Too much pressure

Have you ever sat on one of the priority seats on a train or bus and immediately felt an immense amount of pressure? I guess some fuckers out there will be like “no, what you going on about, is there priority seating on public transport? Surely if when I get on the bus and occupy a seat then that is mine until I get off.” No you little horrors, priority seats are for people who need to sit down more than you, like the elderly, people with disabilities, pregnant birds (or blokes I guess) and people who are severely hungover. Okay, admittedly I just added that last one but those poor people should qualify for priority seating to, have you ever tried standing on a bus when that evil fucker Tequila is still occupying your body? Brutal.

A pregnant colleague was saying just the other day how the train was so busy and she had to stand. This made my blood boil. It’s not even like you don’t want to offend just in case she isn’t pregnant, she is like full on about to drop preggers. Such a nice bird as well, there was me slagging the horrible cunts off and she’s like “well no-one really looks up anymore so they probably just didn’t notice me.” Which is true, everyone is in there phone rather than taking in what is going on around them. Do not get me started on spacial awareness!

So why is it, that when I sit in the priority seats, I feel like I’m a judge on the X-Factor. Like genuinely, it’s the closest I’ll ever feel to being God like and it’s proper stressful. Watching people get on and judging whether they are worthy of the priority seat you’re currently occupying. Now I could be one of those horrible fuckers buried in me phone and not looking up but that’s not me, I just can’t do it. Besides, it’s a great excuse to be a right judgey bitch and all in a good cause. Excuse me while I polish my halo, you may now call me Saint fuckin Michelle!

What a minefield it is though; I mean obvs you have your blatant priority folk: the elderly, the preggers, those with disabilities and the severely hungover but it is hard sometimes to decide. For example, at what age do you qualify as elderly and in need of a seat? Does someone who’s older than me qualify for the seat I’m occupying? Do you risk offending asking someone who looks older than you but not elderly if they need your seat? What if you do offend them and royally piss all over their day, how cuntish is that. It’s a bloody nightmare, I’m just going to stay well away from the priority seats from now on, I just can’t be dealing with that much pressure on me daily commute.

I must say, not all of my fellow commuters are a horrible bunch of fuckers, most are but not all.  Just the other day, I was on a busy train on the way home standing as per the norm and this lovely fella asked me if I wanted his seat.  Now I’m just going to assume that this lovely man was being a gentleman (yay for chivalry) and wasn’t asking because he thought I was older than him or preggers.  Oh fuck off, he was defo being a gentleman….

In other news: well it is not actually other news but a rant. Don’t you just hate those fuckers that recline on a plane. Another stress induced situation, watching people get on your plane being a judgey bitch and praying they don’t sit in the seat in front of you because that fucker looks like a right recliner!!

 

Friend or Frenemy?

“I bought 2 Amazon products for someone to talk to” this is a direct quote from one of my friends and it had me howling, even saying it back now is making me chuckle. Cheers bird. In what could easily have been a scene from a cheesy chick flick me and some girlfriends sat around a kitchen table drinking whatever was put in front of us, talking shit, whilst the men folk did their own thing. We were chatting about the different dynamics of friendships groups and how extroverts and introverts can live happily ever after in good healthy friendships.

Having good friends is important to me and I think most birds will agree (I know, some birds don’t enjoy having girlfriends because hanging out with guys means less drama etc etc) that sitting around with your girlfriends sinking a couple……okay a few bottles of wine (oh fuck off judgey, as if two bottle of wine between more than two women are going to make it past the hour) is the best type of therapy.

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Why is it though, that sometimes we invite people into our lives and rather than being a good, healthy friendship, it turns out to be toxic; you know the type the bitches who make you question yourself, who are always trying to one up you all the time or make you feel bad about yourself so they can feel better about themselves.  These bitches exist, I have met up with a few girlfriends over the past week and even literally just asked a bird at work and in the past, they all had one of these toxic friendships.

Erm, so if you’re reading this and thinking you hypocritical bitch; firstly, thanks for reading my blog, secondly, my Insta is open if you want to see all the fun things I am doing and thirdly, I’m sorry. Because here’s the thing, can we all honestly look in the mirror and say nope, I have never been that bitch, I am not good frenemy material. Well if you haven’t, bully for you, go and polish your twattin halo and pray for all us bitches who sometimes make the mistake of being a complete and utter c**t (oops sorry if that offends, it’s okay to not be a bitch, some people just aren’t capable of being c**ts).

In other news: I had a fabulous evening last night with my oldest Canadian friend (as in time served. Not that it’s like a prison sentence being my friend (fuck, am I actually one of those bitches?!), we went to Vij’s it was amazing. Not sure even where to start with this place; the food was awesome, the service fabulous and the setting on the patio perfect. The owner grafted the whole time we were there taking the time to chat with his guests, take pictures of tables and oblige the selfie requests.

This place is mad popular, if you don’t have a reservation turn up early. The lineup got big pretty fast. You won’t regret the wait though, the food literally makes you dance in your seat 🙂

You horrible bitch…….

Argh, I am so pissed off right now, I don’t often let anyone other than myself piss all over my day but as my lovely Welsh friends would say, “I’m tamping, raging, fuming.”

I am having a fab week, work has been productive, Tuesday was a day off, I received my tax refund yesterday (which went straight to pay for the desert race that I stupidly agreed to run/walk/crawl with Mr C ugh), we met our fab friends last night and had an awesome meal at Tableau Bistro and tomorrow night, we are meeting up with a load of British ex-pats for what is no doubt going to be a very messy night. So after work today I head to my Hip Hop dance class to perfect my moves to Hurricane Chris’s Halle Berry (tbh, I was shit at it, like proper shit but hey it was fun and that’s what counts right). Anyways, I finish and go to get the bus home feeling happy, famished and looking forward to whatever concoction Mr C was knocking up for dinner (okay let’s be clear about this, when I say “knocking up” that doesn’t mean Mr C is nailing (in case I need to also clear this up, when I say “nailing,” I mean fuckin, shaggin, making love etc etc) me dinner, “knocking up” is also a term for throwing something together. )

If you’re still with me after that last paragraph, first of all, well done, I read that back and got proper fuckin lost. Secondly, bear with me, I’m almost at why my blood is boiling a wee (small not urine) bit.

So, I gets on the bus and all is well (that’s not really true, all wasn’t well in the first place. Like a dumb twat, I’d forgotten me sunglasses and was getting right blinded by the sun), I’m excited to get home for me dinner and to watch our new Netflix show Safe and boom, some horror gets on me bus and totally fucks up my smug life is great vibe……..cheers love.

A family gets on, a Mum, Dad, a stroller (buggy), two little people and an even smaller one. Now, I imagine you think I’m going to start banging on about the little people and the even smaller one but no, something happened that might surprise you and for sure surprised me………………

Next stop, some older bird gets on the bus and she, is the horror who pissed all over my week. The family had their stroller in the spot where the fold up chairs are and though there was plenty of other seats this bird said loud enough for the whole bus to hear and sound like a complete bitch “can you move this so at least one person can sit down.” The family of course, shuffled the little people, even smaller one and the stroller to accommodate her request. I sit there all quiet, still being blinded by the bloody sun and thinking about me dinner. Well my inner warrior, decides that now is the time to tear herself from whatever slaying she is doing elsewhere and bless me with her presence.

The even smaller person starts kicking off and though their Dad is doing his best to calm it down, the older bird cannot hide her miserable judgey self. At first, she starts glancing up at the family disapprovingly but then she openly glares at them, starts shaking her head and starts tutting away and that’s, when my inner Warrior (Shelly) puts in an appearance.

Unfortunately Shelly didn’t have to much time to amuse herself with the miserable bird as the next stop was ours and as I mentioned before, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Mr C was knocking up for dinner. Obvs we wasn’t going to stay quiet though. I purposely walk to the front even though it wasn’t the closest exit and said to misery “what do you expect, it’s just a baby” to which she replies “mind your own business.” Now I know, the mature thing to do, would have been to shake my head in disappointment and hope that misery would reflect on her behaviour and realize she’s being a bitch. I didn’t do that. I smiled at the family, said thank you to the bus driver and called misery a “judgey cow” as I stepped off the bus.

Do you know what, I don’t even like kids, they make me itch and tbh I don’t care for anyone who can’t buy a round but this miserable woman proper got on my tits (not literally), was a horrible person and was obviously making the Mum and Dad feel uncomfortable and thought she was for some delusional reason, superior.  We taught her eh.

In other news: Mr C continues to hold onto a distinction on his MBA and though it’s not the same as my now amazing hip-hop dance skills, I do have to give credit where it’s due.

 

 

 

 

Half-Marathon Etiquette

I ran in a half marathon race on Sunday (yeah yeah go me right, I am fuckin awesome). Like some of the other idiots there, I did zero training (It wasn’t just me right?!), which became evident after the 10 km point. So though I cannot give out any training advice or tips (except to say that, yes you should defo do some sort of training) I can sure let you know about race etiquette (which may or may not just be my opinion) so pin ya ears back.

When you sign up for a race they will ask you what time you intend to finish it in. This isn’t to pin you down and say you have to run the race in that time. They do this to split runners down into different start groups. If you are in a faster corral, especially if you’re running with Sue, Karen, Annie, Wanda and Pauline in squad form (also really irritating), you can get in the way of faster runners.  Tips on choosing the right corral.

If you have to slow down or stop, use your arms as signals and get to the side. It is perfectly fine to stop.  I guarantee the only person judging you for stopping is yourself. Unless you’re that twat who abruptly stops in the middle of the race path, don’t be that person. Imagine it, Kim is running behind you at her 100%, she is in her element and feeling fuckin awesome; you stop abruptly and boom, poor Kim is out of the race and yes, now everyone is judging you.

When there is shade, get in it. Yes, it’s lovely the sun is shining and it’s the perfect opportunity to work on ya tan. No it’s not knobhead. It’s the perfect opportunity for sun stroke and heat exhaustion.  Save the tanning for afterwards when you can chill on a patio, being that smug fucker telling all and sundry that you just ran a half-marathon.

Whenever water, electrolytes or snacks are offered, take them. You don’t want to be that dumb fuck who turns their noses up at electrolytes in the form of sports drinks, only to get severe calf cramps at the 19 mile point on a full marathon (yes I’ve completed one of those too.  See told you I was fuckin awesome. Okay I am dumb occasionally but who isn’t) and have to be dragged to the side by some old dude and walk the rest of the way.

Don’t throw water cups at the volunteers. I know what you’re thinking, as if you need to be told to not throw water cups at the volunteers. I saw it, with my very own eyes this Sunday when I ran a half-marathon (I am fuckin awesome), some c**t so obsessed with himself didn’t look to see where he was throwing his cup and it hit a volunteer and water went all over her.  Don’t be that person.

Thank the volunteers. Mr C and I have volunteered for one race, the Hypothermic Half which is held in various cities; we were at the one in Edmonton, Alberta. Besides the fuckers taking the piss because we pronounce water properly (we’re English knobhead, we made the language up) all the runners were so lovely thanking us for volunteering.  I made sure to thank all (okay a lot of) the volunteers on Sunday when I was running the half-marathon (I am fuckin awesome). I even thanked the Scientology lot who had set up a table. To be fair, they had the best, much needed snacks, bless them………………….

If you see a person with their hand held out for a high five or holding a sign saying “power up here.” Don’t be a miserable twat, give the weirdos their high fives and hit their signs. They could be taking part in the only way they can. At least they’re there cheering you on, when any normal person would be in bed at such a god awful (sorry) time on a Sunday morning.  Don’t be a judgey twat.

Don’t judge your fellow runners and assume you can run faster than them because you’re smaller or younger. I used to do this all time, look at a person and think I could easily beat them. It really doesn’t work like that.  It doesn’t matter if someone is older, bigger or wearing a banana suit, don’t compare yourself to others, everyone is running their own race.

Don’t judge yourself, another tough one. We set our goals and tear ourselves apart if we don’t reach them. Guess what, if you don’t run as fast as you wanted to or ran as far as you wanted to, you can train and do it again. That’s the best thing about running, if you keep at it you will for sure see improvement.

So they’re all my tips on race etiquette, hopefully it was a useful read!!!

 

 

 

 

Might get a boob job……

I went to hip hop dance class last night, I’m trying to diversify my dance skills for when Bèy reaches out and asks me to star in one of her videos (I’m visualizing the fuck out of this, so it will happen soon. All you doubters can fuck right off with ya eye rolls). I must say, I reckon pretty soon I will be ready for the big time. Must remember that it’s all about patterns and that music is a road map. That’s what our instructor said and that little fella can move so I’m going to pay attention to him.

He also said that we should not act like it’s school and not to talk to people we don’t know but get to know each other and high five each other (I did eye roll then, what is it with the fuckin high fiving, you just said we’re not in high school mate). I think me asking some random bird in the changing rooms for a hair tie shows that I am happy to make friends with my fellow dancers (okay potential dancers but you should have heard our stomps, we sounded proper fierce).

If anyone is interested the classes take place at Harbour Dance Centre which is conveniently right next to a bar with a patio.

I was so unprepared that morning that I’d almost forgotten dance class, it was one of those mornings that even Eric couldn’t get me out of bed until the very last safe moment. Yep, I was hungover AF (don’t judge it was Wednesday the day before and we all know what that means). Mr C and I have been doing alright at not drinking through the week (excuse me whilst I polish my halo) so figured I should celebrate my achievement.

Okay so onto the boob thing. Back to dance class, a bird was there and she obviously had fake boobs and she was owning them. Whichever way she moved those things went right with her. Now I’m not judging (you know me, I’m no judgey bitch) on the contrary, I think it was fab that she was owning the awesomeness of her fake boobs. They obviously filled her with confidence as she proper sassed her movements up. This bird was very happy with her reflection. I on the other hand avoided the mirror (unless I knew I was dancing fabulously) and when I did get a glimpse I chastised myself for my terrible posture. My arms looked good though (I’ve been working out).

As I get older (ugh that sounds shit eh but how else do you say it. As I grow, as I mature……..they all sound shit so let’s not try and jazz it up), I do find myself looking in the mirror at those crinkly soft lines that have appeared around my eyes and wonder if a Botox injection is on the cards. Or if me boobs could do with a lift or boost or whatever you call it.  Or if I should get the hairs on me chin zapped before it turns into a full on beard and Mr C and I are fighting over the last blade!!

At the same time, as I spend this last year in my thirties, I can truly say that I am the happiest I have ever been. Life is fuckin awesome and I’m not saying that to put a positive spin on getting older, saggy boobs (okay not yet but inevitably), wrinkles or chin hair. I’m not even saying it to be an irritating positive bitch (haters gonna hate). Life just is awesome. So I’m not going to sweat the small stuff and when I turn forty I will not sink myself into a drunken stupor mourning for my youth. Okay, I will sink into a drunken stupor and I might actually mourn for my youth but I will be having fun!

In other news, he did it Mr C has talked me into signing up for racing the planet desert race . We are going to the Atacama desert in 2019 and are going to cover 250 kms in 7 days. It’s fuckin stupid I know but if you’re going to have a mid life crisis, might as well make it a challenging one!

Judgey Bitch Part 3

Not sure why this memory popped into my head on my commute to work but it did and I had to share it.

I had to go home March last year; I’d received a message from my brother saying that my Father was seriously sick and not likely to make it through. He died, Melanoma, which is an aggressive skin cancer took him.

We had to wait 3 weeks until the funeral took place. It would have been longer if we waited for a Catholic priest (seriously there is a need for Catholic priests in the town I was born. If you can do without booze (well kinda) and sex (well kinda) and are all about doing good for the people so don’t mind living in a shit hole, this could be your calling!!).

Anyways, one morning I went to my Father’s flat and decided to walk back to my lovely nieces via the route I used to walk to my Mother’s for our weekend visit. It was weird AF and a mad emotional roller coaster.

To deal with the emotional roller coaster, I did what any responsible adult would and went the pub to drink through it.

I went to the delighful local, a good old Wetherspoons. This just has to be the best people watching spot ever. You could literally stop here all day, watching. I couldn’t not laugh when I first went the bar and the server said that I speak v quiet!! No mate, that’s just a normal volume.

2 (large) glasses of wine in an old bloke sat at the table opposite me. He kept looking at me so I did my best to ignore him, staring gormlessly at the Daily Mail on my phone but he would not stop looking. So against the wishes of the judgey bitch inside me who was screaming to not make eye contact, I did just that.

“Hi do you mind if I join you?” (Judgey bitch was having a head fit “don’t you fuckin dare. Neck your wine and get out right now. DO NOT TALK TO HIM”).

He was the loveliest man, a grafter and a gentleman. We talked forever and drank some more and listened to eachother. Ned lived with his son who was a worrier and a cynic. Ned enjoyed a good laugh and like me, believed in the power of positivity.

The more I drank, the more difficult it was to keep a grip of my emotions. We chatted about people’s expectations of us and how it can cause pressure and misery. Ned told me that we give far to much credit to other people’s opinions and I agreed.

Ned helped me through that day, I don’t doubt that he took one look at me, and knew I needed someone to download on. An to think, if I would have listened to my inner judgey bitch, I would have missed out on an awesome interaction with a total stranger.

Thanks Ned x

So next time a total stranger tries to talk to you, don’t ignore them (unless you’re on a plane, on a run, if they look dodgy, if you’re reading a book, if they ask about your religious orientation or randoms trying to sign you up for charities on the street), you just never know, you might not know it but you might need them.

Would you take a shit at work?

I know, I know, this is going to be another crude post and yet again I am talking about shit. At least this time it’s about human shit and not bird shit………..just read that back, it doesn’t make it better does it?!

So I have been at my new job now for 3 weeks, I was going to say 3 whole weeks but truth be told, none of those 3 weeks have been whole (cheers mate). Next week will be my first full week and tbh (that means ‘to be honest’ for you older folk, alright and folk my age) I don’t know how I’m going to do it! Like seriously how do people have jobs, have a social life and manage to do all that adulting stuff?!  We have already transitioned to getting our groceries and Eric’s food delivered.  We even have a bird who comes in and walks Eric most days (he loves her the traitorous little bastard). There was even talk about hiring a cleaner and someone to do the ironing the other day (apparently doing it after Sunday arvo drinking isn’t such a great idea and is a pretty pointless exercise).

When I wasn’t working I wasted so much time doing nothing, doing nothing was what took all my time up! Every time Mr C would ask what I’m doing, I would respond with “cleaning,” but we lived in a 1 bed 1 bath apartment. Now, every bit of time is accounted for, we have our routine scheduled TF. Wake up at 05:45, cuddle Eric until 06:00, I work out, Mr C takes Eric for a walk. Mr C leaves at 07:00, I leave at 07:30. We still don’t make the most of our time after work, though we are signing up to a Crossfit class next week to see if we like it. Mr C is also studying his MBA and I have important research to do, which includes watching TOWIE and any ‘Real Housewives of …….’ (don’t be a judgy twat, it’s v entertaining).

Anyways, I have totally digressed (I know right, how posh is that word. Posh AF me) and need to get onto the actual topic of this blog post as indicated in the title. So I am back in the the office world and where I work is v modern and all open concept and booths. There is approx. 30 peeps in the office (mostly birds) and we share 3 toilets (washrooms, bathrooms, restrooms, the loo, whatever you want to call it but basically, the place you go to shit and pee). These toilets are always v clean but bloody stink more often than should be deemed socially acceptable. Now I know what you’re thinking (okay some of you) but it’s a toilet, how else is it supposed to smell?!

I agree, you shouldn’t go to the toilet expecting it to smell of Roses, it’s a toilet for god sakes and has a very definitive function. But, it’s a public toilet, once you leave it you can guarantee someone else is going to use it after you.  I almost threw up when I walked into one today, something which I haven’t done in a long time (okay, that’s lie, I threw up last Saturday but totally unrelatable, that was down to dodgy Oysters…..and far to much Cider on an empty stomach).

So be a sweetheart, have a shit before you come to work; unless you’re a Vegan, apparently their shit doesn’t smell!

In other news, nah I haven’t actually got any, far to busy working, drinking and talking shit to have other news!!