Evidently whilst your parents were not allowing you to speak they were also not teaching you basic rules of grammar and the English language.

On ment

Whilst I have not seen 'The Invention of Lying' and I really have no desire to do so either the premise certainly appeals. I often go through my day thinking about how lovely it would be to not have apply any social filter system and say exactly what I'm thinking.

I imagine my day would go somewhat like this:

To commuters:

Could you either get out of my way or throw yourself in to the path of this oncoming tube please because you really are walking unnecessarily slow.

To the school children on the train:

Could you act your age and stop discussing politics and start discussing whether you should let your flex bang you at the weekend please?

To people in general:

You've told me this story. Twice. Please shut up. And I'm less interested now then I was the first time you told me. And I was pretty disinterested at the outset.

or

Right. From what you've just said I'm inferring some sort of nefarious, underhand agenda here. Could you just tell me what it is you're getting at and then I'll be less confused and you'll be less angry with me for being confused? Ta.

Obviously the best bit would be commenting on facebook status' of people who I am unable to cull as I see them that little bit too often and the whole situation would just be awkward (I did once have someone ask why I unfriended them. My flawless argument was: Errrrrrrrrr). I am often tempted to comment upon status' of the most cretinous of acquaintances who insist on posting the minutiae of their day or those who ask rhetorical questions. I was very close to writing just yesterday evening under a status of someone asking if she looked like a mug confirming that yes, she does look like a mug. As opposed to looking for confirmation from Facebook perhaps she should ask her boyfriend. Or commenting on someone wondering where their boyfriend was that he was probably out fucking the office totty because the sun has driven him to distraction. But alas, I can not. So I am left blogging about it instead.

Obviously there are certain people with whom there is no filter. Although sometimes I am with someone who I do not filter with and others are present who are unaware of my foul mouth and malcontent attitude.

Case in point:

Sat with a friend slagging off a loser man who won't take the hint

Me - He should just fuck off. Someone needs to take him aside quietly and say look mate you've managed to get balls deep in her once, be thankful for that and realise it was an indiscretion on her part and chalk that one up to the wank bank.

Unfortunately her boyfriend was sat beside me. I'd say there was a look of horror but that would be an understatement. I think once he'd got over the initial shock though he took it in the manner it was intended....

Trop Cher

It has been an expensive month. Back to Topshop I go with all my sale purchases....

J'aime t'aimer bébé

Along with devouring the weekend newspapers one of my other favourite weekend past times is reading the date section of the Guardian Weekend magazine. You know the one, where they go out on a date and then report back and give each other a score of 10. My favourites are the ones where someone gets an abominably low score ("He was half an hour late") or a massively high score ("9 or 9.5 depending on what she said about me"). I love extremes (this also lends itself to the restaurant section. There has been a great run lately in the Guardian where restaurants have been getting 0.05/10 - I didn't think this was EVEN possible).

It therefore naturally follows that I very much enjoy reading the Guardian Soulmates page in the Guide on a Saturday. I'm not looking and if I was I'd be doing a rubbish job of keeping it from MonsieurB seeing as I sit beside him blatantly reading them and sighing from time to time at the forced kerazyness of the writers.

The real reason I read them is I like to imagine the sort of person who has written it. Sometimes some are so good that I can imagine exactly the kind of life they lead. It's like a novel in my head with some help from real life. It's only fair that I share some choice ones (and I have taken them from the Guide - I promise).

Fun, anarchic, happy, aware guy, 45, diagnosed with non Hodgkins lymphoma, seeks angel, 35-55, to walk at his side for the journey ahead

or

I really, really, really don't want to die alone. (This one actually made me incredibly sad)

Nick Cave seeks PJ Harvey. Dark haired M, 43, indie alternative type, in to music, gigs, film, art & culture, WLTM sim

or

I know who Nick Cave is! And PJ Harvey! I'm cool! Don't let me be that loner, older man at gigs who is lost in the music.

A new decade, a new start. Divorced bear of a man, 44, seeks smiling, gorgeous girl to share hugs & kisses with

or

I was that bloke at the New Year's Eve party slurring at 9pm and telling everyone how his bitch ex wife left him for the gardener and how it'd really fuck her off if I ended up with a fitter, younger model. Because did I mention my ex wife is a bitch?

Un-adventurous, hill walking wino WLTM mellow stir fried, double-digging girl for nature musing, home-grown, triple-glazed, wool insulated future

or

I'm a bona fide pisshead. So much so I couldn't even be bothered to sober up to write this.

Lonely leftie (non-Blairite) widower, seeks soulmate in East Devon

or

Gordon! If that election goes tits up leave Sarah for me. Call me.

But it would be unfair of me to only lampoon the M seeking F. Easy, but unfair. I'll be honest, the ratio of random men's posts versus that of the ladies is off the scale. Every so often you get some good ones but they're thin on the ground. But for the sake of balance (I am, after all a person that believes in equality between the sexes) it's only fair I put up the ONE random women's ad I could find:

Slim Ldn F, 60, no house, car, TV or religion, but loves music, books, art & nature, seeks sim misfit to share ints & life

or

I'm homeless and totally fucked for money.

Malmaison

Moving house MademoiselleB?

Kinda. It's down Imaginary Lane which is just off You Will Probably Be Able To Afford This Shit In The Year 3000 Crescent.

That's a long road name.

Yeah. The house is in Wales.

Ahh. Seen.

Visage

From time to time I become listless and disinterested in my surroundings to the point that I just don't speak. I stop talking because I wonder what I could add to whatever is going on around me. There is no reason for such listlessness and it is indiscriminate in when it strikes but today is a case in point:

I have opened my mouth today on the following occasions;

1. To answer the telephone to clients (which I kinda have to do);
2. To accept cups of tea from colleagues (standard); and
3. To agree with my friend at lunch that her boyfriend is a total shit (he really is).

So other than 30 mins of conversation I have been silent because I just couldn't be arsed to make small talk.

I dealt with this earlier in the year by coming up with the phrase, positivity breeds positiveness, which isn't even English. This was accompanied with, well it could be worse - I could not have a face. This stemmed from the lady I the US who had her face ripped off by a chimp and then unveiled the salvaged mess on Oprah. It would not be unfair to say I spent a good 2 weeks showing people the photo off the Internet on social occsions piously reminding them that no matter how bad it gets at least they have their face. I even did this to new acquaintences at gigs. I won't lie. It did please me to see their horrified faces.

But now months have passed and I forget the poor lady's face. Until today.

Walking through the station I came across a man with such bad burns on his face that he had a plastic medical mask covering his face with a tube coming out of it allowing him to breathe. My can't be arsed to talk attitude suddenly seemed trivial and childish. So I'm not taller or a baller. Nor do I have a girl who looks good to call or rabbit in a hat but at least I have my face.

-- Posted from my iPhone

Demoralisé

Today was a bad day. So to cheer myself up I bought a book for £3 that is full of thrifty tips which has made me smile. And I have painted my nails orange to match the weather. Yay for 18 degree weekends.

And a new camera is now mine. Expect pinhole effect photos soon. Kisses.