Thursday, October 30, 2008

ladies who...

Last night I rather spontaneously went to a gathering of chicks I've never met, who work in technology. A big step for me - I hate going to social things by myself. Once I get started, I'm fine, but the thought of walking into a room full of people I don't know and then starting a random conversation with them scares the life out of me. My usual style is to take a wingman/woman and spend the entire time with them, which I realise defeats the object of networking but is infinitely less scary.

Anyway I decided to give it a go and promised myself a swift exit if my courage deserted me. It's the initial bit - the 'hi, I'm Zuzula, who are you then?' bit that brings me out in a cold sweat. Especially when everyone else is already happily chatting and you're interrupting a conversation. I have hung around hopelessly on the sidelines before now, unable to enter the fray.

Pathetic, I know - which is exactly why I ended up in a Soho bar last night, clutching a glass of white wine while women around me chattered on about their latest technology start-up ventures. I was on the verge of giving up on the whole thing after just ten minutes (I really am that crap) when I was rather fortuitously rescued by one of the token three men in the room. I have long believed that I get on better with boys than girls - perhaps an unconscious rebellion against my single sex education - and this to me proved my point.

The Chap and I chatted away happily but, as is always the case, word was spreading about where I work, and before long I was mobbed by a couple of publicity hungry scavengers and torn away from my comfort zone once more. The Chap left shortly afterwards but not before pressing his personal business card into my hand, having already given me the company one. It was all very flattering - even if I am inevitably going to have to send him in your direction, Ms Confuddled ;)

After he left though, I met some other truly lovely people - some who are definitely going to be contacts and others who I hope may also become friends. I am determined to force myself to do these things more often - ultimately, it's good for the soul. Although hopefully next time I won't find myself chatting to a cheerful techie (her opening gambit was that she doesn't know how to make conversation, must remember that one) only to realise that a former fling is standing right behind her, taking photos. What the hell?

That was a shock to the system and a stretched my already exhausted bravado too far. I did what any sensible lady would have done at that point - I hid.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008


Some tyrant - I forget who, it could even have been a former boss for all I know - once said that people are best motivated by being cold and hungry. Well since our heating packed up and MC ate the last biscuit I can say with authority that I am both - but still not in the least bit inspired to leave the sofa.

Winter has officially landed in London. It's dark, cold and even wetter than usual. By the time I got home from work this evening I looked like I'd been swimming. My chic little mini umbrella was about as much use as a thumbnail of loo roll against the elements.

My jeans and jacket are drip-drying in the bath. This means, naturally, that I am approximately 24 hours away from my first cold of the season. Splendid. I must learn to fly south for the winter like every other sensible animal.

Oh - one piece of good news to emerge from the swamp today... The TV people loved my little feature so much, they've asked me to do another. I have to admit, I'm chuffed to bits. This time apparently, I am to 'green screen'. What on earth am I going to wear?

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Lingerie logic

I’ve just received an email from John Lewis department store cannily offering a pre-Christmas ‘gentleman’s lingerie academy’ in order to help hapless males find the perfect seasonal present for their beloveds. The store is basically offering beer and giftwrap to lure in the menfolk – which is pretty much what we ladies do all year round to reel in the boys ourselves.

Their press release, somewhat impressively considering the subject matter and the intended audience, is about 10,000 words long. I’ll spare you all that though - the two bits of most useful advice, IMHO, are these, and I present them as a service to all readers of this blog hoping to please the ladies (it might even get you an extra shag this Christmas, who knows?)

1. Buying lingerie for your partner can be a minefield of unintended suggestions, and sizing is the most important thing to get right – a thong three sizes too big could suggest that your lady’s bottom does look big in this. So, if you haven’t remembered to check the size she wears, bear in mind that it is probably better to buy a size too small than risk offending your partner. Silk nightwear such as negligees and kimono style wraps are an excellent get-out clause that will never disappoint.
(hear, hear)

2. While checking her size, it is also worth noting what sort of lingerie your partner likes to wear – is she a sporty type, glamour puss, everyday Miss Practical or perhaps she has an entire lingerie wardrobe! Our Lingerie Advisers can guide and help you to decipher the different styles of lingerie from full cup, padded, balconette to plunge, underwired to multiway.
(as the recipient of a few teeny weeny bits of flimsy see-thru fluffy things in my time, I support this too. That said, there is a time and a place for everything, and a bumper pack of black cotton briefs simply ain’t gonna cut it at Christmas)

It’s that simple. MC, are you reading this…? ;)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

15 seconds of fame...

Well, 1 minute and 50 seconds to be precise. Today I made my debut on national TV - presenting my first ever little section of the show. It was of course about webbery. It was also pre-recorded (scandal!), and naturally I have put it up online (there must be some perks to being the only person in the office who knows how to update the website, right?) I can't link to it here for obvious reasons but if you're that desperate to see it, drop me an email and I'll send you the link.

Making it was surprisingly scary. I thought I was so used to being out of my comfort zone in this new job that nothing would phase me anymore, but there was a lot to think about and the person who should have been supervising my virgin TV effort was... well, largely absent, to say the least. Fortunately the rest of the team took pity on me as I grew increasingly vocal about all the things I didn't know how to do and it eventually came together just in time.

I have to admit that watching it go out was as exciting as it was cringeworthy.

I hope they ask me to do it again.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

guys, what's up?

I've just been out for a drink with my landlady who has inadvertently confirmed for me a baffling pattern. She is, as far as I can see, the archetypal eligible bachelorette. She's cute, slim, blond, wealthy (and no, she doesn't read this blog) and everybody she dates will not commit to her. I have heard the same story from 5 equally dateable women this weekend.One split with a long term partner because after 7 years he refused to move in with her. What's going on? I don't get why there seems to be such laissez faire around at the moment. If the financial crisis is as bad as it looks, we're all going to need bed buddies for warmth if nothing else this winter. Time to cosy up, I would have thought...

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Walls have ears...

In TV land it I have learned that everyone who's on screen - actors, presenters, performers, etc - are referred to as 'The Talent'. Hateful term but I suppose you can't really call them the eye candy. (Blonde Blogshell - you are of course the exception to all this darling!)

Anyway it's an unwritten rule that if you are not a member of The Talent yourself then You Must Not Upset The Talent. This means being nice and polite and friendly at all times - even if said showboater is unspeakably vile in return.

Yesterday, after a particularly unpleasant exchange with one of our 'talent' - who seems to have been rude to everybody else at some point so I suppose it was my turn - a sympathetic colleague sent me a commiseratory email in which she was less than flattering about said Ego-On-Legs. Only somehow, somehow, this email ended up in the team inbox. I have absolutely no idea how that happened. As she said to me afterwards... MSN from now on. Or is that under someone's watchful eye too?

Sunday, October 5, 2008

waste of time

So far today has been an absolute waste of time. The whole event is fit only to be filed under 'pointless-hours-of-my-life-i-will-never-get-back'. It's quite a big folder, as I suspect is the case with everyone who has a full time job. What's galling about today though is that it's not even office hours. I am wasting my own time. Ggrrr.

Firstly, the microwave caught fire.

Mother's reaction: 'what did you do to it?'
Z: 'I torched it.'

Honestly what the fuck does she think I did with it? All I was trying to do was heat some food, which I believe is the entire point of the thing. Anyway. The microwave was a gift from my 83 year old grandmother, who I am sure told me she bought it from Argos. Rather than upset her by telling her she'd given me an inferno as a housewarming gift, I decided to tactfully take it back and hope that, on account of the fact that it was still smoking, they wouldn't be overly fussy about whether or not I had the receipt. So I packed it up and carried the heavy box for miles, in the rain, back to the shop. Only to find she'd clearly got confused: the microwave isn't from Argos after all, and I have no idea where she bought it. Cue me lugging said heavy box back to the car again, still in the rain.

Then three cars - three! - in a row cut me up on the road, leaving me beeping and swearing and generally making every rude gesture possible, feeling like a raging bull. I saw red, I really did. I don't think I've ever had hardcore roadrage before but my God, was I incensed. My heart was pounding and it was all I could do not to just drive straight into the dimwitted wankers.

Decided to calm down by engaging in a spot of retail therapy, but of course, I couldn't find anything remotely attractive. Oh - and I've just got to the gym to use the spa (what could be more calming than that?) only to find the bloody thing is out of order. At least I can use the internet here which is more than i can say for home - yup, the Blackberry is on strike too.

I want to go back to bed.

Speaking of which last night I was flicking through the free channels, half pissed, when I found this random 'adult' show called Party Girls on Smile TV (not exactly a saucy name but there you go). It was quite possibly the least arousing bit of soft porn I have ever seen. Some heavily tattooed, orange Glaswegian lass wearing a very cheap wig and fake eyelashes writhing around on a sofa in Primark underwear pretending to talk into a phone which very clearly wasn't ringing despite her attempts to generate callers by licking the handset with pierced tongue. Still it did remind me to put out the recycling. I guess you get what you pay for.

Friday, October 3, 2008

time flies

It's been so long since I last blogged - I am ashamed of myself. It sounds so tedious to bleat that it's because I've been excruciatingly busy but sadly that is the boring truth. I have no more elaborate excuse to offer and I'm too tired to think of one.

I've spent the last couple of days locked away in a stuffy training room learning how to make stuff for the telly. The first day was very technical, both dull and difficult - a lethal combination. Today has been better but I feel like I have fried half my brain, and still I'm not quite sure what an oov is.

Having worked my little socks off on the website, the response from the team has been well, underwhelming to say the least. Maybe they hate it, who knows, but I wish they would say something - anything - about it. Sigh. They say that no news is good news I suppose.

Having a bit of a wobble this week actually. Everything is so new and my life is changing so fast. I feel like I need some time out to catch my breath. But you can talk yourself out of anything if you spend long enough thinking about it, and that, I think, is what I used to spend a lot of time doing. Maybe I need a holiday. Anyone fancy having a visitor? :)