I’m not a negative sort of person. In fact I think I can describe myself as, well, overwhelmingly sunny. However, some things just get you down. Some things are well, rather unavoidable, so here is my first sunny instalment, of ‘Things that ruined my week’.
I’m going to start with something that happened on Thursday, because, like me, you are about to have your week ruined, when it is just about over. Firstly, what the hell happened to Joey Tribbiani? “I thought we had a deal god?” I, for one, am a happy loser, that needs at the very least, a daily dose of Friends to keep me regular. My mood that is. On top of that, I love Joey. Love him. Yes I didn’t entirely care for the Joey-loves-Rachel and months later Rachel-loves-Joey-storyline, but come on! Joey in Phoebe’s pregnancy pants? Joey falling down a lift in Days our Lives? Joey’s secret roof top party? Joey and Janice’s day of fun? Sandwiches? And now, well he kind of looks like my dad, with a slightly less bulbous nose. Oh Joey Tribbiani, don’t save your sandwich, save yourself! I’m sure it’s a very excellent sandwich, but is it worth looking like George Clooney’s less attractive twin?
And that was just the icing on an already sludgy cake. I will now take issue with Great Britain herself. Yes the whole of you Britain, you, your entire incompetent self. Lets start with the facts. Lets start with the fact that just over a month ago I was waist deep in snow, in the American West. The wild wild, snowy snowy, American West. Blizzardly Blizzards swept through and yet, not once were we confined to the great indoors. Not once was there a motorway or mountain pass so covered in snow that we couldn’t get to our next destination. Look at you Britain, look at you in the heat! You melt, your underground train network is a deathly sauna, two words – air conditioning. Now look at you! West London is covered in a mere dusting of snow and down the road at Heathrow people are spending days on the airport floor. Rumour has it that at Edinburgh just before Christmas so many people were stranded at the airport, that John Lewis let them stay in the bedding department! Its not that I don’t love you, you’ve been my home for 10 years now, but dear god, we’re supposed to be the first world. The example of a functioning, capable nation…yet we cant even put enough salt on the ground to facilitate a walk from my house to the supermarket. God help you Britain.
My final rant, (I promise, oh bored reader) is about another bridesmaidly duty that has been bestowed upon me. It seems, yes, it has once again fallen to one of my many coupled up friends, to don the bling and pick her inferiors. So after what was quite possibly a solid month’s worth of scoffing, drinking and general celebratory weight gain, I was tasked with going shopping for bridesmaid dresses. Not only that, but my lardy ass was (to its surprise) the lardiest amongst a group of near anorexic fellow bridesmaids. Fatty McFat here was wedging herself into the size 14s, while the other two were flitting about in size 8s and 10s. Talk about soul destroying. Well at least my mum thinks I’m the prettiest and despite not meeting the other girls is almost certain I have a better personality.
