99 in the Shade

It's like 2 degrees in London right now. It's cloudy and overcast and dismal. Ok, maybe it's not 2 degrees, but it's not warm. Monday I leave for what I am calling "GirlFriday does the Middle East" On the itinerary, Dubai, Doha and Abu Dhabi. All business of course. So I checked the weather today. It's meant to be 41 in Dubai next week. For you Fahrenheit folks, that's about 103 degrees. From what I understand Irish people cease to function at about 30 but can usually be cajoled to at least sit by the sea if there are drinks involved. Sure they whinge about the heat whilst getting plastered and sun burnt, but it's a raging good time. There will be no beach, no drink and no fun for me. I'm not Irish, but I am pretty sure I am going to have to cajole myself to function, I just don't know how yet. Any suggestions?

Tiny Bubbles

Friday night I met the girls for a cheeky tipple apres work. Unlike the Girl I used to be, working in London, staying out till all hours on school nights, showing up to work wondering if I was drunk still (this was only a few times, but it did happen), the Old Maid Me was only up for a couple and then it was home. Home to take away, comfy jammies and a boy who makes my heart flutter. My skirt was tugged and tugged to stay for a couple more, but this old Girl was tired and retired before things got messy. And messy they did get apparently. But that's neither here nor there. Saturday morning I packed NicB off to the cricket and packed myself off to be tortured (read: power pilates) with one of the mates from the night before. Indeed she reckons she may have still been drunk whilst being pulled and yanked from limb to limb. Pah, I thought in that smug way that uppity Aries do, glad those days are over for me.


Upon leaving pilates, I received a text from that hunky man of mine requesting my presence at the Cricket. It was in a box, so I figured, even if it's raining, how bad can it be. I was however encouraged to hurry as I was already very late. In my haste I forgot to eat. Well forgot isn't exactly accurate, it's all I could think about. Nothing suitably quick in sight left me with no option but to forgo. I rationed that spending the time to look good was more important then sustenance. Uh huh, yeah good call. You can probably already see where this is going. Fast forward 5 hours. The match has been rained out, but in our comfy little box with a bottomless glass of champagne, I didn't even notice. I was very well behaved in front of all NicB's work people though and brother and boss. No really, I was. It wasn't until everyone had dispersed that I really let go. Took my shoes off and walked home barefoot. I live fairly close to Lords, in a clean part of London, so this isn't THAT bad, but still very unlike me. Once in my flat, I lunged for the sofa and announced that it was bed time. It was 7:30. NicB, bless, ran me a bath and gently deposited me in said bath. At which point I began a regression to the age of 5 that took all of 3 minutes. Whilst splashing about I asked for a rubber ducky. I don't remember much more, except that I woke up, starkers with very mad hair at about 4:00am.


Payback is a bitch. When will I learn to keep my smugness to myself.

Say No More

Saturday I signed up for this personal training power pilates thing with a mate in a desperate attempt to be bikini ready before my Italy trip with NicB next month. Whilst filling out the forms which waive the company of all responsibility when you kill yourself or the trainer kills you (during one of many movements where your feet and hands are tied to opposite ends of a machine and the trainer is gleefully pulling your legs into an abnormal V shape), my mate turned to me and said, "who is your in case of emergency?" You, I said. Me? Yes you, your sister is a doctor, so I figured you could step up if I was in 100 pieces. Were you planning on telling me this, she says. I just told you didn't I? Look of utter indifference from her, followed by, "Well, you know I would tell them to pull the plug, you have a good jewellery collection even though your shoes are too big for me."

Fast forward to Tuesday night when NicB and I are celebrating his passing all these exams he's been doing lately at a new Italian restaurant in my hood. In the Italian mode we started jabbering about our trip and how excited we were. I promised not to work on the trip, but we decided that I had to bring my phone as it has GPS etc. NicB said he wouldn't be bringing his, but that we should put his parents/brothers numbers in my phone. In jest he laughed and said, wouldn't that be awful if the first conversation you had with my mum was to tell her I was dead? Uh huh, yeah, hillarious. Anyway, he then said the 6 words that I have waited my whole life to hear. You may laugh, but it's true. He may as well skip the whole ring/proposal thing, becuase this was way more important to me:

"I should be your emergency contact"

If my life were a movie, the poignant line would be: You had me at I should be your emergency contact.

Judgement Day

I am judgemental, it's true. There, I said it. I can't remember what show I saw it on (Maybe SATC) but there was this line when one of the women said, we judge, it's what we do. Lest ye be dismayed, know (if you don't have first hand knowledge) that magnifying glass with which I scrutinize the world is 5x stronger when turned it on myself. Oh yes, I am my own worst critic. Neverthless, yesterday I had a few observations (magnifying glass firmly in place) that I noted down and thought I would share.

• Does anyone else find it odd that so many people do not seem to dress for their surroundings? I know I had a go a couple weeks back re: Casual Friday's, so my angst is well documented. This, however, goes beyond dressing for work into dressing for...oh how do you say it, life? Yesterday, our fine city was the recipient of this lovely thing called sun and its friend, warmth. Now sun and warmth don't visit Blighty all that often, so I can kind of excuse people for not having the best fashion sense when they do. However, I reckon it's only common sense to NOT wear a cashmere jumper with a long sleeved collared blouse underneath when temperatures reach 25. This was also the person who was whinging that it was hot on the train. Blimey luv, take a look outside before you get dressed next time. The man next to her was wearing a puffer. Sheesh. I don't know which is worse, the people who come to work in a wife beater and mini denim skirt because presumably these are the only items of clothing they own for warm weather, or the folks dressed for Antarctica


• What's with the shouting that goes on when people are talking to one another in public surrounded by a bunch of quiet people. Do you not know that you are shouting? Or are you so self involved that you think everyone else wants to hear you and your friend banter back and forth about the events that led to you finally finding one another after hours of trying to connect. "And then, I was like, a'right, so now what" "yeah mate and that was when you called right!" "yeah, and I was all, you a'right! and you were like no mate, I'm lost" "Right mate and then I was like, I'm lost too like, where are you lost?" "a'right, yeah, I was lost and so were you. Where were you lost?" "Mate I don't know, I was lost like, right?" I kid you not when I say that if you could even call this a conversation, it continued on a very quiet bus for a good 20 minutes. In case you're in suspense, I'll tell you how the story ends, they remained lost and realised they were standing at the same place the whole time after 2 hours


• Men: Has the hoot, holler, whistle and suck tactic of attracting a woman's attention ever actually worked for you? I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I'm doubtful you are pulling any quality tail with those methods. Yet, you continue. I'll let you in on a little secret about us women, one comment, whistle, up and down look can be a bit flattering. A 30 second stream of calamity in a public place (ie Street, Club, Train, Restaurant, Bar) is embarrassing and will get you nowhere with anyone you would want to take home. Be warned what other things you might pick up if you pull a bird in this manner. I'm just saying


• Personal hygiene is even more important when it's warm out. 'Nough said


• Washing anything that you may consume in public toilets is disgusting. Washing your fruit and then eating it in the toilets is even more appalling. Worse still is walking out and offering that same toilet fruit to your colleagues. I am not taking the piss BTW, this really did happen. I saw the whole thing

This edition of judgement day was brought to you by the letter N. N is for Negative Nancy.

Mixing Business and Pleasure

YUCK. Honestly, nearly 24 hours after the incidents and all I can say is YUCK. Last night I attended a black tie awards ceremony at the bequest of my employer. I did it for my job, my career, nay some may say the call of duty, but not by choice. If you aren't in a schmoozy industry, then you may not understand when I say this, but those things are not really "fun." They should be. There's good food, lots of wine and typically a really great band or singer. Plus everyone gets dressed up and it's nice to see people outside of work. But you see, it's still work for me. In PR, you are NEVER "off." You are permanently upholding the corporate reputation of whoever pays your bills (clients if you are agency side, mothership if you are in house) whilst those around you crumble like houses built of sand the moment the champagne is corked. And don't get me started on some peoples interpretation of Black Tie. If I did open letters like Cherry, I'd have one for someone last night: Dear woman whose hoo hoo I could see due to her dress being more "tie me up and spank me" then "black tie". Anyway, as usual, I digress.

I was sat next to a very nice (and I am sure well intentioned) journo who I happily chatted shop and more with all through dinner. Despite the very overt offers he made as to marrying me if I were single (bless) throughout the lovely 3 course meal, I couldn't help but notice one of our very senior VP's practically snogging his PA at the table just directly in my eye line. The evening wore on and the wine took effect and the act hit the stage. This was the tipping point. The point when things happen that you just can't take back. For snuggles at the next table it took the form of calling in a favour to get a room by the hour at this rather posh hotel. Cept, they couldn't seem to wait till they got to the room and proceeded to very publicly display their apparent admiration for each other. Did I mention they are married? TO OTHER PEOPLE. My tipping point was the extended hand of above mentioned bloke who declared he wanted to "take things to the next level." This happens to me quite often at these types of things and I am quite sure it's for 2 reasons:

1. I am actually a decent person who enjoys conversation with others, especially those involving: cooking, travel, wine, food, art, theatre. I think this often gets misinterpreted as flirting as I can apparently be too nice.

2. Because I would never ever flirt whilst working (call me uptight) I tend to stay off the booze for the most part at these functions. Don't get me wrong, I have some wine, but I am careful not to get pissed. Others however get very pissed and then what could have been misinterpreted as flirting becomes a full blown invitation to "get closer."

Lucky for me I have an agency now and shot the girls a look so fierce they knew they had to follow us to the dance floor and quickly rescue me. As for the PDA couple, I can't say the outcome was so rosy. As I have said before, my company is VERY corporate, their new found fondness for each others bodies was not well received.

May Day

Yesterday was polling day in the UK as the country assembled to vote on local issues, local candidates and city reforms. I received my mail in ballot from the US last Friday. My state is one of the last to vote in the primaries which means that we don't really end up counting for much as most of the votes have pretty much decided as to what candidate each party will choose for the November ballot. Still, if I ever want to move back to America (the results of this election pending) I can't in all good conscience repatriate into a government which I had no hand in choosing. I mean that is after all why I left. Among the nearly 50% of Americans whose votes were ignored in 2004, I resigned myself to another 4 years of the Bush administration. I'll be damned, I thought, if I am going to wait it out here. That's me off to London and my "I'm from a blue state" mantra falling on deaf ears ever since. Fast forward nearly 4 years and I feel obligated to participate, but feel a strange disconnect from the US at the same time. Given the absolute state of chaos surrounding the elections there, it's probably a good thing, but never the less odd to be voting on issues and people that feel foreign. So I did what any good London Lass would and voted along with the country people of my current residence choosing yesterday to fill out my ballot.

The election here showed labour having its worst election in a generation (40 years by some news source counts) and mine proved a test in creativity. I have a theory. I don't think people who have been expats for more then a certain amount of time (maybe 2 years) should vote in local elections. Unless those people work for a company from the country which they hail, work for the government or aren't really living in the country where they reside (tax, health care, job. primary residence etc). I am ashamed to admit it, but I actually voted for one Senatorial candidate because he was called after I beer that I am keen on and a Mayoral candidate because his picture on line was rather fetching. I tried, I really did. I was even reading the online voters guide whilst I coloured in the little bubbles with a #2 pencil. Frankly, I don't care if the property tax brackets change in county X or if parking for more then 2 hours in county Y results in larger fines. All I cared about were the presidential candidates, but I didn't feel like I could leave the others blank.

After popping that envelope in the mail yesterday I am sat wondering if I should have skipped it all together and hoped for the best.

I am old

Contrary to popular belief (likely due to my juvenile behaviour and very young boyfriend) I think I may be getting old. Without further ado, I present you with some recent evidence to support this suspicion. Laugh if you will, but this is serious stuff people.

1. 1. I am starting to get my boyfriends mixed up. Let me be clear when I say "boyfriends" plural. I am no floosie, I have only had 3 of what I would call a "boyfriend" in the last 5 years. I takes a lot for me to refer to someone as a BF and typically there is some awkward social situation that ends in tears (theirs not mine) where I am forced to acquiesce. The other night NicB pulled a film out of his rucksack that he had borrowed from a mate. Hey, I wanna see this, it looks good. Yeah, I said, saw it, don't you remember? I went through that whole WWII phase and saw all the Hitler documentaries? Blank look from him. Uh huh, I daftly carried on, we watched that German one you have, then we watched the Dutch one then.....now I started to realise it wasn't him at all, it was someone else. Oh well anyway, uh huh, it's good. NicB stared at me in disbelief and then said, Girl, you clearly have me confused with your other boyfriend. Ha Ha I laughed, at least I got rid of him the other day. Cringe


2. I have begun to wear flats 1 day a week and almost all weekend except when I go out. I am more upset about this then the above misstep


3. Anyone born in the 80's seems young to me. The reality is some of them are 28 already (and that's older then NicB)


4. A friend called for a goss last night and asked if she had woke me up, it wasn't even 10. I lied and said no, I was reading. My grandmother is the only person I know who reads with the lights out and her eye mask pulled down


5. I wake up every morning at the same time, even if it's Saturday. This has been going on for about 4 months. It's infuriating


6. I am contributing more to my pension plan then I used to budget for food every month and only about a third of what I used to budget for booze


7. Today I am wearing tights (f'ing England, I tell you, it's bloody raining and cold on 1 May) and they have that extra support stuff on top. I'm not even ashamed


8. My big plans for the bank holiday weekend include: park, cinema,baking, shopping and lunch. Watch out, I'm out of control!


9. I took 2 naps last weekend. EACH DAY, not in total


10. I was a bit melancholy on Sunday and spent the day baking to cheer myself up. That's not the scary bit, the scary bit is, it worked