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.