Piss Poor

Okay, so I know I haven't written in like, yeeeaaars.

BUT, fear not. Because I can quickly fill you in on the highlights of my new London lifestyle (Spoiler Alert - it's terribly glamorous).

-A Putney runner overtook me, in bright white shorts, who'd quite evidently

1) Shat himself
2) Done an explosive poo fart.

-I sat in my cereal. I was totes late for work.

-I met Les Dennis, and when I say met I mean my friend went, 'Les Dennis!' and he went, 'Hi there.', and I went, 'Who's Dennis?'

-I watched a drunk man in orange corduroy trousers piss himself on the tube.

-I lost the first 17 layers of my finger nails to a group of rather viscous Vietnamese women who all work in Salons titled after American states. My hands are a fucking joke. If it wasn't CONSTANTLY too hot, I'd wear gloves.

Jealous? I THOUGHT SO.

There are many things I prefer about London. Here are some of the things I totally, do not, prefer:

1) They steal your shoes. I'm not sure that this really needs anything context, but should you desire it - I left my shoes at work, and they got taken in 'The Great Shoe Theft of 13'. Apparently it was enforcing the clear desk policy, and you could pick your shoes up from them (albeit shamefaced over your dirty, dirty standards) the following day. Only mine were missing. I've been seeking compensation for 6 weeks. I WILL NOT GIVE UP. And once I discover who THEY actually are, I'm going to TAKE THEIR SHOES.

How do they even sleep at night?

I'll tell you - quite comfortably, in an expensive pair of Red or Dead boots. Fuckers.

As I only use one pair of shoes at work, I spent the following 3 weeks bringing in, and wearing, every pair of shoes I own. Only to discover that NONE of them fit. I'm not even toying with you for effect. I threw away ten pairs of unworn shoes.

They think they're teaching me a lesson, when it fact, they're unraveling a lifetime of misguided purchases.

2) The tubes are worse than the trains! To think I spent so many blogs whinging about being eye level with a crotch. I had no idea what horrors awaited me here. Highlights so far

-Someone completing their crossword on my  right shoulder blade
-Ginger Beard kicking at the floor of a packed carriage to achieve leg room, only to discover that a small, Japanese girl was down there.
-Crying two stops away from home because so many disgusting people have their skin against my skin.

I LOVE IT HERE.

WHAT A GREAT DECISION.

You're a loooooosserrrr

Hello British readers and Slovenian alike!

How the hell are you?

I'm great thanks, due to spending two nights 'sleeping' on a table masquerading as a mattress.

I've also found myself in a very undesirable position, for the first time in my young, splendid life. Eating alone. Every morning, I have to sit BY MYSELF and eat breakfast BY MYSELF, with a lot of suited business men who are also BY THEMSELVES.

It's fucking horrifying.

No one has prepared me for this situation.

My parents never said, 'Now Gemma, one day, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day, you might have to eat alone, and when that day arrives, what you do is.....'

THANKS PARENTS.

I take a magazine, but I'm not reading it. Instead I'm internally dying of self aware shame. I forget how to butter toast. Can I only butter toast when someone I know supervises me? Because I'm totally shit at in when unattended.

I've googled tips, but I really don't find the below particularly appealing:

I'm not going to smile at anyone else there. I'm not even going to acknowledge they exist. It's what everyone else does. Like we're in our own kitchens, eating seriously below par muesli alone.

Another piece of advice, is to take pictures of your food, so that other diners think you're a Food Critic.

Can you be a Food Critic of Kelloggs Cornflakes?

It really does feel like being single, with no friends. I have to keep reminding myself it's not true. But even the waitress talks to me like it's true.

She's all 'Coffee for one? Hmm? Toast for one?'

No, you know what, I'll have toast for three. YOU DICK.

Taking the abuse worldwide

I'm really sorry that I abandoned you for over a month.

It was me, not you.

Oh okay, it was totally you. You forced me to say it.

ALSO

Something tremendously exciting! I've had 25 hits from Slovenia! Gotta love those blog-reading Slovenians. To try and bond with my new fan base, I decided to do some research. The first thing I found was their official Tourist Board website.

Do you feel Slovenia and/or love?

I know I do, and regularly.

If you're not currently feeling it, don't panic, because, and I quote, 'The friendly, hospitable and attentive locals will guarantee you a pleasant stay. You can feel Slovenia.'

Is anyone else a little bit concerned by what they appear to be suggesting?

It's accompanied by this picture, which appears to be a demon child.

They go on to say that it's a great place for watching grapes ripen on the oldest vine in the world. At the moment, I'm a bit too busy for that level of commitment. But I urge you to give it a go!

Be careful though, because they then say you can hear tales of bears, which insinuates that there are bears.

I really do hope that my Slovenian chums now feel, that I have reached out, as if through their very screen, and grasped their culture with two, eager hands.

Please do let me know if this is the case.

Books are better than family.

In true Gemma style, I am currently reading a book about running, but not actually running. Which reminds me ever so much of fifteen books I own on Writing.

Is it possible, that my true talent has been brazenly staring at me, all these years, and I just never looked up?

I think it is.

My best skill (ooohh the suspense), is reading about things that other people just do!

How exciting!

I'm going to suggest to my boss, that instead of turning up to work from now on, it will simply suffice to skim through a few chapters detailing someone with a job.

And to that end, ask my boyfriend, if instead of investing time in our relationship, I can just borrow 'The Notebook' from the library. I'M JOKING - THE QUALITY OF OUR BOND PALES IN COMPARISON TO THEIRS.

The title of this blog is actually something I once said to my Mum, when asked to stop reading so much, and the cause of the only time I ever got grounded. Sharing this with you probably detracts from the crazy, troubled childhood you assumed I'd had. So I'd like to add that at one point (I think I was around 7), I only owned three ponies.

Would anyone like to buy a freezer? I'm serious. Let me know.

Linking in to the above sell - I'm moving to London, wahey! To live with strangers, wahey! Well, alright, Ginger Beard (bf) will be there, but we're practically strangers now. In fact, and I'm sure he won't mind me saying, the only thing we have in common is a desperate need to escape the suffocating noose of what once was our love.

Does anyone remember how to live with people you don't like?

It's just that there's going to be eight of us, and the chances of it being some kind of modern day Walton's are slim. I'm so prepared for battle, that I'm already pissed off over someone drinking my milk, and the the 2am drumming. Not to mention when I need the bathroom, and they're using the bathroom.

CAN YOU IMAGINE?

No, I don't think you can. Because unlike me, a student is something you were once, before you got a crap degree and extended your intake beyond beans. Not something you plan on regressing back to. But thanks to London. That's right, London, you fucking, extortionate, tube laden bastard, we can't afford to live anywhere but practically squashed into the armpit of another overdrawn, milk stealing commuter.

The only remote plus side, is how much material this less-than-ideal, shitter of a situation will offer up for my blog.

And I would probably be less in-advance angry, if I'd gone for a run, INSTEAD OF JUST READING ABOUT ONE.

Becoming Janet

Just in case some of you are missing Ginger Beard (My Geordie other half) as much as me, I thought I'd share this snippet of classic conversation. And I guess if you didn't know him before, you really will now.

Ginger Beard: So, at work once, they put all the women on assertiveness training. It can be really difficult for them not to feel intimidated in a male dominated environment.

Me: Really? That's great. Did it work?

Ginger Beard: Not really. They just went around being complete bitches for a few weeks.

There, feel better now?

I thought so.

ALSO

People keep phoning my house at all hours asking for Janet. I started to feel this incredible pressure to be Janet. They all seem so excited at the prospect of talking to her. It's like, she must be so charismatic to have this many friends!

I phoned Plusnet to complain about it.

David: Basically, you have to tell them to stop it.

Me: Okay.

David: You have to be all, 'this number has been recycled and reassigned to me, and this is unacceptable.'

Me: What if that doesn't work?

David: Then you phone the police and report it as harassment.

Me: Wow, okay, like a crime?

David. Yes, it is a crime. And then phone me back with the crime reference number and I will give you a new number.

So, what? I've practically got to perform a citizen's arrest to get some peace?

It seems easier to just take Janet on like a a second personality. I'm going to try out a few accents and intonations on the next ten or so calls. I'm bound to get her voice right eventually. I guess that in time I can model my second self on the information I get, but for now I'm going to be:

-Hooked on crack cocaine.
-A veterinarian
-An optimist

This morning I lost my balls.

Stranger: Hi, Janet?
Me: Yep.
Stranger: Is that you Janet?
Me: No, not it's not.

I think it's because Janet would never say 'Yep' like that. Tomorrow Janet will try saying, 'Fuck yeah.'

I can be your hero baby

So.....You know when you're watching Brucey strut his stuff in Die Hard, and you're all I wonder what that feels like, to be an action hero, to be forever battling life and death, to start every day knowing it could be your....

Well now you don't have to!

Wonder about it, I mean. Because now (how exciting is this!) you can just ask me.

That's right. Yours truly has experienced a moment which would not look out of place in Mission Impossible.

Can I firstly ask that you don't treat me any differently. I'm the same person, it's just that you'll now be immensely aware of my super human abilities.

SO

There I was, making my way to the station, staring at the back of this person's head going, Man? Woman? Is it? Could it be? Definitely a man, probably a Woman, Man's clothes, woman's hair...... when the lady walking ahead of the Woman/Man drops an unnoticed ticket on the floor.

Woman/Man, drags his/her ugly suitcase along, and stops to pick up the ticket. Meanwhile ticket dropper is through the barriers and hot footing it up some stairs.

Woman/Man gets to barrier, and frantically searches for his/her own ticket.

This is where I come in. Like Silvester Stallone. Like *insert well known tough man*, I was ready.

Firstly, I approached Woman/Man, 'Do you want me to chase her?'

Woman/Man was German! 'Please!'

Not the first time the Germans have fucked up.

I'M JOKING. I'M COMPLETELY JOKING.

I took the ticket. I ran through the barriers. I zigzagged up the stairs, around a stampede of rude commuters, ever chasing the brief flashes of her blue coat.

Across the second set of stairs I bellowed. 'STOP!' And everyone stopped. I have never been so respected.

She stopped.

I rushed over and presented the ticket, like the fitting glass slipper, and said 'It's a good day to die hard.' No, I didn't, don't be ridiculous. I said, 'You dropped your ticket.'

She said, 'Oh, right.' Took the ticket, and fucked off.

A hero who goes unrecognised, is still a hero.

This story, as well as exhibiting that the only thing I'm missing is a costume, also proves that I can do my own stunts.

My awesomeness - Coming to a cinema near you.

Okay, but really - I mean, where were her fucking manners? Was she dragged up? I think I'd of got the exact same response if I'd saved her baby moments before a train squashed it. She didn't have a baby, but you get the point. If she had had a baby I would've slapped it across the the face and said, 'For your mother's crimes against humanity.'

I'm genuinely gutted now that she wasn't with a child, which I could've assaulted.

Have a lovely day!

Rage against the....anything.

I've still got cake left!

Just in case you wanted some. Let me know.

ALSO

I was on the train the other day, and there were two thick girls in the aisle.

I know that sounds harsh, but wait for it.

Me: Would you both mind moving there (two empty seats) so I can get past.

*Blank stares*

Me: It's just that I can't get to my seat.

One of them moves out the way, one of them stays where she is.

Me: If this is going to work, it will require both of you to do that.

THEN, and I shit you not, the one girl who'd moved out of the way, shifts back into the aisle.

Me: The initial problem stands.

Girl one: But I did what you asked!

Me: Yes, but BOTH OF YOU NEED TO GO. AT THE SAME TIME.

It's the 5:07pm train between Manchester and Leeds. I've had a bad day. I've got an audience.

Girl one: I don't get it.

Me: For fuck's sake. (Old people in carriage gasp).

And then I basically pushed them into the space, because as it turns out I have a very Nottingham temper. For anyone who doesn't know Nottingham that well, people who spend a lot of time there stick loyally to the below:

-Swearing is always necessary, the more the merrier.
- If there's no path through a crowd, you fucking make a path (sorry, I'm props back in my Midlands mentality right now).
-Someone's just been shot? Tell me something I don't know.

It's like that time I went swimming, and this girl ignored the anti-clockwise lane system, and I splashed water in her face. Or when this other girl got too close to me at a Kate Nash concert and I pushed her over. Or when.....I think you get it.

Maybe I have some serious anger issues. Does anyone know a really great, Leeds-based therapist, so I can talk my issues through. I'm pretty sure it all boils down to one incident in my childhood, when my Dad bought be a bike and it wasn't anywhere near the colour I'd specified.

You have no idea about what I had to put up with.

BYE.