Burning the candle at both ends

The past week has been a manic flurry of social activities, and this week will be no different. I have every faith that by Friday night I shall be dead.

The highlights of this past week include:

Seeing old friends who I haven't seen for years

Leicester Square New Comedian of the Year Final

St John Ambulance Presentation Evening

The jewel in the crown was definitely seeing Wacky, Pap and Biles again. You know you're talking about people you grew up with when you refer to them by derivatives of their surnames. James (Biles) in particular I haven't seen for certainly a few years, I may have seen Wacky and Pap more recently, but it was awesome to be hanging out and chatting with them again, like old times. It's clear they've all become much closer over the years too, which is lovely, there's some proper brotherly love going on there.

This was all at Lorraines birthday party, she invited me on Thursday having suddenly realised was a Northernite. I met Lol through some friends in college. It was a rather lovely cocktail bar called the Albert and Pearl in Islington. Jo and I turned up just before 9pm and it was strange....and refreshing.....to be surrounded by people who were pretty blotto (not Lol's mates I hasten to add)...I don't know what time they'd started, and whether the A&P has a happy hour, but if they do then these guys had been taking full advantage. One young lady got up from outside to go back in and just staggered around and fell to her knees. There was a distinct thudding sound, she seemed relatively ok, but I bet she had some nasty bruises and some trouble walking when the alcohol-induced anaesthetic-fug wore off the next day. Her mate made a gallant attempt at preserving her integrity by yelling 'that's what you get for waering stupid shoes!'.....no.....she can't hold herself upright my dear.

We supped a couple of lovely cocktails, Summer Breeze and Long Island Iced Tea, supped them slowly, I find most cocktail bars to be a rip off! But we wanted to have some cocktails instead of the normal pints we're downing. After a couple we decided we'd wander off and look for somewhere slightly cheaper, and with seats! Yes, we're old ladies, all we wanted was a nice comfy chair!

Eventually we found ourselves in The Library, a quaint little place....book-themed. We peered through the window to check out the seating situation, and the bouncer kindly identified a small empty table by the bar for us. Back on the lager-beer! Now Jo and I had, uncharacteristically, made a little bit of effort that night. Whilst I'd replaced the printed tee with a nice white asymmetrical top and swapped the St John issue boots for ballet type shoes, Jo had dusted off the heels, put a necklace on, and donned a nice 'boobies out' bra. It might not sound like much, but if you know us, you'll know it's extravagance. We might even have had some nice chappies come up and talk to us.....had we not been slumped grumpily over our beers. Posture is important, it really is, but the temptation to lean on the convenient table was all too much.

As it was, a couple of blokes did come over, one clearly off his tits...and he wasn't a nice drunk, he was an obnoxious one! At one point he grabbed a hairband of mine and yelled 'Stick your finger out!' When I hesitated he yelled again 'stick your fucking finger out!!!'. At which point I told him just how lovely and charming he was. I eventually relented and stuck my finger out, whereupon he proceeded to try some kind of trick where the hairband flicks from my finger to his. It was less than impressive. The other bloke was nicer, and didn't seem quite so drunk, until he suddenly turned white as a sheet and started gulping and looking down in the manner of someone who expects to vomit in the immediate future.

After a trip to the toilet and a very bad joke told by our intoxicated friend, and very possibly disgusted by our lack of overt interest, they bimbled off.

Jo and I had one more pint and headed for the nightbus, it being too late to catch the last tube. It was at this point that we realised what the fabled 'beer-jacket' is for, we were FREEZING our tits off, this would never have happened had we been drunk! In a feeble attempt to warm ourselves up we grabbed some chips and started the walk to the N38 stop. The N38 is not something to be experienced unless you're a little bit merry that's just some advice from me to you dear people.

In other fab nights out, well done to Rob Beckett who won Leicester Squares London Comedian of the Year. It was a tough competition, I'd seen about half of the finalists before, and the ones I hadn't seen before were equally excellent. I did very much like Tanya and Sarah's sets, and of course, George Ryegold was as hilarious as ever. The whole atmosphere was really supportive and feel-good, anyone who was anyone was there dahling!

The aftermath included staying in Waxy's Little Sister until it closed, and then onto the good old Royal George afterwards. Jo and I got a little overexcited at one point when I mistook the time and thought we could make it home in time to call Mr Domino's. I'm a little concerned at just HOW excited we were, and Jo was very upset when she realised my mistake and that our dreams had been shattered. It turned out to be Western Fried Chicken for the FTW!! They do a mean chicken burger.

So....fun fun. Another week of joy lays ahead. I'm seeing lovely Kayleigh tonight, things are looking up for her which is fantastic, new home, soon-to-be-healed foot! Tomorrow is Party Piece, Jo is on and Linda is coming by to scope it out, after all the fuss we've made. Wednesday Nicki and I are seeing The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassuss at the Electric. It's all go go go, and I would like some sleep please. Dragging myself out of bed is bad enough at this time of year when it's still dark.

Hope you all have simply wonderful weeks :o) xx

Worky work work

People are always telling me this....one day I'll get away with it.

An ex boyfriend of mine once reliably informed me that if you are stuck out in the cold and need to share body heat to get warm then you do...in fact...need to be completely naked for it to work efficiently. This was after he'd taken me to the country park at midnight and stolen my bus pass.....I'm not sure what he was hoping to achieve, we'd only been seeing each other a week.

Minor catch-up in the life of Becki....everything is going simply swimmingly at the moment! Close friends will know that things at work are picking up! I've been in my role of 'Operations Officer/Estates and Laboratory Management Team Member' for about 3 years now. When I asked about the chance of progression at my interview (having reassured Bruce that I wasn't after his job) I was faced with much umming and ahhing and told that there are no definite lines of progression. I didn't really mind this too much at the time, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do or how long I would stay, so I was just happy to take the job and figure it out from there.

Turns out that UCL sucks you in, it sucks you in and never spits you out. There are people I work with who studied for their BSc's here and never left, they've been a round for nigh on 40 years! I admire that kind of dedication, and if you're enjoying your job then it's fantastic, but after a while you do tend to fall into one of 3 categories:

1) Happy but stagnating

2) Stagnating and institutionalised

3) Flexible and happy

Some people are happy to continue doing the job they're doing forever and that's cool. Some people are resigned to the fact that they have been and will be doing the same job forever, but have been here so long that the thought of getting a job elsewhere is too much effort, or far too scary. And (I know, never start a sentence with an 'and', I'm a rule breaker, get over it), some people have the balance, a place like UCL changes over time, you've gotta move with the times instead of standing stubbornly in the past. UCL is proud of it's past, but as Darwin knew, evolution is inevitable, evolve or die. Some people (the minority and usually the ones who don't take themselves too seriously) can do this. My lovely Lindar is one of them...technician/reasearch assistant.....admin/estates...immunohistochemist, and she's still very happy, will be happier soon, but I'll leave that there for now.

I was in danger of becoming a number 1) *snort*, I think. I very much enjoy my job, the people around me make it for me, I was happy pootling along doing my thang. I like to think that at some point I'd have woken up and thought 'hang on, where did the last ten years go?' but this place sings you a lullaby and it can be 30 years before you know it!

Anyway, recently things have been changing a bit, I've been taken under a wing so to speak, there is exciting training coming up which will adorn me with a qualification that I can take anywhere I like, I'm being mentored and all of a sudden there are 'meetings'. What are they, pray tell?

Climbing the greasy pole is a bit of a mixed blessing I think I'll find, the higher up you get, the less friends you can afford to have. I had a meeting with a gentleman quite high up in Estates recently and he asked me where I want to take my career, and I was quite honest when I said, 'I didn't know what I wanted to do when I was 15 and they sat me down to fill in a silly quiz which promised to tell me excatly what I should do when I grew up, and I don't really know now, but at the moment this feels right to me and we'll see where it takes me'. I'm still young, and if I find that this isn't for me then that's fine, there will be plenty of other opportunities.

In case you were wondering, that quiz told me I was best suited to being a Fish Farmer.

Stop reading if you have a weak stomach

I just found this fantastic poem,

My Friend

When you are sad,
I will get you drunk and help you plot revenge against the evil bastard who made you sad.

When you are blue...,
I'll try and dislodge whatever is choking you.

When you smile....,
I'll know you finally got laid.

When you are scared,....
I'll take the piss about it every chance I get.

When you are worried,....
I'll tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining

When you are confused,....
I will use little words to explain it to your dumb ass

When you are sick,...
Stay the hell away from me until you're well again.
I don't want whatever you have.

When you fall,...
I will point and laugh at you

This reminds me of you Jo! And the choking bit, St John Ambulance....so apt!

I love that we spew each others advice right back at each other when the tables of our lives turn, we're both as psycho as each other at the end of the day. I'm glad I've found my partner in crime!! You're my favourite and I loves loves loves you!

One day we'll listen to each other, that day can't be too far off....can it??

Thanks for being the best :o) xxx

'A friend is one who knows us, but loves us anyway' Jerome Cummings

Too bloody true!

Text of the Day

I'm out with my wonderful mate Mark tonight, I was texting him this morning to find out if others were joining us or not. After telling him I was muchly looking forward to the evening and that I loved him and would see him later he sent me this:

'Me too! Enjoy the rest of your day at work, I shall be building a fort and masturbating for most of the morning! See you later xx'

I offered him anonymity, but he declined, 'there is no shame in building a fort'

Sandwich HELL!!

After a particularly bad day in the office where everything had been going wrong and my boss was almost teraing his hair out....he decided to go and treat himself to an Upper Crust baguette to fill his tum and soothe his nerves.

The next thing I knew he was swearing and ranting at his savoury meal, where was the butter?? Where was it? It's a spiel I've heard a few times, but this time, oh.....this time he was writing a strongly worded email, oh yes. The Columbus group who own the Upper Crust chain were getting the brunt of pent-up sandwich frustration:

Dear Compass Group,

I am moved to contact you having just bought a cheddar and tomato baguette from the Upper Crust outlet in the UCL (University College London) canteen. The statement on your webpage says it all: "No additional butter or spread is added - just fresh....". My question is: Why is no butter or spread added? This seems to be something of a commonplace approach to sandwich making in some of the "cheaper" outlets around. Why on earth would anyone other than serial dieters want a sandwich without a bit of butter?

As a complete amateur who has made himself a sandwich or two in his time, let me explain. A bit of butter spread on the bread serves at least two important functions: 1) It provides a bit of lubrication to help the otherwise dry, rough bread down. 2) It helps prevent the water in the tomato soaking into the bread turning it into a doughy mush. 3) (yes, I though of another!) It adds a bit of welcome extra flavour. If I could let every sandwich bar know how I feel I would, but I have to start somewhere. There, rant over!

Actually, the baguette wasn't that bad. But for the sake of a pen'orth of butter and a few seconds effort, it could have been so much better. Thanks for your time.

Bruce

Loving it....take that Columbus Group!

Oh My Lol

Jo.........this is just for you dahling, you're my brain holder-inner!!

Image cred: ICHC

MishMash

I find myself physically and mentally exhausted after a tough evening yesterday, for full details (and photographic evidence) of the 'Big Clean' you must visit Ogs Blog....for a laugh if nothing else. Yes, Ogs and I spent nigh on 3 hours last night performing a thorough deep clean of her flat. Housework not being a favoured pastime of the masses, let alone for Jo and I, I feel I now need to explain our twisted actions.

Jobie has been in her flat in the Stow for seven or eight years now and I think she's got to the point where she wants to upgrade, move onto something new and a bit exciting. I'm in a situation where, as I'm travelling for 3 months next year, I'll be moving back in with the folks before I leave and living there for as long as necessary when I get back. As I'm sure I've said before in a previous post, I love my parents to bits, but this won't last long if I have to move in for an extended period of time.

As such, Ogs and Sprogs find themselves in something which could turn out to be a win win situation! If Jobie finds a nice little 2-bed place (lovenest-place-lovenest) then I can rent the second bedroom and Jobie cuts her costs! Jo has more money, I don't have to harrass my mother and father to within an inch of their sanity.....and we both get to live with our best mate!

Of course there are the obvious hurdles. I turned to Jo the other day with a concerned look on my face and asked:

'But Jo.....what about when one of us gets married??'

At which point we creased up in laughter......ok, maybe that's not such a massive hurdle after all.

We have already agreed on a few House Rules:

1) In order to maintain friendship, Ogs and Sprogs need a dishwasher. One loads ones own washing up into the dishwasher and when it is full, dishwasher goes on. Under NO circumstances must one put dirty washing up into a dishwasher full of clean crockery due to laziness.

2) When we get chikinz, they will look like this:

Soz Ogs, I know it's not the same one...I couldn't find the pikture!

3) Becki's shit stays in Becki's room. I'm not referring to actual, you know, faeces, there is a time and a place for that. I shall be living in Og's house, no matter how I might like to dress it up to potential man-shapes, and therefore I shall do my utmost to refrain from creating a front-room reminiscent of a Becki-themed psychotic episode. I shall not soil my own room, nor set fire to anything....but there is a chance it shall be a tad.....unkempt. I shall sleep naked and without bedcovers, sans routine, in order to prevent Jo peeking in on the untidyness too frequently. It's for her own good.

4) Men......we haven't quite decided what will happen here, though I suspect that if I think he is no good for her I shall glare at him over breakfast and then accidentally spear his face with a screwdriver whilst doing some 'DIY'. I'm sure Jo is not as cruel and would simply cover him in jam and let Mornington love him to death.

Whatever happens, I'm sure we won't remain single for long...............*cough*

5) No farting if we're expecting company within the hour, no missing the toilet.

I shall post up new rules as and when we come up with them.

Criteria for our lovenest originally included a pony paddock and underground dungeon, however, we were disappointed that most properties seemed only to offer one or the other....or neither.....never both. You can't have a pony paddock without the dungeon, it's just not right.

So, we decided to settle for a garden and a shed, where we shall hold captive unsuspecting victims. Feeding them up until they're too obese to move unaided, at which point we'll take them out for a roll around the garden. Yes, we HAVE actually discussed all this, it's a plan Batpeople.

SO, to take us back to the beginning, the reason Jo and I were scrubbing our hands raw last night is because an Estate Agent was coming to value the flat tonight.....

AND THE BASTARD HASN'T TURNED UP!!

I frigging hate estate agents.....what tossers

Now I've got that out of my system I need to rush off and do my hair.....make the bed and get an early night ready for a horrendously early morning with Toast Masters (more about that tomorrow I expect)

Image cred: lolhome.com