Our Drunken Mistake of a Toothfairy

When I was growing up we had an issue every time we lost a tooth. Our tooth fairy NEVER remembered to come.

Now my mother did her best to explain the situation. She told us elaborate tales of our alcoholic tooth fairy that couldn't quite get it together.

She suggested I draw huge signs to tape all around the house so the tooth fairy couldn't miss them. No matter how ridiculously drunk she got. So I spent hours drawing huge posters to direct the tooth fairy.

But the tooth fairy still forget. The more the tooth fairy forgot the more my mother explained.

I was so fascinated that I wanted to meet this drunken mess of a fairy. So as any child would do I lay in wait.

Which inevitably lead to a certain amount of surprise.

and of course the only logical conclusion.

The ONLY Circumstances in which Facebook Food Pictures are COMPREHENDABLE

You've probably garnered from the title that I'm not a fan of the old food picture. It's not that I have anything against it. It's just that a picture of your friday beer or sunday mojito isn't exactly what I signed up to facebook for. Not that these are the most offensive of the food/drink related posts people seem to spend most of their lives composing. That would probably be the pictures of coffee in styrofoam cups.

Then there's the issue of the would-be-chefs. That post pictures of everything they make, whether or not it looks particularly edible seems to be of little importance.

Another highly disturbing development is pictures of just completely boring and regular food items. The sort of food items that don't exactly sashay across the plate, let alone make a riveting photograph.

I concede that I'm a little grumpy. There was a lot of pictures of nonplussed vegetables on my facebook news feed over the last few weeks. So I propose the following exceptions to the cause, in all of the following cases I think it would be both charming and relevant to post a picture of your food. Otherwise it might be best to just refrain. 

1) The most obvious thing to take a picture of is food that decides to fight back. Whether this is a chicken squirting hot oil in a lemons eyes or a piece of spinach finally having its way with popeye.

2) If strange relationships develop between your food. Please feel free to report them. 

3)  If your food gives you magnificent and secret powers, I would like to know. 

4) Any ridiculously talented food is also a welcome piece of news. 

5) Also food that is participating in torrid love affairs. 

You Know You're Ancient Before Your Time When Your Halloween Party Goes Like This...

My housemate decided to throw a house party for Halloween. This threw me into a huge state of turmoil. Not only did this thwart all plans I had of eating my weight in chocolate while watching bad horror movies but it also meant I had to decide who to invite.

After realising that most of my friends are as socially inept as me, I decided it was best to avoid any situation in which they were forced to mingle with people who have mastered the art of small talk.

That's right I made the decision not to know anybody at a party in my own house. At the time it seemed like the wisest move. Now there was only a costume to worry about. We went shopping for odds and ends. The only problem with this is that I hate shopping. It makes me feel ill and dizzy and hungry. I lose the will to live and become easily influenced. Which is exactly what happened. 

At the time the lady bird costume built for your average five year old seemed hilarious. But on the night it just looked hideous and ridiculous. 

I went downstairs to show my housemate how silly I looked. I found her looking like some sort of beautiful sugar coated princess. 

Then my other housemate came downstairs looking exactly like she always looks when staying in for the night. She'd turned herself into a giant fluffy dressing gown and when I asked what she was supposed to be I found out that attending our house's house party had been a choice all along. 

It was too late though. Guests started arriving and I was clearly dressed up to participate. As people filed in I noticed a recurring pattern in their outfits. They almost looked like they weren't dressed up at all, with the exception of some subtle head pieces.

I sat sociably in a corner watching the party slowly heat up. It wasn't long before our sitting room became some sort of strange photo-shoot. Full of laughter and if something wasn't funny enough to merit actual laughter people would just flick their hair and say "LOL." 

I was horrified and turned to the other semi-anti-social sitting on the outskirts beside me and voiced my concern. I mistakenly thought she would be equally disturbed. 

At that point I gave up on the party.

I skulked off to my room. Where I had more important and pressing matters to handle. 

I spent hours organising my drawers and making lists of things I needed to do. Eventually the party left our house to go and "LOL" elsewhere. My housemate who'd also been hiding in her room, emerged to investigate the damage. She came to me looking ever so slightly terrified. 

We spent five minutes peeping at the comatose teenager sprawled across our couch. 

We flicked the light switches on and off until he snorted and revealed he was indeed alive. We then decided to clean up some of the crazier things he had done in his drunken stupor. 

After cleaning raw eggs off the floor, we decided it was best to go to sleep and leave the boy sleeping off his condition. The next morning we were all having breakfast and he had vanished. There was a note left where he had been sleeping. 

At this point we realised that nobody had any idea who Jack or Stephen were. We sat sipping our tea in shock. 

The Most Impressively Disastrous Job Interview in the History of Job Interviews

There are few things I hate more than job interviews. They require me to pretend to be a much more put-together version of myself. I have to dress like some sort of repressed suit, walk in highly uncomfortable shoes and make sure I tone down the eye liner. All while allegedly being myself. Recently I found myself thinking I might get a second part-time job. So on the day of the interview I arrived looking like this:

As you can see I clearly knew what I was doing. I had covered all angles.They would never know about the state of my desk or the fact that it takes me twenty minutes to find my keys each morning. The interview got off to a decent start. She asked questions and I answered in coherent sentences and even tossed in some charming anecdotes. 

And then my brain went into over-drive. I began to think I was over doing it. I needed to seem more three dimensional. I should inject some self-depreciation.

Needless to say I caught her off-guard with my change of direction. 

And once I started listing my flaws...I couldn't stop. There was a ten minute tangent on my completely inappropriate sense of humour, which she did not find remotely amusing. In the end she suggested she show me the way out. As we got up from our seats she took a moment to survey my attire. 

At that point I was paranoid and so I went an extraordinary shade of pink and suspected she was indirectly calling me a whore. 

I began considering that my mother had been right all these years, that...

There was only one thing for it. To shake hands and get the hell out of there. 

I turned on my heel and marched out of there with all the dignity I could muster. I took a sharp right and waltzed across the car park.

I took a deep breath as I rounded the corner. Finally out of view of the huge glass doors at reception. I took stock of my surroundings. I'd walked into a corner of the car park where there was only an oil-tank and a bike leaning against a wall. There was also no way to get out without doubling back past the big glass doors. 

After taking a minute to consider how stupid I would look confidently striding back across the car park I decided to do the only logical thing: scale the wall the bike was leaning against, jump into the field on the other side and leg it to freedom. 

 Once I was in the field I found it a little more difficult than I'd imagined to traverse the mucky terrain. 

It was during this ridiculous game of stuck in the mud that I happened to glance back at the building and realise I was in full view of the reception area. 

I did the only thing I could to at that point. I soldiered on. 

I eventually found my way home and could think of nothing better to do than call someone and have them reassure me that it wasn't that bad. I hadn't just completely blown it. 

I opened my black folder to get my phone out. 

I spent the next hour looking for secret pockets in my folder before I came to the realisation that.... 

So once again, I used my logical disposition to decide what to do next. I thought it would be best to call and pretend I was someone else to see if a phone had been handed in at reception. 

I did not however anticipate their questions. 

I began to panic a little. 

And the receptionist became more suspicious.

Even though I knew I sounded ridiculous I continued to speak in my very unconvincing English accent. 

Then I gave up, it was clear she thought I was some sort of raving lunatic. So I gave a very long winded explanation of how I wasn't crazy. I further explained why I was speaking in an English accent, how I didn't want anyone to think I was an idiot and I never usually would do anything like this but I'd been in earlier for an interview and I had either left my phone in the meeting room or lost it while scaling a wall and trudging across the field while escaping from the interview. The receptionist eventually interrupted my warbled confession....

I think it's safe to say they won't be hiring me anytime soon.