Always Time For A Rant....

So. I bit the bullet, and dyed my hair (kind of nice). Had a facial (very nice). Had my haircut. (Massive, MASSIVE mistake. Huge). Literally, I have just plucked myself from the fug of a hair cut trauma induced cloud. It's not as bad as I'm making out. Well, yes, it is to me, but essentially, its a nice haircut. Just too short for me, and I look like a lego head. But the response from all others (including, nay, championed by) the boy, has been positive. So much so, in fact, that there was a collective booing from assembled friends last night when I turned up sporting my hair extensions. Friends are ace and I'm lucky to have so many good ones. But a haircut you hate, undeniably, is so soul destroying. But worse things happen at sea, like....

.....a veiled dig in the Sunday Times Style section about "lazy bloggers." We're on the "going down" list because apparently, "if they're not updating every day, we're blogging off." Well, Sunday Times Style Feature Writer,( henceforth known as STSFW) unlike yourself, some of us have FULL TIME JOBS. Which may well be boring/aimless/pointless/useless and totally underpaid, but notwithstanding all these things, remain to be FULL TIME JOBS. So whilst STSFW may be getting paid to scribble, I am not. (and don't I know it.) Ergo, coupled with the fact that, once removing the 8 hours of the day I am paid to stand around, there are precious few hours left to do anything, or at least, be inspired to do anything, so whilst I refuse to give my reader less than my best, I can't bear to write a half baked blog post. Which means, essentially, there simply aren't enough hours in the day to actually do all the things I want, cos if there were, I would write this blog endlessly. But I can't. So I don't. And that, STSFW, is LIFE. And that's that.

Rant over. I can feel the steam coming out of my ears slowly but surely. Last night I painted the town with some friends after a particularly Indie flavoured SingStar championship (I am slowly learning to relinquish Spandau's "Gold" as the only feasible song I can sing, but I do love it so. Another featured highlight was Buggles 1980 smash "Video Killed The Radio Star", which is always a party pleaser). So yes. We went out eventually...No photographic evidence exists, but suffice to say, the ladies (Me, Sarah, and Chrissie...Holly was MIA due to a tummy bug) brought the bling...Sarah looked hawt in a navy mini (bum-flashingly short, but she has a figure to die for so it was acceptable) which she teamed with grey tights and kicky black shoes, plus very immaculate makeup. Chrissie added a touch of sparkle in a pretty sequinned vest with sexy skinnies and cute little shoes (borrowed from Holly, so she was kinda there in spirit) and I wore a pair of high waisted peg leg trousers, with a slouchy white tee tucked in, and patent pink courts (medium heel, so maximum danceability). These were put to the test when a pair of mardy miscreants tried to coerce Chrissie and me to the dancefloor....er, see you later, random dancing gentlemen.

I suppose I could wrap up my blog post with a little "must do better" note to myself...but to spite the face of STSFW, I shan't. I will blog when I can, just as you read when you can, and that's just the way it is. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to scream into the nearest pillow. Ciao!
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