Free Like a Bird, Flying Into 2016

It's the 31st of December 2015 and, as expected, a lot of people are currently waxing lyrical on my Facebook feed about generalised bullshit copied and pasted straight from 'How to be a Cheesy Bastard And Get Virtual Thumbs Up Your Arse' (with a special preface by Thingy Zuckerberg).

2015 for me has been nothing but short of fucking groovy and hair raising. And not because I discovered a new brand for my Brazilian Blow Dries.

I am 33 and have only just realised the power of being truly FREE (freeee like a biiiiiiiirrrrrd!) I went to a festival on my own, did a lot of gig goings on my own as well as have been truly loyal to myself by cutting off all leeches and drama queens parading as 'friends'. I have learnt to put myself first (which does not mean walking over people, on the contrary). I have learnt to not treat myself any lesser than I would treat anyone else.

I have gained in internal power and strength like Popeye after a can of spinach. I kept reading about the whole ' be true to yourself' type of thing but never really got it until I was forced to step into it.

Being truly emotionally detached from drama and being true to oneself are amazing feelings and I plan on carrying on with a motherfucking crown ON.

                                   

 

Yo. Am doing this shit!

2015 was a draft.

2016 will be the realisation :-)

I am Lazy and I Know It #GymFail

I had the most amazing experience at the gym yesterday morning.

It was one of these out of body experiences which I kept hearing about.

Basically, my body was in KFC whilst my spirit was on the elliptical trainer.

Meet, Greet and Take a Back Seat

The role of a Business Analyst is a role which is clouded with as much glamour as a Louboutin shoe dipped in donkey manure.

Part of the role involves gathering a bunch of people together who hate being bunched together but who will whinge separately about never ever being bunched together to solve their bunch of issues. 

Yes, I am getting my panties in a bunch. I HATE meetings. I hate them with a passion stronger than Axl Rose's love of Hello Kitty cupcakes.

Top 10 Meeting Offences :

1. Do you need me in this meeting? Absolutely not. I needed a replacement for the plant pot that Facilities took out of the room, and you seemed to fit right in, manky roots and all.
2. Is this meeting about the topic in the meeting invite subject line? Noooo. Not at all. Nay. It is about how to park your unicorn in Central London at rush hour time.
3. Will I get free food in this meeting? Well of course. Unfortunately, I only have Gluten Free Fucks to serve. Hope that is okay for your tastebuds?
4. Do I need to read the document attached to the invite which says 'please read'? No darling, you are meant to print it, fold it and make a dunce hat out of it. This is why it is required for the meeting. To highlight the dunce.
5. Why are we in meeting room A and not meeting room B?  You see, the Queen was driving by our office and  having the time of her life  (and never felt that way before) when her royal tank broke down by the office. She decided to do a royal flush in room B whilst waiting for Jim to Fix it. Does this satisfy your geographical concern for the location of your claustrophobic bottom from 1 to 2pm?
   
   
   
6. Homies checking their watch like the Rapture was running late.  As far as I am concerned, I did not summon you into this meeting by chanting your name 3 times in the 2nd floor toilets. Though with a face like yours, it probably would work. 
7. Interrupting me mid-flow to demonstrate your ability to formulate a string of airborne incoherent babble. Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase. Do. Go. A-head. I have a lot longer to live than you,  and can therefore hold onto five extra minutes of respiratory function. Spit that final breath.
8. Derailing the session by focussing on the color of the meeting room wallpaper. True story. I was one  keyboard-slap away from notifying them that the only paper they should be concerned  with was the obituary that they may have to draft should they not regroup. Fast.
9. Huffing and puffing to indicate some sort of human communication .  This really surprised me. I was never told at the interview stage that my stakeholders may take the shape of buffalos. Buffalo Whisperer is not a skill I wish to add to my CV, thanks.
10. Using a dildo as a legitimate business critical pointing device. True story, I worked at a lingerie retailer's head office and dude wanted to highlight a tiny ass mistake on a flip chart so bad that he roamed the room (he clearly wasn't satisfied with using his fingers - different strokes for different folks eh),  grabbed a dildo that was lying around (as they do in that business, some people are actually paid to practice run plastic dongs) and started using the moldable schlong as a device of superior knowledge. Ding Dong, the Business Bitch is Dead.(I resurrected though. unfortunately)

Stockholm Syndrome Coffin Edition

Yup. I have slacked harder than Axl Rose...Two weeks without showing up to my own gig; and I don't even have the excuse of shagging random groupies or snorting sucrose - I don't have groupies and I only do brown sugar.

I have been busy sorting out the final episode of "Lord of the ‎Ping" at my parents house (very obscure joke about sorting out the Internet connection) and escaping the mental crutches of an unexplained crush for the Dude With The Stained Panties.

So, I am now in Stockholm, Sweden and I am emailing from my coffin - from which I am squeezing to death in a badass corset!

I Wheel Survive #Friday13th

I have literally just come back from a belly busting session at Las Iguanas on the South Bank, and all the anger I had towards Dick Tator (background post coming soon) and my week at work is now postponed for tomorrow morning's aquatic rehydration time (ie soaking off of all the rhum which escaped the burrito and went straight to my head).

In the mean time, here are some shots of a wheel that is happy to go round in circles, unlike my neurotic self.

But uuuugh, why the fuck do I end up working in the wierdest workplaces?? Seriously, one last word before I drag my spicy arse to bed: how the fuck do I end up working with a sales director who shits himself and merrily goes back towards the office like shit didnt happen?? Did you know that when a kind soul pointed out the dung nuggets splattered CSI style on his shirt and told him to go back to the bathroom, dude actually said "Can you remove it for me?". Yep.*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!! 

Oooh look ! pretty wheel!

Trees and sh.... Ugh

*And no, I never shook this dude's hands.

#Hangover #NextDay #WTFIsThisDude

Last night must have been a good night...I woke up to find this in my bag.

Thank fuck it wasn't in my bed!

Afternoon Tea : the T(ea)tty Resolutions

Ooooh who'd have thunk that I'd ever spend a Saturday around a teapot instead of  slumped next to a glass of Glenfiddich and a lamb kebab? Actually, one of my best friend did.

...for I got invited to partake in afternoon tea for said friend's birthday. We went to the Ampersand Hotel in South Kensington and had a grand old fabulous time; sipping exquisite caffeine out of the finest teapots and smuggling tantalising scones and cakes down our rumbling proletarian stomachs. 

I totally had my pinkie up whilst scoffing my gluten free macarons and I "yah, yah" 'd a lot. For those who don't know what I am talking about with 'yah yahing', this is to do with the English version of Jar Jar Binks, which are known as the 'Yah Yah Binks'. The people of this disposition are filthy rich, Cumberbatchy looking and can only affirm positive statements by looking Forrest Gumpish in the face and saying 'yah, totally, yah' 6 times in a row.

We followed up with a Chelsea bar crawl, expecting it to be a glamorous Made in Chelsea style evening. It turned out to be more Muck in Chelsea, but fun nonetheless. The Beaufort House was a good place for a nice glass of prosecco‎, but boring as fuck for atmosphere. Who the fuck plays The Stereophonics 'Handbags and Gladrags' on a Saturday night?! It is bad enough that I suffer from depression time to time, but to feel like wanting to top myself after having spent £12 on a glass of prosecco is damn right worthy of me coming back from the dead to haunt this freaking bar for a refund.

Something we hadn't thought about though, was that going out for afternoon tea meant that we were dressed like grannies on a day out to the church confessional, thus rendering the odds for a hot potential romantic encounter as high as a castrated ‎dildo.

A resolution was made to be more glamorous next time, and especially with regards to getting the Weapons of Mass Deception out (yep am only a B cup).

Looking forward to making a tit out of myself.

The Laws of Booty Gravity

Today is the day my arse has gone panoramic. 

I have put on so much weight those last 2 weeks that whilst walking, I can actually feel‎ the delayed motion of the left arse cheek gravitating back towards the ground, as the right arse cheek attempts to make a glorious escape from its denim prison. 

Note to Self: Must go back to the gym next week or I will be the prime suspect for the ginormous craters suspiciously popping in Siberia right now. 

Oopsie.

50 Shades of Nay

Sunday 15th February 2015 - 3.35pm in Romeo's Bakery in Islington : The Time My Stomach Orgasmed.

Why?

Because I dispatched a swank cheesecake down my oesophagus, sensually tickling my insides all the way down my pristine intestine.

Yummy yummy fattens you long time.

Sunday 15th February 2015 - 5.48pm, in the Vue Cinema in Islington : The Time My Ovaries Stopped Working. 

Why?

Because I watched two planks of wood rubbing on each other, trying to set themselves on fire, not realising that 50 shades of grey wood totally points towards necrosis of the ugly appendages, and thus inability to ignite any sort of lust.

Sucky sucky drags you long time.

That was pretty much my Sunday : getting fat and gathering momentum towards my Cat Lady status.

Shitty Week Screenshots I Screenshat To Evidence Shiteness

In the name of the Holy Ozzy, The Lemmy & the Jimi, I hereby REBUKE this week, its bizarreness  and fuckery draped in a 40 hour contract, and I hereby sanctify my future weeks against any more wierd ass shit. Ave Motorhead ! *throws Holy Whiskey*

For the Lord Windows 7 (and its Snipping Tool) are my witnesses, I have screenshat some of the office shizzle for posterity, and evidence to be brought up when I eventually let go of my mind and my clothes, and run away naked towards Russell Brand's house for an ad hoc application to a goth concubine job in his harem.

Day 2 - Casual Convo Between Two Humans Who Literally Met Professionally 10 Hours Ago.

 Day 3- Where I Come to Terms and Address my Nobility.

 Day 3 - Where The Soon to be Ex-Colleague (grey)  makes the Newbies Wet Themselves.

Day 4 - Where The Soon to be Ex-Colleague (black) Makes the Newbies Shit Themselves.

 Day 4 - Where The Newbies Wipe Themselves and Decide to Drink Into Oblivion.

Day 5 - Part 1 - Where The Newbies Wind Themselves Up Into Constipation.

Day 5 was so fucking insane, it needs its own post. It also requires a special shamanic ceremony, involving a call upon the Fermented Spirits and a special shout out to my Power Animal, the Famous Grouse.

All Hail Bloody Mary!

Dude, Where's My Car(eer)?

Revelations, Book 3, Chapter of the Motley Crüe, Book of Lemmy.

Day 1 of New Job.

8.30am. Nervous Newbies (myself and Cool Colleague) formally introduced to the Company's members of staff, currently comprising of 4 people. Nervous Newbies left to witness and rot for the next 3 hours in an atmosphere so tense, that both were actually expecting Bruce Willis to come, detonate a farty bomb and serve us the actual slices of awkward with an extra bit of uncomfortable silence on top.

Nervous Newbies are left to lunch on their own, gazing into their £6.50 London Salad, covered in grease and smothered in TotalJobs.com lies.

In a sobering moment of  'Fuck social expectations, Imma say what I think about this shit', they exchange the simple words : 'Dude.What. The. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck??!???'

Day 2 of New Job.

Narcoleptic Newbies bond over the synchronised eye-rolling their respective eyeballs launch into upon the viewing and listening of the induction material, most of it dating from Moses' times - pre Hollywood days.

Narcoleptic Newbies bitch on their way to the coffee machine and realise :

Day 3 of New Job.

Numb Newbies talk about drinking alcohol at 8.35am.

Numb Newbies talk about jumping off the windows at 9.18am.

Numb Newbies talked into not talking by a managerial stare so powerful, it cancelled Bruce Willis' second scheduled visit, and replaced it with a visit from Silent Bob.

Day 4 of New Job. 

Neurotic Newbies get cracking. Gather intelligence through internet sleuthing and bribing of soon to be ex-colleague with a Chicken Butterfly meal at Nandos.

1. Over the last 7 months, 3 people have left a workforce which was comprising of a grand total of 7 people; thus indicating an exodus more intense than what happens when Nickelback plays in a rock club.
2. Out of the defectors:
•  One left a scathing online review of the company, notably indicating that the manager was the Second Coming of Hannibal Lecter crossed with Barbra Streisand. Said review also indicated a tendency for the Owner to mould his behaviour on Jar Jar Binks from Star Wars.
•  The other dragged Wierdos Limited to Employment Tribunal to recover the bits of his arse that got mercilessly spanked during his tenure. And he won his booty back.

Day 5 of New Job.

In a few hours.Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkk!!!!!