I'm going insane. A few weeks ago, I went out on a 12 mile run. All good bar a slightly achy lower calf, but I persevered. The longer the distances I cover, the more soreness I experience, and it comes and goes as I plod along. Sometimes I find it entertaining to guess where the ache is going to move next as I'm running. I assume it's my body's way of keeping me amused. All part and parcel of the experience. Trouble is, my slightly achy calf never went away and subsequently spread to my ankle and under my heel, and the soreness has been plaguing me ever since.
What's driving me nuts is the fact that it's screwing with my head by playing hide and seek with me. No soreness at all as I go about my business. Didn't even hurt when the nice physio lady stuck her knuckles into my leg and gross bare feet to see where the pain was coming from. Whatever Ouch Demon is inhabiting my right leg only comes out if I run or walk for longer than half an hour or so. Then it has me limping until I watch at least three episodes of Parks and Recreation on Netflix. Yes, it is very important to the Ouch Demon that I appease it with Netflix. Only Netflix will do.
I'm now about a week and a bit into the Physio-Lady-prescribed fortnight of inactivity, and I am a few head spins short of going full Exorcist on my own ass. I didn't realise how much I've come to rely on running since I took up the activity just under two years ago. Without exercise, the term "emotionally unstable" doesn't quite cut it. Think Batman's Joker, but with PMS and an insatiable sweet tooth.
The silver lining of being able to do sod all for two weeks is that I've developed a deeper appreciation for physical activity, regardless of my lack of speed and natural prowess. And I've had PLENTY of time to think about it (translate: "wallow in self pity over fried food"). Here is a short, non extensive summary of why I need running in my life. I don't know how helpful it is to anyone reading this, but I intend to refer back to it whenever I'm umming and ahhing over leaving the house just because it's "yucky" out. Here goes:
1. It's a reset button for the days where I wake up in dustbin mode and am not satisfied until I've eaten every processed, plasticky, cavity-inducing bits of "food" I can get my mitts on.
2. It makes me a nicer person to be around. Without running, I have too little patience to deal with my own shit, let alone other peoples'.
3. Instead of gaining an hour or two a day during which I'd normally be plonking one foot in front of the other, I've been losing time by regularly falling into tiny comas called "naps". I've always been a sporadic napper, but this week is just getting ridiculous. All I have to be is "not stood up" to fall into a deep trance. The less I move, the more tired I feel. The fuck, body?!
4. Emotionally and logically, without the opportunity to sweat out my stress, I am like a volcano that only needs a feather to land on it for it to erupt. I am far more likely this week to weep openly at a discarded sock on the floor, where normally, I'd be happily burrowed away under a pile of un-ironed laundry, documenting my miles on my Garmin instead.
5. Sitting down for too long at a time makes my butt hurt.
Bottom line is, at rest, I am a crazy person. Running is the only way to burn off the excess. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go shave my eyebrows off and draw on the walls in crayon until I'm allowed to wear my trainers and feel human again.
Do an extra mile for me, friends! Sniffle.
Sunday, 8 February 2015
Wednesday, 28 January 2015
26 Wise, Wise Wisoms
Well, hello! I did one of these posts around this time last year, where I gathered all the super-useful knowledge I'd gleaned from the 25 years on this planet and shared them with the whole world (or whatever corner of the internet this blog lives in). I've just this week completed my 26th year on this planet, bringing me ever close to the big 3-0 (I'm not ready to be a grown-up!! Send help!), and it's time for me to take stock of the information I've hoarded and/or consolidated over the last 12 months. I'm sure you will find this a very serious and scholarly list, reflecting my advancing years and wisdom.
Or I'll just blurt out whatever comes to mind. Whatever. Happy learning!
1. It is impossible to trick your metabolism. After multiple attempts to fool my body into thinking cake = health giving treat, I can finally conclude that exercise and food that doesn't have cartoon characters on the packaging (I'm looking at you, Haribo bear, you adorable bastard) is the only way forward. This upsets me, but it is unfortunately true. It also makes me want cake.
2. Lifting heavy shit is great fun and makes you feel like you have super powers. Until the muscle soreness kicks in and the only thing you're able to reach in the shower is your chin.
3. Even moderate drinking has to be paid for in spades. Hurty, sleepy, binge eat-y spades.
4. Of all the songs in the top 100 chart at any given time, I am familiar with approx 7, and actually enjoy about 3 of them. I am no longer home with the downies.
5. Inappropriate games, like the brilliant Cards Against Humanity are much more fun when played with grandparents. They are filth in its purest form. Nothing is funnier that hearing your Nana announce to the room that she is a "motherfucking sorcerer." Nothing.
6. I'm actually capable of relaxing if the weather is hot enough, and if I'm within 50 feet of a bar.
7. A house isn't a home without a feline overlord. Err, I mean pet. Why did I say that?
8. In order to live, I require food, water, physical activity...and Netflix.
9. I still don't like football, and have this year saved copious amounts of time and energy by not trying to.
10. Comics can be surprisingly educational and piss-takingly funny. See: The Oatmeal.
11. The grass is always greener on the other side. Cliche, but I often need to remind myself how good I've got things. Particularly when I get itchy feet at work.
12. Socks don't have to match, as long as they are vaguely the same length.
13. Dominos Pizza makes my stomach revolt for days, but the call of the dough is too strong to resist.
14. Eggs are fucking awesome! I have recently developed very strong feelings towards them. They are delicious nutrient filled apples from the butts of chickens. Chicken butts of the world, I thank you!
15. Mentally, I may well always be 15. This is okay.
16. It's surprisingly easy to put yourself in someone else's shoes with enough practice. Particularly if they are a clown.
17. Life before American Horror Story was not life at all.
18. I really, REALLY want to run a marathon.
19. Sometimes, when you really, really want to run a marathon, you end up doing too much to soon, resulting in you hurting yourself and having to avoid activity altogether for a fortnight because of your stupidity. Lesson learned at the physio clinic just this morning. Am going to go insane, and have no one to blame but myself. Stupid self.
20. The desire for cute, fluffy pets only intensifies with age. God, I wish I was allowed a puppy!! It doesn't even have to be a big one!
21. Reading and running are the best forms of escapism by far. But not at the same time, because manholes.
22. The cliche about how you give fewer fucks about how you're perceived as you get older? True! I cannot wait til all of my fucks have expired, and I'm a bad ass granny day drinking and cruising in my pimped out mobility scooter, calling out the "yoot" of the day for their follies.
23. Intensity isn't always a good thing.
24. Sisters are friends who are stuck with you for life. They must be mined for entertainment at all times.
25. I WILL be a zombie extra in a movie one day. Even if it kills me. Haw haw. See what I did there?
26. I am still not Beyonce.
Or I'll just blurt out whatever comes to mind. Whatever. Happy learning!
1. It is impossible to trick your metabolism. After multiple attempts to fool my body into thinking cake = health giving treat, I can finally conclude that exercise and food that doesn't have cartoon characters on the packaging (I'm looking at you, Haribo bear, you adorable bastard) is the only way forward. This upsets me, but it is unfortunately true. It also makes me want cake.
2. Lifting heavy shit is great fun and makes you feel like you have super powers. Until the muscle soreness kicks in and the only thing you're able to reach in the shower is your chin.
3. Even moderate drinking has to be paid for in spades. Hurty, sleepy, binge eat-y spades.
4. Of all the songs in the top 100 chart at any given time, I am familiar with approx 7, and actually enjoy about 3 of them. I am no longer home with the downies.
5. Inappropriate games, like the brilliant Cards Against Humanity are much more fun when played with grandparents. They are filth in its purest form. Nothing is funnier that hearing your Nana announce to the room that she is a "motherfucking sorcerer." Nothing.
Cards Against Humanity. Cards read "What do old people smell like?" & "My vagina"
See? A game suitable for all ages!
6. I'm actually capable of relaxing if the weather is hot enough, and if I'm within 50 feet of a bar.
7. A house isn't a home without a feline overlord. Err, I mean pet. Why did I say that?
8. In order to live, I require food, water, physical activity...and Netflix.
9. I still don't like football, and have this year saved copious amounts of time and energy by not trying to.
10. Comics can be surprisingly educational and piss-takingly funny. See: The Oatmeal.
11. The grass is always greener on the other side. Cliche, but I often need to remind myself how good I've got things. Particularly when I get itchy feet at work.
12. Socks don't have to match, as long as they are vaguely the same length.
13. Dominos Pizza makes my stomach revolt for days, but the call of the dough is too strong to resist.
14. Eggs are fucking awesome! I have recently developed very strong feelings towards them. They are delicious nutrient filled apples from the butts of chickens. Chicken butts of the world, I thank you!
15. Mentally, I may well always be 15. This is okay.
16. It's surprisingly easy to put yourself in someone else's shoes with enough practice. Particularly if they are a clown.
17. Life before American Horror Story was not life at all.
18. I really, REALLY want to run a marathon.
19. Sometimes, when you really, really want to run a marathon, you end up doing too much to soon, resulting in you hurting yourself and having to avoid activity altogether for a fortnight because of your stupidity. Lesson learned at the physio clinic just this morning. Am going to go insane, and have no one to blame but myself. Stupid self.
20. The desire for cute, fluffy pets only intensifies with age. God, I wish I was allowed a puppy!! It doesn't even have to be a big one!
21. Reading and running are the best forms of escapism by far. But not at the same time, because manholes.
22. The cliche about how you give fewer fucks about how you're perceived as you get older? True! I cannot wait til all of my fucks have expired, and I'm a bad ass granny day drinking and cruising in my pimped out mobility scooter, calling out the "yoot" of the day for their follies.
23. Intensity isn't always a good thing.
24. Sisters are friends who are stuck with you for life. They must be mined for entertainment at all times.
25. I WILL be a zombie extra in a movie one day. Even if it kills me. Haw haw. See what I did there?
26. I am still not Beyonce.
Wednesday, 7 January 2015
Cats vs Humans
Ow, I hurt my... me! Had my second ever experience with atlas stones last night, and as a result, am now feeling like I was at the losing end of a bar fight with Mr T. Woke up to what I briefly thought was a heart attack this morning, to find it was only the snazzy bruise on my chest complaining as I tried and failed to flip myself over. Never thought I'd be part of an organisation that sees chucking concrete (concrete!! That stuff that pavements and breeze blocks are made of. WT-actual-Eff?!) balls around as an excellent, healthy activity.
Moaning aside, I'm chuffed I went to that particular session. I always find that the classes that make me want to cry the most at the start also tend to end with me feeling like She-Hulk, but with pastier skin. Raaah! The fact that I found it so challenging can mean only one thing - That as soon as I get the knack, I will LOVE it. Logic for you.
Also, the bruises look pretty bad ass.
I kid. I don't have guns. Weapons or physical.
You find me at the second of two days off I've magically managed to get off work at the last minute this week. My manager is a saint who knows that the best way to get me to do my job well is to secure me as many days off doing actual work as possible. Glad we see eye to eye. I am sat at my PC with a snoring lump of fluff in my lap that I've spent a lot of time hanging out with over the festive period.
No, I haven't let my personal grooming get out of hand. I am fully clothed, and Walter the cat has chosen to sleep in the most inconvenient spot he can find. As per. After glaring at me like this...
Moaning aside, I'm chuffed I went to that particular session. I always find that the classes that make me want to cry the most at the start also tend to end with me feeling like She-Hulk, but with pastier skin. Raaah! The fact that I found it so challenging can mean only one thing - That as soon as I get the knack, I will LOVE it. Logic for you.
Also, the bruises look pretty bad ass.
"Oh, this little thing? I got it from THROWING A BIG ASS BALL OF CONCRETE AROUND!! You need me to open that jar of pickles for you? Perhaps direct you to the beach whilst tactically but discretely showing off my guns?"
I kid. I don't have guns. Weapons or physical.
You find me at the second of two days off I've magically managed to get off work at the last minute this week. My manager is a saint who knows that the best way to get me to do my job well is to secure me as many days off doing actual work as possible. Glad we see eye to eye. I am sat at my PC with a snoring lump of fluff in my lap that I've spent a lot of time hanging out with over the festive period.
No, I haven't let my personal grooming get out of hand. I am fully clothed, and Walter the cat has chosen to sleep in the most inconvenient spot he can find. As per. After glaring at me like this...
If looks could kill.
...from the printer for a while, he has now forgiven me for whatever crimes he is silently accusing me of in the above image, and has now settled in my lap/on the arm I need for the mouse. The more time I spend with Walter, the clearer it becomes to me how differently these fluffy, conniving bundles of manipulation see the world to humans. I have come prepared with some examples. I shall roll up my sleeves and begin:
The Human Nose
Human - Facial feature for sniffing out food (and probably other things too. But mostly food).
Cat - Human "on" button. Sticks out from duvet while humans sleep, handily reachable from bedside table for when I need to be let out to pee at 4am. Or just for shits and giggles because humans hate being woken up. More effective/amusing if you implement claws.
Laundry Pile
Human - Clothing that needs to be washed.
Cat - Bed.
Radiator
Human - Handy addition to the home for heating the immediate environment.
Cat - Bed. Even though am obviously uncomfortable as it feels like butt and paws are in direct contact with the fiery pits of Hell. Glare at humans for making it so hot but stay put anyway.
Kitchen
Human - Food preparation area. More sanitary if cat keeps paws off worktops.
Cat - Hey, what you doing? Why'd you put me on the floor? Is that food? Why'd you put me on the floor? Can I have a hug? Why'd you put me on the floor? etc etc.
Cat - Hey, what you doing? Why'd you put me on the floor? Is that food? Why'd you put me on the floor? Can I have a hug? Why'd you put me on the floor? etc etc.
PC/Phone/Tablet/TV
Human - Electronic entertainment to stave off thoughts of mortality/stuff that I'm actually meant to be getting done.
Cat - Portals into another dimension. Must sit directly on/in front of device in order to stop humans being sucked in. God forbid I actually have to hunt for my food like some sort of wild animal.
Clothing
Human - Items worn outside of the body for warmth/ to make self look hip and trendy. So hip and trendy.
Cat - Needs more fur. I will lie on it.
Cat Toys
Human - Look how nice I am, giving cat something fun to play with. Look, cat! Look how fun this is!
Cat - Human playthings. Humans are an easily amused species. Morons.
Cardboard Box
Human - Disposable container.
Cat - Holy fuck, this is awesome! I am an astronaut! A pirate! Now I'm a ninja! No one can see me now mwahahaha!!
"Tee hee. I am so invisible right now."
Human
Human - Complex, autonomous being with own free will trying to figure own own purpose in life.
Cat - Food/attention bringing slave. Also bed.
Sigh... I need to get out more.
Sunday, 28 December 2014
New Year, New You? Nah!
I can't believe Christmas is over for another year already! Just as I was getting settled into sweets and cheese for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and long hours in front of the telly, it's been cruelly snatched from my grasp. That, and I'm running out of Haribo. I've enjoyed properly (and by "properly", I mean "drunkenly") catching up with my family, and with friends that I only tend to see once or twice a year because everyone's off on their own adventures in pastures new(er than where we went to school). Also, in my excitement, I've been trying to make use of every single thing I obtained in my Christmas loot from Santa. Example:
We start on the assumption that we're not enough to begin with, which the logical bit of the brain (the one behind the bit that likes watching Netflix for eight hours straight and believes that after 3 pints, money isn't real) knows is... well, just bollocks, really. Everything you achieve throughout the year is achieved by the person you already are, in the body you already have. Here's some stuff that I'm proud of having done this year:
Point is, there's nothing wrong with taking stock of what you have and creating a plan to push for more things that will serve to add to your life experience. Just don't forget that it's only you who can get you all that stuff - You, exactly as you are right now!
Me, looking like a potato in a tea cosy and slippers after taking my beautiful, new, pink Asics and 1000-mile socks for their maiden jog... and then managing to lock myself out of the house in the freezing cold until A came to my rescue and made me coffee. Not sure why am making that face. Can only assume is frozen in place.
So, now that Crimbo-time is pretty much over, I'm seeing the gradual drip-drip of New Year status updates filtering through my Facebook feed. So far, they seem to fall into two opposing camps:
Camp 1 - "As soon as the new year hits, I'm going to be a new person! All skinny and living in the gym. Also, I will learn French and how to change colour like a chameleon. I will be UNRECOGNISABLE!! I shall be skinny, French and occasionally purple!"
Camp 2 - "Ugh, here come the New Year, New Me. Statuses! They're never going to change, and I won't be able to park at the gym, because I am the boss of the Healthy Lifestyle Club, and there's no room for anyone else!"
I might be exaggerating a leedle bit, but that's the gist of what I've been reading. Some people want to change everything about themselves, whilst others who have admirably managed to create a regime they are content with scoff at those who want to follow in their footsteps and do the same.
Whilst I agree with Camp 2 that improvements to your way of life won't necessarily magically stick just because it's January, I don't see any harm in resolutions. As long as you are prepared to be flexible with them, and don't admonish yourself and throw in the towel the second you inevitably stumble back into old habits. Everyone does it. Habits become habits because you repeat a behaviour until it becomes something you do more consistently than whatever you were doing before.
I believe that the end of the year is a great time to take stock of what you've achieved, and what you want to get out of the next 12 months. I probably think this because I'm one of those cool kids who has kept a diary since I my early teens, which means I have an overwhelming compulsion to document every single thing I do. It makes for terribly exciting reading.
It also means that I can look at old resolutions I've made myself over the years. Let's see if we can spot a pattern! I would offer you a prize for finding it, but I've eaten everything in my house that's not nailed down. In no particular order:
- Lose weight
- Bite nails less
- Be less shy/incompetent around other people
- Spend less time sitting around
- Watch less TV
- Be more selfless
We start on the assumption that we're not enough to begin with, which the logical bit of the brain (the one behind the bit that likes watching Netflix for eight hours straight and believes that after 3 pints, money isn't real) knows is... well, just bollocks, really. Everything you achieve throughout the year is achieved by the person you already are, in the body you already have. Here's some stuff that I'm proud of having done this year:
- Ran 3 half marathons.
- Got into a decent routine with the superhero runners at Run4All.
- Maintained a blog, which I enjoy doing and am proud of.
- Got a secure, not-too-shabby job that I'm comfortable in.
- Tried out and loved Outcast CrossFit, and made more friends in the process. Impressively strong and speedy friends!
Point is, there's nothing wrong with taking stock of what you have and creating a plan to push for more things that will serve to add to your life experience. Just don't forget that it's only you who can get you all that stuff - You, exactly as you are right now!
Hmm. I didn't originally intend for this post to be all motivational-y. Here's my favourite terrible joke to distract you from the sentimentality of it all:
Man goes into a farrier's.
Man: Hello, do you have any jobs going?
Farrier: Depends. Have you ever shoed a horse?
Man: No, but I said "fuck off" to a donkey once.
Haw haw.
Sunday, 21 December 2014
Holidays Are Coming, Holidays Are Coming!
Only a few sleeps til the fat man in red creeps into our homes while we're unconscious (no wonder my sister was scared of Santa as a kid. Seems only logical if you think about it)! I'm just crawling out of the coughy, sneezy tar pit that was my annual winter cold/flu thing. All limbs intact, but seem to have gained a cold sore the size of France. I'm no festive fitty, but at least I got my manflu out of the way before Christmas, as opposed to smack bang in the middle of the holiday like last year. Silver linings and all that.
Coming down with an almighty case of the "eew, get away from me!!"s is all par for the course during the countdown to Crimbo, among multiple other things that it just wouldn't be Christmas time without. Some people don't feel like it's Jesus-Is-Here-Oh-Look-Presents time until they've seen that Coca Cola ad with the truck in it. Others don't feel right until they've erected their tree.
Heehee. Erected.
I've taken time out of my super busy schedule of emptying the fridge I just refilled and avoiding football noises from the TV to create my own personal list of stuff that has to happen in the lead-up to Wear-Something-Stretchy-Lest-You-Burst Day for it to officially be Christmas time. Hope you enjoy!
1. Compulsory viewing of Nightmare Before Christmas/Muppets Christmas Carol/Elf/Edward Scissorhands. List gets longer every year.
2. Abandon all intention of eating like a regular human up until the big day. Instead opt to "sample" all available snacky items/gifts to ensure they are fit for consumption by the people you will be sharing them with come Christmas. It's the polite thing to do! No one likes a disappointing snack.
3. Buy all of the standup comedy DVDs for self before even considering what to buy for relatives. So far I've watched Lee Evans (meh. Not as good as his older stuff) and Jon Richardsons' (woo! OCD and neuroses! My kind of comedy) new ones. Sarah Millican, I'm coming to get you next!
4. Get even a minor case of the sniffles and hold off any and all forms of exercise for at least a week, telling yourself that it is for your own good.
5. Find self at end of said week sadly looking out the window, shoveling Nik Naks into face and wondering how you ever managed to put your trainers and go outside in that before.
6. Go shopping for presents in real world, because it's much more festive than using the boring old internet. All the smells and the lights and the trumpetty music and miserable faces, and stranger body parts digging into your body parts (not like that!), and the cold, and, and ... Abandon ship and order everything you need off Amazon from safety of car instead. It's a bloodbath out there.
7. Oh my God! No hang over. It's a Christmas miracle! This is AMAZING!! I have to get up and dance for jo- Oh, right. Still drunk. Back to bed to wait for the pain to come. Sigh.
8. Convince self that not eating advent calendar chocolate for a few days and then cramming all of said days' worth into gob when feeling a bit munchy down the line is much healthier option. Am saint.
9. Experience full-body rage twitches when the Christmas cards have fallen off the window sill for the billionth time because you dared to walk near them. How fast do I walk?!
10. Trawl Youtube for covers of classic Christmas songs =). Here's my favourite. Walk Off The Earth (they did that cover of Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know where they all shared one guitar)'s cover of Fairytale of New York. May it give you the warm tinglies too!
Coming down with an almighty case of the "eew, get away from me!!"s is all par for the course during the countdown to Crimbo, among multiple other things that it just wouldn't be Christmas time without. Some people don't feel like it's Jesus-Is-Here-Oh-Look-Presents time until they've seen that Coca Cola ad with the truck in it. Others don't feel right until they've erected their tree.
Heehee. Erected.
I've taken time out of my super busy schedule of emptying the fridge I just refilled and avoiding football noises from the TV to create my own personal list of stuff that has to happen in the lead-up to Wear-Something-Stretchy-Lest-You-Burst Day for it to officially be Christmas time. Hope you enjoy!
1. Compulsory viewing of Nightmare Before Christmas/Muppets Christmas Carol/Elf/Edward Scissorhands. List gets longer every year.
2. Abandon all intention of eating like a regular human up until the big day. Instead opt to "sample" all available snacky items/gifts to ensure they are fit for consumption by the people you will be sharing them with come Christmas. It's the polite thing to do! No one likes a disappointing snack.
3. Buy all of the standup comedy DVDs for self before even considering what to buy for relatives. So far I've watched Lee Evans (meh. Not as good as his older stuff) and Jon Richardsons' (woo! OCD and neuroses! My kind of comedy) new ones. Sarah Millican, I'm coming to get you next!
4. Get even a minor case of the sniffles and hold off any and all forms of exercise for at least a week, telling yourself that it is for your own good.
5. Find self at end of said week sadly looking out the window, shoveling Nik Naks into face and wondering how you ever managed to put your trainers and go outside in that before.
6. Go shopping for presents in real world, because it's much more festive than using the boring old internet. All the smells and the lights and the trumpetty music and miserable faces, and stranger body parts digging into your body parts (not like that!), and the cold, and, and ... Abandon ship and order everything you need off Amazon from safety of car instead. It's a bloodbath out there.
7. Oh my God! No hang over. It's a Christmas miracle! This is AMAZING!! I have to get up and dance for jo- Oh, right. Still drunk. Back to bed to wait for the pain to come. Sigh.
8. Convince self that not eating advent calendar chocolate for a few days and then cramming all of said days' worth into gob when feeling a bit munchy down the line is much healthier option. Am saint.
9. Experience full-body rage twitches when the Christmas cards have fallen off the window sill for the billionth time because you dared to walk near them. How fast do I walk?!
10. Trawl Youtube for covers of classic Christmas songs =). Here's my favourite. Walk Off The Earth (they did that cover of Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know where they all shared one guitar)'s cover of Fairytale of New York. May it give you the warm tinglies too!
Merry Christmas, you scum bags, you maggots! Hope you have an amazing few days!
xxx
Saturday, 6 December 2014
I'll Be There For You (but not really)
The season of festivities is upon us. I know this because I've spent the whole day nursing a hurty head that keeps ninja jumping at me out of nowhere just when I think I've finally rid myself of the bugger. I've also spent more time horizontal than upright to allow ease of access for any cheeky naps looking to ravish me, despite the fact that I was tucked up in bed and snoring (probably. Drooling too, should imagine) by 11pm.
What? The party started at 3! Valiant effort, I reckon. I deserve a medal. Or at least a calming hug. I'm so very tired.
So today's been a bit of a non-day, punctuated only by naps and frequent feedings. I'm really craving a chicken kebab as we speak. One with peppers on it. And sweet onion sauce like the stuff they've got at Subway.
Oooh...Subway!
Anyway, TV got me through a tough time. I don't do it often, but I love the odd lazy day where I do sod all and let my eyes turn square. Today, I've watched Modern Family, American Horror Story and Friends. Comfort telly to go with my comfort food. Apart from American Horror Story. Didn't know until today that I'm actually a little bit scared of clowns. Especially murder-y ones with no bottom jaw. Who'd have known?
Friends, however, will always be my go-to binge watch in times of sloth. Even though everyone on the planet and their parrot knows the sitcom line by line (which is why they need to make that reunion movie, dammit!! Why haven't they done it yet?!), I still find it just as funny as the first twenty billion times I watched it. Like many people, I grew up watching the show, fully believing that Friends is what adult life would look like.
...Up until last week, when my sister and I were watching The One Where Rachel Turns 30, and sibling dearest pointed out
"Isn't it weird that when we used to watch this, we were teenagers, but now this is about people around your age?"
Naturally, I freaked the fuck out, because
1. Holy ballsack! For all intents and purposes, I am an adult. A grown-up. Yuck!!
2. I have been duped. My life is nothing like Ross, Monica et al's. What is this evil trickery?
I've since forgiven the Central Perk gang, though. They still make me happy, even though they are pedaling filthy lies. Here are just a few of the reasons why I believe that Friends is a touch unrealistic as a depiction of the lives of your "average" 20/30-something year old:
1. It crudely suggests that people can afford to visit coffee shops several times a day on the average salary. Why do you think Starbucks pictures are always being Instagrammed in real life? It's because that poor hipster had to sell their nan for a cup of delicious twitchies, and the least they could do to mark the occasion was document it.
2. In Friends, everyone is thin and beautiful, despite not having a spare second in between "working" and coffee drinking to have a workout regime (except for Phoebe, with her beautiful flail-run that I believe I successfully emulate).
3. Babies can apparently be had and then only feature in episodes where their presence is key to the story's plot. When not required, they can be turned off and stored away, much like a Furby. I'm looking at you, Rachel and Ross.
4. Spells of unemployment are experienced by (I think) all in the show, but lack of income doesn't appear to be much of an issue. They might be there for us when the rain starts to fall, but how long would they stick around if the bailiffs came a-knockin'? Hmm?
5. This one probably has more to do with me personally than the general public, but, much as I love my friends, if they were always in my house, eating my food and talking at me when all I want to do is have "shh, leave-me-alone" pyjama time, I would probably have violently turned on them and/or changed the locks. I cherish my privacy, and have discovered as I get older that I'm programmed only to socialise a predetermined amount of time before I have to run back home to my cave and recharge. I was on a busy, fun work's do last night, but I could probably cheerfully spend the next three days interacting with no one now that I've had my fill of merriment and talking and such. Not even with Wilson off of Castaway, charming as he is. It frightens me how easily I could become an actual hermit if society was a bit more accepting of it. Hell, click and collect food delivery and Amazon makes it so easy these days.
Sigh.
I love you, Amazon.
What was I talking about again?
What? The party started at 3! Valiant effort, I reckon. I deserve a medal. Or at least a calming hug. I'm so very tired.
So today's been a bit of a non-day, punctuated only by naps and frequent feedings. I'm really craving a chicken kebab as we speak. One with peppers on it. And sweet onion sauce like the stuff they've got at Subway.
Oooh...Subway!
Anyway, TV got me through a tough time. I don't do it often, but I love the odd lazy day where I do sod all and let my eyes turn square. Today, I've watched Modern Family, American Horror Story and Friends. Comfort telly to go with my comfort food. Apart from American Horror Story. Didn't know until today that I'm actually a little bit scared of clowns. Especially murder-y ones with no bottom jaw. Who'd have known?
Friends, however, will always be my go-to binge watch in times of sloth. Even though everyone on the planet and their parrot knows the sitcom line by line (which is why they need to make that reunion movie, dammit!! Why haven't they done it yet?!), I still find it just as funny as the first twenty billion times I watched it. Like many people, I grew up watching the show, fully believing that Friends is what adult life would look like.
...Up until last week, when my sister and I were watching The One Where Rachel Turns 30, and sibling dearest pointed out
"Isn't it weird that when we used to watch this, we were teenagers, but now this is about people around your age?"
Naturally, I freaked the fuck out, because
1. Holy ballsack! For all intents and purposes, I am an adult. A grown-up. Yuck!!
2. I have been duped. My life is nothing like Ross, Monica et al's. What is this evil trickery?
I've since forgiven the Central Perk gang, though. They still make me happy, even though they are pedaling filthy lies. Here are just a few of the reasons why I believe that Friends is a touch unrealistic as a depiction of the lives of your "average" 20/30-something year old:
1. It crudely suggests that people can afford to visit coffee shops several times a day on the average salary. Why do you think Starbucks pictures are always being Instagrammed in real life? It's because that poor hipster had to sell their nan for a cup of delicious twitchies, and the least they could do to mark the occasion was document it.
2. In Friends, everyone is thin and beautiful, despite not having a spare second in between "working" and coffee drinking to have a workout regime (except for Phoebe, with her beautiful flail-run that I believe I successfully emulate).
3. Babies can apparently be had and then only feature in episodes where their presence is key to the story's plot. When not required, they can be turned off and stored away, much like a Furby. I'm looking at you, Rachel and Ross.
4. Spells of unemployment are experienced by (I think) all in the show, but lack of income doesn't appear to be much of an issue. They might be there for us when the rain starts to fall, but how long would they stick around if the bailiffs came a-knockin'? Hmm?
5. This one probably has more to do with me personally than the general public, but, much as I love my friends, if they were always in my house, eating my food and talking at me when all I want to do is have "shh, leave-me-alone" pyjama time, I would probably have violently turned on them and/or changed the locks. I cherish my privacy, and have discovered as I get older that I'm programmed only to socialise a predetermined amount of time before I have to run back home to my cave and recharge. I was on a busy, fun work's do last night, but I could probably cheerfully spend the next three days interacting with no one now that I've had my fill of merriment and talking and such. Not even with Wilson off of Castaway, charming as he is. It frightens me how easily I could become an actual hermit if society was a bit more accepting of it. Hell, click and collect food delivery and Amazon makes it so easy these days.
Sigh.
I love you, Amazon.
What was I talking about again?
So no one told you life was gonna be this waaay-eee!
(clap clap clap clap!!)
Saturday, 29 November 2014
How To Make Running Suck
WEEKEND!!
I mean, hello! Hope you've found this Saturday as relaxing as I have. And by relaxing I mean:
- A morning spent at a women-only CrossFit session with Outcast Swansea. No smelly boys to slow us down! Except for the coach. Who wasn't smelly, and who refused to tolerate any slowing down. At all. And he tried to kill us with burpees. Like, kill us dead. It was touch and go for a moment there, as I wondered whether I'd ever get my breath back, but I loved it, and survived to tell the tale!
- An afternoon unwisely spent in town Christmas shopping, which is a fancy term for spending 45mins parking and 10mins dodging elbows in the shops, getting too stressed and shuffling back to the car with tail between legs and a single pair of jeans. Tis the season to be elbowed in the boobs by browsing strangers.
"Okay, time to get ou-AAAARGH IS THAT A HERNIA?!!"
Needless to say, I don't suffer DOMS (stands for "death of muscles. Shit.") graciously.
On Monday, I went for a short jog that turned into a magical, hilly 10 miler, because I'd discovered that we've got one of those electric signs that detects cars' speeds on a hill near our house, and I childishly wanted to try and beat my time. On one loop, 26mph flashed up, but it turned out that there was just a car behind me. Shame. Anyway, I figured out that if I run downhill with all my might and just a bit of arm flapping, I can reach a princely speed of... 7 miles per hour.
My cheetah-esque abilities aside, I really enjoyed that run. Distance in double digits (the name of my first album/book/autobiography...whichever comes first) is usually a daunting prospect for me. I've done it, but not all that many times, and I almost always have to grit my teeth through it, at the very least towards the end. There's something special about those runs, of any distance, that end up being much more enjoyable than you initially though it would be. The more often I do this putting one foot in front of the other thing, the more handy little tools and mental games I'm picking up to help me pass the time and to get more out of a run.
That being said, I have a WAY bigger list of things I've learned the hard way not to do when I'm out on my shuffles, so I'm going to dispense those findings to you instead. So, here is my list of the multiple ways you can make a regular run completely suck balls. Don't say I never give you anything.
1. Look at your watch/tracking doohicky regularly to see how far you've gone/how much time has passed. I guarantee it will be less than you wanted, and you will want to cry.
2. Expect the run to be easy, because you've been doing it lots now, and this is only going to be a slow one. I don't think I've ever found a run easy, or that I ever will. My opinion is that it never any less difficult (though there is a small chance I've just been doing it wrong the entire time...Let's not rule that one out). You just learn to embrace being challenged. Unless you're hungry, or it's windy out. Then it's totally okay to just sit in the house and eat chocolate spread on toast. Especially because you've just discovered that Maltesers does a crunchy spread now, called Teasers and it's the best thing in the effing WORLD! Beautiful, glorious, evil sugar-paste. Mmmmm.
3. Eat something heavy immediately before you head out the door. For energy and that. And by "that", I mean vomit.
4. Worry from start to finish about how slow you are and how that elderly gentleman that whizzed past you on his mobility scooter was definitely smirking at you like he was in a convertible sports car and you were in a Morris Minor. Whatever, guy. Morris Minors are cool.
5. Make sure you have enough noisy change and keys in your pockets in order to be driven slowly insane.
6. Forget to take music with you.
7. Try to distract yourself from the fact that you're running and that your legs/lungs/bum cheeks/entire body hurts. It won't make everything seem ten times worse, honest. Go ahead. Try so hard to "engross yourself in nature" that dog walkers wonder why you're so angry at their pets.
8. Make your strides unnaturally long so that it's all over with faster, or so short that you're emulating that classic, British "trotting across the car park" run that people do when they see cars coming but are too civilized to break into a full on jog.
9. Constantly calculate how much further it is you have to go. Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
...Are we there yet?
10. Pick a completely flat, out-and-back route with no decent views. That way, both your brain and body get a big, fat slice of boredom. Yippee, hooray!
And there we have it! Plenty more where that came from. I am most definitely shirking my calling as a personal trainer, aren't I? Such motivation. Much positive. Wow.
Happy running, peoples! =)
Saturday, 22 November 2014
It'll Be Alright On The Night(time run)
Firstly, I'd like to blame my absence entirely on Netflix. Thanks to American Horror Story, I am now completely desensitized to gore. I don't think I'd bat an eyelid if one of my limbs just decided to drop off and spurt blood all over the walls, Phoebe off of Friends stylee. Example:
Also, I have finally decided who I want to be when I grow up. Jessica Lange. I don't even care if her identity's already been taken - she is a bad ass.
While we're on the topic of bad-assery, this week, I joined a group of runners from my local running club in a nighttime run through some woods for the first time. Loved it! This bunch of speedsters regularly seek out hills on Wednesday nights by strapping on some flourescent gear and trekking up towards the mountains. Nutters.
On our run, I saw some cool, out-of -the-way houses and ruins, ran alongside what seemed to be Wales' loudest river, and chugged up some inclines like the stumpy-legged steam train that I secretly knew I was. Choo choo!
There was something really enjoyable about not being able to see much further than an arm's length in front of me. Usually, as I start to get tired, I can get in the habit of staring balefully the horizon and inwardly lamenting how far I have left to go. When you can see naff all ahead, this isn't an option. Not a bad thing! The time flew by.
If you get the opportunity to sling on your trainers and go on a nighttime adventure (with company! There's no fun in accidentally falling over if you don't have witnesses to laugh at/with you... and maybe help you up), then take it! It's an experience. Plus, you'll have an excuse to buy a head torch, which means you can Snapchat lots of pictures of your face lit up at weird angles to freak your sister out....
N'much more to report than that this week. It's hard to get much shit done when you're on a Netflix spiral. I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Later, gaters!
....Don't ever let me say that again.
Also, I have finally decided who I want to be when I grow up. Jessica Lange. I don't even care if her identity's already been taken - she is a bad ass.
While we're on the topic of bad-assery, this week, I joined a group of runners from my local running club in a nighttime run through some woods for the first time. Loved it! This bunch of speedsters regularly seek out hills on Wednesday nights by strapping on some flourescent gear and trekking up towards the mountains. Nutters.
On our run, I saw some cool, out-of -the-way houses and ruins, ran alongside what seemed to be Wales' loudest river, and chugged up some inclines like the stumpy-legged steam train that I secretly knew I was. Choo choo!
There was something really enjoyable about not being able to see much further than an arm's length in front of me. Usually, as I start to get tired, I can get in the habit of staring balefully the horizon and inwardly lamenting how far I have left to go. When you can see naff all ahead, this isn't an option. Not a bad thing! The time flew by.
If you get the opportunity to sling on your trainers and go on a nighttime adventure (with company! There's no fun in accidentally falling over if you don't have witnesses to laugh at/with you... and maybe help you up), then take it! It's an experience. Plus, you'll have an excuse to buy a head torch, which means you can Snapchat lots of pictures of your face lit up at weird angles to freak your sister out....
N'much more to report than that this week. It's hard to get much shit done when you're on a Netflix spiral. I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Later, gaters!
....Don't ever let me say that again.
Monday, 3 November 2014
Marathon Running For Mortals
As with anything I have the remotest interest in, as soon as I decided to sign up for a marathon, I've immediately started to ingest any and all information I can find on it like something hungry... that eats books. Something more original sounding than "bookworm"... Knowledge Beaver? I don't know. It's nearly my bedtime, leave me alone.
Point is, for me, it's not a hobby if I haven't completely nerded out on it first.
First book I've got my greedy mitts on on the subject is John "the penguin" Bingham (if you're a slower runner like me, look him up. Guy's an inspiration!) and coach Jenny Hadfield's Marathon Running For Mortals. I've already read Bingham's No Need For Speed and enjoyed that, so made sense to seek out his waddly wisdoms first.
Devoured the thing in a couple of days. It's rather good! Full of memorable quotes and tips to do squiggly lines under in biro (not pencil. Biro makes them super important). Here are a couple of quotes that got the squiggle treatment from me:
"If you climb too slowly, you find yourself getting bored with the pace and the activity. If you climb too quickly, you find yourself so winded that you can't enjoy the beauty of the experience... You should find the place between boredom and exhaustion."
"Long distance success is more about tenacity than talent."
"You may not be in the top tier of that race, but as a long-distance athlete, you are fitter,better trained and more disciplined than 99 per cent of the population who have ever lived. Remind yourself of that when you start to obsess about your pace or finish time."
And most importantly
"It's all about the medal."
Too right, Mr Bingham. Too right!
Sunday, 2 November 2014
It Aint So Bad...
Happy day-after-Halloween! I hope you're also suffering a food hangover from the excess Haribo you bought for the Trick-or-Treaters that never came. I think 80 mini bags might have been a smidge ambitious. Oh, well.
I read a bloody good book last week. I'm partial to autobiographical essay books (Lena Dunham's Not That Kind of Girl, Tina Fey's Bossypants, anything by Augusten Burroughs and so on and on and on...), and while I was scanning my bookshelf for something to re-read until payday came around and I could buy something new/re-enter into society, I found that we've had one that I'd not read, sitting there for nearly three years screaming:
...Or probably something a bit less crass, because it was by Derren Brown. Confessions of a Conjuror is brilliant. It's just one great, big, weird train-of-thought narrative where he meanders from card tricks, to odd habits and even at one point to instructions on how to poach an egg.
My favourite bits were lists he'd made of his odd compulsions, many of which I found I have in common e.g When driving, he has an urge to just close his eyes and see what happens. I've never acted it out, but on several occasions, I've thought;
"If I just locked the steering wheel right now, would I survive the crash?" Not even in a morbid way, just a kind of mild curiosity, knowing I'd never really act on the impulse.* All the way through the book, I wanted to create some similar lists of my own, and I've settled on "borrowing" his idea of listing the things we find oddly pleasurable despite always avoiding doing them until the last minute (like cleaning the house and coming over all calm because the chaos around you is dormant at last). Mostly because I felt more people are prone to procrastination over mildly pondering their own demise on a quick jaunt to Tesco. Here goes:
Doing the Dishes
Just being in the house with more unwashed dishes than is necessary makes me edgy, but instead of just buggering on and doing them, I will huff and glare at the house's other occupants (cat included) and bore holes in their skulls with my eyes for not reading my mind and doing them for me. The second I pick up a sponge, I relax. Something lovely about having my hands all warm and knowing I'm actually getting shit done when I eventually get around to it. Household chores are rarely as bad as I imagine they'll be. Helps that I distract myself with Netflix on the iPad while I'm doing it. I have to trick myself into chores. Same goes for cleaning the house. Anything's possible when Spotify's blaring and you're dancing around the house in your pants.
Running
As is the case with anyone that claims running as a hobby, it's hard to love it all the time. Despite what those smiley ladies on the cover of Runners World imply. Sometimes it sucks balls and makes you feel like you're going to poop out your lungs. These pant soiling runs are fewer and further between than the good, average and elated ones, but like a negative comment in a sea of compliments, it's always the negative memories that rise to the top - especially when you're tired from work and it looks a bit icky outside. It's easy to forget that the hardest bit is getting yourself in your stretchy things and out the door. Again, the reality is nearly always better than the expectation. That horrid drizzle turns into skin cooling "ahhhh"-ness (another scientific term, I swear), and your fatigue buggers off because you're body's way too busy trying not to fall over itself to remember how tired it is. Before long, you're bouncing back in the door and chewing everyone's ear off about how great running is, having completely forgotten that just an hour ago you were hunched in the doorway with one trainer on, crying a bit about having to go out in the cold.
Remembering to Eat Like a Human
...as opposed to a being that runs solely on Maoams and trifle. Sweets, cakes and anything else promising me an immediate sugar fix make me feel like crap. If I'm not doing that thing where one leg bounces of its own accord in a bid to rid me of the excess energy I'm consuming faster than I can use, I'm sitting bolt upright and asleep, head thrown back and drooling because I've fallen into a mini, snack induced coma. Brain knows that sweeties are the Devil incarnate and I can get naff all done on them, but it takes a long time for my body to catch on. It thinks it needs them. As soon as I chill out and start doing that moderation thing I hear so much about, I become able to stay awake for an entire day without unplanned naps, and people don't have to gauge whether I'm in my manically happy I'm-going-to-talk-so-fast-at-you-your-ears-will-bleed phase, or whether I'm going to start chewing on their fingers until they give me Haribo. Better for everyone when I'm sweetie-sober.
...And there we have it! Seriously, though. Read Confessions. It's much better!
Speaking of putting things off, I finally bit the bullet and signed up to my first full marathon. I chose the Liverpool Rock 'n' Roll marathon. Mostly because there's a band at every mile and I'll need as much distraction from the "what the fuck am I doing?!" thoughts I'm going to be having. I'm scared, confused about how I'm going to fit in CrossFit into a useable training plan that won't kill me, bewildered... but most of all, I'm excited! I cannot picture for the life of me how I'm going to manage to keep moving for upwards of five hours, but I'll certainly give it a good crack! No motion, no medal! I'll keep you updated as my training progresses. Wish me luck!
* That reminds me of another one my sister and I share. During conversations with people, we've both admitted to occasionally playing out completely inappropriate behaviour in our minds that we wouldn't dare do in reality. These mental excursions usually worsen if the conversation is a serious one. I find myself wondering things like
"If I just licked her on the nose and carried on as normal, would she react, or would she be too polite/freaked out to do anything?"
and
"What if I slapped him really hard for no reason? How angry would he be with me?"
These are conversations with anyone. People I love. People I barely know. I reckon (hope) most people have these funny little fantasies along the lines of what is the worst thing I could possibly do in this situation? If no, at least it seems to run in my family, so I'm not totally alone!
I read a bloody good book last week. I'm partial to autobiographical essay books (Lena Dunham's Not That Kind of Girl, Tina Fey's Bossypants, anything by Augusten Burroughs and so on and on and on...), and while I was scanning my bookshelf for something to re-read until payday came around and I could buy something new/re-enter into society, I found that we've had one that I'd not read, sitting there for nearly three years screaming:
OI, DIPSHIT!! You bought me because you knew I'd be good, so just bloody read me already!!
...Or probably something a bit less crass, because it was by Derren Brown. Confessions of a Conjuror is brilliant. It's just one great, big, weird train-of-thought narrative where he meanders from card tricks, to odd habits and even at one point to instructions on how to poach an egg.
My favourite bits were lists he'd made of his odd compulsions, many of which I found I have in common e.g When driving, he has an urge to just close his eyes and see what happens. I've never acted it out, but on several occasions, I've thought;
"If I just locked the steering wheel right now, would I survive the crash?" Not even in a morbid way, just a kind of mild curiosity, knowing I'd never really act on the impulse.* All the way through the book, I wanted to create some similar lists of my own, and I've settled on "borrowing" his idea of listing the things we find oddly pleasurable despite always avoiding doing them until the last minute (like cleaning the house and coming over all calm because the chaos around you is dormant at last). Mostly because I felt more people are prone to procrastination over mildly pondering their own demise on a quick jaunt to Tesco. Here goes:
Doing the Dishes
Just being in the house with more unwashed dishes than is necessary makes me edgy, but instead of just buggering on and doing them, I will huff and glare at the house's other occupants (cat included) and bore holes in their skulls with my eyes for not reading my mind and doing them for me. The second I pick up a sponge, I relax. Something lovely about having my hands all warm and knowing I'm actually getting shit done when I eventually get around to it. Household chores are rarely as bad as I imagine they'll be. Helps that I distract myself with Netflix on the iPad while I'm doing it. I have to trick myself into chores. Same goes for cleaning the house. Anything's possible when Spotify's blaring and you're dancing around the house in your pants.
Running
As is the case with anyone that claims running as a hobby, it's hard to love it all the time. Despite what those smiley ladies on the cover of Runners World imply. Sometimes it sucks balls and makes you feel like you're going to poop out your lungs. These pant soiling runs are fewer and further between than the good, average and elated ones, but like a negative comment in a sea of compliments, it's always the negative memories that rise to the top - especially when you're tired from work and it looks a bit icky outside. It's easy to forget that the hardest bit is getting yourself in your stretchy things and out the door. Again, the reality is nearly always better than the expectation. That horrid drizzle turns into skin cooling "ahhhh"-ness (another scientific term, I swear), and your fatigue buggers off because you're body's way too busy trying not to fall over itself to remember how tired it is. Before long, you're bouncing back in the door and chewing everyone's ear off about how great running is, having completely forgotten that just an hour ago you were hunched in the doorway with one trainer on, crying a bit about having to go out in the cold.
Remembering to Eat Like a Human
...as opposed to a being that runs solely on Maoams and trifle. Sweets, cakes and anything else promising me an immediate sugar fix make me feel like crap. If I'm not doing that thing where one leg bounces of its own accord in a bid to rid me of the excess energy I'm consuming faster than I can use, I'm sitting bolt upright and asleep, head thrown back and drooling because I've fallen into a mini, snack induced coma. Brain knows that sweeties are the Devil incarnate and I can get naff all done on them, but it takes a long time for my body to catch on. It thinks it needs them. As soon as I chill out and start doing that moderation thing I hear so much about, I become able to stay awake for an entire day without unplanned naps, and people don't have to gauge whether I'm in my manically happy I'm-going-to-talk-so-fast-at-you-your-ears-will-bleed phase, or whether I'm going to start chewing on their fingers until they give me Haribo. Better for everyone when I'm sweetie-sober.
...And there we have it! Seriously, though. Read Confessions. It's much better!
Speaking of putting things off, I finally bit the bullet and signed up to my first full marathon. I chose the Liverpool Rock 'n' Roll marathon. Mostly because there's a band at every mile and I'll need as much distraction from the "what the fuck am I doing?!" thoughts I'm going to be having. I'm scared, confused about how I'm going to fit in CrossFit into a useable training plan that won't kill me, bewildered... but most of all, I'm excited! I cannot picture for the life of me how I'm going to manage to keep moving for upwards of five hours, but I'll certainly give it a good crack! No motion, no medal! I'll keep you updated as my training progresses. Wish me luck!
Bwaaaah!! =oO
* That reminds me of another one my sister and I share. During conversations with people, we've both admitted to occasionally playing out completely inappropriate behaviour in our minds that we wouldn't dare do in reality. These mental excursions usually worsen if the conversation is a serious one. I find myself wondering things like
"If I just licked her on the nose and carried on as normal, would she react, or would she be too polite/freaked out to do anything?"
and
"What if I slapped him really hard for no reason? How angry would he be with me?"
These are conversations with anyone. People I love. People I barely know. I reckon (hope) most people have these funny little fantasies along the lines of what is the worst thing I could possibly do in this situation? If no, at least it seems to run in my family, so I'm not totally alone!
Saturday, 18 October 2014
Just For Fun
Hey hi hello!
Guess what? I done a real life article for a cool website I stumbled across last week. www.womenmakewaves.co.uk publishes snippets from women all over the interwebs on all kinds of topics. My article is about how, as adults, we often forget that we can do things for the hell of it. We don't have to be good at anything. Unless you're a brain surgeon or something. Some skill required there, I'd assume (hope). Anyway, if you want to read my article (hee, I have an article. Did I mention that?), have a quick click on the link at the bottom of this post. And when you're done, have a look at some of the other contributions on there. Some very clever, funny and creative women writing for that site. Chuffed I got to be one of their number this week!
Guess what? I done a real life article for a cool website I stumbled across last week. www.womenmakewaves.co.uk publishes snippets from women all over the interwebs on all kinds of topics. My article is about how, as adults, we often forget that we can do things for the hell of it. We don't have to be good at anything. Unless you're a brain surgeon or something. Some skill required there, I'd assume (hope). Anyway, if you want to read my article (hee, I have an article. Did I mention that?), have a quick click on the link at the bottom of this post. And when you're done, have a look at some of the other contributions on there. Some very clever, funny and creative women writing for that site. Chuffed I got to be one of their number this week!
Just For Fun - Rebecca Taunton
Ooh! Before I go, I want to give a shout out the the person that made my morning! On Blogger, you can check your stats and sometimes see what searches lead people to your little corner of the internet... Guy/girl who Googled "Who sniffs panties in Taunton?", I'm sorry if my blog disappointed you in any way, and I sincerely hope you find who you're looking for, you adorable little pervert!
Thursday, 9 October 2014
Winter Is Coming
Today, I have a day off work. I had a monster 10 hour sleep and have spent the day so far in a grumpy stupor, with the sense of purpose and I.Q of a single celled amoeba. Must nearly be winter.
The only thing that's made me laugh once today was remembering the dream I had last night where I found out that A likes to dress up as Mrs Doubtfire at fairgrounds so that no one discovers his severe addiction to claw machines and arcade games.
I was going to make this post about how much I hate the colder months. I have enough reasons to write a short, (and probably pretty boring) book. To name a but a few:
1. Winter makes me miss the glowy, comforting feeling of sunshine on my skin. Because I'm numb to all sensation under a billion layers of clothing.
2. Running when it's windy makes me feel all warm (translate: furious) and tingly (murderous and/or stabby) inside.
3. Lack of sunlight magically transforms me from a grinning, manic, outdoorsy type to a sniveling, manic hermit who hates everything and everyone. Taa-bloody-daa!
As you can see, this kind of list wasn't going to do anyone any favours (but who am I trying to help because I hate you all and why is my nose so bloody COLD?!), so I've decided to turn my idea on its arse and dredge up some reasons why winter is secretly awesomeness in (very convincing, mind) disguise. Plus, I've just eaten a pork panini, and I thought I'd ride the temporary food-high to positive-land like a meaty unicorn made of bread. So, here is why winter is [swallows. Hard] ... good:
1. Despite its numbing qualities, it's fun to deploy the coat with the big, furry hood and imagine you're an Eskimo bear on an adventure whenever you go outside. Grr!
2. When it's not windy, running in the cold beats running in the heat, hands down. You no longer feel like you are sweating from the eyeballs.
3. PUDDLES!! If you live in Wales, then this also applies to summer, but hey ho.
4. Aside from at Christmas time, cities become quieter havens where you and a select few of your fellow voluntary loner/would-totally-be-a-hermit-if-society-didn't-frown-upon-it types can enjoy magazines and blogging on the sly in coffee shops (Hello from Waterstones! I'm going to buy some crisps now).
5. Christmas is awesome, despite what the Scrooge-y types say. How can you hate a season that permits the display of excessive fairy lights and mismatched tat? Tis the season to be gleefully naff.
6. Onesies. I just bought my first of the season. It's a men's dinosaur one, complete with dinosaur head hood. I win at life.
Look how ferocious I am.
7. You can justify your out of control caffeine addiction as comforting beverage consumption that you need to keep you warm. Because it's hard to stay cold when you've got the involuntary shakes.
8. Laziness is encouraged. How can you be expected to go out in that?!
9. The chaos Britain descends into when a solitary snowflake drifts to the ground. Don't moan about how rubbish we are in adverse weather on Facebook. Embrace it! Wear your emergency snow helmet (the one with the viking horns and tinsel on it) and knee pads to work and pray with all your might that today is the day you get to go home to your pyjamas and the cat at 1pm on a Tuesday.
10. Slippers. It's hard to stay angry when your feet are covered in a toasty layer of fluff.
So, there we are. Winter's not so bad! And if my list has failed to cheer you fellow winter grouches, I assure you that eating lots of food will spike your mood for at least thirty glorious minutes - enough time to quickly bash out a blog post before you crash face first into your tea, weeping because you don't live in Australia, where it's always hot and there are koalas and other things that are infinitely cooler than what we've got in stupid, cold Britain.
Stupid winter.
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