I don't think I have ever cacked myself as much as I did last night.

I spent the evening introducing Rachael-And-Claire-The-Bullies to One-And-Only-Daniela last night.

When One-And-Only-Daniela and myself got back from our night out I couldn't find my mobile phone so I decided to ring it with my home phone. I rang it once and it rang through, I then rang it again and it cut off. 30 seconds later my home phone started to ring with my mobile number showing on the screen. I answered the phone and the following conversation took place.

Me: Hello?
Woman's voice: Hello? Who is this please?
Me: My name's Lisa. I couldn't find my phone so I rang it. I'm taking it you have it.
Woman's voice: It was brought into the Police Station. We have it now.
Me: Oh! Is there anyway I can come and pick it up?
Police Woman: I'm going to need proof that this phone is yours.
Me: Of course. It's an iphone 3GS, it has a load of cracks on the front screen and it has a picture of my god daughter in a pink dress as the wallpaper. Is that enough?
Police Woman: Not really. Can you let me know the last text you sent from it?
Me: Ummm. I sent a text a message to my friend Rachael telling her I was stuck at Finsbury Park station on the train and I would be late to meeting her.
Police Woman: ...
Me: Can you find it?
Police woman: That is a text message on there but it isn't the last one there.
Me: Really?
Police woman: What can you tell me about the text message you sent from this phone asking someone for Cocaine?
Me: (Starts to panic) I'm sorry, what??!!
Police woman: There is a text message sent from your phone asking for cocaine. What can you tell me about that?
Me: I promise you I didn't send that! I've never taken Cocaine in my life.
Police Woman: Well how do you explain the message?
Me: It must have been sent by whoever found the phone. I promise you, I've never taken any drugs in my life. I drink alcohol occasionally but I PROMISE you I would not be asking for Cocaine... Who was the text message sent to?
Police Woman: Someone called Harry.
Me: It really wasn't me, I can't say that enough!
Police Woman: ...
Me: Am I in trouble?
Police Woman: I think it's best if you come down to the station so we can talk to you about that.
Me: Now? It's about 1 in the morning!
Police Woman: We just have a few questions we would like to ask you.
Me: Well I'm in my pyjamas at the moment, it might take me a while to get changed but of course I'll come down. I should be there in half an hour.
Police woman: ...
Me: Is that okay?
Police woman: (Starts to laugh) Lisa you arse! It's me!
Me: What??!!... Claire?
"Police Woman": I can't believe you fell for that!
Me: I can't believe you did that!! THIS is why you are called Claire-The-Bully!

Ladies and gents, that was by far the most scared I have ever been in my life. One-And-Only-Daniela was also completely terrified as she had to sit by and listen to me apologising to an officer about cocaine use.

I honestly thought this was going to end up being one of those things you see on TV where I was going to end up in prison for something I hadn't done. My mother would have cried, my permanent record would have been down as a druggie and I would end up never being able to get a job and end up living on the streets until eventually I died of malnutrition or some kind of disease.

Having said all that, I've never been so happy that it was a joke. I also have to agree that Claire-The-Bully got me pretty good.

Well done Claire-The-Bully, I tip my hat to you.

This 'saying stupid things over the phone' milarkey seems to be happening far too often for my liking.

A phone conversation that took place two hours ago between myself and Rachael-The-Bully. 

Rachael-The-Bully has been changed to RTB.

RTB: Hi Lisa, what have you and One-And-Only-Daniela got planned tonight?
Me: Oh nothing big, probably just down to the local for a couple of drinks. I've got a really bad cold so it can't be a late one. Fancy it?
RTB: Yeah, actually that works really well as Claire has had that Thyroid problem this week so she's not really up for a late one either. 
Me: I've been meaning to talk to her about that! She text me on Wednesday telling me about that and then the next day my Thyroids had swollen up to twice their size. She had somehow managed to pass it to me over text.
RTB: Um Lisa?
Me: Yeah?
RTB: Do you really mean your glands?
Me: ...
RTB: I mean you DO know that you only have one Thyroid and it's on your spine not under your jaw, right?
Me: Actually that explains a lot. I was telling Work-Buddy-James about how I had caught Claire-The-Bully's thyroid problem and he had looked at me blankly and asked me if I had actually meant thyroid. Which I gleefully had confirmed. 
RTB: Don't you work in a hospital?
Me: Yeah but it's a Mental Health hospital and I'm admin, I don't need to know anything about general medicine.
RTB: Still Lisa, that's really bad... I'm going to have to email Claire with this one. 
Me: Brilliant. Even more ammo. Tonight's going to be grand. 

Most of the time I have a logical explanation for the 'not normal' things that come out of my mouth. But sometimes? Sometimes I'm just that stupid. 

What's that Lisa? Another thing that makes you socially awkward? Well there's a surprise!

I had my appraisal at work today. I don't want to brag or nuffink but I did pretty good! 

One thing that I realised though is the appraisal setting is the only setting where I can take a compliment without being filled with awkwardness and suspicion. 

In every other case my default thought reaction to any spontaneous compliment that comes my way is:

First: "Who told you to say that?"
Second: "Why are you being weird?"
Third: "What obligation do you owe me?"
And ending with fourth: "Oh my I feel awkward right now."

Whilst all the time my face looks like this:



It's not to say that I don't like getting compliments. I do. I just only learn to like them about 6 hours later when I've let my neuroses calm down and I'm able to process the words spoken at me. 

Today in my appraisal however, I had feedback forms read to me from my bosses and due to the fact that these aren't the type of people to compliment for the hell if it, I was oddly able to take the compliments and not feel awkward. 

Thinking about it, it may have had a lot to do with the fact that the people who had written the feedback forms weren't in the room. I'm pretty sure if they were have said it to my face I would have told them to stop being silly, "it's my job."

Actually, yes this can be confirmed as afterwards one of the guys who had written the form came in and I toyed with saying thanks for the feedback but then was crippled silent by the awkwardness that i was sure would inevitably follow... 

I will say thanks eventually... I think. 

I guess this post can serve as an explanation should you ever find yourself in a situation where you've said something nice to me and I've suddenly mumbled something incoherent and left the room. It's not because I don't appreciate the words, and I definitely am not saying that I don't LIKE getting compliments, I'm just... Well... socially stunted. 

Those compliments and nice words today actually made my day today, I can tell you guys this because I don't have to worry about reacting correctly whilst in a social interaction. Whether I can tell the actual people is another story... 

You know what? I'm going to try it, I'm going to aim to say thanks for the nice words and then marvel at myself and my personal growth.

I'm making it sound like I get compliments all the time. I really don't, probably why I act so weird about them. But that's not an invitation for some!! I really am not fishing, please don't think that! Oh see, this is why I just don't comment on things like this, I don't know how to. 

If you've ever said anything nice to me... Thanks and sorry for being so weird about it. 

Peace out my lovelies. 

WARNING: This post probably isn't for everyone - I apologise in advance for the ickiness.

I've been hobbling today. I'm not asking for sympathy. It is completely my fault as to why I have been but all the same, my right foot freakin hurts. 

You see, last night, just as I was getting in the shower I spotted the mother of all blisters right in middle of the ball of my foot. 

It was probably formed from all the walking I had to do on Sunday during my awesome day at Alton Towers. I remember being ready to amputate my feet by the end of that day. 

This blister was so beautiful I simply couldn't help myself. I had to pop it. The logical part of my brain was telling me that I would regret this decision. It told me that due to where it was situated, there was no way popping it wouldn't hurt like a bitch. But I wouldn't listen. 

A pull from my very core, fuelled by a rush of adrenaline and excitement forced me to abandon my shower and reach for my needle...

I'm not going to go into the details of it for the same reason I won't upload a photo. I don't want to repulse you guys, I kind of like the fact that you read my random crap, it would suck if you stopped. 

All I will say is that the logical side of my brain has been very smug towards the rest of me today. That and my right foot looks like I have a hole gouged in it. 

Once again my impulsivity has backfired on me and today has not been pleasant. I say this not to gross you out but to explain myself should you have caught me and my rather "unique" walk today and thought to yourselves "Why's she walking like a crazy person?"

It's not because I've taken a leaf out of the Monty Python handbook and developed a new walk. No, it's because of my own perverse and rather disgusting habits, so you needn't worry. If you did though... That was kind of judgemental don't you think? Who are you to tell me how I can and can't walk? Rachael-and-Claire-The-Bullies? I have enough judgement from them to last a lifetime! 

Only kidding guys... Judge away!! 

Sorry for being so gross. 

Peace out my lovelies. 

Watch out, I have a vicious side and she's chomping at the bit!

I like to see myself as a fairly liberal girl. I don't really take myself too seriously, or anything else for that matter. I spent far too much of my past being like that and I much prefer the attitude I hold now. 

Having said that, if I do find something that annoys me then I tend to go to town on it. 

I opened the paper this morning and read an article that has been getting me more and more irate as the day has gone. I thought I'd share this with you. Ladies and gents, I give you:

Lisa's nonce of the year.

This is what I read this morning. For those who can't access it (or simply can't be bothered to) let me summarise. 

Her name is Holly. She's 19 years old and 5 months pregnant. She's also a complete and utter twat. 

She's basically sold her story to the papers, stating that although she's pregnant, she feels she's too young to be. So instead of making some form of sensible choice like abortion or keeping it safe for 9 months and then adopting the child, she has decided to keep it but just pretend it's not there. 

She has gone on record (with that smug smile of hers) and said the following 'makes-me-want-to-smack-her-round-the-head' comments:

- She plans on binge drinking 5 days a week whilst clubbing until the bump starts to show and then she will continue drinking at home. 

- When asked why she would do that, she said that she worries she'll be seen as boring if she stops. 

- When asked about the risk this is having on her baby, her direct quote was "I'm not an idiot, I know I might be doing my baby harm."

- The only time she seems to acknowledge she's pregnant is when she thinks she can get sympathy for it, blaming her hang overs as morning sickness and using her pregnancy as an excuse when she wants to eat double the amount she usually does. 

This is a girl who will sacrifice her own child's health for the rest of it's life so that she can appear popular for 9 months. 

Say it with me people... WHAT AN ARSE!!

I have friends who have been trying to be parents for ages. I have friends who can't have children at all. And here this girl comes rocking up showing off her 'oh-too-fertile' womb and announces to everyone how she plans on potentially destroying the life she is creating so that she can have a few drunken nights out. 

I think the thing that gets me is how much it doesn't make sense. If she wanted to party and stay young and carefree, why didn't she have an abortion? I find it hard to believe that it's because she believes in the sanctity of the life of the child she's holding because... Well, you know. 

If she did believe in that but still wanted the fun of teenage life, why not wait 9 months, give the kid to someone who will actually love it and then go back to getting smashed. I mean, how insecure does one person have to be to think everyone will abandon her within 9 months?

I would conclude that she just must be a masochist who takes joy in the odd torture but I don't think it's that deep rooted. I just don't think she cares. She could not give a rat's arse about anyone beyond her own selfish needs. 

And that, ladies and gents, is why she is 

Lisa's nonce of the year.  

Rant over.

I'd get the buckets out for this one... just in case.

If I fall asleep in the middle of this post it's not because I've bored myself into a stupor (I hope), it's more likely due to the fact that I am completely knackered from yesterday's awesome but unbelievably packed schedule. 

You see, yesterday was the birthday of my oldest friend in the whole world (in terms of how long I've known her, not in terms of how old she is (Claire-The-Bully and Rachael-The-Bully are far further in the lead with that one)). 

I've introduced a lot of friends in my life to you guys over the months but alas this girl has yet to come up because in December I carelessly (for a second time) moved away from her and now I barely get to see her anymore. Her name is Oldest-Friend-Cafrin. I have known her for 15 years and in all that time we have never once had an argument. She is simply one of the most understanding, loyal and freakin hilarious people I have ever met. 

She also has a four year old daughter who happens to be my God daughter. Her name is Chloe and that girl is AWESOME. 



Yesterday we went to Alton Towers which (for those of you who aren't local) is miles away. 

We went up the day before, stayed at a bed and breakfast and then spent the day in the massive theme park. 

I've no doubt my God daughter loves me and she did tell me so on many an occasion yesterday, but unfortunately there is a little effect I tend to have on her whenever I get into a car with her. 

This effect is not a pleasant one... For anyone involved. But for some reason, when Chloe sits behind me in long car journeys, she will decide that this would be a good time to projectile vomit across the car. 

This, I'm assured, only happens when I'm there and last night she repeated the experience I was all too familiar with. This (bless her heart) set her into a state of tears, claiming that it was all her fault and she was so sorry. This of course being met with a series of reassurances from everyone in the car. 

Just as the smell was reaching a point where I felt I might join her in emptying the contents of my stomach as well, we managed to get off the motorway and begin the clean up process. 

The first time this had happened (when she was just 3 years old) we had managed to calm her down pretty quickly. Even to the point where she was able to turn her big brown eyes to Oldest-Friend-Cafrin and say "That was a little bit gross, wasn't it mummy?"

This time however, it took a little bit more convincing. Obviously I felt entirely guilty about this as it was quite obvious who was the common denominator in all this and so who's fault it truly was... 

Poor girl will never get into a car with me again. Even if she wanted to, I'm pretty sure her dad Steve wouldn't allow it, his car's beginning to develop a permanent smell nowadays...

So there you have it, my reason for not having any kids of my own. It's not because of my crippling commitment phobias, it's not even (as it has been hinted) to spite my mother and gran. Nope, it's  because my very presence makes four year olds projectile vomit.

Oh hi BTV. Welcome to my crib!

I have food in my house. It has been void of food for a while now... Like a decade. But last night, just before 9pm, a magical man in uniform arrived at my door with crates and crates of edible joy. 

It feels so good! I can't stress how empty my cupboards have been. I even ran out of baked beans! I never run out of baked beans. 

I was down to one can of tuna, a tenth of a bottle of Mayo, some slightly stale bread and a handful of pasta. That was pretty much it. 

Oh, I did have a packet of 'Skips' crisps but they had gone off a month back. I was keeping them just in case it got that bad. Thankfully I was about a day off from hitting that level of desperation. 

Anyway, I've now well and truly stocked the kitchen storage facilities of all the complex food a highly talented gourmet chef like myself needs. 







Excuse me while I go and make myself a stunning and highly complicated meal of 'du pan au bacon' heavily soaked in 'la sauce brune'. That's how I roll. 

Peace out my lovelies. 

Younger-Brother-Daniel just doesn't stop. What's next? Drowning kittens?

Great. What a pigeon move. I've only been preparing in my head for yesterday for about a month and I go and sodding miss it!

Due to my pure incensed rage for Younger-Brother-Daniel's severely appalling and highly illegal theft/kidnap I completely forgot what yesterday's post should have been about. Now I'll never get that moment again. 

You see, yesterday I posted my 100th post! Huzzah!! I feel that should mean I qualify for something... Like a certificate stating I'm a professional blogger or at least a slip of paper that says "Congratulations! You've wasted 100 nights of your life talking about crap!"

Hmmm, I like that idea. And there could be a little star in the corner with a smiley face...  

I shall be waiting in anticipation by my front door for it's arrival. 

As (due to Younger-Brother-Daniel's extreme rubbishness) I have missed this very rare occasion I'm not even going to dignify this post with a point. 

See you at post 200 at an uuber party I shall organise to celebrate it!... Unless I forget again, in which case I'll see you at post 201 when I shall just re-post this one again. 

Also please don't stop reading and then only come back on that post. Not only will that make me cry but how else will you know when I get there?

I love you. 

Peace out my lovelies.

Side note to add... I just got home after writing this post and laughed heartily because posted back to me in a nice packaged envelope was this...



Okay Younger-Brother-Daniel you may have redeemed yourself a little with this one.

Wait... what do you call it when someone kidnaps a kid then happily gives them back??

...

Babysitting?

Definition of irony? ... My face.

On Saturday my cousin got married. 



A week prior, the most immense film came out on DVD. 



I'm not kidding, if you haven't seen it then you need to. For more of my thoughts on this, check out my review.

Younger-Brother-Daniel rocked up at my house prior to the wedding with Older-Brother-Glyn and Marmie (mum).

He got dressed into his suit and noticed my copy of 'Never Let Me Go' placed (rather lovingly) next to my TV. 

It's permanently there due to the fact that I'm in my honeymoon phase with the film at the moment. I watch it every night and sometimes, on days when I have the time, even twice in a row. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. 

So with all that being said, you can imagine why I was reluctant to lend it to Younger-Brother-Daniel as I didn't know when I would next see him (he doesn't live close).

Younger-Brother-Daniel thought the concept of me not wanting to part with my DVD as ludicrous and he told me so... Quite animatedly... With fervent agreements from Older-Brother-Glyn and Marmie. 

All the while, every time I tried to imagine parting with it, I felt a pull at my very core. It felt like what I would imagine parting with a child would be like. As I don't have children and am massively allergic to cats I think it's a suitable substitute. 

Anyway, I kept my ground, apologised profusely for not being more helpful, adding that any of my other DVD's are available for loan. Just not this one... Not yet. 

It became a bit of a long running joke throughout the day. I was called selfish and possessive but I grinned and bared it because I believed this was important. 

Last night my brother Skyped me:

Younger-Brother-Daniel has been shortened to YBD.

YBD: So are you going to lend me Never Let Me Go or what?
Me: Oh! Did you want to borrow that? You should have said when you were here. I'd have been more than happy to lend it to you. 
YBD: Oh is that so?
Me: (Sighs) If only I'd known. 
YBD: Oh it's okay because I happen to have a copy here (holds up 'Never Let Me Go' to the screen). 
Me: (laughs) Oh, so I take it you went out and bought-

I stop as my eyes fall on the empty space by my TV. I feel the blood leave my face. 

Me: Is that actually my copy you're holding?

YBD laughs. 

I hang up the phone. 

Given that that's the closest thing I have to a child and Younger-Brother-Daniel swiped it when I didn't notice, that makes what he did kidnap. I'm not ashamed to say I cried a little. 

Talk about losing something with such an ironic title. 

...

I'm not talking to Younger-Brother-Daniel anymore. 

And it turns out... I'm alive! Huzzah!!

Wow, that has to be the longest break I've taken between these posts. Sorry about that. Since Thursday night however I have found my social calendar fully booked. This is, in large part, because of this man. 



This man is called Alwyn and in a complete moment of selfishness he has decided to kidnap his wife Lucy and emigrate to Australia...


Forever...


What a pigeon.

Problem is there are a lot of people who are kind of pissed that he is doing this because he's pretty awesome  and shouldn't be taking his awesomeness out the country... He could have at least waited until we had done the Olympics. 

But noooo, he doesn't care about making this country look good. Instead he would rather sod off to the other side of the world and make their country better. I mean come on! Don't they have enough? They already have Chris Lilly and Kylie Minogue. Taking Alwyn and Lucy as well is just greedy. 

So Thursday, Friday and part of Saturday has been summed up in champagne, posing for cameras, and singing them off (whilst also bitching about them for abandoning us).

And because I'm emotionally stunted I have been on top form with my sarcastic remarks and witty insults, which I'm sure he has interpreted as "Yeah, I'll miss you man." Because who wouldn't get that from: 

"Why are you still here?"

"Alwyn, it's 6:30pm. I've been stuck in the house all day, where the crap is my food?"

And of course

Me: Alwyn, fancy a drink?
Alwyn: Yeah, you got money?
Me: (Pulls out a twenty) Yeah, I'm set. 
Alwyn: Isn't that the twenty I gave you earlier?
Me: ... You're welcome. 

Because the man is in popular demand, one party wouldn't do.  No, he's having 5. The first two were last week and then there's another this Friday - I'm working on actually showing emotion for this one... Yeah, I know. I don't see it happening either. 

Tomorrow I'll tell you all about my Saturday! Yes my sudden social life us creeping me out too. 

Peace out my lovelies.