Rule No.31: There is always a reason why people are staring at you...

OMG I AM SO TIRED.

I came back from Italy at 7pm on Sunday to my newly painted bedroom, which was completely empty...I didn't even have curtains.

By 11.30pm it looked like this (I don't think I did too badly)...

Two days later it looked like this...

OK, that's shameful, but I haven't got home until 10pm for the past two nights and now it's midnight and I'm writing this. I NEED SLEEP.

Monday was actually a pretty good day apart from the mild depression when waking up to no Italian sunshine and pretty mountains. Oh, and my usual wind incident happened... Just as I was walking into my office my skirt completely blew up revealing my whole bum to the guy behind me, which unfortunately for me was a guy that worked on Men's Health who then got into the same lift as me. The phrase 'awkward silence' doesn't even come close to describing the situation. I don't think I have ever stared at my feet so much in my life.

After eating enough pasta in the past week to feed ten rugby teams for an entire year, I have decided I am going on a diet. I have read up about eating like a Scandinavian and I think I could do that. However, I couldn't find rye bread in my local Sainsbury's and thought soda bread would be the same. Apparently I was wrong. However, my lunch did look pretty healthy today.

I did consume a cookie and a bit of Toblerone after, but that's not the point.I still had healthy stuff beforehand.

I had a meeting in the afternoon, where as usual I left the office panicking that I was going to be late. I got so hot from rushing to the meeting that by the time I got to the offices my face looked like someone had squirted me with a water gun.

I couldn't help but notice that people were staring at me during my trek to the meeting. However, in my mad panic I didn't think to wonder why. It wasn't until I reached the reception desk at the offices that I thought to check what I looked like. Oh dear. My dress had unbuttoned down to belly button and my whole bra was on display to the world. Luckily, I was wearing a nice bra and not one of the 'should be white, but is grey and should never be seen' ones.

After my meeting I got a little lost...Note to self, always go the way you came and use breadcrumbs to guide you.

Although, getting lost did mean I got to see my mate Paul.

 I love Paul.

I'm sure you will have all been aware of the One Direction premiere last night. I'm not going to lie, I wish I had been there. My friend Jade got to go and she even got papped with Simon Cowell (kinda). She's the one with the massive grin.

If that was me (and I had some how been lucky enough to get a ticket) I would have probably fallen over just as the photo had been taken, so I think Jade did pretty well here.

I assure you though, if I had been there I would have NOT looked like the below. I mean, I love 1D, but come on this is just silly...

I think the only time I cried like that was when I was ridiculously hungover and the pub had ran out of pie & mash.

I'll leave you with the thought of my face at that current time.

x

Rule No. 17: Eating crisps attract men

GUESS WHAT!!! My ukulele arrived! I love it. It makes me look so Hawaiian.

I'm going to wear the flowers every time I play. Well, it would be ridiculous not to wouldn't it? Like Elton John without his glasses.

I will start my Youtube tutorials tomorrow so hopefully I'll be able to upload a short video of me playing by the end of the week. Don't expect anything good, it will probably just be a video of me playing a few chords (I say this like I know what a chord is)...

I've got some pretty funny stuff to tell you, but I'm afraid it's going to have to wait until tomorrow as I need to rush off soon to do some work. Don't hate me.

I'll tell you the crisp story for now...

On the way to my fire poi lesson this evening I was feeling pretty hungry as I hadn't eaten much of my lunch, so I stopped off at a newsagents. A man in the shop who was at least 40 years old greeted me with "hello beautiful, nice smile. Do you want to meet again?".  With a nervous laughter I said, "no thank you" and paid for my crisps and walked out of the shop. Then, just as I walked out a car slowed down and a man blew a kiss at me. I ignored it, opened my crisps and started eating them (they were Frazzles, if you were interested). A guy walking past me then said "yeaa guuurl looking fiiiine" and made a kissing noise. As a matter of fact, I wasn't looking fine at all, I had just put a handful of crisps into my mouth. THEN a car STOPPED and two guys shouted out of the window "hey sexy girl"...

Now I'm pretty sure my skirt wasn't tucked into my pants or anything like that, and I definitely wasn't looking 'sexy' or 'fine'. I had been sitting at my desk all day being stressed, and because I got rained on this morning I looked a bit like Krusty the clown. Therefore, I can conclude that men are attracted to women eating crisps. Well they are in Brixton anyway.

On a different note, what were these guys actually expecting? I wasn't exactly going to turn round and be like "hello baby" and make kissing noises back. Well, I suppose I could, but that would just be weird.

Tomorrow is going to be a big post, I can feel it.

Night x

Rule No.16: Always remember to brush your teeth

It's not the best start to a Monday morning when the fire alarm goes off. The whole office did the 'do you think it's real? Let's just stay at our desks for a few minutes to see' thing. It only occurred to me as I slowly picked up my phone and dragged my feet towards the nearest fire exit that 'sh*****t, I'm the department fire warden'. I then of course made sure that everyone had left the department floor before I made an escape. I would like to say it's a rather heroic job, I could have saved lives (if it wasn't a drill).

When I finally got outside there was a big cheer and everyone praised me for my bravery. I wish. My team laughed at me. Apparently they are getting a little concerned that I have some kind of 'fire fetish'. I suppose not everyone learns fire poi and volunteers to be the work fire warden. I don't think they have anything to worry about until I start making fires at my desk. Although, I have become a little addicted to lighting the spray from an orange peel when you squeeze it really hard. I recently learnt the trick at a cocktail making masterclass. I'm not very good.

We ended up standing outside for about 10 minutes whilst all of our floors were checked for any signs of fire. Obviously we all chatted amongst ourselves (standing in silence would just have been weird). However, I probably shouldn't have talked to anyone. I stupidly forgot to brush my teeth this morning and I hadn't had a drink either. I felt disgusting. I hate that whole awkward trying to cover your mouth with your hand, taking a little step backward so you're not too close to the other person thing. Lesson learnt.

Tonight I met up with a couple of girls from home that were in London for the day. We went to Wahaca and stuffed our faces with mexican food. As usual we ordered too much so I challenged Sinead to Man Vs Food. As you can see from the picture, it didn't go too well.

We still ordered dessert.

Random thought...on my way home I noticed a sign for a missing cat. At first I felt sorry for the cat, and then sorry for the owners. However, it then dawned on me...why would you print a black and white picture of your cat? Surely that doesn't make people instantly recognise it? Or, maybe because I don't like cats I find it harder to notice the difference between them. But, surely a black and white photo doesn't tell you what colour the cat actually is? I wouldn't look at and go "oooh yeaaa that's the ginger cat I saw this morning". Therefore, I have decided that the owner is either very stupid, lazy or doesn't actually care that it's missing. Either that or I'm just a narrow minded cat hater.

Night x 

Rule No.12: Don't open your bedroom window when you're just wearing pants

I need to stop writing this blog so late at night, because the next day I read it and I've made so many grammatical errors, and possibly worse...SPELLING ERRORS. I've only just realised that I spelt 'disgusting' with a 'c' TWICE yesterday. How embarrassing. I've now made the changes... Please don't judge me.

Today has been a hard day. It started off well as I had a client breakfast in a lovely place in High Street Kensington called Aubaine. I love the two guys I met up with too, there's always a stream of constant banter. I love banter. However, having the morning out of the office meant I had a lot of catching up to do when I got back, and the work load just seemed to keep piling up. Therefore, I worked through lunch to try and get it back down again, but I was still not getting anywhere. Also, the fact I consumed a 'wholesome pot' for lunch did not help the situation, it was so bland it was like eating wet flour, and it made me feel very sad inside. Say that...my 4 O'clock meeting was very nice. I went to the Dean Street Townhouse (Johnny Marr was there when I walked in), and had the best scotch egg EVER. We then ordered three lots of scones, where we were only expecting three scones to arrive, but no, we got nine...NINE! We only managed one each, even though they were warm and ridiculously good. (Yes I know the diet is going terribly, but I haven't had dinner tonight. Well, except for the mouldy piece of toast that I'm currently nibbling on - FYI I've nibbled around the mould).

The scones:

I suppose my day doesn't sound too bad, but I didn't get back from my meeting until 7pm, and so I didn't leave the office to go home until 8.45pm. Ergh.

Going back to this morning, it finally hit me that I seriously need to stop opening my window when I'm not dressed. It's been so hot the past few weeks, and without a fan or air conditioning in my room I've been having to sleep in just my pants, sprawled across my bed with no duvet on. This morning I woke up a sweaty mess and went straight to open the window. A routine I've carried out for the past few weeks. However, it needs to stop. I need to put clothes on before I go to the window.

See the thing is, not only is my window one of the old fashioned ones that you have to push up to open (it's a more strenuous task and I have to squat to do it), but it overlooks the post office. Therefore, every morning there is a queue of people outside. I like to say they're my  fans (or they could just be a fan of picking up their parcels). The queue can range from 1 - 50 people, luckily today it was only six. But, it's safe to say they've probably all seen my breasts. Especially that man in the green jumper. Pervert.

Right, I'm off to bed. I'm going to attempt to post my blog earlier tomorrow...hopefully.

Night x