Champagne Cocktails are evil

it was a night to remember

except I can't - any of it really

Today I had a coffee date with a boy I don't remember meeting.

It could've been all my fault - spur of the moment urge to go out dancing, one fantastic rubber-armed friend who agreed not to stick to her resolve to spend the night in when she heard that I feared that I was officially becoming boring. So with one enthusiastic 'well we can't have that then!' the night was all on.

I made the champagne cocktails. I shouldnt've. One too many (who am I kidding, try 4 too many...) later and we rocked into a bar and my friend got chatting to some lovely but unattractive guy. I remember the trivia game, I remember him losing and agreeing to buy us drinks. And that's the last thing I remember.

Both me and my friend both don't remember the night - but I didn't feel shabby the next day so I'm half suspicious our drinks may've been spiked, but it's hard to claim that when I know we both deserved to be pretty bloody drunk anyways.

So I don't remember getting home, but I woke up in the early hours of the morning, jumped out of bed and wrapped a towel around me (oddly enough not questioning why I was sleeping naked) and popped to the loo. Got back to my room, hung the towel up, turned round and got the shock of my life. There was a boy in my bed! I took a closer look, and he looked familiar, something made me relax a little, not sure what my train of thought was or if I was capable of logistical process at that particular point in time, but I just crawled back into bed and snoozed.

Some time later there was rustling and I wasn't brave enough to open my eyes and attempt conversation while he threw his clothes back on. There was a little bit of time that passed then a brief peck on my not-quite-awake face and he was gone.

but he left a note. His name (the only way I was ever going to know what it was) his number, and a kinda cute little message. All I knew about him was that he must carry a notepad round with him, his name, and that he couldn't quite spell acquaintance.

So I rang him and he was surprisingly easy to chat to, turned out he was a comedian (literally) and a fellow aussie - can't escape them!

but we caught up for coffee today and Mr Funny is a lovely guy... cute too!

First time I've ever had a second meeting with a one night stand. I'd told him on our first phone conversation that I remembered little of Saturday night, but today I came clean and told him that the sum total of all I remember of the night adds up to about 8 minutes. Doesn't seem to bother him - though it's the weirdest thing not have absolutely no memory of the first time you kissed a particular boy... let alone the first time you shagged him.

Definitely not one to tell the grandchildren.



oh - and the second time we kissed was fine :)

Nerds on the Pull

This - with love from my favourite ex-colleague (a bloke) in Australia, who scored an invite:

Google are doing the rounds up in Brisbane. I don't think they really want to meet me - I think its nerds on the pull. That's what I get from reading in-between these lines:

"we would like to issue a special invitation to the women attendees to join us for a pre-event cocktail starting at 6:30 pm. This would be a time for you to meet with some of the Google engineers in a more informal environment, and meet each other as well!".

I have never felt so wanted.

I can't believe they actually distributed that - so we can now surmise that theirs is a predominately male workforce, and the general corporate impression is that they need help meeting women. tops. way to pull, guys.

how embarrassment ;)

Mourning

...the sad and unexplained death of my ipod. This morning it just plain refused to turn on.

I can't turn anything on lately... not even my ipod. Oh the misery that is my non-existent social life. feeling it. Now I can't even distract myself with music!

but should I start to contemplate suicide, I shall remember these lyrics:

For billions of years since the outset of time, every single one of your ancestors survived. Every single person on your mum and dad's side, successfully looked after and passed on to you, life.

On the Edge of a Cliff - The Streets

In search of optimism...

blame my ipod, but does anyone else agree that these are just the loveliest lyrics ever -

How many times
Can a man watch the sun rise
Over his head
Without feeling free?

and this other verse almost makes me wish that there were many incredibly inappropriate men in my past whom I'd dated and fallen madly, passionately in love with...

- then I'd be able to read these lyrics with an ever-so-wistful sigh -

How many fools
Will I let unlock the door to my heart?
When I know that, I know that
They shouldn't have had the key

alas there are too few men in my past in general, only two of which have ever had the key to my front door... let alone my heart. Still, plenty of time to rectify that I guess!


(lyrics to Hot Tequila Brown - Jamiroquai)

I am a broken woman

first time I've been able to get to the gym in a while...

- it's been just over my week since I went public with my resolve to lose 2 kilos in 2 months

I hopped on the scales to discover not quite 2 kilos, but a kilo and a half - barely one week in and only 500g off the 2 kilo change in weight I'm hoping for

except that that is how much I've gained

I shit you not.

un-be-fookin-lievable

Swedish Meatballs

alas, I am at work. No nordic modern-day viking insisted that he and I sail off into the sunset. Bugger.

Actually, there was a complete and utter lack of gorgeous blonde-haired, blue-eyed anything - men or women. Seemed to be a lot of kids though - either they grow up ugly and brunette, or (my personal theory) they leave the country to become the exotic and envied gorgeous international students at universities the world over. Perhaps, as one friend suggested, it's only the blonde, blue-eyed nymphomaniacs that get the passports.

we'll never know.

Always the way

the 'couple' of drinks I decided to have with the work crew turned into many and many more, first at one pub, then a visit to my favourite cocktail bar to reacquaint myself with my favourite cocktail (it'd been far too long!), then traipsed all the way up to Angel for more drinks at a pub with some of my friend's RBS workmates.

Was ever so close to actually sticking to my resolve to just have one sociable drink and then go home and pack for the next day's trip to Stockholm. Politely refused a drink when offered... but then caved. Had my arm twisted. Damn rubber arm.

I was rocking around carrying a rather heavy belated birthday present - nicely boxed delivery of white wine and chocolate truffles that I had originally planned to consume for a less-than-healthy dinner. I love chocolate at the best of times but consuming them whilst drunk on the tube ride home and *oh* - they were manna from heaven!

Mind you, the cornish pasty I'd had earlier the night was also an absolute culinary delight to my alcohol-sozzled tastebuds.

I have no idea what a cornish pasty tastes like when you're sober.

Home at 1am and was still too drunk to even consider packing for Stockholm... however I did manage to remember to stick the bottle of wine straight in the fridge

some things you just do on auto pilot :)

New Topic Required

seriously.

need to get out of this food/weight-focussed mentality. need to get a life!

I'd best work on that one - the worst thing about trying to cultivate a vaguely interesting blog about your life is that it brings to your immediate attention that you may need a life that's vaguely interesting.

Maybe I'll just start making stuff up. When Mark Twain decided that truth was stranger than fiction he mustnt've been writing a blog - or at least reading this one.

Anyways, the reason for re-visiting this weighty topic (unforgivable pun, yes) a well-meaning-workmate has this horrendous habit of repeating a little belief of his - actually, much to my annoyance he repeats many of his beliefs - people so opinionated and set in their ways disturb me, but that's another rant.

Why he feels the needs to repeatedly enlighten me with the gem of information that 'all these women who want to be size 0s have no idea that men prefer women with a bit of weight on them' I can only guess at. So I do guess. I guess he imagines this is a shocking revelation that will make me happy. So I can only infer that he doesn't mistake me for a size 0 and is ever so subtly trying to convince me that it's okay to carry extra weight. joy.

Note that I have never complained about my weight or the increasing tightness of my jeans to this boy. ever. not my style.

It's like once upon at time in an office years ago, when a co-worker (who I always imagined would be an exact replica of a human-pig hybrid should ever science create one) casually remarked that I was stocky. That I wouldn't want to take up swimming because a stocky build like mine would get muscly. No woman wants to be described as stocky. ever. there's a tip from you to me.

Oh, the joys of working within the IT industry and the ever-so-suave men it attracts!

The thing is, I'm either the most arrogant and delusional woman alive (possible) but I am (usually) fine with my weight. 5 foot 3 and a half... 60kg, aiming for 58... a standard size 10. I don't hate what I see in the mirror - but then I don't see stocky - or someone carrying extra weight (unless I'm silly enough to breathe out and turn sideways!)

Thanks boys.

Hunger

The reason I sit here contemplating my dietary habits is that I'm bored at work. I rush for my morning coffee, then count down the minutes til lunchtime, thus ensuring that my entire day revolves around food. I have to resist consuming an unhealthy number of tasty hot chocolate sachets that sit mocking me from the tea room. Only an intravenous drip filled with melted chocolate could offer a more efficient chocolate delivery system. hmph. I reckon weight is directly related to job satisfaction, if I were challenged instead of bored shitless I would have better things to do than dream of my tasteless-but-healthy pasta salad.

Rules

I've broken one of my rules.

I always swore that I would never, ever, under any circumstances diet. Ofcourse, when made this agreement with myself I was a svelte 22 year old with an incredibly large appetite and the metabolism of a racehorse.

My eating habits used to be the stuff of legend. During my university days my sports team would closely observe what I ate and inevitably some aspect of my edible conquests would make it into every post-competition write up for the uni magazine. My favourite trick was consuming 2 whopper burgers right before a game - I still maintain that I played better if I did.

The year I turned 23 I started full time office work. I do remember noticing that my gargantuan appetite quelled somewhat and I was ever so slightly pleased. Then I started gaining weight. Not so pleased. The disturbing trend continued... and all of a sudden I *got* why my inexplicable ability to consume horrendously large servings of food had made my teammates so envious. So *this* was why women dieted!

Thankfully I did stop expanding. Sumo wrestling was never seriously contemplated as a possible career choice. Although I still eat more than most blokes I know. You know those people that just eat as much as they want and never gain weight? Well, my theory is that I'm one of those people... or should be... it's just that I eat twice as much as any decent human my size should.

So back to the breaking of the rules. Lately I've spent so much time whingeing about how tight my jeans are, and squirming in discomfort at the cruel waistband that insists on cutting into my soft and deliciously pudgy tummy, that I decided that life would be a little bit more comfortable if I made an effort towards dropping a couple of kilos. Running parallel with my solemn vow never to diet was a solemn vow never to bitch and whinge about my weight like a girly-girl. I grew up being a tomboy you see, and am still coming to terms with some of the girly-girl tendencies I've been increasingly picking up of late.

So not only have I resolved to lose 2 kilos in the next 2 months, but I've actually informed a couple of my friends of this new resolve. I'm putting it out there. Not overly ambitious, but then I'm a healthy lass and not exactly obese. Now I'm also informing the 2 people who may accidentally happen over this blog post on their misguided way to somewhere else, but hey, by putting it in print I might have to read it in 2 month's time and realise I have all the willpower of a fat kid in a candy store.