I ask you...

I actually feel like my PMT is controlling me. I keep going to say things, and then just milliseconds before the utterance leaves my mouth, I manage to stop myself. Will it get to the point where I can't stop myself? Tell me, would the following statements be best left unsaid? Or would their verbalisation be merely a small dot on the pile of crap that's spoken every day anyway?

1. Why are you so ugly? Were you born that way, or is this something that happened in an accident?
2. Can you massage my feet? The hormones coursing around my body are giving me a feeling of severe bloatedness and my feet are suffering under my new found weight.
3. I think you're highly attractive - you must have good genes - would you like to donate some sperm that I can freeze and save for a later date when the need to be a mother inevitably arrives?

I'm thinking the latter is just a fair enough question worth posing if applicable. But as to the other two - well, my hormone riddled mind just can't work out their social acceptability. Please advise.

Upset

So I'm feeling a general sense of upset. This upset could be stemming from a slightly premature bout of PMT, or it could be from a number of things which pissed me off this morning.

Firstly, Colin decided that climbing up the inside of my dressing gown while I was straightening my hair was a good idea, until he realised that he couldn't get back down without performing a maneuver that involved twisting around and digging his little claws into my upper thigh. This pissed me off.

Secondly, I made a cup of coffee and ate my bowl of muesli - I enjoyed it wholeheartedly, until I remembered that I start the next 12 Week Challenge in exactly 4 days, and any joy that I previously obtained from the consumption of food and beverages would shortly be taken away from me. Pissed off.

Thirdly, on my drive into work I noticed a new billboard which was advertising 'Pro Life' - it had a picture of an unborn foetus and a speech bubble indicating that the 2 month old foetus was saying 'I can suck my thumb now'. This pissed me off beyond belief - so much so that I embarked on an angry lecture to the cars around me about the disgusting state of affairs in the world that indicate it's ok to force your views on other people on their drive to work. It's pure proselytising, which is illegal on most university campuses, so why is it not illegal everywhere else? Hmmm? Then I decided that I would take a stand, and instead of just saying that I am Pro Choice, I'd go as far as to buy a can of spray paint and graffiti the billboard with an Anti Life slogan of some description. Yes, I am Anti Life, and proud. And pissed off.

And fourthly, the gradual realisation that yes, I am suffering from a premature bout of PMT, has pissed me off.

Back To My Usual Self

One of my most loyal fans came to my house on the weekend to meet Colin. After the familiar "Isn't he cute - you're so lucky to have such an attractive pussy" diatribe, she got on to more serious issues; "What the fuck is going on with your blog?"

I admit, the posts of late have been, at best, contrived. The sporadic nature of their postage is merely a side effect of a deeper problem lying within my head, which I choose to blame this lack of quality on. This module of pain which has caused the lack of literary freedom I have been suffering is called 'Wisdom Tooth'.

Perhaps ironically, the presence of my wisdom tooth has apparently taken away my ability to write for the sake of writing; to speak for the sake of speaking. It's all been too fucking serious lately, and my blog has suffered. So, I'd like to inform you all, oh avid readers, that the old Bazza has returned. The tramadol and other opiates and sedatives that have been necessary during the time of wisdom tooth have gone. My brain is now back to it's previous state - it's state of non-wisdom, if you will.

I would like to make it known that this blog spits in the face of wisdom, and curses the perils of a theme. Such structures are not wanted here - this blog is a free spirit and it will continue to express feelings of woe, hatred and complaint in its most pleasantly unwise voice.

I'm not a big fan of...

... lots of things. Today, I would like to vent some pent up anger and display the things that I currently despise about this world that we live in.

I'm not a big fan of family feuds; being ignored by a family member; people who don't return phone calls; people who don't respond to text messages clearly stating a question; people who make decisions that clearly have an effect on you and don't tell you about it; people who can't see that you're in a bad mood and need to be just left alone and continue to make jokes and play around in your presence and then get even 'funnier' when you get angry; sandwiches that have tomato in them which is frozen; wisdom teeth; toothbrushes that hurt too much to use properly when your wisdom teeth are coming through; banana smoothies that are too icy; wrinkles; people who are far to adept at hiding their feelings so you never ever have any fucking idea what the hell they're feeling; people who cause you to be too afraid to express your feelings in front of them because they don't express theirs; fax machines; cats that scratch everything BUT the scratching pole that you bought them; winter.

I think that's it. Thank you for your time.

Do I Smell?

In the never ending quest to become the most desirable woman in the world, the female race need to consider numerous factors: Clothing, hairstyle, waist to hip ratio, and perhaps the most important factor is, a woman's scent.

Putting the natural smell of raging hormones to one side, each woman has their own smell. Some smell musty (mainly elderly women who cover their mustiness with Yardley's Lavender perfume), some smell toxic-sweet (largely 10-16 year old high school girls using too much Impulse Body Spray or Body Shop's Vanilla perfume), and some smell just right (in a Baby Bear kind of way, not the popular Kellogg's cereal).

It's this 'just right' that I think I'm still searching for. I've used many perfumes in my time, and at the tender age of 18 found Noa by Cacharel which was perfect for me. Unfortunately, Cacharel decided to stop making it - was I consulted? No. Once I'd gotten over the anger of this clear crime against me, I realised I needed to find my new Baby Bear scent. I visited Chanel, Yves St Laurent, Jean Paul Gaultier and Issey Miyake - all to no avail. But I believe now I've stumbled across a pair of perfumes that might just fit.

Agent Provocateur's Maitresse and Stella McCartney Rose Absolute.

Two very different scents; The former is distinctly earthy and woody, the latter is flowery and sweet. After testing both on the men in my office, I believe the 'woody' element of the former may prove literal, while the 'flowery' of the latter may be less, um, confronting.

So, do I want to create a veritable brothel around my person, or an air of comfort, sweetness, and all things pleasant?

Perils of Motherhood

Don't get me wrong, having my little treasure, Colin, in my life is a joy - it's a blessing - it's full of rewards. But there are some things that I don't think I was prepared for.

Firstly, I now have responsibilities outside of ensuring my own shelter, hygiene, feeding and watering. I now have to ensure the shelter, hygiene, feeding and watering of another being. I can't just come home and make my own dinner; I have to make Colin's dinner first. I can't just wake up and head straight for my muesli; I have to get Colin's breakfast first. This constant 'putting someone else in front of myself' is harder than you think.

Secondly, my schedule is all out of whack. I ran a tight ship Pre-Colin, and now... well now I am having some major logistical issues. This morning is a perfect example: I woke up, fed Colin, then instead of my usual-to-the-second ritual, I left the house 20 minutes late with an empty stomach, had forgotten to take all my various pills and potions, hadn't washed my hair, and had mistakenly put on yesterday's underwear instead of finding a clean pair. So the first part of my day was spent finding food, supplementing my vitamin deficiency, and finding a suitable vessel to carry home my underwear which I'd had to discard in favour of a commando approach to the day.

As I reflect on my motherhood issues, young Colin is chewing the edge off the spine of a very rare copy of Alfred Jarry's 'Ubu Roi'. Is this an allegory for the changed state of affairs? Is his choice of book possibly reflecting my complete lack of understanding and comprehension for the situation that I've chosen? Or do I need to just give in and watch my collection of rare pieces of literature, and indeed, the rarity and perfection of my somewhat obsessive lifestyle, turn into kibble?

Pod Rules

As most of you know, I work in an office comprising many pods. My pod is the ultimate pod, and every man and his dog wants to join. In the last couple of months we've welcomed a new member - known as IT Helpdesk - and I'd like to comment on his loyalty...or lack thereof.

When a person is a member of a pod, or indeed, any club, society or elite group, there must be an element of exclusivity. Joining the pod necessarily means that you take on the manners of said pod, and act accordingly. IT Helpdesk has committed the following crimes since joining:

1. Regression to old Pod - that's right, not only does he consistently enter and converse with his old pod, but he also joins in on their 'pod meeting' on a weekly basis.
2. Misdirection of Interest - a Pod member must retain a constant state of disinterest to the goings-on of other pods. Conversing with other pods in an inquisitive manner is just not on.
3. Misdirected loyalty in general - when your pod decides to slag off and laugh at the expense of other pod members, your interaction is required. Defending, and covering up for, other pod members is a crime of such a magnitude that it may be unforgivable.

In short, IT Helpdesk needs to keep these basic rules in mind and change his disloyal ways. As we're populating the most popular pod in the office, a replacement member won't be hard to come by.

Consider this your first warning.