1. I suck at Farmville and it makes me a bit sad.
2. I find most status updates incredibly irritating. Seriously, so irritating that I want to jab you in the eye with a spork. Five years ago, back on myspace, I always had one or two friends who would irritate me with constant bulletins about the inane details of their life - now 500 people do, and there's only so many times I can read "I can't live without coffee in the morning!" or "Hanging out with my girls!" without my eyes rolling so far into the back of my head that I start being able to find vaguely appropriate metaphors. I'm as bad at that as I am at Farmville.
3. Unnecessary exclamation marks make my eyes bleed!!!!!!!!!!!!11
4. In "RL," I get very irritated by arrogant people and whiny attention whores, probably partially because I'm inclined to be both. Facebook magnifies those qualities.
5. Trying to think up my own status updates makes me depressed - if I was honest, they'd all be something like "Played World of Warcraft for 6 hours then had a nap" or "Realised I don't need to eat and shower as much if I leave my room less - win!" There's no way I can spruce that up with exclamation marks and lulz to sound good; I'm a miserable git. Status envy much?
6. The Farmville thing again.

1. Ask for discounts on £10 watches. Then, insist that I check with my manager. That isn't how shops work! Go back to the market you came from. Seriously, do these guys ask for discount at Topman? Asda?
2. Call me over by clicking your fingers and pointing. I'm not a dog.
3. Return £9.99 silver chains because they "just fell off your neck" so are "obviously faulty."
4. Get angry when glued on crystals on a cheap watch fall off after "only" 6 months of constant wear. It's a miracle it lasted that long anyway.
5. When I'm in a cabinet serving someone else, put your hand inside, try to grab something and say, "While you're in there, can I just take this out?" No. No. Things are behind glass cabinets for a reason; you're not supposed to play with them on your own.
6. Try and bribe me into giving you discounts. An ugly middle aged man once offered to take me to dinner; other cheeky people say they'll give you a personal tip if they can use your staff discount. Is you saving £20 really more important than me getting fired? Also, been taken out to dinner by sleazy strangers is never a treat.
7. When faced with a tray full of neat, clean earrings, pull them all out quickly and rub them all over your sticky fingers. People have to put them in their ears! Stop it.
8. Be really snobby about buying display items. They're behind glass; they've barely been touched. Fair enough, check to see if they're damaged, no one cares about that, but things don't lose value just from being looked at. For example, if you get a watch as a gift, is your immediate response, "I sure hope no dirty peasants have looked longingly at this watch, or I won't be able to wear it and have any semblance of self worth left!"
9. Expect me to be magical. If you ask for engagement rings below £150, that's fine, but they're going to be small. I can't give you a 1carat, flawless diamond for £99.99.
10. On the same note, if you walk in and ask if we have any necklaces that say "Chanelle", don't be surprised if we have to order it.

1. Please stop wearing leggings. I know Kate Moss can pull them off sometimes, but you are not Kate Moss. Bright pink leggings aren't "retro," they're sinful. And the bad kind of sinful too, not the little sins that God probably finds funny and nearly does himself occasionally.

Like most sane human beings, I mainly dislike fat people in leggings. Too many people seem to think that if they don't have the legs to wear a micro mini or hot pants, they can totally get away with it if they wear bright pink zebra print leggings underneith. This is stupid; not only can I still see your chunky thighs, they're even more obvious because they're BRIGHT PINK.

Even if you have nice legs, leggings are not wise. They highlight everything that is slightly wrong with your body. Only skinny, tall girls should even contemplate wearing them, and even then, no. Especially with the current trend to wear them with nothing but a long tshirt, some "ironic" sunglasses that aren't actually sunglasses and clashing shoes, you just look a tit. Please stop it. I don't want to see the minute contours of your thighs, and I ESPECIALLY don't want to see your camel toe and your VPL when your tshirt rides up, which it will.

2. Men, stop wearing slogan tshirts. Even if they're funny the first time you read them, they definitely aren't the 74th time. When I was in a particularly foul mood the other day, I saw a man wearing a tshirt that said "You want me, you just don't know it yet!" I found it so irritating that I actually walked up to the poor guy, looked him square in the eye and said, "I really don't mate," before moving on. I know it's hard to believe from the general aura of sweetness and light and cupcake that surrounds me, but I've been a wee bit grumpy recently.

Another one I've seen a lot recently is "Cover me in chocolate and feed me to the lesbians!" I'm not too familiar with the social habits of large groups of half starved homosexual women, but I'm pretty sure hungrily licking chocolate off a delighted 19 year old male is pretty low down on their list of priorities. Personally, "Kill the mother hugger who's been keeping us in captivity and starving us for weeks" and "Wash chocolate stains off carpet before they stain," would be much higher on my list.

Seriously, I'm so going to play that joke on my future daughter some day. Please play along.

I ran out of meds at the weekend, so I've been having crazy person withdrawal symptoms all week; entertaining for the first day, but just embarrassing and inconvenient by the third. I was twitching and shaking constantly and everything around me looked like it was going twice as fast as it actually was. I made the mistake of going to get my eyebrows done to try and cheer myself up; by the end of it, I was sweating like a pig with the effort of not twitching. Also, Selfridges is really hot. I think my mood was summed up by a conversation I had in my car on Monday:

Me: Do you want a lift to college tomorrow?
Rob: Sure!
Me: Just because, if you do, you HAVE to come early.
Rob: Erm, ok...
Me: Because it is SO disrespectful if you don't. Seriously, I'm doing you a favour and you make me wait around? You know how stressy that makes me. It makes me REALLY mad. I'm getting mad now just thinking about it. Just PROMISE you won't be late, ok?
Rob: Ok...?

I must have been a fun friend this week... thankfully I managed to get to the docs today so I'm happy again. I also learnt my lesson about being disorganised with doctors appointments.

I did an insanely embarrassing thing yesterday morning; our street is having work done on all the houses, so there's scaffolding up and builders at my bedroom window constantly. They knocked on our door on Tuesday morning to tell us that we wouldn't be able to use the front door for a few hours the next day because they were cleaning the walls or something, and arranged a time for us to be out. They were very nice, actually. Anyway, the next day I leave the house at the agreed time and go to my car. As I'm getting in, one of the builders starts shouting at me. I can't really hear what he's saying; it sounds something pervy, so I just shout out, "You wish!" and start looking for my car keys faster. He starts laughing and replies, "No, I said are your housemates going to be out the house before nine?" I was so mortified!

I've spent the last few weeks playing The Sims 2 for about 7 hours a day, so here's some pictures of my virtual babies.

This is mummy Tilly with baby Bonnie and big sister Blythe, who are my favourite sims ever. Tilly's long term lover is an alien called Fry. There's also a bigger sister called Brodie who's a bit of a hussy.
This is Bonnie when she's older; isn't she hot!

This is Blythe's boyfriend, John. He has stupid hair but he's a nice guy.

This is Angel, who's a bit of a crazy cat woman now. She had twins; two incredibly ugly boys, who I'm very fond of just because they're fugly.

This is Kiera, who's insane. She's in a cult and had a bit of an accident with a mind altering machine, so is obsessed with grilled cheese sandwiches.

This is Jessica, John's twin sister; she's actually quite pretty when she's not having a fat day and has spots all over her face.

I love my simmies :)

I'm going to have to conquer my awful sleep patterns tonight, because I have to get up early to let various workmen into my home. I thought it would be clever to arrange for them all to visit on the same day, but it turns out none of them can be in the house if another work man is already there (They claim it's for insurance reasons, but I think they just hate each other) so I've had to stagger them throughout the day.

One of the men who's coming is a pest control man, about the mice problem I'm always whining about. I have absolutely no idea what he'll do though, other than block up holes and stuff; will he make beautiful music on a flute, luring all the mice from their daytime slumber, only to shoot them all with a tiny paintball gun? Will he somehow cause civil unrest amongst the mice community, causing them all to fight to the bloody death? Seriously, I have no idea.

A year of sleeping 15 hours each day has finally took it's toll on my body, and after wussing out of joining the gym again (I'm too shy to sign up on my own and all my "friends" think this is hilarious so won't go with me) I got out a work out DVD me and Kat bought last summer, used once and then actively ignored. I managed to do the whole thing, but the carpet in front of the TV is drenched with sweat and I'm in incredible pain. Speaking of incredible pain, I had another massage today; I find massages really excruciatingly painful, but insist on paying money for them anyway for reasons I've never fully understood.

I visited my nephew (he's two) yesterday and he's learned to say "Bicky" which is very cute. He can also say "Flipping heck!" and pats fat people's tummys and says "Baby!" I enjoyed that a lot but mainly because it wasn't my tummy he was patting.

Like most people who blog, I can't sleep. This is a diary of my insomnia.

9.30 - 11.00 - Huddled up on the sofa worrying about the least worrying problem I have.

11.00 - 11.15- Watched GemsTV online. I thought about buying a zultanite; not because they're particularly good looking, but the man made them sound cool.

11.15 - 12.00 - More worrying.

12.00 - 12.10 - Amazed at how the mice that live in my kitchen managed to poop in ALL of the mixing bowls. Washed the one that smelt the least.

12.10 - 12.40 - Cooked some double chocolate chunk muffins from a packet. They smell nice. Hope the mice don't eat them, or poop on them.

12.40 - 1.00 - Facebook. Made the mistake of commenting on someone's status; 17 notifications later, other people eventually stop commenting on it too.

1.00 - 1.05 - Got into bed. Rolled about a bit. Turned on computer again.

1.05 - 1.30 - Researched obscure illnesses online, and decided I have them all.

1.30 - 1.55 - Watched Sugar Rush on 4OD. Being a lesbian looks hard work.

1.55 - 2.15 - Complained to people on msn about how I can't sleep.

2.15 - 2.45 - Found a picture to put at top of blog post. Changed my Speed Dial to include Grooveshark.

2.45 - 3.09 - Blogging, slowly. Keep on cracking my toes.

I'm bloody bored, to be honest. I got used to working every day over Christmas and now I'm faced with a month of working 6 hours a week before college starts again I'm bored stiff. I nap a lot during the day, hence why I'm so irritatingly perky and awake in the early hours.

I still haven't found a good way of going to sleep; it's never really a problem I've had before last year. I sometimes listen to a meditation cd, but the only reason it works is because it's so incredibly boring. "Think about your toes. What do they feel? What do they think? Breathe into your toes. Breathe out from your toes. How do they feel now?"

I have a strong urge to read Enid Blyton books.

I work in a mid market jewellers. During the festive season, we're rather busy. All the people who never venture out their front door for the other 11 months of the year crawl out of the holes where they must live and try and buy earrings from me.

To be honest, most of my customers are lovely; I served one elderly couple last week who were almost teary eyed with gratitude when I sold them insurance, of all things. I've just had some absolute jerkwads over Christmas, and it's time to rant about them.

I was serving a man and his two young sons. He was already being grumpy with me because he'd had to wait to be served; a common theme with customers who come shopping the week before Christmas. I was putting his transaction through the till and trying to make awkward conversation with a very arsey man when his card is declined. This happens quite a bit at Christmas, and it's not a big deal; usually it just takes a few more attempts and it'll go through with no problems; the card machines probably just get a bit over worked or something. After two more attempts, it still doesn't work; Arsey man's heckles rise further. We're chit-chatting politely, but every word is dripping with distain for the other.

I ask to have a look at his card and he throws it at me. It's absolutely mangled; loads of scratches, and what looks like teeth marks along one side. I swipe his card and as he's signing the receipt, I suggest, "You might want to have the card looked at Sir; it looks pretty worn."

Arsey man practically spits at me. "You're just doing this on purpose!" he spat accross the counter. "I swear down that if I go into any other shop, it'll work just fine."

"Sir, I'm really not doing this on purp..."

"Quality of service here is appalling! First you make me wait, then this!"

"Sir, your card looks like it's been chewed on by a large dog. Have a good day."

--

I've discovered that if I wear pigtails to work, I attract lots of unwanted attention from disgusting old men. On the other hand, if I wear glasses and put my hair up, I attract rich customers. On this particular day I was wearing bunches.

I was serving a bent old men, who'd been chatting away quite happily to me. He was quite cheeky, but just in an eye-rollingly annoying way. I bent over to get a carrier bag for him, and he stares mesmerised at my ass, rubs his hands together in glee and suddenly asks, "How much is it to get up there, love?"

I pretended I hadn't heard him and hid behind the repair desk for a while, rocking back and forth.

--

On a particularly busy day, the next person in my queue were two ladies; probably a mother and a daughter. The mother was the atypical sweet old lady, and the daugher was a crazy middle aged phycho. She had a thin face, pointly glasses and a fur coat. She crossly beckoned me over and pointed at some earrings. "And I presume I get 20% off these?"

I shook my head. "No, sorry," I explained. "Only the products with the red labels are in the sale."

She looked absolutely aghast. "But everywhere else is giving me 20% off!"

At this point, the floor controller chipped in with, "Well, you'll have to shop there then!"

Clearly taken aback, the phycho woman looks put out for a moment, then her eyebrows knit with evil once again. "I want to have a closer look at them" she says, and points somewhere towards the earring display.

I open the cabinet, get the earrings out and turn round to discover she's marched to the other end of the shop and sat down. I follow her and show her the earrings. She doesn't really look at them. "I'll get 20% off these," she says again, with determination. I'm getting quite frustrated by this point.

"No, you don't. These aren't in the sale," I say.

"Then your signs are misleading! I know my rights!" she cries.

There are no signs at all that say anything of the sort. "Which sign are you talking about, sorry?" I ask. She points somewhere behind her. "The 0% apr on storecards sign?" I ask.

She looks around more carefully, and settles on her sign of choice. "That one!" she said. "The one that says 20% off!"

I read the sign out very slowly. "Get a £25 voucher when you spend over £25?"

"Very misleading. I'd like 20% off."

"I'm very sorry, but no."

At this point her mother pipes up with, "They're very pretty earrings though! I like rose gold." Phycho lady storms off. I crack up laughing.

I left a depressing post at the top of my feed for far too long, and I'm sorry. It's going to go away now. I'll try and tell you all the incredibly exciting and amazing things I've been up to since I last blogged.

I worked an evening shift on Wednesday, but the traffic was crazy bad on my way to work, so I was running an hour late. I was quite content about it, to be honest; there was nothing I could do to get to work quicker, so I just sang along to bad dance music at the top of my voice for the whole two hours I spent in the car. While I was on the phone to work, I got stopped by a police lady who told me off for using my mobile while driving.

Eventually, I was about two minutes away from the car park. Dance music was still playing really loud. Traffic lights went green, I drove into the roundabout, middle lane. A car on my left was in the wrong lane and was about to drive into me, so I dart to the right, but there's a huge ruddy truck there; it hit me behind my back wheel and my tiny little car spins in a circle then crashes into the middle of the roundabout, just in front of a Subway sign. I burst into tears but all I could actually think about was whether I'd broken my phone or not because I wanted to ring Boyfriend and it had flown off my lap during all the spinning.

It turned out my car was fine; it has a bump and the wheels are probably a little worse for wear, but that's it. I'm trying to figure out how to keep it a secret from my parents. I was a shivering wreck for about 20 minutes, then adrenaline kicked in and I went to work and talked very very fast and shook a lot. Which isn't ideal when you're selling diamonds, but made it much more interesting.

On Thursday, I went into the kitchen to have breakfast. We have a serious mice problem in our house, and the kitchen was covered in mouse poop (This is probably a good place to point out that it's not because I live in a den of student filth; I have an insanely clean housemate who stops that from happening). It was all over the floor, all over the shelves, inside my freezer bag, inside the breadbin, on the bread... you get the idea. I'd left my medication out, and there was two tablets missing. Just as I was staring at the packet and getting confused about it, my housemate told me that she found a dead mouse under the sink that morning. Coincidence? I think not.

Friday I was at work again. My shift started at 9; I was so tired I couldn't even hide it by shovelling on make up. I served the cheesiest old man; he walked up to me and said, "I asked for the prettiest sales assosiate in the shop, and they told me to go to Victoria!" I fixed his watch for him, and whenever I asked him a question he replied with something a long the lines of "Only if I get to spend more time with you!" It was kind of cute, in a creepy way. Boyfriend and me got through a whole day without anyone at work making bad jokes about us; our work names are David and Victoria, so at the moment most of the jokes have a similar theme: "Ay Posh, where's Becks? Hahahahaha!" My co-workers are classy folks.


* Pros - it might be tingly!, the possibility of blowing bubbles
Cons - probably not cool, would be unfortunate if it got stuck

Feel a bit of a wreck today. I can't even concentrate enough to watch sci fi or read blog entries. I've needed the toilet pretty badly for the past 6 1/2 hours but it seems like a lot of effort so I'm just ignoring it. Haven't eaten in a long time and don't particularly want to. One of my tortoises weed all over me this morning.

I saw found this cutie via Cute Overload and got thinking about what kind of costumes I could make for my torts. So far I've been too lazy to do anything other than attatching a bell to Sophie's shell which was very cute but wouldn't win any awards.

Anyway, I'm still not particularly inspired but while I was looking for pictures, I came accross this:
And for a bit of extra cuteness...
Seriously, I squealed with joy for at least 10 minutes straight when I saw this. It combines babies and tortoises and it almost made my womb skip a beat. It's like it's holding out it's arms, saying "Hold me Vickie! I smell like freshly washed baby, I feel like extra snuggly fleece AND I look like a tortoise. Love me!"

Nap time for Vickie now.