Move it or Lose it.

Hello to all you slow walkers, wanderers and dawdlers out there. PLEASE GET OUT OF MY WAY! Now I don’t know about you but when I’m walking it’s generally because I want to get somewhere. On time. If I wanted to ‘go for a walk’ then I would go to the fucking countryside with a dog. You don’t need a car to get road rage.

There appears to be several different categories of slow walkers: Firstly, you’ve got the golden oldies. They actually can’t help it because they’re nearly 80 and their hips don’t swivel like they used to. I have the most patience with this type. I’m always a bit wary when I overtake them too and tend to approach it the same way as I would a horse (extremely wide berth, those things have legs that kick!) as I don’t want them to think I’m going to attack them. Oh look at her, isn’t she sweet. What a lovely little old lady. That’s probably what most people think but all I see is a slow moving blockage in aisle ten. Sorry if that’s your grandma, but she’s slow. Too slow to be walking the streets during lunch hour holding up the rest of the world trying to grab a sandwich. She would not last 10 minutes on the streets of London.

Mothers with buggies. And their snotty offspring who, although I’m pretty sure can only see legs in their eyeline, still insist on running towards said legs at any opportunity. I get that they are entitled to shop just as much as the rest of us, but they need to show some consideration for others around them! One time I witnessed a woman walking with her toddler 100m apart from each other down the high street. Nobody wanted to walk through the gap for fear of breaking the invisible bond between mother and child and so about 20 people all held back while little Albert toddled down the hill.

Tourists. I understand that if you’re exploring an area you want to take your time and really soak everything up. However, my patience wears thin when I’m trying to get past 10-15 foreign students taking photo’s of a brick wall. It’s like weaving through zombies except that instead of bites I’m more wary of huge rucksacks and cameras.

The undecided. Dealing with this type requires you to morph into some sort of pavement ninja. They’re unpredictable and can stop to lie their laces or change direction at any time. Possibly the most irritating as because they fit into the crowd they can go undetected until BAM you walk into them.

So there you have it. Please show a little consideration for others when you’re walking around, if you can’t handle the pace of the street then move to the slow lane at the side. Check your blind spots before you change direction and keep small children with you at all times. Rant over.


I Got it from my Mama

A little list of things I’ve learnt from Mother Bear over the years…

1. Never write in red pen

I think I was about to scrawl in a birthday card for a friend before my mum stopped me and told me it was rude and that using red pen is like shouting..

2. If you’re cold, kick..

Think I was around 9 and I was moaning about being cold in bed so she told me to kick my legs really hard ’til I warmed up. I’m glad I’ve discovered blankets since then or sharing a bed with boyfriends would be a little awkward.

3. Putting shoes on a table is bad luck (although kicking the table with said shoes when you’re angry is fine)

4. You can’t take a gift back

So think very carefully before giving your favourite thing away..

5. If you have a nose bleed whilst driving it’s perfectly acceptable to grab a tampon from the glove compartment and shove it up your nose.

6. You’re never too old to snort when you laugh or pretend to flash the neighbours

7. Don’t look in the mirror when you’re crying (unless you’re doing it for dramatic effect and need to cry more)

8. An iron is an uneccesary household appliance

All you need to do is get the clothes out of the washing machine, shake them like a polaroid picture then blast them in the dryer. Jobs a good’un.

9.  It’s possible to be too independent; it’s okay to ask for help sometimes

10.  When performing interpretive dance, you must keep a straight face so people don’t know if you’re joking.

11. A woman should wear heels everyday 

The sight of flat shoes/UGG boots makes her want to throw up/ROFL. I’m tempted to take home a pair of these bad boys just to see her reaction..probably akin to me bringing home Hitler as a boyfriend.

“Every time I think my life’s a bit shit…”

Today, is a shit day.

Who knows why? The things that usually perk me up aren’t working-the Sun is shining and I have nearly the whole day off to enjoy. I’ve already tried Michael Mcintyre and Karl Pilkington as comedy remedies but alas..I am in a bad mood.

I’m annoyed that I’m wasting the day inside when it’s so sunny outside and I live near the beach. I want to go out and make the most of it but at the same time I just don’t want to leave the flat.  I’m restless. My head is full of doubts about..ooh pretty much everything!

I know I’m not alone. People, yes usually females, are always complaining of ‘bad hair days’ or ‘fat days’ where you generally just want to hide under your duvet until the day has gone. That’s the important bit right there-they come and go. I know that tomorrow everything I’ve been worrying about today will have vanished somewhere and I’ll feel even more annoyed for wasting the day.

Some people aren’t so lucky though and they feel like this every day. Some people have genuine reasons for their bad days and yet manage to pick themselves up and get on with it.

This quote pretty much sums up my thought’s on this

“Every time I think my life’s a bit shit, I think about that girl who got her face bit off by a chimpanzee…”

There will always be people who are better off than you-they look better, they’re funnier, they have more friends, they have the job you get the picture. At the same time, there will always people who aren’t as lucky as you. All over the world, people are dealing with issues a LOT worse than you. It really puts things into perspective.

So, remember when you feel down there are hundreds of people out there who would love to be you for a day. When you’re looking up at someone you admire; remember someone, somewhere is looking up at you. If you’re not happy with something in your life only you can change that. So get off your arse, get dressed and GO DO SOMETHING!


Breasts, Tits, Boobies, Bangers, Bazookas, Honkers, Hooters, Milk jugs…

Whatever you want to call them every man and his dog seems to have an opinion on them because they’re everywhere! Top shelf magazines, bad pornos and absolute monsters like Jodie Marsh have got the majority of the country thinking that ‘Bigger is better’ and consequently you don’t have to look far to find a documentary about some girl wanting a boob job.

Why are they so fascinating to men? Their mums, aunts, sisters, grandmas have them. Hell, even some of their dads have them. I suppose you could argue that its because they don’t have them but I don’t have a dick and yet I don’t feel the need to buy a magazine full of photos of them.

I typed that question into google and came up with a lovely quote from someone on Yahoo Answers:

Why do we like breasts? Cause there warm and snuggly, bouncy an soft freindly and cute,playful,kissable hot an nasty, pointy and happy,round and curvy,squeezable and theres two of them! Usually.

So there we have it: they like them because they’re boobs! The appalling use of spelling makes my eyes bleed, but more on that in another post.

I get comments from both males on females which generally go along the lines of ‘OH EM GEE your tits are huge’. What, do they think I haven’t noticed them yet?! I am fully aware that I have a pair. And yeah they jiggle when I walk. They first made an appearance when I was around 12 I think and so now, 9 years later, its safe to say I’m used to them. I’m not shy of them and I’m not really bothered by comments but what does PISS ME OFF is when complete strangers think its okay to openly stare or comment. I know someone who said that some guy ran up to her in a club, grabbed them and said ‘Oooh you don’t get many of these to the pound do ya?!’ And they say romance is dead…

Being around 5’3 most men have a birds eye view of my cleaveage and cor do they take advantage of that. My reaction flickers between being outraged when my boobs are being talked to and finding it quite amusing how much power these ‘fun bags’ unleash.

A few months ago Rihanna was seen wearing this necklace:

Fuck you

I want it for angry days. That way, when someone is too busy NOT looking at my eyes then I won’t have to waste my breath. They all get their comeuppance though… only last week, I was walking through town and some guy was too busy peering down my top to look where he was going. He tripped up, dropped his phone and hopefully smashed the screen into a million pieces. Now that put a big old grin on my face and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from shouting ‘HA!’.

What the H am I doing?

Why am I blogging? I don’t really know..yet.

Urban dictionary‘s top definition of a Blog is as follows:

January 11, 2005 Urban Word of the Day
Short for weblog.
A meandering, blatantly uninteresting online diary that gives the author the illusion that people are interested in their stupid, pathetic life. Consists of such riveting entries as “homework sucks” and “I slept until noon today.”

My first thoughts on Blogs were something along the lines of ‘Why do these Fuckwits think anyone gives a shit about their day to day lives?’

And to be honest, I still do think that there are hundreds of people out there who are sharing far too much mind-numbingly boring information to complete strangers. This is where I work, this is where I live, this is what I like to eat, this is a photo of my ikkle puddy cat Mr SnugglePuss wearing a hat…you get the idea. They are basically advertising for a Stalker, or at least they would be if their content didn’t cause potential stalkers to poke their own eyes out with a stick out of boredom.

On the other hand, I do often come across little gems hidden underneath the shit. These rarer breeds are like my own caffeine fix (FYI stalkers I hate coffee with a passion), they give me a little boost because they make me laugh/smile/cry and I enjoy reading them.

So to conclude…I don’t know why I’m blogging. I think I’m going to use it to write down all my rants and raves; the things that piss me off (slow walking people, people who can’t spell, people who leave the freezer door open in supermarkets…more on those later) and the things which make me happy or ”LOL/ROFL/LMFAO’ (Karl Pilkington, the sun, waking up just before my alarm, seeing a man drop and smash his phone because he was too busy looking down my top to watch his step etc etc….) I understand that this pretty much contradicts my own opinions on blogs but so what, sue me.

I won’t pretend that my posts will be deep, meaningful explorations into the meaning of life but I solemnly swear that I will not be posting any photos of dressed up pets, my face from all angles or photos of my dinner. Even if one person stumbles across this blog and it makes them laugh then thats fine by me.