I hate people


I’ve known for a while that I don’t like people but sometimes things happen that make me really dislike them! I knew when I became a writer that it could be lonely locked away, writing my woes of the world down. Probably complaining at some point about being lonely. Then this week happened.

First, I’ve mentioned this before, I’m a trainee sales rep. I became a sales rep for the very reason that it would get me out of the house, meet new people, blah blah blah! But when it comes to actually doing it, people aren’t very nice. The true, nasty versions of themselves appear before my eyes, how dare I contact them for coffee and to practise my sales pitch! What a horrible human being I must be to ask this of my family and friends! Keep in mind, training, not actually selling anything.

Second, was having a chat online with some people about “price”. Long story short, my friend had been contacted by a strange man who offered her ALOT of money to have sex with him. Ok, I know being a hooker isn’t most peoples idea of a great time, but we got into a debate about how much our own price would be. Mine would be £10 million in case anyone cares. Anyway, what started out as a joke around with people posting things like “For a million, I’ll do him!” and things like that, it turned to arguing with a guy who called us gross because we would even entertain the idea. I ended up going into facts about Nazi Germany and the things that happened then. People sold out their neighbours in order to save their own skin. It’s all well and good saying you wouldn’t do anything like that but you never know what circumstances you will be faced with and how you will react. I may have been going a bit far bringing the Nazis into it but I had a valid point which everyone agreed with. But his opinion matters more than facts don’t you know and we all have no morals. Everyone may be entitled to their own opinion but sometimes your opinion can be flat out wrong.

Those are only two of the big ones. Never mind people being rude in the supermarket, drivers cutting me off, and just the general public being horrid to each other. But why is everyone freaking out and hating on each other? Why stress? Why be horrible? It won’t get you anywhere, you might get a punch to the face if you cross the wrong person, so why do it? Yeah, you might be having a bad day but don’t take it out on the rest of us, we didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not our fault your day sucks.

I may be a silly thinking this way but I don’t have the patience to deal with people like this. People are cruel and selfish, sometimes trying to extend your social circle just isn’t a good idea. I do have friends but it’s a close circle of people that I really trust. If I need help, I can count on them. I’ve tried to reach out to people this week and have had it thrown in my face. Maybe I’m just not a social person but that’s my problem. Point is I tried to be nice, make new friends, and it backfired. So I won’t be doing that again. For now, I’m just going to continue living under my rock and shun the outside world. Besides, I have you lot to keep me company.

Kiddie contracts

I had called at my friends house for coffee and had just sat down when she exploded at her step-daughter in a rage filled rant about wrappers so I decided to cut my visit short. I don’t normally back-up women when they lose their temper with their children but I felt she was justified on this occasion. For months she had been complaining to me about her step-daughters behaviour and how she doesn’t listen but the thing that drives her insane is when the young lady in question sticks food wrappers down the sides of the sofa. Between every cushion there where chocolate wrappers and crisp packets. The child knows not to do this. I say child, she’s 10 years old so she should have some common sense about her. But, still, after months of trying to drive it through her skull that it is unacceptable to do it, she keeps doing it.

As I watched my friend turn a funny shade of purple, I couldn’t help but feel smug. My daughter didn’t do things that, but I had trained her well. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t long ago that I was in her shoes. Screaming and crying at each other, blood pressure through the roof. I was really starting to lose my mind over some of the stuff my daughter was doing. My pet hate is snotty tissues on the floor, clothes on the floor, anything on the floor really. I don’t expect children to scrub floors and clean the chimney, but I do expect them to pick up their own stuff, not leave their shoes at the bedroom door for someone to trip over as they walk in to put washing away.

How did I get my daughter to go from pain-in-my-ass to golden child? I’m glad you asked. Bribery. Well, sort of. My daughter had be going on about doing chores and getting paid for it. She offered to wash the car, cut the grass, and other random things that I didn’t want her doing. Why would I let her play with the lawnmower when she can’t even pick up her socks? Then it hit me. I’ll make her do what she is supposed to and pay her for that. And the kiddie contract was born. It was nothing too difficult, just what we parents expect our kids to do. Just think of it this way, if a grown-up person who is employed and works gets paid in relation to their performance, then why shouldn’t we treat our kids the same?

My Contract

  • Pocket money shall be paid at the rate of £10 per week.
  • In order to get this money, all tasks must be completed.
  • The floor will be clear of rubbish. For every tissue, item of clothing, hair clip, etc, left on the floor, £1 will be deducted from the pocket money.
  • Performance of homework will be monitored. For every % lost in results, 10p will be deducted. For example- 98% in homework, you lose 20p.
  • Extra money will be paid in the event of outstanding achievement.
  • Random acts of stupidity will lose you the full amount for that week, example- leaving your phone at your backside (it was expensive and you should take care of your stuff).
  • £1 will be deducted every time a drawer is left lying open.
  • £1 will be deducted every time you don’t shower.

As you can see, these are not difficult things, they are basic and they are things which should be easy for an 11 year old to do. The first week I put the contract in place she messed it up big style. 3 tissues were left on the floor, drawers were left open twice, and her homework scores were in the 80% range. She lost the entire amount when she lost her new phone after only having it for two days. It later turned up in the car but the fact remained that she had been careless and she lost her weeks money because of it. She must have thought I was going to be soft about it and pay her anyway but when I didn’t turn over the cash she knew it was for real. The following week she got no less than 97% in any homework’s or tests, her room was spotless, and she showered everyday. She put her washing in the basket, she even managed to earn extra by being shortlisted for an art competition. I may be £15 down this week but I haven’t popped a blood vessel.

It just goes to show, with the right motivation, children can achieve whatever they want to. The contract will be altered as time goes on to include boys, alcohol, and drugs but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I think I may have laid the foundation for a hard working young lady who can look after herself. Well, I hope I have, but only time will tell.

Let the blog war begin!


When you have friends who blogs it becomes difficult not to compare yourself to them. Sure, their blog might be completely different, but is it better? Do they get more hits? And why? This is the case between me and my friend Gemma. Her blog is about her relationship with her husband, and mine, well I’m still not sure what this one is about but I’ll get there eventually. Every time she posts, I sit and compare notes, what she is writing about, her writing style. Gemma on the other hand has no idea about my blog until about 5 minutes ago….oops! Sorry about that.

Gemma is hardly a stranger to me but I wouldn’t dare ask her to pimp my blog for me. We met for the first time when we were 16 years old in college. Gemma was a bubbly ball of fun that bounced around the canteen while I was a sullen, sour-faced bitch who drank too much coffee and was horrible to everyone. After I left college, our paths would cross again over the years when we ran into each other while shopping for herbal tea or shoes. Thanks to Facebook, we would be reunited on the internet and kept up with each others drama through status up-dates and drunken photos. Finally at the beginning of the year, we ended up working together and spent most of our time mock shooting each other across the office because our job sucked so bad it was better than doing actual work. Now we find our paths crossing again in the world of blogging. Gemma will message me, asking me to share her stuff, which I do, and I consider asking her to do the same but I don’t. I sit back going “nah, she wouldn’t like what I write about.”

The big difference between us is that Gemma shares her work with friends and family, I don’t. The only person that knows that I do this is my hubby-to-be and that’s kind of sad. I’m actually very shy when it comes to my work and I worry that those who know me will read it, sit back and think to themselves, “that was a bit pants,” while being nice to my face about my random rants about everything. I lack the confidence to shout out and tell everyone what I do, Gemma is slowly taking over the world with her tales of dog bums and snotty tissues.

So, rather than ask her to blow my trumpet for me, I’m going to do it for her. It’s my way of saying sorry for being a horrible, rancid bitch when we were younger. And maybe karma will be good to me and I’ll have a million new followers tomorrow. I wish…….

Check out Gemma at http://deathofaspinster.blogspot.co.uk/