Friday 13th is a breeze

Today is Friday the 13th. Unlucky for some? Well, I have no problem with today what so ever because tomorrow – Valentine’s Day – is so much worse.

I’m not gonna start ranting on about smug couples, lack of spontanaety, commercialism, expectations, disappointment, pressure and status labels… whoops, too late. Think I’ve made my point.

Funny Friday

It’s been a funny old day. It started at 7.30am by waking my buddy Absolute Gem up, who slept in my spare room last night after an evening of chilli-con-carne, wine and a semi-drunken discussion about chavs and snobs, while watching a TV documentary.

After dressing, piling on the slap and scoffing breakie, we headed south on the M1 to Toddington Services, where we totally failed in getting interesting video interviews for a work project. A wasted morning, although the bickering banter we captured while driving along the M1 was certainly mildly amusing.

Then it was lunch with two journo buddies. All three of us have a warped sense of humour and we spent the time rocking in our seats with laughter, tucking into some top eats and generally putting the world to rights.

After yesterday’s bad news, this is just the day I’ve needed – one spent laughing – and I’ve no doubt this will continue this evening at my friend’s pyjama party. This involves slobbing around in our jim-jams, eating comfort food, wearing no make-up and donning face masks while gossiping and guzzling wine.

As Bob Hoskins once said in the BT advert: “It’s good to talk.” But it’s even better to laugh.

Here’s some footage from the Toddington trip…

Ginger wine anyone?

Hoorah, it’s the weekend! At last. Most of mine will be dedicated to my CIPR research project, boo hoo, so tonight I’m going to get all my pent up energy out of my system… by getting plastered and throwing some shapes out. Not on my own, obviously, that would be sad.

Tonight three mates from volleyball are coming down from Leicester and my bro and his best mate (my adopted bro) are joining us from the Shire. The plan looks something like this:

• Head to Tesco after work to buy foot pump. Six people and two double beds means two people will have to slum it on my floor and I don’t fancy blowing an airbed up like I would a balloon. It would take ages.
• Tidy flat. I don’t know why I do this when I have visitors because it only gets messed up within 10 minutes of their arrival. However, I am house proud and and the flat looks so much bigger when it’s sparkly clean.
• Prepare food. This means taking it out of the wrappers and putting it in the oven. Boozy Friday nights are for junk food only, although I might chop celery and carrots to go with the dip so there’s at least one healthy option.
• Have a drink. I’ll be on wine tonight (as always) but will warm up with a few glasses of ginger wine – with crushed ice, it’s the only way to drink it. Totally yummers – a word I learned off CK and one for Wordia perhaps?
• Find the iron. Bro always needs to iron his clothes when he comes over, a concept which is totally foreign to me. I NEVER iron EVER and can never find the damn thing when bro asks for it. So this time I will be prepared.
• Get ready. LJ has been roped into curling my hair (‘cos I am crap at hair) and I want to look kinda girly tonight. The dresscode has been set as glamourous so sparkly eyeshadaw, high heels and dresses will be fetched out of the wardrobe.
• All of the above will be done while listening to loud dance music. I need to show my neighbours that I can play my music just as loudly as they can play theres. He he.
• General chatter, merryness, banter, drinking and eating before we head out into town (9pm to 9.30pm ish is what we’re aiming for). Might be organised and book taxis in advance.
• Hit the town. few bars to start with and then for some dancing. As I write this I’m already listening to some top tunes on the iPod to get me in the mood.
• And tomorrow morning? Probably wish none of the above had taken place! Hopefully I won’t get to talk to God down the big white telephone.

How to ruin a perfectly good Friday night

I have just spent 15 minutes writing a blog post only to read it back and think “fuck me, that’s boring” so I have deleted it. I won’t get those 15 minutes back and I don’t see why you should waste five of yours reading a shower of shite.

So, here are the facts: I’m staying in on a Friday night to tackle this tricky scenario - the planning assignment part of my CIPR Diploma in Public Relations. I hate it, I am clueless, it’s making me miserable. It’s boring, it’s tough and not knowing what to write is making me cross. Part of me wants to jack it in, part of me just wants to get the damn thing out the way and scrape a pass.

So, if you’re interested in public relations and fancy helping me out, feel free to make suggestions on how to approach this hellish piece of work. If you’re not interested, enjoy your evening.

Over and out.

My life starts again next Friday

This picture (click here) represents how I feel at the moment – down to a tee. April has been hell and the frustration at having to put my life on hold while I write two 3,000 word essays is building up. I may well explode at some point.

I’ve swapped a few emails with some of the girls on my course and they’re all feeling the same – that if they hear the words “dominant coalition” or “propaganda” one more time they will lose the will to live.

And it’s funny how things like washing up, vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom suddenly become appealing tasks when the laptop and PR Handbook are sitting on the table, waiting to be put into action. I would rather do anything than sit down and get my essays done.

The good news is I’m pretty much there, they just need tidying up. I have no idea if they’re any good and will just have to hope and prey they make the grade – I’m not looking for a distinction or even a merit. A simple pass will do just fine.

I’ve just taken a couple of days off work to get cracking with these wordy wonders and I would honestly rather have been at work. Wednesday was a day of torture with fine tuning diploma essay number one straddled by a visit to the dentist and an appointment with the contact lens chap. The good news? I have sparkly white teeth and can see to the end of the road. The bad news? I am brain dead.

So, here’s to another weekend of misery. I’m working tomorrow (no pretty Naval pilots to look at this time either, boo hoo!) and Sunday will be dedicated, in its entirety, to finishing these damn essays.

On the flip side, this time next week my essays will have been handed in to the relevant bods at London Met Uni and it’ll be out of my hands. My life starts again next Friday.