Tease...

Right, let’s just get one thing straight…. I am not a Tease!

I don’t know which dull witted Neanderthal of a man decided that if a girl will kiss you and not sleep with you it makes her a Tease, but if I ever get a hold of him I will beat him with a blunt object.

Repeatedly.

Let me just bring to your attention a very old, and very common, injustice. Women who fool around are sluts, men who fool around are players. It isn’t fair and it isn’t strictly correct but the one thing that most women are aware of when it comes to men is how they are perceived. The last thing we want to be thought of is ‘that tart from down the road’.

‘Hey Bill! I heard you had it away with that Cindy from Windmill Street?’
‘Sure did, Bob. The only thing that spreads quicker than Cindy’s legs is my utterly butterly!’

So excuse me if I don’t sleep with you just because you have bought me a warm glass of chardonnay! If I like you, I'm gonna kiss you if you make your move, but don’t expect me to run back to yours and jump between the sheets just because you took me for a drink. (Especially when you are thirty and still live with you mother.)

Since when did a kiss mean intercourse anyway? I remember when everything was done in stages. You let the boy get to one stage, then the next, then the next. If he wanted the goods he would have to be patient and persistent. The PP for the Peepee. Now I am all grown up and men seem to want to skip stage three and four and go straight for the end game. Whatever happened to courting? Romance?! The third date rule?! Actually scratch the third date rule, if the three dates are during a six month period it doesn’t count, he hasn’t proved himself trustworthy or dependable. He hasn’t proved that he isn’t gonna bugger off and not call once he has inked his nib basically.

Well if kissing a guy but not sleeping with him because I don’t trust him yet makes me a Tease, then Miss Tease I am. I would rather be the village Tease than the village bike.

Emotional...?

Just a quick note about something that happened while I was away.

I was at a BBQ happliy sipping a beer and marvelling at the fact that although I had drunk four or five bottles of beer I was sober, if I had done that with glasses of wine I would be halfway to table dancing by then. I think the key was I don't really like the stuff so I tend to nurse them a little, averaging about a bottle per hour. Needless to say later on that evening, when I switched to wine, I became drunker than a fish in a whisky pond.

So, I was there quitely musing at this realisation when my Brother asked if I was bored, I told him that I wasn't and was quite enjoying the comapny of my little brother (I was, I don't see him very often). He rolled his eyes at me.

I then proceeded to tell him about my surprising soberness, to which he replied 'Your not sober.' I insisted I was but he just shook his head at me like he was correcting a child, or (as he thought he was) talking to a inebriated person.

Realising there was no convicing him I inquired as to the source of this observation, to which he replied 'Your getting all emotional.'

Because I said I was enjoying speding time with him.

Emotional?

Wait till he sees me later drunk and crying because I've dropped my crisps...

It’s Not Fair!

I have noticed that there is still a bit of a child in me, and not just my secret enjoyment of cartoons! You see I was seeing a man, but it wasn't going well, many many problems mostly deriving from the fact that I am outta here in 6-7 weeks, and I had come to the decision that I was not going to see him anymore. I could tell his interest was waning, he kept cancelling, rearranging rain check etc etc so I though to myself, "Self, is this good enough?" To which the answer was a resounding NO!

So I hatched a plan, it was arranged that we would meet up Saturday night, well Friday turned out to be a little heavier than anticipated and to cut a long story short I didn't get home till 6:30 pm the next day and understandably feeling less than my usual perky self, decided to cancel on him for a change. Then, horror of horrors, it gets to 8 pm and still no call from him, cheeky bugger is trying to stand me up! What if I had had a bath, got dressed, and done my face, all in anticipation? All dressed up and nowhere to go? So I text him and he doesn't want to go out because it’s raining... I'm assuming he will melt. Then it hits me, I will never hear from him again, he will forever believe that he ended it with me! He will get drunk with his friends and when asked what happened he will spout some nonsense about it not working out so he just never text me again! When the truth of the matter was both of us knew it wasn't working and I was just as prepared to end it as he was! The only difference being I was beaten to the punch!

Now the adult in me says who cares? The situation was resolved and neither party was hurt, everyone can move on with their lives now. Part of me though, can’t help but stomp my foot and say "But I wanted to dump him!!"

These Thing are Sent to Try Us…

People that put other people down to makes themselves look like a big man, or to get a laugh, or to make themselves feel better about their own pathetic lives are just petty, ignorant arseholes and deserve to been lined up and shot!

Everyone knows someone like that, I don't know where they learn that it is acceptable behaviour, but the bastards are everywhere!

The sort of person that will say things like "Well you don't have a dog and bark yourself!" about their co workers.

The person who will point out when someone leaves early and play the martyr with their own work hours.

The type of person who will humiliate a colleague just to get a laugh from the rest of the office.

I have mentioned this person before, I believe I described them as a crack addict of public attention. Meaning that they crave the laughter and recognition to the point where they will stop at nothing to get it. Resulting in a cruel and twisted person who whom nothing is sacred, who will mock and jeer at anyone about anything as long as there is an audience to watch.

I hate those sorts of people and unfortunately I have the misfortune of working very closely with such an odious little man. His behaviour to date never ceases to shock me, bitchier than a teenage girl and crueller than someone who drowns puppies for a living, he continues his reign of terror, and as long as someone laughs he is happy. To be honest I think people laugh because they are grateful his attention is diverted, with such witty repartee as "You Loser!" it can't be the content. Frankly I have heard enough homophobic, misogynistic, and racist jokes to last me a lifetime.

On a day like today when he has the audacity to call me stupid, me stupid, I can't help but close my eyes and chant 6 weeks to go... Coming from the man who barely finished school, whose conversation makes Homer Simpson look like Einstein, and has spent his youth binge drinking on street corners, this man is calling me stupid!

Oh well, in a couple of months I will be in a whole new town, with a whole new environment and with a whole new set of problems. Although in the mean time I may put superglue on his phone, give everyone else a laugh for a change...

Let's Think Outside the Box for a Moment...

You know what makes me laugh about working in HR and Recruitment? The secret language, there are code words and phrases that everyone used. Everyone knows what they mean really but we can't just say that can we? Nooooo, political correctness and HR propaganda gone bananas, so here's some examples of the guff we send to the agencies.

• We have candidates with similar exposure in a lower salary bracket - He's too damn expensive!
  
• We have stronger candidates in a lower salary bracket - He's too damn expensive and not worth the money even if we had it!
  
• You don't have the right exposure for our clients - You don't have enough experience. Yeah I said it, experience feel free to call the age discriminating police!
  
• We have stronger candidates in the mix - What is this shit you have sent us?
  

See what I mean? Utter lunacy! And don’t even get me started on the Buzz Words…

“We are going to socialise this idea.” – Socialise? Socialise? So we are going to take the idea out get it drunk and introduce it to new people are we?

“We need to think outside the box on this one.” – Dear God! Have I been in a box this whole time and didn’t realise?

“Candidates in the mix…” - Mix? We are talking about people not raisins, they are not in a mix, mix is what you do when baking.

“We need someone who can hit the ground running.” – As opposed to all those people we hire who are just there to stand around looking pretty.

“There need to be as much visibility on this as possible.” – You there, open your eyes! Look at this!

Yes, Yes, I know what they mean, and I have even used them (it’s catching) but they are silly really…

To Cuddle or not to Cuddle?

Now, gentlemen, your attention please. When it comes to the end of the evening, just before you go to sleep and the cuddling issue comes up, I ask you to consider a few points.

Women are at their most vulnerable directly after sex. Cuddling is more about reassurance than anything else. Reassurance that we haven’t just done something that we will regret.

For men sex is about possession. For women sex is about giving something away. That’s why when women are raped they feel that they are robbed, that something is stolen from them.

Men take women. Women give themselves to men.

When you think about it, it’s just Biology. Women have to allow something into their body, an alien appendage.

So men need to understand why the post coital activities are important to women, it’s not pointless, try to think of it as calming an upset child. We revert back to our teenage selves worrying and unsure if we have just given our virginity to our first love or an asshole.

A few moments of your time, a little intimacy, a peck on the cheek and you’re done. Crisis averted.

Plus you have just put down the deposit for a morning blow-job.

Think about it.

One of Those Days

You know when you just have of those days? It’s like the big guy upstairs has a certain quota of unlucky per person but instead of spreading it out you will get a whole pile in one day for his amusement!

So far today I have managed to oversleep, then as a result of being late I ran out of the house with neither a brolly nor a coat. Upon my arrival at the train station it had started to rain. Still hoping to catch my train, I was unsuccessful of course, I made a mad dash to the station. In the 500 metres there is to the cover of the platform the clouds managed to pour out an entire weeks worth of rain, needless to say I was soaked through. So there I was soaked and shivering, cowering in the stairwell waiting for the next train, peering at the information board through rain spotted and slightly misty glasses.

Once I make it to work I have to go straight into a meeting with no time for coffee or breakfast and proceed to feel weak with hunger the whole way through, I’m just glad no one asked me any questions because my brain just doesn’t function when I’m hungry! Finally falling out of the meeting I proceed to squelch around the office, first locating a hair clip to hold back my unruly fringe (thanks rains) then breakfast. Once I was no longer malnourished I then turned my attention to the wet areas south of my ankles, remembering that a colleague had a small heater under her desk I decided to retrieve it. After bumping my head and crawling under not one but two desks I finally wiggled it free, and set it up under my own desk to dry out my shoes and feet.

Some how during my escapade under the desks I had managed to cut my leg, and fearing the cleanliness of whatever sharp object habituates under a dusty piece of furniture I though it prudent to clean the wound. Now bearing in mind I was still half asleep and already feeling a little dopey I figured I would uses some antibacterial gel for my hands in the absence of any wipes. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME! When I had finished jumping round pulling faces and breathing through my teeth, waiting for the pain to stop I reasoned that antibacterial gel was not supposed to go on open wounds, made a mental note.

The rest of the day has consisted of me banging my knee when I went to the toilet, dropping things, spilling my coffee, forgetting that I had put sugar in my coffee and having to drink it with two, breaking a nail, poking myself in the eye and falling over my own feet!

Anyone else think I should have taken a duvet day?

Still at least it is nearly the end, then I can go home and stay away from sharp objects until the day is over.

The Other Side of the Story - Blue Anchor

You know what I think is the most galling aspect of being let go? Not being able to have your say! I was recently let go of a pub I have worked in on and off since for the last five years and has been a big part of my life and the local community for as long as I can remember. I can name every landlord that has been in it during my lifetime, I have even worked for most of them. I know most of the regulars by sight if not by name, my family and friends drink there, and most importantly I care about what happens to the pub.

Most people my age grow up without a sense of community, it’s the times we live in, personally I feel like I have had community shoved down my throat during every meal and I think I am a better person for it! I believe I have the best of both worlds, I can go to work in the City and be anonymous but when I come home to my little village, with its little local pub, I get a sense of peace that is hard to describe to those who don’t know it. Some of the people I work with have lived in the big smoke their entire lives and have a real ‘London edge’ to them, this only proves to make me more grateful for living in a place where you can say good morning to a complete stranger and not receives an icy stare in response.

Now, having been a part of something for such a long time I find it particularly distasteful for an outsider to muscle in and tell me I don’t belong. It just makes my blood boil to hear stories that said stranger is running around telling people that this is “her pub” and that “she is the boss and people shouldn’t forget that”. Am I missing something? Correct me if I'm wrong but you wouldn’t have much of a trade if you continued to make your customers feel unwanted and unappreciated. That sort of you-can-like-it-or-lump-it attitude may be fine in a big city where you trade is different everyday but in a small country pub the locals and regulars have a say, well either they do or they will vote with their feet.

The Pub in question has been through a lot recently, the poor thing, one landlord leaving, a new set, then them leaving and then two sets of holding managers that leave a lot to be desired. All in the space of a year! Now no business will thrive with this much change but as long as they continue to do the basics i.e. serve beer, it will limp along, but no one ever stops to think of the staff. Every pub is run differently, this much I have learnt during my short years, everyone has their own style and how they want things to be done. As in every new job you get a probationary period to learn how to do things a certain way, but what if you are expected to just get on with it? New people, every other week but the staff is the same, desperately trying to please their new owners by learning as fast as they can how to do things their way.

Needless to say it didn’t work out for me, I was fired for doing something one way when she wanted it done another. Must have forgotten to power up my psychic powers that day as I didn’t quite manage to read her mind on that occasion. When I pleaded for another chance she informed me that this was “her licence” and basically that meant she could do what she pleased. Even when a valued customer implored on my behalf she retorted quite rudely that “she was the boss” and that “people should remember that”. Well my response to her is that she should remember that we have had four sets of Bosses this year alone and we aren’t the ones that are disposable.

As I started off by saying is that the most galling aspect of the whole situation is that while I am cast out in the cold she is sitting pretty inside her ivory tower, she is free to say whatever she want to deface my character and I cannot defend myself! Well, I'm afraid that just isn’t good enough! As ridiculous as it sounds I have been extremely upset by the whole situation, because you see it’s not just a job, I don’t do it for the money (although it is handy). I do it because I loved being part of something, and now that has been taken away from me, taken away by someone who doesn’t understand what that pile of bricks and mortar means.

So this is my way of fighting back! My way of getting my thoughts into the world and pushing back on those who would have me limp meekly away. This is my side of the story!

The Un-Dead in London

I realised the other day that I am a vampire. Yes, I am pale and partial to a nibble now and then, but that's not what I meant! I cannot enter a man's home uninvited, and like the mystical predator from ancient lore I am very particular about this. I have to be invited. I think this is some sort of reaction from the British politeness, manners and low self esteem, you do not enter someone else home without an invitation and I want to make sure you want me there.

So let me clear something up for you, 'You can stay if you want' is not an invitation, that is a statement that will always be met with the questions 'Do you want me to stay?', to which men always reply 'well I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.' Infuriating isn't it? But you didn't ask!! You made some vague reference to me staying if I had no one else to go or if I really wanted to, which puts me in league with a homeless person. Nice.

Let me let you in on a secret, if I stay... you. will. get. laid. Now, bearing that in mind I fell we can do better than 'You can stay if you want', how about please? It's a request on your part, you want to get some, we know it and you know it, so lets not beat around the bush. We have something you want, so the least you can do is put in your request. Would it really be so hard for you to say 'Would you like to stay over?' or even 'I would like you to stay' dare i say even a please?

I know you men are still labouring under the illusion that you need to treat them mean to keep them keen but let me point something out to the vast majority of you, blowing hot and cold is all very good, I am the first to admit it works, but the catch is when you are hot you need to be nice. Acting like you don't give a shit to our faces only pisses us off! The whole point is to treat us so nice that when you don't call for three weeks we are desperate for you to, then when you do we jump like a trained Chihuahua. If you act like you don't care, then don't call all we are going to think is what a prick and move on.

I speak from experience, I have fallen prey to it many a time, relationship games, don't you just love them! Actually no, I hate them, and have so far managed to avoid them (I almost fell off my chair when he called at the time he said he would.) So let's consider another thought, he's acting laid back because, shock of all shock, he’s a laid back guy. Which is fine, in my hectic, about to be turned upside-down life, a bit of nonchalance is welcome, we just need to work on the particulars.

Me = Vampire

All together now, 'Will you stay over, please?'

Of course, I will, in fact I would be delighted! Now I feel welcome and wanted, everyone's happy.

How far are you willing to let it go?

Everyone I know has a job, and with jobs come colleagues. Colleagues are an odd thing when you think about it, you spend more time with them than anyone else, they see you at your best and at your worst, and yet they aren't your friends. They are not people you choose to spend time with, you may not even like them very much, but you are forced into this situation of almost cohabitation during work hours. They are not friends, they are not strangers they are somewhere on the middle.

So here's the thing, a colleague of mine is going through some crazy personal issues, they are emotionally in turmoil. Of this I am all aware having made them tea and listen to their tales of woe, and to their plight I am sympathetic. Being a good colleague I have soothed and listened, especially when they started being brought to task with their work. Ay there's the rub. Their level of work is beginning to be affected, and being aware of what he/she is going through, how far are you willing to let it go?

You have sympathised with him/her, and listened when she needed you to but now he/she is dropping the ball with things and it's affecting you and your work, what now? Should you continue to let is go and hope that when he/she feels better things will improve? In other words behave like a friend. Or haul their ass over the coals until they bucks their ideas up? Neither options are great, either you are a doormat or the office bitch, not a persona you want to wear during office hours.

So is there a happy medium? Is it possible to be both a caring colleague and a whistle blower? What if the behaviour persists? It's not going to get better by itself, so biding your time is out, but is the answer really adding fuel to the fire that is already burning? What if you can't help yourself? I pride myself on doing a good job, when I am at work, my head is at work, and unfortunately this person's seems to be somewhere else. Is it acceptable for someone to bring down the team, like a lame doe at the back of the herd, or should the fat be trimmed?

Maybe it's kinder, as pandering to their needs doesn't seem to have helped, maybe some tough love is in order. I guess the big question is when someone's capability is being called into question, should their personal hardships be taken into account? If you look at their work with an ice cold eye and it doesn't come up to scratch, if you asses their recent abilities and find that they are not capable, then surely there's your answer. As harsh as it sound but should we really be taking into account people's personal issues when we are look at their ability to do the job?

Simple questions, are they performing to the standard required? No, but their dog died/brother is sick/husband left them... Here's the tricky bit, how much of their personal life should you be taking into account? If they are unable to perform the job that they are contracted to do then they are not capable. So in a review of their capabilities, the answer is no.

Harsh but true. One can always hope, though, maybe they will get the message and leave their personal stuff at home when they come to work, or maybe getting the boot is what they need. Yes, one can always hope for a happy ending, but London life, I find, is not always like that.

First Impressions

I had an interesting debate the other day that got me to thinking about first impressions and snap judgments, more specifically, the initial attraction nor non attraction when meeting someone for the first time.

Scientists and Sociological experts tell us that we make decisions about people within the first ten seconds, it's all to do with hormones and body language. It seems we are essentially animals at heart and it’s all about the way we smell and react to each other. That aside, our brains are also furiously working away taking in the hair, the face, the body, the clothes and that's all before the opening line. I have a friend who can scan the room and decided within seconds if she is interested in anyone in it, she usually mentally discards the entire room based on their looks and appearance (she is stunning so she gets away with only dating the crème de la crème), the result is quick and efficient, no lengthy decision process, a once over and she has a definite yes or no and I don't think she has ever wavered from her original assessment. She used to say that looks and sexual attraction came first with her and if she didn't immediately fancy someone, and by fancy I mean someone she wouldn't be adverse to getting down and dirty with, then they would never be anymore than a friend to her. The personality and emotional feeling come second, it would seem. They had to be Hot first, then if they were nice/sweet/funny it was a bonus and she would then proceed entertain the idea of going out with them (again, she really is that beautiful).

The conversation I had the other day was pretty much along the same lines, he stated that in every relationship you had to find your partner physically attractive in order for it to work, and it would seem that this is another area where I am in the minority! I agree that there has to be an attraction, but why does it have to be physical? Instead of ten second, I usually give people about ten minutes, usually by then I can tell if I am kinda interested or not. Now don't get me wrong I am no saint, if a man repulses me then that's that, I'm not doing charity here. I have, although, often found myself noticing a guy has a great smile once I know that he is really funny, or thinking he has great hair if I know we have something in common. If a man is beautiful and strolls up and bores me to tears I won't be attracted to him, no matter how pretty he is. Where as if an average looking man makes me cry with laughter than I will probably be making him breakfast later...

So here lies my point is attraction purely physical? Is it possible to find yourself truly attracted to a person when you initial reacting to just his looks wasn't as positive as when you left? Does it have to be instant? Or should I be looking for that love at first sight, stomach flipping sensation because frankly, I'm not sure I believe in that. If by the end of an evening/date/meeting you think that you have met someone smart/funny/sexy should you be wary if you did not immediately think he was better looking than Brad Pitt? And what about if you've know them a long time? I can recall a gentleman that when I first met him thought he was nothing special, I even went so far as to think his reputation as a Love Lothario was largely exaggerated, needless to say my opinion changed, but the question is should it have? Say it had turned into a relationship (which it didn’t) would it have eventually become stale and boring because I wasn’t attracted to him in a purely physical manner? Or would it have been better as his Charm and Wit would continue to impress me even when his beer swilling habits gave him a gut and he could barely see his equipment let alone use it efficiently? Who knows!

One more thing, what if you’re no Angelina yourself? Should you still be holding out for Brad? Or should you have more realistic targets? If your willing to settle for nothing less than a Greek God, what happened when the God wants a Goddess and not a pasty HR Administrator, what then? Alcohol and a punctured condom? If it’s all the same with you, I will stick to my way; I may not get Zeus, thunder god of my bedroom, but at least I won’t have to worry about my straighteners shorting out.

London Lads vs. Brighton Boys

I was invited to stay at a friend’s house for an evening over the long weekend; she lives in Brighton, so obviously I jumped at the chance of an evening of fun and sun by the beach. So I turn up and we spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, reminiscing about our ill spent youths, where and what people are doing now, past and present relationships and the topic of sex might have come up once or twice as well.

Then, we went out for a night on the tiles, I was taken to a few bars and introduced to Tuaca - a Brighton shot that was quite yummy, and we ended up at a club called Coalition. After an hour or so of serious dancing my friend went out for a cigarette and while I waited for her to come back found myself being chatted up by a very cute Australian Guy. Shortly after my friend decided she had far too much to drink and should take herself home to bed, my new Australian friend requested that I stay, and he asked so nicely I decided that it would be rude not to! After a fun filled evening, night and early morning with the Australian I ended up back at his place. It was upon waking up at his very nice flat, being given some very nice coffee and repeating last nights performance on his very nice corner group sofa that I got to thinking I could get used to this. When he dropped me back off at my friends in his Porsche I really was converted.

It started me thinking about what I had gotten used dating in London and maybe the Boys of Brighton had the edge; the Australian being my second Brighton Boy I feel inclined to examine the evidence.

First we have the flats: nice, beach adjacent, clean properties that are spacious, well furnished and solely occupied. Compare this to cramped, cupboard sized flats, overlooking dank alleyways and usually with one or two flatmates included. Flats are more expensive in London, I know, and there is less space so everything is pocket sized for your convenience but I've got to admit when it comes to real estate the Brightonians have got it licked, who wants to bounce around the bedroom like a ball in a pinball machine when you can run laps in the living room?

Then we have the cars, both Brighton boys had beautiful, and expensive convertible type cars where as most London lads don't even drive. Granted you don't need to drive in London, in fact it is preferable not to, but being greeted with a Porsche when your boy toy offers you a lift home instead of a moped made me feel all warm inside - but then, maybe that was the heated seats.

Finally there is the image, and that almost indescribable cool factor. Now don't get me wrong, I like a man in a suit, and most London boys clean up very nicely, and on a daily basis too, but after a while I get the impression that they have become style robots, spending so much of their life in the grey suit that mentally they have become a grey suit. I also think that the high stress lifestyles has bred a strain nervous dispositions, terrified of losing their jobs and climbing career ladders with the hunger of that of a small country means that most London boys spend their time wired up to blow at any second. Much like a highly excitable puppy, cute in a nervous way, but one false move and it will pee on your carpet. In Brighton it was refreshing to be surrounded by calm, collected people who are so completely at home in their own skin you can't help feeling more relaxed yourself. There is self expression on every corner, be it clothing, tattoos, piercing or hair, creating diversity that one usually only sees at the pick and mix counter.

Now I feel I haven't been fair to my London Lads, they are responsible for a fair amount of my past shenanigans, it is not, after all, their fault, they have evolved from their environment. Like a wary traveller suddenly coming face to face with a bird of paradise after being used to sparrows, I was dazzled by the bright feathers of the Brighton Boys, but let's face it; I am at heart a London girl. I think if I was to fully convert to their Brighton way I would soon be exposed as a fraud, my cynicism and insecurities would crack through the shiny exterior. So maybe I should stick with what I know, I mean really, a little neurosis is healthy isn't it?

What Shall We Do Today?

A quick pet hate, picture the scene, it's the morning after and your lying in the afterglow of your coital activities, the sheets are crumpled, your hair is a bird nest and with any luck you've barely slept a wink. Your muscles ache, your toes are tingling and all you can smell is sex, sweat and spit. Then comes the dreaded question, "what do you want to do now?" Umm, Now? "What shall we do today" Today!?

I hate this question, normally you are at their place and unless you are super organised and/or physic you only have to wear what was torn off you a few hours ago (or a couple if it was a really good night) and therefore only have the one crumpled set of clothes from the night before. Your spent most of the night rutting like wild animals and the rest of it tangled in each others arms and now you want to spend the day together as well? Let’s start with the practical reasons, I do not have my things here, and even if I want you to believe that I am a low maintenance, easy-going girl, it still takes more than the travel toothbrush and tub of Vaseline I have in my purse to create the vision you picked up the night before.

"You can shower here" - Oh great, so you have stocked the high shine conditioner it takes to tame my hair have you? And I'm sure you don't mind me using your razor on my legs and arm pits, I'll just de-hair the areas I sweat most out of, then you can use it on your face, ok with you? You have already purchased make up remover, I'm sure, unless of course you like the "escaped panda from the zoo" look, do you? No of course you don't, and of course you haven't. Then you're hoping I have packed my own makeup to reapply, after I have had to scrub my face raw with a tea towel come facecloth that smells of mildew and has questionable stains. You will not complain one bit that I have to use your expensive, concentrated "a little is enough" post shave balm, liberally on my face an neck to salvage the damage done by the combination of no sleep and no makeup remover. I may even need to use a little on some toilet roll to remove the more stubborn mascara, I may have to use half the tube, but you won't mind will you? Not to mention all the rest; shower gel, assuming you have some, deodorant, yes I will smell like your brother making you more confused than a teenage boy, and yes I will have to turn my pants inside out, you are not the only ones who know this trick (assuming I can find them).

After all that I have to put on the clothes that I partied in last night, if I am lucky they are jeans and a top and they are clean. If I am unlucky (and more likely considering current situation) they are a revealing dress, which is the opposite of comfortable, high heels that can no way be camouflaged as day wear, and tights, which were probably laddered in the process. So there I am in my "so sexy the night before, so trashy the morning after" dress, bare white legs and ridiculously high heeled shoes, good for club wiggling, bad for day walking, and you want to go do something?

Practicalities aside, aren't you sick of me? You saw me all of last evening and more of me last night, let take today to reflect. I need some me time, don't you? Half the fun is going away and getting those delightful little flashbacks of the night before while you are soaking in the bath. You call your friends, get some laundry done, eat something unhealthy, take a nap, moisturise! If you miss me send me a text, we love that! Don't hold me hostage! Be a man and take me home, we can grab lunch the day after; it doesn't need to be now.

What shall we do today? Nothing. The questions should be what we shall do tomorrow or better yet, what shall we do next week?

Barmaids Flirt – It’s our job to!

It has been brought to my attention that men are labouring under some kind of delusion and I feel for the good of womankind they need to be snapped out of it.

I work in a pub on Saturday nights, I find it a useful little earner in that it keeps me busy and it's cash in hand work: it makes me feel less guilty about buying that £3 bean salad from EAT which is not even the size of my fist. So, I am a part-time barmaid, and to be clear I am YOUNG part-time barmaid. Less than 25 years old for God’s sake, and the gentleman in question was aware of this. The gentleman in question is 36 but he looks older. He is also a beard wearing, bitter drinking, national trust gardener who is rumoured to pick up road kill to take it home to cook and frankly, looks like he might. Now none of that has ever really mattered to me, why would it?

Now here comes the part to burst thousands of male bubbles... brace yourselves. Any good barmaid worth her taps knows how to flirt with the customers. Now listen closely, we flirt, smile and chat and you stay in the pub and have a good time, you buy more beer and everyone's happy. WE DO NOT FANCY YOU. We are paid to do this! Do you think we like Rod Stewart and Abba that much that we want to listen to it uninterrupted? Hell no! At best, bar work is tedious and repetitive, so chatting to people is the only entertainment we got going for us.

I knew Crusty Man took a shine to me by the time he leered at me; it's the sort of look that makes a girl stand up and tug her skirt down. So he turns up, he hands me a card, tells me the company he work for are having a party next week and if I want to go I should call him. I was so shocked I stammered out “thanks” and put the card on the side, and then he downed the rest of his pint and scampered off.

So to prevent any further confusion, I'm telling you now, the next time you think you have a chance with the barmaid, stand in front of the mirror, take a good long look at your self and ask yourself one question. Do I resemble her Dad?

Peaceful Protest?

Yesterday morning, I freely admit that I was a little disapproving if the "crusty bashing" that was being spouted in my office. The general consensus was that the protesters were lazy, lay about soap dodgers with nothing better to do. One person even commented that we should go down and do a recruitment drive as there would be plenty of people there who were unemployed, I believe the most common joke is that today will be less populated due to most of them picking up their giro.

To begin with I thought it was a little cruel to stereotype these people and think the worst of them. Sure most of them were a little hippy-ish but that's doesn't not meant that they aren't well mannered and educated people! If they choose to express themselves in a manner that includes nose rings, camouflages trousers and Mohawks, who are we to judge?

In the cold light of day, the morning after, I have changed my mind. Peaceful protest? PEACEFUL PROTEST!!! I don't think throwing a screen through the RBS window was particularly peaceful, or the fires they started around Bank station. They had to be driven back towards London Bridge at 2 in the morning, like the devil's minions being driven into the sea! All you needed was the police to carry swords instead of riot gear and you have a scene from Lord of the Rings. A man died for pity's sake, I know it was natural causes, but maybe the Paramedics could have been more help to him if they didn't have to contend with bottles being thrown at them.

What are the rest of the world going to think of us? We are supposed to be a nation of queues, crumpets and tea but we are showing ourselves recently to be more a people that enjoy riots. If it’s not hooligans being banned from football matches its peaceful protests turning into wars, as a country we appears to have “Little Island Syndrome”.

So yes this morning I have changed my opinion, lock all the Crusties up, give them a wash and a shave and make them work for a living. How about when they can honestly say that the Economic Crisis is affecting more than just the price of tobacco in their roll ups, they can have a say, until then they should keep their violent “protests” to themselves!

Dispelling a Myth

It has been brought to my attention that men are labouring under some kind of delusion and I feel for the good of womankind they need to be snapped out of it.

I work in a pub on Saturday nights, I find it a useful little earner in that it keeps me busy and it's cash in hand work; make me feel less guilty about buying that £3 bean salad from EAT which is not even the size of my fist. So, I am a part-time barmaid, and to be clear I am YOUNG part-time barmaid. Less than 25 years old for god sake, and the gentleman in question was aware of this. The gentleman in question is 36 (and no, I do not think that is old, merely a little old for me) but he looks older. He is also a beard wearing, bitter drinking, national trust gardener who is rumoured to pick up road kill to take it home to cook and frankly, looks like he might. Now none of that has ever really mattered to me, why would it? He seemed like a nice enough chap, and I never would have dreamed in a thousand years of thinking of him a potential anything in any way, shape or form. Just a guy who drank in the pub.

Now here comes the part to burst thousands of male bubbles... brace yourselves. Any good barmaid worth her taps knows how to flirt with the customers. Now listen closely cause this concerns you; we flirt/smile/chat and you stay in the pub and have a good time - you buy more beer - everyone's happy. WE DO NOT FANCY YOU. You do not have a chance to bed the barmaid; we do not find you irresistible. We are paid to do this! Plus if there is no one else in the bar, who else are we going to talk to?!? Do you think we like Rod Stewart and Abba that much that we want to listen to it uninterrupted? Hell no! At best, bar work is tedious and repetitive, so chatting to people is the only entertainment we got going for us.

Now I knew Crusty Man took a shine to me by the time he leered at me in the most grotesque fashion I have ever seen, a true old fashioned up and down with a signature lip curl; it's the sort of look that makes a girl stand up and tug her skirt down. After that I started seeing the signs... Girls you know what I mean. We can tell when you fancy us, you may think you are hiding it, but your not. It's obvious. Hell, we probably know before you do! So I'm seeing the signs and thinking, are you serious? You have a crush at your age? Oh No, not a crush, he thinks he has a chance. On what planet did that happen? I am barely into my twenties and I scrub up quite well thank you very much; I could have my pick of a number of men and this Flaky old tree climber thinks he can bowl up and ask me out? So he turns up, freshly shaved, just popping in for a quick pint before he goes on to another party. Yeah. Right. He wanted me to see him all tarted up, men are so predictable. He hands me a card, tells me the company he work for are having a party next week and if I want to go I should call him. I was so shocked I stammered out thanks and put the card on the side, and then he downed the rest of his pint and scampered off.

I ask you! I was mortified! I dare say I will never live it down. So to prevent any further confusion, I'm telling you now, the next time you think you have a chance with the barmaid, stand in front of the mirror, take a good long look at your self and ask yourself one question. Do I resemble her Dad?

Why is it never somewhere in the middle?

What is it with jobs? You are either horrendously busy, rushing round like a blue arse fly, or you are sat at your desk looking at the day stretched out before you, an endless horizon, wondering what your possibly gonna do to fill the time that doesn't involve Facebook or internet shopping. Don't get me wrong I love Facebook, I think whoever invented it was a genius, but there is only so much time you can spend on there without turning into a psycho cyber stalker! As for the shopping, unless you are a secret millionaire and only working to keep you occupied, there is no way you could actually purchase all the items you would find on your endless scrolling.

You see, it's a spiralling cycle being bored; you sink lower and lower into a lethargy that is hard to shake off once you have work to do. You find you do things slower and that time moves slowly around you...You will finish some immensely boring and tedious task with low levels of enthusiasm and when you look at the clock only a few mins will have passed. Slumping into your chair, gradually sliding into that nook that just holds your bum on the chair while your legs are sprawled out under the desk, your typing gets sloppy and the gradual need to go to the toilet is utterly inconvenient as it involves vacating your area and trudging to the porcelain palace. Of course once your there you pee as slowly as possible and laboriously wash your hands before grimacing at your face/hair/outfit and scuffing your way back to your desk.

Caffeine. Caffeine is the answer.

So you begin the process again, peeling your unresponsive body off your swivel chair and scuffing to the kitchen, for once being content to wait behind the sea of numpties discussing their latest hard-on's and hand off's (by this I mean their business bravado and bitching), casually leaning against the counter you wait until they are done. Then you can resume you position at your desk with a steaming mug of something with a lot of caffeine and/or sugar and wait for all the happy chemicals to kick in.

Sigh. It's a necessary evil in order to keep you awake until that magic hand on the clock tick over to 5 and you can escape home for a nap. Either that or until the next wave of urgent, "Must be completed ASAP" work comes filtering down to your desk; face it, it will be one or the other, never somewhere in the middle.

In My Opinion...

"The truth is often a terrible weapon of aggression."
Aldred Adler - Psychiatrist.

I have often gotten myself into heated debates about one particular subject, it is not one that people often agree with me on, so I thought I would give it one last go in writing so that I can express myself clearly.

I believe that people have a responsibility when it comes to their opinion, it is theirs and only they can truly know what it is, therefore only they can truly gage the outcome of giving it. It is most people's school of thought that if you ask for someone's opinion that the outcome is entirely their own fault, but how can it be when they did not know what the opinion was? If you ask for someone's opinion and it is negative or hurtful, the general consensus is that you are not allowed to feel hurt by it because you asked for it in the first place. I have often found myself in the situation whereby I have been on the receiving end of a negative view on my choices or actions and upon expressing my distress was informed "you asked for my opinion" as if it absolved them of the matter. If a person asked to see inside a box and inside was a poisonous snake, and they were bitten, would you say "they asked to see inside"? If you knew the snake was in there, are you absolved of guilt because they asked? No! You would have prevented it, even if you could not tell the person what was in the box, you would not let them open it.

I believe the same of your opinions. There are people who will shout from the roof tops hurtful comments and sweeping generalisations, all the while protesting that it was their opinion and they are entitled to it. To this I say, yes you are entitled to your opinion but you also have a responsibility for it, anyone and everyone can think what he or she chooses to, but to express your opinions you do so at the risk of others, so you should be careful. I have opinions about people in my life and the people in theirs but I have learnt to judge situations so as not to create hurt. If you are asked for your opinion normally it is because to that person it is valued, which means you are valued, with that in mind would you so callously contradict them? In your heart you disagree but you can see that the person believes they acted for the best and are seeking reassurance, so do you give your honest opinion? Even if they asked for it? Could you look that person in the eye, and tell them that no, you don't think they acted for the best, or that they are making the wrong decision, and watch their face crumple and still believe that you acted correctly? What if this person was your Friend, or Lover, and you were now the reason for that distress, you can tell yourself that it wasn't your fault as they asked and you gave, but you still have to look at the hurt you caused. Do you still feel sure?

Now I am not saying that in the right circumstances you shouldn't give you unedited opinion, and I'm not saying you should lie, but I do believe that if someone asked for your opinion you should be sensitive to why they are asking you for it. Only you know what it is and the damage it can do, so only you can predict the future outcome.

I personally will go on tempering my opinions so as not to do any harm, but I will also try not to expect the same from others. There are those that believe that an opinion when asked for should always be truthfully given, a noble sentiment, but they should not be so surprised when I am hurt by a hurtful opinion. I have been told "I just didn't tell you what you wanted to hear" to which I reply, if you knew what I wanted to hear why did you deliberately go against it? Honesty? A steadfast hold to the Sword of Truth? I find myself disinclined to believe such glorified protestations.

So I leave you with this, the next time you tell someone your opinion, knowing full well the probable outcome, look at your intentions; are they as honourable as you protest?

“We need lies…in order to live.”
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche - Philosopher

"Bitch!" - Think Again

It has come to my attention that the expression 'actions speak louder than words' is both apt and often misunderstood. I speak partly from experience and partly from my observations, you see I often wonder what people think of the stony faced girl in the corner, as often that can be me, and it occurred to me that if I have thought uncharitable thoughts towards that person that you have probably thought the same of me.

You see, 2008 was a hard year, in many ways, and as a result I find in 2009 I am not the same person I was. I, in no way think of this as a bad thing as a person should grow from year to year and learning from one's experiences and mistakes are the best methods for this. I am now far less trusting than I used to be, I am inclined to think the worst of people and I find cynicism comes quite naturally to me. When people object I say that I prefer to think this way as it lends to a life that is full of pleasant surprises instead of constant disappointment, but this is not entirely true. Yes, it is nicer to be surprised but that is not why I am cynical, I am cynical because that is what life has taught me, and I am nothing if not a good student. I'm sure I would be a much pleasanter person to have around if I smiled sweetly and was gaily optimistic about every man that asked for my number, or if I blithely trusted my employers to look out for my best interests, but, alas, I find that behaving in such a manner is not only stupid but unnecessarily painful. I salute those who have the energy and stamina to bounce back after very knock, but that, my friends is not moi. It is bad enough when they don't call, but it is worse when you were expecting, or dare I say, hoping they would.

So this is my point, that person we all know who sucks her teeth at the idea of a man fulfilling a promise, the girl who laughs sardonically when we are told that the redundancies are for the good of the company and the woman who rolls her eyes at the idea of the Boss being our friend; it is all too easy to write them off as a Bitch. I put it to you to wonder why? Life is hard, and London is harder, there is too much ego crammed within these grey walls. Most people have a long and hard day, underpaid and overworked at a job they could lose any minute, negotiating failing transport systems to get there in the first place. Couple this with a failing economy, knife crime increases, an everyday risk of cancer and stress levels are already high.

If London Life is hard, you’re already screwed if you are trying to maintain a London Love Life. Blood pressure and fatigue are already at dangerous levels, and you have trekked home just in time to receive a text message, "sorry, but..." Yeah, yeah you’re sorry, you didn't mean to sleep with me and never call, you didn't mean to flirt with me and then retract it all cause you sobered up and remembered your girlfriend, yeah, yeah, you didn't mean to. (You see? and I'm not surprised.)

In conclusion, I implore you instead of hissing bitch at the woman who cuts you up in order to jump on a tube, or the girl who is rude in a bar, think to yourself about what I have said and look for the pain behind the mask. Think about the last time you were rude to someone because your Boss was being an arse, or the last time you snarled at a passerby because you preoccupied with thoughts of what went wrong with that guy.

Bitch? Think again.

Things I have learnt during my short time living

1) You will never be more beautiful than you are as god intended, so fucking around with creams, colours, chemicals and other crap will not make any difference.

Don’t get me wrong, a bit of blush and some mascara can enhance your face, but painting out all the colour only to paint it back on over top is pointless and ultimately a mask more than makeup. Sure, cover up a spot, who wouldn’t? Don’t cover up your face; you might as well be a Geisha. Its insecurity plain and simple, it would be easier to wear a veil, the most amazing thing to me is when someone will wake up fresh faced and grimaces at the mirror, they will then spend 20 minutes painting on concealer, foundation, powder ,bronzer, blusher and not look any different. The real tragedy here is that they can’t see that they were beautiful before.

2) Men are all the same, no matter how keen they are at the beginning, once they get what they want, you won’t see them for dust.

You can have as many rules as you like, as many conditions, the fact is that During the 1700’s a man called Casanova showed men that they can behave like animals and be admired for it; oh, and how they learned. They are now adept at our tricks, they will text everyday, they will tell us that we are beautiful/stunning/gorgeous, and the experienced can even spin lines like ‘you make me feel something I haven’t felt in years’. Then once they have got you in bed it will change, they will become distant, or generate ‘issues’ until they have wriggled free and we are left as used and discarded as the condom from the night before.

3) Being attractive does not make dating any easier, if anything, it makes it harder.

I have often queried my lack of luck with men and have come up with the following disappointing reasons.
My standards are too high – um, standards? As someone who has a disappointing love life at best, when a guy takes the trouble to ask me out, I am inclined to give him a chance at bat. I may not go on a second date, but I would accept a first. So this I don’t believe, it’s not like I am turning down offers.
I intimidate them - I ask you, how silly is that? Suffering from a shyness at times that can be quite incapacitating, I am fully sympathetic to the plights of men and the stigma that they should make the first move, but shyness is not something that most men suffer from. If nothing else it is beaten out of them during their school years. So shyness not withstanding, I have been told that most men will not approach beautiful women for fear of being rejected, it’s only the egoistical losers that will have a go and this is because they no longer fear rejection. For starters, I do not believe that I am that attractive as to inspire some awe inducing fear. I’m just a girl who scrubs up fairly well, so the idea that a man would look at me, like what he sees, but then think better of it, is frankly disheartening.

4) People in positions of power are not always deserving of it, you are just as likely to get a manager who is an idiot as you are one who is intelligent.

I think the less said about this the better, lets just say that during my time as a working woman I have noticed that my superiors haven’t always been what you would wish them to be. Some of them are lazy, judgmental, inexperienced and inept. Of course, their human as well though, aren’t they?

5) Experience counts, but not for everything.

I think one of the most important things people need to learn is that Pride is the enemy and that there isn’t always just the one way of doing things. You may have been doing something one way for a long time but that does not mean it is the only way, and if a fresh face comes along and wants to try another way, let them. People’s brains don’t always work in the same way so what seems logical to you might not be seen the same way by someone else, the worst thing you can do is close your mind and not listen to someone with less experience than you, they may be wrong, but you will never know until you listen.

I will update you further as my lesson's in life move forward. :)