Self induced traffic, why Hitler lied to me, food, and other such delights.

There I was, driving to work this morning, happy as Larry (we all love Larry), singing along to the Charlatans, delighted that FINALLY I'd managed to leave the house on time... But, more often than not, fate has a sly little way of writhing in and making sure everything goes wrong BECAUSE THAT'S HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE - I must always be a tiny bit late for work! Just like Jessica Fletcher will always be haunted by murderers. And good for her, I say. She intertwined it with her job, got on with things, and discovered an amazing flair for crime solving.

Anyway. BAM: traffic jam on the M5, apparently caused by a small, piddly accident that didn't hurt anybody anyway. And WHY, you might ask, was there traffic when all had been cleared? Well, let me tell you. We, the British public, pretend to keep ourselves to ourselves, stiff upper lip, emotionless (feel free to add in your own plethora of such pejorative characteristics.) But it's all a load of bollocks. As soon as someone has even the tiniest bump on our roads we all instinctively slow down to LESS than snails pace just to have a right royal nosy at what's going on. We must all admit that part of us is desperate to see something awful. Something disgusting. Something that makes the whole family gather round, arms on your shoulder when you get home, "what's happened, are you ok?" "No, I'm NOT OK! I drove past a crash today and saw this guy impaled on an unfortunate and particularly sharp and knife-shaped, concrete slab that had just happened to break off the edge of the motorway bridge, SUCH was the force of the collision. Blood everywhere. I definitely need a lot of *chocolate* *alcohol* *insert own item of weakness*" We're all sadists really.

I got to work in the end, already slightly angry at still being late, despite making the effort to leave earlier. My boss asked me a question and I saw it as an excellent way to release the pent up anger. Had a tiny tiff, started work, did lots of tweeting and counted down the milliseconds till lunch...

I walked through Debenhams on the way to my usual Boots luncheon, past the over-priced 'designer' wear, the jewellery, and the make up lady, whose face, plastered in foundation, has single handedly deterred me from ever buying anything from her, and got to the perfumes. Yesterday, a woman who shall not be named - because I do not know her name - sprayed me with a lovely perfume and told me it was on special offer, "BUT ONLY FOR TODAY!" I was broke yesterday (I've now been paid, leaving my financial situation looking deceptively better) so I had to just walk on, mourning the loss of the fame and fortune I could have had, had I bought the amazing smell in a bottle. But, what was this I saw? The blady LYING COW was there again, AND SO WAS THE OFFER! She had ruddy well lied to my face! Much like the time when Hitler told me that the gas-releasing implements in the chambers I was building back in the early 40's were going to release a mild form of LSD to enhance the underground German party scene. Bastards, both of them. I didn't buy it, just to make a point. I shall now blame her for everything that goes wrong in my life from now on. So there.

Blimey, I've written lots tonight. Perhaps because I subconsciously know that I won't be on the Internet much this weekend, due to having a jam-packed weekend, bitch. Tomorrow lunchtime I'm heading to Rubgy to meet some friends and eat some food. Then tomorrow night I'll be in Nuneaton for a hen night, where I will eat some food. And then on Sunday I'm going out for my Grandad's birthday (happy birthday Gramps!) to eat some food. Essentially, I'll be eating a lot. But it's OK, 'cause I died X-biking earlier. Ghosts can't put weight on. Bahahaaa.

xxx