DAY 14 BITCHES!

Another purely gratuitous pic of the delectable Wentworth I know, but it is loosely related to what I'm about to say, I promise...

This weekend has been nothing short of hellish for no other reason than a lack of nicotine.

Fucking cancer.

I had foolishly thought that once I was past the first week, I would be OK. But alas no...

I don't know why it was so bad, but I assume the cravings that drove me to distraction and forced me to contemplate throwing myself under a bus were due to the fact that I wasn't at work.

Temptation was everywhere and I almost caved after the 13th newsagents I walked past. Everyone seemed to be smoking and all I could think was 'why do they get to smoke and I can't?'

I was miserable and I knew that it would all go away if I just had a cigarette...

But I persevered, worked through it and satiated my cravings with impure thoughts of Mr Miller (see, told you there was a reason for the pic! I swear to God, if I didn't have him to distract me, I would be smoking myself into a coma as I type).

In the end, I had to go home and literally hide. I drew the curtains in the living room and watched season 1 of Prison Break on DVD.

That may be the saddest thing I've ever admitted to and could constitute a cry for help but I don't give a shit.

I gotta do what I gotta do and you gotta do what you gotta do...

So I've made it to day 14, thank God, and I feel great...yay!

God bless you Wentworth Miller!

------------

Gratuitous Pic of Wentworth Miller

*feels better*


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Number 32: Forget to go to a gig

Is 'Buy tickets to a gig, get the day wrong and miss it' on the list?

No? I didn't think so. Thought I was going to see The Blood Arm tonight, but apparently that was last night.

Twat.

Note to self: start writing shit down.

Oh and PS, if this is what happens when you get older, then I want *no* part of it!

------------

No 31: Fix a toilet

Jesus wept, I've had a mother fucker of a couple of days and I need a cigarette so bad that I can't quite remember why I've given up. Was it a good reason? I hope so...

Awoke yesterday morning to find a leak in my Handbag Room (yes, I have a Handbag Room in my house, doesn't everyone? *blinks*). There was a huge wet patch on the ceiling and water was coming through the light fitting. Joy!

Cue mild panic, crying and hair pulling.

It was one of those situations when it takes you a couple of moments to decide what to do, so there I was, staring at this water thinking 'WHAT THE FUCK??!! Should I call 999?'

My first thought, of course, was for the safety of the handbags and quickly moved them all to my bedroom, where they would be safe.

I then began to think a little more clearly and called the insurance company instead, who despatched a plumber. He was round within an hour and quite possibly one of the moodiest men I have ever had the misfortune of letting in my house (although not *the* moodiest, it pains me to say).

Clambering into the loft, all I heard was a muffled 'Jesus Christ!'

Cue more panic, crying and now wailing.

What was it? Was the ceiling about to collapse? Had the roof blown off in the night and I hadn't noticed? Was it a dead body? Were there a family of gypsies squatting in my loft?

No, the cold water tank had overflowed. A minor problem that took less than 15 mins to resolve and will cause little or no damage. All I have to do is let the ceiling dry out and all will be well again.

So not really something that warranted such a reaction.

I'd hate to live with the man. 'Jesus Christ there's something on my foot! No wait, it's just a sock...'

Cunt.

Today hasn't been much better. This morning I awoke to the toilet not flushing. Joy!

Called the moody plumber, who couldn't come around until 2pm so I told him not to bother (not wise I know, but it was the lack of nicotine talking and I'd rather die than admit that I need a man. Reason number 147 why I will die alone...)

So I decided to fix it myself.

Lifting the lid off the cistern (I think that's what it's called) I looked into the tank and quickly realised that without seeing a button that said 'Press here to fix', I had no fucking idea what I was doing.

But being the logical soul that I am (translation: I more or less told the plumber to get fucked so had no other choice), I went to the toilet downstairs to compare the two.

Taking a photo on my phone (technology 'eh?) I went back upstairs and realised what the problem was: the tank wasn't filling up with water.

Locating the pipe, I turned the head to get the water running and the head promptly fell off and water started gushing *everywhere*!

Cue blind panic, screaming and nausea at being doused in toilet water.

After struggling with it for a bit, I not only got the water to stop gushing but I only fucking fixed the thing! Don't ask me *how* I just did!

Get me, I'm Handy Andy! Can I call myself a plumber now?

-------------

13. Ask a boy out

Blogger is shit. It was bust on Monday so I had to post all of the below yesterday, which wouldn't normally be a problem but they've robbed me of my 7th day of not smoking celebrations...damn them! *shakes fist at Blogger*

Anyway, I realise that I mentioned the boy in the office I fancy nearly a week ago and haven't mentioned him since because I'm a big old tease. But I shall fill you all in now...

Can't mention any names for obvious reasons, but he sits next to me and he's just started. When I first saw him I thought he was hella cute (yes, I know I'm 29!) but he's v.v.v.quiet and I'm not so I didn't really think about him much after that. (For me to fancy someone is a finely tuned balance between looks and personality, too far in either direction and I go off the boil. This of course may explain why I'm still single and why I will probably die alone...)

However, as the weeks have passed, he's obviously warmed up and has been chatting a bit more. We've got some banter going and I can feel myself at simmering point again...woo and indeed hoo!

It is at this point that a normal person would test the waters to see if the attraction is reciprocated and maybe even ask the object of their affection out for a drink.

Not I! I consider it for the briefest of moments and then convince myself that he isn't interested and promptly obsess about him from a distance until I lose the will to live and/or shag someone I shouldn't to distract myself.

By the time I've come to my senses, we're usually in the 'Friends Zone' and it's too late.

*sigh*

It's a vicious cirlce that I've perfected since the age of 15 when I developed my first proper crush on Neil Taylor, who was two years above me at school.

NOTHINGEVERCHANGES...

So in keeping with this whole list idea of doing things that I wouldn't normally do, I should ask him out, right?

*thinks about it properly*
*SCREAMS*
*hides under desk*

------------

Day 7: IN YOUR FACE CANCER!

I AM A GOLDEN GOD!

7 days smoke free.

7 fucking days.

Oh yes!

43 Things

Told someone at work about this blog and they told me about 43 Things, which is a website where you go and make a list of all the things you want to do before you die.

Aside from the fact that it pisses all over this blog and reinforces the fact that I've never had an original thought in my life, it's actually a great site!

When you post your list it links you with other people who are tying to do the same thing and you can post messages encouraging and helping people with their stuff. For example:

722,283 people in 10,292 cities are doing 768,182 things including...love unconditionally...Learn to Salsa...read sixth Harry Potter book...Be more sociable...Practice Wicca more...Learn to read Binary...be remembered...sleep for a long time...Live on a lake...grow flowers...complain less...

So, like I said, it pisses all over what I'm trying to do here.

I recommend you ch-ch-check it out though!

------------

29. Go out without make up on

This one is probably the most pointless and shallow thing on the list, but anyone that knows me will tell you that I *never* go anywhere without make up on. I will put my face on to mow the lawn or even just to pop out to the corner shop to buy a pint of milk.

Pointless and shallow I know, but leaving the house without make up on is nonetheless a *huge* thing for me and I haven't done it since I was 14 and discovered Rimmel.

Putting on make up is like having a shower or brushing my hair, it's part of my routine and I don't even notice it anymore. Not doing it would feel weird, like when you leave the house without putting your watch on.

It's just part of me and what makes me fabulous.

But I did it on Saturday, even though I had a massive spot on my chin (please note the pictorial evidence, for those of you that know me and can't believe that I would do something like this. Although the spot looks disconcertingly like a nipple at first glance...)

I was terrified and I must admit, I felt naked and v.self conscious at first, like everyone was looking at me.

Of course they weren't. They were too busy elbowing me out of the way to get the last seat on the bus or a loaf of bread in M&S (there are *loads*! Why do you want the one I'm reaching for?)

So after an hour or so, I completely forgot and even met a friend for lunch in case I was accused of cheating. However, I neglected to warn her so she was aghast when I walked into the cafe.

'What's wrong? Are you ill?'
'No. I'm fine.'
'Are you hungover?'
'No!'
'You're not wearing any make up.'
'I know.'
'But I can see your actual skin'
'I know. So? What are you doing?'
'Looking to see if you're wearing shoes.'
'Why wouldn't I be wearing shoes?'
'Cos you're obviously depressed.'
'Stop whispering. I'm fine! It's for my list.'
'What list?'
'The list!'
'You're still doing that?'
'Of course!'
'But you'll never do it all before you turn 30 so what's the point?'
'Just cos I won't do it doesn't mean I shouldn't at least try.'
'But you're gonna fail. Why start something you know you're going to fail?'
'Cos I always do the right thing, the safe thing and look where it's got me? Nowhere. Maybe it won't hurt to fail at something. Besides, there's loads on that list that I actually wanna do.'
'So you're gonna get a tattoo just cos you wrote it on a bit of paper when you were hungover and panicking about turning 30?'
'Yes.'
'You're a fucking idiot.'

-------------

Today just gets better...

My stars in the Metro:

Capricorn
Some Capricorns are definitely yearning in secret for a love they cannot, or shouldn't, have. If you're one of them, the yearning goes big today. If not, thank your lucky stars your only celebrity crush is on a celebrity.

Then I read this in the Holy Moly newsletter:

Sound Of The (30,000 ft) Overground
Which member of pop quintet Girls Aloud recently got tiddly and fiddly with Wentworth Miller - he of the tattooed torso from hit US TV drama 'Prison Break' - during a recent Virgin (the irony) Atlantic flight to LA?

It had been reported in the tabloids that the Irish pop strumpet was on a mercy dash to patch up her on-off relationship with a male star from the biggest TV show in the US.

Apparently our chatty songstress was sitting at the Upper Class bar supping champers when her Lucky Charms were noted by Miller.

After some inevitable flirting and comparison of bank accounts and tattoos, the couple decided to sky-test those really posh beds shown on the adverts (though the adverts only show one person in the bed - and definitely no rimming).

To the annoyance of their fellow passengers, the lady in question is a bit of a 'screamer', and her Catholic background was made fairly obvious by her cries of, "Oh Jesus, oh Mary Mother of God, there, that's the spot" etc. This led to complaints and a red-faced flight attendant was dispatched to ask the lady in question if she could be more... not so loud.

Frolics done, the singer bid her mile-high partner adieu, re-applied her make up, did her hair and hauled her swollen mons off the plane, before racing into the arms of her desperate boyfriend who was waiting at the gate.

*squeal*

Maybe he isn't so gay after all Perez Hilton, you fat fuck.

If that story is true, which I choose to assume it is, then it is proof undeniable that there is a God...WENTWORTH MILLER IS STRAIGHT! And that Nadine Coyle has exquisite taste in men.

Today is like, the best day evah!

Or maybe my stars relate to the boy in the office I fancy, but more of that, and how it effects numer 13 on Monday...

------------

Day 5: Feeling tres smug...

How sanctimonious do you think I was when I heard this on 6Music news this morning:

England's Smoking Ban in Pubs and Public Places Begins July 1
By Reed V. Landberg

Nov. 30 (Bloomberg) -- England's public spaces, including pubs, restaurants and private clubs, must be smoke-free beginning on July 1, 2007, the Department of Health said today.

Health Secretary Patricia Hewitt said the ban approved by Parliament in July 2006 comes into force at 6 a.m. and will extend to work vehicles used by more than one person. The law also bans indoor smoking rooms in offices.

'Secondhand smoke kills,' Hewitt said in a statement in London. 'Thousands of people's lives will be saved and the health of thousands more protected.'

The measures will hit hardest in 60,000 pubs, where smoking has been permitted since Sir Walter Raleigh popularized it in the 16th-century court of Queen Elizabeth I.

The ban may cut revenue to pub companies about 8 percent, according to the consulting firm KPMG International. Pub owners including Mitchells & Butlers Plc and Enterprise Inns Plc argued in favor of a ban with no loopholes to maintain a level competitive field against 20,000 private clubs.

Only Bhutan and Scotland have more restrictive smoking laws. Bhutan bars the sale of tobacco, while Scotland doesn't allow smoking by actors on stage, an exemption lawmakers allowed in England. Ireland, Northern Ireland, Italy, Finland, Norway and Sweden also have smoking restrictions in place.

Wales is planning to adopt restrictions along the lines of those approved in England.


No sweat!

*strokes nicotine patch*
*polishes halo*

-------------

1 Week: 4 down, 26 to go...

1. Lose weight
2. Give up smoking - WORK IN PROGRESS
3. Get a better job
4. Watch Star Wars
5. Fly a kite
6. Kiss a girl
7. Magic mushrooms
8. Get laid
9. Drink Absinth
10. Crowd surf
11. Get a tattoo
12. Have a one night stand
13. Ask a boy out
14. Keep a diary for more than a couple of weeks - WORK IN PROGRESS
15. Go fishing
16. Get a Brazilian (wax)
17. Win a competition
18. Learn how to ride a bike
19. Give a flower to a stranger
20. Stay up for 24 hours
21. Have cyber sex
22. Learn how to play the drums
23. Get in a fight (verbal or otherwise) - DONE
24. Send a Valentine's card
25. Walk a dog
26. Shoplift something - DONE
27. Go to a football match
28. Learn a language
29. Go out without make up on
30. Do something for charity

Day 4: Not killed anyone...yet...

Feeling surprisingly calm today. Managed to get some sleep last night so feel more human. The cravings are still there but are proving less of a distraction. My head's still killing me though.

I'll be honest, I thought I would have caved by now so I'm v.proud of myself. That doesn't mean I won't but I keep telling myself that if I got through the first 72 hours, which are apparently the worst, it's going to get better. (Impure thoughts of Wenthworth Miller are also helping immensely! On my first anniversary of giving up, I shall write him a letter thanking him for the support).

*SCREAM*

Just went into my desk drawer to look for some headache pills and found my emergency pack of cigarettes!

*runs for the hills*

Day 3: Fuck Nicotine

Oh God help me. Today has been *awful*

It would appear that everyone in the world apart from me, is smoking. Everyone I walk past in the street, stand next to at the station, sit next to in a cafe...everyone...

Even Wentworth Miller it would appear (my mate, the smoker, took great pleasure in telling me). Damn, I knew that boy was a bad influence *purs*

And the smell...it's potent...almost hypnotic. I've turned into some sort of cigarette bloodhound, smelling any fag within a 2 mile radius.

God I miss it. I *really* miss it.

But I will be strong. I shall resist. I shall overcome.

*shakes fist at nicotine*

But the insomnia, head aches and profuse sweating are all deterring me from not picking up a cigarette. I swear to God, I am never doing this again. It's hell.

All of this could explain my last post about The Killers. I just re-read it and even I have to admit, I sound like an utter cunt. But I still stand by every word I say. It wasn't a pleasant experience. Although my fight with that Neanderthal may have been some Karmic punishment for telling that bloke to get fucked on the train.

*looks at picture of Earl*

*hangs head in shame*

Number 23: Get in a fight

Day 2 and I'm still not smoking.

How? I don't know. This is what I had to endure yesterday sans nicotine:

1. Monday morning
2. Getting up an hour and a half earlier than I usually would
3. Rain
4. A packed train due to the below
5. Engineering works
6. A 15 minute train journey taking 58 minutes due to the above
7. Late for an important meeting
8. Sitting and being spoken at for 4 hours at said meeting
9. Gig with my best mate, who's a smoker
10. Getting into a fight with a very scary man in Brixton Academy

And I still didn't smoke. I'm a fucking saint. A saint y'hear??!

I really did pick the perfect day to give up didn't I? *sighs and rolls eyes*

The Killers - Brixton Academy
Originally uploaded by fabulous2.0.

Oh well. Going to see The Killers helped, somewhat. They were aces, although their new fans aren't so much.

The Killers, like the Scissor Sisters have always been mainstream but still maintained a slight edge; enough to satiate indie kids like me, who like them cos they're camp and fun but cringe everytime we see their CDs in Tescos.

Well, I can now confirm that The Killers have now lost that tennuous grip on the edge, especially if their new legion of fans are anything to go by.

I *heart* the Killers and always have done. I was there, literally, when Zane Lowe played Mr Brightside on Radio 1 for the first time in 2002. I've seen them live 4 times. I sing 'Andy You're A Star' when I'm shit-faced. I welled up with pride when they did Live 8. When I saw Brandon in a pink leather jacket at their last gig, I actually considered buying one too.

Trust me when I say that I *love* them.

That was the old Killers though. The new Killers take themselves a little too seriously on their new album, Sam's Town which, even after repeated listens, still doesn't bring me the same joy as Hot Fuss. And When You Were Young, despite the 'you sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy...' lyric reminding me of Wentworth Miller, still sounds like Meatloaf.

So I wasn't particularly looking forward to the gig especially as the last time I went to see them, I had such a good time. I was drunk on cocktails and danced my tits off (yes, danced. I *never* dance at gigs, I always stand at the side, nodding) I lost one of my favourite earrings and my mate lost his mobile phone but it was still the best gig evah!

I didn't want anything to sully the memory so when my mate and I were offered £150 each for our tickets by tout, we were sorely tempted.

But such is our love for La Flowers that we didn't sell them and headed into Brixton Academy with high expectations and bellies full of Nandos and beer.

The Rapture were supporting who are amazing. We'd seen them before and loved them so it was a great start. Lots of dancing and singing along, which was a welcome distraction from the nictotine cravings.

When lights came on, there was the usual surge forward, which we dodged by standing by the side and when The Killers eventually walked on stage the crowd of course went nuts.

A little too nuts. There was lots of pushing and shoving and outright barging to get closer to the stage, not that my mate and I were in anyone's way standing at the side, but such was the eagerness to get to the front that it would appear that the whole of Brixton Academy wanted to be where we were standing.

That's to be expected for a big band like The Killers though, but when it didn't settle down after the first couple of songs, it began to wear thin.

Yes, I expect the usual to-ing and fro-ing to the bar or toilets, that's all part of going to a gig, but when you're being literally shoulder barged out of the way by a 6'2" 18 stone bloke, it's not a pleasant experience.

I didn't mention that did I? Yes, it would appear that The Killers largely gay and female fan base have [sarcasm]evolved[/sarcasm] into rude, aggressive, larger-swilling blokes who seemed to think that they were at Upton Park not Brixton Academy (see also: Kasabian fans *shudder*).

Not nice.

Also not nice, when one of them barged past my mate, knocking her flying (she actually spun round and did a 360, dropping her pint in the process). I of course, starved of nicotine and irritated by the whole experience told him to watch it. At which point he turned round.

'What tha fuck did you say t'me?' He grunted.
'I told you to watch it. You nearly knocked my mate over.'
'I didn't fucking touch her!'
'Yes you did!'
'No I fucking didn't!'
'Please.' I said, making praying hands, it would appear that sign language was required as he obviously didn't fully understand English. 'I'm just saying, watch where you're going.'
'FUCK OFF!' He literally spat and lunged at me, eyes crossed.

I honestly thought he was going to hit me but luckly my mate was inbetween us, so he didn't. He just made a rude hand gesture, told me to fuck off again and strutted off, knuckles dragging behind him, like a fat Liam Gallagher.

Granted, my mouth has been known to get me into trouble in the past, but with hindsight and looking at it as impartially as I can, his reaction was a little aggressive and if I was a bloke, he would have definitely hit me.

Cunt.

And representative it would seem of The Killers new fan base (in London at least) who didn't so much sing along as chant (when they left the stage, I half expected the crowd to start chanting 'You're not singing anymoooooooore!!') and of course went mental for the hits (Mr Brightside, When You Were Young and All These Things) but were annoyingly quiet for the far superior Indie Rock and Roll.

Fucking mongs.

I realise I probably sound like a snob, and maybe I am, but while the band were great (and just as camp as ever...thank God!) the atmosphere had changed. It wasn't as fun as it has been in the past. The crowd were mostly men and a lot older, and drunker. Being shoved about and getting into fights with blokes twice my size, isn't my idea of fun.

Needless to say, I won't be going to see The Killers again. As I always say, when the Gays leave the party, it's time to call a cab.

But still, I got to cross something off the list: Number 23. Get in a fight

I fear I may be crossing that one off more than once though...

------------

Day 1: My Nicotine Hell

Oh God save me. Why did I say that I was going to give up smoking?

Fucking list.

At exactly 11.27pm last night, I had my last taste of that sweet, sweet nicotine.

For anyone that knows me, this is no mean feat. I'm not ashamed to admit (although I probably should be) that I *love* smoking. It's the only thing I'm good at and I'm not one of these people who constantly moans about wanting to give up. I actually *enjoy* smoking, and not just because it makes me look cool and smell *grate*, but because it makes me happy.

Sad but true.

But it's on the fucking list and I don't want to go into my 30s a smoker so here I am, all patched up and anxiously gnawing my way through a pack of gum.

I knew it would be hard but fuck me! Didn't sleep a wink last night, I'm irritable, my head is killing me and my sides ache.

This is hell. I hope it gets better. It has to.

Emailed my friends earlier warning them that I've given up and I fear I may murder someone so one of them will probably need to supply alibi. I wish I was joking.

The withdrawal mood swings are crazy.

Had to get up at some ungodly hour this morning to make it into work for a four hour (yes four hour) departmental meeting. Of course it was raining and the train was late, and packed, and crawled all the way to Waterloo because of engineering works.

To make matters worse, the well-dressed man who was sitting opposite me on the train had the audacity to ask me to turn my iPod down because we were sitting in a 'Quiet Zone'. I did but not before telling him to 'get fucked' under my breath.

Luckily he didn't push it, he could probably sense that I was on the verge of beating him to death with my umbrella.

I swear to God, if I had a gun, I would have shot him in the face.

Talking of violent behaviour, season 2 of Prison Break and most notably Wentworth Miller, are proving to be a rather delicious distraction.

If I never smoke again can I have him please?

Now that would be an incentive to give up...

------------

Number 2: Give up smoking

Oh God help me. Tomorrow morning I give up smoking.

Less than 12 hours to go...

*smokes self into a coma*

------------

Number 26: Shoplift something

Christ.

It would appear that I procrastinated for too long deciding which thing on my list I should do first and the Gods decided for me. Although, why they would choose something that could get me arrested, I don't know. Maybe that's the real sign here.

Allow me to explain...

Yesterday was my friend Slev's son's 2nd birthday (got that?) and he was having a party (ahhh...bless). So, being the well brought up lass that I am, I went round a little early to help get things ready. This involved a trip to a well known out-of-town shopping outlet (not Lakeside, the other one) to purchase a digital camera for the party.

I kept the Son of Slev amused while she decided which one she wanted and when one was purchased, we headed to a well known high-street chemist (not Superdrug, the other one) to pick up some bits.

While Slev was picking up sensible things like nappies, I, with the Son of Slev still under my watchful eye, decided to peruse the clothing section and found the cutest little knitted hoodie that he really wanted (he didn't actually say he wanted it because he can't speak yet, but if he could, he'd have been like: 'Hell yeah Aunty Tanya, that's ASBO chic!')

Hooking the hoodie onto the handle of the bugy, I took a moment to drool over the make up before rejoining Slev. We paid for the nappies and headed out, not before the security guard stopped us to coo over the Son of Slev, who is cuteness personified...FACT!

Heading to the car, we loaded up the boot and just as Slev was about to fold up the bugy she discovered the hoodie still hanging on the handle.

OMG! I shoplifted and used a 2 year old child as an accomplice!

I *swear* on my handbags that I did not remember that the hoodie was there! I was distracted by the damn lip gloss and completely forgot about it! Even the security guard didn't notice. There was no tag on it, no alarms went off. WTF?!

I was inconsolable and promptly burst into tears, apologising profusely for exposing the Son of Slev to the world of crime at such a young age.

Luckily, she thought it was hilarious but we were halfway home before the panic subsided and I insisted that we go back immediately and pay for it, a suggestion that was met with yet more laughter and derision from Slev.

So there you have it...the first thing on my list has been done and guess what? It was illegal! Not only that, Slev's son now has to walk around wearing stolen goods.

It's official: I'm going to burn in hell.

Signed,
Doris the Dip x

-------------

Where to begin?

First thing's first: the list...dum, dum, dum!

Ah...the list. I predict that, in about 3 weeks, I will hate this list with every fibre of my being, delete this blog and pretend that this whole thing never happened.

Until then however, I'm gonna give it a go even if it's patently obvious that I'm not going to get all of this done in a month (number 24 for example defo can't happen until next year). But God loves a trier, right? So don't be surprised if I rebrand this blog in the new year as '31 things to do before I'm 31'...if I haven't got bored of it by then, natch.

Before I get going though, I'd just like to point out that, with the exception of numbers 1-3 and the obligatory number 30, which I just tacked on to the end in an attack of Catholic Guilt, everything else on this list is utterly pointless and shallow. I'm really rather proud of that. Who needs to pay off their debts and be a better person when they can watch Star Wars and shoplift? Word...

I am however, beginning to regret number 11 (Get a tattoo). Does a henna one count? WTF was I thinking? *groans* I'll leave that one until I'm bored and delete everything...

Secondly, which one should I do first? Number 2 (Give up smoking) is an obvious choice as it would mean that I would just get it over and done with, but I'm seeing my Mum on Sunday so that may not be wise. I fear much nicotine will be requried before then. Maybe I should start on Monday morning? That makes more sense and is definitely in keeping with my: 'why do today what you can put off until tomorrow' mantra.

Don't have much time, so need to do something this weekend, but what?

*scratches head*

-------------

The List

1. Lose weight
2. Give up smoking
3. Get a better job
4. Watch Star Wars
5. Fly a kite
6. Kiss a girl
7. Magic mushrooms
8. Get laid
9. Drink Absinth
10. Crowd surf
11. Get a tattoo
12. Have a one night stand
13. Ask a boy out
14. Keep a diary for more than a couple of weeks
15. Go fishing
16. Get a Brazilian (wax)
17. Win a competition
18. Learn how to ride a bike
19. Give a flower to a stranger
20. Stay up for 24 hours
21. Have cyber sex
22. Learn how to play the drums
23. Get in a fight (verbal or otherwise)
24. Send a Valentine's card
25. Walk a dog
26. Shoplift something
27. Go to a football match
28. Learn a language
29. Go out without make up on
30. Do something for charity

The List: The Original

Told you it was badly written...

And so it begins...

As most things do, it all started so innocently...it was my 29th birthday and I was tired and emotional from the cocktails I'd had the night before and the prospect of the big 30 looming on the horizon, just 365 short days away.

Nothing had changed in the 364 days preceding my 29th birthday...I was still single, in debt and hating my job. So in an attempt to make a change, I wrote a list of things I had to do before I was 30.

I spent the next few hours pouring over it, racking my addled brain trying to think of all those things I've wanted to do and never had and eventually came up with a definitive, if badly written, list.

Proud of myself for actually committing to something and giddy with the prospect of doing something with my life, I celebrated with another cocktail.

I then promptly lost the aforementioned list and completely forgot about it until I stumbled across it at the weekend: a frantically scrawled reminder of how none of my *fabulous* ideas ever come to fruition.

So, with the big 30 looming even closer on the horizon, exactly 1 month today, I've decided to do it. Well as much of it as I can.

Oh God help me.

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