giorge thomas

Right. So I’ve just come up wth the best. Game. Ever.

You can thank me later.

Actually, no, you can thank me now…

You’re welcome.

The game is called ‘Guess the Mutual Friend’ and all you need to play is a Facebook account. Now, let’s face it. We all have one of those. Am sure is now a prerequisite to being human; having a Facebook account. You will also need one of those friends lists full of far-flung acquaintances. Yes, yes, we all have them. A long list of vague acquaintances. Friends from that job you had five years ago and will never, in any normal circumstance, see again in your ‘real’ life.

Maybe it’s the ex-girlfriend of your second cousin. Maybe it’s your second cousin. That bloke you went to school with, who you were never friends with, but got caught up in the novelty of Facebook in its infancy, so added him anyway. The girl you met at the pub, decided was your soul sister and added her on Facebook then and there. Next morning, of course, you realised she is not your should sister; you were just drunk.

Those folks you endured a monotonously long conference with, where you all thought you’d die of tedium and therefore bonded, adding each other on Facebook so you can share your mutual announce by way of funny memes, making fun of the guest speaker.

Am sure any of you who have been on a cruise will have that couple you sat next to at dinner as a Facebook friend.

Yes, cruises. Word to the wise — don’t go on a cruise! Is like school. You’re told when you can eat and are forced to sit at a table with a bunch of people you know know. Yes, you have the option of not going to dinner. But then you’re stuck with the buffet and, if you’re anything like me, the buffet is a dangerous place if you have absolutely no willpower.


Cruises are weird. You think they are going to be so wonderful. Like you’ll be off to some exotic location when in reality you’re stuck on a moving prison, full of organised fun with the oh-so-obviously-mass-produced food. Plus, there’s that constant ringing of steel drums from the calypso band always playing at the pool who you can’t avoid because the pool is next door to the mass-produced food buffet. And, well, I obviously don’t have the willpower to prevent self from going to buffet. Even with the maddening calypso music.

(I hate steel drums. HATE them. There was a bloke playing them at the end of Millennium bridge in London and Mr Thomas literally had to prevent me from punching him out.)

So you’re on the cruise, comfort-eating, and you befriend the folks you’re forced to sit next to at dinner for the entire trip because at the end of the day they seem normal compared to the over-enthusiastic cruise directors.

If the above is familiar to you, your Facebook friends list is probably full of mere acquaintances rather than actual friends. Which makes Guess the Mutual Friend game so much fun!

You can play on your own, or with friends. Would probably make for a great drinking game. If you drink. Am not much of a drinker myself. Regardless of whether you play it with friends or alone, it’s still super fun.


How to play

Head to the ‘people you may know’ section of Facebook. Search those faces. Below, it will tell you how many mutual friends you have in common. Which might give you some clues on who your mutual friends are. Say, if there’s a large number, it might be the mutual friend of an old work. Or even your school. A smaller number might mean they are a mutual friend of a family or couple you know.

When you play this game you get to learn a lot about your Facebook friends. See, for example, I have discovered when playing this game that one of my friends and their partner are closet bicycle riders. All of the mutual friends that popped up on my feed have pictures of bicycles! WTF? Have they joined some cult?

Another un-named friend is seemingly only friends with twenty-something blondes with full-faced makeup and duck-lip poses. Creepy.

So if you find yourself bored this weekend, or perhaps you’re looking for something to pass the time while you wait patiently at the doctors surgery, or while you’re waiting in line at the next ‘it’ food truck, have a go at the Guess Your Mutual Friend game. If you find it as hilarious as I have done, and want to share with your friends, remember to hashtag #giorgethomas

That is all. Will be back shortly with the next instalment of Koolaid!

Hello lovelies! Here is the next instalment of Almost Drank the Kool-aid. Remember, if you want to hit it up from the start, you can do so by following the Kool-Aid link in the menu above.


I love reading. Was always my escape as a child. Haven’t been allowed to read. Well, not for fun. All we read was church books. The same shit over and over again. No real plot. Certainly no sex. Sometimes wish was in Christian or Mormon cult. At least would have stories to read. The problem my church had was there was no hero. You always need a hero. Jesus, now there’s a good hero. But my church? Nada. So was a bit boring, really.

Thank goodness for Mr Gruff. Today I got a package full of books! Postman could hardly lift out of his van. Wasn’t happy with me. Though that might be more to do with fact that didn’t speak to him than heaviness of package. Suspect, as a postman, he’s used to heavy boxes.

Now, while I think of it, can someone tell me what the hell is UK Mail? Is Royal Mail now UK Mail or is UK Mail different from Royal Mail like UPS and other such delivery companies? Would be terribly sad if Royal Mail no longer a thing. Another great British institution privatised. If that is case, are we to see traditional red post boxes disappear? Can’t imagine it.

Is weird coming back to a country and seeing things change. Sometimes is a good thing. Like coffee. Used to be hard to find coffee shop but now they’re everywhere. And coffee half decent! Though maybe I just got lucky with coffee bought at Heathrow and in London.

Have realised the dream I once had for self has actually come true. Back in the day all I wanted was to have small house in the country and sit by fire all day reading. Should be loving it, but of course not. Firstly, can’t get fire lit. Obviously do not have necessary talents. When arrived, Landlord had raging fire going. But I can’t even make it spark. The radiators in cottage are pitiful, really only taking chill out of air so have taken to spending entire day wrapped in duvet. I sleep fully clothed. And am starting to smell. Don’t have washer or dryer in house so have to hand-wash. But because takes clothes so long to dry in next-to-barely warm radiators, am having to wear clothes for three days before others are dry. Have internet. Have money. Would think priority would be to buy clothes. Trouble is, not quite sure what size I am any more. Tags on uniform have faded and, besides, American sizing different to sizing here. Was much smaller when I left. Maybe there is a bit of denial, too? Like, I have idea of what size I may be, but do not want to admit that to self. No, no, no, no.

But yes, have books. Have to pace self, though. Have already read one book today. If keep this up, will be done in ten days. Then what will I do?


In the next instalment…

Kool-Aid finally meets her Landlord. What kind of man will he be? Will she be able to talk about it?

Coming up…

Someone from Kool-Aid’s past catches up with her.



Like Koolaid? Then check out Giorge’s other work here.



Hi Folks! So much is about to happen here on and I am super, super excited!

I’ve been a little busy worker bee preparing everything and I hope all of you will be along for the ride.

It’s going to be a month of excitement stretching right through to the new year so if you haven’t all ready, make sure you subscribe to my blog so you’re the first to know.

For those of you who have been with me from the beginning (you know who you are) I’m so glad to have you along on this journey. I know what’s coming up is something you’ve wanted for a long time.

So spread the love my friends, and I’ll see you back here real soon with me news. Hopefully soon. I’ve actually got a few things to finish up and am off to the cricket right now which takes an entire day so looks like I’ll be working into the night again.

Love you all!!


Donate to giorge thomas


So last night I got into bed, hoping an episode of Location, Location, Location will prove to be just the right tonic for sleep to set in.

(And yes, I am well aware of the link between device activity and insomnia. Just given me a break; I’m on holiday).
The usual bed routine is mad enough. OCD sorting of pillows. Adjustment of duvet and sheet. Making sure the latter is tucked so tight my squirmy legs have no chance of moving through the night. A slather of lip balm. The preventative blowing of the nose.

All checked off. All good. But then. The horrors. Somehow, and I don’t know how, the duvet had managed to fold itself under the cover. A big fold of duvet resulting in a useless flap of duvet cover.

Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking: what’s the issue here? Sort the problem out and get back to The Kirsty and Phil Flirt Fest (because, isn’t that the only reason we all watch the show? The whole will-they-won’t they scenario? Although, if truth be told, the main reason I watch the show to get a glimpse of Kirsty’s aquamarine beauty. I love that ring. I want to marry it. Satisfaction in life will not truly happen until I own a sparkler like that. But am getting off topic…)

The issue of mushed-up duvet would not be an issue to those whose brain has a perfectly symmetrical chemical balance. Not mine. I imagine my brain as a set of old fashioned brass scales, and whatever my brain lacks, or has too much of, causes the scales to tip out of balance with the type of regularity which should o my apply to bowel movements. Or eating. The odds are definitely not in my favour.

So the shrieking high-pitched squealing escapes my mouth, alerting Mr Thomas to the fact that

a) our cat has again decided I am the enemy, and has therefore begun to attack me with growls, hisses, bites and taps to the ankle with her astonishingly strong paws

b) there is a spider within eyesight and while, in public, I act bravely in such situations and am able to cup said spider in a glass with ease, in private I become a hysterical mess.

c) there is a hair where hair shouldn’t be: on my shirt, on the floor, in the bed, or in other places I will not mention and deny at all costs


d) I am having a complete and utter breakdown of high proportions over something completely inconsequential

Ding ding ding! D is the winner, today, folks.

So Mr Thomas came in and tried his best to keep the smiling to a minimal as I explained in a pitch that was affecting every dog in the neighbourhood what the problem was.

‘The duvet… is… not… it’s folded… twisted… I can’t… it’s not…’

Somehow (and it might be due to our twelve year relationship) Mr Thomas was able to understand my predicament.

In that annoying long-armed way of his, Mr Thomas was able to flick the duvet until it righted itself; the corner of the duvet and its cover aligning to a no-ga perfection. And that was it. Problem solved. Anxiety subsided.

I know, of course, that in any other given moment I would not have been flustered by a mangled duvet, but my anxiety is already at high levels. It always is before a trip. The thought of having to pack four weeks of my life into a suitcase is positively petrifying. And while I am the queen of the To Do List, and there is nothing more satisfying than checking something off a list (I know I’m not the only one who understood Monica’s ‘check!’ Obsession in that episode of Friends: ‘The one in Barbados Part One‘) yet my issue is, and always will be: what if I don’t remember to write something into he list?

The worst thing that can happen? I forget something and have to buy it while on holiday. A very rational thought, but it can be terribly difficult to be rational when one is a sufferer from anxiety.

Like, for example, being kept up at night at the thought of having to complete every item on my To Do list. Which would take about an hour in reality and said To Do list is written in my Midori Traveler’s Notebook which I am beyond excited at being able to use on actual travels. Such irrational thoughts! And yet, they can not be abated.

The decision may have to be made to take the anti-anxiety tablets reserved for actual plane flight in the days prior, just to calm the nerves. Would prevent another duvet-related calamity, that’s for sure.

I may just do that. There’s not much else I can do about it. I will always be a sufferer of anxiety. It is what it is.

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