I am.....

tired.
Out of patience.
Out of cash.
Out of my mind.
I am...... done in.

Above all, I am totally sick of being so hopelessly single - somehow it's come as a bit of a shock to me that I would ever be on the shelf like this - I've been pretty much in relationships or being strongly petitioned to be in one since I was 15.
Flirting is even harder in an already tricky city, when you're generally chained to a buggy when out and about.
Like the guy I saw twice today, who checked me out in a long and hard over-the-shoulder-stand-still-to-look way, twice, while I had two children in tow. How can I respond to that?! It's not as though I can stop the kids and drag them back 200yards and go 'hiiii..... they're not mine, you know. Please. Date me.'
Still. It might be worth my while getting a T-shirt printed with words to that effect.

Thus disillusioned with my eternal spinster status, I actually signed back up to the dating site..

I got this far into my profile....

London can be an isolating place when you're single.
I know, I was warned, I should have listened.
Foolishly, I arrived in London for work without having packed a man in my luggage, and am now stuck in the single-girl-in-London-loop where I work too hard and meet too few!
Seeing as my downtime is mainly spent catching up on work and friends on the internet, it makes sense to utilise it for the hopeful expansion in my dating life too, and so, here I am.
I am...
A girl
A dreamer
Hopelessly excitable about pointless things
Stubborn & feisty, but hate confrontation
Shy but flamboyant
Totally confused by simple things
Impressed by conversation, good manners and intellect
Unimpressed by money, big muscles, and heavy drinking
I hate making decisions.
And I get myself in trouble for being brutally honest.
Would like to meet someone...
who thinks outside the box
who can keep me grounded

....and realised it sounded more like a blog post in the making than anything a prospective mate might read or respond to. Although... the kind of person I would like to have about would of course be utterly charmed by the way I write, and my description, but ultimately, on the internet, (and from experience, particularly this site) the men checking you out rarely have more to say then 'hi you look nice want to chat xxxx' GAH.

Also, as ever, I found myself on the verge of signing up for dates when I'm about to leave for 10days to work at a festival in deepest darkest countryside, which renders it beyond the utterly useless idea it already was.

And so, I am, again, single and without the time, cash or energy to even try doing anything about it.

The creepy local shop.

I live in London. On a busy bus route, and a 15 minute walk from one of the busiest train stations in the country. We're not short of shopping choices in the local area.
There's a choice of 4 major supermarkets (and an M&S foodhall) within about a mile of the house, and the normal London abundance of newsagents and smaller shops.
So today, I volunteer to run out and buy some bread so the boss's sickly husband can eat dry toast (I swear to god, if he passes on the vomiting bug I've managed to avoid getting directly from child no.1, I shall kill him with my bare hands.)

Me: *grabs jacket, handful of small change, heads for the front door.*
Boss: Where are you going?
Me:......erm.... Tescos? To get bread?
Boss: Why are you going to Tescos? Go out the back door, go to the corner shop, it's half the distance.
Me: Oh... yeah.... I guess so. But the corner shop scares me.
Boss: scares you?
Me: Tescos fine. Really. I'll go there.
Boss: How can the corner shop scare you?
Me: It smells funny and it creeps me out. And I don't trust it.
Boss: .............
Me: *sigh* Ok. I'll go. But I don't trust it....*walks to corner shop*
Approaches corner shop while on phone to sister...So, yeah, I thought I'd call, I've got a minute, just been sent off to the shop. I'm going to the tiny one I don't like, it smells funny.
Sister: How can you not like it? It's just a shop.
Me: Yeah, well, it smells, and there's..... a.... flashing...light.... SEE!!!! There's a police car outside. Something has happened in the area around the weird shop. Wait...2 cars.... I wonder why they're..... oh.. the shutter on the shop is half down...
Policeman: Sorry love, it's closed right now.
Me: *rolls eyes, turns for home, it starts to rain.* I KNEW IT WAS DODGY!!!!!!

I'm now wondering if that funny smell was a dead body hidden under the floorboards all this time.
What else warrants 2 police cars and 6 policemen in a corner shop in a nice family area of London?
Surely if it was a burglary, it only takes one policeman (if any bother showing up) to take a statement (that'll be filed away never to be seen again).

The other problem with not going to Tescos, is the fact that galaxy chocolate is currently £1 in there, and I was wearing clothes that I could smuggle it home in. The quest for toast was cancelled, and I'm now feeling deprived of sugar to such an extent that my nails are at risk of being bitten again after 2 months of growing them really nicely... BRB. Off to raid the cupboards....

Dead Thing Thursday

 While I was in California...

I found a dead squirrel. Yeah. Highlight of the trip right there:

And we saw lots of shops selling Mexican stuff. Although we didn't actually get to go to Mexico due to the high chances of ending up on dead thing thursday ourselves because people keep shooting people. I mean. Honestly. Naughty Mexico.

Mmm, pretty dead lady.
Oh, and then, a few days after taking a picture of the picture of a pretty day of the dead lady with flowers, I saw another one in living breathing 3D at the Labyrinth of Jareth Masquerade Ball. Which was awesome. I was a swamp pixie. And met a steam-punk Batman. (Details of that one to follow...)
Also courtesy of the Californian sun, I have a vast collection of dead peeling skin due to sunburn, but somehow I didn't think that would make as interesting a blog post photo..... so here's the pretty lady:

YAY for pretty hot dead thing thursday!