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.

Can't cook, don't cook.

So....on Saturday night I was like, I'm going to make a Me cake, that is, a cake just for me. Don't panic, I don't have an eating disorder or anything. I've just never liked sharing, and it really ties in with one of my Resolutions to be more selfish.

We tend to think Resolutions should be about becoming a better person, or helping someone, but sometimes you've got to ask, 'What about me? What do I want?' And I wanted cake.

I set up a little baking station in front of the TV, so that I could continue to spend as much of my weekend as physically possible with Dexter. Did you know that it's really tricky to sieve flour from a height when you're watching one man kill another with a machete. It's like, I may be 25, but I'm still stumbling over these really important life lessons, such as 'Don't prepare food in the lounge,' and 'cracking an egg on the side of a bowl sometimes causes that bowl to be catapulted'.

Please learn from my mistakes.

ALSO, the scales were broken. But I thought to myself, is it possible that I'm such an experienced baker, I don't even need to measure things anymore? Could I be one of those people who simply feels their way around recipes. I mean I could start going around saying 'pukka' and write a freaking book. How exciting!!

Well it turns out that no, no, I can't be that person.

I'm so fucking distressed at what happened to my cake that I've put it in Roses tin, and left it on the hob.

Is that weird? So what if it's inedible? What harm will it do, to stay in that tin awhile pretending to be a great cake, that someone expertly created?

You know, the bits around the edges really aren't that bad, especially it you favour burnt toast.

THEN

I tried to change my duvet cover, and after like three times, I was so frustrated, and on top of the cake thing, and the fact that I'd only had 11 hours sleep, I allowed myself a brief, but satisfying cry.

DON'T JUDGE ME.

Remember what R.E.M said? Huh? Everybody hurts God dammit. Even really successful writers.

In fact, I'm pretty confident that they hurt more.

And to all you people who insist on putting your beautiful, culinary efforts on Facebook - NO ONE CARES.

You may think it makes you talented, but I think you'll find it's harder to leave a cake in the oven for two hours, and find it's still not cooked in the middle.

Eat that and like it.