Trying to love my job.

I've come to the conclusion that every single woman in Chiswick has a baby. Every single one. I actually believe it's a requirement to live here. They all have really expensive prams, and about a third of the women are American women who married rich, which I think really says something about our culture. That reminds me, I got my 'Idaho? No, Udaho!' shirt last night, and I am going to wear it to work tomorrow. SO excited!!

I also have gotten to the point where I can't walk through Chiswick on my lunch break without seeing a client from the gym. So i'm like a celebrity, except instead of acting in movies, I answer phones. Yeah.

There is a garbage man in Chiswick who makes my day better, every day. He looks like the singer Mika, and every day he wears the same outfit- bright green pants, a yellow tshirt with some 80s icon on it, thick framed yellow sunglasses, and huge headphones. And this Mika guy dances whilest picking up rubbish. He dances constantly! He changes the garbarge bags, picks things off the floor, wheels his cart around... and dances. He's the poster boy for enjoying your job. He's completely oblivious that he's somewhat of a tourist attraction here in Chiswick. It almost makes me want to pick up rubbish, it seems like I'd enjoy that more than my job. After all, he loves it! He's so damn cool.

Damn, I almost got Olympic rower Peter Reed all to myself. He is SO yummy, just wanted to come in to row without his shirt on, in which case I'd go in and pretend to do laundry for an hour or so =D but we close in 20 minutes, so he went home. Damn. Gosh I'm weird!

I've been fighting off a migrane since I got up this morning, which is why I'm more negative than usual today. But now (well, in 20 minutes) I'm going to meet my good friend Kiwi Jen Party (yes, she has three names) to tell her all the secret and exciting things I've been up to. You know, like being an international spy and such. 007.5 yeah. And she's going to tell me about Ascot, and about going to Fabrik this weekend. 15 minutes.

18 days until I go home.

Too chubby to be indie.

Me and skinny jeans just won't ever be friends.
I'd have to become anor-sex-ic to be indie.
I think if you get all your cool indie bands from your cool indie friends, instead of finding them yourself, you kind of arent indie, though you may look it.
I can't/won't do edgy things with my hair, because then I'd have to deal with it.
Being scared to be edgy is most definately not indie.
I think I'll just have to keep lusting after indie chicks, as it seems too much pressure to become one. Damn.
You're so indie-rock it's almost an art.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy

Today was Father's Day. Everywhere were daughters and dads, walking holding hands, at the pubs, with presents, laughing, talking, smiling. I didn't think much of it until I saw a girl of nine with a big scratch on her leg. She had obviously had a nasty fall, and her father was carrying her, you could tell she was trying so hard not to cry. It was heartbreaking and beautiful, and made me wish I was at home with my dad today so much. He's done so much for me, and I want him so badly to be here with me right now. Don't tell him, but I miss him SO much.

I love you Daddy!

Superheroes collide

I wore my Batman tshirt to work today. I sat on the way home on the bus, and a guy with a Superman hat got on and sat down right next to me.
IT WAS EPIC.

Diva?

I just got yelled at by a celebrity! Vanessa Redgrave, of Titanic, Camelot, and many other famous movies, came into the gym for her session, and read the sign I have at my desk that says 'We will be closing at 7pm on Friday 13th June.' She asked 'Are you closing forever?' and when I explained that no, we just are closing early because we are having a party for an intern, she had a go at me because the sign didn't use proper English! It should be 'We will be closing early at 7pm on Friday 13th June'. That's all well and good, and I agree with her that the sign is incorrect, but she didn't need to YELL at me in front of like three people! Very uncomfortable. I'm not even going to change the damn sign. Because I'm THAT badass.

Um, no.

I was out with a guy who, after hours of intellectual political conversation, informed me that I look about fourteen years old. Um, no. And then he didn't understand how that was an insult. First of all, he's twenty seven. Calling a girl he's out with HAS to be an insult, unless... he's into that kind of thing. Awful. He MEANT to say that I have a baby face, which I have been getting a lot lately, as everyone around me seems to be at least four years older than me, and because those people like to point out how much younger I am. Maybe he was just mad that I argued against his hero, Obama, for about an hour and a half. Not that I'm for McCain, either. I think I'm just still sore that Hillary lost, which apparently means I'm a lesbian feminist, according to this guy, who, thanks to Giorgie showing up at our pub, I know is named Paul, and not 'lambourghini guy'. I told him he was a bit sexist considering how intelligent he seemed to be, and he laughed. I had a good time, I must admit, and I do love the car. I think he felt bad about the pre-teen comment because he sent one of those cute awkward over-eager 'i had a great time and can't wait to see you again' texts I used to send after dates in high school. I'm really not as judgemental as I think I come across in this blog. Or perhaps I am, because now I'm even judging myself... I'm so complicated.

Usher in '08

I believe Usher can get anyone to do anything. His newest hit, 'Love in this Club', is about basically screwing 'on the couch, on the table, on the bar, on the floor'... and in the bathroom of some sweaty, dirty club. And he doesn't care who's watching. Honestly, its a pretty disgusting concept. On the floor? That sounds sticky, smelly, unhygenic, and with all the feet movin' around down there... crowded. I think for any girl with some level of self esteem, love on the floor of a club would be a resounding 'NO'. But Usher makes it sound so good, about halfway through the song I find myself thinking, well if they clean the floor of that club every night, then it can't be THAT dirty... and the couch might be comfortable... so I declare that dear Usher should run for Prez this year. Because if he can get girls to discrace themselves in public 1.5 minutes into a song... then he can do ANYTHING. Vote Usher in '08. He'll make love in your club, America.