Meeting point

I enjoy a good class or a meeting, nothing like a bit of structure on an hour. I do a yoga class and a dancing class and until recently I used to go to a Weight Watchers meeting.

I have been Weight Watching for some time. It has brought me to the conclusion that my body is infused with lead and it simply can't be removed. Attempts to remove it only cause it to multiply. There are a number of Weight Watchers meetings going on in my area, so I tend to go to which ever one suits me that particular week.

The week in question here, I was to attend a venue I had not been to before. I got the information from the website and duly headed along to the community centre at the given time. When I arrived at the centre I simply said to the lady at the front desk that I was here for the meeting and she pointed me up the stairs.

Generally at the meetings there is a pay desk where you sort of sign in and pay, then you can queue up for your weigh in with the class leader. I noticed though at this meeting there was no pay desk, maybe you pay at the end? Also there was a good male to female ratio, very rare for a WW meeting. The leader spotted me looking a bit lost and kindly came straight over.

Leader: Hello, welcome to the meeting
Sasha: Hi, yeah its my first time at this meeting
Leader: Well done for coming, how was your week?
(Sasha at this point has noticed there is no WW advertising in the room, there generally is and why isn't anybody clutching their little WW books?)
Sasha: Oh I was a bit bold this week, lots of parties, but I kept track of all the bits and pieces, I stayed away from the chocy!
Leader: I think you are looking for Weight Watchers on the floor above. This is an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
Sasha: It was nice to meet you, bye.

I found the embarrassment very heavy, it actually added an additional 2 pounds that week...

Needs not wants

There's a lovely holiday feel in the air today. I have made some delightful Easter plans, which see me heading westward. My main mission is to get my hands on a Lindt Bunny. A need, not a want. This bunny is perfect, even down to his high fashion, oversize bell, I want to be in his gang.



I'm also embarking on some romance with the boy. We are going to a posh hotel which promises a wonderful breakfast. As breakfast is my favorite meal, I am pretty excited. This is what I need and want for my holiday breakfast. Its a delicious chocolate biscuit cake that I made in a heart shape, then decorated with mini Smarties. It was some feat, I was so proud of myself.

I look forward to reporting on my adventures!

Sneaky Sneaky

I think I am now finally old enough to have my own proper pet. I would really like a cat. I have been observing friends and family with their four legged friends and feel I would adapt easily into the role of cat owner, hi I'm Sasha, yeah that's right, I own a cat.

The first stumbling block I hit was a clause in our lease stating no pets. I have decided I can work around this one. We already have fish, the landlady seems fine with them, so a cat shouldn't be too far a leap.

The next stumbling block is the live-in love of my life. He has a really appalling cat allergy. Not just your usual streaming eye sort of thing, but full on can't breathe allergy. This is going to be trickier than I had initially thought...

I do play a little game with myself when bored at my desk, imagining that I have a really large Persian cat sitting on my knee and I have to work around him. Its a charm of a sport, makes any dull Tuesday fly by. So I applied the same principles to the apartment cat. I would imagine I had a cat and see how that went.

Hello Sneaky. Sneaky is now my imaginary cat, he officially lives up the chimney and sneaks out, hiding from the allergy, so we can all live harmoniously. Its going down an absolute storm! We love Sneaky! (I love having a third party to blame for stuff, Sneaky is a demon for not putting my clothes away.)

It was all going so well. Until yesterday. Fortunately Wonder Boy had vanished for the weekend and it was just Sneaky and I holding the fort. I had the patio doors open to air the place a little, I was so smug and in a complete Cath Kidston fantasy with this small practicality. The next thing I know, Sneaky has managed to come to life and is sitting on my bed! I was shellshocked. He didn't answer to the name Sneaky, we could work around this, but how had this happened! He was so handsome, big furry black coat, with a grey bib, quite debonair.

The next clue that something wasn't quite right came in the form of a smell. Sneaky showers daily, I am often delayed getting out of bed because Sneaky has gone ahead of me into the shower, so this smell was hard to explain. I began to think I had an imposter on my hands. The only thing I could do was to ask him to leave. Which he did.

He left me with quite the calling card though, a fur encrusted bed. I mustered all my Cath Kidston inspired strength and put the bed linen on the hottest wash possible. Then I rang my Mum. She sensibly enquired about where the cat had been sitting, naturally he was on Wonder Boy's side and had he been on the sheet or the duvet mainly? He was a sheet man it turned out. Mother's solution? Ditch the sheet, get a new one in a nice bright spring colour, and stop inviting lethal allergens into your home!

Sneaky and I are off to make some fluffed Soya milk now, he's been helping me type.

Taking a closer look

I'm of quite an inquisitive nature and love a little bit of private investigation. I am so interested in other people. I can often be found just randomly staring at strangers, completely consumed by their activities. Like, why is that man buying 14 bananas? Does he have a potassium deficiency? That must be it, I better go and casually examine the contents of his trolley now.

The weekend saw a delightful Friday night visit to my favorite nail bar, where aside from the joy of preening, i also get to effortlessly eavesdrop onto the conversations of neighbours in grooming. I learned of lip filling injections, favorite mascaras, misbehaving absent fathers and dogs being taken to a photography studio. Absolute jackpot for someone like myself. I like to call it Safari.
Safari because you are surveying all around you and studying any item of person who may be of interest to you. If you ever have the opportunity to sit next to me on a plane, you too will be submerged in the joy of safari.
I also visited my parent's cottage in the West of Ireland. They have owned the cottage since October, so we are relatively new to the area. It was such a beautiful weekend, my Mum and I had lots of opportunities to explore the local area. We walked a gorgeous beach and climbed some rocks at the end, only to be brought to a smaller sandy enclave, with a very unusual stone formation. It was very well built and looked like it had been there for hundreds of years. When we went around the other side of the rocks, we saw that the sun fell very precisely on top of it. What could it be for?

The following day we had some more interesting finds, including the remains of a very quiet sandy harbour. Could it have been a ladies bathing area? Perhaps used for smuggling? Investigations are underway! Our walk continued past these handsome donkeys who were waiting for their Sunday dinner and down to a small but busy harbour.
Instead of the harbour being full of boats, it was populated by large bales of seaweed tightly bound together and very securely moored in a web like structure. We couldn't figure out what they were for. Google has kindly told me they are for a local seaweed factory, but they really were something else.

The usual safari routes were rather limited for me, other than a helpful, handsome service station attendant, there really were no other items of interest to be observed.

More on motoring

It may seem as though I have become a little bit obsessed with motoring or more specifically the field of motoring disasters. The tale I am to tell is a true story, it has it all:

• snow
• rescues
• a cat
• handsome boys
• a super Granny.

Wouldn't it be great if your petrol gauge never moved, you always had enough fuel to go from A to B, never having to make an annoying stop off inevitably when you are running late or during a surprise electrical storm? This has always been my dream anyway. One day, when not doing a good job of separating dreams from reality, my petrol gauge began to work against me. I reckoned I definitely had enough to get home and because it was snowing, there was no way I could possibly run out. I was thinking this as I cruised into the hard shoulder after my engine had given its final cough.

I waited for a few minutes thinking about what I could do to rectify the situation, or in reality what was keeping my knight in shining armor? I was on a busy stretch of road and not too far from a petrol station. I was just summoning the courage to make the brave trek when a crane pulled in ahead of me. I saw a guy hopping out of the passenger side and I presumed he was being dropped off. I was a little surprised when he approached me.

"Hello, are you broken down? Can I help you? I can tow you if needs be?"

In my head: Yes, I need your help. Are you a) a serial killer b) a crane driving maniac or c) a helpful soul? I risked C.

I explained my predicament and was offered a lift to the petrol station. In case you didn't know this, you access the drivers cab of a crane via the passenger side. This was very exciting for me. The cab is a little more plush than one would expect, a flask holder and fancy radio were two luxuries of note. My valiant hero dropped me off to the petrol station and then sadly went on about his business. I will save you the description of trudging back to the car in the snow, wearing cream jeans, high heels and carrying a petrol can.

Eventually I got the petrol into the car and it started. Happy days! I zoomed on home, the car and I reeking of fuel. I had read somewhere if you leave the windows open on a frosty night, it will get any smell out of a car. So I did this, feeling only a little smug. What a tale I had to tell, no one ever gets rescued by a crane!

The next day I was to bring my Granny shopping. I spruced myself up, as one does for a Granny inspection and prepared for our jaunt. I arrived at the car and went to open the door. Only to find someone already occupying the driver's seat. A tom cat. It was one thing to have a car slightly smelling of petrol, but believe you me, its a very different story when you meet the olfactory cocktail that is tom cat plus petrol. I couldn't leave my Granny in the lurch, I would have to drive the car.

I drove to Granny's with the windows down and a scarf over my face. Granny was a very heavy smoker, unless I had sat the tom cat on her lap she would not have noticed the smell. I suggested that Granny light up as soon as she got in, she was delighted with this. As we drove, we caught up on news, all the usual stuff, all the time me encouraging the smoking, anything was better than the current pungency. I kept the windows down, I thought I was onto a winner.

That particular day happened to be the semi-finals of the All Ireland Rugby Schools cup. I had not anticipated that the roads would be heaving with boys of all ages, over excited and geared up to cheer at any sight they may see...

As we drove, handsome boys shrieked through our open windows, Granny delighted cheering back, perhaps offering a few cigarettes on the side. This was until we stopped at traffic lights beside a particularly enthused car of gents who happened to be a little downwind from us. Their enthusiasm suddenly dimmed, one boy became green. The lights then changed. As we drove away I could see the boys were not following and their hazard lights were now on, I could just about make out two of the occupants who had been seated next to us leaving the vehicle and appearing to be violently sick.

Granny and I arrived at the supermarket and as always, I let her out at the main door and I went to park. I heartlessly drove towards the overpriced car valeting space, greeted with enthusiasm I asked for the full works, the employee seeing dollar signs. Walking away, I heard him radioing his head office for some back up...

So my friends, the next time you're running a little low, think twice before entering the red zone!

Be yourself, however unexpected the circumstances may be.

I generally float about in a cocoon of wonderfulness. Between nail appointments, a bit of work, some light household duties and heavy socializing, I really do lead a lovely existence. That was until our old friend Crash, boom, bang!

Who would have thought so much of my identity was attached to my car? I feel so lost without my mobile fashion accessory! How should one compensate? I had been thinking of perming my hair, but thanks to some advise from some bonny haired ladies, I have laid that idea to rest. I'm hoping perhaps to purchase a bright pink iPod Nano, this might help.

Once the retail therapy had successfully begun, I thought it would have been a bad idea to stop it. A bit like not finishing a prescribed course of medication. I shopped online for a short time and decided I wanted a cat. Sadly the boyfriend is allergic to cats, but I found a special breed called Ragdolls who apparently are allergy proof. I was so delighted. Glee filled I mentioned this to a group of friends. One person, perhaps no longer my friend, then told how these felines are not allergy proof and perhaps their appeal had been their affectionate nature? I am refusing to comment at this point.

In other unexpected circumstances, Crash, Boom, Bang! broke my eye. I have to have an eye operation on Monday as a result. I hate anything eye related. I don't even wear eyeliner, I am that eye phobic. Hopefully the results will give a fixed eye and a good blog post! x

No holes barred.

The joys of a birthday party. Cake, friends, delicious drinks and balloons. I sometimes find that one's own birthday party can be a little stressful, guest lists, food, will people come? Is everyone having a good time? So I think its important to have the best time possible when attending someone else's birthday. This works well in two ways: 1. The host sees that you are having a swell old time of it, therefore putting them at ease, one less guest to worry about. 2.You are having a swell old time of it.

The location of the party is a prime consideration.

• Will the room work?
  
• Is there enough space?
  
• Is there too much space?
  
• Where will I set up the drinks?
  
• Where will I put the coats?

If you find it impossible to answer these questions, it might be best to have it in a venue, like a function room of a pub. This my friends, is where my cautionary tale begins.
A good friend of mine was hosting their 30th birthday party in the function room of a popular Dublin pub. The area was nicely decorated with balloons and banners and there had been a satisfactory, if not a little dry, birthday cake. Towards the end of the evening I had taken up the traditional party pursuit of rubbing a balloon in ones hair and using the static charge to stick it to various objects and people about the room.
When closing time came, a bouncer came up to the area and went around each table and informing them individually that it was closing time. On his third consecutive round of all 12 remaining guests, I took the opportunity to stick the statically charged balloon to his bum. Somewhat like a bunnies tail.
The bouncer bobbed off with his pink tail, much to our amusement and continued re-informing us of closing time. Unfortunately for me, another bouncer had been monitoring the event closely and had spotted the arrival of the bunnies tail. He immediately swooped in and dramatically relieved his colleague of his new tail. Their glare then fell on me. They possessed the pent up fury of 12 hungry wolves. I was 'accompanied' down the stairs and placed in the doorway to await the manager of the establishment. When he appeared, he asked me my version of events. I recounted the incident in as light a tone as possible and fortunately the manager seemed to find it rather amusing. Sadly, though the bouncer did not. The result was a life long ban from the establishment. This was nearly 3 years ago and the door staff still have not changed. I remain barred.
So what to do if you get the urge to pin the tail on the bouncer? My advice, resist!

Crash, boom, bang!

So posts have been few and far between in February. This is due to an incident I'll refer to as crash, boom, bang.

I was minding my own business travelling to work. Only 20 mins late. I was just making a left turn into my office when suddenly I felt a bang. And I discovered a lady was driving her car into the passenger side of my car.

To cut a long story short, I'm down a car, a shoulder and a neck but have gained a solicitor. That's it.

Being a wiser owl.

We've all been there. A little Internet browse when bored at work.  Some might look at sports results or celebrity gossip, each to their own really. Naturally I like to look at things I am interested in, one of which is Owls. 

If you are interested in knowing what others are interested in, this may interest you.

  Back to Owls. So, I was at my desk one day in what happened to be a pretty volatile office. I don't do volatile well, I always had a minor sense of panic about me . It was a quiet day, I had my work done really and it made for perfect perusal time. I initially was taking a look at some unusual breeds of owl and their camouflage methods. It was most intriguing. If the opportunity ever arises, I would really recommend a game of 'spot the camouflaged owl'. I then stumbled across some owl chicks, a delight, then to a Youtube link of owl chicks and their Mum. 

 As you may have seen on Youtube, you are offered some related clips to the right of your chosen feature, I took a browse through these and came upon a link about owl mating. This question often came to my mind, but I had never found the correct expert or time to ask. I saw this clip as a golden opportunity. I of course clicked it. 

 What followed was a poor girl owl, in a some class of manmade kennel in a tree with a video camera inside it, just minding her own business. She was chilling there, looking like she might have been asleep. The next thing is a giant boy owl barges in, leaps on top her, scaring the life out of her, and gets on with a spot of mating. Now, I got a similar level of shock to the girl owl and jumped out of my seat with a shriek. I tried to regain composure, while keeping my eyes glued to the situation on screen. The boy owl finishes up his job, then just turns on his wing and leaves. There is no hello, no goodbye, not even a thanks. I was so shocked. Unfortunately, so were the rest of volatile office, who had gathered around my screen post shriek. The expressions on their faces said more than, you will never be employee of the month, it was more, you will always eat your lunch alone now. 

 There was no explaining it, to them it was simple, I was the girl who watched owl porn in the office. So, what to do if you fancy a spot of browsing at work? Keep it clean!

How to become a more flexible friend.

Exercise is a necessary evil for us ladies. I don't seem to be naturally predisposed to sport, so finding the right form of exercise for me has been an ongoing challenge.

At one stage I decided the gym was the way forward for me. When I went to view the gym, the lady who was showing me around, asked me 'what do you think of that wall?' pointing to a multi coloured wall. In my head I thought, wow, she is being thorough, unbeknown that she had in fact been pointing out a climbing wall. I told her it was lovely and it was nice to see a bit of colour in what seemed to be such an industrial setting. The long and short of it was that the gym was just not for me.

Now my exercise regime includes yoga classes, dancing and walking. All delightful activities. But aside from walking, all do include being in a class environment. So on to the age old problem, what to do if there's some 'unexpected wind' experienced during a yoga class.

I have sleepless nights over this issue, it has yet to happen to me, but I know that if I keep practicing yoga, my day is sure to come. When the day came for one of my class mates, I was unfortunately right in the so called firing line. Yoga involves a lot of deep breathing and remaining still, I really had no escape. Then of course I had to stifle the obligatory laughter. All I could do to try and remain composed and conscious was to try and exhale but it came out really loudly, sort of like the noise a dragon would make. This naturally made the situation 10 times worse.

So I changed my tack and went for a 'stuck cough' sort of effort. The result removed any unwanted attention from the wind victim, but lead our teacher to believe I was in respiratory distress. The teacher then instructed me into a posture to relieve my distress, it resembled a snail combined with an octopus. It was complicated. If only I could have politely ignored my class mate!

What to do if someone breaks wind at yoga: this one is simple, ignore it!

Even my train ticket advertised my single status.

From my own experience, being on the front line of late 20's singledom can be a tough job. Aside from your own aspirations for a picket fence and Nissan Quashqai, you also have the aspirations of your smugly married friends and family to live up. You eye up every guy you see, it becomes like a fugitive hunt. Could it be that guy there examining the Soya milk? Is it this guy, surely a cosmic force made me sit next to him on the bus? It was none of those guys. But I did go about doing everything in my power to get them to ask me out.

What is the best method to get a stranger to ask you out? Well the first thing you need to do is assess whether the stranger is a mass murderer. You'll have your own criteria, mine generally involved studying their clothing and facial expressions. Once cleared by security, I would then work my magic:
Stage 1: Get them to notice you. Try smiling, a lot and also keep your phone in your hand.
Stage 2: If they have smiled back, go hunting in your bag for something, then look up and smile again.
Stage 3: Then its time to strike, something like 'you wouldn't have a pen?' might work nicely.
Stage 4: Whether they can or cannot satisfy your request is of no consequence, you've started talking to them. You've heard their voice, checked they had all their own teeth and ascertained if they are a viable catch. You must smile throughout this phase.
Stage 5: You need to say something polite and charming such as 'Its been so nice talking you you.' This is when he will be caught off guard and you should prepare yourself for his hopefully positive response, 'Yeah it was.' You then jokingly say, We should do this again sometime-keeping your phone visible at all times.
Stage 6: If its gone successfully, the young man will take the unconscious hint of the phone and ask for your number.
Stage 7: Laughter over number exchange.
Stage 8: Spend next 48-72 hours nervously waiting for him to text. He has a week. He may not be your Prince Charming, but you've got to try the Cream Soda before you find the real Lemonade.

Sometimes you need Plan B simply to make Plan C.

We all know that life doesn't always go to plan. That sometimes what seems like a relatively simple action can spiral out of control with some horrific consequences. Often you're required to muster your best skill and judgement and every creative strand in your body to rectify the situation. You'll note I have used the word often. This is because these events seem occur in my life slightly more often than others. Through this I have gained some interesting life coping skills. So I thought, why keep these pearls of wisdom to myself? I should share them with others. Who wouldn't want to know what to do when they have mistakenly spread a rumor about a colleagues rear end? Or how to pick up a guy in a queue? So this is my initial foray, call it a how to guide to what not to do.

If you have recently mistakenly spread a rumor about a colleague's rear end, and are tearing your hair out in an effort to rectify the situation, it really is a matter of urgency that I outline how to best deal with the matter. How my situation came about was very simple . My office was on a mezzanine floor above a male colleague's. I could generally hear their phone calls, but would not really have had the interest to listen in. Until one day I couldn't help it. All I heard was 'Cyst removed from my bum'. I couldn't believe my ears, that he was discussing this so openly and colloquially on a work telephone line. I felt if it was ok for him to discuss it, it was ok for me to discuss it. I went about internally phoning colleagues to discuss this juicy tale of woe.
All was going well with my scandalous grapevine, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the aforementioned colleague. He stood there, pointed at his mouth and said, Gum, I had a cyst removed on my gum.
I sat there, blushing in silence. How could I A)apologize? B)not lose my job over this? The answer came to me like a robin on a winters day, I would offer to make him an industrious quantity of rice crispie buns in return for his silence. At first he looked surprised by this suggestion, I think his next port of call had been a complaint to HR. But one of my rare talents is the ability to make delicious rice crispie buns. A deal was then reached, I was to clear his name, halt the rumor mill and also he could telephone me and order any quantity of rice crispie buns to be delivered to his desk within 24 hours.
So, a solution to that age old problem, what to do if you mistakenly spread a rumor about a colleague's back side-clear their name and agree to make them an unlimited supply of chocolate based treats.