Working Girl

So yes, I will update on the wedding and all its splendidness at some point.

I'll tell you about the dress, the car, the cake, the reception, the giant cocks. All that good stuff.

In the meantime I am freaking out about an enormous work-related challenge which involves me, the girl who is deeply, irrationally afraid of pretty much every mode of transport from rollerskates up, spending the next six weeks on/in planes/ships/Ukranian taxis.

I fly to Istanbul next Tuesday. I will be attempting to fly home from Odessa next Friday. Then I do it again in a fortnight. Then I do some different routes on different ships and by the end of it I am expected to have rolled out a new Personnel system across a fleet of cruise ships. Then I have to do it all again early next year for Phase 2.

No pressure then. Pray to your individual gods for me.

eep!

The Girl Can't Help It

So anyway. Let's start again, shall we?

I went for a smear test this afternoon*. It's the second one in six months as I had an abnormal** one last time. So there I was again, legs akimbo, staring at the ceiling with an anglepoise lamp illuminating my foofoo, trying to cheer the atmosphere up a bit. In my own inimitable style. You know. It went a little something like this:

Nurse: Lovely***. Now, I'm just going to introduce the speculum to your cervix.

Me: Oh. Ha ha! Like, speculum, cervix; cervix, speculum?

Nurse: ...............................

Yay me. Oh, and I got married. And I have dreadlocks again. And I lost loads of weight for the wedding and am now doing that slow-motion-ballon-inflating thing where I'm ever so gradually getting really fat again. Boo.

As you were.

* Look, I'm sorry. But I have to share these things.

** Abnormal? Me? Really, what are the chances? Ha.

*** Why do nurses always say "lovely" at the most inopportune moments?