In order to understand where the basis of this post may lie, you have to know that I recently had a bit of a fling with a younger guy. Much younger. Like 10 years younger.
In my dream, there was me, him and a few randomers, the way random people that don’t even know each other or a girl you were in primary school with and haven’t seen in 20 years pop up in dreams. And there was a house, a wooden house with a lot of staircases. There didn’t seem to be much chatting but I was definitely agitated. Someone told me about the theory of rooms and what they symbolise in dreams (different rooms are different areas of your life, surprise surprise and what happens in each are a reflection of what’s going on in your life at the time *yawn*) and perhaps this is why I got the wake up call I needed, no pun intended. This younger guy suddenly appeared in the dream, in the house and he wanted to talk to me. He told me that it was me he wanted.
At this point dear readers, I should point out that in real life this guy has a girlfriend of a couple of months. Judge if you will, but remember, it’s me that’s single, not him and so I should be able to do as I please without threat of the gallows or worse still doomed to spend eternity in Krystle nightclub. And it was a flingette if you will, and we’ve all had those. He seemed very genuine about choosing me over his girlfriend and then got upset. He was going to tell her about us but was dreading it. He apologised he hadn’t told her sooner and then he kissed me. All was going well. Exactly what happened next, I’m not sure but I do remember it was me and my Mom talking in the kitchen and I was all flustered.
‘Look at it! LOOK! OMG! It’s a flipping oval ruby on a gold band engagement ring! Gold! A Ruby! O-V-A-L R-U-B-Y! Gold! Gah!
Well, if he thinks that’s the type of ring I’d like, well, I’m not sure if he knows me at all! And I DO NOT want to be with a guy that doesn’t know me!’
At that exact point I woke up with a fright. Jesus, Mary and St Joseph! That ring was hideous! Maybe I should turn my attention to single guys only or at least those with good taste in jewellery.
Oooo I do love trying out a new make up brand! I was vey, vey excited a few months back when I heard that 
More recently, I purchased from the latest range, Dystopia. the 4-colour palette in purple is right up my street! The white base has a hint of glitter and shimmer, as does the black shading eyeshadow. The purples are matt and very much stand alone colours if you’re more into block colours on your eyes, which I am but as you would expect, work great together as well. Again, the staying power is great, you won’t get any budging of this stuff until you, eh, actually remember to take it off!
Fizzy died at home yesterday. She was nearly 13 – a great age! Last Friday Fizzy wasn’t at all well and very quickly became quite weak. Our vet couldn’t diagnose exactly what the problem was there and then, prescribed some medication and wanted to see her again within a few days. Fizzy ate a little ham on Saturday but was having difficulty keeping anything down. Over the weekend she didn’t improve and by Monday it wasn’t looking good. We really don’t think she was in pain, maybe a bit uncomfortable. She wasn’t able to eat properly again. My Mom was on duty around the clock [Fizzy lived with her] and with a heavy heart told me that she didn’t think Fizzy would make it. An hour before she was due to go back to the vet, Fizzy let out a cry and breathed her last. Mom was with her, stroking her fur and talking to her. She left a voicemail for our vet a while later to let him know Fizzy hadn’t made it and he rang back within minutes to sympathise, as he’s that type of vet.
I got into the taxi and sighed with relief. I had been almost in pain trying to keep my face from scowling over the past few hours and there was also the fact that I was absolutely starving – I had just been at ‘The Meal from Hell’. Pretentious overpriced food, combined with snooty yet inefficient wait staff AND that I was out with work colleagues I didn’t want to spend a second more than necessary with, this had all the hallmarks of uncomfortable dining before we picked out the wine.
‘Excuse me, do you have these in a size 6?’
Oh I do like a nice military jacket! I have to say, it’s one of my favourite looks – sharp, edgy jacket with skinny jeans and boots with a heel just begs for a ‘I know I look great’ attitude. Back when I was a teenager in 1842 and not exactly living near Camden Market or the Portobello Road, there was a distinct lack of the kind of clothes I wanted to wear available in Smalltown. I did once resort to buying a man’s blazer in a charity shop and then fashioning epaulets out of gold material and sewing fringing that was actually meant for curtain ties into the kind of thing I wanted. I also managed to somehow find a gold brooch that resembled a type of battlefield medal and I looped some different gold rope-y kind of stuff that I also found in the local haberdashery store between one shoulder and the collar. Oh, I loved that jacket! And you couldn’t really see the sewing stitches unless you were really, really close up!
Everything I own is my stuff.. right?Just stuff I own. It’s my stuff, not anyone else’s and if I choose to actually put tacky fridge magnets from the town of my parents last holiday destination on display, well, I can stick them wherever I want to! And although it’s gone way beyond a joke at this stage and I don’t even try and refuse them, they’re not like my favourite things in the world, ok? They just make up part of ‘my stuff’, stuff you’ll find in my apartment.
