A sexy late-night blog post...

WARNING: this blog post will not be in any way sexy... and also it’s not that late at night. Basically that title is a fallacy in two ways. But it is true in that it will be a blog post.
I apologise in advance for I am very, very, very tired and grubby from my day blundering about London which turned out to be a waste of time, the stupid corporate people didn’t like me, but more on that later. I always feel when I come back from London that I look like one of the Chimney sweeps from Mary Poppins, my skin feels sooty. Not like the puppet dog. Just sort of grimy. Not like Wiley. I need this to stop right now.
Did I mention I’m VERY tired? Also I started writing this blog when I was on the train listening to Burial (which always puts me in a strange mood) but I’ll write down my notes anyhow however nonsensical and grammatically cruddy they may be (cruddy is a word I haven’t used for a long time, also... ninny) Errm, right I’ve lost my train of thought. Ah! Yes! I was on the train and I got to thinking (and this is going to sound like I’m completely mad) but you know when you see something out of the corner of your eye, you think it’s one thing and it turns out to be something else? Well that happens to me quite a lot and the strange thing is, I am always mistaking inanimate objects for cats. It’s a very specific hallucination. This evening on the train home something caught the attention of my peripheral vision and I thought ‘why is there a cat on a train?’... it turned out to be a kid (I’m assuming). Not only do I see cats everywhere, I always feel a little bit disappointed when the ‘cat’ turns out to be a plastic bag or a shoe. I mention that because I think it proves that a mind like mine doesn’t belong in a corporate setting. It belongs in some sort of dream or institution.
The interview thing was just a bit silly really, loads of group work and stuff for what is essentially a very individual job. And let’s face it, no-one really wants to be a corporate wanker. Especially not me. I think they saw that I’m a moderately cheerful person and thought ‘NO SHE IS NOT AT ALL SERIOUS!’ and that was that! Or maybe it was elitism! They heard me say the word ‘glass’ and I didn’t extend the ‘a’ sound and that was that! Or perhaps they could see how uncomfortable I was in a suit (pencil skirts look amazing but bloody hell they are stop-you-breathing-if-you-sit-down-too-fast restrictive). Some people just don’t like cheerful people, one of my ex’s friends thought I was sycophantic because I laugh a lot, now I’m always a tiny bit scared that I come across as a simpering fool. Ho hum etc. Anyway, serious people tend to take an instant dislike to me and perhaps that’s why. What’s wrong with laughing though? The world is quite serious enough. In fact here’s a quote from the world:
“I am very serious”
See?
Also I was just lying upon my bed, I think the whole interview fiasco (£100 WASTED!) has made me a bit self-analytical. Me and my dearest friend Aimee always used to laugh about the fact that I really believe that life can be like films sometimes. And sometimes I try to make filmic scenarios occur but they never, ever, ever turn out like a film. All of my little scenarios end badly. My favourite example of this is ‘Handsome Boy’... well, whilst at University, Aimee and I lived across the road from a very handsome boy, and we named him ‘Handsome Boy’. I decided that it would be fun if we somehow made contact with him by putting a sign in one of our windows or something. It took us ages to hatch a plan but then I thought, what would be quite sweet (and a bit like a film) would be to put a little ring of flowers on his car aerial (not a euphemism). So I sewed together some little yellow flowers, and, just like the closing scenes of Rear Window, Aimee (Jimmy Stewart) kept a lookout for handsome boy at his bedroom window, while I (Grace Kelly? Really Ella?...I’m only comparing my actions to her, not my looks, style or general demeanor) slyly crept across the street and put the flowers on his car. It was all very giggly and fun, and we waited for him to see them. And waited. And waited. Three days later they had wilted beyond all recognition. So then I had the scarier task of swapping the old flowers for some fresh ones. Again, the operation was a success. The following day, however (and these are the moments I realise life will never, ever, ever be like the films) I was sat at my desk busy working when I saw Handsome Boy leave the house with a GIRL! The girlfriend then took the flowers from his aerial and stomped them into the ground. Which puts a crushing end to my childish belief that life can ever be as easy and beautiful as a film.
I have so many more examples of mildly filmic, romantic moments gone awry, most aren’t worth discussing for their utter hopelessness though!
I’m going to sleep byyeee