30.11.06
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*
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*
29.11.06
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*
28.11.06
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*
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*
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...
------------
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...
------------
27.11.06
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...
------------
26.11.06
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*
------------
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
-------------
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
-------------
24.11.06
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*
-------------
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*
-------------
23.11.06
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
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
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.
-------------
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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