As if, today, I put the sugar and hot water into my coffe jar, instead of in my cup!

This actually is my life. Its utterly boggles my rather blonde mind how I manage to do these 'things' so often. It happens almost everyday.

Take Friday for Example. I, for once, woke up a few hours early for 2-6 shift at work and so proceeded to catch up on watching films, when I noticed a crazy storm taking place just outside my bedroom window. When I say crazy I mean Armageddon crazy, with hail stones, thunder and lightening, the whole shit show of storms. You can imagine my happiness (as one who adores storms, no sarcasm intended) when I realised I would have to walk to work in this delightful weather, without a coat or an umbrella....and you know where I work.

Luckily, you would think, it stops just before I leave for work. 'Fantastic luck' I hear you cry and punch the air, but sadly not my friends, as minutes from work the storm starts again. The fucker drenched  me, through my huddie, clothing, right through to my lovely lady bits.

This is just 'bad luck' I hear you say, I wish it was, as my day slowly got hilarious.

So as I work, soaking wet and possibly scaring customers off with my 'drowned rat' look, the elasticity in my tights (that I was wearing under my very topshopy Top Shop shorts) slowly starts to fail. I didn't notice this looming disaster until it was too late. When I was casually walking home from work my tights start to fall down below my shorts. So there I, unashamedly, walking home with arse hanging out my of shorts and tights dangling by my knee's.

And to top that particular day off, when I got home and started to change I heard a 'THUD'...as the work phone fell out of my back pocket and onto the floor. Smashing.

Oh and the title is also true.

Did I really just do that?

Today I'm going to fill you on a rather shambolic day of mine that took place a few weeks back.

I work in Top shop in Manchester on a four hour weekly contract, I'd love to tell you its an amazing job but I frequently sleep through my alarm (take from that what you will). On this fine day I, once again, slept through my alarm and had to rush to work for my 11 am shift. Manchester had decided to take this day to hold a marathon through the city centre meaning I could not take the bus to work but I had to make my  little legs walk as fast as they would allow through dodgy Manchester back allies all the way to work.

I was, what I thought ten 10 minutes late, as it turns out though I was three hours early. Great, just great, I thought. So I rushed back through crowds of irritating jostling bystanders who obviously have nothing better to do, so I could get back to bed and eat some breakfast, brunch, ellevensies, and lunch.

I was casually strolling along with my ipod in listening someone wailing about some form of life issue, when I walked past the palace hotel.

Who did I see sexily walking out of the hotel but Robert Downy Junior, only the sexiest actor alive.  Being an avid fan of not only films but also comic books this would have been an amazing opportunity to get an autograph, (being an imaginative young sprout I imagined much more than this taking place, but lets keep this pg). But NO, what do I do? I hear you ask, what Tj, what did you do?

I only shouted 'IRON MAN'...

and then I ran. I ran away from Robert Downy Junior after I shouted, no, screamed at him. WTF is wrong with me?

What is my life?

What is my life? This is a question I frequently ask my self. When going about my daily life and everything is going just dandy, when something rather annoying, irritating, ironic, or just down right pathetic happens to me, this makes me think, if I'm being honest, what the fuck is my life?

For example, imagine a 15 year old girl after one stressful, tedious, and average school day is walking home with her dear pals. It is mid February in Liverpool and the weather is rather shit, there is ice on the pavement and the sky is grey and overcast. Her cheeks are red, and her ears and noes sting from the frost.
Her friend, lets call her Betty, decides to venture into the corner shop (what Betty rather, very nastily, calls 'the paki shop') . And so waiting, but not waiting patiently, our 15 year old spots a puddle. This puddle has frozen like the rest this time of year, and so our 15 year old decides to take her foot and starts tapping the ice puddle in order to break it.
It is then when a group of boys, about her age, 'swagger' (yes, swagger) past. It is then that our 15 year old, unwittingly, places her foot on hazardously slippy piece of ice and flies, somehow, with flailing arms into the air. Our 15 year old then not only lands hanging off the pavement onto the road, but lands with her nose mere centimeters from a pile of dog shit. Much to the amusement of the swaggering boys.

Just as you have guessed this 15 year old is me, or rather it was me 5 years ago. Not much has changed except now I am above 5ft, I have breasts and I am somewhat improved at flirting with men (that is to say i can now talk to them without going red).
This kind of disastrous occurrence happens to me on a regular occurrence, and it has just in recent days dawned upon me that I should not fight the amusement that this brings. So here I am, about share all of my embarrassing tales with the Internet. Tales that quite literally make me wish the earth would open up and eat me whole.
So enjoy...