Wimp

I have an entry to post which I’ll backdate when I remember to e-mail it to myself. But for now I’ll sum up the last 36 hours.

I’m still a wimp, and a muppet. I went to my favourite sports shop last night. And yes, I held the beginnings of a conversation with my favourite sales assistant. I was scraping the barrel conversation wise but decided not to venture into the conversation about the “cute shirt” a kid was wearing. I know, say something semi-witty about what you’re buying – a pedometer with body fat analyser for my Mum for Christmas! “Not sure how impressed she’s going to be with a body fat analyser for Christmas”. Muppet. She? She? Great effort. I left.

I was thinking about why I’m finding it so hard. I’m better in situations when I’m under pressure and just need to do something rather than think about it and build up to it. For some reason, when I run through an identical situation with other members of the fairer sex in my head (not that type of situation!) it all seems so straight forward. Hmm… Is it maybe a sixth sense I have telling me not to bother? Maybe I’m just bigging it up too much.

I had a dream the other night where a guy jumped off a roof and started flying about, liberated, using a white trench coat as wings. I thought it was me but I was watching him do it. He was shouting “If I hadn’t taken a chance I wouldn’t be doing this…”

I went to Tesco and bought some chocolate and banana sandwiches (yes, they really do sell them in Tesco) and some Gu cheesecakes from the reduced section cause they were best before that day and proceeded to eat the lot while watching a DVD.

I was picking my brother up from his work Christmas party in Manchester so had a strong coffee and dicipated the night’s regrets by jumping round the lounge watching Bullet in a Bible really loud playing air guitar to 65000 people.

If I had a quid for everytime someone tried to wave me down in Manchester city center I’d be… well, I’d probably have about £6. It’s quite hard knowing that you’re tired, driving down city streets that you don’t know and that at any second someone’s going to walk out infront of you with their thumb sticking out. You want to make a turn so indicate and slow down and see this hand grab your door handle. Or you try to make the turn and someone just stands in the road cause it seems as good a place as any once you’ve necked a few jars.

I found a space in the station car park and sat there. The space wasn’t too secluded for fear that I’d be arrested for something. I beat my record for PacMan on my phone and decided I was bored. A lad had pulled into the space next to me and all I could hear would bass. So I turned up some Green Day to compete. I really detest just hearing bass with know melody over it, and rock does bass so much better than any other music genre.

I got in about 3am and got up again at 8 to finish the Christmas shopping before the match and 12.45. Before I went to bed I put Teletext on to see how the Ashes were going. There was one of these late night quiz things on. The question was “15 cats all meet 3 cats each” These cats then meet 25 cats and all go for a curry. How many cats went for curry?” So, possible answers…

First idea was (15 x 3) x 25 assuming each of the first set of cats then met 25 each = 1125 or something close. Then I thought that was stupid, cause 1125 cats would never go for a curry all together.

So I went for (15 x 3) + 25 = 70. Only other option was simply just 15 x 3 = 45 if the first group didn’t take the second with them. But I still can’t fathom how people came up with (incorrect) answers of 5, 40, 85 and 450. There’s surely no logic to any of those.

I got the stuff I needed shopping this morning, except something for my Grandmother which shouldn’t be too hard to get. I’d been looking for a Frank Sinatra album for myself for a proper version of My Way ever since Ray Quinn sang it on X-Factor a few weeks back. They had the “Best of” album for £5.97 in Woolworths, so I picked it up and walked to the till. It came up at £10 so I said that the ticket had it marked at £5.97. “Sorry, unless it had a sticker on it I have to charge what it says on the till”. I said I’d go and get one with a sticker on then, but as it happened the only stickered one was £10. I went to the till and said that but mentioned that the ticket did back up my claim. “Well it’s £10. Do you want it?” And I was blunt. “No” was all I said, and it’s quite rare that I don’t try to soften something like that. She said that the wrong CD had been put on the shelf by the ticket. I informed her of the description of the album on the ticket and how it matched the album title. She said it should be a blue cover on the CD. Oh, OK – that makes it fine then.

I shouldn’t have been so bothered, but it really got my back up. I know there was no legal recourse for me, but you just expect someone in a shop of that size to be able to absorb such a loss when complying to that adage that the customer is always right. I think it was the bluntness and, well, not rudeness I guess but you know what I mean, of the assistant. Maybe I’m thinking of upherownarsedness. Woolworths should take some lessons in customer satisfaction from JJB.

Leona Lewis won X-Factor in a blaze of glory. She has a voice, yes, and she has a falsetto and a big note which make the comparisons to Mariah and Whitney obvious. Albeit she only seems able to do aforementioned big note while turning to look over her right shoulder. But I really don’t want to like her, even though she is good and I do like listening to her. There’s just something about her I think she lacks – maybe the x-factor.

I wanted Ben Mills to win. He’s a proper musician and would have offered originality more readily than the two finalists. In the final I was a Ray supporter. I’m of the opinion that most people with half a voice can record, and most of the people that get that far in such a competition have proved they can sing at least adequately in a live environment. So I base my opinion on who’s show I’d rather see live. You’d walk out of a Leona concert going “Well, she can certainly sing! Ice cream was a bit on the expensive side though”, but that would be about it. Meh, I guess I’d just enjoy a swing concert or dirty vocal a bit more.

And now it’s late and I have indigestion.

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