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*

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

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.'

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

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*

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

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: 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.

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