28 Wise, Wise Wisdoms

Yes, it's that time of year again!  I've come through another whole 12 months during which I've saved up golden nuggets of priceless information, especially for you( Priceless because they won't accept them at Cash 4 Gold).  You lucky, lucky devil.

...Or I've not given this post any thought whatsoever until today, the day after my 29th birthday, and I've sat down to share whatever mulch I can squeeze out of my head (lush).  I've had a week off work, so the contents of my head have been diluted by Budweiser and day naps. Here goes....something!

1.  Budweiser tastes better when it comes out of a bottle with a screw top.  I don't know why.  Maybe that's a fact for me to share next year.

2.  Running for months on end on a sore foot doesn't "toughen it up."  This is a strategy for idiots. My brain, it turns out, was giving me alternative facts.

3.  Speaking of alternative facts... Next level alternate dimension shit does occasionally happen.  We live in a reality where a toupee wearing, baby handed man with no political experience is farting out terrible decisions from a mouth that looks like an anus is in charge of all of 'Murica.  #whereisdoctorwhowhenyouneedhim

4.  29 is not too old to get that Blink 182 tattoo you've wanted ever since you had a constellation of spots and wore eyeliner blacker than your soul (so...this morning, then?):

 

*endless squealing and heart emojis*

Yes, I am aware that with a heart tattoo and a movie quote on the same arm, my body is starting to resemble my secondary school notebooks.  No, I shan't be laminating myself.

5.  It is possible to discover that you are very very much a "dog person"rather than a cat person as you'd originally believed.  This knowledge comes after becoming the proud pet parent of a big-eyed, poop eating squish monster from the land of Cute.  I mean...after becoming a responsible dog owner.  HAVE YOU SEEN MY DOG?? HE IS THE COOLEST DOG IN THE WORLD AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, AND, just....

 SEE?!!

6. Guided meditation (see Headspace app - is v.g) is magical, especially if you're alert.  If no, you still win because you get to have a little snooze in the name of zen.  Am so spiritual now. 

7.  Crossfit has changed both my physical shape (I have actual arms now, as opposed to floppy toothpicks) and brain.  I no longer wish to be Beyonce (wouldn't turn down the offer to become her if it arose still, though.  Am not crazy), but instead pine over being a Davidsdottir or a Leblanc-Bazinet.  If unsure, do a Google image search.  But only after you've read this, because you'll disappear down a rabbit hole of impressive muscles and tiny shorts that you won't want to be rescued from.

8.  Putting a deposit down for a house does not make you feel more grown up.  It makes you feel more like a lady baby than ever because what do I do when the heating packs in?  What if I set it on fire by accident?  Do I have to start opening post addressed to "the home owner" now? What if someone steals it from me in the night?  Like, the whole house?  What if???

9.  You can only put on so much weight before you have to stop accepting friends' reassurances that "It's probably just muscle from all that going to the gym that you do."  If there is such a thing as a muffin top muscle, mine is in fantastic shape.

10.  Since A started making Youtube videos, I've learned that I turn into a duck voiced weirdo with the posture of a velocoraptor when a camera is pointed at me.  Or I look like that anyway and have only just realised. 

Nah.  I choose denial.  It's the camera.*

11.  Unless I'm drunk, it is now nearly impossible for me to stay awake after 10.30pm. Or wake up after 8am.  My body clock has either reversed into "small child" mode or "pensioner" settings.  

12.  Middle Sis is queen of buying gifts that both warm the heart and insult.  Case in point:

 

Cheers, pal

13.  There is a tipping point where the effort it takes to get drunk (3 day hang overs, wild mood swings & the need to sleep into the next ice age the following day)  starts to outweigh the fun of it.  The see saw I'm on is not going the way I'd like it to.  Boo hiss.

14.  These annual lists are getting so long that there is a new need to "refuel" with "brain food" part way through it.  Golden syrup on toast if you're interested.  

15.  The Harry Potter books are SO chuffing GOOD and if you stop at book 4 as a teenager because you've decided you're "too cool" for them, then you're wrong.  Dead wrong.  FYI, your favourite trousers are luminous pink flares.  You're not too cool for anything, little buddy.

16.  Nikes and Heavenly Feet are the only shoe brands you need. Ever.  Also Doc Martens, but you're too poor to buy those right now, and if you try to break a new pair in, your already battered foot may well finally fall off.

17.  It is possible to cut your own fringe and not be ridiculed as long as you don't grab the whole thing and lop straight through it like you used to. 

18.  A moustache looks frighteningly natural on me. 

It's like looking at Hulk Hogan's sexy younger brother, isn't it?

19.  28 is a big number of things to think up a list of stuff for.  No, I'm not stalling or filling up space for the sake of it.  Fine, you write it instead if it's so bloody easy!

20.  I must practice patience.  Maybe should stay awake for longer whilst listening to Headspace...

 

21.  Binning things is great!  I have thrown most of my current house away in readiness to move into the new one within the next couple of months.  I'm practically besties with the guys at the local rubbish tip now, and chucking out clutter makes me feel all clean inside.  Until we actually need something.

"Beck, have you seen the coasters/spatula/entire book case?"

"Erm..."

22.  Dogs are like tattoos.  You can't stop at one.  I have big plans to get a little sidekick for Jesse.  I firmly feel that he needs a tiny chihuahua body guard because HOW FREAKING CUTE WOULD THAT BE??  I could buy him a little "security" t shirt and...when did I become this person?

23. Audio books and podcasts are the absolute balls.  I can't walk the dog, go anywhere in my car or generally leave the house without being told a story or learning something about how my brain works.  I need a constant supply.  I couldn't name more than one person in the charts right now (one person is Justin Beiber/Bieber...  Is that right?  Am I hip now?), but I can reel off pop psychology factoids and anecdotes that aren't actually mine like a crap Yoda.

24.  It isn't enough for me to be a bit of a deaf bird.  I now own glasses and a hearing aid, but there is only so much space behind my right ear, so I have to choose whether I would prefer sight or hearing at any given moment.  Ooh! Or I need to invest in a monocle!  Where can I get  a good monocle?  Does anyone still make those?

25.  All of the movies have now been made.  Everything produced from here on in are going to be reboots and/or remakes.  Not all of them good.  I wanted to like Ghostbusters so badly...*sniff*

26.  Taking a Facebook hiatus doesn't turn you into the clear headed workaholic you secretly believe lives underneath all the procrastinating.  It just makes you miss Facebook a lot.  Facebook is king.  All hail Facebook.

27.  Hoarding pretty notebooks because "you might need them for something" is a worthy hobby.

28.   After your mid twenties, it's a good idea to keep back at least a quarter of your salary for Yankee candles.  You don't know why you need the smell of "fluffy towels" and angel's tears in your home at all times.  You just do.  

Yeah, I struggled to come up with that many things.... I think on my next "Wise, Wise Wisdoms" post, I might just have to post a picture of me shrugging with the caption I dunno, I forgot!  Underneath it.  I hope that this year's wisdome are...umm...useful?

Bye!

* Andy Price Vlogs: if you want to see me duck out of shot in several weeks' worth of videos =)

Too Much Christmas: A Guide

Help! My multiple chins are suffocating me!  I don't think I've consumed anything that isn't made up entirely of fat or sugar since the festive period began.  I feel as though am turning into a wobbly me-monster.  Gutzilla, if you will.  Doesn't help that I've proper fudged my wonky foot up and I'm on a temporary, osteopath ordered ban from both Crossfit and running while it heals and all. Little to no exercise + ALL OF THE CALORIES is making me feel ever so slightly sluggish.  Not even sluggish and in slow - more like, I feel like a formless lump without vertebrae. Hrrmph.  At least I've been able to focus all my energy on growing this bad ass moustache.  Cool, no?

Andy "sideburns and lipstick" Price looking rather dashing too.

Been a weird month, hasn't it?  Soaring highs of snuggly (translate:drunken) Christmas family time and all of the obligatory "do"s leading up to the Big Day... Crashing lows of the inevitable hang overs accompanied by the depressing flurry of massive icons and influencers passing away.  Just learned of Carrie Fisher's passing, which felt like a kick in my cheese filled guts.  Such a funny, outspoken, admirable lady as well as a great voice for mental health.  Just.  Ugh.  Don't know what I can say that hasn't already been said better. I'm sure if she had anything to say about it, it would be in the form of a cryptic tweet, made up entirely of emojis. 

Instead of dwelling on feeling a bit morbid and watching the clock for when I have to go to sleep in preparation for work tomorrow (which I was doing for a little while there), I thought I'd hop on here and write something silly and try to raise a smile instead.  On December 27th, we're officially in that void between Christmas and New Years where nothing makes sense,  and the after effects of Christmas are fully upon us.  Here, my friends, is my handy guide to recognizing when you've had a bit too much Christmas:

Too Much Christmas:  The Symptoms

1.  Lack of hunger, surge in appetite.
The patient may claim to have "forgotten what hunger feels like."  At any other time during year, this will generally coincide with a loss of appetite, and the sufferer will have an aversion to food as a result.  In the case of and overindulgence of "Christmassing", the physical feeling of hunger will be missing, but the desire to eat food intensifies, particularly if said food is presented on a cheese board or in a Quality Street tin.  Unless that food is salad.  Because it is Christmas, and who eats salad at Christmas? Monsters and rodents, that's who.

God, I miss nutrients.

2.  Emotional Instability
After imbibing Christmas, you may not feel the correct emotions in any given situation.  This may have something to do with the fact that you've been piss-arseholed for a month solid and you are living in a constant merry go round of sugar and alcohol highs and lows.  Do not be alarmed if you find yourself laughing at "harrowing" TV dramas and crying when you see a video of a child getting a puppy for Christmas.  And then watching said video over and over again even though you are watching them through a misty veil of salty, salty tears and can't tell which moving blob is the little girl and which is the puppy any more.  

Mmm.  Salt.  Someone, pass the peanuts.  I've not eaten for thirty seconds.

3. "Where am I?  What year is this?"
 There is a high probability that at any point between December 24th and January 1st, you will have no idea what decade it is, what the time of the day is and who these people  in paper hats are around you.  Don't freak out.  Just do as the vaguely familiar people who all look a bit like you (relatives, perhaps?) are doing.  Keep your pyjamas on, watch only films that you've seen a hundred times before to avoid further confusion and just keep shoveling crackers (the edible kind, not the ones that go bang) into your face hole until it passes.  Hopefully, when you come around, you'll be in the right century.  Don't worry - I've also heard the ice age sucked, but the fact that you have a onesie on and access to the internet should be indicative that that's not where you are right now.

4.  Food Group Confusion
One of the more obvious signs that you've recently been off your tits on Christmas is that you may no longer be able to distinguish the difference between beer/wine and water.   This is temporary.  Eventually, you will remember that trusty, non-hangover giving H20 doesn't have bubbles in it and doesn't make you fall over or want to show your nan that "look, Nana, I can twerk!!"  

Similar confusion can also occur between food and oxygen.  

5.  Smelling/Being Flammable
A sudden increase in gifted bath and body care items often leads to an over use of scented products.  This symptom is innocuous enough and is usually the least damaging to the patient's health.  As long as they don't stand too close to naked flames for a little while.  Best save the Yankees for January.

Additional handy hint for men:  No, those ladies aren't fainting because of the "enticing" fug of Lynx that shrouds you.  They are passing out from the fumes.  Please alert the emergency services.

Happy holidays all, and I wish you a speedy recovery from all the festivities!

😘

Obligatory Pokemon Go Post (Sorrynotsorry)

There is a small chance that I may have cooked using chillis this evening and have just touched my eyeball.  Sweet Lucifer's pyjamas, it burns!!  Going to power through it though, because I'm a champ...

Hello!  This post is going to be about Pokemon Go.  Am being up front about it to save anyone with little to no interest who has been buffeted (mmm...buffet) around the face with the constant stream of social media updates about this hideously addictive game.  This is another such post.  Sorry and see you next post (please come back, I love you!).  I wish you well.

Now, the rest of you...look what's on my computer! 

 

 Why are there always bloody pidgeys?! My locale is riddled with the fuckers

I'm often out walking the mutt, so this game's turned out to be a fun little distraction while I'm plodding around the neighborhood twice daily.  Also when I'm sat down in the house.  And when I'm stood up.  And waiting in queues in shops.  And when I'm stuck in non moving traffic.

...Okay, pretty much all the time that my eyes are open.  There, I said it.  It's just a phase..the novelty will wear off soon.  Probably.  Maybe.  Hopefully (help me).

If your Facebook feed is anything like mine, it's congested with updates from two very opposing camps:

1. Ohmigod, I caught a Thingyfluffymon level bajillion etc etc here's how I did it waah this is fun fun fun my legs hurt and I'm sixty miles from my house without a bus fare!  Hahahaha!  Can someone ring my mum?

2.  Urgh.  I have no interest in Pokemon Go.  So little in fact, that I am going to write at length about how little I care about on every social media platform I have.  I mean, it's just catching pretend animals on your phone - so stupid!

Of course it's stupid! It's a game.  It has no higher purpose than to amuse.  You can make anything sound idiotic if you phrase it a certain way:

• Ugh, cooking.  I mean, it's just heating things up until they're edible,right?  
• Ew, reading.  Just, like, looking at patterns that make pictures in your head.  Sooo dumb! 
• Breathing, amirite?  Sucking in oxygen and blowing out carbon dioxide.  Just, like...in, out, in, out...all day long. Booriiiiing!

I am in no way saying that Pokemon Go is akin to breathing, but I'm trying to make a valid (?) point about the social media put-you-downers, m'kay?  Keep breathing, dear reader.  Is good for you!  Or so I hear.  I've been sucked into this game (Pokemon Go, not breathing.  I've been into that for as long as I can remember.  Am very good at it.  At least level 70) for about a week now, so I thought I'd fling together some observations for you.  

Chances are if you've had a go at the game, you are reading this only out of desperation for something, anything to distract you from the fact that the game's servers have crashed yet again.  Word of advice - take this sudden bump back to a reality to go look after yourself.  Drink water.  Eat food.  And for God's sake, man, wash.  You're starting to smell a little funky from all the additional walking.  This post will still be waiting for you once you have taken care of your basic non Pokemon related human needs.  In fact, I will wait.

Welcome back!  You smell delicious.  So.  My experiences thus far with Pokemon Go and what you can expect from it if you have yet to try it:

If you play it and go for a run, looking mental is totally unavoidable
Also, the run will never be as short as you expect it to be.  Your route will go from a simple 3 mile loop round the block to a crazy zigzag experience that lasts 2 hours as you visit "just one more Pokestop, it's really close!"  My 2 mile, slightly hung over bimble to pick up my car up from a local pub on Sunday turned into a 7 mile, messy sprint-walk-pause-to-wait-for-servers-to-work...sprint...stop...jog...sprint...thing.  I imagine from an aerial vantage point, I must have looked like one of those flies that bump crazily into invisible walls in the air, constantly changing its course.  Why do flies do that, by the way?  Do they have tiny mobile phones that we can't see? 

You will get unnecessarily emotionally involved when you encounter a new critter
OH MY GOD, I DON'T HAVE THAT CAT THING, IS SO CUTE! I must have it!  I will throw all of the balls...I need to own this cartoon thing that only exists in my phone and will impress no one.  It is the most important thing in the..oh, nearly got it..one more...

What.  

WHERE THE FUCK HAS IT GONE!! I ALMOST HAD IT!! Why are those children backing away from me?  How did I end up in the middle of a packed park?

You will sink to new lows
You can use your new imaginary friends to do battle with other people's imaginary friends at designated stops out in the world called Pokemon gyms.  Once you have kicked their Pokemon out of the gym it is guarding by whooping its ass and knocking it out, you can install your Pokemon and take the gym over for the team you represent (blue, red or yellow).  Victory and all that.  Through doing this, I've discovered the uncomfortable truth that I'm not above concealing myself around the corner from a small child who is bravely manning his post close to the nearest gym and kicking his virtual butt into the next school term, laughing openly to myself at his misfortune.  Take that, tiny human!  That'll set your expectations for the real world!  Sucks, dunnit?  Bwahahaha!

Your boundaries between game and reality may get a bit wonky
After one morning's productive "hunting," I may have forgotten how to play fetch with my real life, flesh and blood pet animal and thrown his tennis ball at him and not for him...more than once.  Needless to say, he wasn't captured and added to my statistics, much to my disappointment. He'd make a crap Pokemon anyway.  Does this look like a ferocious beast to you?

A wild puppy appeared!

Special attack: sooper derp

 Level: Minus 12

 

 Happy hunting all, and try not to make small children cry!

Becky & Jesse's Guide to Dog Walking Etiquette

Hey hi hello!

The good folk at Rover.com got in touch with me and expressed their enthusiasm for educating people on good dog walking etiquette so naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to show off my boundless (translation: questionable) wisdom (translation #2 desire to show off).  I know I get a handful of American readers - my stats thingy tells me this, so it must be true.  Unless it's lying to me for some reason - in which case, the robots are becoming sentient, so maybe you should turn off your computer and go hide somewhere where the internet can't get you.

Anyway, yes...If you're an American reader with a stinky, licky friend of the canine variety, Rover.com provides a service where it matches you up with local dog boarding, sitting and walking services should you ever need extra assistance in the care of aforementioned stinky canine.  Link!

click here for Rover.com's dog walking page

Sentient robots and handy websites aside, Jesse (my dawg) and I have put our thinking spectacles on and come up with a list of useful (translation #3 very loosely thought out) tips for dog walking etiquette. Feel free to wear your thinking specs to read if you like.  Here are ours:

Becky & Jesse's Guide to Dog Walking Etiquette

1. On preparing for the first walkies of the day:

Becky: Morning walkies will set the tone for the whole day for both you and your dog.  It's important to greet your walking partner with enthusiasm for the adventure ahead, no matter what the weather.  That way, you will both be alert and happy to head out the door with a spring in your step.

Jesse:  No.  Just no.  Sleep > everything else that isn't sleep or food.

 2.  On dealing with aggro neighbour dogs who are indoors:

Becky:  If you know that you are going to be walking past any homes that have other dogs in them who enjoy a good bark at the window, consider their humans' feelings and poor, battered ears by giving that home a wide berth.  This way, the owners get an few extra minutes of peace and no dogs need to be needlessly agitated.

Jesse:  When you know that shouty enemy dogs are nearby and safely behind glass, strain with all your might at their house, because they shouldn't be allowed to shout at you like that and besides, they can't get you through the window.  Puff yourself up like the proud descendant of the wolf that you are, prepare yourself to maintain hostile eye contact and then... immediately regret your decision and whine like a kettle coming to the boil at your owner for being mean enough to parade you in front of nasty, barky bullies.  Why they got to be so mean?

3.  On encountering other dogs outdoors:

Becky:  When you encounter other dogs whilst out on a walk, unless you know them and you are comfortable that the exchange between pets is going to be a happy one, it's best to err on the side of caution and give them some space, crossing the street if necessary.  Just as it is with people, just because dogs are the same species, it doesn't guarantee that they will all like each other or even fancy interacting with every single other soul they meet.

Jesse:  FRIEND!! OMG IT'S ANOTHER ONE OF ME, HE MUST BE MY FRIEND, I MUST MEET...wait...why are we moving away from them? They could be my soul mate!  They could have a butt that smells like biscuits and bacon!  They could...God dammit, human, where are you dragging me??

4.  On poop

Becky:  In no situation does anyone appreciate unexpected poop.  Pick it up in a bag and dispose of it in designated bins.  And don't be one of those people who unfathomably think it's considerate to bag it and then just leave it on the street.  Or worse still, make the painstaking effort of tying it to a tree branch.  One, it's gross and two..just...why??
 
Jess:  Ooh, unexpected poop!  I will appreciate it with my face.  Oh, happy day!

5.  On encountering other humans:

Becky:  Similar to point #3.  If you know the person and know that they are comfortable being around dogs, by all means, go up and say hello.  If no, give them space - especially if they are out running or cycling.  I've been that runner who has nearly fallen backside over boobs over a shin height Jack Russel or two that I've been too far into my own head to see.  If you're out with your pooch, just take a step to the side and let the hobbyist pass in peace.

Jesse:  Greet all of the bipedal creatures with gusto, even the ones on wheels.  People LOVE dogs, especially me on account of my cuteness.  If you think they are ignoring you, don't worry -they simply haven't seen you.   Place yourself directly in the path of their legs or wheels and they will soon be down at ground level with you, ready to be attacked with licks.


6.  On...or off lead (Or "leash" for you folk across the big pond with the sharks in it)?

Becky: If your dog has good recall, there's no harm in letting him have a good sprint around an enclosed dog park or through some long grass in a quiet field.  If you're walking in a built up area or close to traffic, it's generally best to keep your pal safely tethered to you.  For his safety and for others'.

Jesse:  Why do you restrain me in this manner?  I am wild!  I AM WOLF!  I deserve to be FREE!  Oof, that big metal box on wheels got a bit close.  But that's besides the point!  UNHAND ME!!

We are done looking thoughtful and wise now.  There are walkies to be had!  I hope you found this useful and informative.  Jesse hopes you found some treats and will be patiently awaiting a reward for all of his hard work today.  He likes those big, chewy chicken sticks the best.

Becky:  How can I craft a post that is both sensible and informative for the good of the dog owning masses?

Jesse:  Ball...snacks...walkies...poop...

Defier of Logic, Drinker of Coffee

So very, very tired.  I agreed..no.. wholeheartedly volunteered/flung myself at the opportunity to cover the early shifts at work for the second week running.  Not because I'm some kind of saintly, generous soul who thinks only of helping out her fellow man in the work place.  It's because it means I get to do a little "enjoy the rest of your shift, suckaaas!" dance on my way out the door at 3pm while my well rested co workers ferret away at their computers for another couple of hours.

While it is true that I do get to leave the office at 3pm (in theory, depending on how much left over faffage I have from the day's work), what I neglected to factor into my decision was the fact that I really, really like sleep.  If sleep was a person, I would marry it.  

But. In order to get to work on time and fit in a short dog walk (let's face it, a Becky walk - the dog has made his desire for "just another 5 minutes' sleep.." clear more or less every day that I've dragged him out of the house), I have to get up at 5am.  A weird hour which is neither day nor night, and when the only other people around are nurses coming home from night shifts, insomniacs and other people who have made bad decisions.  Because of this Godforsaken waking hour that no amount of coffee can remedy the effects of, I've been completely and totally bollocksed by 8pm like clockwork.  

I've been getting into bed at about 9 each night, praying for a solid 8 hours' sweet, sweet unconsciousness and instead waking intermittently for the first hour or so (after a decent to improper amount of Facebook scrolling of course) because I'm convinced that it's morning as the sun hasn't even gone down yet.  I'm later woken again when the residents of the house (Andy and my small zoo) come up to bed at a normal, functioning-human hour and then again several more times in the night because I'm having mini panic-wakes because "Agh! It's only a couple of hours before I have to get up!"

My life choices often defy logic in this kind of way.  Of course 2 weeks of waking at arse crack o' clock = sleepy and barely functioning.  And yet I would still lunge at the chance to go to work at 4am if it meant I could leave at midday.  Or even offer to do the same shift indefinitely ("You mean I get to leave at 3 EVERY day? Wow!  Sign me up!") if the chance came my way. Common sense eludes me.  Here are some other ways that I laugh in the face of logic:

I eat until I'm immobile

Anyone who has read more than one of these blog posts (thank you, you lovely person if you have!) will know that to say I am a fan of food is like saying that erroneously trusting a fart in white trousers would be a little bit embarrassing.  It's a massive understatement. 

Clarification: I have never sharted in public, but I couldn't think of anything more unpleasant that could hypothetically happen as an example.  Let's be honest, if I had that kind of experience, I would have blogged about it already.  I have little to no shame.  Also my thoughts go out to anyone who has lived through the trauma of public sharting.  Your bravery in soldiering on is commendable.  Everything in this paragraph is indicative of how tired I am.  Help me.

Moving on from shart based digression: I start every meal telling myself that I am going to eat only enough for me to be able gain an adequate amount of nourishment.  Like you're supposed to.  Once I have done that, I reward myself with further mouthfuls.  Sometimes I reward myself so much that I spend whole evenings clutching my stomach and asking the ceiling "why, God, why?"  God has never spoken back to me, because s/he knows I already know the answer.  It's because I am a greedy so-and-so who will eventually be the proud owner of four chins.   It's good to achieve things in life.

I broadcast my failings

Okay, maybe not failings.  Mishaps.  I'm cack-handed by nature and so am frequently betrayed by my own body's inability to perform simple tasks.  I've unintentionally thrown things I'm holding at the floor whilst standing still.  I'm skilled in tripping over nothing at all.  I've been known to choke on air...you know, that stuff that keeps you alive?  Lots of these things are done without witnesses, so if I wanted to, I could maybe portray myself as a semi capable hominoid if I really wanted to.  Instead, every time I've done something inexplicably stupid like temporarily forget what the number 9 looks like or trying to hang up my work phone by lightly smacking the receiver against the table instead of the holder, I immediately look for people I can tell about it.  I think it's because my body is constantly finding new and fun ways to fuck my day up a little bit and I want to share my awe of its stubborn independence and creativity with others.

I always find ways to piss Future Me off

This goes hand in hand with the whole eating-until-I'm-in-pain thing.  I know that doing the thing is going to have consequences I'm not going to want to deal with later, so in the long run, it's actually easier to not do the thing.  

However,  Present Me doesn't care.  Future Me is a whiny bitch who'll just have to suck it up and get on with it when the times comes.  Which is all well and good until Future Me becomes Present Me, who is gobsmacked and infuriated by Past Me's audacity at leaving Present Me all of those dishes to do/ making her have to get up from bed twenty bajillion times to go to the loo to relieve herself of the twenty gazillion pints of water she had before sleeping/ leaving her staring forlornly at her bereft bank account because Past Me decided that money is just a concept and therefore not real.  Past Me is a dick.

I assume that THIS will be the time that I drink and don't get a hang over. Every. Single. Time.

Self explanatory.  I blame Past Me.

Note: Am not currently drinking.  I might defy logic, the but having to get up at 5am after a Thursday night booze up in my jammies makes me want to cry.  I'm illogical, not insane.

I drink coffee as a remedy for stress

Yup.  That rocket fuel made ground-up of jitters and fear is the perfect, soothing remedy for a tough day at the office when you need your wits about you at all times.  It's so much easier to type when your fingers are engaged in involuntary jazz hands.  Genius.

I could go on.  Maybe I'll do a part 2 some time.  I'd better round this up now, because it's 5 minutes to 8pm and if experience has taught me anything, I'm about to fall asleep sat bolt upright with my mouth hanging open.  

I'll leave you with this -  A photographic depiction of logic slapping me in the face while I remain blissfully unaware of it:

 

Actually, it's me drinking a mojito at Christmas time, leaning on my own hand.  Also, I don't know if logic would wear a fitbit.

...Goodnight!

My Dog is a Better Person Than Me

 Yello!

Well, I only left a fortnight between posts this time rather than a month, so that's something!  Couple of people have told me recently that I don't post enough these days, which is both flattering and surprising.  Didn't cross my mind that anyone might read my waffle (initially wrote "consume", but was creeped out for reasons I can't explain by "comsume my waffle."  Consume my waffle, friend! *Lightly touches your knee, maintains intense eye contact*) on the regular.  Thank you to anyone that does.  Means a lot to me that my verbal vom tickles some people enough to have them keep reading these silly posts and encouraging me to carry on.  Just... shut up, you're being soppy!

...something in my eye.  

I don't have a great deal to catch you up on.  Went to a wedding do last weekend and did some moderate to heavy...to oh-my-God-your-poor-pickled-liver imbibing of spirits (not big, not clever, kids!). Here is an image of A and I looking presentable and sophisticated on a bus at 2am:

Sweaty fringed and gurning is the new classy.

Bar that lovely event full of friends I haven't seen properly for a while, I've not got out much.  Evidence:

Yeah.  Don't know.  Haunting, isn't it?

I've got to spend lots of time with my small zoo during my spells of hermitude, which has been nice.  I've been a dog owner (That sounds like too much responsibility.  Dog botherer? Not like that! Jesse and I have a purely platonic relationship.  Almost business associate-esque.  I feed him...he lets me feed him) for about 6 months now, and I've got to know the little bugger quite well.  Him and his many, many odd habits such as:

• Land swimming.
• Staring unblinking at you whilst sitting on your chest in a bid to stop you sleeping.  Ever.
• Running downstairs using only 3 legs - nothing wrong with the fourth, he just doesn't use it on descents for reasons only known to him.
• Cry-breathing even when he's clearly happy.

I've also come to the depressing realisation that if he were to wake up human one day (if we ignore the fact that it would be just a little bit fucking terrifying, especially as he shares our bed and I'm imagining him as an adult *shudder*), he'd be a better person than me.  Here's why: 

1. He loses his shit with joy at having the same food at every meal:
I envy this trait in my mutt.  Don't get me wrong, food excites me more than most things in life.  Life is just stuff that keeps me occupied between meals, and I think that people who "forget to eat" and find that sitting down for munchies gets in the way of a produtivity are clearly from another planet.  However, if I had to eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day of my life, I would probably have to top myself.  If I had my dog's boundless enthusiasm for "OMG MORE dehydrated meat nuggets!  THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!", I would be capable of eating those "balanced meals" I'm always hearing about at every mealtime as opposed to the cheese-and-sugarsplosions I tend to favour whenever I can get them.  

2.  Everyone is awesome!!
Jesse has zero social anxiety.  With people at least.  He does sound like a kettle coming to the boil whenever the neighbours' jack russell looks at him the wrong way.  He loves and trusts every single person he meets and will proceed to kill them with licks.  I have no desire to sample strangers'  sweat glands with my mouth, but I wouldn't mind not constantly telling myself that I'm "standing in an antisocial way" or "smiling weird" in any given situation where I'm with more than two other people.  

3.  If he doesn't want to do something, he won't.
Walkies in the rain is the main example that comes to mind.  I need walkies more than Jesse does - come rain or shine.  My excess twitchies that need to be walked off  regularly don't give a shit whether it looks like Oz outside or no.  Know who does?  Jesse.  He will allow me to drag him down to the bottom of the street while he acts like he's contracted rigor mortis of the legs, until he finally "gives in" and starts to play crafty buggers with me.  He will pretend like he's all "oh, okay, let's go then" until he finds something interesting to pee on (on a normal walk, this will happen up to 100,000,000,00000..0 times, so this in itself is not unusual).  He will then turn around to face home and start trotting merrily back.  "Yeah, we were going this way, weren't we?  Off we go, human.  Keep up now!"  Wily sod.

4.  He's not deterred by others' blatant hatred of him
Most sane people would back off after just one smack around the head, let alone several.  For six months, Jesse has been pestering the cat with relentless attention.  Walter has been responding with equally relentless hostility - choosing one day to scratch Jesse on the tongue.  Which was terrifying.  When your pooch starts inexplicably bleeding at the mouth and charging in in circles around the garden, you can't help but wonder whether you've adopted one of Satan's minions. Anyhow, this month something weird has happened.  The cat seems to actually like the dog now.  They're having snuggle times, during which Walter will only bat Jesse around the head occasionally - claws in - in an "oh, you!" kind of way.

Lesson learned:  If you get the impression that someone doesn't like you, follow them around day and night and stamp your feet at them until they cave in and have to at least tolerate you

5.  He's easily pleased
We actually have this in common.  If you give me food and let me out to run around occasionally, I'm yours.  However, his excitement is a LOT more visible than mine.  My favourite thing to do at the minute is to buy him things to chew on that are bigger than his head.  This causes him to completely forget how to use his body.  He'll clamp onto the chew with every muscle in his face while the rest of his body goes into freak out mode behind him.  Probably just as well that I don't express excitement in this way.  Don't think I'd make too many friends at Reading Festival this year by growling, whining and dropping to the floor like a bag of ferile cats.

...And for the sake of balance (sort of):

The One Way in Which I am a Better Person than my Dog

I don't take a dump by the front door in dirty protest of everyone else not waking up when I want them to.

Yeah, I'm looking at you, you tiny weirdo.

To Do or Not To Do

Writing this blog is very difficult for me.  

Not because I'm about to broach a sensitive topic.  Nor am I physically incapacitated.  Unless you count being severely creeped out by an ice cream van playing the most terrifying melody known to man (Greensleeves) on repeat as it does loops of the neighbourhood as incapacitation.  I hope that if he does try to kill me, I'll at least get a Fab lolly out of it.

My conundrum is that I've had the house to myself for the whole weekend.  A has gone to a stag do in Geordie Land (Newcastle, not a theme park where Mickey and Minnie Mouse have been replaced by Ant and Dec... But I would go to that theme park), leaving me do what I do best when I have more than a couple of hours alone:  Panic about not making the most of it by being at a perfect, unachievable combination of productive and relaxed.  To conquer the free time crazies, I wrote myself a sort of To Do list.  Because that's what cool people do:

 

This list is precisely why writing this is so difficult.  Free time plus listy thing should equal calm Becky.  Instead, two opposing trains of thought in my brain are now clashing:

• The one that wants a pat on the back and a cookie for completing said list.
• The one that thinks list is bullshit, because this is my time off, and I shouldn't have to do anything!!  Not even writing this stupid blog, because that's still doing something!!!

So...what do I do in response to my warring mental faculties?  I procrastinate of course! And I half ass more or less everything by using flawed logic to get out of it.  Thought I'd give you a lowdown of what went down on my super cool, not-at-all worrisome weekend home alone to give you an idea.  Am like Macauley Culkin (spelling?!) with boobs.  Sort of.  That's a mental image to give you nightmares, isn't it?

CrossFit
Done, dusted and kicked it in the arse!  Or I was kicked in the arse...Both?  Even went to an impromptu extra open gym session today, where they let a few of us in to play with big tyres for a while.  After several failed attempts, I managed to flip the big bugger!  So far, so good.

Long run 
To my credit, did a run.  By "long", I did have about 8 to 10 miles in mind, what with the upcoming Cardiff Half in October.  I did 6 and a bit and called it a day because there was a two mile stretch of hills at the end.  Each hill adds on an extra two miles, right?  Dubious reasoning aside, I did really enjoy this run.  I tried for the first time to keep within a comfy heart rate zone thanks to my Fitbit Charge HR, and it was blooming magical!  Didn't worry about my speed or lack thereof even once, and only needed to stop moving when I needed to avoid being squashed by cars.

Go see mum - there'll be cake
Mum's birthday yesterday.  There was cake.  There was also a doggy bag of leftover chilli and crispy bread rolls.  Happy mum's birthday to me! Also happy birthday to mum, who is likely to be sat in a foodless kitchen as we speak.  Standard protocol for one of my raids visits.

Avoid spending money
Walked in a daze around Tesco after open gym.  Wanted a sandwich, came out with coat hangers, bath salts (because I'm eighty now?) and a whole bunch of other shit that I don't need. Regretting not getting this, though:

"Yolo hair and body wash - for bathers that don't give a fuck!"

Scuse the grubby hands.  I may never wash my hands after flipping the Big Bugger (Heehee. New euphemism?)

Watch films that Andy won't

This translated as getting more pissed than anticipated on two teeny glasses of wine in front of Bridesmaids/The newer Hunger Games one and idly stroking the cat with an issue of Glamour Magazine on my lap.  Apparently when I'm home on my own, I morph into Bridget Jones.  All that's left for me to do this afternoon is get into my pyjamas (*cough* remain in my pyjamas) and lip synch ballads into what's left of my wine.  Ooh, I haven't watched Bridget Jones for a while, have I...?   

Sort out stuff for jury duty (food)

Doing jury service for the first time tomorrow.  Excited as it'll be a new experience for me, but concerned that there will not be ample feeding intervals.  Handbag apples and wads of cheese oatcakes it is, then.  Mmm, transportable food.

Clean house

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.... heee.  *slaps knee*

Write something fictional

Have decided that to do list is inaccurate enough to be considered a work of fiction.  Good job, Becky!  Excellent weekending!

 

Marathon Training Week 6/Evidence That I'm An Adult

Happy chocolate coma bonanza weekend!! Or "Jesus-Is-Back, hooray!" weekend, if your leanings border more on the spiritual than the gluttonous.  Something for everyone, is Easter! I've had a bit of a crappy week running-wise, so I'm not going to go into too much detail on that subject today.  Been over thinking everything from my speed to stupid things like how I position my thumbs, making the experience a bazillion times harder for myself.  I ran, walked and dragged myself around thirteen tough miles this week.  How I'm going to do that distance twice over in one run in June is beyond me.  But, knowing me, a bad week wod usually followed by a good one, so we'll leave it at a summary of my week, move on and hope for a better one next week!

Mon     Rest day
Tues    5 miles
Weds   Rest day
Thurs   3 miles
Fri        13 miles
Sat       Rest day/hang over (what? It's Easter!)
Sun     4 sicky, too hot-nightmare miles

Now that's out of the way, the topic I'm going to be covering today is grown-upishness.  I am twenty seven years young (sonny Jim!), and now that Spring is ...err...springing (?), my Facebook feed is turning into a combination of two different kinds of status update.  The classic Disney film Bambi was right all along.  Spring gets everybody twitterpated.  For those who haven't seen Bambi (what? How haven't you seen Bambi?  Did you not have a childhood?!):

 Here are the two statuses that I've been subject to:

Status One: Holy shit, we've made a human out of our combined DNA!

Status Two:  Hurrah! We are contractually tying ourselves together as a public display of our enduring affections!

No complaints about the presence of these statuses.  Number one blows my mind because it  amazes me that people can make people out of themselves and number two is always good news because parties!  Big, glamorous parties with dancing and friends!

It just weirds me out that my friends and I are at the age where spawning and conjoining are normal things that happen now.  I am still a teenager in my mind, and have no bigger responsibility than keeping myself alive - a task monumental enough on its own.  I'm hard work!

So, I've been thinking (oh dear).  There are many, many more than two ways to feel like a grown-up. Despite my enduring love for sweets and near total lack of attention span 

Hey, look, there's a dog outside!  Hahaha, stupid dog...

...I can't avoid that I am getting older.  I may not have a human in my pipe works, or a contractual agreement to like somebod indefinitely, but I am terrifyingly, undeniably climbing the ladder to adulthood. Evidence:

  
1.  I have a pension!  I have no idea how much I put into it each month or how it works.  I could have signed up for the big boss to feed rolled up wads of my cash to their chihuahua once a month for all I know, but it makes me feel like a functioning adult to say I have one. 

2.  I am ridiculously hypersensitive about how everything I do/think/eat affects my health.  This doesn't necessarily lead to better decisions, but at least I'm aware of how much visceral fat I'm clogging myself with whenever I have an ill advised Maoam/cheese/Pringles feast just because I can't think of anything better to do at the time. 

3.  I think about buying a house.  A lot.  So far, A and I have saved up enough to purchase maybe a toilet and a "Welcome" mat, but, hey, everyone needs a toilet. 

4.  Night times - especially week nights - are for waiting until bedtime.  I LOVE bedtime!  After the day's final bout of eating and sitting down is done, all I can think about is how much longer I have to wait before crawling under the squashy duvet and waiting for sweet, sweet unconsciousness.  Even if "sweet unconsciousness" can sometimes mean the cat swatting my face to be let out, A snoring and me having the kinds of dreams that would terrify the most experienced of shrinks. 

5.  I have managed to live happily in the same rented accommodation for over three years now with not even a twinge of an urge to decorate it.  It is a student-esque cesspit of dishes and floor-drobes (posh for "piles of clothes eveywhere but the actual wardrobe").  I have recently been experiencing a scarily strong compulsion to go out and buy curtains.  Curtains!  

6.  I watch Homes Under The Hammer out of choice.  I got out of bed specifically to watch it this morning.  When did that start happening?! 

7.  I am three years off the big three-oh, but in order to soften the blow of the inevitability of not being in my twenties anymore, I have begun to prematurely identify as a thirty year old.  Self defense mechanism, I think. 

8.   A trip to Starbucks and a walk "somewhere outdoorsy" is now an idea of a nice day out for me. 

9.  I use the term "nice day out." 
 

 I trust you're all having a lovely weekend, packed with "nice days out" and either binge drinking or going to places that your kids give you access to that would otherwise make you look like a creepy weirdo (petting zoo, anyone?).  Now.  Who's ready to go back to work?  Walter? 

 

"NOOOOOOOO!! You can't make me!!"

Happy Easter! xx