125 - Between The Cracks

At the risk of this blog turning into a constant "I'm just weird" ramble...

I made an observation today.

All my friends that don't drink are quite religious and/or American. All of my friends that do drink are more similar in my views and opinions. I don't drink and I'm not religious or American.

Therefore, to truly fit in with my friends, I have to get wasted and/or believe in God and/or move to America.

You know, I can't decide which of the three is most likely. I can say that being excluded from all three is surprisingly depressing.

112 - Good Old School Days

I miss board games.

In fact, I haven't typed 'board games' in so long that it just took me three attempts to spell it right.

I spent three hours learning and playing a board game this evening. A real one. With dice and counters and everything! It was so much fun and it got me thinking about the last board game I played. I believe the last one was Disney Trivia on Christmas Day with my sister and my cousin.

We were only playing because out cousin wanted to, of course. Yup...

Before that - and not counting TCGs (that's trading card games for those non-nerds, or those too cool to admit to knowing what TCG stands for) or chess or anything electronic - it was probably about ten years ago.

Oh, no, wait... does Harry Potter Scene It count? If it does this blog is pretty much void.

Alright, apart from Disney Trivia and Harry Potter Scene It and various TCGs, it's been a long while! I just miss the kind of fun we had when we were kids, lying belly-down on the living room floor at a cousin's or a friend's, playing The Game Of Life or Cluedo. It's made me want to start something like a weekly/fortnightly/monthly old school games night. Hmm...

111 - Picnic In The Park

The plan was to get loads of food and sit in the park in the sunshine with the boyfriend and a new friend (or an old friend, depending on who you asked)(Hi Nomi!).

We had the food. We had the perfect, quiet little park away from the crazy-busy tourist trap that most people go to. We had the sunshine.

And then before we could eat we were kicked out of the park by a short guy with a big bell. And he wouldn't stop ringing it! Oh, and we were pooped on. Maybe. If it was poop the bird exploded or had a bad case of the squirts. Otherwise it could have been some kid over the hedge that sprayed watered-down paint or flour and water. The jury is still out on that one.

We relocated to another park where everyone except me sat in gum and I discovered I'm not the only one who really appreciates a good pair of designer (ahem), quality sunglasses. We did, however, eat our way through six different flavours of crisps (bratwurst sausage is my favourite, and we were left wondering if BBQ kangaroo actually tastes like what we were tasting).

Also, vuvuzelas are really frickin loud! When the players are complaining they really have reason to!

The moral of the Saturday is, you can have picnic without much eating and plenty of bad luck and still have a really great time. Again, again! Though without the poop and gum next time, maybe.

110 - Oops?

Something you don't hear every day... this made me laugh. For the record, it's a joke!

Me: That's not awkward.
X: Are you un-awkwardable?
Me: Not entirely.
Me: I've seen you naked, so you can't make me awkward.
X: Yeah, sorry about that...
X: But then again, I've seen you naked.
Me: Yeah, sorry about that...

X: Well, there can't be all that many people who have seen you naked.
Me: 6? I think.
X: Plus all those people who logged onto that webcam I put in your bedroom.
Me: You mean the bedroom that my mum now sleeps in? Eeeewww
X: That camera isn't nearly as popular as the one I had in *my* room when you were over.
Me: Now now, just because you watch that video every day doesn't make it popular.

107 - How You Doin'?

I realised today the effect this blog is having on my social life. It was unexpected and quite strange, but now that I think about it, it makes a lot of sense.

My friends read my blog and to them, they're hearing from me as though I picked up the phone or sent an email and chatted to them for a while. That's fine really, but what happens then is that I don't hear from my friends for days or weeks at a time. They don't realise it, because they know how I am and what's on my mind or what I get up to, but I have no idea how they are or what's happening in their lives because it doesn't register on a conscious level that the blog as a conversation is completely one-sided.

It's a very strange feeling, knowing that all your friends know all about your day/week/life, but you don't know a thing about theirs, or don't even realise that they know everything you're saying. Half of the people that read this blog I didn't realise even read it at all.

It's like having a diary, leaving it on your front door step and closing the door, not knowing who is going to read it and who isn't, and people rarely knock on the door to talk back.

093 - What Did You Say About My Friend?!?!?

I have weird friends. Or to be more specific, their friendships with me are strange, from the way we behave to what we would consider acceptable that most other people wouldn't.

I have Sunshine, Tiny, the Welsh One, the Cat-Lover, and before he was my boyfriend we were really good friends so The Boyfriend gets counted too. Things that are pretty standard with all/most of these friends include:

Cuddling in bed or under a duvet.
Holding hands (more specifically, playing with fingers, as I tend to do without thinking).
Sitting on laps.
Linking arms.
Head--shoulder resting.
Head--boob resting (and they're not subtle about it either).
(Also, let me point out here that not all of the friends listed are male).
Sleeping with (in the same bed, get your mind out of the gutter!).
Saying "I love you!" whether in text, on the phone, in person or yelled across the street.
Using terms like "hun", "darlin", "gorgeous", etc. in greeting and conversation.
Blowing kisses to.

Basically, they're like lovers/husbands/wives without the kissing and business time.

I also have one friend, C-Doll, who I have known for several years but have yet to meet, that probably knows me better than I know myself. And when we do finally meet (hopefully soon... hint hint), the world may implode with excitement/relief/happiness/love/awkwardness. But I know we will fall into all/some of the habits above too, so deserves a mention.

I can also count my sister into the above activities too, which may or may not be even weirder, but there you go. I'm pretty sure she's the same with her friends too, though.

So I was wondering if those friends (some of whom do read this blog and I hope they can tell they are mentioned despite the lack of name) are the same with their other friends, or if it's just me and my slightly strange attraction to cuddles and affection that they just don't fight off. Or... you know... if any of you don't like it now is the time to say so...

Also, I'd like to point out that I behave like that whether I have a boyfriend or not. Is that bad?

090 - Resurection

Did you know Blogger keeps your blog for 90 days after you delete it? I didn't. Now I do!

I have to apologise for deleting this this yesterday. Deleting it upset a lot of people, especially my writer friends who made me realise writing is one thing in my life that will never leave and never turn it's back on me. Part of my writing is my blog. So, in a way, my blog is my new dog. You know, dogs... loyal... best friend... Oh, it made sense in my head.

Why did I delete it? Well, someone read my last blog as a direct attack on him, and I'm actually still trying to convince that person that it wasn't. Perhaps I need to highlight the majority of the blog that wasn't about him at all. He didn't drive me to delete this though, oh no. It was his over-protective guard dog that doesn't know her place. She even told me I shouldn't write about things I care about or feel passionately about and accused me of caring more about my blog than about people that it may piss of. Well, some people, perhaps... clearly... but I assure everyone that reads these from an outside perspective that everyone in my blog is fully aware they're in it, most often why they're in it has already been discussed and resolved, and they see it as a general summary of my day. Most people. And generally they know me, or haven't had a few drinks in them at the time.

Oh dear, can you tell I'm still pissed off?

Never make a writer feel that her writing is worthless. It cuts to the bone.

087 - Best Gender Friends

Someone said to me yesterday, "If guys could have best friends that were girls, she'd be my best friend." It confused me as to what he was saying and I had him explain further. It was news to me that some guys feel they can't (or shouldn't?) have their best friend be female because it's a little bit, uh, camp. It really got me thinking.

Most of my closest friends are male. If I had to pick one best friend, I couldn't without saying my boyfriend is my best friend and having you all groan and throw up your breakfast. If I could pick, say, five best friends, I could. And only one of them is female.

Is it different for a girl to have a guy best friend than a guy to have a girl best friend?

With that in mind, I wonder how many of my guy best friends would claim me as one of their best friends too. I know two have, for sure, but in fairness they're not the straightest of people.

Can big, butch, heterosexual men have female best friends?

082 - Love Your Lardy Butt!

I was going to say "Love your curves" but if you're like me, you'll read the word "curves" and think, "I have curves... lots of curves... rolls of them!" So, here goes...

Love your fat ass.
Love all your lumps and bumps, love handles and turkey thighs.

The number of good male friends I have with girlfriends: 5
The number of those girlfriends that are a size 18 and over: 4

The number of size 16+ girls I know: 5 (not the same girls)
Number of them with boyfriends: 5

(See the pattern yet?)

Number of single guy friends: 15
Number of those single guy friends that are gay (in the name of accuracy): 3
Number of those single guy friends that say their perfect woman is size 16+: 10
Number of those single guy friends that say their perfect woman is size 20+: 8

Ladies, big bums and hips are sexy. My friends are sweet, charming, loving, [somewhat] gentle men, so if you've come across guys and girls who have said they don't like bulge, well, you're talking to the wrong guys, and they're probably pond scum.

C'mon, imagine the last guy to tell you you're not attractive... pond scum, right? You're too good to date that anyway.

The bottom line is, if you're not happy with yourself, you CAN change... but you really don't need to.

Unless you're 400lbs and riddled with diabetes or something... then your lardy butt might be killing you. Just a thought.

080 - Does Size Matter?

This blog is not suitable for kids or the innocent...

I've written a few blogs now about beauty and appearances, social acceptance and expectations when it comes to the female physical form. I've not said anything about the guys.

I have a very good friend... let's call him "Tiny"... who, despite being extremely tall and possibly seeming quite intimidating at first because of it, his penis is actually smaller than your average big toe.

Now now, don't hate me, just let me explain.

He likes being teased for it. Not many people know about his little mister, as far as I'm aware, but he really does love the humiliation. Each to their own, whatever floats your boat, etc. etc. Some people like bondage, he likes being laughed at.

So, partly per his request, this goes out to the girls (and guys) with opinions on the subject. Does size matter? Do the girls who say "No it doesn't" have a limit, a minimum size before it is actually too small? Has anyone ever had a tiny lover that was better than a larger one? Or larger guys that were just crap? Or is anyone just not satisfied with anything smaller than a battering ram?

Don't hold back now...

021 - Extreme Reaction

I've realised that while my approach to life detailed in 018 is close to the mark, it's not quite the solution to who I am.

Oh yes... I have been thinking. Run for the hills.

The idea of caring less is a good one, but maybe not in the F*ck It extreme.

As in 010, I am a little bit... what's the word I'm looking for? Hmm... As I said to my friend, I can either be the nicest person in the world or your worst nightmare. It doesn't take much for me to go from confused or questioning to totally irate, irrational and stubborn. And then I get a headache.

I don't need to say f*ck it, really. I just need to figure out how to react less to things. (Am I repeating myself now? I swear what I'm trying to explain is a different idea).

I'll try it with examples.

Firstly, this is an echo of a conversation I've had recently, summarised but accurate.

Him: I'm headed to the pub.
Me: Why? [mildly annoyed]
Him: The lads are going. I'm going to see my friends.
Me: What pub? Why are you going to the pub?
Who is going? [increasingly annoyed]
Him: [frustrated] Because I want to, ok?
[insert hours of stomping and teeth grinding and snapping and a headache while he went to the pub anyway]

Secondly, this is how I could have handled it, like a normal, well-adjusted person.

Him: I'm headed to the pub.
Me: With who? [interested]
Him: Friends from college, a few of the lads...
Me: Ok, have fun! Be safe!
Him: Thanks, hun. Have a good night!
[later, everyone is still in a good mood, no headache, with good chance of lovin's and friendly banter about the friends from college and the lads.]

...which could ultimately lead to something more along the lines of...

Him: I'm headed to the pub.
Me: Alright, have fun!
Him: Do you want to come?
[good, happy times all round]

See, even writing the happier scenario makes me feel happier right now! I just hope I don't have to talk to myself every time to figure out when I'm about to be a total cow.

I have a lot of uh.... quirks... that I need to work on, but my reactions in the extreme are probably at the core of most of them. So if I manage those, I think I'm doing well.

020 - Demotion

It's amazing how easily someone can remove you from their lives, where you get demoted from 'good friend' to 'facebook friend' and ultimately be totally removed from their lives in a matter of minutes.

It makes me wonder what kind of person they were in the first place, to kick someone to the kerb over a minor disagreement, and to do it so easily too.

Do I care? Of course. No one likes to be friend-dumped. Am I going to beat myself up about it? No, because lets face it, if they can block me out so easily they weren't much of a friend deep down in the first place, were they?

So here's to real friends, to those that matter.

019 - Absence

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder..."

*****

Right?

Well, I'm not sure if that's 100% accurate all the time. What I do know is that when you talk to someone a lot - whether it's almost constantly or every day or something regular - whenever that conversation stops it's extremely difficult to not pick up the phone! I never thought it would be, but I know that there are one or two people that I feel that way about now. It's worse when I'm alone and bored, because I get an itch to just talk to them, to pass the time or to make me smile.

And if anyone wants to know who those people are, ask me and I'll tell you.

016 - Alcoholic Dysfunction

"No, thanks, I don't drink."
"What?"
"I don't drink."
"What? At all?!"

*****

I don't drink. Everyone knows I don't drink and most people know why. It's just who I am. Lately though, I've started to wonder if I'm being snobby or just plain sad because I don't drink at all, never really go to pubs unless it's to babysit someone on the booze, and never ever go clubbing.

I've been wondering if people think strange of me because of it, or if I'm wrong to get annoyed or exasperated when people close to me drink too much (please do consider why I don't drink, here).

The only times I've ever considered drinking was when I was very down or depressed or angry with life in general, and I knew if I started drinking because of that it would be a very steep downward slope. I suppose that fear is also a reason I don't drink; the fear that I wont know how or when to stop, like most of my family. And the fear, too, that I'll do something I'd regret. I have little enough willpower sober as it is.

I've always been of the mind that if anyone snubs me for not drinking, "don't knock it til you've tried it", I would say the same thing to them; "Totally sober? Don't knock it..."

On a viewpoint away from my family though, I still can't say I'd drink anyway. I mean, what is so appealing about losing control, losing morals and inhibition, not remembering the night before or remembering and regretting things you've said or done, the hangovers, the fights, the depleting condition of health when you drink regularly. Someone once answered that it's good because you might do things you wouldn't normally do. Isn't that a bad thing though? Usually when I don't want to do or say something I have a very good reason. Why drink and forget that reason, and regret doing whatever it was I didn't want to do in the first place? Someone else told me it's because their friends drink, they drink. Really? What kind of friends can't amuse themselves without getting hammered?

I know I'm rambling, but I've seen a lot of people do a lot of stupid things when drunk - from one guy declaring his love for me, to my own mother throwing boiling water in my face - and I can't see how my life or anyone else's is better when they're sloshed.

009 - R.I.P. Yorkie

"He's special..."

*****

I don't like cats. Everyone knows it and most know why. Yet there was one cat that wasn't really a cat to me. He was this awesome little dude with a penchant for blank walls and scaring the crap out of me with his spastic sudden movements. Yorkie was my friend's (/ honourary brother's) cat and he passed away this morning. So here you go, a short and sweet dedication to the only cat that I ever really took to in the past few years, and the only one I really 'got'.

Which isn't exactly a good thing since the poor little guy was off his rocker.

I love you, Yorkie, and I miss you already. x

008 - Far, Far Away

"I'm like a kid at a Star Wars concert... oh, wait...!"

*****

Yesterday my awesome friend Matt took me to see Star Wars, In Concert. I know what you're thinking... and you're right. It really is that nerdy. And you know what? It's GREAT! I WANT TO GO AGAIN!!!

Lights, smoke, lasers, big screens, weird metal stage... what's not to love?

I can't remember seeing the original trilogy, and as far as I recall I've only seen one or two of the new ones, so apart from Episode III and Matt showing me Episode IV earlier in the week, I had no real clue what it was going to be like. As a lover of live performances and music, I was really excited to go. And it really was amazing. The music - and especially the choir - gave me goosebumps. While I wanted to see the other movies before I now really have to. I neeeeed to!

While an appreciation of the movies is probably necessary for most people for pay through the nose for a ticket (we got ours for free, sshh),anyone that loved orchestral music would love the concert. So, girls, if your fella wants to go and you don't want to do anything Star Wars-y, get over yourself and just go. You might actually like it. And you shouldn't deny any Star Wars fan the chance to see it, even if that fan is as half-arsed as I am.

004 - Blog? Me?

"You're going to blog about this, aren't you?"
"No, because I won't get back on time!"

*****

I know, I know... It's technically 5th March and technically I missed a day, but I'm not going to just let it slide past and hope no one notices, am I?

So, what happened? It's quite funny really. No, honestly.

I was at my awesome friend, Matt's place earlier today and the time came when I had to go home. So as per usual, Matt was going to take me back into town so the Big Bad Wolf didn't get me by myself. Anyway... too-much-detail-story short, Matt's place has two doors you have to go through to get in and out. One door between the flat and the hall, one between the hall and outside. Right? With me so far?

We left the flat, into the hall, shut the door... and Matt realised we didn't pick up his keys. And no, we couldn't open the hall/outside door without them either...

Forty-five minutes (trapped in the hallway) later Matt broke into his flat. Literally.

They really don't make door frames like they used to...

So I missed the last bus and the last train, and got a taxi home.

But it was really funny...