Here's me and a couple of monkeys I used to live with at Uni - in case you can't tell it's from a May Ball (poss. 2001?) My hair is a bit longer now, and I am a little more pale and round. Don't ask me what I'm doing with my teeth, I have no clue.

And yes, I was drunk.

Despite the obvious cruelty to animals issue I'm putting this tight pussy pic back up on my profile cos I love it so much. It's not my cat, after all.

That's my cat. Our rather, the cat that lives at my parents house.

So, The Boyf has gone. He went at midnightish so it hasn't really sunk in that he's left yet. Last time he went early in the morning before I left for work and that was much worse.

Emma Upstairs called him inconsiderate last night (cos he took her bedsheets out of the tumble drier as they weren't drying, and put them on the washing line. Where they did.) which is akin to saying Mother Theresa was 'a bit selfish'. The Boyf is one of those ppl who finds it impossible to say no, and will do anything for anyone (sometimes to my annoyance and inconvenience, but then I get to sleep with him every night so shouldn't grumble) he even apologised to her afterwards and then felt even more upset cos he knew he'd tried to do the right thing.

Okay, it wouldn't be so annoying if she wasn't so inconsiderate herself. Will discuss all her faults some time in the future, am too pissed off now.

Just sent out my birthday plan email to my mates and sis so they all know what to do/wear/bring on Sat. Am soooooooo excited. Pathetic.

Also, in honour of my birthday I have taken the entire week off next week, so it's unlikely I'll blog at all. I might mooch into an internet caff at some point to pick up my mail, so may leave a short missive then. We'll see. Suppose it depends if anything actually happens to me. This damn things a jinx, nothing of any interest has taken place since I began!

Can't remember who's blog I found this on, but they really deserve all my sweeties. Am crying with laughter!

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I can't ditch one and go for the other, cos that'd be out of the frying pan really - if I was seeing N I would be having (a much more successful!) affair avec Le Boyf. I could ditch him and just try being on my own for a bit tho (this has led to disaster in the past tho) I suppose what I need to do is bite the bullet and say to The Boyf 'you know when I told you I didn't like N anymore? Well, that was bollox.' He knows we've kissed, tho not how often.

No cure for cognitive dissonance - I'm going to concentrate on The Bar, my voddy and dancing my pants off to that crappy R Kelly song.

Woo-hoo! Friday! I have the whole of next week off!

Hmm. Everyone's fucked off somewhere. Will they notice if I leave now?

Can feel myself starting to get excited, which is only going to lead to disappointment. In a last ditch attempt at sanity I called the Boyfs Sis and asked her to come out too, but tomorrow is her night out (obvs, for my incredible birthday bash) and she's got four kids and a husband so can't just drop everything. She's 28. Bless her.

Well, the only answer is not to get drunk.

How hard can this be?

....just go on about me a bit more.

Is it very wrong that I've got over this sudden surprise so quickly? I don't mind that The Boyf is attracted to other people, because if he wasn't that would be freaky and weird. I also don't mind that he is a helpless and unashamed drunk, because I am too. We are as bad (or as good, depending) as each other. We've certainly done a lot for each other, to see where we are now compared to this time last year is almost unbelievable. I don't doubt for one second he is in love with me, and I'm certain in my belief that I love him. Please see my previous comments about Raj Persaud and his big bucket of love. Now there's a movie...

I just have the unerring feeling that if I chucked it all away it would be a massive mistake. It's like that bit in Wuthering Heights about the moors or whatever it is. Her love for Heathcliff is like the 'rocks beneath' (is that right? along those lines) and everyone else is like that slippery grass that grows on top (or is that just where I'm from? You know the sort, with the sheep poo in it) and is merely transitory. What am I talking about? God. It's too hot for rational thought.

So to sum up. I am a twat. The Boyf has also revealed self to be twat, and has apologised for twattishness. I have not admitted to anything, as nothing has really taken place, except in my fevered imagination. I have not forgiven boyf in order to have the upper hand in any future arguments, I think that is pathetic and wrong (oh my god, a moral. Didn't know I had any.) I will also continue to defend Emma Upstairs to my mates (who know nothing of what has happened, T only knows me and The Boyf 'had a very bad fight' and does not think it's about N as she said 'but you haven't liked N for ages!' [bless blogging] and I said ''no it's not about him'), as I have of course to forgive her too and understand why she hasn't told me. I'm not doing all this to seem like a lovely person and for everyone to go 'how noble' - I'm doing it because that's the way I would hope my friends would treat me.

*steps gingerly down from soapbox*

The funny thing is, if I couldn't come and type all this up and really scrutinise it all by myself, I would be taking it all out on other people.

20six, I salute you.

Or is this?

Am quite frankly astounded that I just got that to work. Now may not be the time to reveal I work in IT*.

Have sounded well mis. and been navel gazing for the last few posts, so am resolving to not talk about boys for AT LEAST the next, say, three entries. On this page.

Our new boy started work today (aw, shit. Okay, not talking about boys I have had dalliances with) which was exciting. He has the swishest car possible, so the guy at the agency was obvs telling the truth when he said he had a famous brother (well, of course he would buy him a car wouldn't he?) This is meant to be top secret, but I naturally told everyone in the office, so when Margie arrived (can't be arsed now with only letters as names, it gets too confusing) she immediately shrieked and asked him for his autograph. Which was only slightly cringeworthy. He took it well I think. You may take bets on whose brother he is, it's pretty funny.

Other than that, no news. I may melt before the day is up, tho have ordered more fans from the lovely scottish woman who rings me every week to ask if I need any stationery. Which I never do, as I replaced an obvious mentalist who has left me with over 15,000 envelopes, 300 pens and an uncountable number of plastic wallets. She just must have kept re-ordering them. Could probably set up my own Viking-esque catalogue on the side.

Have convinced our FD that we need a qualified first aider, and that it should be me. So. Should I do the expensive course here in Royal Berkshire, or should I do the cheapy course in London (which is exactly the same, four day, First Aid at Work thing) and claim back my travel? Am v. tempted by London as then can swan about and say things like 'I couldn't possibly come out for a drink tomorrow, I'm on a course in London, you know, The Capital...' Always amazes me I know my way round London better than my mates, who only live 20 mins away for god's sake. I went down for the millenium avec Uni Boyf et al, and as the tube pulled into the station one of the Essex girls said 'ooo, I bet you've never seen a tube train before have you?'. Withering glance is simply not the phrase. Having said that, I mooched around The Oracle (caution blown completely to the wind now) avec T and My Sis during the bday w/end and T said 'ooo, I bet you've never been anywhere like this before have you?'' The Oracle is a shopping mall about half the size of Meadowhall. My Sis wisely said nothing. Southerners. Idiots.

Can I get away with another day of doing absolutely fuck-all? This does appear to be the profession of all office-dwelling monkeys these days. Our tech support guy finished The Order of The Pheonix (is that right?) in two days the other week. Would like to say this is as our product is so good it has no need for an IT helpdesk (which is, after all, manned by only one bloke) but I suspect it's more that no-one has heard of it. Right, back to it - I have the treasures of the internet to unearth before 5.30.

*Middleware. Yawn.