What the hell is this blog.
It started out as doing good stuff to be a better me and it’s very rapidly deteriorated into doing stupid stuff to carry on being me.
I’ve been called a real-life Bridget Jones more times than I’d care to admit in the last few weeks, and I was refusing to accept the comparison until I started reading the plot summary on Wikipedia.
(I’ve made the necessary edits)
Bridget Jones is LS is 32 33.5 years old, single, very accident-prone, and worried about her weight.
works in publicity at a book publishing company in London recently quit her fantastic job working for an online retailer where her main focus is was fantasising about her boss, Daniel Cleaver. who cannot be named just in case being a Buddhist monk doesn’t work out and she desperately needs her job back.
I guess humans are just like elastic bands; no matter who you try to be, you’ll always snap back to being the real you.
Doin’ it for the fans
When I started writing a few months ago, I was indulging in texts on fair trade, the circular economy, organic produce, meditation, art and attempting to get my head around some basic political terminology. I was waking up every day wanting to expand my cranium and write about what I’d learned.
That is the real me and I am still doing all of that… but it seems that putting myself in dangerous situations, making an absolute idiot of myself on dates and ranting about irrational fears are what THE FANS want to read.
And yes, by fans, I’m referring to the 48 people who have been coerced into subscribing by email.
I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway
And it’s not just the WordPress stats that are telling me this.
I’ve actually had messages from friends I’ve not spoken to in years and been stopped in the corridor at work by people basically asking me to carry on being daft so they can enjoy reading about my absolute car crash of a life.
I think it’s only human that I do feel a tiny little bit offended by this.
I don’t deny that most of what I do is splattered with idiocy, but I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I have an IQ of 147 according to a dodgy online MENSA test and I totally stand by these completely illegitimate results.
But if this is what people want to read about, then absolutely no problem at all, one giant moron coming right up….
What most people do Monday to Friday is get up, get ready, go to work, be normal, come home….
What I seem to do is get up, put some fancy dress on, somehow make it into work, have a string of Loments and somehow make it home again.
My entrance into work of a morning is often described as a bull in a china shop and my presence is sometimes so overwhelming that I’m politely asked to hold my thoughts (i.e. just SHUT UP) until the morning coffee break. I’m normally overexcited about telling them how a magpie got stuck between my curtains and window this morning or how my scarf got caught in my bicycle wheel and nearly strangled me to death on the way in.
In fact, the term Loment, meaning Laurie Moment, was coined by one of my Tier One Colleagues – one of the unfortunate few who get front row seats to all of this on a daily basis.
Shut up please. I am very busy and important
Writing up my Loments would take me years, but there are a few that are probably worth a mention.
Like the time I had to present something to one our Board members in the Exec area – the kind of place that gives you breathing difficulties and a totally unnecessary inferiority complex. I was JUST about to totter around the corner in my heels when a lovely young girl stopped me in my tracks…
“You’ve got a little bit of toilet paper caught” , she said quietly.
I looked down at my shoes and shuffled from left to right before looking back up to meet her gaze with my puzzled frown. She did one of those quite sheepish, awkward smiles that aren’t really smiles and said “no…..there“…. pointing to the seven foot trail of toilet paper hanging out the back of my skirt.
Then there was the time I had another really important presentation, to put forward a benefits case for the product development solution I’d been working on for the past eighteen months.
I had the slide up on screen behind me and was confidently chatting through the figures until I paused momentarily to try and work out why they were all smirking at me. “I think you may have got your numbers a little muddled there?”…Yeah I think had, because £300k + £800k + £13 billion does not equal £2m.
(maths was never my forté)
I still can’t believe you said what you said
And then last but definitely not least there was the time we were on a team day out.
We’d been running around Liverpool City Centre for about four hours in the rain on one of those team-bonding treasure hunt type things, which I absolutely LOVED, but came away from looking like a drowned and disheveled rat.
While attempting to race from the car park to the bar for post-hunt drinks, I had a head-on collision with a boy who’d fallen victim to my dating about a year prior. I was so shocked and so nervous and so awkward, that all I could say was “we’re on a team day out….. we’re on a team day out ….. we’re on a team day out…..we’re on a team day out….we’re on a team day out…..we’re on a team day out”.
It was like when a gramophone pin gets stuck in one of the grooves. He looked at me with a pained expression, completely and utterly lost for words on how to respond to my lack of basic social skills.
So I did what anybody else would do to redeem themselves, and moonwalked backwards out of the carpark doing a silent goofy wave goodbye.
And that, Ladies and Gentleman, is why I’m still single.