Inspired by a friend, I have decided to try and write a blog. But I’m a bit worried about it. Coz it might get a bit random, and God knows what might come out of my head. At the moment it’s pretty mixed up and confused and blah, blah, blah. What the hell are you supposed to write in those circumstances? Maybe I’ll just write down the random thoughts, and then go back to them later and explain. Lol.
Have decided to stop watching Eastenders. Stupid storyline. Just too stupid. Too far-fetched, and too “trying to make everyone cry”. Just give it a bloody rest.
Got a nice new quilt cover today. Bit weird when it turned out that the fat woman in the clingy leggings was also buying the same quilt cover at the same time, and the same fitted sheets. And the short bloke next to me was buying the same sheets and pillow cases. It was, err, surreal. Like I was in a parallel universe, but really it was Argos in Blackpool, which I suppose could actually be classed as a parallel universe in which everyone is really a Chav from the planet Marton, except at certain times of the year when the Chavwegians from the Glasgow Quadrant beam down for the weekend. Which reminds me that I have also given up shopping in town. I decided it the other day, after nearly killing anyone in sight after leaving the Vodafone store. Something happened on the way from BHS to the Vodafone store. I don’t know what. But by the time I got to the Vodafone store, I was in no mood for messing. Actually, I think it was the Vodafone store that caused it, looking back. The lack of a proper queuing system, the incompetent staff (one bloke in particular, I’m sure the lady knew what she was doing), and the annoying fellow customers. Think I will become a shopping recluse and do it all online, from under the comfort of my Argos quilt cover. So much more relaxing, and pain free. Until I need to enter another sodding password for another website, or another “verify your Visa” pop-up...
So, what next? Text messages. Like when you send one to someone and they don’t reply, or don’t reply for ages, and you’re there thinking “what have I done wrong?” and endlessly pick up your phone to check it for the reply that might have sneaked on there silently whilst you were, err, right next to it. Then it goes off, and big smile, they have replied at last! To be met with, “Oh ffs! Why are you texting me? Doesn’t the phone know I’m only accepting texts from “you-know-who” at the moment? Why am I receiving texts from other people? Right. Delete. How dare you bloody text me???” Ha ha! I’m obviously some stalker/psycho/saddo/whatever else. Lol. Pmsl. Lmfao. Etc, etc. You get the picture. But then, after talking to friends, I realise that it’s not just me, so that’s OK. We are all mental these days. The cyber age/mobile phone/web/sat nav/tracking device/Russian nuclear spy satellites are all to blame. We can’t help it, we are not in control anymore. How the hell did anyone manage without paper and pens? And horses to deliver their letters? Look where it has led! Dick Turpin had amazing forethought. He was really trying to stop the cyber age (and therefore hours and hours of needless stress) happening to his descendants. Hail Black Bess!!
Fuck me, I told you this would be random. Do you think Prozac might help? Hang on, just checking my texts...
I’m the type of person who likes something to look forward to. Preferably holidays. Preferably with someone nice, and somewhere just as nice, or nicer. Somewhere warm, with a pool, and hot and cold laid on. And your own shower and bog (that’s toilet, to the posh people). And a swimming pool. All for a bargain price. I’ve got a few places in mind, but warm and England doesn’t go together, especially not in Winter, and rarely in Summer. And neither does bargain price. So if you want a holiday, Jayne, you’re gonna have to pay the price for it. OK, OK! What about going abroad to get the sun? Sounds good, but not easy on your own with a toddler, two cases, a travel cot, and a pram, so foreign travel will have to wait for now.
Right, this makes me mad. That f-ing Blockbuster advert for “The Switch”. “When a woman decides to fall pregnant...” WTF?!! Like us women just decide to get pregnant and it happens. The Immaculate Conception? I think I will get pregnant today. Ping, and you’re pregnant. Easy. And I hate the term “fall pregnant”!!! Fall? Like you trip up or something? What happened to the good old term “got pregnant”, or “became pregnant”? And the whole concept that the woman decides it, without any input from the bloke, is extremely sexist! Like she’s some selfish one-tracked baby-minded hormonal sperm stealer!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
OK, better shut up for now, before anyone rings for an ambulance for the mad woman.x
Great stuff, look forward to more.
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