Busy Bee - That's Me

I know, I know... how on earth can I be busy when I'm at home with an 8 month old who basically sits where I put him until I pick him back up again - or until he loses his balances and topples over. But, let me tell you, I am busy!

The Little Man keeps me busy even if he's on the floor playing with a toy ... or his own toes. It's sort of the same thing to him. and I have stuff to do for the wedding, christmas presents (to wrap), keep the house presentable, cook, go for walks, laundry, grocery shopping.........

AAAAaaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!

Please bear with me while I try to organize myself and get to the bottom of the "to do"-list. I'll get there. Soon. I've got to. Dear God, I really hope so!

Dear CIA

Dear Sir/Madam/To whom it may concern,

In this day and age when we have to think about recycling and sustainability and where a huge amount of the earth's population does not have access to clean and safe water, there must be an alternative to water-boarding the detainees at Guantanamo Bay and elsewhere. I am sure that most of the water goes on the floor and is therefore 'wasted'. As a concerned citizen of the world, I feel I have to do my part to help.

Instead of using water-boarding to get people to talk, which by the way must be ever so difficult to do when you've got a mouth and a set of lungs full of water (do you get special training to be able to understand what they say? Sort of like dentists?), I believe that you should record a screaming/whinging baby. Let me tell you, this is a gold mine. Not only is it sustainable - you can use the same baby more than once - but it's also very, very effective.

My baby is 6 months old and while he is the cutest and usually very happy and smiling, the few hours where teething causes him to scream makes me want to do anything. Hell, I'd even tell you where Bin Laden is hiding and what happened to Jimmy Hoffa.

So if you'd like me to, I'll send you a recording of Baby N crying due to teething but I am sure there are babies much closer than we are and again, we do have to think about transport and its effects on the environment. It's just an idea but I'm sure you'll have them queuing up to the confession room like a church full of catholics (slightly ironic, isn't it?) after only a little while. The water saved can go on flowerbeds to brighten the place up, it's looks very grey on television but perhaps the TV-screen does not reflect a true representation of the place?

Sincerely,

Ems & Baby N

What They Don't Tell You

Ok, I love being preggers. I love feeling him/her move around. Am not too keen on the pain in my pelvis, it hurts like hell and it is hard to understand that the pain is not due to any outer physical trauma i.e accident. But, I can live with it.

The most annoying things are the little things. Here are a few more to add to my list of things everyone ought to know.

1) If you have a Boyfriend who leaves clothes/towels on the floor, you may want to teach them not to pretty quickly. Bending down is no longer as easy as it used to be. There will be grunts!

2) Heartburn, if you thought you'd had it before, think again. It's awful and especially at nighttime and you really (!) don't want to have to bend down too much - see point 1 - as there is a risk you will have to scrub the floor afterward.

3) You're one of the bloody lucky ones if you have long arms. Mine are not short in general but when it comes to tasks such as putting on lotion on your body, shaving legs and ... wiping your bum or foo-foo after a visit to the loo... Good luck! Being a contortionist would help but that I am not.

4) Lying down. They will all tell you to try and sleep as much as possible but you should not - I repeat - NOT lie on your back as baby's weight will press on the big aorta and less blood will flow to your lower half of the body and this includes providing good oxygen to the placenta. So that will only leave you with sleeping on your side, this will take its toll and push quite a bit on your pelvis, which may already be painful.

5) eating, I could eat every 5 minutes and still be hungry. They're little parasites but "kindly" lets you store all the surplus on your body in preparation for breastfeeding. Which brings us on to the breasts. If you like having big boobs then Congrats to you! You know the pen-trick, right? Try a whole friggin' pen-case...

So, 5 little tidbits I think you ought to know. Again, don't get me wrong I LOVE what my body can do and I will miss my tummy (I can't believe I'd ever say that!!) - I just want to be honest. A picnic it may be but the view is only nice in 3 out of 4 directions.

Not enough time and too much time...

I'm sorry for my sporadic blogging of late (last 6 months or so) but I've been busy with everything and nothing and it looks as if it'll continue the same way. Time's just slipping away and to be honest, I've spent the last month or so sleeping (when I haven't been at work). Am I ill? No, not at all - just very exhausted mentally and physically. the physical bit has most of its roots in the mental bit.

We're still in the flat (aaargh!). Our solicitor has got the contract for The House ready to sign but the solicitors who are dealing with the purchase of our flat are a bunch of wankers. Fair enough, they're thorough but it's now bordering on the ridiculous. We've given them everything we have that relates to the flat but it's not enough and they make it such a chore to sort it out. Bastards.

Anyway - we're still hoping to be in our House by the end of October/early November. My parents are coming to visit in mid-Nov and I would be really pissed off/upset/too angry to handle if we're not in by then. It's not a threat. I'm just telling how it'll be.

Other than that - Life is good. There are some planning that needs to be done for various stuff which will be revealed in time. So far it's nothing but good news. I'm still in love in that sickly-sweet kind of way. If I wasn't a part of us as a couple, I'd be violently ill from seeing/knowing how we cuddle up on the sofa at night - but that's a good thing, right?

I'm too old for the dating-game and going out to clubs anyway so I might as well hold on as tight as possible to Boyfriend. I can't really think of any other reason ... ;)

Sweet dreams

A Viking in a Lehenga Choli

So this huge 3 day wedding is coming up. only 2 more days. I am looking forward to it but I am also a bit apprehensive - 3 days! Can I be sociable for 3 days or will I leave the wedding with less friends [than I already have]? Oh well, I've got some awesome clothes. Friday evening's outfit more or less sorted. Saturday's (2 outfits) sorted and also Sunday's wedding ceremony (trad. Indian outfit and accessories) and a really nice [and flattering despite my humongous arse] pencil skirt and coral [this summer's new black] coloured top for the reception.

Lots of money spent but all can be worn again - although I'm struggling to come up with a reason to wear the Lehenga Choli but I guess it can always go in the fancy dress "look-what-grandma-once-wore" part of the closet.

Have I mentioned that we're seriously looking for houses? It's scary as hell but exciting to plan doing up a house to our [read: my!] liking. Let's face it; it'll be how I want it. The Scandinavian rules the roost over the English - just like the Vikings once did (before they realised what a rainy dump this was and left for better places). I am yet to be able to tie the English one up and bring him back across to better lands but one day, mark my words, one day!

That was her told

Mom to little kid: Joey has two moms.

Kid: I'm pretty sure he has three.

In Which I Almost Got Religion

I usually go to the city centre to buy a salad or a sandwich for lunch and there are days when it's completely void of human life - just the nasty pigeons. And.... the people asking/begging you to set up a monthly direct debit to support just their charity as the "others are also doing good but ours is remarkably good!"

Some don't even respect the fact that you're faking a phone conversation! I mean, how rude is that? They come up really close [Hellooo? personal space, anyone?] and if it was allowed they'd take your card details without asking. Fuckers.

The very truthful excuse "I'm sorry, I'm on my lunch and I have to get back soon" doesn't really do it either. Then there are the more imaginative ones when trying to get your attention; "Hello, lady with the lovely shoes/handbag/pretty blonde hair/blue eyes" If you've got it, it's the best thing ever!

Whatever happened to the little "cups" that you could put spare change in? They used to be grateful for whatever you had but not any-more" No siree - they want your account details for a monthly "donation"!

When I can't help myself, I stop and have a chat with them I usually use my no.1 excuse. It's brilliant and you're more than welcome to use it:
"This sounds very interesting! Do you have a website I can look at the details? I try to rotate the charities I donate to on a 6 month basis and this sounds like something I'd like to donate to when it's time to swap."
Of course, it won't happen. If I wanted to donate to a particular charity, I would, and this without being hassled.

But today! Today I saw something that I would have donated all my money to. And my clothes as well! These guys, however, were not out to get money donations. They wanted my soul. They were mormons and may God forgive me but I thought hardcore mormons would be... erm ...unattractive.

Holy Shit! They were gorgeous! Model material. And despite their crisp and sharp suits, or maybe due to?, I just wanted to rip all their clothes off and devour them in a very un-Christian manner. Right then and there. On top of their Book of Mormon and everything. All 3 at once. And had they asked me if I wanted to join I would have said "hell yeah!" and followed them to Salt Lake City, Utah and wear whatever kind of attire they put before me.

No, not really, as I am a betrothed woman, but Jiiiiizes - them boys were mighty fine!


*The calendar doesn't do these particular boys full justice but you get the picture.

In Which I Am Waiting

It's been 1 month and 1 day since I ordered "it"* and it has not yet arrived. I'm eagerly awaiting "its" arrival. I really cannot wait.

Anyway, things are moving along in the "Ems in the UK"-world. I feel a little bit more settled at the same time as I am more keen than ever to move home. The moving home part stems from my frustration of not being able to find a nice house that isn't ridiculously expensive and only sports a stamp-sized garden and a tiny useless kitchen. But we're getting there...

Boyfriend's buggered off to the Psych ward - someone needed some medication or assessment or whatever. I might as well stay up and wait for him as I find it difficult to sleep without him there. Silly but true.

On the book front things are also moving on (please do not check my book blog as I haven't updated it with the 143 books I've read since my last review - I've kept count!) The charity shops are fantastic! £1 for a book as good as new!! Miss Credit Crunch, that's me!

And while we're on the money saving subject; here's how difficult life has become for some uf us, according to overheardinnewyork.com

Rich teen: I asked my mom to go to Louis Vuitton with me this weekend and she was like, "we're in a recession, let's go to Dolce."


Ta ta!


*"It" is not in anyway related to pregnancy, menstrual cycles, babies or anything remotely similar. I am just fat.

In Which I Realise My Uselessness

Another year has passed and have I done the things I said I would? Probably not, which means I'll have a helluva lot of stuff to do if I all of a sudden find out I only have x months left to live. And as if that would not be stressful enough.

One thing I know I told myself was that I had to get better with exercising (read; lose weight - a lot!) but that has not happened. Well maybe a little bit but not enough.

Am I engaged? I'm not even going to answer that question..

Have I dared standing up to Boyfriend's parents? Again, a big fat N O... which, I'm sure, is how they see me.

Do I speak [a little] Mandarin? Not a word.

Did I dive with Great Whites in South Africa? Nooooooooo!

Have I found something that would 'replace' the interests I had in the 'old country? Nope. Have decided/realised I can't replace long walks in the forest with dogs/ cuddling horses on a big field.

Did I win millions of £s on the lottery? It was always a long shot...

Stop buying lottery tickets as never winning anyway? See item above.

Do I find 5 good reasons each morning to remain in England? Does Boyfriend x 5 count?

Shave my legs every morning? Ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Isn't this depressing??

Swear less? Hell no!

Write one letter each week to my grandmother? I am ashamed of myself. Very ashamed.

Saved money? With all that nice stuff in the stores?!

Find a new calling like furniture-making? I painted a kid's chair for my niece for Christmas.

Have sex twice a day? In his dreams!

Do I live in a house? Credit crunch anyone?

Not getting myself worked up about things out of my control? My heart rate is constantly on severe stress i.e. being chased by Mike Myers in a space of 10 square metres...

Not taking anti-depressants? Last day of the year and I've made it so far - just.

Love Boyfriend a little bit more each day? We had that rough spot in April (thanks to Him) but yes - more than ever. So one thing that's gone to plan. Yeay for me!!

Become an auntie? YEEEEEES!

My very own pet? The Goose (in the river).

I guess the last few - more positive items - mean I am not totally Useless with a capital U but I wish they were all good ones. It could have been a lot worse though and I am very happy in respect of my family and the fact I am not on crack cocaine! I'll just have to keep working on the stuff I failed to do especially item 3, which is the scariest thing e v e r!! I'd rather eat a worm covered in pigeon poop!

Happy New Year Everyone
and
keep smiling!!

why are ours so dull?

As a result of the voting frenzy and media coverage regarding the US-elections (I know it's not the real one!) the conversations at work has been a bit more "news-worthy" lately. Instead of gossiping about whether or not Girls Aloud Cheryl should dump her cheating husband or not (the guy must be an idiot, she'd flaming gorgeous and seems to have a sharp head on her shoulders as well), we have discussed the different candidates and which one we'd vote for.

This can be a bit tricky as 1) we're not really involved in the process, 2) we get what the media decides to give us and as good as BBC is, it's not always easy to make a decision from that. Today, we spoke a bit about how they all use celebrities to get votes. I mean, Oprah isn't too bad as a supporter, right? This is the lady who got loads of people to stop eating meat and the sales of Swedish WASA Knackebrod shot up after she mentioned how healthy and nice it is.

You don't get celebrities in either the UK or Sweden to back the various candidates - and I don't blame them, our candidates are all so much less charismatic, boring and .... grey, if you know what I mean. Sure, we in Sweden had the mega-left woman who only used to wear red (go figure) but that was as colourful as it got.

I'm actually more excited over the US-election than Sweden's and UK's - I'm not even sure when they are. It's a well-oiled machinery they run over there. The elections, I mean, and we can always count on the President to be entertaining. Clinton was a lady's man and people will remember him for that. George W Bush is.... George W Bush and that's an accomplishment in itself. But God, he's got people involved in politics and whether it's to get him out of the W. H. or not is a different issue.

It's safe to say that we'll be following the elections intently and perhaps hoping that they'll elect another entertainer - perhaps it's a good thing that the present Californian Governor can't run for office...

A Pickle? Or Pick A Nose?

I had an argument today with a girl in Subway. Or not really an argument as much as a difference of opinions. The girl said I could not have extra olives or chillies on my 6" Veggie Delite without paying extra and I said it shouldn't make a difference as I didn't want 1) tomatoes 2) red onion and 3) green pepper so those three ingredients ought to outweigh the 2 I wanted a little more of.

But nooooo! "If you want extra you have to pay 20 pence per item - just like you do if you want extra slices of cheese!" And I said that there was no sense in that what so ever if I opted out of a few ingredients.

As this conversation takes place the girl wipes her nose with the back of her hand and then grabs a handful of salad to put on my sandwich!

I can't remember exactly what I said or how loud I said it but the words "filthy", "disgusting" and "unbelievable" were probably said out loud.

The Lady behind me gasped in horror while clutching her leather gloves to her mink-coated chest - she then looked at me and said "Well done!" before heading towards the door. Without her sandwich. The manager ran towards us and pushed the girl out of the way and asked me what she could help me with and I said truthfully;

I would like a Veggie Delite with extra olives and chilles but no tomatoes, onions, green peppers or snot. Please.

Sadly, I could not taste the sweet victory on my sandwich so most of it ended up in a bin and it'll be a while before (if ever) I head back to Subway...

Senior Moments - All Day Long

I'm so not cut out for this job...

2 hours into the day, my Buddy asks me how I spell my last name. I go "eh. wait! I think... Oh, I know it so well..." This remarkably intelligent response is greeted with questioning look whereupn I think "Fuuuuuuck. Didn't even get that one right!"

Last hour of day - I'm to answer my own calls with Buddy listening in and ready to help if needed. Poor girl, she didn't know what sort of new co-worker she's been placed with. We sat and waited for a while and suddenly there was a "Beep Beep", which means a call has been put through. And I go:

"..................!"

Buddy frantically mouthed the greeting phrase but there were no wires connected in my brain today and so I giggled a little before I got my composure back and finally.... "Xxxx Xxx. Ems Speaking. How may I help?"

And from there on I clung on to Buddy like a love sick un-neutered dog hangs on for dear life to a suitable leg. I don't ever want to sit more than 2 feet away from Buddy.

Maybe it'll help if I pretend to be a really cool, confident performer with a headset? Who shall I pretend to be? Since I'm already displaying Alzheimer's Light, I might as well continue on the oldie parade; "That Liberace is a good looking fellow. So manly and sexy and all...."

A Bit Too Vocal

I sat in the training room today for the last time (YEAY!) and we were doing some seriously boring stuff and after a while I started to "zone out" until D looked at me and smiled and I realised that I had been singing a song from the Wedding Singer - or a rather specific part of the song:

...somebody kill me please! Somebody kiiill me pleeease! I'm on my knees - pretty pretty pleease! I want to diiie! Put a bullet in my heeeeeaad!

I don't think I'll get a promotion this week either...

Fashion Down the Drain?

I don't work (I start on Monday), which means I have a lot of time to check out different blogs and sometimes my fascination with reading unknown people's blogs scare me. Do I have tendencies of becoming a Peeping-Tom as the whole blog-thing must be a legitimate way of conducting/allowing voyeurism?

Never mind, they're obviously there to be read so back to the main story; What really strikes me is the amount of fashion blogs. I don't mind fashion blogs at all - it's nice to see that some -unlike me - have a sense of fashion. My most worn outfit the past 2 weeks is a cotton pyjamas and a pair of multicoloured woolly socks often unless I'm wearing a pair of purple slippers (I've never been to a country where it's so cold indoors). It's not something I usually wear but it was a comfy outfit when trying to recover after our holiday. I'm much better now but the 'poison' has well and truly stuck -I love my PJs!

Anyway, back to fashion blogs, again: the girls - cos it is mostly girls - take pictures of their daily outfits and that's all very nice and I appreciate that it can be a bit tricky taking your own picture although I am sure digital cameras come with a timer or whatever it is called when you place the camera somewhere, make sure there's room for you so your head won't be cut off, push a little button and then run like a crazy person to position yourself right before the....."click" - often leading to the subject looks a little haggered and not as composed as planned.

This being said, most of them stand in front of a mirror holding the camera and then they stand in a very, very odd way. They sort of bend their knees, almost having them touch so your legs get that X-shape that no one really wants. Then they often poke their arses out, making it look as if they're trying to bend down to tie their laces. And to top it off, they tilt their head as if to look a bit coy, which of course they aren't, and pout their lips in a manner that would make Mrs Beckham herself look like a novice.

So, we're left with a pose that does look very, very strange. I agree that a picture with a person standing straight "up and down" isn't always the most exciting one but at least they don't look like a long-lost cousin of Quasimodo. But maybe that's where the fashion-blogs are clever - and I'm not - they're showing the juxtaposition of fashion and odd "body-posing" for those who indeed are related to Quasimodo - leaving stupid people like me to wonder exactly "why is she standing as if she is in desperate need of an unoccupied loo?"

Perhaps all fashion blog owners have been to the same holiday resort as me?

Chain of thoughts...

Boyfriend and I watched Death Proof last week (fan-bloody-tastic!) and anyway, there's this lap dance scene in it with an awesome song. Yesterday I "found" it on youtube and even better, the lap dance scene is on there too..

I'm not really familiar with lap dancing but it's clearly more than the bump and grinding on someone's lap that you usually see in movies. The girl dancing seemed to be doing a good job as I noticed Boyfriend couldn't divert his eyes from the screen but then again, nor could I as I was busy taking mental notes...

It could be fun doing it but I fear/know I'd be too conscious about it and would probably have to stop either from laughing too hard or being too embarrassed and end up hiding under the bed. + If Boyfriend were to laugh then I'd have to kill him out of sheer embarrassment or dump him and take refuge in the same cave as Bin Laden. He's been on the run for quite some time, he ought to appreciate a bit of lap dancing. Oh wait, probably not.

Reasons for Bin Laden not liking my lap dance: 1) I'm an infidel 2) I'm an infidel and 3) being an infidel who gives him a lap dance would make me a horrible infidel slut and he'd probably kill me for doing more than just bat my lashes through the eye-hole of my burqa.

I think I'll stick with dancing for Boyfriend, after all, he can't laugh all that much, can he? Besides, if he laughs I'll make sure he'll suffer for a very long time...

Seriously folks, I really don't know how my mind works today. I'm sure it's not normal to think of lap dancing and Bin Laden in one day. I wonder what Freud would have made of that...

A reflection on trousers and today's interview

So - went to my interview. I walked there as it's really close to where we live. As always there's a bit of apprehension beforehand and I was a bit worried about the dress-code. "Office" said the guy at the agency. "Office?" Hmm, I thought. A pair of pin striped trousers (slimming), a pink top under a black cardigan and a black pair of wedged shoes. "That should be ok" and Boyfriend agreed last night so that's what I wore.

I sat in the foyer watching quite a few men walking past immaculately dressed in suits. You could have cut bread on the sharpness of the creases on their freshly pressed trousers. "Shit!" I was staring to think I was totally inappropriately dressed when a few young guys walked past in jeans and t-shirts. "What is the dress-code here, really?" I was starting to be seriously confused when a man with the most hideous mullet walked past. Let me tell you something; the mullet was the best thing about that man. He had - I swear to God - navy blue women's trousers on!

You know, the ones that get quite tight around the ankles and gives a very unflattering arse on anyone! Even the supermodel of supermodels would have looked bad in those trousers. You could also tell that they were of that itchy, clingy kind of polyester and to top it all off, they ended 2 inches above his ankles!

I had to grab hold of the couch in order to stop myself from running after him and begging him to walk around in his y-fronts (I just know that y-fromts would be the underwear of his choice) rather than wearing those trousers. But I didn't run after him and calmly reflectd on how nice it must be to have no clue whatsoever and therefore not worry about such a mundane thing as clothing. At least he's not walking around naked and he's not cold so clothes as clothes... or??

Anyway, the interview was ok. A bit of a repetition of all the forms I spent last night filling in. I hope I did ok. I need to do something or I will end up wearing the itchy, clingy, navy blue polyester trousers that ends 2 inches above my ankles.... I fear I'm not too far off, really.

I'm not a music critic but I have an opinion!

I'm one of those people who love watching X-factor auditions. There doesn't seem to be an end to the row of deluded, untalented people who genuinely think they can sing. I, too, find the jokers a bit too much to handle but the x-factor judges handle it all a helluva lot better than the horrendous, self-absorbed and nastily rude Swedish "idol" judges - and I don't even watch the damn show. I prefer professional people like the ones on X-factor.

As we all tune in to watch a new season of the X-factor there's no doubt that it's been eerily quiet from Miss Leona Lewis, last season's winner. I, for one, thought that she would have released x number of singles/albums/videos. So, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard her new single as I'd almost forgotten about her.

I don't want to say that she's a bad singer 'cos she isn't. She's got an awesome voice but - and here's the thing - I found her utterly booooring! Maybe it was because she was/is so young but her personality (what she had) said nothing but "bland" and maybe even a bit "bland" diluted with water... Perhaps that's changed in the time she's been "away" from the limelight. Let's all hope so as it doesn't matter how good a singer you are - if you're boring, you're a boring singer.

Anyway, her single Bleeding Love suits her voice well and there's a heavy influence from her own idols (Celine Dion, Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston) + a little bit of Shakespeare Sister's Stay - and it gets better after a few listens but that's as good as it gets (but it'll be a hit nonetheless). I very clearly remember the ballads of the likes that I mentioned above and it's like a trip down memory lane... All that's missing is a black and white video of a lonely Leona in a house with long, sheer curtains fluttering in the wind from the open windows.The house is, of course, void of furniture and there she wanders around crying out her love while looking miserable - 'Lo and behold! is that a guy on a motorcycle I see?

Hmm - could have fooled me!

So not cool..

So, why do I find things to say when I'm arguing with middle-aged women/men about books and packages but get tongue tied when a cute (oh so cute!) guy asks me something?

I was standing by the mailboxes, looking through the mail (CDs) when a guys enters the foyer and bends down to open his mailbox. Then he looks up at me and says -

Cute Guy: You smell really nice!
Me: Huh? Sorry?
Cute Guy: You smell really nice. What are you wearing?
Me (thinking): OMG! what-the-fug-did-I-spray-on? I've-gotta-say-something-now-or-he'll-think-I'm-a-total-retard. Uh oh! Time-to-say-something-is-almost-up-before-it's-too-late-to-sound-somewhat- normal. Ok.
Me: Oh, thanks! It's Donna Karan. DKNY. The apple. Well, it's not called 'the apple' but it looks like an apple. The Green one. Not the red.
Cute Guy: Oh. Great! Cheers!
Me: Cheers!
(thinking): Urgh! that was sooo un-cool. So unprepared for this. When did he move in? He'll probably buy it for his girlfriend anyway. Shit. Oh well, maybe I'll never see him again. But he was sooo cute! Since when do I sound and think like a 14 year old? Great. Ems, you idiot!

Yup, and if you didn't know it; Cool is soooo not my middle name!

(Why don't I just find myself a tree, climb up it
and never come down again?)

My dongue isthill sthore...

Well, that's how it would sound if I said; My tongue is still sore!

And it's not like it hurts a lot, only when you move it which is, let's face it, all the friggin' time! If it isn't to swallow some saliva (I think the glands are producing "extra" just to make me hurt more), it is the constant touching of the teeth. I must talk a lot - even when I'm home alone...

I've tried everything, even the less appealing stuff such as gargling in salt-water. I do like salt, a lot, but not like this. Anyway, that did not help at all. I retched a little afterwards. So I am now onto the thing where I numb the darned tongue with ice-cubes in really cold water.

Picture this; an absolute idiotic looking 20-something year old woman, walking around in her flat with her tongue sticking out so it can reach into the glass filled with water and ice-cubes...

... and you have me!

Where do these people come from?

I'm not talking about birds and bees as I think I've sort of gotten the hang of that particular subject after countless sex. ed lessons in school, taught by blushing teachers. What's the big deal?!

Anyway, back to the people-thing. if you've read this blog for a while then you know that I seem to attract rude people and today's story goes like this;

My lunch and early afternoon was spent in town. My primary chore was to send off some parcels so off I went to the post office...where I was served by Mrs Ignorant-Rude-Bitch. I wasn't capable of putting the parcels on the scales in a correct way (how many ways are there?) and all 3 parcels needed to be put on the scales differently. She finally grabbed the 3rd parcel from me and 'hissed': "You have to be pretty stupid, even for a blonde, to not be able to work the scales."

Any other day and I might have jumped over the desk to strangle the bitch while smashing her face in on the desk, but not today. The weather was lovely, I'd had a nice walk into town and was, all in all, in a very good mood. But her comment made me ice-cold. So I stared at her, daring her to go on and simply said: "I want to talk to your supervisor about your appalling behaviour and derogatory comment and I want to do it now. Thank you!" The "thank you" was quite sarcastic...

Luckily her supervisor was, unbeknownst to Mrs I-R-B, standing right behind her and had heard it all. The look on her face was priceless! The supervisor had a little chat with her in the back room and then he came back to serve me. He was really apologetic about the way she'd behaved and said jokingly that she'd be put to licking stamps and envelopes for the rest of the day to which I considered saying that the stamps would probably stick to her as she was such a dried up old hag but I didn't so I just smiled and said that she'd better watch out for paper cuts with such a sharp tongue. He laughed and I thanked him for serving me and left the premises.

It wasn't a big deal and God knows I've heard plenty of similar comments but if you're working at a place where you have to be service minded and you're rude to me - well, you're asking for it!