Happy Jesus Zombie Day!

Well, I’m aware I’m a bit late on the Happy Easter thing. But I’ve been moving back to my university house and doing coursework (4am, drunk in the library) so I can be let off!

So over the Easter holidays, I’ve been back staying with my parents. I have little brothers and as everyone knows, kids come out with some of the best lines. A couple of days ago I got:

You’re very heavy aren’t you? Even Spiderman can’t lift you!

Well thank you, I’m aware I’ve gained a little chocolate weight -_-

Over Easter, I also received my souvenir photo from Miranda Hart! Still cannot believe I ended up on stage with her! Massive love ❤

I LOVE HER.

I LOVE HER.

I want her to be my BFF.

That boy in the picture with me who was my “date.” That is not wine in his wine glass. No sir, it is coke. Poor guy was only 16 aha. We had a list of questions about our most embarrassing moments. His was, “I got drunk and woke up in a bath. But please don’t say that on stage, my mum will kill me!” Bless.

I’m sure everyone’s also seen about Britain’s youngest parents! 12 years old!!! Can’t even be called a teenage mum! Children having children. How weird. I was thinking about this on one of my very boring shifts at work. When I was 12 the only thing I was looking after was sea monkeys. And I purposefully stopped feeding them because they got boring and just wouldn’t die.

And now I’m back at uni. Exams start next week, but I have managed to get me a job behind the bar and brought myself a celebratory hammock. Hurrah!

Oh, such a bad, bad day.

Today has been a disgustingly long and very bad day. And it started at 8am. I should’ve known I was doomed from the start. I don’t do early morning starts. But it started so well! I didn’t even press snooze on my alarm… I was even 5 minutes early to my tutorial! And then things went downhill…

My tutor is not an interesting man. And my attention span is not great when it comes to boring people. I end up noticing things. Picking up on annoying habits instead of actually listening. And what I noticed was that my tutor says the same word over and over again. “Obviously.” Even when it is obviously (teehee) not relevant or even grammatically correct. And there is nothing I hate more than bad grammar! So I played a little game. I counted how many times he said it.

62 times in half an hour. 62 TIMES!!!!

Every time he used it incorrectly (62 effing times), I felt a little blow to my soul. So already, by 9.30, my mood was going downhill.

So, I went home, revised for hours (AKA watched 10 episodes of How I Met Your Mother) and decided to tidy my room. I thought I’d put a wash on, running low on clothes and all that. Bad idea. Now I have even less clothes. THE WASHING MACHINE DOOR BROKE AND MY CLOTHES ARE STILL STUCK IN THE MACHINE D: We tried putting it on spin, tried kicking it, even tried prising it open with a knife. No such luck. So now I have slowly moulding clothes stuck where I can see them but cannot wear them! The landlord better hurry up and get round here.

Then to make matters worse I went to the library. Already a pretty risky move. I needed to print some stuff off and I was 4 pence short. So I tried topping up my university card using my debit card. Surprise, surprise the website was down so I couldn’t. So then I thought I would change up my £5 note into 50ps. That machine was also not working. I went to the front desk. They were “cashless” and so could also not change my money. So I had to leave, go to the shop, buy a muffin, get some change, go back to the library and finally top my card up. I then attempted to print my work. THE PRINTER DIDN’T BLOODY WORK! It took my money but didn’t print my stuff off. So I had to go to another printer, spend more money, finally printed my work to find out… wait… I don’t actually need this. Half a fricking hour. 

After all this I decided to limp home in the rain (limp because of an injury, not because I fancied it). Then… hang on… my foot started to feel really wet. I looked down. Oh my dear baby Jesus. The sole of my favourite boot had come apart from the shoe. My big toe was hanging out the front. How did this happen?! Why did this happen?! Why does God hate me?!

And then, to top it all off, I realised that I also could no longer go to a party I was very much looking forward to going to. I was going to dress up as a hobbit. Hairy feet and all 😦

Seal Dancing and Tumble Drying

I am pleased to say that I am fully embracing student life again. Yesterday, I made a clothes line using the cord on my blinds and my pin board. Today, I blow-dried my clothes with my hair-dryer. We have a shit tumble dryer that keeps beeping at me and telling me to “empty the water.” I HAVE!!! Anyway, the one guy in our house that might be able to fix it was out so I had the choice. Go kickboxing in wet clothes or whack out the hair dryer for half an hour. In all fairness, after 15 minutes of the warm up I would be soaking wet and drenched with sweat anyway but I didn’t want people to think that I was so unfit that the walk was making me sweaty so I opted for the latter.

It’s crazy. I still feel far too immature to be renting a house. A house! Just the other day, I was crying with laughter because my housemate was doing a “seal dance.” This basically involved lying on the floor/ on top of my other housemate and wiggling, whilst making seal noises. She’s going to be twenty in two days. When I was a kid, twenty seemed adult. It seemed mature and grown up and old. I feel none of these. I feel the same as I did 5 years ago when I was doing my GCSE’s, just slightly more confident and slightly taller and slightly blinder. But I still don’t feel mature. I don’t feel much different.

But, I guess, when I really think about it, a lot has changed. I am more confident, even this last year I can feel it growing. I’ve lost that crippling shyness I had as a kid, the same one that made me hate secondary school in the beginning. The same one that led to me not having many friends when I first arrived. Relationships have also changed, moved on, gotten stronger. You realise who your true friends are when you leave your hometown. You realise who you actually care for and who you actually miss. Sometimes it is really hard. Sometimes missing them makes you almost wish you never left. But you have to, or how else will you get anywhere in life? And, against all odds I can actually cope living on my own- surprisingly well. Even better so this year, now I can actually cook slightly more meals than frozen pizza and spaghetti bolognese. And I can improvise… I might have a shit tumble dryer, but my hair dryer is Nicky Clarke 😉

I’m BACK!

I have been very naughty recently and haven’t blogged in aaaages, probably losing myself a number of followers, but strangely, getting more views…

Please don’t leave me, please, I’m really sorry I won’t do it again, I’ll be better next time!

Anyway, I’ve had a bit of a writer’s block. Still do as a matter of fact, so I apologise in advance for an incredibly boring first post back. Some might assume I’ve been on terribly exciting bear hunts or trekking through the Amazon or travelling to some far-away, exotic land. Surely the only excuses not to blog, right?

Wrong.

I’ve been stuck at home, watching The Big Bang Theory (my new Glee) and working. I’ve been working 7 days straight and still have 3 more to go before I get 1 day off. Exciting yes? I did get called a wanker at work however, which really made me remember how much I love my job and how much I adore people. Gosh, remind me why I chose to work with animals instead?

And I swear to God, I always end up serving the dumb-asses of my town at work as well! One woman asked me, in all seriousness, whether she could use her card in the cash machine. 

Y U NO HAVE COMMON SENSE!?

Apart from feeling suicidal from work, I stole my mum’s copy of Fifty Shades of Grey to get down with the crowds and start reading it. Obviously skipped to the naughty bits because I’m kinky to see what all the fuss is about. I’m actually a little scarred for life and I quietly put the book back in my mum’s room. I don’t think I can read it all the way through knowing that my mum loves them. It just makes me feel a little sick.

And now I’m going to kill a fly that is noisy and annoying. BAI.

It just doesn’t make sense!?

There are some things in life that don’t make sense.

This is one of them…

Da Fuck?

So, as well as having superhuman looks, superhuman wit and general superhuman amazing-ness, I also have superhuman strength.

I can break metal bitchez so don’t be messing wit’ me.

Why do we say a “pair of pants” when it’s just one… shouldn’t it be just a “pant”?

Why can Jack Black only play one character in any movie he’s in?

Why are sequels always worse than the original?

*With the exception of Bad Boys 2 ❤

Why do I still find Johnny Depp attractive as a murdering barber with a white streak in his hair?

Why are different religions so adamant that their own one is the true one?

Why are the dinosaurs not in the Bible!?

Why am I so ashamed to have Westlife in my iPod?

Why do the more followers, the more posts and the more tags I use lead to less and less views? God damnit. Stop. Obsessing. Over. Stats.

* But I love all of you who do read my blog 😀

Why do I think my dancing is sexy and provocative when all it does is make people run away in embarrassment?

Why do people let me drink alcohol?

Why am I a muggle? 😦

These are some of life’s big questions that I’ve been struggling with.

As you might be able to tell, I don’t get out much.

Reasons behind a twisted mind.

I’ve decided to have a long, hard and incredibly deep (ooh cheeky) look at myself with the ultimate aim to work out why others might perceive me as amazing weird. And thinking about it, I really don’t know how I haven’t had to have therapy yet.

Oh wait…

For starters, I blame my mum for my sick sense of humour and lack of compassion. As you might have read from my previous posts, I am a constant source of amusement for her as she relishes in my- all to frequent- pain. She abuses me. Not the regular sort of beating me up abuse (although she is quite violent and has a nasty pinch on her) but the sort of playground bully abuse. The sort of, kick you when your down abuse. One of my first memories was of when I was three. I had this standard, red, plastic chair. One day, I decided I would quite like to see if I could fit my whole body underneath the arm of the chair. Well, to cut a short story even shorter… I couldn’t. I got my head and one arm stuck. I cried out for my mum,

“HELP, HELP, I’M STUCK IN THE CHAIR!”

My mum came rushing towards me, I was her first born child, stuck, oh God, what if I was stuck forever? She was hurrying over, quickly, quickly and… ooop… she went straight past me… straight to the telephone… where she called her mum to laugh. LAUGH!?!? I was stuck in a chair as a toddler and rather than help me get free, she laughed. It was only until my Nan reminded her that I was still stuck that she bothered to phone my dad to get him to come home from work and saw me out.

And I blame her for passing this trait onto me. I realised what she had done when I was at this rugby match. There was this old man sat on his fold-out chair close to the sideline. In hindsight a little too close really as one of the big rugby lads missed a tackle and ended up tackling the old man off of his chair instead. I thought I was going to die with laughter. I am ashamed. And I blame my mother.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that my complete crapness with men is because I’m scarred for life after a serious of weird and terrifying experiences with creeps. There was this one particular man who genuinely used to scare the shit out of me. He was this little, beardy Asian man in a hat who used to always pop up wherever I would be. He’d shout at me, blow kisses at me, wink at me, pretend to hide from me then continue following me down the street. And then one time… one horrific time… he snuck up behind me- my so called “friends” being the bastards that they are, decided not to tell me- and put his head on my shoulder (!) and, whilst sniffing my hair groaned…

“HHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM”

Oh my dear Baby Jesus.

Needless to say, I ran. As fast and as far away as I could in HMV. With my “friends” crying with laughter behind me.

So I’m blaming this inability to trust, this paranoia, this analysing and reading too much into every situation involving a male on these freaks that used to follow me around. Either that, or it’s just because I’m a woman.

New Years Resolutions… Hmm…

Right, my New Years Resolution is to get fit and healthy (I’ve been watching too much Olympics- I want one of them medals). Okay, it’s a little lot past New Year but you know what they say… better late than never!

So, here are my aims for the rest of the year:

1) Drive more. I know people always go on about how good walking is for you, but people forget about how good driving is for you too! Not only do you get everywhere quicker but you also have to use your feet a lot. That means you will have really strong feet, which is always great and incredibly useful.

2) Have a baby. Well, I don’t want one. I have a little brother, so I’ll just use him instead. But for everyone else without a little sibling or a child ready to hand, go have a kid, guaranteed weight loss or your money back. Especially if you feed them a lot and make ’em chubs. Swear down picking my little brother up is better than weight lifting.

3) Go out partying more. Not only are you dancing- very, very good exercise, especially if you move your whole body (which I do, despite the funny looks)- but, if you walk home, you also walk twice the distance because you walk diagonally and end up criss-crossing across the street. Isn’t alcohol great!? (let’s just conveniently forget about the whole liver damage fairytale)

4) Be hungover more. You’ll feel too sick to eat so you’ll lose weight. And hopefully have had a really good night out before. Win win!

5) Go shopping more. Who needs to spend money going to the gym when you can spend it going on a shopping trip and get just as fit with the added bonus of a new wardrobe? Make sure you buy loads though, because carrying all those bags around is excellent for those arms. And walking from shop to shop will also increase that stamina- after a few shopping trips, you’ll definitely find it gets easier! And if you don’t have the money to go shopping, that’s fine. I’m not saying steal money from your parents but… steal money from your parents. I’m sure they’d rather you spend their money than get so fat you can’t leave your bed and die. That’s what you should say if you get caught.

Might quit uni and become a personal trainer.