Boxed in.

"Moving on up, moving on out, time to break free, notttthhhing can stop me."

What better way to start a blog than a quote from 90s pop sensation M People. Long live Heather Small!

My life is disapearing into box upon box and taped up with ugly coloured parcel tape. They should make parcel tape a nice colour. I'm usually a fan of brown things (apart from anything thats a result of digestion), but parcel tape brown is the worst sort of brown.


Just one week and four days untill i shall be living in my new house, already affectionally nick named 'the lego palace' due to it's resemblence to, well, a lego house. It's exciting. I'm excited.


I'm hoping moving out will spur me on to become more career hungry. Right now i'm quite happy diddling along at my 5 days a week run of the mill sales job. But in five years i hope to be wearing Chanel suits and working from home half the week, and commuting to Canary Wharf for the other half. Reading the paper on the train with an Americano, instead of playing Bejeweled on my mobile phone with a Dr Pepper Zero.

No smoking beyond this point.

I should really stop smoking. Day one.
I need to stop smoking. I don't even smoke that much, and i resent paying near enough £5 for a pack of something that makes me phlemy and possibly cancerous.
So day one has just gone by, and it went as follows.
7.30am Alarm goes off. It's that bloody piano ring tone on my phone i have set as my alarm clock. Alarm gets snoozed.
7.40am Snoozed.
7.50am Snoozed.
8.00am Snoozed.
8.10am Snoozed.
8.20am Snoozed.
8.30am Snoozed
8.40am Snoozed, but then the sudden panic sets in, as the realization dawns on me that i've snoozed 8 times and now have limited time to get ready. No time for ironing that crumbled blue stripey shirt which has been described as "public school". It's not public school, and it's from Next for God's sake. No one likes Next, and what the hell is a 'sake'?
Clothes on, hair as crumpled as my shirt, and there's always time to go round my eyes with a bit of eyeliner to at least make me look like my eyes are half open.
Out the door. No breakfast. Who has breakfast nowadays?
In the car. Oh God. In the car, by this point i'm usually opening a small box of smokes and trying to find a lighter in the glove box. There's never any gloves in the glove box. I handle it, the glove box confusion, and the lack of morning nicotine.

I park the car up at work. Get out of the car. I'M SO ANGRY BY THIS POINT.

Walking into the office, scowling A LOT, I'm greeted by "good mornings". I really hate that people are speaking to me. I make a noise in reply which resembles a pig going through the menopause.

I decide to substitue cigarettes for Dr Pepper. There's hardly any difference, it'll be fine, and probably cheaper. I'm convincing myself.

No, i'm still really furious, and now it's lunch time. My usuall next cigarette engagement. I want to go to Tescos because i want a scrap book. They want to go to Morrisons because they want a salad tray. We go to Morrisons. There are no scrap books in Morrisons. I buy Dr Pepper. And cigarettes.

They'll never find it! It's too obvious!

Hide & Seek.
It's all very well finding an amazing hiding place, but what happens if you've got nothing to hide? It almost makes a sporadic reaction to do something bad or rob someone. Not that robbing someone isn't bad. I don't rob people. I'm not into theft. But for crying out loud that hiding place is weighing on my mind! Maybe i should start doing drugs and keep my stash there. I'd love to have a stash. Not of drugs, but of something brilliant, like ...money.

Quote of the moment:
"The best thing about moving out of home, is that you get to do the grocery shopping. You can buy vinegar and stuff!"
-Reds.

Girls on film.
For a look at a condensed format of 3am club kicking out time, and to see me dramatically dodging death via car... watch my vid, innit.



Oooh a thunderstorm!!!

Toodles.

Sunday Sunday

Sundays.
Sundays are a bit rubbish. Mine often start like this mornings did, with a voluntary shift in the community run village shop, where i eat penny sweets and read the Sunday papers without buying them. Then it's home time, and my engagement with the Hollyoaks omnibus. I hate Hollyoaks. Everyone hates Hollyoaks, yet we'll all still have our Oaks sesh.
A benefit of still living at home in my Parent's attick, means the joys of a British Sunday Roast. Yesss, a great chunk of meat, crispy burnt on the outside and bloody and chewy in the middle, sliced and accompanied with a selection of boiled seasonal vegetables, and the love of everyone's life... roast potatoes. It'd all be rank if it weren't for soaking it all in gravy. Which, is basically meat flavoured liquid. Which, has now put me off it for good.
Moving back into town with the boys in 3 weeks, will result in no more roast dinners, but plenty of Hollyoaks.
I bought sofas yesterday. Yes - sofaS! TWO! It's like my odd childhood Sir Terence Conran-esque dream of having a Chesterfield has come too soon. I've been flung into adulthood with two pieces of furniture i shouldn't own untill i'm at least 32. Sofas are like pensions. Actually, sofas are nothing like pensions.

I must mention Archie. (Pictured). The little fella has deceased aged 6 after a couple of weeks of vomiting seed, and looking like he was a bird with a massive massive hangover. Goodbye mate, we'll miss your attempts at whistling the Adams Family theme tune, and you attacking yourself in your little heart shaped mirror.

I suppose i'll go enjoy the rest of my Sunday... basically sulking due to the fact it's back to work tomorrow. It's probably best i just get drunk. Yeah, i'll do that. Maybe not quite as much fun as drunk Thursday though.


TTFN! xxxxo

And so it began.

A whole new world. (Don't you DARE close your eyes) (Or i'll cut you).

Do you know what... I don't even know what a blog is. I've got sucked in to yet another internet fad. I love it. Hard.

I discovered within this strange little world of people writing about their lives, a small sense of normality in myself, which has now been completely and utterly erased via the account registering process.
BUT! I'm going to have myself a merry little time on this here website. Yip.

Sleep with one eye open.
Au Revoir,
Meelee. xxxo