I work in PR. I represent a school. This school has a band. You see where this is going right?

Said band is gunna make it the charts, we just know it. Well, actually we don't but that is the dream.

I am not going to mention the band by name as these stories are just not in line with their branding... and they are slightly embarrassing.

Welcome to the series of 'Me. The unwanted member of a girl band'.

First up, what on earth is fleek?

Well let's get straight into this story. I met the band for the first time and was so very nervous as I had only just really started working on my own with this client. I so wanted to impress them and be grown up. I had devised a flawless plan to be super fierce, Tyra Banks style. Me and the teacher there had decided I would help the girls decide on their style, so being the total fashion guru I am, I jumped at the chance knowing I'd be great at it.

I blow dried my hair perfectly, painted my nails to perfection, arrived 5 mins early so I wasn't breathless from the walk and even ate at the perfect time so my belly wasn't rumbling mid meeting.

I was ready.

Until I was shown to the office where we would have our meeting. Now, have you ever been in a public toilet cubicle? Not a big disabled one with space, no a little normal sized one. Some elbow room for pulling up your trousers but that's the extent of it? No exaggeration... That is how small it was.

5 people were now meeting for the first time in this toilet cubicle sized office. To be fair, I'm being cruel, it was a nice, cosy office for one person. But for 5 people it just ain't practical.

So I am basically sat on one of the band members knees now and I am sweating. Pretty sure my concealer is f***ed and because of the stress, I'm hungry. Great.

Second part and worst part for me is coming up.

We start talking style, I start to recover. The sweats, well, all I am saying is the people in that room were lucky I had put my Mitchum Advanced on that morning. But the hunger seemed to have wavered and my face cooled down. I was talking clothes and accessories. It was all uphill from here.

Then we moved onto make-up. One girl starts talking brows. For the photo shoot, she says, she needs her brows to be 'on fleek'. On fleek? How do I respond to that? That is the first piece of slang from a younger person that I have never heard of.

This was the point in my life where I was officially no longer a youth, I was now in my twenties and well and truly out of it.

I thought I was going to start crying.

I have since googled the term and asked some friends - who are, fortunately for them, with the times - and now it all makes sense. I can now use the word. And hope to God in high bloody heaven no-one thinks it's ironically. That's when you really are past it.

So this is based on a true story. Promise.

Step 1: Empty your entire wardrobe... and your dads.
Step 2: Find all the clothes you don't need anymore - BE RUTHLESS
Step 3: Get your mum to drive you to a cash for clothes site or charity shop that buys bags of clothes.
Step 4: Pray you get some good money.
Step 5: Take the £9 the man offers even if you think its stingy as fudge.
Step 6: Get all your pennies from your penny jar... and your dads bedside drawer...
Step 7: Get your mum to take you to your local supermarket (Asda or Morribobs) and head straight to the COINSTAR machine.
Step 8: Pour in your pennies and stick a few surprise pounds in from your purse.
Step 9: Claim that £22 at the till
Step 10: Get your mum to check her emails
Step 11: Get her to claim that £10 voucher for your local pub grub/restaurant (based on her having a loyalty card)
Step 12: Count your money like a gangster.
Step 13: Go to said local restaurant and get drunk and eat nice food with your mum.

Winner.

handshaking

When are handshakes appropriate?

For a guy it seems like it's always okay but for a woman only in a professional situ will you see us shake hands. Is that right? I don't know.
I do know, that they aren't appropriate next to the broccoli on a Sunday in the supermarket.

See I have this tendency to misread situations. Not vocal situations or sarcasm or anything like that but physical situations. Let me explain...

I always find myself asking questions like 'Are we going to hug now or would that be weird? Will it be weird cause I am at least a foot taller than you?' I swear I can't be the only one with this problem! More often than not when I hear my inner voice repeating these questions over and over in potentially awkward situations. I always pick the wrong option and end up in a warm embrace with a cardboard cut out of the person that once stood before me.

Back to handshakes, this one time, not in band camp but in my local Morribobs, I was with my mum, brother, niece and sister in law doing a quick basket shop. My and my brother were browsing in the veggie aisle when we saw mum talking to some strange woman. We quickly realised we both knew her face but didn't actually know who she was - often the case with mum's friends. My brother pointed out he thought she was an old neighbour, which seemed right but we soon discovered he was wrong.

Mum came over to us with this not-so-strange woman, grinning ear to ear, and I found myself utterly perplexed, thinking 'Who are you?!' So mum starts introducing her to my sister in law and niece then as she points to my brother with a proud smile the woman gestures towards him with her hand, she does the same to my neice and then my mum starts to talk about me and this familar faced lady turns to me.

I start to panic, feel my palms sweat, mum hasn't said her name, am I supposed to know it? Her arm is still stuck out and suddenly I see this arm by the side of me, hand going towards hers. I realise it's mine but it's too late, I'm already shaking her hand.

One sweaty handshake later, she says her hellos and goodbyes, coos at my niece and walks off. I look around at my family to see sheer bewilderment. Them all waiting for me to explain my actions. Turns out she has known me since nursery and she is the mother of my best friend through primary school.

Wait, what just happened?

.

There are various definitions for various different people on what constitutes a 'bad day'. I've always thought there was just one, that something bad happens. But not even.

Some people think a bad day is a day where something goes wrong at work and you get a bollocking off you boss.

Some people think a bad day is a day where your hair is a mess and you break at least two nails in the space of those dreaded 24 hours.

Some people even think a bad day is just when you really don't want to deal with reality and nothing bad actually happens to you.

Then, there is me.

Today was my bad day.

I woke up actually feeling quite ready to face the day head on. It may have only been a typical Tuesday but my little red head was ready to take on the world. I skipped merrily down the stairs to make a brew and microwave myself a cherry and dark chocolate croissant (if that doesn't get you off to a good start, I don't know what will). Open the plastic tray, remove croissant, place onto plate, place plastic tray into microwave, close door, turn to 10 seconds, star....WAIT. Back up. Good job I didn't press start... This was the moment I realised what kind of day I was going to have.

I go to work, nothing unusual happens, I thank God I didn't miss my bus as I do every day. I nearly fall asleep on the bus but still remember to get off (yes I nearly didn't get off once, good job the bus was sitting at my bus stop for a short while...). Everything was okay so far. My heart dropped when I thought I had left my bank card at home thus rendering myself Gregg's-Mocha-and-doughnut-less, but I found it in the end.

My day seemed to be salvaging itself and I convinced myself it might actually go well.

So I decided to make everyone a brew. Before I know it I am crouched in front of the fridge trying to work out why the kettle won't fit in the fridge, I then realise that kettles don't go in fridges. Explanation... I'm a grade A fool (well, I just zoned out and thought I was holding the milk but who tries to put a kettle in a fridge?!). This was the point I realised it was time to bury myself in work and not do any ordinary tasks that meant I could zone out and end up with boiling hot kettles trying to be shoved onto tiny fridge shelves with the milk and grapes.

I did this, until... I riskily made another brew, and so happy it went well, I cracked open a packet of my favourite crisps (salt and vinegar Squares boys). I tuck in. I'm working, drinking my tea, eating my crisps, life's good ...until you realise you have a curse called butterfingers and BOOM, crisp in your tea. There was no salvaging this beautiful brew and this was the moment I realised I needed to go home.

My utter stupidness made me feel so terrible that I got stressed over tiny work things that didn't matter, my period didn't help!, and I gave in to the 'bad day' by cancelling my driving lesson. Because lets be honest, I on this day, would not be safe in a car and neither would all of you.

I ended my day in a lashing of rain without an umbrella because I am currently donating them to the bus service I use.

Now I am home, knowing these three things:

A. I am dangerous when on my period
2: I am dangerous when not on my period, let's be honest.
iii: I am alone and kiss-less on Kiss a Ginger Day! (Yes, I am ginger).

Now let's vote, was this or was this not a BAD DAY?!

P.S. I am laughing about my day so please don't worry too much about my feelings (though donations of salt and vinegar Squares are welcome).