Dear Boy Who May Or May Not Be A Tosser;

I find it impossible to concentrate in your complicated New Business Process meetings because I am distracted by the desire to kiss your face off.

Please start delegating these to less alluring colleagues.

Kind regards,

Sniggers McMockerson.

Propects update

1) e-browsed Trinity College Dublin. Pros: love the idea of Dublin, the idea of a university college, and the idea of their linguistics course. Cons: what's the weather like in Dublin?; not sure linguistics is a career.

2) King's College London. Pros: love the idea of London; incredibly prestigious college; have a dedicated War Studies department. Cons: not a millionaire so probably not suited to London; what would I do with an MA in War Studies (apart from stage a successful coup).

3) Warwick Uni. Pros: great uni; marvellously ostentatious prospectus; good-sounding Politics MA. Cons: uni is three light years from civilisation and I would go crazy without a Primark; departments likely to be small and intolerant of indiscretions; would have to live in Leamington Spa or similar.

Future space report:

I've decided to go back to uni once the hayfever season is finished. I'm going to do an MA!

I've wanted to leave my job since before I went to Thailand and then I got moved to project work which I couldn't leave and then I ran out of holiday so couldn't leave and then we don't get our bonus til June even though it's awarded in March and I'm not leaving without it because I worked hard and then my boss offered me a new area which isn't done til September and that's where I am now.

I've ordered prospectuses and am looking forward to spending evenings flicking through and choosing, just like I did with my undergrad course but this time I know what I'm doing and won't freak out halfway through the second year and panic because I'm not good enough, because I know I am good enough and because there is no second year, it's a one-year course.

But don't tell anyone because loose lips sink ships and I need my ship to stay afloat for a few more months!

I cut my own hair and row six kilometres a week!

I've tried to write an update three times this week but there are just so many obstacles.

I will do it at the weekend or maybe after the weekend because this weekend is busy, although not as busy as the one after it. I wanted to talk about how intensive foot moisturisers are really great for your winter hands and how I heard half a BSP set and how I turned my headlights off this morning for the first time since I got back from Thailand and I wanted to ask where are good hot action-filled holiday destinations for the poverty-stricken and say that I've got to finish my stockbudgets by 3pm tomorrow and it ain't looking good and I was going to mention how there's a boy at work I really like who doesn't know about me and another boy who likes me who would need to grow a beard and two foot three before I'd look at him and how mutual attraction is an almost impossible tautology.

But now it's late and I have to get up early to look at more spidery spreadsheets so it'll have to remain unsaid until After Leicester.

Photos all taken within five minutes of each other

so we would never forget the moment

for I dearly love to laugh

These days, I am trying to be an alright catch. It has been made clear to me that this is not always something I excel at, what with my olympic moodiness and ice-queenity and my sarcastic nature and my incredibly low tolerance for things that aren't my idea and those unobtainably high standards (no murderers rapists or people who know about electricity). It's an uphill battle.

I am trying to be more balanced. Usually I am 70% giddiness, 25% explosions and 5% mystery. I would like to be more 40% 30% 30%. I like mystery in a girl. Maybe boys like it too? Who knows!

The main catalyst for this dramatic volte face is the boy I mentioned about five entries ago. After breaking the news that he does have a personality and is fun to be around, I seem to have made a grievous error of judgement. It turns out that he is actually aloof and unfriendly when not absolutely plastered and I am not to expect familiarity or - lord preserve us! - joviality in the workplace. This is a shame and needless to say I am bemused as he was doing a great job of rebuilding bridges with OTC. I have smoothed my hurt feelings by making it known that he is a tosser after all.

So in the manner of all heartbroken females I am making a radical change to my life. I believe it is traditional to cut off all your hair but I don't feel like doing that this time, so I'm going to smile more instead, and bag me a Quaker.

Resolved on two points

Zoe and I have joined a gym. I've never been to a gym before and I find it to be a great source of entertainment. It does however prove that we are never to be allowed out in public together again.

We went for an induction two weeks ago and spent the whole time making sarcastic under-the-breath comments on everything from the instructor to the machines to our fellow gym-goers. If I had gone by myself I would have listened attentively and then done half an hour's worth of work-out.

As it happened, we soiled ourselves laughing at the many ways in which we could potentially fatally injure ourselves on the weighted machines and then spent fifteen minutes challening each other to the highest speed and incline-setting on the treadmills to see who would collapse and die first.

Luckily neither of us is horrendously obese, so the fact that we're not actually following our exercise plans isn't a matter of life or death. If I can just get rid of my flabby shoulders, I'll be a happy girl.

Last night

I had a fever (because I am sick) so I had a dream that was a terrifying cross between Harry Potter and I am Legend.

Voldemort was coming to get us so we had to evacuate Gryffindor Tower and go and sleep in a bathtub in a desolate house in the city.

We had to turn all the lights in the house off (because that's what attracts Voldemort, who only travels at night) but we started to panic because it wasn't my house and we couldn't find all the switches in time.

Then the cat leapt onto my bed and I nearly broke my neck jumping for my wand.

I'm not a political person

and I'm not PC except in that I try not to offend any one to their face.

But every morning Radio One news describes Barack Obama as the man "trying to become America's first black president".

Surely he is just trying to be president?

Weekend synopsis:

My fucking kitten has stolen my new belt. I know it. It's because I wouldn't give him any Whiskas Treats.

I'm calling in sick tomorrow so I can watch his every move and find out where he's stashed it.

Can't outsmart me this time, furball.



EDIT: found it. It was where I'd left it.

Project Mayhem

Today, before work, I went to the municipal tip to throw away the remains of the gross carpet that used to be in my hallway. Years of neglect had rendered it unfit for human senses.

The enormous sense of satisfaction I felt hurling three binliners of horror over the side of the swimming-pool sized skip to their timely death has to be experienced to be believed. I think everyone should take bulky things out of their houses to the tip, it is cathartic.

Then I drove away really fast because I thought someone might think that three huge rolled up carpets might contain bodies for disposal, and I didn't want to raise suspicion by hanging around, cackling.

NYE

COMPLICATIONS:
- cocktails and champagne made using borrowed, gifted or purloined ingredients
- orange tree
- indiscriminate kissing
- golden fleece
- reggae
- 4am barefoot walk home with one Dan
- not sick

RESOLUTIONS:
- Valentine's Day eating disorder
- no mistakes in zero eight