play that funky vinyl

I love Anna, I really do, but this does not mean I have to share in her (very bad) taste in music. On this we agree to disagree - when I ride in her car I must endure her musical preferences which up until the other day consisted of only 'Angel fm' a local radio station focusing on the war years whose slogan should be: music for OAPs by OAPs. I joke that when we hit an area of static its becasuse the presenter has just turned up his hearing aid. All the adverts are for undertakers which is quite depressing & slightly odd as when their listeners pop their clogs they can't very well arrange their own funeral can they?! The other day I had to endure a two hour gas mask special - I would really like to tell you that I'm joking here (as much as I loved the war effort back in my junior school history class!) She also gets very excited when she solves the daily guess the artist puzzle which I have to say is an impressive feat bearing in mind todays artist of the day was born in 1897! Having said all this at least I know what to expect. The easy jazz numbers are really quite relaxing and I have grown accustomed to the raspy singers & fuzz from the vinyl records - its all quite comforting in a funny sort of way!

"I love how they always sing about romance," Anna sighed, "It's all walks on the beach by moonlight and candle-lit dinners." "Oh, you old romantic you!" I gave her a playful nudge, "I know what you mean though. It's hardly Akon's 'I see you winding and grinding up on that pole' is it?!" This was probably a grandparents moment when they would say, 'Ah, the youth of today.' "That reminds me, my nan came round the flat this morning," I told Anna, as she had been out at the time buying groceries at tesco express down the road. "Oh?" she replied, as she had been out at the time picking up a few groceries from the tesco express down the road. "Yeah, I think she popped her head in for a bit of a nosey round the place, you know," my nan is a bit of a busybody and knows everything about everyone - she is even better friends with our own neighbours than we are ourselves! "She asked if we had a good evening last night and then she went off on one as she does about how things were back in her day - about the dances she used to go to. This music just reminded me of it that's all." "I want to be back in those times when you used to have to sit on the side of the hall waiting for boys to ask you politely if they could have this dance," Anna said her eyes glazing over slightly. "I know. My nan asked me to explain how it all works nowadays and I just didn't no quite how to put it! I think she would be appauled," I exclaimed. "I went with 'snatch and grab' as means of description but I don't think she really understood!" "Probably for the best," Anna retorted, "All that innapropriate groping would be too much for her!"

"Oh and by the way she thinks I have a drink problem!" I told her, laughing. Anna raised an eyebrow, looking for further explanation. "My mum called me up a while after she had left telling me that when my nan was tidying up the place she had found an empty vodka bottle in the bin next to my bed and feared the worst," I explained. "Oh, that's hilarious - she has such a low opinion of you," Anna chuckled, "The poor dear probably assumed you had downed the whole bottle in an alcohol induced stupour before you went off to bed!" "Well you know me," I gave a little shrug, "Can't get through the night without it. It wasn't even vodka that's the thing I'm just not that hard core. It was one of those bigger bottles of smirnoff ice you know left over from the flat warming party. It wasn't even as if I had drunk it all to myself, although that possibly would have made for a better night!" I said, my voice raised in mock outrage. "Ah, that fateful night. . ." Anna trailed off as we both sat there remembering traces of smiles playing on our lips.

Asexuality & psychoanalysis

“I had an amazing session with my new vibe last night,” Beth dropped in casually, cigarette in hand. “It’s the bullet, you know? Who would have known that such a small thing could be so powerful! After Bob, I may never go back to men again.” “Aww is that what you call him – if indeed it is a him?” I asked. “No dear, Bob as in Battery Operated Boyfriend!” Beth said placing a hand on my leg which clearly said ‘there, there, they will be here soon’. “Oh,” I said inwardly kicking myself for being so oblivious and slow on the uptake. “My power shower has always been good enough for me,” I said attempting to make a quick recovery. “That’s because you’re easy!” Anna giggled as I made a playful swing for her head. “Talking about never going back to men again I’ve decided to become asexual,” Anna announced matter-of-factly. “Anna, you know I love you, but you are really, very weird,” Beth said catching my eye in a knowing look. “Shut up you! Look I’ve researched it and all the characteristics fit me down to a tea. It says you have a few close friends who you tell everything to and cannot imagine having such a close relationship with a sexual partner – check. Also, you can never imagine committing yourself to a long-term relationship and staying faithful to one person - check. And you would prefer casual, meaningless affairs- check.” “That last one could quite easily describe Beth too!” I exclaimed, laughing. “I’ll have you know those days are behind me. I’m happily loved up thank you very much,” she retorted. “Well if you’re becoming asexual Anna, then I’m running away to a convent to become a nun,” I announced.

We might come across as a couple of man-haters, Anna and I, but we’re not really, honest. We completely value the uses that men can provide i.e. sex, I suppose. Perhaps it is our poor relationship history that has developed such a depressing outlook. Anna tends to opt for the home-wrecking approach, preying on men who are totally unavailable and breaking down their current relationship. When she has snared them she typically becomes bored in the first couple of weeks and proceeds to dump them. See, Anna values her independence above or else and becomes decidedly claustrophobic when tied down to another person. I advise prospective boyfriends not to call her too frequently or check what she’s up to and restrict seeing her to a max of once a week. I guess it’s the whole thrill of the chase argument – aren’t we all prone to it!

My lack of success with men can largely be put down to poor judgement on my part. You see a favourite No Doubt lyric of mine could have been modelled on me: when Gwen asks, ‘Why do the good girls always go for the bad boys?’ I totally relate. You meet a bad boy, get drawn in helplessly, begin destructive relationship, he breaks your heart; you mend slowly before the cycle begins again. It all sounds hopelessly sad & tragic, but then why does it happen so often to the strong woman in today’s society. Are we all just hopeless in love or is it because we are afraid of waiting for one of the nice, decent guys to come along? I think it’s because when I find ‘nice’, I read boring! So perhaps Anna and I aren’t all that different and I’m seeking thrills in my own way.

The current guy I’m totally hung up on isn’t particularly rock & roll: there are no piercings, tattoos, motorbikes or criminal records. However, he does enjoy the look on my face when he describes poo fetish porn, he wees up my neighbours wall (not that this is much of a problem other than the principle as I don't particularly like said neighbour anyway!), he writes explicit messages on the roof of my car which I wake up to in the morning & can never quite remember how they got there, drinks vodka red bulls like they are going out of fashion, inappropriately grinds with the entire club and then in the hot tub the following morning drops his shorts to discuss whether or not he should get his back, sack & crack waxed. At this I point out that he is in need of it! Yet, despite all of this, I'm drawn in helplessly. I guess the ‘nice-but-completely-boring’ bloke always turns out to be much better friend potential. Don’t get me wrong I have attempted this approach to wean myself off the bad apples, but this has always been met with disastrous results. My guilt issues and I tend to string out the relationship for a painful couple of nauseating months just because I feel bad for the poor bloke.

Anna once tried to tell me that she believed all my relationships were built on guilt, friendships included. Now there’s a great piece of psycho-analysis for you. “Take Heather, for example,” she began to explain to me, “You are still trying to make up for the fact that you supposedly bullied her in Junior School. We never gave her that invitation to our birthday party, remember? Here you are years later hanging onto that friendship just to make amends.” “What a complete load of crap!” I protested although a little nagging voice in the back of my head was telling me different, “We are both still great friends with Heather after all these years and its nothing to do with what happened in Junior school.” Anna raised an eyebrow (something which, in itself, irritates me as I’ve never been able to achieve it even after years of practising in front of the mirror whilst applying mascara which, thinking about it, is a potentially dangerous feat in itself!) “Alright then, what about that day when she completely went nuts at you back in college. Didn’t that make you feel slightly bad and secretly wanting to make it all right again?” She gave me a knowing smile. This is the annoying thing about a best friend who knows you inside out, better in fact than you probably know yourself; she has a habit of being invariably right.

A fact of nature (- but i'm sorry!)

I’d arranged to meet James my gym buddy for a quick work-out. I had a lot of stress to vent and felt that the treadmill could potentially be in for a pounding this evening. I hopped in the car and switched my i-pod to my work-out playlist to get me in the mood. My work-out playlist tends to switch between very angry rock numbers and ‘techno techno’ awful dance tunes. Today’s playlist of choice featured generic tunes with my favourite bass line - ‘mmm tsss, mmm tsss’ I nodded along in time as the man at the traffic lights next to me gave me a quizzical look. I swung my little blue yaris into the car park and drove round aimlessly for a while trying to decide which bay to park in – the trouble is there is just too much choice! I inwardly scolded myself for my indecisive nature and attempted miserably to Bay Park. After two failed attempts I squeezed myself in next to a parked moped knowing that I’d probably be returning to a scratch on my door for my efforts. Purse in hand and swinging my towel over my shoulder I headed for the gym.

I found James already on the treadmill and chose the machine next to him. He paused his workout to chat as I set up an incline walk. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked how things were with his girlfriend Ashleigh. He made some non-committal response with a look on his face that told me something was up. When I continued to press him for details I couldn’t help but laugh at the story that followed. He told me the other day they were lounging in bed when Ashleigh announces she’s going to the toilet for a poo. Apparently the thought of girls going to the toilet, for him, is such a big turn off that he felt compelled to dump her the next day. At this I tried to tell him that perhaps his reaction was quite extreme and maybe he had been a little harsh (poor girl!). Having said this I still felt the need to apologise in the name of all women. Not sure I would ever tell a boyfriend my toilet habits but I made a mental note not to refer to this in any way ever again. To make up for Ashleigh’s let down of ‘team girl’ I attempted to reassure James that most girls never go for poos or fart for that matter - we are far too cleanly! In much the same way we girls don't sweat whilst on the cross trainer, we glow. Our James isn’t the brightest crayon in the tin (though he sure does look great in a wife beater & sweatpants!) but I wasn’t sure he fell for my attempts to reinstate women as the pinnacle of hygiene!


Thought of the day: "The limits of my words are the limits of my world" Ludwig Wittgenstein

A dawning realisation that I am indeed cheap :(

Sitting across from Anna at the kitchen table I swirled the contents of my cup. “Do you think we are getting old before our time?” I casually asked. “Is this about the weekend again?” Anna sighed, “I know I am possibly the only person we know that has ever been thrown out of a nightclub for falling asleep in the corner, but can we please stop going on about it!” “No it’s not that,” I replied attempting to conceal a big grin, “It’s the fact that here we are making a list of things to do before we reach the big three-oh and number one just happens to be ‘Dress up as old person in wheelchair and carer to sneak into Old Hollywood showing at cinema.’ And why do we want to do this? Because you get OAP rates and an intermission with tea and biscuits.” Anna just laughed, “That doesn’t necessarily mean we are turning senile, just that we are cheap! I’ll do anything for a freebie.” At this I had to agree as it comes from the girl who, much to my embarrassment, will only ever order water, that’s tap water in restaurants when we go out for a meal (and has never before in her life despite living the high life mostly on the tips she receives!). Once the waiter apologised but said they were only able to sell us bottled water at which point Anna turned round to point out, for the whole of the restaurant to hear, that it is actually illegal not to sell tap water. Who would know that for heaven’s sake?

At first I inwardly dismissed Anna's claims about my cheap nature. In fact I totally resented being tarred with the same brush as a tap-water-orderer! Then as I began to mentally weigh up recent events I realised begrudgingly that Anna was completely right, as per usual. This was the thought process that led to a dawning realisation that I am indeed cheap:

> to a lash up at a friends house prior to a big nite out I brought along a bottle of lamrini - yes that is lambini as in what you drink on the street corner when you are 15. I should feel embarassed but its only £1.59 from the co-op down the road and is now available in a variety of flavours! This week might just be a peach week.
> I view a new boyfriend as a means of relieving current financial difficulties i.e. free meals out, drinks bought on nights out, lift home minus taxi fair etc etc.
> When most people ladder their tights they curse and throw them in the bin whereas I am quite pleased to have aquired a new hair tie. Just think how many hair ties you can fashion form an old pair of cut up tights!
> cash points that charge (cheeky buggers!) are not used full stop. I tell myself that this is just a priniciple even if I have to walk half way across town - in a slightly worse for wear state - for the next nearest available one

A great big hug in a mug

I went to lunch with Heather today and was met me with her usual air kiss routine. I reckon you can tell a lot about a person from the way they greet you and Heather’s definitely reflects her general character. Her displays never fail to look oh so very sophisticated, but I’m always left feeling a bit cold and inadequate by the end of it and I'm not really quite sure why! I think it is because I'm more of a hug person myself. I love it when a guy gives you a really strong hug as it can just make you feel so special & protected. Or alternatively the casual one-armed embrace where he pulls you all close that just says I'm really comfortable around you. The man to man (usually congratulatory) hug is great as well: the initial embrace & then the hearty couple of back slaps - amazing!

Having said all this you can get really awful limp hugs which just leave me deflated. An old friend used to hug me this way and I just knew she wasn’t to be trusted! Her arms drape around you barely touching & her head swings out the way as she juts it over your shoulder. I used to feel like turning to her and saying, “Look love I'm not trying to kiss you I just wanted to say hello, but maybe I just won't bother next time.” What I want is a great big hug in a mug just like in those cuppa-soup adverts (although maybe minus the hairy blue arms & the face stroking because after all that’s just weird)! Heather and I usually get locked in a greeting war as after I have been through her air kiss ritual, I tend to try and snare her in a hug as well. What I tend to go for (depending on who is the recipient of course) is the embrace & then the friendly and comforting back rub. I find major hug errors which one should avoid at all costs involve the length of hug. Never hold on for too long because this just ends up really awkward & embarrassing for all involved as the other person pulls away and you just won’t let them –eek! Also burrowing in & loudly sniffing the other persons hair is not advised either as this is just stalker-ish & weird (unless you have been invited of course!) If someone pulls away you might not want to go in for the hug-kill either - perhaps they just don't want to touch you or you have a bit of a body odour issue!