Posts Tagged ‘ Humour ’

10 Reasons I Shouldn’t Write My Life Story

#1 I am far too young. What could I tell you? I’m barely out of senior school… Or at least that’s how I feel. Sure, a few interesting things have happened in my life, but most of them happened to someone else. It’s like asking Justin Bieber to reveal how he lost his virginity…. There’s just not much to tell yet.


#2 I have done nothing of interest to the world. I was born, I went to school, flunked, got a job and here I am. I’ve managed to be in consecutive relationships since I was 16, but that’s not really page turning info. Oh, I did a charity skydive and didn’t die. I haven’t ever been arrested, gotten into a fight or run to be elected as the local MP. I haven’t even sniffed cocaine! (and battling a drug addiction is a must in an autobiography)


#3 I wouldn’t want my autobiography next to Katie Price, Kerry Catona, Alan Titchmarch or any other Z-List celeb. Imagine walking into Waterstones and finding all your hard work sat next to Cheryl Cole’s “Et’s cuz ya wurth et” face. Good-bye street cred.


#4 I’m too busy writing rubbish and doing housework. I have far too many of these lists to write, and the dishwasher always needs stacking.


#5 I’ve got a terrible memory. I wonder if I have some sort of condition because I can never remember important things in my life. Like [insert important event here] and [another important life event]. If I’m honest, I’d probably just be making it up if I wrote my life story. And that’s not fair on anyone!


#6 I am a nobody, therefore nobody would read it. I am trying to make myself un-invisible. But until then, I’ll leave the autobiography industry to the above Z-listers. I’ll do something really cool and outlandish one day.


#7 I haven’t met Nelson Mandela. Isn’t that in the criteria?


#8 I don’t think I’ve ever read another person’s life story, so I think it’d be a bit unfair to expect people to read mine. I have no desire to read about peoples’ lives, unless they’re family and then it’s likely you’ll know the people they’re talking about.


#9 It would be embarrassing. I was a very awkward teenager and even thinking about my youth makes me cringe. I was a fat little idiot with an obsession for Eminem and pizza.


#10 I haven’t had sex with more than four people… And I’m from Essex.


The Blue Shadow

I see you there

Behind my back

Watching every

Place I track


A permanent resident

Everywhere I walk

Enjoyed your company

But now we need to talk…


It’s… just lately

I’m starting to find

You’ve become

A bit of a bind.


So with this verse

I’ll say Godspeed

And leave you now;

I’m off to Leeds.


Your Shadow.

A Letter of Complaint to my Conscience

Dear Sir / Madam of my Conscience,

I am writing this letter of complaint as I am having trouble sleeping. While you were away all those years, I had a wonderful relationship with my bed. I never laid awake, pondering all the problems in the world. But since you have suddenly appeared in the depths of my brain, I can no longer doze off into a wonderful dream-world. You suddenly conjure up pictures of all the things that worry me and it usually happens about four seconds before I would normally drift off. This, I believe, is totally unacceptable. I am not a monster. I do not kidnap children, shoot people or steal money. And since your arrival, I have even stopped eating animals. I can understand what you’re trying to get at, but why must you metaphorically elbow me in the head at 11:59pm on a work night? Some subjects I can cope with. But when you bother me with subjects such as ‘What’s going on in those fields across the road?’ and ‘What happens in all those slaughterhouses?’ I just can’t cope.

I really don’t mind you bothering me, but please come find me at a more appropriate time of day. I am rather partial to a nap in the afternoons, and although I enjoy it, I would rather be woken by you and your morbid subjects so I can get it out of the way early. Thanks in advance.



Mama’s Weekend Off



OK… I just heard the heating come on. That means I’ve got say, twenty minutes. I can see it’s getting a little lighter outside. Can’t be long now. Maybe I’ll sit and wait by the door. Just so I’ll be on time. Nothing worse than a tardy wake-up call. They’d be rather annoyed if I stopped being so predictable. Yes. I’ll sit and wait for the signal.


Right. She should be up by now? Come on… Nobody’s moving in there! I hope they haven’t forgotten. Well. Oh, wait… I heard someth- Oh no. False alarm. But, speaking of alarms I’d better get going. Time’s moving on. I’ll start from a distance. I don’t want to startle them and make them think something’s wrong. I mean, there is something wrong, but I don’t want to make her run out thinking one of us is in trouble. I’m nice like that, you know. Considerate.


Ok, ok, this is getting silly. I can’t wait much longer. And the other two are getting impatient. I’m in charge here and I need action for my brothers! Full attack then…


Goodness, I’m going full pelt now and nothing! I can hear one of them making a sort of ‘psshhh’-ing noise. Was it aimed at me? Well if it was, then come out and say it to me and my hungry brothers! I’ll keep on at your door until I break your will. WE MUST HAVE OUR BREAKFAST!


I’ve been meowing for nearly an hour now. Oh, wait – here she comes!! Quick, if all three of us gather at the door, there’s no way she can ignore us. And if she tries to go back, I’ll push my way in with her. Good grief, she looks awful. Looks as though she’s hardly slept. Wonder why? Oh well, she’s going to the kitchen now. Better go and see she’s doing her job properly.

A-ha! I know that sound… It’s the food cupboard! At last! Breakfast is served. Thanks, Mama. You can go back to wherever you came from. You need some beauty sleep. Or a facelift.

Oscar – My daily alarm (whether I set him or not).

I Hope I’ll Never Get Like That

What do you think of when you hear the words ‘old age’? Grey hair, hearing aids, pensions…? We all know it’s coming. When I think about it, I think of my job. I’m a care assistant and as a young woman working with the elderly, it crosses my mind more times than I like to care about. Before I became a carer, I had a cushy job in a shop. Nothing terribly nasty to deal with, except the odd rude mother. I had never thought about what will happen to me when I’m old. And I’m pretty sure many people older than me still haven’t thought about it either.

Where I work, I have had to deal with a large range of people, all old, but all very different. Some can walk, some can’t. Some can, but won’t. Some have a great sense of humour, and some are the rudest people I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet! So when I’m helping all these different people, I’m wondering to myself: will I end up this way? Will I end up relying on a person to wash me, clothe me and take me to the toilet? I want to know at what point in my life I might say, “Hey, you know what? I can’t be bothered any more, you do it for me.” It’s not the way I want to grow old, but I’m pretty sure that the people I have to help thought that too. I’m not saying that everyone is like that, but I’m sure some are. There’s always someone worse off than yourself, and I wish that some people could see how lucky they are.

Being very young and being from a town where 90% of my school friends all have two or more children, you’d expect me to be familiar with poo. Well, let me tell you, I wasn’t. Until I did this job. I was literally thrown in the commode at the deep end. All of a sudden, I was experiencing the world of incontinence (not personally!) and you can’t be squeamish when someone’s in a ‘bit of a pickle’. As long as you’ve got your gloves on, it’s down to business! And unless you’re in some sort of care role, I’ll bet you’ve never come across the Bristol Stool Scale. Yes, you got it peeps. Exactly what it says on the tin. I’ll be honest, it’s always a low point in my day when I ask a colleague “So, what type do you reckon that one was?”.

And so on to the inevitable. You’re born, you live, and then you die. Death seems to be a bit of a taboo in our house. I’m quite happy to discuss it, perhaps because I deal with it on a regular basis, but Ben does not like to talk about it (It might be because I tend to strike up at conversation about it at bedtime…). But I find dying very interesting. It’s something people rarely get to watch happening. Sometimes it’s quick, sometimes it’s slow. The first thing to notice is that a person will fall into unconsciousness, and their breathing will change. And believe it or not, there really is a smell. I can only describe it as a sickly-sweet smell. It seems to emanate from the body; it’s not unpleasant, but it’s not pleasant either. Then you begin to notice hands and feet go cold. Once the skin begins to change colour, that means the body is shutting down. It almost works its way up (or down) the body, going from the extremities and then, I suppose, to the heart. And that’s it. All that personality – gone. Strange to think about it, really. Does it go somewhere? We’ll never know… Until we’re there ourselves. I’m not such a big fan of death though, it freaks me out a bit. I’ll leave the whole washing the body thing to the others!

So although I’m only 24, I’m very worried about what I’ll be like when I’m 84. I’d rather not get to that age, but knowing my bloody luck, I will. And you try and keep your dignity while someone’s washing your bottom because you’ve wet yourself. I have so many people say how embarrassing it is for them to be in such a situation, and I totally understand it. But I’ll always smile and say “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”

And it’s bloody true!

10 Things I Do Whilst Procrastinating

the act or habit of procrastinating,  or putting off or delaying, especially something requiring immediate attention: She was smart, but her constant procrastination led her to be late with almost every assignment.

#1 Check Facebook. I scan new statuses, have a nose through a stranger’s photographs, judge them to be inferior to me, and then go to my own profile to make sure I look as upstanding as I feel. I click the “Like” button a few times to make people aware of my presence, maybe write a meaningless status about life / me / my day / the cats and comment on someone else’s status with a simple, but eloquent “lol”.

#2 Check into Twitter. Now, Twitter is my new baby. I could easily spend an entire day here. I’ll scan through tweets, maybe favourite a few and ‘RT’ some just causes. This media outlet is the place where my ‘Animal Activist’ persona lives. She does not live in Facebook land. That is for the ‘Essex Girl gone Suffolk’ persona. Anyway, back to Twitter. So I spend my Tweets telling others to ‘Stop Animal Experiments’, ‘Go Veggie’ or ‘Ban Hunting’ etc. etc. This tends to pass the time nicely, and I’m helping the Cause.

#3 Eat stuff. Everybody does it. Only, obese people don’t know when to stop. I like chocolate, but I don’t often have it in the house. So it’s usually biscuits. Failing biscuits… Well then it’s on to my dirty secret. Yes, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I have a bag of royal icing stashed away for emergencies. Only in dire emergencies, though. Hey, don’t judge me.

#4 Watch crap TV. Even if I’ve seen it ten times before, I’ll watch it if it means I don’t have to iron. Or clean the toilet. I hate cleaning the toilet.

#5 Wake the cats up. How come they get to sleep all day? They live under my roof for free, get food for nothing and wake me up at 6:30am on my days off for their breakfast, so why shouldn’t I get something out of them? I can just shake a little catnip onto the floor and watch them go…! It’s just a bit shit when they all get out of hand and start tearing into each other… And the carpets.

#6 I’ll write some shizzle to put on my blog. It might change your life, it might make you laugh. Heck, it might even make you cry. It’ll certainly make you do something. It was originally intended for my Twitter persona (Animal Activist Girl) so I could tell the world about the horrendous world of animal cruelty, but just lately I’ve added a bit of my creative flair into it. You know, just to cheer it up a bit.

#7 Listen to some music. Usually, I’ll put music on to motivate myself, but occasionally I’ll listen to it to waste my day away. I particularly enjoy pretending that I can sing just as well as the person I’m listening to. I know full well that I have no vocal skills at all, but I try all the same. I like to think Florence has nothing on me.

#8 I’ll get into my creative mode and spend the day making something useless like a bag made out of a pillowcase. Yes, I felt like I’d achieved something, but at the same time, disappointed because I knew I’d never be able to use it in public.

#9 Spend some time convincing myself I have a rare, incurable disease. WebMD is a great source of information. I can’t tell you the amount of times I knew I was pregnant.

#10 A great way to waste some time is to bake cupcakes. I like to research my recipe thoroughly on the net, go out and buy all the ingredients (from scratch, because that costs the most money), make a massive mess in the kitchen, eat the raw mixture, eat the cakes while they’re hot, eat them when they’ve cooled and eat the icing (until your teeth hurt). And here’s a great tip: always leave an even number of cakes after you noshed on them so that nobody suspects how greedy you’ve been while you were creating your mini masterpieces. Oh, and don’t forget the hours it takes to find all that cake mixture that got spattered up the walls.


When I’m procrastinating, I’m busy procrastinating.

A Plate of Fear

The lentils of horror,
The potato of doom,
The cruel cauliflower,
The horned Quorn,

You stab at your spores,
And the lack of flesh
Eats at you.