Girl. 30. Living this thing called life.

Just me. Being me.

Something you should know.. November 24, 2013

Filed under: My Views — emzee1983 @ 9:54 pm
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I have a Hetty Hoover.  When I hoover my house, I pull Hetty along behind me and talk to her.  I say things like;

“Hetty, you can get in that corner, I know you can.”


“Come on Hetty, keep up.”

It is not only Hetty I talk to.  I also talk to Mike the Microwave, Stevie the TV, Freddy the Fridge and Walter the Washer.  Oh, and Tumbly (the tumble drier).

Is that weird?



An award?? Little ole me?? August 29, 2013

Filed under: My Views — emzee1983 @ 7:13 pm
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The Versatile Blogger award


What is this?  I hear you cry!

I’ve only gone and got a Versatile Blogger award..

Such a lovely, funny, crazy, slightly insane blogger nominated me.  Do PLEASE check out her funny as f*** blog:


She makes me laugh out loud, several times a day.  I especially love her rainbow dusting ideas 🙂

Rules Rules Rules..

With these Internet awards, come rules!
Here we go:
1. Put the award on your blog and SMILE!
2. Do tell your readers that you’ve received the award!
3. Thank the kind person who nominated you and post a link to their blog.
4. Now, you go ahead and nominate 15 other lovely bloggers who you think are deserving of the award.
5. Whoosh a comment over to the 15 people you nominated, to let them know, of course! (You can do this by commenting on one of their posts.)
6. And finally, list 7 fascinating facts about yourself.


And now, I present to you, my fabulous nominees:
















Please, go ahead and start click-click-clicking onto their blogs!


And here are the 7 facts about me!

1.  I like saying to my other half things like: “How old are you? 4?” And then finding myself HILARIOUS.

2.  I am weird.  (See above).

3.  I once got my head trapped in my electric car window whilst I had my finger on the button to do it up.  My brain was all like; “Why is my head getting trapped?”  Whilst my wicked finger was like; “Mwahahaha..”

4.  I am stupid.  (See above).

5.  I find weird things funny.  Like saying the word “Vaseliiiiiine” In a very high pitched voice, stretching the i.  Try it. I bet you liked it.

6.  I talk to my dog.  I know other people do it too, but here I am, brave enough to admit it.  I imagine he calls me SUPER MUM.

7.  I cannot read or play music, I cannot read or speak any foreign language, but I can spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

I would just like to say, yet again, a HUGE Thank you to the wonderful ZOOBOO who nominated me.  Without you, I wouldn’t have received this award.



Girl. 30. Attempting the Phonetic Alphabet August 13, 2013

Filed under: My Views — emzee1983 @ 4:47 pm
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Some things you need to know about me..


I Love My Family.


I work in a busy office, and I deal with Joe Public every single day.  


I also have a long surname and day by day I invent new ways of trying to spell it to different people over the phone.


I am good at the phonetic alphabet.  Or so I think until I actually try and use it.  


“Eltringham, so how are you spelling that?”


“That’s E for Elephant, L for Lemons, T for Thomas, R for Rainbows, I for Insurance…”  and so on…


I often grab for words that usually end up being a bit ruder out loud then expected.  


“That’s N for Nuts…”


But that is nothing.  Nothing compared to my little sister and her ways of spelling our annoyingly long surname.  This is what happened:


“Eltringham, so how are you spelling that?”


“Thats E, L, T, then Ring as in Finger Ring….”


I love my family.


Girl. 30. Joined the gym. Am I skinny yet? July 11, 2013

Filed under: My Views — emzee1983 @ 7:15 pm
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I joined the gym this week. Yup. Big old me.

Going to the gym is an interesting experience. Especially for someone whose idea of exercise is doing the hoovering. Or walking the dog.

Take, for example, my induction. My introduction to the huge torture chamber with all of its machines and metal contraptions mocking me, laughing at me.
“Come over here, give me a go..” They call. So I do. I follow all the instructions written on their sides and still end up with my left leg underneath my right armpit whilst trying to pull my fingernails from my hair.

Anyway I am skipping ahead (well, crawling actually seeing as I can barely lift my legs high enough to take a step). My induction involved me, in a Monster munch t-shirt (I was trying to be ironic) some baggy track suit bottoms and a pair of old running trainers I found, still in their box, in the shed at the bottom of my garden. I’m still not entirely sure that they are mine.

So there I was, in all my fine attire, ready and raring to go. Already covered in a fine sheen of sweat from walking over to the gym from work. And the first thing the gym bunny makes me do? Get on the scales. Ouch. As if I weren’t already feeling a little awkward. Moving quickly on, he puts me through my paces in the gym, and actually I was feeling quite positive, until he put me on the treadmill at the end. And decided to talk to me for the full 17 minutes I was on it. Conversation went something like this;

HIM: So, how often are you thinking of coming here?

ME: red faced already I was thinking at least twice but er, puffpuff I will be trying to come three times a week…

HIM: That sounds good, just don’t go thinking that because you have been here you can have that plate of chips or mars bar..

ME: Oh I know.. going redder

HIM: What did you eat for breakfast?

ME: Um. Cereal bar?

HIM: hmmm… writes something I can’t see due to the sweat pouring into my eyes I eat porridge. Even in this weather. puffs his chest out a little. And lunch?

ME: um. puff puff pitta puff yoghurt puff

And so it continued. Him making me feel guilty about my eating habits whilst forcing me to climb higher and higher up this blasted treadmill. Until…

HIM: Let me just check your heart rate.. WOAH lets slow you down a bit now.


Another thing I find a bit weird about the gym is the sweat. It hangs in the air like an unseen curtain of moisture. Making you breathe it in. It is all over the machines, the floor, the toilet door.. Ugh.

One last thing. Why do women feel it is ok to swing around the ladies changing rooms stark naked? And engage you in conversation? Talk at you about random things like the spinning class, will I be tempted to join? Not if I end up looking like you love, all brown wrinkled skin with boobies that are sulking and looking at the floor. Stop showing me your boobies!

That is all.