I had thought about joining a running club a few times but never did because after years of being made to run with a load of other people, I much preferred running on my own. Well one of our neighbours mentioned that she was taking part in a running clinic so against my better judgement, and despite being screamed at not to by my inner voice, I did it. I turn up tonight five minutes before the official start time (like any normal person would, right) and get my vaccination passport thingy scanned. This was a requirement for the running clinic, everyone had to show their vaccine passport and not one person kicked off about it. I was a little disappointed that there was none of those lovely folks fighting for our freedoms ready to pounce, but I figured they were busy protesting elsewhere, like at the hospitals. One lady did make a comment about how when hers was scanned, not only did it confirm that she had been vaccinated, but that the scanner was also able to obtain her name. I know, shocking really. How dare her information be given out! Never mind that they already knew her name because you know, she signed up. It’s the principle!!!! Anyways, it was ten minutes after the official start time and people were still arriving as if we weren’t waiting for them to start (nobheads) and I was starting to think that I made a mistake and that I should be on the couch chilling with Eric. That’s when the clapping and cheering starting (FML). I kid you not, within the first 15 minutes we had clapped and given ourselves a pat on the back five fuckin times, and the best bit, WE HADN’T EVEN MOVED!
To be fair, it was good once we got going. I reckon we managed to piss off every cyclists and pedestrian in our path. There was 40 birds broken down into 3 groups (walkers, run/walkers and runners) taking up the sidewalk and bike lane, cheering each other on in what can only be described as a complete and utter cluster fuck! I asked the organizer if we would be heading to the beach next time where you know, it’s quieter, and he responded that we would be but he did this route for our first run so he could control it more and keep an eye on everyone. Inner voice was begging to be let out but chilled and managed to see the funny side.
Mr C after laughing at the clapping and ranting about civvys was keen to know if I made any friends, like a parent does after their kids first day at school. As if I just stood there on my own scowling and eye rolling at the fuckin clapping………..don’t be a twat Nath.
I can seriously say that this is the dumbest thing I have ever done and I’ve done some really dumb things in my lifetime. Mr C wanted to go camping in our van Hannah, reluctantly I agreed. “It will be great” he said “we will have so much fun, it’s going to be a glorious weekend.”
It lashed it down and we spent most of our time sat under this gazebo. Even Eric wasn’t impressed.
So what else do you do when you’re camping and it’s lashing down with rain. If you’re Canadian, you’d likely put on a waterproof and go hiking but no, Mr C had done a great job getting me to agree to go camping in the first place, there was absolutely no way I was going hiking in the rain when I had no where to dry off and chill afterwards. In hindsight, we should have done exactly that though, maybe then, we wouldn’t have been so fuckin dumb……..
We were probably about half way through the box of wine (oh, don’t judge, it was lashing down, what else were we supposed to do) when Mr C first bought up the subject. It was a strategic move, he knows that after a few glasses of wine my inner Beyonce comes out of hibernation stretching her “we can do anything positive bullshit attitude.” The conversation went something like this:
Mr C: “babes we should do a racing the planet event”
Me: “what’s that?”
Mr C: “A race across the Atacama desert in Chile”
Doesn’t sound bad eh, in fact it sounds pretty awesome. We can go to Chile taste all the good wine and the food, maybe pop to Bolivia. We’ve never been to South America so we would be crossing off another continent (only one more to go after that (smug AF and don’t care)).
Me: “sounds fab babes let’s do it. Can you refill my glass.”
Mr C: “of course babes just completing our registration.”
And that was how I managed to get myself signed up for a 250 km multi-day ultra marathon through a fuckin desert. We leave next week with the race starting the following Saturday. Am I prepared? I get asked this all the time and no, I am shitting myself! This really is the dumbest thing I have ever agreed to do. Much dumber than starting a riot in the desert or strategically throwing up after day drinking tripple, tripple Baileys to keep up with the lads (remember that Pale & Interesting, when they wouldn’t let us leave camp until we paid our tab down the pub on adventure training?? Still think they were out of order for increasing the price of our drinks because it was after 5 pm).
Anyways, so yeah we’re are taking part in a Racing the Planet event at the end of September. Here’s a video of stage 1 of the race.
The good thing is, that I am doing this with Mr C, who has made me do lots of dumb things that I never would have done if it wasn’t for him. Such as, scuba diving in the terrifying ocean (my massive fear) becoming a certified Rescue Diver, reaching the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro (he dragged up the last part after I almost fell apart at the false summit) and snowboarding (well that was actually a fuckin disaster that saw me throw a full on tantrum on a mountain) but you see where I’m going with this. I know it’s going to mad hard but how boring would it be if we were just going to an all inclusive to chill for a week in Hawaii (I am so booking our vacations next year).
So my lovely friends, as this is going to be mad hard will you please be so kind as to make a donation to one of our chosen charities. We have chosen two charities, one Canadian and one British. The Canadian one is the BC SPCA we wanted to support this charity because they support animals with their tag line being ‘speaking for animals’. As you all know Eric is our boy and we absolutely love him to pieces. Dogs are awesome, they teach us so much and give us their unconditional love and loyalty, yet some cretins treat them so badly, taking them into their homes welcoming them into the family only to discard them when it no longer suits. I have read numerous stories about dogs being found abandoned, waiting in the same place for days for their owners to come back. Fortunately, there are charities out there that give these dogs another chance at the life they deserve, such as the BC SPCA, who welcome any donations in order to keep this work up.
Our British charity is Veterans Aid. They are an amazing charity who assist veterans in crisis, regardless of time served. The reason we chose these guys is because simply, they provide assistance to Veterans who are in crisis with much of their work focused on providing homeless Veterans with shelter.
It’s hard to describe the camaraderie you experience when in the military, for me, I can honestly say that joining the Army saved me from a life that doesn’t bare thinking about. I remember the first day I put on my uniform and stood with my fellow recruits on the parade square. I looked like what we would call a ‘bag of shit,’ my uniform was not ironed very well, my boots did not shine and my feeble attempt of putting my crazy hair into a nice tidy bun under a hair net was pathetic. My Corporal shouted/screamed at me in a Welsh accent that I indeed did look like a “bag of shit” and proceeded to take the piss out of my accent, nicknaming me Shanahana ding dong. Despite all this, as I stood there listening to other recruits being told similar, this feeling went through me. It’s hard to describe but it was physical, it felt safe, like belonging, like I had finally found my home.
The first friend I made shared the same room as me, I think there was 8 bunks but can’t remember. We became friends after she plucked my eyebrows for the first time ever and I accidentally dropped a bottle of her perfume (I was devastated, I’d never had perfume before and saw it as a massive luxury). You’d think we wouldn’t become friends but we became the best of friends, which got me through basic training, the many jail visits and the first half of my military career!
Being in the military was like having a massive family, the years I spent in, saw me form my chosen family of amazing supportive people. Even those that I am no longer in touch with played a part in who I am today and for that I will be forever grateful. Not everyone who leaves the military have the support needed to transition into a ‘civvy’ and without that support it is so tough. Veterans can find themselves struggling and in need of help, that’s where Veterans Aid comes in. In 2018, Veterans Aid homed 154 people, they need funds in order to continue the work they do.
Do you ever get that smuggy feeling, you know when you’re doing something that makes you feel like you’re being a full on functional, responsible adult living their best life (who totally cringes at that saying………….me when it’s not me saying it). That’s how I feel when I bike into work, you should hear the shit that comes out of my mouth, it ranges from “it has such an impact on how my day goes, I just find that I am so more productive when I bike in” to “it’s so much nicer than sitting on transit”.
Who the fuck am I kidding…. When I don’t bike in, I can leave my apartment at 07:50 rather than 07:15, that’s a whole 35 minutes of reading the hate mail. I don’t start my working day looking like a beetroot and I’m contributing to the economy (see smug af).
I was having this roller coaster ride this morning as I biked in. I had to bike in, I told Mr C that I was going to and I could see that he was starting to regret buying me the nice bike and fancy Garmin watch that I absolutely needed if I was to bike in! It was particularly difficult when some fucker went by me on an electric bike as I’m blowing out me arse trying to make it up a hill (do not get me started on those things), now they looked really smug.
Being in a book club also makes me smug, like look at me, I read that much I’m actually in a club with a bunch of sophisticated ladies; we have very intellectual discussions about books, it’s all rather v pleasant. It’s not though, we get together once a month, laugh that most of us haven’t read the book and get drunk, it’s brilliant!
I hate other smug fuckers though, don’t you? I was at the bus stop the other day (don’t judge, I can’t be a smug af bike commuter every day) and stood dutifully in line next to two young birds being annoyingly loud af. The conversation went like this:
The tone in which the last line was said was so full of judgement and smug bitchiness that I wanted to say something (not a citizen yet, so best not). Fleabag is awesome, yes she’s dysfunctional but she’s also real and hilarious and I love her! What the show isn’t is “ok” it’s brilliant and that’s not just me saying so, it scores 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. My sister in law introduced the show to me when we were back in blighty and we literally sat on the couch whilst the family did the family things with the children and binged watched it.
I don’t know how but I seemed to of added a v cool playlist onto my Spotify. Maybe I did it when under the influence and my cool alter ego came out (ssshhhh, I know she’s not cool at all. She’s a fuckin mess so I’m keepin that bitch buried). Maybe my niece added it when she was over for the holidays and it was nothing to do with me (I nearly destroyed her when I put country music on one morning). Or maybe it was Alexa because she was sick of me yelling “NEXT ALEXA” (apparently I’m too harsh with her wtf)!! Anyways, however it got on there it is brilliant and for the past 2 days I have been listening to it arriving at my desk after doing the dance floor walk (you know, the one were you start by casually walking but by the time you get to the dance floor you’re full on Beyonce. If you have not seen this Peter Kay sketch go find it, it’s hilarious) and feeling ready to deal with the day no matter what it brings.
Music has the power to influence and totally drive our mood and therefore actions. It can make us happy, sad, motivated and chilled. I am always suspicious about people who don’t like music or those it has no effect on. Maybe that would be a good research project, maybe it’s already been done. Just checked and it has, some clever dudes totes agree with me.
Here’s a little experiment download the song in the video below and listen to it next time you go outside (oh and when I say listen to it, I mean through headphones, don’t be one of those dicks who think everyone wants to listen to your music. Yes, I did just read that back but whatever). When listening to the song see if it effects the way you’re walking and your mood. Are you full on swaggering down the road giving it your best runway walk and Naomi attitude or are you like what is she talking about, this is awful.
Whatever the effect, it says more about you than it does me bitches……………….sorry Naomi is still in the house.
I started today bawling me eyes out whilst sat in bed with a brew (a cup of tea for all you lunatics thinking I mean booze) and no not because I had to go to work (I love my job) or because it was lashing down with rain (I love the rain, it creates duck baths) or that I realized my hair wasn’t a nightmare and I did in fact go for an impromptu hair appointment last night (I don’t love my hair, I fuckin hate it. I look like a monk). So what did make me cry? Teddy bears, yep you read that right cuddly talking teddy bears had me bawling my eyes out.
Go on watch it, I dare ya. See if those little fuckers make you cry!
It’s a great Christmas advert actually (fab work Heathrow) and yes, I was in bed with me brew watching Christmas adverts on YouTube. I start most of my mornings like this or listening to Christmas tunes whilst getting ready for work, I can’t help it I love Christmas!
I also found a Granddad this morning which has made my day. In addition to listening to Christmas music and watching Christmas adverts, I also read the Hate Mail in the morning. Don’t judge, I know it’s a terrible rag but I can’t help it and it informs me of really important things like how Megs (me mate) actually wanted a different tiara to the one she wore at her wedding but our Lizzie (me BFF) told her to pee off and that she would get what she was given.
Oops went off a bit then, back to my new Granddad. He’s called David, he’s 85, lives in Lancashire, is in a choir and is such a lovely fella. His Instagram account went viral on Twitter when some bird called Tasha shared it and he now has 58.4k adopted Grand kids!! He started on Instagram to document his journey on Slimming World and is proper chuffed to be getting all this attention. Go and check Granddad David’s Insta account out and become part of the family!
So I read that Uber may ban Australian and New Zealand customers if their rating goes below a 4. I read this with much interest and mixed feelings. Part of me thinks well some people can be right nobs and to have them in close confines for even the shortest amount of time can be challenging; add the drunks, the talkers and the high and mighty and fuck there is no way I could/want to be an Uber driver. When I’m driving my car (well used to, I don’t own one now.
I live in Vancouver and it’s much cooler to be/appear poor AF and use public transport) I am in my fave place, it’s me, my music, a sold out arena and my fabulous doting fans (oh fuck off, it is MY fave place). I wouldn’t want to share that with some miserable c**t who feels entitled to a free ticket to my sold out event. Fuck off mate and buy a ticket, if ya name isn’t on the door, guess what love, you’re not coming in.
Anyways enough about me and back to my point………I will get there honest. Okay, I was going to get there but thought I would check my Uber rating and I am happy to announce that I am a 4.79 woop woop, check me the fuck out I’m almost a 5. Lol since when has being a 5 been something to cheer about. Oh well done average Shelly, you basic bitch.
Okay let’s try again, pin ya ears back and grab the popcorn. I’ve mentioned that Black Mirror episode on Netflix called Nosedive before. It’s the one where the bird is trying to get to her friends wedding and everyone is going around rating each other out of 5 on their phones. Which you might think is far fetched and eye roll that we’re becoming too concerned about the time people spend on social media but is it actually?? People are creating fake times to impress other people or worse being in an actually awesome moment but spoiling it to grab their phones to let everyone know that they are having an awesome time. This weekend Mr C and I were at Skookum Festival and the magical fabulously awesome Florence & The Machine played. At one point Florence told everyone to put their phones away and be in the moment (as if you have to be told)!!
Fuck totally forgot where I was going with that, sorry me Chimp made an appearance and totally messed my train of thought up! Oh yeah, rating people! China are/have bringing in a Social Credit Score for their government officials and citizens, which will determine what services they can access. One dude is reportedly on a no fly list because his is shitty. You may think this is shocking (ah that’s where I was going, bare with me) but no it’s not, we do it every day, which is why when you like a pic on Instagram you just know it’s been snapped more than once or when you watch Insta stories, you know it doesn’t paint the full picture but you’ve provided someone with some sort of gratification because you’ve added to the number of folk who’s read their story.
So what would make a 5* rating? An elderly lady gets on my bus a few times a week, she brings with her a trolley stacked with bags of cans and plastic bottles which I’m assuming she takes to the depot and exchanges them for cash. All the regular commuters make room for her, giving up the fold away seats so she can get her trolley in and sit down herself. The non regular commuters are visibly offended that they are expected to give up their seats (but do so in fear of judgement) making a silent but obvious protest and trowing the old bird daggers whilst trying to balance their Starbucks and answer their emails at the same time (nightmare).
Who in this scenario would be a 5* citizen? The elderly lady who is an obvious grafter, who can bounce daggers off her like Batman? The people who so graciously give up their seats to make room for the elderly lady? Or the people with faces like smacked arses trying to balance their Starbucks and answer their emails? I know who is 5* to me but don’t think everyone will feel the same……….
Oh and if you get a moment feel free to like, share, rate or comment. Hey I’m only human!!
I do try, honest I really do but sometimes the inner bitch inside of me just breaks out and comes to the forefront in all her judgmental glory and you know what, I won’t lie, sometimes I love her! I know, I know, I should condemn her, push her off a cliff and cut her off forever but she is funny as fuck and makes me lol (laugh out loud for those who hate lol. Bore off by the way, you’re just trying to be cool).
Anyways I just popped down to get coffee and a bird walked by me in a fabulous dress and my first thought was lovely thinking how nice she looked. Then it turned to, I look shit in dresses (even at this point I still love her as tbf I do). I looked at her again, admired her dress, then looked at her shoes……….they were fuckin awful, shiny patent nude with bows on, like wtf they were obvs from Payless.
So this brings me to a confession, one that is very hard to admit but here I am sharing it with you good (and some not so good) people. Hopefully the ex wife won’t read this, she will crucify me and I will never hear the end of it! Are you ready for my confession? I’m feeling kinda nervous and totally embarrassed about myself.
For the past month (or so), I have been buying my coffee from Starbucks!! I know, it’s disgusting, I am horrified and a terrible human being. I should be supporting my local coffee shop but no. The big bad Starbucks gets fuckin everywhere and there is even one at work that makes it oh so easy to get on that slippery slope of supporting these guys! It’s that bad, that I don’t even need to ask for my coffee, they just take my cup (hey at least that’s reusable) fill it and know what my payment method will be. Sometimes I like to mess with them and also order a slice of Lemon bread (it’s so fuckin good). I will not be boring basic predictable Becky!
So from now (well after tomorrow when my new shiny flask arrives), I will make coffee at home or support my local Corner Cup Coffee House. If I ever get tempted to go back to Starbucks, I will picture my fabulous friends face, full of disappoint that I am not supporting an awesome independent coffee shop such as the one she owns in Gateshead, UK called Arch Sixteen, if you are ever in the area go check it out.
“I bought 2 Amazon products for someone to talk to” this is a direct quote from one of my friends and it had me howling, even saying it back now is making me chuckle. Cheers bird. In what could easily have been a scene from a cheesy chick flick me and some girlfriends sat around a kitchen table drinking whatever was put in front of us, talking shit, whilst the men folk did their own thing. We were chatting about the different dynamics of friendships groups and how extroverts and introverts can live happily ever after in good healthy friendships.
Having good friends is important to me and I think most birds will agree (I know, some birds don’t enjoy having girlfriends because hanging out with guys means less drama etc etc) that sitting around with your girlfriends sinking a couple……okay a few bottles of wine (oh fuck off judgey, as if two bottle of wine between more than two women are going to make it past the hour) is the best type of therapy.
Why is it though, that sometimes we invite people into our lives and rather than being a good, healthy friendship, it turns out to be toxic; you know the type the bitches who make you question yourself, who are always trying to one up you all the time or make you feel bad about yourself so they can feel better about themselves. These bitches exist, I have met up with a few girlfriends over the past week and even literally just asked a bird at work and in the past, they all had one of these toxic friendships.
Erm, so if you’re reading this and thinking you hypocritical bitch; firstly, thanks for reading my blog, secondly, my Insta is open if you want to see all the fun things I am doing and thirdly, I’m sorry. Because here’s the thing, can we all honestly look in the mirror and say nope, I have never been that bitch, I am not good frenemy material. Well if you haven’t, bully for you, go and polish your twattin halo and pray for all us bitches who sometimes make the mistake of being a complete and utter c**t (oops sorry if that offends, it’s okay to not be a bitch, some people just aren’t capable of being c**ts).
In other news: I had a fabulous evening last night with my oldest Canadian friend (as in time served. Not that it’s like a prison sentence being my friend (fuck, am I actually one of those bitches?!), we went to Vij’s it was amazing. Not sure even where to start with this place; the food was awesome, the service fabulous and the setting on the patio perfect. The owner grafted the whole time we were there taking the time to chat with his guests, take pictures of tables and oblige the selfie requests.
This place is mad popular, if you don’t have a reservation turn up early. The lineup got big pretty fast. You won’t regret the wait though, the food literally makes you dance in your seat 🙂
Argh, I am so pissed off right now, I don’t often let anyone other than myself piss all over my day but as my lovely Welsh friends would say, “I’m tamping, raging, fuming.”
I am having a fab week, work has been productive, Tuesday was a day off, I received my tax refund yesterday (which went straight to pay for the desert race that I stupidly agreed to run/walk/crawl with Mr C ugh), we met our fab friends last night and had an awesome meal at Tableau Bistro and tomorrow night, we are meeting up with a load of British ex-pats for what is no doubt going to be a very messy night. So after work today I head to my Hip Hop dance class to perfect my moves to Hurricane Chris’s Halle Berry (tbh, I was shit at it, like proper shit but hey it was fun and that’s what counts right). Anyways, I finish and go to get the bus home feeling happy, famished and looking forward to whatever concoction Mr C was knocking up for dinner (okay let’s be clear about this, when I say “knocking up” that doesn’t mean Mr C is nailing (in case I need to also clear this up, when I say “nailing,” I mean fuckin, shaggin, making love etc etc) me dinner, “knocking up” is also a term for throwing something together. )
If you’re still with me after that last paragraph, first of all, well done, I read that back and got proper fuckin lost. Secondly, bear with me, I’m almost at why my blood is boiling a wee (small not urine) bit.
So, I gets on the bus and all is well (that’s not really true, all wasn’t well in the first place. Like a dumb twat, I’d forgotten me sunglasses and was getting right blinded by the sun), I’m excited to get home for me dinner and to watch our new Netflix show Safe and boom, some horror gets on me bus and totally fucks up my smug life is great vibe……..cheers love.
A family gets on, a Mum, Dad, a stroller (buggy), two little people and an even smaller one. Now, I imagine you think I’m going to start banging on about the little people and the even smaller one but no, something happened that might surprise you and for sure surprised me………………
Next stop, some older bird gets on the bus and she, is the horror who pissed all over my week. The family had their stroller in the spot where the fold up chairs are and though there was plenty of other seats this bird said loud enough for the whole bus to hear and sound like a complete bitch “can you move this so at least one person can sit down.” The family of course, shuffled the little people, even smaller one and the stroller to accommodate her request. I sit there all quiet, still being blinded by the bloody sun and thinking about me dinner. Well my inner warrior, decides that now is the time to tear herself from whatever slaying she is doing elsewhere and bless me with her presence.
The even smaller person starts kicking off and though their Dad is doing his best to calm it down, the older bird cannot hide her miserable judgey self. At first, she starts glancing up at the family disapprovingly but then she openly glares at them, starts shaking her head and starts tutting away and that’s, when my inner Warrior (Shelly) puts in an appearance.
Unfortunately Shelly didn’t have to much time to amuse herself with the miserable bird as the next stop was ours and as I mentioned before, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Mr C was knocking up for dinner. Obvs we wasn’t going to stay quiet though. I purposely walk to the front even though it wasn’t the closest exit and said to misery “what do you expect, it’s just a baby” to which she replies “mind your own business.” Now I know, the mature thing to do, would have been to shake my head in disappointment and hope that misery would reflect on her behaviour and realize she’s being a bitch. I didn’t do that. I smiled at the family, said thank you to the bus driver and called misery a “judgey cow” as I stepped off the bus.
Do you know what, I don’t even like kids, they make me itch and tbh I don’t care for anyone who can’t buy a round but this miserable woman proper got on my tits (not literally), was a horrible person and was obviously making the Mum and Dad feel uncomfortable and thought she was for some delusional reason, superior. We taught her eh.
In other news: Mr C continues to hold onto a distinction on his MBA and though it’s not the same as my now amazing hip-hop dance skills, I do have to give credit where it’s due.
I know, I know, this is going to be another crude post and yet again I am talking about shit. At least this time it’s about human shit and not bird shit………..just read that back, it doesn’t make it better does it?!
So I have been at my new job now for 3 weeks, I was going to say 3 whole weeks but truth be told, none of those 3 weeks have been whole (cheers mate). Next week will be my first full week and tbh (that means ‘to be honest’ for you older folk, alright and folk my age) I don’t know how I’m going to do it! Like seriously how do people have jobs, have a social life and manage to do all that adulting stuff?! We have already transitioned to getting our groceries and Eric’s food delivered. We even have a bird who comes in and walks Eric most days (he loves her the traitorous little bastard). There was even talk about hiring a cleaner and someone to do the ironing the other day (apparently doing it after Sunday arvo drinking isn’t such a great idea and is a pretty pointless exercise).
When I wasn’t working I wasted so much time doing nothing, doing nothing was what took all my time up! Every time Mr C would ask what I’m doing, I would respond with “cleaning,” but we lived in a 1 bed 1 bath apartment. Now, every bit of time is accounted for, we have our routine scheduled TF. Wake up at 05:45, cuddle Eric until 06:00, I work out, Mr C takes Eric for a walk. Mr C leaves at 07:00, I leave at 07:30. We still don’t make the most of our time after work, though we are signing up to a Crossfit class next week to see if we like it. Mr C is also studying his MBA and I have important research to do, which includes watching TOWIE and any ‘Real Housewives of …….’ (don’t be a judgy twat, it’s v entertaining).
Anyways, I have totally digressed (I know right, how posh is that word. Posh AF me) and need to get onto the actual topic of this blog post as indicated in the title. So I am back in the the office world and where I work is v modern and all open concept and booths. There is approx. 30 peeps in the office (mostly birds) and we share 3 toilets (washrooms, bathrooms, restrooms, the loo, whatever you want to call it but basically, the place you go to shit and pee). These toilets are always v clean but bloody stink more often than should be deemed socially acceptable. Now I know what you’re thinking (okay some of you) but it’s a toilet, how else is it supposed to smell?!
I agree, you shouldn’t go to the toilet expecting it to smell of Roses, it’s a toilet for god sakes and has a very definitive function. But, it’s a public toilet, once you leave it you can guarantee someone else is going to use it after you. I almost threw up when I walked into one today, something which I haven’t done in a long time (okay, that’s lie, I threw up last Saturday but totally unrelatable, that was down to dodgy Oysters…..and far to much Cider on an empty stomach).
So be a sweetheart, have a shit before you come to work; unless you’re a Vegan, apparently their shit doesn’t smell!
In other news, nah I haven’t actually got any, far to busy working, drinking and talking shit to have other news!!