Almost Famous.

I was never a massive fan of Jane McDonald. I didn’t mind her, I remember watching her when she was on “The Cruise” 20 years ago and I used to watch her on Loose Women and thought that she seemed genuine, warm and down to earth so when the chance came to apply for a ticket to see her record her new Channel 5 series Jane McDonald and Friends at Media City, I thought it would be a nice way to spend a Thursday evening as Media City is literally round the corner from where I live.

I was sent a ticket along with an email asking did I have any funny stories about dating or relationships to which I replied “How long have you got?” After sending a couple of dating stories I was told that I would now be given a priority ticket and that maybe I would get to speak with Jane on the programme, along with the other audience members with stories to tell. This was beginning to sound a bit exciting.

On the day a few of us were seated close to the steps so it was easy for Jane to ask us for our stories, no point being sat right in the middle with no microphone, although to be fair most people will agree that I probably didn’t need one. We were warned though that she probably wouldn’t get to us all but I was hoping she’d ask me (I didn’t want this spray tan to go to waste) as I’d spent ages getting ready. It’s been years since I’ve been to watch a TV show being recorded and I’d forgotten how long it takes, and how hard people work, luckily for us that night we had a fantastic warm up man who kept the energy up for hours so it didn’t seem as long waiting for Jane to change into yet another fabulous dress. Before long Jane was doing the audience participation and came to speak to a couple right in front of me about how they met. Then she asked a couple who were sat right behind me about how they also met but she never got to me. That’s ok though, I was bound to be seen in the audience so I was happy with that and I have to say I really enjoyed the show and came away from it a bit of a fan.

Last Friday was the last episode of Jane McDonald and Friends so I was watching it trying to catch glimpses of myself in the audience, waiting until they showed Jane talking to the couples sat really close to me. It didn’t happen. Obviously a show that’s taken over 3 hours to record then has to be condensed into an hour so unfortunately a lot of stuff ends up on the cutting room floor so I reckon those couples who’d been filmed were fuming that they weren’t seen. So Jane never got to hear about some of the really bad dates that she would probably have to endure herself if she was single and dinosaur dating.  How some of the bald, fat old men seem to think they can get a woman 20 years younger who looks like a Victoria’s Secret model. How some of them get anxious if they have to leave their postcode to meet, or how most of the “spontaneous, lives life to the full, never a dull moment” is boring Brian with far too much time on his hands so likes to message his intended up to 50 times an hour and woe betide you if you don’t reply as quick as he would like.

Maybe next time.

 

Nenewho

 

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It’s That Time Of Year.

I’m not a fan of looking back, it reminds me that I could have probably handled a couple of situations better than I did, and it’s too late to change that now, but having said that it’s also nice to see all the good things that have happened in the past year so I’m going to concentrate on remembering all those as we wait to welcome in a new year.

  1. Back in January I moved into my lovely new place which is unofficially known as “Goddess Gardens.” At the start I didn’t have much but by the end of the year it’s not looking too bad if I say so myself.
  2. I didn’t realise how many radio interviews I’d actually done over the past year, usually about online dating of which I know a lot about unfortunately.
  3. In May someone on Twitter let me know there was a picture of me in Heat magazine. After an awful few minutes of hoping it wasn’t one of me stuffing my face with a sausage roll while sat in the smoking section outside of where I work, I was relieved to see it was a promo shot of Channel 4’s First Dates.
  4. Back in the summer I went on a really good date, was looking forward to a second date but on the day my date decided (after a lot of indecisiveness) to leave it until the week after. I think he might have double booked to be honest and couldn’t decide who to go for on the day but the fact I have met someone half decent has given me hope. And no, I didn’t meet him again, we had a date, he changed his mind a couple of hours before we were due to meet. Game over.
  5. In September when Hugh Hefner died I was invited to be a guest on the Dr. Pam Spurr show on Talk Radio talking about being a bunny back in the day. One of the questions she asked me did make me smile though, “So, did you and the other girls ever get excited thinking Hugh might walk in the club any minute?” The guy lived in America for god’s sake so I answered truthfully. “Not in Manchester Pam, no.”
  6. In October I went on a blind date for a national newspaper, all expenses paid for at the restaurant of my choice. After listening to Colin telling me the most outrageous things that apparently he never tells anyone, (why me Colin?) we left the restaurant to walk to the train station/bus stop.  I’d already warned him about trying to grope me outside the restaurant, but unfortunately he didn’t listen. Grappling with a 64 yr old at Piccadilly Gardens bus stop in Manchester isn’t my idea of how a date ends, so there was no second date for Colin.

So here we are, it’s that time of year where we all reflect on whether it’s been a good year or not. For me it wasn’t all good, some bad stuff happened but I’m going to focus on the positives and hoping next year will be even better.

Hope it’s a good one for everyone.

zsb6ww

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Close, But No Cigar

There was me getting all giddy about a second date, purely because I haven’t met many men that I would like to go on a second date with, and the ones that I have wanted to see again haven’t wanted to see me so this was exciting to say the least. Within a few days of chatting with “B” we arranged to meet up on Sunday for a couple of hours, both of us agreed there was absolutely no point in endless messages only to meet up and find that actually, we have nothing in common so I met him close to Piccadilly station, on the day that the EDL decided to have a march through Manchester and as it was kicking off we ended up in a lovely hotel bar.

There I learned that B had been married twice, and had spent the last few years in France with his second wife before she left to come back to England after one of her children had had a baby. “Do you have grandkids?” he asked. “No not yet, do you?” He answered that no he didn’t but he was glad that I didn’t have any as apparently he believes that if you’re with someone then that person should be their number one. This works perfectly well when you meet when you are young, no kids, no distractions, but life changes as we all know. ” Yes but surely you know that you’ll slip down the number one spot at some time if kids and grandchildren are involved? There will be times when you are needed to give your attention elsewhere.”  “Maybe, doesn’t mean I like it.”  So I let that one go, for now. It was nice to hear that he liked going to watch live music and he said that he’d been to watch a Pink Floyd tribute band the night before.  “Not for me I’m afraid, never liked  prog rock could never get into it.” I told him. Two hours flew by and it was one of the best dates I’d had in a long time so I was more than happy to meet up again.

The next day I had a text asking did I want to go and watch the Pink Floyd tribute band with him on Friday as he was going again? “Not really, going to pass on that, pretty sure I told you I didn’t like them.” “You did but thought you might appreciate some musical education.” I declined and sat back waiting for an alternative that didn’t arrive. In the meantime I had noticed that in nearly all of our conversations he turned it around to sex which was really beginning to annoy me and make me feel a bit uncomfortable, I don’t mind a bit of banter but this was something else. So, we managed to arrange a second date and both of us agreed we were really looking forward to it.

Which should have been today.

Having arranged to meet at around 4 this afternoon I had a couple of texts this morning. ” Will have to drive but not sure I can see you without having a drink, maybe we should meet next week around 12 and then we have all day.” All day for what? To drink?  I don’t think so. This is in between getting texts saying ” Really looking forward to seeing you but not sure you are feeling the same as me.” Oh come on now B let’s not start sounding needy, then I remembered that this guy likes to feel special, to know he’s number one but this was only a second date after all. So, around 1-30 I had another message saying that he wasn’t seeing me today after all he’d rather wait until next week when instead of a few hours we could have all day. Talk about being indecisive.

I didn’t reply.

He then found me on WhatsApp and an hour later sent me a photo of himself with two ice creams saying ” Not had a mega ice cream for ages.” “Mega as in two?” I replied. “Oh the other is for a mate lol.” I don’t know if it was or maybe he’d double booked himself today I really don’t know, all I know is that we’d arranged a date and as far as I’m concerned I was given not very good excuses as to why he didn’t turn up. But here’s a tip, don’t be the idiot who sends a photo through social media saying what a good time you’re having after you’ve  cancelled a date.

Bye Felicia.

byefelicia

 

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Too Cool For School

So a brand new themed bar/restaurant has opened in Manchester and judging by the pics and videos I’ve seen, it looks amazing. With lots going on which includes aerial dancers that will pour the champagne into your glass from above, cocktails being served with a burning £20 note, not to mention a catwalk, and with even the waiting staff doing some sort of a performance, the Menagerie is set to be the next place to be seen in. I can’t wait to see it but it would seem my invitation to the opening night didn’t get lost in the post, I’m just not enough of a Z lister to make the cut even though I can be as pretentious as the rest of the people who this place will undoubtedly attract.

It all started with going to the local youth club where most of the kids on the estate ended up going on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. A place that had a record player playing vinyl records of whatever was in the charts, with all the girls showing off their moves on the dance floor in the latest outfit bought by the money they’d earned babysitting. The boys of course were in groups either playing pool or darts, or stood around watching the girls, and if they liked one of them then maybe he’d buy her a soft drink and a packet of crisps out of the money he earned doing his paper round. From the youth club, it progressed to the under 18’s disco which was a whole different ball game. Now you’re meeting a lot of new people in a much bigger venue and there was a lot of competition between the girls to impress the lads who were allowed upstairs to drink alcohol from the bar. By now, the outfits you were buying weren’t from the local market but from decent shops in town, usually trying to buy something no one else had to stand out from the crowd. This is probably around the time you try to get served in pubs, or sit in a corner and send the lad who looks old enough to get served who ends up buying drinks for everyone, no one asked for ID in those days, more like the question “What’s your date of birth?”  with the drink of choice being half a cider and blackcurrant or half a lager and lime.

By the time you’re 17/18 is around the time when you decide if you’re happy to stay in your home town going out to the handful of bars/clubs available every week or maybe see what the nearest big city has to offer. There’s always been pretentious bars in Manchester and the boyfriend I had at the time took me to probably all of them, and I loved it so much that there was no turning back for me. Standing there, looking fab, being seen, pretending that you’re somebody while all the time people watching to see if you recognise anyone. Paying far too much for your drinks and noticing that not many people actually laugh or have fun as they’re too busy being fabulous dahling. But these aren’t the best nights.

The best nights are in the dives where they play the best music, drinks are cheap, and you can really let your hair down. Where you end up going home with a cigarette burn in your dress, lipstick smudged all over your face where you’ve been kissing random guys, and one shoe missing. Where your feet hurt because you’ve been dancing all night, holding a bottle of beer because they don’t do fancy cocktails. Where you’ve ended up chatting with people who you would never usually meet in the places you go to, who actually have a tale to tell. Where you’ve had such a good time if only you could remember it. These are the best nights.

But I am looking forward to seeing this new fabulous place, but I won’t be going at the weekend, I’m certainly not going to risk anyone thinking I’ve got lost on the way to bingo. No, I’ll be going on my day off, sometime in the afternoon when I won’t feel out of place, when it’s quieter and the fabulous attention seeking people aren’t there. Yes I won’t be seeing the theatrical performance put on at the weekends but I can still appreciate the surroundings and if anyone is there at the same time and wants to buy a fabulous former “it” girl a drink, I’ll have a white wine spritzer with soda thank you.

Cheers.

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Memoirs Of A Playboy Bunny. Part One.

A long time ago I had an interview for Playboy. Just to be an average bunny girl and not one of the Playmates you understand as these are two entirely different things. So how did this come about? Well, I’ll tell you.

I’d just returned to England after having worked a year in Spain so I went along to the local job centre where back in the day, every job was displayed on a card. I picked one up that said “Receptionist wanted at club in Manchester.” and took it to one of the women who were sat behind various desks waiting to help. She dialled the number after looking me up and down and was obviously being asked questions about my appearance from the person on the other end of the phone. When she put the phone down she told me it was for Playboy in Manchester and that I was to take a swimsuit with me to wear at the interview. “Sorry I didn’t realise. Thanks for phoning I’ll go and have another look around”. I said as I got up to leave. The woman stopped me.”Go to the interview, you’ve nothing to lose.”…so I did.

Wearing a swimming costume while being interviewed is a bit surreal but the manager must have liked me as he sent me into the lion’s den, the dressing rooms where all the bunnies got ready to do their shift. Two “bunny mothers” were there weighing a few other girls who had also come for an interview but these “mothers” were brutal. One stunning looking girl was told to come back when she’d lost a stone so I was dreading stepping onto those scales as I knew they were going to whizz round at least three times. And I was right.This has always been a problem for me, in fact at one time I never used to have scales in the house as young girls become a slave to them and who’s to say that every 5ft 6″ girl should weigh the same? The women looked confused. I was a size 12, gorgeous, and obviously looked a lot slimmer than what the scales said.

“Try this costume on” said one as she helped me into it.”Does that feel comfortable?” I said it wasn’t too bad.”It’s too big then, try this.” My god. Those costumes gave you a figure that you would never have (unless you’re Barbie) it was so tight I could hardly breathe. It’s corseted with whale bone and the trick is to lean forward and sort of sit your boobs on top while stuffing a load of padding in the slits of the costume under your boobs. It was cut really high to the hip bone so there was no way you could wear any underwear but the effect was amazing. A tail was added on the back white collar with bow tie, white cuffs with cufflinks, and of course the bunny ears. You also had to wear two pairs of tights, one tan then a black pair over the top of those so that your legs looked toned, with court shoes. We were given three costumes and believe it or not none of mine were black. We were also given a new name which was on a rosette worn on the hip (that took some getting used to though, I think everyone thought I was deaf) and I had permanent bruises on my hips where the costume was digging in but I have to say I felt a million dollars.

Once I started the job I was to learn that it usually took an hour at least to get ready, and I also had to learn how to do the notorious “bunny dip” but that’s another story.

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