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!

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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!

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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?

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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*

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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!

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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.'

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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...

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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*

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