I know, you saw the title and thought - 'I've read this post before!'
But you haven't.
The thing is, the post I wrote before was more about people asking me what the fuck I was doing but I realised that, while that IS a common occurrence what I hadn't included were the numerous times I've asked myself that exact same question.
Take yesterday for example. I'd stopped by Mambos for a lime and soda and was happily catching up on emails and minding my own business.
Anyway, there I was tapping away when I was joined by a group of youngsters who sat at the next table talking about their drunken exploits - like they were the ones who invented getting pissed and making an exhibition of yourself for gods sake!
I couldn't help overhearing and to be honest thinking it all sounded a little lame really. I was tempted to add a few my own anecdotes - ever laid on a bar and alternately had hazelnut syrup and champagne poured into your mouth?
Thought not ...
Ever tried to balance your foot on someone's shoulder and fallen over and smashed your knee to buggery?
Nup, I doubt it ...
Ever dragged your sleeping friend feet first out of an underground carpark - hooked your leg behind your head whilst balancing on a barstool in Amsterdam - spent a drunken night partying with the Spin Doctors - stood in a kebab shop and .... Actually, you know what? You get the picture ...
It was fairly clear that most of them had yet to experience those life events that litter my dim and distant past.
I was about to open my mouth and interject when I saw it!
A fuck off big bug CLIMBING UP MY LEG!!!
Seriously, this thing had at least 12 legs, foot long antenna, 4 sets of wings and mander fucking BALLS!!
I SHIT YOU NOT - it was a monster!!!! And it was almost at my knee ...
I reacted silently.
I swiped that MoFo so hard it sailed clean over their table.
I was just congratulating myself on dealing with the situation without causing a scene and went to take a swig of my drink when I realised it was gone!
I'd had it on my hand when I swiped the bug and had thrown the whole thing, glass and all straight into the lap of one of the guys at the next table and he now had lime and soda dripping down his jeans and onto the ground ...
Five faces were looking from him to the mad woman at the next table who had, in an apparently unprovoked attack, just thrown her drink at him.
I TRIED to apologize - I TRIED to explain ....
I wish to god I HAD screamed at that bastard bug so they knew I wasn't just mental.
I did reconsider sharing my drunken antics though, somehow I wasn't sure it was going to further my case.
I thought it was better just to leave ...
The other thing I find I often ask myself is - ' where the fuck did I leave my bike ...' (As you know, I AM a keen cyclist ;-) it takes about 10 minutes to walk from my house into town but only 3 to cycle, its a no brainer isn't it?
So I pop into town and I lock my bike to one of the many bike racks dotted about town and go for a wander.
Then can't remember where I left the bloody thing!
I'm endlessly trying not to look suspicious as I hover around the racks trying to work out if one of them is mine.
You know, I think I might suffer from bike blindness!
I'm going to ask my doctor if its a recognised condition and if not, well, it SHOULD be!
Honestly, I genuinely can't pick mine out when its parked up with half a dozen others. Mines a fairly distinctive shade of turquoise (but of course) but chuck any blue or green bike into the mix and I'm confused.
I'm terrified I'm going to be caught trying to unlock someone else's thousand pound bike or something and they are never going to belive that I mistook it for my slightly tatty second hand one and so I hover or move on to the next row of racks trying to pretend I know what I'm doing ...
On more than one occasion I've been desperately walking up and down trying to identify my bike before remembering that I'd actually chosen to walk that day.
Seriously, WTF Sarah ...!!