no es bueno!

I went on a date last month with a guy that I am pretty sure is the only hottie in the small town in which I currently find myself.  He was a sexy brown skinned mix of Cubano and Brasileiro parentage, raised in France with a slight Brummie twang.  He had bright green eyes, captivating and cheeky, and a smile to match.

We're both new to the area.  So we picked a pretty central place to meet, outside a local bar.

So far pretty standard stuff right?

We were both late, which is a pretty sad way of determining a potential soul mate, but whatever works.  When I walked up to the bar to meet him, he hugged me, then proceeded to circle me, the aforementioned green eyes raking me from locs to toes, with noticeable pauses in various areas of my anatomy, letting out a long and extended;

"buuueeeennoooooo"

*pause*

I felt a little bit violated.

Gentlemen this is not a good look.

Objectification at its finest!

Thats Dr Eva!

FOUR YEARS!!

Four years of life and I have finally reached the day that made it all worth while.  Last friday I opened an envelope while my heart pulsed in my mouth and then cried as I read Final Grade - BDS (Hons).  These weren't pretty tears.  They were snotty, red eyed, honking sobs of gratitude and relief, since I had managed to convince myself that I had failed at least one of the exams.  I hadn't quite composed myself when I called my parents and they were sure I had failed until I managed to get the good news out.

So now I'm a doctor (ish).  A doctor of teeth. And I couldn't be happier.

Results weekend fell on the weekend of my 26th birthday so it really was a celebration, presents included a stack of cash, a kindle (can't wait til Amazon finally delivers this), jewellery and a holiday to the Dominican Republic (although technically this was less of a present and more my Dad trying to get rid of his airmiles).

I am walking around London with a ridiculous smile on my face.  I'm a clown.  I look like I have been botoxed this way.  I don't care.

Back down on earth I still have patients to finish off and bureaucracy to navigate so I can move to Oxford with a clear head.

studying

"Studying" (and yes the quotation marks are intentional and informative) tends to form the bulk of my existence.  The thought is depressing.  But in the past 4 years every person in my life has told me...

..."It will all be worth it"

Bleugh! - clearly I am a slave to instant gratification because that well meaning platitude does nothing but irritate.

It is now 2 months until my exams.  The final exams.  The ones that will determine if my lazy, work shy attitude and perpetual lack of attendance have had any lasting effect on my ability to drill teeth (or pull them out - which is infinitely more satisfying).

I actually have nothing to say right now, this is just another procrastination attempt that I thought I would share with my reader (singular - also intentional - you know who you are my darling!)

Life updates:

I have a J-O-B! Which is obviously conditional on passing my exams and obtaining or qualification - or I would probably just go now. This j-o-b is in a country town called Banbury, seriously, the epitome of middle England.  My dental practice is in a grade 2 listed building near Banbury Cross (and if that sounds familiar, go back to your book of nursery rhymes)

Following on from that I have handed in my notice to my typing gig in the Palace - ecstatic about that.  It will free up a lot of time.  And recently it hasn't been pulling in the big bucks like it used to.  My last day is next friday and I will be attending for a lil Krispy Kreme doughnut party (going out in style).

My little (significantly taller than I) brother is turning 16 in a couple of weeks.  Six-freaking-teen! I don't even know how to process that in any useful way.  In my head he is still a lil fat-cheeked ball of fun (he'll never read this, it's okay), but the facts show that he is fast usurping my "golden child" reign.  He volunteers, he Dukes of Edinburghs, he Wu Shu Kwans, he gets straight As, and he has great skin.  He's lucky we are related and the bonds of siblinghood are strong or I would be plotting his downfall as we speak.

I hate my flat.  This antipathy was born of searching for flats in Banbury (see above for reasons) and realising that for what I am currently paying, I could be living in a 2 bed, 2 bath, top floor flat, rather than the box I'm in right now. London weighting is a joke.  It's hardly as if I am paying for location.  On leaving my flat on the way to work recently I was confronted by dried blood speckles tracing a route to my bus stop - nice.  You may call me an ungrateful bitch but while I appreciate the many benefits of living alone in London, I will fight for my right to bitch about the price.

listening

People tend to talk to me.  I don't really invite it, but something about me leads people to believe that I am trustworthy and non-judgemental.  The first is true, the second, if I'm honest, is more dependant on my mood. 

A few months ago, when I went through one of my miserable loner phases I became sick of being everyone's confidante.  I found that those who would bend my ear nightly, were a lot less receptive to hearing my problems.  I clammed up, stopped answering my phone and sent a big middle finger to the world.

I'm over it now, I think

I'm put in a position of trust daily and today is no exception.  And its a special thing, not something I should dismiss lightly. 
Today made me realise that. 

What a week...

I'm lying in bed, my first lie-in of the week and I am enjoying the hell out of it. The past week was my first full week back at uni since the summer and I had forgotten the mind numbing exhaustion that late nights and early mornings can induce. Next week is all about the 10.30pm bedtime, let's see how that feels.

It has been an alright weekend I guess. A lil disappointing. Friday night me and my girl D went out to dinner at one of the jerk restaurants on Wardour Street to discuss life, love and the human condition (as you do). Firstly, the food was uniformly dry, like surface of mars dry - there may have once been moisture, but it was long gone. I didn't even know it was possible to dry out mac and cheese like that and I had been looking forward to it all day! Boooo! Secondly the service was crap, but, well, you know the stereotype so whatever - no tip for you.

Anywho, I digress. After our conversation covered life and work it turned to men. Now D is confused as hell because she has a friend who is sending her mixed up and confused signals. D's friend, who she likes, recently has started to kiss her. Unfortunately this friend is so laid back that he is near comatose and so she has no idea what else to expect. Add to this, that he not a big talker and "I don't know" is a standard answer to most things. Irritating, no? Originally when I first heard about this guy I was backing team J hard! Now he just sounds lazy. Booo to laziness, D deserves better.

D's story was just another addition to the foolishness that I have been suffering from all week! I call it Y chromosome foolishness because yes, it has been gender specific.

Two examples after the jump:

blockage!

I used the "block person" option on facebook for the first time today. The same person was also msn messenger blocked + deleted (a feature which is used with increasing regularity) and would also have been deleted from my phone except I would like to know when they are calling so I can ignore it - no surprises.

Can you block phone numbers? How?

It was cathartic. And it was long over due.

I can't control the negative energy of others, but actually inviting it into my life repeatedly? That's stupid.

And today I'm feeling smart.

uninspired, unmotivated, unimpressed

I hassled two bloggers today about their lack of new material. JohnBoy was kind enough to oblige quickly with a new post, Rio Tetsuo may need a little more of a push, but I'm sure he'll come around eventually. It's probably best if I update too so I can't be accused of hypocrisy.

The fact is, I prefer reading blogs to writing them. I prefer a little escapism into somebody else's life for a hot minute rather than re-immersing myself in the mundanities of my own. Don't get me wrong, I'm quite fond of my life, but I'm already living it. Writing about it is a form of therapy when it's in a padlocked journal that no one can read, but blogging is exposed. No matter how anonymous you may try to be, the internet is a public forum. And so my posting is restricted. Since I know people that I know may or may not be reading, what I write is restricted to what I want them to know, or what they already know. Maybe I shouldn't have been so free and easy with the web address in the early days.

On a sad note

Michael J is still dead.

boo

And now the rumour mill has begun grinding. (That is what mills do right? Grind? Corn, i think)

Yesterday I heard that Jordie Chandler had been so moved by the death of Michael that he had to come clean about the blatant fabrication that was his molestation charge. I wanted to believe it, but it came accompanied by a waft of bulls*** that was hard to ignore.

MaryMary are also proclaiming (falsely) that Michael was baptised 3 weeks before he died. While this seemed to be a source a great comfort and relief to the 1,080 commenters on their status, it is a LIE!

Leave Michael alone!!

In further life updates:

I'm tired and unmotivated (there's a surprise!)

and my MOT is due in 11 days - I should probably look into that.

Grrr

SherryBaby* ain't nuthin but a money-grabbing....


*SherryBaby is my car, if you didn't get that reference

thief of time

I hate my time being wasted.

What I hate even more is my time being wasted when I'm ill, in pain or otherwise having a crappy day, a day like Tuesday, when my stomach felt like Tyson was punching it repeatedly.

(I know you can see where this is going...)

I made plans to see a friend on Tuesday night for drinks. I use the term friend loosely, since the friendship is a new thing. We were together on and off for a year and a half and then didn't talk for over a year. Now we have been trial running friendship for 6 months. *backstory over*

The plan was that I would drive up to Rainham (a pretty significant distance from my house), pick him up and we'd go out for drinks (non-alcoholic for me obviously - don't drink and drive!). I spoke to him at 6pm and told him that I was about to drop something off at my girl's house and I'd be at his for 8.30pm.

"That's cool"

My girl Nadia had just come back from NYC and I had her birthday present from a week before she left (delayed - I know), so we talked, caught jokes and ate sweet popcorn which she must have missed while being in the States since they prefer to drench popcorn in fat and destroy their arteries rather than drench it in sugar and ruin those perfect teeth!

Anyway I digress, before I left Nadia's I called my friend and he didn't pick up, so I texted to let him know that I was on my way.

So why is it that 10minutes later I pulled up outside his house and his car wasn't in the drive? I called again, because being a friend, he wouldn't go far when he knew I was coming over, right?

Right?

WRONG

After 15 minutes of hanging around I finally heard from him,

He was in north london and wasn't going to be back for at least an hour

WTF?

"Are you going to wait for me?"

WTF?

I really hope he was joking, because after repressing some choice expletives I hung up and drove home. A warning to all - driving home angry, is just as distracting as driving tired, or maybe even drunk, and isn't recommended.

I still don't really know exactly what happened, I was a little too heated to discuss it at the time and I haven't heard from him since (I rarely get angry, but apparently can inspire fear when I do - a useful skill). I mean was there some kind of miscommunication? Was there an emergency in North London? And as much as I would like one of these reasons to apply I know they don't. If you know that you are due to meet someone at a particular time, any changes that will affect those plans warrant a text message to warn the other party. It's common courtesy, it wasn't extended to me on Tuesday, and it serves as a reminder for why the ex is an ex.