Normal Service Will Resume Shortly

As I currently have a very sore throat, I thought I would explain my lack of posts through the art of dingbats.

Which basically means:

 

Jesus, the New Usain Bolt?

I’m sort of infamous for my blonde moments. I’ve had a few crackers in my time which will haunt me for the rest of my days. However, after my friend’s comment this weekend I feel I can safely hand over my trophy for ‘Platinum Blonde Moment’.

While sitting beside Roath Park Lake staring out at the water, my super friend raised the following brainteaser:

“Do you think if you ran fast enough you could make it to the other side?”

After a moments reflection the unanimous response was “NO!”

Undeterred she continued, “No, but I mean if you ran really really fast?”

My husband replied “You know in the Bible when Jesus walks on water? I don’t think they meant us to interpret that as ‘he was a really good athlete’”

Bring On The Men

I’m not sure what happens to Cardiff in the sunshine but it seems no matter where I look the world is brimming with hot men! On my walk to work this morning it seemed that every man walking past me was straight out of a page in GQ.

My very understanding hubby won’t mind this new development too much I suspect. He’s found me ogling him too many times too mention! But after pondering this stroke of luck for the last hour or so, I feel that there are 3 possible reasons for this mornings man fest:

1. There just so happened to be a hot male model marathon passing by my route to work this morning. Hooray for me! What are the odds?
2. I’m due an eye test.
3. The ‘dirty thirties’ have kicked of early & I can expect to feel this hormonal from now on.

While I would love for it to be No.1, I have a feeling that I’m not quite that lucky & I know for certain that No.2 isn’t the reason. That leaves, alas, No.3.

Now, on the surface No.3 isn’t so bad. Ogling young men is a good & nourishing act. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a bit of window shopping to perk up your morning walk. However, as I have discovered this new hormonal me has its drawbacks. Take it from me people; it’s an oddly humiliating & grounding experience to find yourself stopped in the middle of the road licking your lips at the guy that stopped to let you pass.

Curse these mortal longings of mine!

Happy Fecking Birthday!

What do you get the kid who has everything for their birthday?  Apparently a heart attack, at least so the Swiss believe.

Dominic Deville is an entertainer who is hired by parents as a birthday 'treat' for their child.  Not only does he look like something out of a horror film but he actually stalks the child for a week before it's birthday leaving threatening notes, texts & prank calls!  The culmination of this week of 'fun' is a cake in the child's face.  So, nothing remotely sinister about that then!  Seriously, read the article in today's Metro.  It has to be read to be believed.  You can check out the article here. 

Now call me old fashioned  but I'm just not sure an evil stalking clown is what I'd been getting my (theoretical) child for it's birthday.  A pram or a bike perhaps might be more appropriate, however what do I know I'm not a parent?  

They say parenthood changes you.  What I didn't know is it turned you into a twisted psycho who thinks that a lifetime of counseling is a suitable birthday gift!!!*

All I can say is thank God this guy wasn't around when I was growing up.  I have a feeling my parents would have liked the idea.

* I know there are a LOT of exclamation marks in this blog post.  However I do feel it warrants a few more !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Equal Opportunities

Just come across this lovely advert for a Production Trainee at Channel 4.  It's opens with the line:

 "Disabled? Talented? It’s a win-win."

Umm i'm not sure they've quite gotten the hang of this equal opportunities malarky!

It's Back!

Bout ye!  Some exciting news for anyone from Northern Ireland or Scotland.  It seems that due due to popular demand (probably by out of work dentists) someone has seen fit to re-release Creamola Foam!  Creamola Foam for fecks sake.  Now rebranded as Kremola Fizz, this is indeed exciting news! 

For many years now I've been talking to my Welsh counterparts about this mythical product and they all thought I had lost my mind. Well it seems the good Lord in his wisdom has taken heed of my plight and bestowed the recipe on some lucky sod.  This time around though he also gave the bugger some business acumen as at £4 a tub nostalgia isn't cheap!  

I have many fond memories of this stuff however.  I remember slurping it from the glass before it exploded, the lovely fragrant scum left behind afterwards and lets not forget the ultimate endurance challenge, a spoonful straight from the tub!  Needless to say I'll be ordering my first tub shortly! 

I wonder if it will live up to my expectations? You can read more here.

No Strings Attached

It seems you can get almost anything delivered to your house these days. Anything from alcohol to cigarettes, roast dinners and umm tampons!?

Yes Ladies, thanks to 'Trinkets', you can now have a 'discreet' box of tampons dropped through your letterbox every 4 weeks as a beautiful reminder that you are about to go through hell or as the website prefers to puts it:

'Trinkets tampons will make you feel good about your period. Period!'

Make me feel good about my period? Really? I'm sorry but no amount of pretty packaging & soft pastels will make me feel happy that I'm about to shed my innards & have my entire body racked with stabbing pains, not to mention of course just generally feeling gross & devil like. Forget all that though ladies, look, cute packaging! See, now isn't that better?

Actually this isn't even the most nauseating marketing spiel I've encountered for tampons. Moxie wins that award hands down. The Moxie products are strewn with little mantras that make me want to throw up. Look at this little gem from their 'boudoir' range:

'Every day should be special . . . spoil yourself'

I'm sorry? Spoil myself? Unless there's a triple chocolate cake and bottle of Dom Perignon in the box I think I'm going to struggle to 'spoil myself' with a tampon! Oh, and in case some smart arse thinks they have the answer, I would like to add that the instructions strictly forbid use of more than one at a time.

As a smart, independent woman I would like to say that this type of marketing is offensive, demeaning and ineffective. However, as I actually own several of Moxie's 'purse worthy retro style tins' I can only hang my head in shame and tut loudly.

Alice, Alice, Who the F*ck Is Alice?

Well this week I’ve had my rather fabulous Mother over for a visit. Unlike most people I adore my parents coming to stay and we have a lot of fun. Over the last few days we’ve drunk too much, ate too much, walked too much and no doubt, spent too much. What could be better than a Tuesday afternoon spent sipping Champagne cocktails by the water, eh?

Apart from the wide variety of cocktails, one of the things we did was go to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D. If you haven’t seen it I would highly suggest you do.

The 3D is pretty damn stunning & the movie itself is just beautiful with one of the best casts I’ve seen in a long long time. Stephen Fry is sublime as the Cheshire Cat, Johnny Depp’s performance as the Mad Hatter is very touching & Anne Hathaway’s prissy White Queen made me laugh every time she was on screen.

Huge props to the young girl who plays Alice though. She was superb. I believe she was a complete unknown and yet she manages to hold her own in a rather spectacular cast. I imagine my performance in similar circumstances would have been a lot less accomplished & a lot more X rated (Johnny Depp still manages too look hot! How the hell does he do it?).

All in all it’s a fantastic film & if you get the chance, go see it, preferably in 3D!

As for my Mum, well she went home yesterday which is always depressing. However, spending the night dancing to Hey Big Spender in my latest Burlesque class helped ease the pain (metaphorically speaking. Physically my knees are killing me from ‘dippin it low’ all night).

Tonight I’m off to see Dirk Benedict from the A team aka The Face as Columbo.  I like my life.

Von Teese Me

This week I’ve had my first burlesque experience!

Im going to admit that the trip to The Italian Way for pizza, mixed with a couple of bottles of wine probably wasn’t the smartest way to start the evening but who knew burlesque in a local church would be so exhausting?

Despite my bravado I will admit to being a tad nervous about humiliating myself. As mentioned previously I am most definitely not Dita Von Teese and the only time I’ve shaken my boobs in public has been if the bus went over the speed bump too fast.

With all that in mind I have to confess I had a remarkable time, superb in fact. Madame FooFoo LaBelle made us all instantly relaxed and at ease besides, you’re focusing so much on her that you don’t even notice anyone else’s arse in your face. It was such a diverse group of shapes, sizes and ages that you didn’t really care if you ‘Shakira Shake’ looked more like ‘dying for the loo’*. No one was looking and no one cared.

Supposedly we picked a particularly difficult evening to begin our quest for our inner vamp but hey, we bloody well gave it a shot. Samba Rock was the routine of the evening which was full on samba with a touch of posing.

I learnt that my grasp of basic shapes leaves a lot to be desired with my ‘boxes’ ending up more like ‘triangles’. To be fair though I feel my ‘triangle’ trumped my poor friends ‘pentagon’. None of that mattered though. You could have done a full blown ‘decagon’. As long as you did it with enthusiasm & flare you’d make it fit somehow.

Personally I think it was a fabulous experience and what a way to keep fit! A few more nights of that and I’ll be frolicking in a champagne glass in no time.

Next week it’s ‘Hey Big Spender’ and who can say no to that?  Minus the food and wine I think I'll give it a damn good shot!

By the way if anyone is interested or wants more information check out Burlesque Cardiff.

* My Shakira Shake was obviously perfect and would indeed put her to shame.

The Joy of Lush

The other day I made the foolish decision to go into Lush, for ‘a browse’. Some time later & considerably poorer I emerged with a bag full of goodies among which was The Joy of Jelly, Sex in The Shower & French Kiss!

In these days of stringent advertising laws and trading standards I’m expecting a lot from my new products!

Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be disappointed?

Diss Me I'm Irish

Well it's that time of year again. The time of year when the lovely people of the world join for one brief moment to toast the Irish for being such lovable drunken rogues. Now I’m not complaining, it’s always nice being Irish & as far as stereotypes go, lovable drunk, isn’t too bad now is it?

What I do object to however is the wide variety of Irish accents I’ve been forced to listen to today & if I hear one more Welsh person say ‘Craic’ I will be taking my shillelagh and ramming it down their well meaning throats!

Living in Wales it seems I’m expected to be more ‘Irish’ on this day. People seem genuinely disappointed that I’m not dressed head to toe in green, drinking Guinness & weaving grand tales of the old world. Every other day they are perfectly content with my lack of Irishness but on this day, St Patrick’s day I’m expected to do my duty & show up to work drunk in the back of a police van.

Ah well it will all settle down soon. Tomorrow it will be safe to walk the streets once more. A world without Ian Paisley impersonations and dodgy Irish accents. Imagine .

Just Call Me Lany B L'Amour

Well after months of hmming & haahing I am finally booked to go to my first burlesque class next week.

The class promises to teach me some simple dance moves such as bumps, grinds, poses & walks. All this while under the fine tutelage of one Madame Foo Foo LaBelle!

Now people that know me would agree that I'm perhaps more suited to Hungry Hippos than Dita Von Teese but to hell with that.  I reckon I can strut my stuff with the rest of them.  I'm sure to be shaking my tail feather (literally), in no time at all.

Thankfully I wont be alone.  I've managed to persuade some hapless victims/friends to accompany me.  Now all I need is a Burlesque name & a drastic wardrobe overhall & i'm all set to shimmy & shake!

Forgive me world!

There’s A Man Works Down The Chip Shop Swears He’s Elvis

Recently I’ve been noticing that the general population are trying more & more to get ‘a celebrity look’. You can’t walk down the street without bumping into someone who is trying very hard to look like ‘somebody’.

I know this isn’t a new thing. We’ve been emulating famous people for years. In fact I once worked for a theatre company whose director looked exactly like Hitler! This wasn’t a mere coincidence; the look had very obviously been cultivated. Why I will never know!

Over the course of this weekend I noticed about six George Lambs, a dozen Zac Effrons & I’ve lost track of the number of Robert Pattisons that are currently patrolling the streets.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am more than happy to see hoards of any one of those guys stalking around. In fact, I think I would pay good money to witness such an event. My problem is simply that most of these wannabes don’t look anything like those guys & trust me, if you don’t get that Rob Pattison or George Lamb hair exactly right, you’re going to look like an escapee from an asylum.

What’s becoming very clear to me however is that it’s not the men choosing to do this. If you do spot one of these lookalikes there will undoubtedly be a smug girlfriend draped all over her handiwork thinking she’s created the new Zac.

All I want to say to these girls is that a skinny tie does not turn your 15 year old boyfriend into hot property. In fact it’s more than likely going to make him look like an arse. Remember, the clothes don’t make the man. Except of course the Hitler lookalike, I’d maybe stay clear of him.

Positively Pink with Possibility

Anyone who knows me will know that my husband and I have been hit pretty hard by the recession. Having both been working in finance at the time of the collapse it’s been a strange couple of years. Hopping from temping post to temping post the future has been rather uncertain for us both.

This morning my husband discovered that he will once again be looking for work. He’s disappointed but also optimistic and to be honest so am I. Something seems to have clicked into place for us in the last few months & although we are all but back at the start something seems different this time.

I don’t know whether it’s the sunshine or the radio’s great setlist this morning but I’m feeling this recent activity in our working lives is for the best. Far from being depressed and worried, I’m excited about the possibility.

If you know my husband you will agree that he wasn’t made to work in an office for the rest of his days. This is his time now, of that I am positive.

Thar She Blows

As a 29 year old girl some people find it peculiar that I almost exclusively wear skirts. In fact much to people’s horror, I don’t even own a pair of jeans. I like skirts, feel good in skirts & am unlikely to change this anytime soon.

This little quirk of mine has however exposed me to an element of nature that I had previously not even known existed. It’s an unforgiving predator & no skirt wearing person is safe. I’m of course talking about the pervy wind!

As you may be aware, ordinary wind is not a problem for skirt wearers. You grab a patch of material and hold it down. That tends to the do the job nicely. All in all it’s a small obstacle, easily conquered.

The pervy wind however is not so easily foiled. The pervy wind is cunning & has no set pattern. Also, it’s virtually undetectable. You could leave the house on a seemingly serene morning only to find the pervy wind lurking on a street corner, or more commonly, a busy bus stop.

What separates the pervy wind from the ordinary elements is simple. The pervy wind seeks out unsuspecting skirt wearers, seemingly on purpose, & without warning will whip a skirt high in the air with a reckless flourish. Unless you have witnessed this phenomenon for yourself it’s hard to understand the full impact it can have on a person.

Needless to say, this is quickly becoming the bane of my life. In fact so much so that I now take it into consideration when deciding on what I’m going to wear as no amount of skirt holding seems to stop the pervy wind once it’s started.

As an old hand at skirt wearing, I now know the ways of the pervy wind and, while I will no doubt continue to fall prey to this almost daily humiliation, I am prepared for its strikes. Now I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there is nothing I can do to stop it I’ve decided to join it. If I’m going to put on a show, it’s going to be a bloody good one.

I would urge other skirt wearers to join me in this peaceful alliance. Have a bit of respect for the rest of population. Ditch the boy shorts and granny panties. Make it French and make it lacy! I think it’ll be a much better world for it.

Dead Awful

Thanks to fabulous show that is True Blood, I have recently started reading the Charlaine Harris series of books that the show is based upon.  Anyone that has watched the show will tell you it's a sexy, irreverent, piece of drama with enough sex, violence & fangs to satisfy any gothic urges you may have.  The books on the other hand . . !  

Well with such snappy titles as Club Dead, Definitely Dead & All Together Dead you can understand why I was a little dubious cracking open the first book (Dead Until Dark in case you were wondering).  I must admit I was pleasantly surprised.  Don't get me wrong, I don't see Charlaine Harris walking off with a Booker prize anytime soon but 'Dead Until Dark' is a perfectly enjoyable bit of fluffy fantasy.  In fact, I was so surprised by how competent the first book was that I got myself the next 4 in the series.  

Oh, what foolish creatures we mortals can be!

The second in the series was readable, barely.  However and about ten pages from the end I had to put it down in shame when this Mills & Boon moment was unleashed from our brooding hero, Vampire Bill:  

'It's lovely, but you may be slightly overdressed for the occasion.'

'What occasion would that be?'

'The best sex of your life.'

Aagggghhhhh! 

 

Why then you ask did I pick up the third book this weekend?  I'm afraid I'm not sure.  Obviously some dark corner of my mind is using this series as a form of self flagellation for some unspoken crime.  Or maybe, just maybe, I'm hoping the books improve.  

That being said I think I'm really done now.  I just can't do it to myself any longer.  I've realised I love myself too much.  Oh and I have Charlaine Harris herself to thank for this revelation.  Nice and early into book 3 Charlaine gave me the push I needed to put the novels down for good.  Thank you Ms Harris.  Oh and in case you're curious, the offending paragraph is below: 

'BIll's Missing,' Pam said, shooting from the conversational hip.

'No, he's not.  He's in Seattle,' I said.  Willfully obtuse.  I had learned that word from my Word-A-Day calendar only that morning, and here I was getting to use it.

Umm yeah, someone might need to have a word with the narrator about what is wrong with this scene!
 

The End of An Era Part 2 - Back To The Future

Ahem, well it appears I may have posted too hastily regarding my previous assignment.  Less than one week into my new position and, well, I'm heading back to the last one! 

 

My lovely new/old colleagues can rest assured they welcomed me with open arms in a rather difficult time but I can't be down beat as I'm rather excited about getting back to my fabulous old/new colleagues.

 

Make sense?  No? Well, my life is never straightforward!

Horny & Confused

A few weeks ago in a very intellectual & heated debate with a friend about 'Angel Men' (don't ask!), I was asked the seemingly straightforward question, "So, what's your type?"

Now, I'm a girl that gets a lot of crushes but that question had me stumped.  You see these seemingly endless crushes of mine range from the beautiful to the downright freakish!  From Senior Citizens to frankly far too young for me to be contemplating.  The thing is I have no control over the direction of these crushes and no idea what is going to attract me.  It could be a voice, a smile, a cheeky glint in the eye, a personality, sense of humor or damn it, lets be honest, just a hot body.  Sometimes I'm left baffled at my own choices & find it almost impossible to defend these little infatuations when pushed.

My husband despairs at some of my more 'unusual' choices.  For him it's quite straightforward.  Jessica Alba.  There we go, that's his answer and it will continue to be his answer until she starts letting herself go and some new younger version comes along. I'm also reminded daily of his penchant for the the young actress by the lovely pictures that seem to have made a home for themselves on our computer (no, this little infatuation doesn't bother me, I'm far hotter than her*). 

For me however, it's not quite so simple.  Maybe I'm fickle or maybe just wired incorrectly, but just one man isn't going to cut it in my little warped world.  My seemingly endless list of past & present crushes include such randoms as, Geordie Johnson, Djimon Honsou, Jared Leto, Shere Khan, Travis McCoy, Stephen Fry, Lenny Kravitz & Zac Effron.

Having considered 'my type' for several weeks I can now confirm that I am absolutely no closer to solving the mystery of my hormones. 

So take heart men, it doesn't matter if you're a hot rocker, tattooed rapper, elderly national treasure, high school musical star, animated tiger or just an average male because some freak is probably scouring the net ogling your Facebook pic as we speak. 

*This particular portion of the post may contain information that's not entirely accurate.

Don't You Hate It When . . .

Picture the scene -

A quiet little reception, snow patrol playing softly in the background. An attractive man walks in & sits in the chair opposite you. You risk a glance from your paper & your eyes meet momentarily. A flirtatious smile flits across your lips as the music fades. It appears to be reciprocated & you blush gently. You both hold your gaze for a moment longer.

Suddenly, the music comes back on blasting the Divinyls 'I Touch Myself'. You quickly look back to your paper & remind yourself you're happily married anyway.

The End Of A Rather Entertaining Era

Well what can I say, I'm changing jobs once again. I know that's the life of a temp but still, it means a new set of colleagues & more frighteningly in this case, a headset! Still, I do seem to settle in quickly enough in most assignments & feel like an old hand in no time.

My latest role has had some fairly original moments that I feel my new role will possibly lack.

Highlights have included babysitting an egg wrapped in blankets of tissue, studying a shockingly wide assortment of stab wounds & trying to fathom how anyone could feel it's appropriate to get your boobs out in a reception area "for an airing"! Oh and add to that a robbery which resulted in having my finger prints taken by a genuine CSI agent (it said so on his fleece) & I think you will understand my hesitation in moving on.

So future friends & colleagues, you have a lot to live up to & if i start doing anything deemed 'inappropriate', go easy on me. It's been an interesting few months.