Livers are evil... and therefore must be punished!

It's a new year, can you actually fucking believe it?! I know I am still struggling to come to terms with this small yet rather significant fact. The scary thing is that everyone keeps telling me the older I get the faster the years are going to roll on by - which I suppose is really wonderful news for the very senior senior citizens who are, in effect, living on borrowed time. But for me, this is just plain depressing... Basically what people are telling me is that as I walk the line to becoming a fully fledged G one day, the walk is either gonna get faster or the line a helluva lot shorter, mmmm....

Which has lead to me the conclusion that you might as well enjoy every step you take. And yes, this means totally over-indulging during the festive season - might as well welcome the new year in with a bang ;) Besides, my liver is an evil little devil and therefore, from time to time, must be reminded who is boss. Now if I could just rid myself of the guilt I feel for this punishment then maybe I wouldn't be sitting here, one week into 2008, booze free for the month of January.

Whoever invented the word "detox" should be shot!

Oh and what is it with everyone and making new year resolutions??? I personally find this to be the most pointless exercise around. Nobody keeps them. And if you are resolution inclined, why not make easy ones like "I will not be a complete knob this year" etc. That way you are sure to keep them (us humans love the easy stuff) which means you'll be a fucking ray of sunshine bursting with pride at your newly achieved objective and the rest of us sods who couldn't really give a fuck won't have to listen to you whine about it in the first place... it's just simple mathematics people.

100 CANNOT come after 99!

So I kinda have this deal with The Pilot and Fifty, mmm ok wait in saying that it isn't really a deal more like them being cruel and mean to what can only be described as one fucking fantastic chick!

You see I have a slight shoe problem. And it is slight, I think most of my tarts (and now it would seem my boyfriend too) exaggerate this and make it sound like I eat, sleep and breathe shoes. Admittingly so, I love them. Nothing quite cuts the grade like an awesome, beautifully made pair of shoes. A great pair of shoes can make you feel like Clarke Kent does when he puts on the Superman outfit....

So this little "bet" came about because I am currently sitting on 99 pairs of shoes AND have a birthday coming up relatively soon to which these two thought they would buy me my 100th pair of shoes as a gift. At first, I was touched, deeply moved actually... The support for my hobby and goal of owning 300 pairs of shoes was astounding. How blessed am I, I thought...

... NOT AT FUCKING ALL.

These two bloody shoe loving supporters in disguise were secretly deciding that my 100th pair of shoes should be none other than a pair of crocs. But wait there's more - to add insult to injury, they were going to be pink and... I'd have to wear them on my birthday. Like fuck I am!

Most people would ask what the big deal was - pink crocs, ok so they ain't exactly THE most desirable shoe but nothing wrong them. To these people I say, go get your fucking heads checked. Crocs are the most hideous things ever made and yes, I know they are comfortable but for fucks sake people, have some class / catch a clue!

So this is the dilemma I know face...

The itch to reward myself with a new pair of shoezies is fast becoming a rash. But how do I go about buying a new pair of shoes, my 100th pair, and not show them off like a proud mom? For if I do this, I know those excuse for shoes are on their way and that sends me into a complete panic. I can feel the cold sweat break on my brow as I write this... The desire to be schneaky and lie telling the Pilot they are an old pair is there but I would, oddly enough, feel guilty. Bugger!

Leaving your Mark

You know the saying that says everyone has a story? Well so do scars. In fact, scars have the best stories... They are filled with tails of drunkeness, naughtiness, stupidity and the general juicy facts of a person's life.

My scars could literally tell 1000 stories, mainly due to the fact that I have so many. What can I say: I get drunk and fall down alot ok? Don't judge me.

My favourite scars are the rather peculiar ones I have on my feet, which miraculously found their way onto The Pilot's feet as well... infectious buggers! ;) These scars will always remind me of the exact moment when I walked into The Pilot's parentals house wearing open sandals and his mom commented: "OMG you have exactly the same marks, in the same place, as The Pilot".... Mmmmm, yes well 10 000 000 points to the Einstein that can guess how they got there!

Do you believe?

Religios are the worst kind of people.

We all know that the world is made up of a variety of religions - some with a central character called God, others Mary, some Allah etc. We all know that there is freedom of choice in this world and that we all have the right to believe in what we deem fit... So how come Religios don't seem to understand this? Especially the Catholic and Christian ones - man these people are just waiting behind every door to shove more Bible punting crap down your throat.

Personally, I don't believe in God and think the Bible is a load of crap - after all it's a book, and a very subjective book at that! I do, however, believe in a higher power or as I like to term it: "The Universe". My family understands and accepts this and allows me to follow my beliefs.

So my question is this: Why can't others?

Is it really so bad that I think churches are depressing, refuse to get married in one in the long distant future... Am I the Devil Woman, The Eternal Sinner, A Lost Soul etc if I don't go to church, punt my religion down people's throats until they can't breathe anymore? Religion is important to a lot of people but quite frankly I sometimes think it is just used as an excuse, a crux.

I think having faith in something is far more important - however you choose to direct that faith is entirely your decision. A free decision, a decision that no one has the right to critise or mock.

The Boat Race

Oh. Sweet. Jebus.

I am, in Lyman's terms, f.u.c.k.e.d. Properly actually...

And this is the reason why...
In an effort to determine the quickest throats in the agency, we will conduct a departmental Boat Race to determine the fastest consumers in the agency @ agency drinks this afternoon.
Each dept has a team of 5 representatives to participate in the challenge.

• Teams must be comprised of a 60/40 gender split.
• 5 vs 5 in a beer drinking relay.
• Each drinker has to complete his/her beer and place empty beer can upside down on their heads to indicate completion – once this is done, the next drinker may proceed.
• The first team to complete all 5 legs will be awarded the title of Boat Race champions.
• Along with this prestigious title, the winning team will be richly rewarded with a worthwhile prize.
• Judges will be present.

Naturally, my work colleagues have heard the ghastly (and very untrue) rumours concerning my drinking habits and ability. In fact, these rumours have led them to believe that not only can I drink beer *gag* but I can down it in like super-fast-quick-quick-lightening speed. They think I am the champion of shebeen drinking - the thirsty leper that sits and dops all day long. Fucking awesome!

Now you might say, well so what's the big deal? The big deal, my dear readers, is that I am not only part of the boat race but I am our team leader. The big deal is that everyone is counting on me to show them how us uncultured tarts drink. The big deal is that I am fucked or will be at exactly 5:01pm today ;) Thank fuck for all the funneling done in first year...

... If you'll excuse me, I have to go mentally prepare for the drinking challenge ahead. Wish me luck!

It's Getting Serious!

Can anybody tell me why on God's green earth reaching 3 months in a relationship constitute said relationship as being serious?! Anyone?...

I personally just don't get this. Don't get me wrong reaching 3 months is a great and tastic milestone (if you're with the most fantastic man like I am) but in my mind it in no way can mean that the relationship is serious, can it? I mean, whatever happened to the days where the "serious" word got dropped into conversations with your tarts once you had hit like a year... I just don't think that 3 months can be classified as serious, and on that note I seem to be the only thing that thinks this.

Everytime a new tart hears about my 3 monther (which was yesterday) the first thing out of their mouths is "oh so it's getting serious" What in zi fuck are they on about? I dunno, maybe things have changed since I got together with my last boyfriend... then again, maybe everyone has just plain lost their minds!

What, no more adrenalin?

I think my adrenal glands are empty... No seriously, I think they have packed their bags and taken a holiday!

I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised after all the amount of overtime they have been putting in. You see, I've had one of those weeks. One of those weeks where you just don't have time to eat, let alone spare 20 minutes in the morning to blow-dry your hair (the result of which has lead me to the conclusion that non blow-dried hair really isn't a very tit look for me). My week has been manic and has left me feeling a bit flat - ever had that?

I find it all very odd...

The worst part is that I had to cancel drinks, lunches etc with so many tarts that I fear next week might see my adrenal glands being kicked into overtime again, but on the social front. Which is great for me, but not so fantastic for my bank account and my liver!