StickGirl Joins the Gym

You may have noticed a lack of posting from me since the New Year, and that's because I've been busy doing silly New Year things like joining the gym.

Yes. I've finally crumbled and have joined that awful, cheery, brightly lit place they call The Gym. I thought it was a good idea at the time. I was so motivated that first week, I almost became one of Them. I even went out and bought Shiny New Gym Clothes!

But then the second week rolled around and I went back to normal. So now I'm just paying a ridiculous amount of money every month, that quite frankly could be spent on shoes.

The other week I went to a Body Pump class - supposed to be good for your arms and back. And let's face, these spaghetti arms need it. I had to lift weights in that class. Yes, I StickGirl, lifted weights.

Pause for laughter.

But then the weights got too heavy and I was stuck at the FRONT OF THE CLASS with the BAR ABOVE MY HEAD and I couldn't put it down because it was TOO HEAVY (sounds like that doesn't makes sense, and actually yes, it doesn't make sense - but that should give you an idea of my state of panic!) and everyone carried on with their squats and crazy weight lifting while little old weedy arms (that's me) was frozen with a massive bar of weights (ok, just small weights) up in the air! Eventually the instructor just told me to put the bar down, so I did. Bad times.

I got lots of consolatory smiles from the older ladies in the class, and a few even talked to me afterwards to find out 'how I got on'. Bad times I tell you.

So the moral of the story is: buy shoes not gym membership.

Friday the 13th

Incase you didn't know, this Friday is no ordinary Friday - it's Friday the 13th. I don't usually believe in all that bad luck malarky. I don't look out for four leaf clovers and I certainly don't carry around a rabit's foot or a horse shoe (what's the deal with all the feet??) Let alone touching wood. I mean it's touching wood. Seriously, how is that going to help?

BUT. I can't help feeling a sense of impending doom as this Friday the 13th of ALL Fridays, I have to give a presentation to the Board and Chief Exec. AND I have to drive up to Milton Keynes to do it. Why can't they come to meeee?

I'm pretty nervous, although Mr Chief Exec (he's a newbie) was in the office the other day and agreed with me that we should change the working week to two days on, five days off. So I think it'll all be alright.

Call yourself an Escalator?! You're just an overgrown flight of stairs!

I've just realised that it's been well over a year since my showdown with the escalator at Kings Cross. And I'd just like to point out that I still have the scars on my legs.

But I prefer to call them battle wounds.

Life's a movie

Driving to work this morning I went passed a pair of men's work boots, jeans and other items of clothing strewn across the middle of the road - I thought that only happens in the movies!

That was at the beginning of my journey. Two hours later I arrived at work. Thanks to the downpour last night a bunch of country lanes got flooded - damn those windy lanes. So I had to travel miles and miles to get to work, crossing rivers and motorways (well big puddles and the M3) - all with just one measly bar of petrol left on my gauge and the MoonPig song stuck in my head (no amount of radio can get rid of it).

It's official. I miss the snow.

Tracker Bar Outrage

My desk drawer is permanently stocked up with important things like post-it notes, staples, screen wipes, business cards, cuppa soups and tracker bars. The latter two being the most vital to my working day.

But the other day my tracker bar caused me no less than SHEER OUTRAGE.

I had gone back to the good old chocolate chip bars after finally admitting that buying the raisin version doesn't actually make them (or me) any healthier - when the work experience girl pointed out that the bar inside the wrapper was in fact half the size of the packaging.

SHEER OUTRAGE I tell you! I'm calling a boycott (just after I finish my last pack...)