» Cringe!

Ummm....
I regularly (every minute practically) burp and fart in the company of my family, friends and workmates. I tell said people when Im off to have a dump. I pick my nose. I pick my belly button, and smell it. I pick my spots. I pick Purplegods spots. I drop food on the floor and pick it up and put it back on the plate (mine or other peoples, I'm not fussy, what they dont know wont kill them). I like Rick Astley and New kids on the block. I luuuurrrrvvve Will Young. I like Xfactor and I'm a celebrity. I ask Purplegod to hold my hand while I'm pooing. I heard Purplegod's posh Mom do a mahoosive pant splitting fart the second time I met her. I'm a hairdresser. I married a geek (who looks just like Jon Tickle- he of big brother). I am rather fat.
Apparently all of the above things should by rights make me want to crawl up my own arsehole and hide there for many years. But do you know what? They don't. The truly embarrassing thing is I don't give a flying fuck and Purplegod still loves me!
(Thu 27th Nov 2008, 23:05, More)

» Why I was late

As mentioned before, I hate to be late.
My sis on the other hand, is the complete opposite to me and has her own time zone. You have to add between an hour to two and a half hours on to whatever time she has told you she will be there, depending on the occasion you are meeting. Take today for example, I have two whole weeks off work -YAY!- but I hate to think I'm wasting time so I still get up at the time I would for work and go out and make the most of the day. I arrange with sis to pick me up straight after she has done the school run and we will go girly shopping til three when the schools come out. So Im up and ready by 8.30, tidy round, do a load of washing, put it in the tumble when it finishes, take it out and iron it when it finishes, have a mooch at b3ta, have a flick through a catalogue and find a bed for my step sprog, compare it on the internet to about a thousand others and finally decide on the first one, order it, etc, etc. What time does she show up? 11.30. Two and a half hours late. The shocking thing is, no-one cares any more, we all expect it, she never has an excuse, and if you ask where she has been or what took her so long, all you get is: 'You know what I'm like.' So not only is she late, but she makes you feel bad for questioning her because you should know by now! Theres an excuse (or not) for you.
(Fri 29th Jun 2007, 16:18, More)

» Pet Peeves

Hmmm...
I like this QOTW. It makes me angry when people think they are better than me if they find out I live in a council flat, I'm married, have no children and work full time. We just haven't been able to afford a place of our own. Until now. Which brings me on to the next thing that makes me mad - trying to get a home. We were told there was no chain and as quickly as we could get our side of things done, we could move in. Or not as it seems, as they appear to have quickly changed their mind, they are now buying a house and we have to wait now for them to go through the same process we have nearly finished going through. Instead of moving next week, it could be next month or next year.
It also makes me angry when I am in my local shopping centre and hear from the other side of whichever shop I may be in, the cry of an obviously upset child, who needs a cuddle and some words of comfort. It makes me angry that the words of comfort are usually 'Shut the f*@k up before I give you something to really cry about.' The cuddle usually comes in the form of a greggs sausage roll wedged into their mouths to muffle the sobs. I understand it must hard looking after a child but these are usually the people who, 15 years down the line, moan about having grandkids to look after instead of having their freedom, or have to visit 2 different prisons a week to see their kids.
Got a bit carried away but it was theraputic.
Haven't posted for so long I feel like I've lost my virginity again!
(Fri 2nd May 2008, 22:39, More)

» What's the most horrific thing you've seen?

My sis...
I could leave it there as she is pretty horrific, but that isnt the full story. When we were ickle, we lived in a house with a glass front door (in the times before safety glass) and, as mentioned, my sis is horrific. She also has a horrific temper. In one of her many temper tantrums, she pummelled (one l or two?) the afore mentioned glass door rather vigorously, putting her arms straight through. Cue white, horror filled faces from 3 small children, one mother completely frozen to the spot, one child with both arms stuck in a glass door and blood arcing through the air as far back as 12ft (stopping only because the back door was closed, as we found out later when we were cleaning up) and - luckily for us all - a little old man, on his way back from collecting his paper, neatly dressed (as old men tended to be) in suit and tie. Said little old man sees the nightmare in front of him, whips off his tie and chucks a tournique around my sis arm. Sis severed her arteries but was fine after an operation and a couple of days in hospital, but proudly bears the 7inch long, 1 inch wide, 1/2 inch high, snake-like scar to all who doubt her temper. (I say doubt because she hasnt learned her lesson, she's still a loon, but is such a great actress no-one would ever know except us closest to her!
(Mon 25th Jun 2007, 13:31, More)

» Procrastination

Also....
too lazy to bother finishing my chemistry and biology A levels 17 too many years ago, so now I'm a hairdresser, that back fired on me didn't it?
(Thu 13th Nov 2008, 22:49, More)