I did it again!  Do you remember the seriously alarming faux pas I made regarding blow drying and erm blowing?  You can remind yourself HERE.

You would think in view of that, well I would really be careful about what I say wouldnt you?  This time, its not quite soooo bad, but bad enough.

A couple of ladies and myself decided that we needed a little pampering afternoon (after the rigours of St Patrick’s Day of course – and because of this I have now given everything up for Lent by the way – well almost everything ;)

So I managed to get us a rather swish package at a swanky spa in London.  In we waltzed and the receptionist asks me very nicely ‘What package do you have Madam’ ‘Its Madamoiselle’ I hiss (only kidding :)

Anyway, I say…..

‘We shall be having the Erot….erm….ic thing- y’.

You know when something just falls out of your mouth?  You dont?  Oh.

Now, of course it was meant to be The Exotic Package NOT the bloomin’ Erotic ‘Thingy’

Well everyone just turned around and stared at me.

‘Too much, erm,  I dunno what an earth Ive been watching on TV, hahahaha’ I lamely said.

It has to stop, really.

I keep bumping into celebrities.  No, Im not one of those nutcase celeb stalkers, we just happen to be in the same place, oh I say!

I was at a party at the Mandarin Oriental the other night when this very, very famous sportsman walked towards me and stopped.  ‘Well you look familiar’ says I with a twinkle in my eye (no he was not a client) and he said ‘Oh hello!, how are you?, havent seen you for ages!’ (‘more like never’ thought I)  As he carried on talking I thought  ‘He has absolutely no idea who I am,  hehehe’  No I didnt put him out of his misery, that would have been rude and much less fun.

At another ‘do’ and I bump into  Sven-Goren Eriksson’s ex, ‘Mwah, mwah; Nancy darling!  How are you?!’

Oh I am wicked :)

PS, Did you see that piece in the Sunday Times last weekend, My Courtesan Life of Sex and Champers?  I tried to link to it but it wouldnt allow me to.  Search for it though, its a good read.

Miss Ayo-Sue sent me this and, well you will read for yourself and see how funny it is.  But then, reading ”perfect day”, I had to pop on a bit of Lou Reed’s Perfect Day (as you do) on my sexy ipod.  Got to love that ipod, (catch Lou Reed below, happy memories – I was introduced to Mr Reed at the age of 14, no not him personally; his music. I used to kiss boys to his music, Oh my!) and thanks A-S, you gorgeous thing xxx

PS  It is probably too tiny to read on here but click on it and it will take it you to  a window where you can read it properly.

English Escort

Do you remember that contemporary art installation at Saatchi; ‘My Bed’  by Tracey Emin?  Am I right in thinking it sold for £20,000?  Why, oh why didnt I think of it?  My bed is much more interesting, especially after we have wriggled around in it for a while ;)  I am a very tidy girl usually of course but you can imagine all the paraphernalia when Mr has been here;  clothes discarded through passion, decadently strewn knickers, a stocking here or there, tissues, massage bottle tops, empty champagne flutes and the rest.  Darn, I wish I had thought of it first.

Upscale Escort

Mr B sent me this fine joke, thanks B x

A man in a hot air balloon realised that he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He decended a bit more and shouted, “Excuse me, can you help? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don’t know where I am.”

The woman below replied, “You’re in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You’re between latitude 51 and 52 degrees north, and between longitude1 and 2 degrees west.”

“You must be in IT,” said the balloonist.

“I am,” replied the woman, “How did you know?”

“Well,” answered the baloonist,” everything you told me is technically correct, but I’ve no idea what to make of your information, and the fact is I’m still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help at all. If anything, you’ve delayed my trip.”

The woman below responded, “You must be in Management.”

“I am,” replied the balloonist, “but how did you know?”

“Well,” said the woman, “You don’t know where you are or where you’re going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise, which you’ve no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position as you were before we met, but now, somehow, it’s my f****ing fault!.”

Tate Britain is having an exhibition soon,  of saucy postcards, cartoons, British comic art and suchlike.  You know the naughty, highly suggestive postcards you used to get when you went on a seaside holiday? (do they still have them? and am I showing my age now?)

Anyway, Tate Britain is a mere hop and a skip from me, so we shall have to take a peak wont we?

In the past, I have shared with you a couple of emails on the blog, you know the ones , from timewasters, scam artists and the like.  I dont get many these days but I used to get quite a few.  Anyway, I was pootling around the net today, as you do, and came across this brilliant website.  Its written by a lady in the US, just take a look, had me giggling for ages  she has some fab comments, loving it :) x

http://www.thetimewaster.com/index.html

Oh and I found this too recently… hahaha

Oh I am a naughty girl.  Do you know when people ask you (in all sorts of situations) to fill in a form?  You eventually get to the age bit -  20-30, 30-40, 40-50, 65+ that sort of thing.  It was a marketing thing to go in a draw or some such in a department store.

I ticked the 65+ box today.  The lady said.  ‘I think you made a mistake Madam’  ‘Oh did I?’  says I innocently.  I took another look and said  ‘No, everything is correct’.  ‘But your age!’  she said.  ‘Yes?’ I said  ‘Well, oh my goodness, you dont look… I mean, YOU LOOK BLOODY FANTASTIC!’   she cried.  ‘Well thank you so much’ says I, beaming.  ‘Stay out of the sun, moisturise and plenty of water, love’  was the advice I gave her, smug as you like :)   Oh I so hope this does not come back to bite me on the bum in 30 years time and I  hope I can still be saying that when I am 65+  hehe.

I am a pathelogical winder-upper (again, new word?) but funnily enough not a liar.  I am rubbish at that.  Find it too hard to do. Wish I could sometimes, it would have saved me a lot of , well…. you know.

So what’s the difference?, you ask.   I think deceit is lying and mischievousness is winding-up.

Here’s another one;  when I was a mere lass of around 15, I remember strolling through the town centre and being accosted by those Scientologists.  At the time, they used to offer insights into your psyche in surreptitious ways but now they offer ways to de-stress (or should that be distress?) you – in surreptitious ways. Same thing, different message.

So, as I say, I was strolling along, when one of them approached me beaming  and said… ‘Would you like a personality test, young lady?’   ‘I am so sorry’  I said  ‘I cant have one of those, I dont have one, a personality that is’    and blithely carried on…  I didnt dare look back. Eeek!

Is that lying?  I dont like to think so.  But oh dear; I know, I know,  its naughty; so why do I still laugh at these things? :)

Now then, apparently the English ladies’ breasts are getting bigger.  So says an article recently, which I cannot for the life of me remember where I read  – Observer?  Anyway, the gist of the story is that once we were a B cup, now we are a D – and it has nought to do with fakeries either.  Obesity! you shout. Apparently not.   We are just better nourished now and can reach our full potential.  Oh er!   What happens in 50 years time when we are super nourished and fall over because our boobies are a size Z?  It has to happen in the scheme of things.  Have a little pause here just to imagine it :)  ……….

Mr S came around the other day and said of mine  ‘They are massive!’  ‘No they are not!’  I say almost defensively and a little embarassed. Why?  Why am I embarassed?  I’ll tell you why.  When you are growing up, you dont want anything that makes you stand out, you just want to morph into a big pool of teenage friends, like paint does when you put several colours in together.  Different but the same. Does that make sense?  When boys shout crude things at you when you are 12, 13, 14 you hate it.  I hated it. I hated my boobs for years because of that.

I love them now – of course :)  Girls pay a lot of money to have their boobs the same size as mine, and men, well they like them for sure  :)  So no complaints,  no, not now, I like them very much. I call them the twins. So I dont know why I came over all coy.  Some old reactions take a while to conquer.  Next time I will say  ‘Yes they are, and thank you kindly!’  (Oh and by the way, yes that pic is of mine,  its an old one – about 4 years ago)