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!

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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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...

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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...

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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*

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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*

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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