A Life In The Day of Stupidgirl

Everyday I try to think of a topic for my blog so that I have something to write about when I get home. But today I am stumped. Even though there is tons going on in the news - G20 summit/trustafarians rioting/Obama visiting london/me having jam sarnies for dinner - none of these are particularly inspiring. I do have a very special kind of lethargy when it comes to public interest stories and high brow news. I know the news is out there, I'd just rather not get involved. Perhaps I'm a lib dem politician?

Anyway I thought I'd rip off the Sunday Time Magazine column, and give you A Life In the Day Of.... Stupidgirl. Which will most likely be tedious, self-obsessed but definitely fat free.

6am Most mornings SB's sodding crackberry alarm goes off every 10mins from 6am, waking not only him, but scaring the living shit out of me and causing me to wake up at least an hour before I need to drag my lazy ass out of bed. I doze on and off repeatedly until around 7am when I crawl into the bathroom and perform the neccessary ablutions. Although I've been a fully blown slave to the wage for several years now, I still can't get used to the ridiculous hours. Who decided a working day should begin at 9am? Someone who doesn't get up early that's who.

9am After spending approx 45mins travelling underground crammed into a strange man's armpit and running through various tube stations in 4 inch heels, I arrive at work. I have had various working hours in my *career* so far, but none of them compare to when I went to school in the City and got up everyday at 6:30 am AS A TEENAGER. Surely this constituted child abuse. In fact having to travel on 4 different tube lines twice a day should have been made illegal and given me higher grades in my A-levels purely for the torture of travelling to and from school.

I digress. Once at work, I settle down to my working day yadda yadda yadda. Again, it seems unwise to discuss work on a massively public forum LIKE THE INTERNET WHERE ANYONE CAN READ IT. I have put this in caps for the foolish people who do write about their jobs on their blog.

Midday This is where frantic wedding planning commences. For 45mins I cram the neccessary faffing and emailing and phone calling for one of the biggest days of my life into this short amount of time. More crucially lunchtime also involves a heavy amount of maths: X + X for lunch = few enough calories to allow me to fit into my wedding dress but, enough calories to fill me up until dinner and avoid the 4pm chocolate run. Which doesn't help the wedding diet AT ALL. Today's wedding tasks were informing the hotel of the menu we wish to *taste* on our next visit up there. I know this is tediously boring for any readers, but hey its my blog. In fact in addition to the tedium, I have also completed my info sheets which involved lots of buggering around with the print settings on Word Vista (which is surprisingly awkward to use) but very satisfying when all done.

6pm Home time, freedom. GYM TIME. Its like out of the frying pan into the fire. After a hard day at work, all i want to do is come home and mutate into a giant human slug. Flannel pjs, plate of pasta, tellybox and Facebook. BUT NO. The gym fairy demands that I go to the gym. And when I argue, she plants a picture of my FAT ASS covered in skin tight ivory satin into my head. Its very effective motivation. The highlight of my trip to the gym is trying to see how much cheesy music I can cram into my time on the cross torturer. Madonna is a current favourite but I really have to try hard not to sing along - although given where I live, I am one of the more normal crazy people. Apart from the usual reasons why the gym is crap, for some reason my gym appears to also be a pick up joint. Particularly the mats area. I know, bendy women + minimal lycra+ tiny bit of sweat is sexy but...... not while I am trying to work out. It's annoying. (I may have a slight touch of jealousy here) And lots of laughing prevents me from hearing my Madonna song correctly on my ipod and then I lose my place mouthing along with her words. Grrrrrr.

8pm Finally, finally relaxation. Except this is where the guilt hits. The flat normally looks like a clothes + tesco bomb has hit it. And I really should clear up. And make dinner for SB as he works such inhumane hours and can go MONTHS without seeing daylight during the week. But I don't. I come here and slave away over this blog (aka chat on Facebook for 2 hours and intermittently put some words on here). Finally when I realise I have rambled on long enough I go to bed.

11pm Bed. Book. Duvet. Until SB strolls in around midnight. And then I go to sleep. Before the whole thing starts again. Its like groundhog day. Without Bill Murray. Which makes my day about a billion times better. I hate that movie.

Anyway I hope that little blog post has been massively informative for you and helped you all to be better people. Thank you and goodnight

Stupidgirl has left the building