Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Why thy loves himself a little too much

Let's face it. I work in a really wanky industry. Up until now I've been pretty lucky with tosser levels registering low. Extremely low in fact. Now, let's not get confused with maroon jumper dude and yes, he still bugs me. Let's just recap why. Rather than him being a wanker as such, he's just a knob. It's the fact he stares at me blankly when I fake smile at him and say 'hey' when crossing paths (I now just stare him out - soooooo much more satisfying), his gross maroon cable knit jumper, his Bevis-like snigger and his pondering into the air (puh-lease). Even his purchases of Doritos every lunch bugs me. Ok, ok, that one is a bit petty, but I think it's the combination of too many red colours (head, jumper and chip packet) that messes with my senses.

So, back to the real tosser. He can't go five minutes without some kind of self gratification. For example, and I'm not exaggerating, well, he might be, and I quote word for word; 'I can't not do brilliant work'. He even described himself as being 'the radar' in advertising. If he's the radar, I'm definitely the perforated paper (the bit you throw away)when you get a stats print out. I don't quite know what that means, but I liked the analogy. It's hanging out with people like him that make me realise I'm never going to go far doing this job. Well, my lack of enthusiasm may be a good indication, but I know I'm certainly never work at one of the grand dame agencies. I think I'd probably have to start wearing a beret, change my name just V and maybe up my perforated paper analogy to at least blip on the radar status. The dude isn't that bad, but I work in a fairly egoless place, and when you get exposed to one, it's like staring at the water when it's a sunny day and you've forgotten your sunglasses.

Ugh, I need some direction. No, I need to be paid to faff.

Also, I put together my list of future travel places today. It's rather extensive. It means a lot of zigzagging around countries. It also means finding a lot more money. I like how I use the word 'find' like I have a chest full of money under my bed. Perhaps 'earn' would be better. Or 'win the lottery'. I'll share my list when it's more complete.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

It's nice having a blog but...

where do you draw the line in regards to who you tell about it? For example, I had one of those scary big brother moments today at work. Hypothetically speaking I wanted to download a certain music program onto my work computer. Now, working in a slightly more strict/professional organisation than my last place, such 'illegal' (and I use that term loosely) aren't allowed. So I decided to be tricky and pretended I wanted to know my admin password for updating software. Yea, that backfired and now I have 50 new programs I don't want, but the point of this story is that IT logged onto my computer and started fiddling around this stuff, that also included spotting the music program I had tried to download. In true Vanessa 'I can't lie' style, I started stumbling over my words when he questioned me. His line of questioning, by the way, was using my cursor to circle it in a disapproving matter while we were on the phone. He couldn't even bring himself to say the name of the program aloud. Plus, I had written my entry about mental health day on one of my work word docs and realised that was on my desktop. Whoops. Now, this story is slightly long winded, but the point of it is, when you want to do tricky things, or in my blogs instance talks about chucking sickies or talking about people who you work with who tend to wear maroon jumpers and 'ponder' a lot, it kind of limits who you give it to. Especially when people ask.

Maybe I've just answered my question, don't let people I work with see my blog.

Now, that I've solved my own dilemma, I should really get my own talk show.

In other news, I had a work thing last night that involved me being wrestled over a sofa by a 45 kilo chav chick from Essex and then beer poured all over me. The thing about London is, you go hard and then you go home. You had to make that vital decision, do I catch the last tube home or do I keep going and hope to make it home. With my sense of direction and tendency to walk with my keys in my hand ready to stab (I have recently found out this is not an effective form of self defense) I choose the tube option.

In food news a really good restaurant thingy has opened up near work:

I had it for lunch yesterday and today. Reasons why? Good food - tick and it appealed to by Asian 'I seek any good bargain' side as the food was all half price. Yesterday chili con carne (people here do not know how to pronounce this dish) and today, Leon Gobi followed by a Twix. Then I had a brownie explosion and then hot chips before going to see one of my favourite movies of all time. Yes, I have something to contribute to my stark/non existent favourite movies list; The Darjeeling Limited.

Ok, I'm tired. Bye.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Friggin domestic goddess

I would just you all to know that I made an amazing curry thing the other night. Flatties even said it 'smelt good'. Yea, go me. I even put fresh coriander in it. Did you hear that? Fresh. Oh, and garemasala or however you spell it. Perhaps a little too much though as someone at work today said whatever was in the microwave (my lunch) smelt like a mince pie. However, I'm sure it was probably the best non mince pie they had ever smelt.

That's it.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

I do not earn enough money

So today was mental health day. Well, my mental health day. It's amazing what people get up to while you're at work. Like do lunch. Go shopping. Not get told that a line in your copy sounds too much like a song? What the? And you do you know what the greatest thing is about living in London? When you take a sickie, you'd be pretty unlucky to bump into someone you work with.

So today I had a bit of a sleep in, did my washing, took it to the laundromat (hello new soft Primark sheets), met Skinner for lunch....have I mentioned my favourite lunch place in London? Food for Thought. Best bread EVER. Seriously, it's so good. Soft on the inside and so crunchy on the outside. It's almost the equivalent of the satisfying taste of the crunchy outer of a freshly baked brownie, mmmm, brownie. Anyway, so today's flavour was onion, not as good as walnut and sage, but still, oh so satisfying. Where was I? Oh yes, lunch. So then after debating whether we should get a brownie we decided we would wait for afternoon tea, but then I realised that Ben's Cookies was just near where we were, and seriously, who can resist a biscuit with melted chocolate on the inside? Not me, that's for sure. So we made a pit stop there on the way to the British Museum where we were going to check out the Terracotta Warriors. Despite having the conversation as to whether we should book, we didn't and discovered that following through on conversations about booking for exhibitions in London is smart. We unfortunately were not. So we settled for mummies and what not, and then decided the V&A would be a better bet.

On the way we stopped at Harrods for what should have been the best hot chocolate ever, especially seeing as though it was £5, but it was, unfortunately, crap. We got over this slight blip in an otherwise good food day by walking through Harrods food court, and then headed to the V&A. After looking around there for a bit and seeing a really old and big Persian rug (yes, this is the only thing which really stands out from the visit) I went to the gym and then off to Kate and Jonathon’s for a roast dinner and biscuits (provided by yours truly). Why work?

Thursday, November 15, 2007

New house, frozen nose. We can't have it all.

Stubborness is a curse. It causes you to do stupid things like decide it’s a good idea to move house in London on your own. Actually, moving house on your own is a stupid idea no matter what the location. Especially when it doesn’t involve a car. So instead of accepting the help of others, I moved myself, dragging the masses of crap I’ve accumulated over the last 7 months down the street to my new abode (which is awesome by the way).

Do you know what is also a curse? The cold. The kind of cold that freezes your nose at night and causes you to lie there with your duvet over your head, but with a little peep hole so you have fresh air. This whole process is difficult to perfect and uncomfortable. I know this won’t make a lot of sense to some of you, but the cold here chills your bones. And it’s not even winter. Prepare yourself for more complaining. On the upside, my new mattress is a lot more comfortable. So much so, I can roll over and not have springs stab me in the back. Woohoo! I’m liking my new housemates. I feel I can talk about midgets freely without feeling like I am going to be judged. Especially seeing as though there is a blow up doll in our kitchen.

In other news, I’ve bit the bullet and bought a zone 3 travelcard. I’ve been fooling myself for the last 7 months that I live in zone 2, when in fact, I don’t. And it’s too cold to be playing ‘I live in zone 2’ games i.e walking 20minutes. So now, it’s more of a 5 minute walk, which I think is worth the extra £5 a week.

This weekend is going to be jam packed again. Ok, so when is it not. But I may even get to squeeze in some tv!! Yay! Hello mind numbing goodness. I’m worried I’m going to have to start cooking at my new house. The guys were cooking something with prawns last night which looked really good. It was making me feel inadequate and I am more of an ‘eater’ than a ‘creator’. I may have to bring out the culinary skills. Wa-cha! (that was culinary karate).

Friday, November 09, 2007

The feet have touchdown

So when it rains, it pours, and this is definitely the case with the house situation.

During the week there were various developments starting with:

- me having a record breaking week in flat visitation
- a guy from work offering me a room at his flat
- me meeting a potential new houseshare group and being successfully 'chosen'
- seeing more houses for backup

So as a result, I accepted the new flatshare after being labeled a chosen one. However, there were a few problems. Firstly, it wasn't furnished, I couldn't move in for a month and I didn't really like the girl. Yes, slightly big problems, but I was desperate and said yes anyway. So last night I went and saw the house with these people. It was nice, in Angel (beautiful area in North London) and it would have ended up being reasonably cheap because one of the guys' partner was going to move down next year. However, it still left the problem of it being unfurnished and me being homeless for a month. So, I arranged back up flat visits later that night. The first was a house just down the road from where I live now. I went and met the flatties and we all hit it off immediately. The house was nice, fully furnished, I could move in straight away and it even comes with a TV!! I stayed for a cup of tea - they are all english so my tea consumption is going to rise even more. I didn't even go to the other place I had arranged to visit after because by the time I walked in my front door I had a message asking me to move in! So today I let the other people know I wasn't going to move in, which was incidentally lucky because now one of the housemates is hitting on me. Plus, adding to the rain count I got a message from another backup asking me to move in too! Ah, I love it when things work out.

So now I am de stressed and rather peppy. I am looking forward to cleaning the mould off all the walls in my old house this weekend before moving in somewhere with carpet and hopefully a flushing toilet. I am so moving up in the world. Although, my room is next to the toilet again. Is there a pattern here?

Today I said goodbye to Cassie by way of high tea at Shipps Tearoom. This place is so cute with tea cups hanging down from the ceiling, 40's style chairs and table cloths and the most delicious range of cakes, tarts and slices. We feasted on scones with clotted cream and home made jams, cucumber, cheese, smoked salmon and ham sandwiches as well as orange pekoe tea, a slice of pear tart as well as lemon drizzle cake. It was very grand. However, I now want to vomit.

This weekend is the last for Weir Road which will be a bit sad as it's kind of the end of a chapter. We are celebrating with a massive cleaning session on Sunday followed by takeaway curry. By the way, I just want to say I haven't eaten chocolate all week, despite many temptations along the way. I'm like a machine of strong will, but mostly just stubborn as I didn't want Skinner to beat me as I failed miserably last week after day 2.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Homeless in 8 days

So I’m in the middle of house hunting hell. Yes, it’s seriously hell. You’d think it would be easy. I’m in a city where there are so many transient people, surely I’d be able to find a room. Well, no I can’t. I’m a loser. Looking for a room in a houseshare is seriously like having to audition for Big Brother. Well, it’s how I imagine auditioning for Big Brother would be like. You get about 5 minutes with your potential housemates to woo them and make them remember you out of the 200 applicants they get for the room. So far, I haven’t mad much of an impression. Well, I have, but not in the right way. Last week I looked at a place that had a 30 year old female living there. She didn’t quite believe that I was 26, but after insisting I was, she seemed to believe me. We then proceeded to bond about Sex and the City and other various girly things. I thought I was kind of a shoe in, because a) she said I was looking really good and b) well, there is no b and although it was way out of my budget, I was going to take it. So the next day I got a text message from her saying she was really sorry, she had given the room to someone else, but if I wanted, we could go out for a drink sometime. A drink? I don’t want a drink, I want a freakin’ bedroom! Ugh. I also saw another potentially good place which was just down the road from where I am living now. I made the mistake though of telling the guys that I really liked watching this show about midgets on tv. The delivery of the story was atrocious, which I acknowledged and they did too, we all laughed, but now I am thinking they where laughing but thinking this girl is a freak. I got an email saying they really liked me but they had given the room to someone else. It's not you, it's me. That old chestnut! Last night I got asked if I stole and then if I screamed in the middle of the night. I mean seriously.

Now, I am truly getting desperate. I am like one of those 35 year old women who go out on the prowl at every available night out sporting a black leather mini skirt and their black backpacks that were kind of cool in the 90’s but are now the equivalent of happy pants. It’s like going speed dating. I’m meeting someone (or sometimes 5 people), thinking we get along and maybe we have a future together, imaging what it would be like to live with them, and then BAM, they don’t call. Why don’t they call? Why don’t they want to live with me? I’m normal(ish), clean, don’t have any weird habits. I know I tell pointless stories and sometimes, ok, most of the time deliver them really poorly, but they don’t know that. Ok, enough whining. Oh crap. I just realised to add to my failings in life, I can’t count either, I thought I had 14 days left. This particular point calls for more than just a ‘crap’, hmmm, ok, SHIT! Sorry mum, but it was called for.

Other than house hunting, I’ve been, ummm, ok, house hunting is all I’ve been doing. I did manage to squeeze in my first proper restaurant meal in London on Saturday night. Apparently it’s Gwen and Chris’ favourite restaurant, well, that’ according to Vic, and I’ll believe anything. It was amazing. As usual I picked the crappiest thing on the menu, but it was still good, but not as good as everyone else’s. I really need to address my order envy problem. I’ve tried copying others, but then I convinced myself that my meal is better, but it never is. Why try and be different? When it comes to ordering out, individuality over way overrated. Speaking of food I am undergoing a challenge this week. I am not going to eat chocolate for 7 days. I tried going without for 3 days last week but failed miserably. It was embarrassing. I know where I went wrong, it was the caramel Mc Vitties. Damn that caramel biscuit that so cleverly holds the biscuit together when you dip it in your tea. But now there is pride and money at stake. I will overcome my weaknesses and show those non-believers that I can do it.

Wish me luck.