy, in an African kaftan top, baggy jeans, trainers and a scarf tied around his head grinning at me with wide eyes. 'Hey beautiful!' he said rather loudly. I froze. 'Hey beautiful baby!' and he gave me a funny little wave and I gave a little smile and hoped he'd be quiet. 'Babygirl!' As the tube doors opened, he started SINGING to me. It was a reggae tune that I forget the name of now, but it was loud and it had a lot of 'baby' and 'sexy' in it. I darted onto the tube in embarrassment and threw myself into a seat thinking that would be the end of it.

In front of a packed out tube he walked towards me and continued to sing louder, and LOUDER, and LOUDER. Now I'm not a very dark black person, in fact I would describe my complexion as caramel due to the Jamaican Chinese mix and I felt my whole body flush in embarrassment and my face was burning. Everybody was smirking at me amused and the women in particular kept giving me sympathetic looks mixed with stifled laughter. So I did the best thing that I could do, and turned up my iPod and buried myself in my book. I could vaguely hear him, but I almost started to forget about him.

It's only 14 minutes from Oxford Circus to my station, and after almost 10 minutes the tube pulled into Paddington and I felt the person beside me get up and almost clung to them in panic. My serenader dropped into her seat, put his arm across the back of the seats and sang his little heart out to me. I just wanted the floor of the carriage to open up and swallow me whole. Everything he sang was reggae tunes and at the time I knew them, but I think the stress of the moment and my woeful short term memory has me unable to recall them.

He asked me if I read the bible (I think you can tell by this blog that it's not top of the book pile on my nightstand) so he said, 'You must-a read d bible sistah' and I restrained myself from telling him to zip it. I wanted to move but I didn't want to appear confrontational and despite the fact that it wouldn't be such a bad thing, I didn't want to appear rude. He was invading my personal space a little, but he was hardly hurting me.

Finally the tube pulled into my station and I never got up so quickly. 'Sistah, you is one beautiful woman. I won't forget ya, eh. Ja!' and he continued to mutter stuff about 'Ja' as I got off the tube. When I looked back, I could see a guy cracking up laughing. I don't know why people like this are drawn to me. They must know I have a blog where I'll write about them later...;-)

The rest of my weekend was rather entertaining. My mother was AWOL till Sunday morning, so I headed out with MB to a games night fundraiser. It was so much fun as it was a pub with various tables of board games - Connect 4, Cluedo, Blackjack, Poker, Scrabble, Blackgammon, Chess and much more including Monopoly. I ended up playing the most strategic game of Monopoly for almost 3 hours and there was plenty of pisstaking as MB actually seemed to think she was an actual banker and got high on power. Unfortunately there was no totty out (boo!) but it was great fun!

I spent Sunday afternoon with The Bro and my mum in a restaurant on the Edgeware Road that my mum loves. She had us in stitches laughing telling stories and she didn't nag us at all about our lack of love lives. Instead, she took to telling me that I needed to go to church to 'get better'. She cracks me up as my mum doesn't even go to church and I think it's just because she spent time with relatives who do. Oh and she almost had her brand new Gucci bag, courtesy of The Bro, snatched outside the tube station when we first met up. We were about to cross the big junction and I told her to run (meaning I don't want you to get run down by the car) and she mistakenly thought I was telling her to run from the thief. I was doubled up laughing as she shot off across the junction down the street clinging to her handbag. Hilarious!

We've had a desk move and I'm sitting with the whitest black people on earth, PDot and MSlash, your friendly neighbourhood gangsta rappers, plus Small Mad Girl who has the dirtiest chuckle ever. It's great craic and I still managed to get loads of work done (yeah boss! in case you're reading). Tina Turner is feeling very left out I think, as she is sitting quite far away and very close to the boss, but I think she stopped missing me when I made up a story about a client claiming that he'd seen her strutting around in a short dress with her bits and pieces hanging out. Oh and we've decided that we're now known as The A Team on our little bank of desks and you guessed it, I'm BA Baracus. Yay! I pity the next fool that sings to me at the Tube station as I'll have to get medieval on his arse!

Ma, I Love You but Zip It

My mum has been over in the UK for the past few days, although until yesterday she was with relatives including my father (cue The Omen theme tune). I spoke with her on Thursday whilst I was in a bar with my friend NK and she drew the wrong conclusion and thought he was The F*ckwit.

'No mum, it's my mate NK. It's over between me and the other guy.' Cue tumbleweeds.
'You've broken up with the doctor?' she said hesitantly.
'Well if that's what you want to call it. We were only seeing each other.'
'You can't go breaking up with your boyfriend!' she says agitatedly.
'Boyfriend? WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!'
'Yeah well if you don't want me to think they're your boyfriend don't tell me about them!' she sniffs indignantly.
'I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU THAT HE WASN'T MY BOYFRIEND. JAYSUS! I seem to recall that you were annoyed that I hadn't mentioned that I was even dating someone.' NK looks at me with that knowing look as he is all too familiar with dodgy phonecalls from my mother.
'YOU DON'T WANT TO END UP ALONE YOU KNOW!' she says. 'And a doctor as well....' I can bet she has told half of the West Midlands.
'Well he's a f*ckwit and I'm out, so I'll see you tomorrow' and I hung up.

Honestly my mother is on crack. You'd swear it was her breaking up with him and you can tell I've really put her nose out of joint.

I met up with her and The Bro mid afternoon yesterday in Harrods, a store I happen to not be very keen on as not only is it like a tourist explosion, but it's cluttered and has that tacky memorial for Diana. We had a good laugh though as she went in pursuit of God knows what in the store, and The Bro and I took the piss out of her. We finally settled down for afternoon tea and it was time to open the floodgates on interrogating The Bro about the lack of communication with the extended family and me on.....yes you guessed it....my biological clock.

Ma: I can't believe you would just finish it with him over a disagreement about your illness. I told you that you shouldn't tell guys about your illness you know. (I look at her outraged!)
NML: I haven't got the frickin plague you know! I don't run around telling people about it but unfortunately I get asked a lot of questions. Why don't you drink? Why don't you eat this? Why don't you eat that? Why are you flinching? Why are so tired? I have nothing to be ashamed of thank you very much!
Ma: I KNOW! But you should have just made something up when he was asking you questions.
NML: Er mum, he's a doctor.........I would like to think that he would see through my made up illness otherwise his patients are screwed! (My bro is doubled up laughing at the table)
Ma: Well there must have been other things wrong with him.
NML: Well I personally don't think it was going to work with him living away during the week, but to be honest mum.........the overriding factor is the fact that he's a f*ckwit.

She took it in turns to nag at us and eventually she gave up as we kept taking the piss out of her.

'By the time any of you have any kids, I'll be too old to play tennis with them! Or turn them into an athlete!' My mother is extremely athletic and was going to go pro, before life got in the way and shit happened, and then the joy of her life came along (me! hee hee!). She has spent most of her adult life being disappointed that none of her children have pursued it professionally despite us all having been good at sports. We all remind her of when she has been one of those scary, pushy parents...
'Ma, you're gonna be a granny. You're not supposed to running around tennis courts!'

As I tried to get her to hurry up and go in the bathrooms in Harrods she says 'Don't speak to me like I'm a bloody granny!'. We laughed at her and I said 'I figured seeing as you're so desperate for grandchildren, you wouldn't mind.........'

And in the bathrooms as my mum fixed her hair in the mirror, 'So what was so bad that the doctor said for you to just dump him? What has he got such a big opinion about?'

So I played my trump card. 'The virtues of medicine and steroids.'

'What?!' she says with her hands on her hips. 'Steroids? Well he can f*ck off!' and I think that the subject of the doctor is over...for now.

As we walked out of the store, she started waxing lyrical about various exes she used to hate, but all of a sudden has a rosemantic view. I told her to zip it and reminded her off all of the things she has said about them in the past and that I will put her in a nursing home in her old age if she doesn't zip it. As we walked around, she was admiring the black Tommy Hilfiger bag she brought me last year and I told her that whilst it is lovely, I have heard about Tommy apparently not wanting black people to wear his clothes and not to buy anymore stuff. Somehow she must have misheard me, because she said 'Tommy Hiln*gger doesn't want black people to wear his clothes?!' and I nearly wet myself laughing. My mum is inadvertently funny.

Naturally The Bro and I are both mad at her because she got us to clear our diaries for the weekend and has been kidnapped by relatives that she hasn't seen for ages. She didn't come home last night and didn't even phone and The Bro was livid this morning as he woke up at 3am on the couch after waiting up for her. She is still AWOL and is now not answering her phone, and The Bro is bending my ear, and now I'm cheesed off with her. Now I know how my parents felt when we used to disappear or not come home. How things change!

In another example of parents not listening, 'I was reading your site this morning' my dad says to me on the phone yesterday. 'WHAT DID I TELL YOU? You could read the article, not the blog!', to which he replied 'Hmm, I don't remember that....Anyway, I'm really enjoying it. Very funny!'

As I walked down the road last night, I had flashbacks of recent blog posts and kept stopping in shock. I wonder how much he'll be laughing soon....

The F*ckwit Has a Name. Yeah, It's F*ckwit.

I think it's safe to say that things with the doctor are over. I spoke with F*ckwit this evening and whilst I didn't expect him to rollover and apologise, I did expect that he would realise that enough had been said and agree to disagree and respect my opinion. Instead he chose to lecture and preach to me again on HIS opinion on alternative medicine and how he was 'sick of people like this' who don't have any balance about medicine. He went on and on and one for over 30 minutes and despite the fact that I made it very clear that I did not appreciate how he spoke to me on Monday and that I felt enough had been said, he just couldn't leave it at that.

My disease isn't something that I can just take off and leave behind in my flat when it suits me. It unfortunately comes part and parcel with me, and the people who I consider to be friends, my family and certainly the man that I am dating need to respect that and accept it, and it doesn't mean that they can't have an opinion that differs to mine. I am making the choices that suit me. My treatment and the avenues I pursue are personal to me, and quite frankly, I don't want to be lectured on people being stuffed with immunosuppressants, people that die, and being told that it's OK for me to do what's best for me and that if I want to think that my alternative therapy is helping me, then I should go on thinking that. I mean, how bloody patronising is that?

I didn't choose to have this disease and treating me like I'm an imbecile that has been kidnapped by some voodoo kings is rude. He has not spent ONE day with this disease. I've been traipsing in and out of hospitals for over two years and I have been sick for almost four. I had eye specialists when I thought I was gonna end up losing my sight, I've got more doctors than I can shake a stick at in the chest clinic, plus a dermatologist, plus my own GP, plus the kinesiologist, plus the acupuncturist. Trust me, I have balance.

The way he spoke to me both today and on Monday was as if I had personally offended him because I didn't put 100% investment in medicine.

I don't need someone who just wants to hear the sound of his own voice and doesn't know when to take off the white coat and be human. He fails to understand that the reason that I am pissed off with him isn't because he has an opinion; it's because of the way he spoke to me through lecturing and preaching, his inability to know when to quit, his assumption that his opinion is actually that important to me, him patronising me about my choices, and his complete inability to be supportive because he's too busy trying to prove his medical knowledge.

When I phoned him on Monday, I was calling to catch up with the man that I've been dating and to have a friendly conversation. I didn't have a f*cking hotline to the spokesperson for the NHS and every other health system in the world. Sometimes you just need to be a friend. You don't have to be right. You don't have to ram your opinion down someones throat. You can just be supportive. There is nothing that he said that couldn't have been said in under five minutes.

I told him straight that if he thinks that because he rolls up to London once a week and talks a hell of a lot, that it gives him the right to make assumptions about me or speak to me in this manner, it doesn't. It seems that I struck where it hurts because he got angry when I told him that his need to control every situation and spout his opinions is annoying and it won't kill him to let someone else speak for half of the time. He claims he's been accused of this several times and it's all lies and that he had been monitoring the conversation and I had been talking. "I think it's safe to say that there is nothing else left to say" I said, in disbelief that he could be so childish. "I..er..ok" he said. "Bye" I said and I hung up. What a f*ckwit!

So that's that. Am I upset? A little, but that's more from frustration. I had my doubts, particularly with him living away during the week and me being bored by that already. I don't think I have been too harsh on him although I'm sure people will tell me if they disagree! And that's ok!

I seriously need a taste transplant when it comes to men. I think I'm a danger to myself. I really need to stop being around self-obsessed unavailable men. My mother is going to have heart failure when she finds out that I've binned off the doctor, particularly since she is over here visiting family at the moment and has probably been saying far too much....

Is there a guy out there for me? Sometimes I wonder......Ah well! Time to jump back in the saddle!