Blushing is NOT cute!

I really really really wish that I didn’t blush.  Or if I can’t stop blushing I wish I had dark skin, then at least it wouldn’t be so obvious.   Ok, it’s bad enough that you’re embarrassed anyway but to have a neon glow emitting from your face so EVERYONE knows that you’re embarrassed is even more embarrassing.  People say it’s cute.  People lie.  It’s cute if you get a bit of high colour, but turning a shade of beetroot all over your face, then chest and finally upper arms is like blushing on roids.   The worst bit is that people notice (like really, how could they not) and you can see them watching with interest as the colour develops.  It’s like you’re a human lava lamp.

Today I blushed so furiously in a meeting, for such a prolonged period of time that my client got up and turned on the air con.  At first I thought it was because he felt sorry for me and had turned it on to cool me down, but on reflection the heat coming from my side of the table was probably making HIM hot as well!

Under the Influence

In my experience there are many things that should not be done whilst under the influence of alcohol and today I can add two more things to this extensive list.   Actually make that three, blogging is probably the third thing… 

Last night I cooked under the influence.  The more glasses of red wine I drank, the less I cared about the food.  Well the problems actually began before I started drinking, as I forgot to put the roast in the oven, which meant that my patient dinner guests didn’t get to eat until nearly 9pm.  Luckily it pulled together at the end and some bits were mushy, but covered in a generous helping of red wine gravy (theme of the night) nobody complained.  As long as it’s good ole kiwi leg of lamb and the potatoes are nice and crispy who cares if the veges are mushy.  The best way to get away with it is to make sure all your guests are as sloshed as you are – job done.

Kiwi Roast Masterpiece

Who ate all the lamb?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today was my second UTI incident.  I met Miss Nikki for a VERY lovely lunch down by the canal in Little Venice, we sat outside in the cloudy/trying to be sunny but in the end really sunny kind of day.  A few glasses of rose down and I was feeling brave.  We discussed what goals and plans we had for the coming year and I admitted to one that has been sitting underneath my lazy subconscious for quite some time.  I think I’d like to run a half marathon.  NO!  I AM going to run a half marathon!  So we left the Waterways and headed off down the road when Nikki said she had a proposition for me.  I was excited, next pub, another drink?  Ah no, it was more like, “ok so you want to run a half marathon, lets do one in September”   My reaction was something like “are you CRAZY, I haven’t got the right shoes, bra, outfit, I don’t run, I’ve never run, I don’t think I can do it that soon, it’s far too early, god I can’t even run for 1 minute on the treadmill.”  It all piled out in a panicked jumble.  It’s all well and good SAYING you’re going to do exercise, but actually following it through, jeeeesus, steady on!   I said that perhaps this time next year might be more in keeping with my hollow intention of actually get off my lazy unexercised butt.  I left Nikki with the promise that I’m going to start my training regime tomorrow morning, in fact I’m even going to send her photographic evidence that I’m out training and not lying in bed with the duvet over my head.

But now I’m home and the rose wine fuzz is lifting and I think that I should challenge myself a bit more than I do.  So, as a matter of public record I’d like to announce that Little Miss Sunshine is going to do a half marathon in September 2009.  To give this the gravitas that it deserves please read the sentence before about the fact that I cannot and under no circumstances do not run – except maybe for my bus.  I can’t run for even 1 minute on the treadmill, so this is a life changing kind of commitment.  One that will see me running the streets of London like one of those ultra fit people that I dream about being – ok it might take me a while to get to that level.  As Rachel says, it won’t happen overnight but it will happen.  So I have to do it in my daggy trackies with my retro ipod for now, but when I’ve illustrated the commitment to myself I’m going to be decked out ultra Sweaty Betty style.  I need SOMETHING to detract from my hot sweaty beetroot red face.  Some people look good when they exercise, I do not.  So anyway, vanity out of the way, my training schedule starts tomorrow.  Walk 1 minute, run 1 minute, for at least 30 minutes.  Or maybe walk 2 minutes, run 1 minute.  I’ll give it a go and will keep you posted.

Me training, yeah right!

Tired, Dazed, Confused

I had a fifteen hour day at work yesterday preparing for a pitch. I was making quite good progress on my two powerpoint presentations, until disaster struck at 10.17pm. I was putting the finishing touches on them when the whole powerpoint system crashed. At first I didn’t panic. These things happen, sometimes it says ‘not responding’ but then it kicks back into gear. Not this time though. So I powered my laptop down, a little bit annoyed that I’d have to go back to the last saved version of the document – because it autosaves every half hour right? Well apparently bloody not, as I discovered when I opened the program back up again. I trawled through recent documents and nothing there came to my rescue either. It’s like the sneaky little bleep bleep files never existed. FARK! Tears were shed, swear words were uttered and I set back to work.

So five hours sleep later (I am so an 8 hour girl) and I was back at work bright and early trying to make up for lost time. The pitch went very well, thanks team for all the support! You guys rock! Especially when no one mentioned I was being a big whiny stressed out psycho before the meeting. It was another 11 hour day today (Mr Boss man, are you reading this?) and I am dazed, confused, tired and discombobulated (I love that word).

So this isn’t going to be a long one, because I haven’t actually done much else apart from work, and burn my greasy chicken samosa from my corner deli. I must buy groceries. My deli is exorbitantly overpriced, the food isn’t that great and I feel ripped off every time I leave.

So what is the reason for me posting when I’m so tired and have nothing much to say you may ask… Well I would like two things noted as a matter of public record.

1) A grey suit and brown shoes do not match, they do not work, they should not both be worn at the same time

2) Only wear trainers with a suit if you want to look ridiculous. Not even Angelina Jolie could pull off that look and I feel pretty confident it’s not a look she’d go for.

With that style advice dispensed, it’s time for me to go and eat my 2nd choice dinner after burnt samosa, only slightly burnt toast.

Bon appetit!