I can’t chat for long, as I’m at work. Dirk just visited me here, the lusty monkey. He would have humped my leg if I’d let him.

He was whispering that he still wants me, he must have me, he won’t give up until I’m in his bed, my breasts are beautiful, blah blah blah.

I asked him about the blonde who I heard that he’s shagging and he denied it. I said I didn’t believe him; that he probably just wanted to keep his options open, yadda yadda yadda. He kept on trying to kiss me, to touch me but I was quick on my feet and avoided his crude advances.

Is it too much to ask for a simple life? I ask you. Gotta get back to work before they sack me.

It’s November, and we’re back to black! (If you prefer the hot pink look you can use the theme switcher on the top left.)

Sorry for the technical issues over the past couple of days. I needed to move to another web host, which involved lots of downloading and uploading. I tell you, watching those files being re-uploaded was like being thirteen again, on a day-trip to a fun-fair at the seaside playing one of those horse-racing games. Come on upload 10, number 13 is gaining on you. Only one megabyte to go! Except of course, that all the “horses” were mine, and I hadn’t paid to play. A girl’s gotta amuse herself somehow.

So anyway, it’s November. I’m not joining in NaNoWriMo (novel writing month) or even NaBloPoMo (blog every day of the month), but do come here if you want a distraction from all that hard work. (By the way, I’ve got a spare copy of No Plot, No Problem if anyone wants it.)

I admit that I’ve been a bit unorganised on the blogging front recently, but I’ve decided to have some regular features each week to keep things ticking over nicely. I’ll discuss them with you in more detail on Sunday.

On the personal front, things are getting better. Work still sucks though, and that’s a whole ‘nother blog post for y’all. On Tuesday I got a free cookie, cheeseburger, and can of Sprite from my local shops, for being a nice girl. In the evening I spent a few hours with Miguel and his housemate, then said hi to the cute friendly Turkish kebab guy on the way home. I’m down to one Prozac pill a day and Dirk has apparently found a new girl for his adulterous attentions. Like I said, life is good.

Oh, and sorry about that strange post on Monday. Let’s forget it ever happened.

And I’ve finally found the right moment to use this pic of Jenny McCarthy, a samurai told me it was her 35th birthday:

The people have spoken! According to the results of my recent poll, my readers like to read about my life and my random thoughts.

Here’s a brief summary of the last 10 days or so in my life, I had been planning to write this last Sunday but my internet problems made it impossible. (more…)

The sleazy married cafe-manager wannabe-adulterer turns 39 today. All I gave him was a birthday handshake.

No funny business.

I know I haven’t blogged much about my love-life lately, partly because I’m not actually dating anyone, and partly because it’s a bloody mess despite that fact.

At the moment I appear to have 3 suitors:

1. A guy who reads this blog, so I can’t say much about him. He doesn’t live in the UK, so nothing much can happen with him for now. (And it’s not Dr Monkey! )
2. A guy I met in Jamaica, who recently informed me that he wants to impregnate me! Like that’s ever going to happen.
3. Dirk Dastardly. He came to my workplace recently and told me that he still wants me (again). Yet again I said no. He told me that he’d had some doubts about me because someone had told him that I’d made a gesture referring to a blow job (WTF!), but he’d since decided that they were lying about me. He wouldn’t tell me who it was in case I decided to unleash some vengence on the lying prick.

Yesterday was a peculiar day.

In the morning I received an envelope in the post with a postmark from my former employer (the university of sloth). Asking myself what the hell it could be I opened it and found that some imbecile there had decided to send me a request from their photocopier company for a meter reading. My name was on it as the department contact, but surely 7 months after leaving that dungeon of torture my former colleagues might have realised that I don’t work there anymore…

I was peeved as hell at work. I whinged all day to my colleague about how much pressure I felt there. She was very sympathetic, but I feel that I need to be more careful about what I say to her. My workload is very heavy, and I do feel like I’m doing a full-time job in part-time hours. Kay told me that she has worked in Administration job for the last 30 years. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I couldn’t do it. If I felt that I was going to work in Admin for another 30 years I might just give up. I just don’t find it interesting. I also sometimes get the feeling that people look down on me for being an Administrator, and I hate that feeling.

I don’t feel nice enough to work at my current workplace. All the niceness that I may have possessed a few years ago was sucked out of me at the university of hell. So now I’m just a jaded shell of a person. I can’t believe I thought I could be a counsellor, or a volunteer with the Samaritans. I still wouldn’t mind being an Agony Aunt though…

Dirty Dirk came to see me again at work in the afternoon. It was the same old story; he still wants me, do I still want him? I said no - I just like him as a mate, but I offered to give up going to the cafe if it bothered him. Maybe I should anyway, all that junk food isn’t good for me.

Still haven’t written anything since Sunday, but I’m hoping that Wednesday will be a better day. I need a pick-me-up, like a back massage or a facial. I got my blood test results back and I’m all-clear for malaria, etc. I must have just been extremely run-down the other day. I’m taking extra vitamin-C to boost my immunity

Went back to that cafe for lunch. While I was tucking into some spicy chicken and rice a young Chinese woman entered the cafe to sell pirate DVDs.

Dirk called her over to his table (he was eating his own lunch) and browsed her wares. “Do you have any sexy ones?” he asked. She didn’t understand his question and looked at him quizzically. He asked her again a couple more times; eventually she understood and took out at least 50 porn DVDs.

He looked through the pile then asked her if any of the girls looked like me (while pointing at me)! Everyone in the cafe laughed, and I told him to shut up. He repeated the question a few more times, and I asked him if he wanted me to become a porn star! The silly twit just grinned at me. Then he haggled with the dealer to get 5 DVDs for £10 (instead of 3 for £10).

After she left we all somehow got onto the subject of Bruce Lee and ended up watching Enter the Dragon on the telly in the corner. I impressed the guys from the Thai restaurant next door with my knowledge of Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Zhang Ziyi, Michelle Yeoh, and Tony Jaa. It was fun.

Then I went back to work.

I hadn’t seen Dirk for a few weeks, though I’d been back to the caf’ a few times. He’s been stuck in the kitchen washing dishes after sacking one of his staff whilst in a rage about something or other.

It’s been nice going to the café without having to endure his leering glances. I’ve just been hanging out with the old guys there, having a laff and chatting about whatever. It’s nice, I feel like I almost belong.

He appeared from out of the kitchen at lunchtime today, wearing khaki shorts and scruffy shoes. Sweating. As he greeted us I felt compelled to yank on a few of the hairs on his pale legs…

An hour later he came to my workplace (again). We had a brief chat about general stuff (including my stagnant love-life).

As he walked away we had the following exchange:

DIRK: You’ve put on some weight haven’t you?

PJ: Probably.

DIRK: Your tits still look great though.

PJ: Thanks, I know.

I often said to myself that going to Dirk’s cafe was like walking into an episode of Eastenders, only set in South London. There were the gruff old men with hearts of gold hidden beneath their rough exteriors, a wise old woman who is sharper than she looks, a guy with a limp, a family business and a lecherous married git. I’m not eighteen anymore, so why did I think I was playing the role of Stacey, getting mixed up with a married bloke who had no respect for me other than as a sex object?

I haven’t blogged about this for ages, and my regular readers may have thought that I’d come to my senses and stayed away from Dirk, as I’d intended. If only.

We have shared two more interludes, but we did NOT shag. Of course he wanted to. Part of me wanted to get him out of my system, and the other part of me just enjoyed the attention of an attractive man. There was no chance of us having a relationship, for not only did he have no intention of leaving his wife, but there were no common interests between us except that of the physical. As I said to Veg the other day, this was no meeting of the minds.

And yet, it is over. And I’m glad. My only regret is that I didn’t end it before. My dear reader, you may ask, why should I believe her now, she obviously can’t keep her grubby hands off him? Well, he has succeeding in offending me, which is quite a feat if you know me at all.

Basically I saw him on Friday at lunchtime. He said that he hadn’t been as persistent with me recently as he wanted to “get to know me”. Fair enough I thought, though I hadn’t noticed much change in his predatory behaviour. Then he went on to say that he felt that he didn’t know me so well and claimed to be wondering whether I could have some sort of Sexually Transmitted Disease! Then he said that he thought that I might shag for England in Jamaica, and that he was concerned for me! Such knobbery - if he doesn’t want a STD I’d be happy to cut it off for him!

–

I’m glad to say that I have another suitor waiting in the wings. He reads this blog sometimes and it’s early days in our friendship, so I won’t embarrass him, but is a lovely guy who I admire so much. Watch this space!

Feeling rather rotten. Surviving on honey and lemon.

The last two days have been okay. Nothing much going on.

On Saturday I met up with Anna. As she works for a tourist attraction company we were able to get free tickets for the London Eye. It was a lovely sunny day and loads of people were enjoying the good weather. Then we strolled around until we got to the National Portrait Gallery (one of my favorite museums) and took a look inside. We didn’t spend a long time in there, so I’m planning to go back again to have a look at the Face of Fashion Exhibition.

We realised that we were both hungry, so we stopped at TGI Friday for a meal. She had steak, while I had some cheesy chicken pasta connoction. We continued to catch each other up on our news while we ate. She heard the full story about Dirk, and laughed at his silly behaviour.

Being a weekend afternoon the restaurant was full of families; one active little demon kept on visiting other nearby tables, and at one point I jumped at the sensation of tiny fingers moving over my back near my butt cleavage.

(It reminds me of another woeful episode, which occurred the last time I visited Jamaica 12 years ago. We visited a family friend in the countryside who didn’t have a toilet in her house, so when I needed to “go” I found a quiet bush. As I was in the process of “going” I felt something cold touch my bum, and turned around to see a little dog there!)