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.