My first blog...

Wow, how strange. I've never blogged before. I am pretty excited by this prospect. I can write about anything, anyone or anywhere. I feel this blog may lack purpose at the moment, but hey, it's making me smile so surely that's gotta be a good thing.

Well, perhaps I'll start with a bit about what's happening in my world. That's what these things are for, right? And a rant, too? Brilliant! So here goes. After three years of living it up in the big smoke, I've swapped my high-flying glossy magazine job for two months travelling around South America. Perhaps not the smartest thing to do given the stupid recession and all (my dad still isn't talking to me) and the fact that I've NEVER backpacked before (what? I can only fit three pairs of shoes in my super-swish backpack? Jeez, I am screwed), but hey you gotta just live (as Welsh Elliot, my former dance teacher once said). Now I haven't embarked upon my travels just yet. Oh no. I am currently living it up in my hometown... the glorious, the wonderful, the fan-bloody-tastic, P City! Yep, that's right, Preston. Don't get me wrong, I like Preston, I'd even go as fast to say I love it (sometimes) - who can complain when two double vodkas (mixer included) costs less than a fiver (I did what last weekend?) and you can purchase a mega tasty jacket potato, cheese and beans for £2, then sit on a bench, surrounded by pigeons, in the middle of the market and get chatted up by a drunk at 3 in the afternoon! It's pretty cool. And while I do lament for my old life, I am trying to think of the latter - the potato that is, not the drunk!

Um, yes this blog is still rather pointless, I know. So what else have I done? I've been to the post office many a time, I've got a bit of an ebay habit! Some ASBO's just screamed obscenities about my baggy jeans (I ran). And I went on a date with a 40-year-old (oh the shame). This is what boredom does to me. And the reason I mention his age is because I'm not 40, not nearly, and no, I'm not ageist - well maybe a little. It was actually quite fun, aside from the fact that he's into fitness (I on the other hand can run for five minutes before dying), I think he was wearing fake tan (I'm 'of colour' so it seems kinda pointless to me) and he matched the colour of his shoes to his belt to his bracelet (ever heard of overkill?).

Nevertheless it was a most entertaining three hours where we talked hamstrings, Camden and bingo wings - oh and mid-life crisis's! I even thought it went quite alright up until he tried to pin me to a wall in broad daylight. That I can forgive, if it wasn't seven in the evening and I wasn't sober I may have gone along with it (yes alcohol is my crutch). However, what really rattled my cage was when he suggested we meet again on Saturday and yes, you guessed it, never called. I waited for two days, then my impatience got the better of me, so I asked him out, then there was no reply, so I sent a mildly crazed message how all men were weirdos and yeah, just weirdos. Hey, I'm on a time limit, don't you know (and not desperate at all, although this blog seems to suggest otherwise). Needless to say there was no reply! That's right, I have officially been dumped by a fake-tan wearing, convertible-driving, bracelet-matching 40-year-old! And now I think I am starting to sound like that crazy little ginger girl from He's Just Not That Into You! Don't judge me! It's my first blog! I don't know what I'm writing! I've never done this before! And that's why I am going to stop! Now!

Comments would be most welcomed, or advice, or just general chit chat, ooh or maybe a new word for the week. I also think I will end with some kind of cool sign off every time! Brap brap? Does that work? No, not really. Okay then I will go with my usual and try and improve next time.

Peace out

PS This blogging malarky rocks!