This is getting ridiculous.

It's 14:56. Everything was going fine. I'd actually got some work done and had played a good solid hour of Tetris on my lunchbreak without gameovering once (it's only a matter of time before I start having the Tetris dreams. It's happened before and it'll happen again. If I play too much my brain gets so addicted it doesn't even stop thinking about it when I'm asleep).

Then I sent an email and this happened:

Why won't Duncan James leave me alone? Why does his quest for shameless self-promotion keep invading my life. A life that I vowed would be Duncan James free.

If this keeps happening I'm going to be forced to take drastic action, for instance...

... and if that doesn't work then a strongly worded letter will be winging it's way to my local MP.

Things that rocked my world today

[Long and boring conversation about laundry ending up with....]

Me: You're on crack again arent you? Just because Kate Moss and Pete Doherty are doing it doesnt mean you can too.

Mum: I think I can

Oh the crazy post modern world we live in!

Elsewhere it turns out 'fonzy' did NOT come up on my phone's predictive text. I mention him at least five times a day so I can't belive I wouldn't have ever saved his name to my phone's dictionary. I feel sick and a little perturbed (that might be due to having 3 cups of coffee after 9pm)

Why I don't tell my mum things

Why I don't tell my mum things.

Oh happy day! My Nintendo DS Lite (in Crystal White, though I would have preferred the Japanese Navy version I wasnt going to spend £36.79 on postage) and my games have arrived and it's made the fact that my brother and my future sitcom writing partner have gone to visit MY Fred in Austrailia WITHOUT ME. Damn kids. Anyway, this is why I shouldn't tell my mum about my life...

Mum - You're chirpy this afternoon. Chirpy for you at any rate
Me - I'm a Bobbing Bobcat [this relates to an internet test I'd taken earlier in the day - here]
Mum - hmm... I wouldn't go quite that far
Me - No. I am. The internet said. The internets never lies. [cue eyebrow raise and pursed lips from the mother]. I am also happy because I have got all my games for my new beautiful DS. It's awesome. I can't stop playing Tetris, theres about 50 billion different versions of it all in one. It's a bit like how I imagine heaven but with less harp music and more plink plink brrr music.
Mum - I didn't know you were into geeky games
Me - I like puzzle games and I like cute cartoon platform games, sometimes i like racing games
Mum - You are a surprise sometimes... geek [said with a mock cough from behind her hand]

Me - What? I'm not a geek. I'm cool. Look at me. See?
Mum - Peering into a tiny screen hurting your thumb muscles. That makes you a geek, 100 per cent, through and through.. like a stick of rock

Me - You shush, you dont know what the hell you're talking about

Mum - You are wrong. I am hip hoppity up to date. I know a geek when I see one

Me - I'm going to smash your face in. Now go away.
Mum - You wuv me really

Me - Do I? You keep telling yourself that.

[cue 37 minutes of pouting and crying and assurances that Yes I do love her really and No, I wouldn't ever try and beat her up. Mum's are exhausting]

Freaks and geeks (and girl secrets)

First the freaks. Or more specifically - freak (singular). For once, I am not discussing myself. I am actually referring to the young gentleman I met in an Amsterdam hostel recently - this particular gentleman looked like Renton-from-Trainspotting but in a child's body. That's the best description I can come up with. Very small and svelte and, admittedly, good looking but a man-child nonetheless. Sort of like Parminder Nagra from Bend It Like Beckham and TV's ER. She's how old.. about 30? Looks about 13. It's disconcerting to say the least. Anyway, now I have (semi) successfully waffled an over complicated mental picture for you let me tell you about freak boy and how he thinks you should make friends. His plan consisted of sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME (I am not a touchy feely person), lighting up a hugemongous joint and then writhing around in apparent ecstasy at my feet. Sadly, this did not fly too well with the two middle class girls from England that he'd chosen to perform this routine for. They were left with no choice but to openly laugh at him. I felt bad because he's going to be left with the impression that all British girls are uptight and snooty and mean but... I just don't know how to deal with someone sat moaning and staring at me as an ice breaker. I repeat.. AN ICE BREAKER. WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY? That is not the behaviour of someone who wants to make some new gal pals. That's the behaviour of a fruit loop. He may as well come with a 'Danger Will Robinson' label embossed on his forehead.

Geeks of course are never an enemy to the Sazz. Except for maybe when you're in a hostel, reet late at night, and not necesarilly all 'with it' and one of these Geek creatures spends 10 valient minutes trying to draw you into conversation and then starts going off on a tangent based around how the town you've said you come from is actually the shittiest part of Vancover and it's where all the crackwhores hang out. What do I say to that? I settled on a bored-sounding 'oh. thats interesting'. And went to switch off the damn light. Damn kids.

God. I'm such a bitch. No wonder everyone who isn't British hates the Britsh. People like me are going out into the world and being as unfriendly as one person can be. Do I feel guilty? No. Would I change? No. But at least I'm aware of it. I just can't handle small talk, that's the main problem. A slight variation of the standard 'getting to know you' questions (who are you? where are you from? why are you here? what stuff do you like? do you think there's a chance you'll sleep with me? not neccassarily in that order and perhaps with a few filler questions thrown in between them) from every person you ever meet. It just leaves me a little tired and bored and considering sucide. So how do I make friends? Well anyone that laughs at my stupid jokes within five minutes of me meeting them or, converesly, someone who makes me laugh in the same time frame. But mostly the me making them laugh thing. That's a short time frame to work with if you are looking to be my friend I know, but after five minutes I'm more than likely going to get distracted by something shiny so the rules are in place for a good reason.

Anyway... girl secrets. This also relates to my holiday. Well, the train journey home from my holiday. At one of the stations we stopped for a few minutes while they seperated the front and back carriages. This allowed enough time for two ubertrendy Topshop dummy wannabees (you know the ones that wear the exact same outfits you see in the store window down to the stupid gold ballet pumps, seventeen different necklaces, a ridiculous amount of layering in the tee shirt department, and are just as skinny? Yes them. 'The Enemy'). Well actually they weren't too bad, just the exact same looking and acting creatures as everyone else from their age group who listens to Panic! At the Disco.. so anyways, they get on the train acting all nonchalent and cool and settle into the seats right behind mine. Literally just as they sit down they notice a boy on the platform and start squealing in a pitch only dogs can hear (I'm a bitch so I could just about make it out). They have this odd conversation that goes 'Oh my god! What do I do?!?!' 'Oh my god! What should you do?!?!!?!??' for about thirty seconds (the longest thirty seconds of my life) and eventually run to the carriage doors where they call Mr Object-des-Crush over and suddenly return to the supercool extreme sideparting queens of ballet shoes that they were earlier. Just a little more breathless (hyperventilation has that effect on people). As the train moved away they got 'Tom' to agree to a meeting later in Arundal to 'feed the ducks' (Is that a euphamism I wondered? Those crazy kids and their slang!). As we rolled properly away from the station they actually started jumping up and down and hugging like one of them had just won a beauty pagent. I wanted so badly to hate them (well, continue hating them) but now I felt empathy with them. I've done that. I might even have done that in public WHERE OTHER PEOPLE COULD SEE ME and more importantly JUDGE ME. This is what it is to be a girl. We are crazy but somehow manage to keep the (majority) of the crazy hidden. This girl was so excited I thought she might pass out just because the boy she likes said he'd go and feed the ducks with her (I'm going to assume its not a euphamism, Arundal does have a famous duck pond I believe). That boy will probably never know JUST how happy this made her, even if they do end up going out he will never know he made a carriage full of strangers wrinkle their noses and look slightly distastefully at this girl who was shrieking just a little bit too loudly for comfort. If he did know that then I doubt she would stand even a smidgeon of a chance with him. And it sort of reminded me about the other day when I requested my stepdad slow down when we got to The General's old house so I could see if there were any clearer signs of the PCG (Potentially Cute Guy) that I'd seen hanging around there the other day. And he laughed. Until he realised I was serious

'You really are a stalker'

'No. I'm a girl. This is what females are like'

And its true. So beware. You may think all woman are mental but you really really don't even know the half of it.

While I'm being all open and honest here... I'm addicted to the Biography channel. It started with David Cassidy a few weeks ago (Hot DANG! he was so pretty) and today I find myself watching AN HOUR on Ben Stiller. I mean, I like Ben Stiller. He's nice. His films are lightly funny fluff, but really. An hour learning about Ben Stiller's life? Thats... Its just... It's not right. Although I did find out his mum was the English teacher in Fame (the film not the TV show.. yes it's darker and grittier but it's got the same Leeroy in it) for some reason that really made my day.

A surprisingly long diatribe against Jade Goody.

I think I should be allowed to be on vacation permanently. Only because when I do come home from a lovely holiday - no matter where it is and no matter how long I've been gone for I end up feeling wretched with life and myself and the world and all things contained within. Perhaps going to that party three hours after having got home from five mildly debauched days spent in Amsterdam - all stinky and tired and emotional - wasn't the best idea to lift my spirits for the coming weekend, as in - it worked in the short term but ultimately ensured that my body and being were properly fucked instead of just slightly mangled.

This meant, come Saturday afternoon, that I needed cheering up. What better way to do ths than buy more stuff? However, a half-assed wander round the shopping centre did not help (I know. Shocking). I was all crochety and nowhere had anything sufficiently nice for me to consider except a yellow spotted 60s shift dress in Topshop that I tried on and decided did nothing for me except giving my breasts a very attractive 'unnaturally flattened' appearence. Thank fuck for that cos the next day I saw Jade Goody had worn the very same dress to the Wireless festival in Hyde Park. That bitch also sported my scratchy green H&M jumper in the 'What Were They Thinking?' section of Heat magazine a few months ago so I can never wear that again (actually, I might have to thank her for that - it was truly fugly and uncomfortable. I was drawn to it for the £7.99 price tag). While I'm on the subject please tell me who - WHO - wants to smell like J-A-D-E G-O-O-D-Y? It's probably THE singularly most baffling item to be put on sale in my lifetime (I'm even including pogs in that equation - N.B. PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE POINT OF POGS WERE). Having said all that I do admit I have brought 'Curious' by Britney but she's a full on white trash princess who recorded two of the greatest pop songs ever written ('One More Time...' and 'Toxic' as you're asking). I can understand why people would think that was a bit tacky and wrong but thats the point as far as I'm concerned. I love tacky things. For instance, my mum has a new face mug. This is where you GET YOUR OWN FACE put on a MUG. Then you can drink your hot beverage AND LOOK AT YOUR OWN FACE without need of a mirror. I've warned her that if I don't get a face mug (and face cake for that matter) for my birthday then there will be deaths and she will be responsible. I even have a pink plastic rosary hung round my rear view mirror (which Jesus keeps falling off - I don't think that's a good sign). Point is - even someone that coverts Face Mugs and plastic Rosary beads and Britney endorsed products even THIS PERSON knows where the line should be drawn. And that line just stops short of Jade Goody perfume. Basically, if something is too tacky for my tastes then its too tacky full stop.

To get back to the original point... because I could find nothing worth my money on Saturday I was forced - FORCED - to purchase a Nintendo DS Lite on Sunday. This has actually kept me going today - my first day back at *shudder* work. I watched with increasing glee as the emails popped into my inbox 'From: PLAY' Subject: ' Your order has been posted', once, twice, three times... all the games I'd ordered. Obviously this put a bit of a downer on the afternoon as there wasn't really that much point of me recieving the games if I didnt have anything to PLAY THEM ON. 'They're all fucking idiots at Play', I raged 'They MUST have seen I ordered all these things at the same time and they are going to the same house WHY ARE THEY PLAYING SUCH A CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT ON ME BY SENDING ONLY THE GAMES? WHY DO THEY WANT ME TO CRY? THOSE FUCKING.... oh email four from Play. Never mind then.' What was sad was I was kind of annoyed that they had managed to send that last email just as I was working mysefl up into a proper frenzy. You should never underestimate the value of a good, unadulterated, hormonal raging session.

How many times can you legitimately use the phrase 'curmudgeonly misanthrope' in one day?

I went dancing Saturday night, it's been an age since I last had a dance party. Sometime after the third G&T and before the second Malibu and Diet Coke I did some pretty special moves to Prince and The Futureheads. A man in a straw hat tried to dance up to me but I pretended I hadn't seen him. He was wearing a straw hat. I couldn't cope with that sort of fashion statement in the condition I was in. But anyway... out late, a little tipsy perhaps, so what do you want to do the next day? Thats right, sleep in till 12pm and then stay in bed eating cold rice pudding out of the can and have someone bring you copious amounts of tea. But no. Instead I was dragged kicking and screaming out of bed at 9am IN THE MORNING. ON A SUNDAY. to go and 'support' my mum who had voluteered to do this marathon thing. Which meant driving to Gosport (which always gives me bad vibes as I associate it with driving tests) and getting a ferry to Portsmouth and then walking 28 miles (there may be a slight exageration somewhere in that sentence) from the ferry port to Southsea common IN THE SUNSHINE. Which wasn't helping the dehydration I was experiencing. Of course I was playing the part of the grumpy misanthrope purely for comic effect but as with all actor's, my committment to the role convinced everone around me that I really am a stellar bitch. No really, it was for the comedy. In the end though, after I'd had an Orange Ribeana, two cups of tea and a chocolate digestive the day ended up being quite nice. I had a lovely sleep in the park (although that meant I got in trouble for not being at the finishing line, some people are never satisfied), then came home and had an epic nap with E!Entertainment channel in the background which lead to some very interesting celebrity lead dreams. Although I prefer the dreams I have when the History Channel is on as I normally end up being some sort of 'olden days' Queen in a castle. Which, I think we all know, if life was just and fair that'd be my job anyway.

Oh yeah, I saw The Da Vinci Code. My four word review: Nice idea, poorly executed.

See, too much spare time CAN be a good thing

Oh my god. Is it going home time yet? AN HOUR TO GO. You're kidding me right? You are fuckin kiddin me mate.

That's the converstaion I just had with myself. It seems that my inner monologue is getting more and more cockerny the older I get. I want to know what that is all about. I don't even watch Eastenders.

It's really quite something when you're bored anough to start pondering things about your inner monologue.

Here is a man who has taken his 'down time' and done something incredibly useful with it. If by 'incredibly useful' you mean 'slightly odd'.

I'm not sure what it is about his face but I find it compelling and yet disturbing at the same time. I get a feeling this will mean I develop a huge crush on him. Just like I did with the man who had the funny beard and worked as a shopping trolley pusher at Tesco (I don't know the correct job title, sorry. I'm assuming in reality it's not actually got anything to do with being a slang term for drug dealers but thats the best I could come up) just because I found his beard so mesmerising that I couldnt stop looking at him until one day I realised I had fallen in love. Damn those tricksy beards.

I just hope that the same pattern doesnt occur with Toadfish's mother. She looks like Mr Potato Head which I find just as mesmerising.

While I'm talking about weird faces/heads, have you seen X-Men 3 yet? In the first scene Patrick Stewart looks like he is wearing a latex mask. I know it was supposed to be twenty years previously but the smoothness of his skin had me completely freaked and I couldnt stop thinking about it for the rest of the film. I was the only one that got hung up on that huh? I see.