I’m Blogging on a Friday Night

I’m Blogging on a Friday Night

Okay. So blogging on a Friday night doesn’t sound that fun BUT I have had a few glasses of wine and I have no idea what this blog is going to be about – I’m letting my hair down (very figuratively) and going rogue. It’s wild.

One thing I thought I’d write about is friendship. I was going to have the title “A Good Friend Is…” and then the blog would be a big list of all the traits of a good friend. It would have had stuff like they give it to you straight and you don’t want to kill them. Or you want to kill them but you can tell them you want to kill them and then you can have a laugh about it. Or they laugh at your outfit choices. Or they tally up the amount of favours you owe them. Or they’ll get drunk with you if you need it. Or they’ll stay in with you if you need it. They know your mum. They tell you that they prefer your mum over you. A good friend is sort of like having a partner but without the sexual attraction. Like, you could probably marry your best friend if you fancied them. Sometimes, you wish you did fancy them. That would make life easy. They’re always on your side – even when it seems like they’re not.

So yeah, it was going to be stuff like that. BUT THEN I thought I’d write about Nina Stibbe. I LOVE HER. Like, I actually really properly think I love her. She’s written four books and I love them all. One of the books was made into a TV show and I love that. I listened to a podcast with her in it this morning and she was warm, funny, intelligent, and NICE. I know some people hate the word “nice”, but it’s TOTALLY underrated. I love nice people – well, just as long as they have a bit of edge. Or not an edge – just something genuine, if that makes sense? But anyway, back to Nina. She’s had a reallly quirky childhood and I think that’s why I relate to all her stories so much. Her parents are totally fucking mental – like mine. If we met, we’d probably have a real good bond over our mental childhoods.

So then I thought I’d write about parents. The different parents you get. The different ways we can all be screwed up – or the different ways we can all turn out great, I suppose. But urgh, that all gets a bit grey, doesn’t it? And who really cares about the kinds of parents there are? I really just wanted to write about the time my dad tried to convince me that getting high would help me get an A in my English Higher.

Then I thought I’d write about Christmas. About how people tend to get a bit nuts at Christmas. But meh. I’m not ready to write about Christmas yet. IT’S TOO STRESSFUL. Not only do I not know what I want to get people, but I don’t know what they should get me. It’s SUCH a hard life.

Then I thought I’d just start writing and see what happened.

And then this happened.

Being 24 (And Why It’s Awesome)

Being 24 (And Why It’s Awesome)

MIND FUCK: 24 was the age all the characters in Friends were when the show started and that’s the age I am now (and have been for a wee while). WHAAAAAAT?

They were so grown up. They had sex, jobs, some money, apartments, relationships, annoying parents, and all sorts of grown up things. They were my idols. Their lives looked incredible. They were 24. And now I’m 24. Yikes.

But it’s a good age, isn’t it? I think it is. Here’s why:

Jobs

People who are 24 tend to have a job. Studying (URGH) is no longer required. You can go home at 6 and you can switch off — if you want. Because you can stay switched on if you like your job. Either way, you win. Love your job? You’re getting paid to have fun. Hate your job? You still have actual proper guilt-free free time. Also, at 24, you don’t have to feel guilty if you’re not doing your “dream job”. There’s still time.

Friends

Gone are the days when you have to be friends with absolute dicks because not having friends looks super uncool. You’re only friends with people you genuinely really like and care about. To be fair, they’re probably a bit dickish too. But dickish in a good way. They call you up on bullshit and keep you on your toes. And you can also be dickish. They forgive you when you make a drunken moron of yourself or don’t text them back for ages or bail on events because you can’t be assed or WHATEVER. You love them and they love you – annoying warts and all. See Peter’s Friends for reference.

Self-esteem

So you’re definitely not as self-conscious as you were when you were in your teens. And you’ve sort of come to the realisation that being yourself is alright. You do the things that you think are fun and that’s that. And instead of telling people lies so they like you, you tell them the truth. Although, don’t get me wrong, you probably still hate yourself pretty much 78% of the time, but it’s definitely not as bad as those teen years. Ugh, weren’t they the worst?

FREEEEEEEDOM

I actually don’t want to limit freedom to just being 24/in your twenties. Being free is certainly a lot easier in your twenties, but you have to be free whatever your age. You should always be able to change your mind. Don’t like a job you’ve been doing for 20 years? GET OUT. Don’t want to be married anymore? GET OUT. Had enough of being a parent? Sorry, that one you’re stuck with.

You’re the perfect mix of kid/adult

YOU HAVE THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS. You don’t have to do what your parents say anymore, but you can still ask them for help.  It’s acceptable to stay in and watch Masterchef every night, but it’s acceptable to go out and get drunk. If you can’t remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal or changed your bed sheets or got 8 hours sleep, people still treat you like an adult! It’s jammy, jammy, jammy.

Money

My dad calls my boyfriend and I “TINKs”. Two incomes, no kids. It’s good, isn’t it? While we both have jobs, neither of us have any responsibilities. I mean, we probably should start saving for the “future”, but it’s a lot more fun eating out, drinking, and going on holidays and things. And it’s not like we don’t have a savings account. We have one, we’re just always taking money out of it. Because we can.

I think there are more good things about being in your twenties, but since I’m in my twenties, I drank a lot over the weekend and I’m sort of dying a little and I really want a crisp sandwich and a Pixar film. Yeah, I’m just going to just end this blog here.

 

101 Thoughts I Have Sometimes

101 Thoughts I Have Sometimes

  1. Am I bad feminist?
  2. Are they stretch marks or heat rash?
  3. I should really shave my legs.
  4. I’m horny.
  5. I’m not horny.
  6. Why do I feel so anxious?
  7. What did they mean when they said that?
  8. I’m going to be fired.
  9. I can’t wait to take my bra off.
  10. I’ll just snooze for five more minutes.
  11. They are so annoying.
  12. Please don’t sit next to me.
  13. I can’t believe they sat next to me.
  14. I just want to get drunk.
  15. I’m going on a diet and I’m joining a gym.
  16. Did someone say crisps?
  17. I’m hungry. I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry.
  18. This day is dragging.
  19. This day is going too quickly.
  20. Is is too early to have a glass of wine?
  21. I think my friends hate me.
  22. I should really get out more.
  23. OMG I’VE GOT LEG CRAMP.
  24. Does Kate Middleton poop?
  25. My resting face is HIDEOUS.
  26. I don’t know what I’ll do when Emma Thompson dies.
  27. What actually is deja vu?
  28. Has missing that bus just changed the entire course of my life?
  29. Gwyneth Paltrow suits short hair.
  30. Is that my feet that smell?
  31. I’m not going to have any seconds.
  32. Okay, I’ll have seconds but I’m not going to have any thirds.
  33. It’s not a third if I’m literally eating one chip and a tiny piece of chicken.
  34. I’m so full. I’m never eating again.
  35. How are they so smart?
  36. She is so beautiful.
  37. Her eye liner is PERFECTION.
  38. I’m going to watch an eye liner tutorial when I get home.
  39. She is so skinny.
  40. I’ll just read to the end of this chapter.
  41. OMG I NEED TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT.
  42. Will I ever finish my novel?
  43. Is there any point finishing it if it’s total crap?
  44. Whatever happens, I’m getting drunk when I finish it.
  45. I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by watching someone type.
  46. It can’t be natural for two people to spend the rest of their lives together, can it?
  47. I wonder what a G spot orgasm feels like.
  48. Maybe I should get a G spot vibrator.
  49. Are G spot orgasms the same as vaginal orgasms?
  50. Is it true that it becomes easier to have one of these the older you get?
  51. That’s something to look forward to.
  52. I am way out of my depth here.
  53. Does anyone know that I’m a total imposter?
  54. I miss the country.
  55. I hate people.
  56. I just want to lock myself away for a whole month and not speak to anyone.
  57. Apart from my boyfriend. He can stay.
  58. OMG I JUST SWALLOWED A BUG.
  59. Why can’t everyone just get along?
  60. The news is so depressing.
  61. I HATE Donald Trump.
  62. Does his wife really have to have sex with him?
  63. Ew.
  64. I’m going to go to Lakeland at the weekend and buy grown up kitchen things.
  65. I want a baby.
  66. I wonder what my children will look like.
  67. Will I actually be able to raise humans?
  68. All Dad wanted for his children was to be thick and happy.
  69. That’s actually a good aspiration.
  70. Where even is Dad? Canada? Spain?
  71. I wonder what retirement is like.
  72. I hope I do something good with my life.
  73. Does anyone die without any regrets?
  74. Life is really weird.
  75. I DON’T WANT TO DIE.
  76. Why is cheese so damn TASTY?
  77. I love my bike.
  78. The words I am saying right now don’t make any sense put together.
  79. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
  80. Ooh a Buzzfeed Disney princess quiz!
  81. Politics are really hard to understand.
  82. I don’t understand money.
  83. How can we trust what anyone says?
  84. I’m so stupid.
  85. I need to improve my vocabulary.
  86. Aardvark. An African ant-eating mammal.
  87. Sometimes I wish I smoked.
  88. My cheek bones have no definition.
  89. Why am I imagining having sex with this person who I’m not even attracted to?
  90. What would it be like to put my foot on the accelerator and not take it off?
  91. I really hope I don’t drop this baby.
  92. I don’t ever want to go to a mental institution.
  93. What if I totally thought I was sane, but I was actually crazy?
  94. OR what if I was sane, but everyone was trying to convince me I was crazy?
  95. What even is “normal”?
  96. I wish I could be invisible.
  97. I don’t think I’d like to be telepathic. That could be dangerous.
  98. It would be so easy to steal this eye liner.
  99. I love rain.
  100. I don’t want that person to die.
  101. Mmm…butter.
Things That Fill Me Up With Pure, Unadulterated RAGE

Things That Fill Me Up With Pure, Unadulterated RAGE

People walking slowly:

WHY are some most people so unaware of the space around them? They just dawdle along completely oblivious to you RIGHT behind them, trying your hardest to get passed. Because that’s another thing – they dawdle along IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PAVEMENT. And whenever you try and pass them on either side, they dawdle sideways and block your way. Fuckers.

People walking too quickly:

This one’s a bitch too. Sometimes you just want to dawdle, take in the sights, breathe the summer air, listen to the birds but you CAN’T because some most people are too busy rushing through life and getting all impatient and huffy right on your heels. People need to learn to CHILL.

Space hoggers:

People who get on buses, planes, and trains and take up your seat space. People coming towards you on the pavement who refuse to move. People who put theirs bags and/or coats on the chair next to them in the hairdressers/doctors. People who think they’ve got a God-given right to more space in the world than others. MOVE THE FUCK OVER.

People (excluding my mum, boss, or some sort of instructor/mentor) who try and tell me what to do:

I won’t listen. And if I do, I’ll do the opposite of what you say. I can’t help it.

Vicious gossip:

We all gossip. It’s a natural part of being a human and I think that most of the time we gossip about people we actually care about. We like talking about them. We like worrying about them. We like them. But then there’s that other kind of gossip. The vicious kind. The kind where people discuss someone they don’t even know and get pleasure out of making fun of them. JUST STOP.

Queue jumpers:

GET BACK IN LINE BITCH.

Judgy McJudgersons:

Ugh. People who make other people feel this small for doing something that isn’t harming anyone. Like eating pizza with mayonnaise or wearing clothes that don’t match or the way you walk or your accent or your hair or your tattoo or what you have for lunch or the shoes you wear or basically anything that ISN’T HARMING ANYONE. Just leave the poor people alone and let them do their thing!

Scotrail:

The most pathetic excuse for a train company in the world, and big stealing bastards. Their tickets are EXTORTIONATE and you NEVER get a seat! You just curl up in the bike rack and try and eat your £3.00 meal deal in peace. Is it really so difficult for them to put out seat reservations?! EVERY OTHER TRAIN COMPANY IN THE WORLD CAN DO IT. Incompetence, thy name is SCOTRAIL.

People who talk about being on a diet while you’re eating a crisp sandwich:

KJSDHFKLSHSDJFHEWHBFKJHSBKJHSDBFKHJBSRGKJHBSRLJGSJRBGJSHGGVKHDFJVBLAKJNFVLKAJBVLKAJFNVLKJDNFVLKJNSLKJVNLKJNLKERNVLKJNFVKLJNSFDLKJBNSLKDFJNVLKSJDFNVLKJSDNFLKJNBLKSDJFNLKJSNDFLKJNSDLKFJNLKAEJRFLKJAERNGLKJENRFKLJAERLKGJNALKJGNLKANLKJERNVLAKJFNVKLJSNDFLKJBNSLKFJNVLKSDJRNVLKJDFNVKLJSDNFLKJVNDLFKJBNVKDFJNBVKADJFNSBKJDNSFKJRAGSJTBNSKDJFNGKLRJSGNBLKJFSNBLKJSNFLKGBJNGRSLKTJGNRSGIAREGKJADRNKGJNSELRKJGNKALEJRNGAEKJDFJNALKRJNRGLKAJGLKJANRGLKJAENRKGJHAERGHAKERGIERUHGIUAEHRG.

People who don’t order anything to eat and then want to eat your food:

I’ve started telling these people outright that under no circumstances are they getting any of my food. They usually look pretty shocked. I think they’re quite horrified about how selfish I’m being, but like Joey, JOSIE DOESN’T SHARE FOOD. It’s a flaw, I’m not working on it, get over it.

Oh yeah, people who just want to order a big selection of Chinese food and share it all:

No.

People who look at what I’m eating and say “ew”:

That’s rude, isn’t it? It feels rude. 

Passive-aggressive monkeys:

If you’ve got something to say, either say it outright or don’t say it at all. Being passive-aggressive is a sure way to get me NOT to do what you want.

Bad manipulators:

Please do it better. I’m much happier when I have no idea I’m being manipulated.

People who are horrible to their mum:

She gave BIRTH to you, fed you from her breast (maybe), answered your every needy whim, ALWAYS put you before herself, clothed you, educated you, loved you when no one else would so STOP taking her for granted and treating her like she’s a moron. You’re the moron.

 

MY GOD THAT FELT GOOD.

 

 

Psychopaths, Bikes, and Soup

Psychopaths, Bikes, and Soup

Yep, that’s pretty much been my life for the last couple of weeks. I’ve been having a LOT of soup in a desperate attempt to rid my body of the excess fat it’s gained. What the hell happens to bodies in their 20s?!?!?! I used to be able to eat WHATEVER I wanted, but now the weight is just piling on! I mean, it’s probably all the sausage suppers. And the crisps. But no, my point is that I used to eat all the sausage suppers and crisps in the world and it made no difference to my weight.

img_0872
Storm Doris. And my legs. 

Getting older sucks, doesn’t it? Is it really just downhill from here?

The thing is, I know it isn’t. I think your body goes, you get wrinkles, there’s fat on your thighs THAT JUST WON’T BUDGE, but emotionally you probably get better as you get older, don’t you? Like, you’d become more confident in yourself and stuff? You don’t care so much about what people think about you.

I’m sorry. I have a feeling this is going to be a crap, rambling post. I blame P.M.T.

Speaking of the menstrual cycle, I just downloaded a period tracker app for my phone. It feels a bit suffocating to be honest. My next period’s just blaring out of the calendar in dark red numbers. It’s like it’s mocking me. If it could talk it would say, “I’m coming for you, you can’t hide from me, I will find you and I WILL destroy you”. It’s basically Slapsgiving. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is: Slapsgiving.

I just read The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson. I enjoyed it, although I got a bit worried that I was a psychopath. Well, it’s sort of strange because I wasn’t worrying that I was a psychopath, but then there was a passage that went, ‘Oh by the way, if you’re worrying that you might be a psychopath then that means that you are definitely NOT a psychopath’ so then I thought Shit, I haven’t been worrying that I’m a psychopath so does that mean  that I actually am one?!?!?!?!?!?! But then I calmed down. It’s weird. I’m the kind of person who’ll read symptoms and then be like, “YES THAT’S SO ME”. Like I’m listening to ‘The Guilty Feminist’ at the minute and I finally feel like I know what I am (although deep down I know I’m actually just guilty). But with psychopaths, I haven’t been able to relate at all. I know – it’s crazy, isn’t it?! And you know why I can’t relate? Amygdala. Psychopaths don’t have enough of this chemical and anxious people have TOO much of it. So that’s nice, isn’t it?

Every cloud.

img_0816
Psychopaths and Weetos.

Oh and speaking of ‘The Guilty Feminist’, I would just like to point out that I don’t MIND my extra weight…I’m totally comfortable with my body shape.

OKAY YOU GOT ME I HATE IT. I JUST WISH I COULD EAT ALL THE FOOD AND BE A SIZE 8 AT THE SAME TIME. AND BE TALLER. AND HAVE EYES THE SAME COLOUR. AND SMALLER CANKLES.

God, I am a TERRIBLE feminist. I told you I was just guilty! I guess the point is that I KNOW I should be okay with my shape and I’m working on it. I mean, there are some benefits to being a bit bigger. No one can give me birthday bumps anymore.

That’s nice.

Bikes. Bikes. Bikes. Bikes. The greatest thing to have happened to me since sliced bread and full fat butter. Bikes! Having a bike has been SO good. I love it. I feel like I’m ten years old again (well, apart from when I have to go up steep hills). Cycling to work puts me in such a good mood in the morning!  And now I have a BASKET. I don’t really have anything to put in my basket though. I normally just throw an extra scarf in there or something. And lip balm.

I’m going to go and check on my bike now.

 

SANTA’S COMING!!!!!!!!

SANTA’S COMING!!!!!!!!

Merry Christmas Eve, folks!

Man, I think this is the most excited I’ve been for Christmas EVER! It’s for a number of reasons, really. I’m off work for 10 WHOLE DAYS, family are coming over from Holland (Barbara sure gave them a rough time on the ferry last night), and old family friends are joining us tomorrow for Christmas celebrations. OH and I’ve also brought home the best board-game in the world: Cranium. I’m going to wrap it up and put it under the tree so it looks like I’ve got my family quite a lot of presents, but it’s really just a present for myself. Everyone in my family hates board-games, but when it’s Christmas they HAVE to play with me. MWHAHAHAHA.

Mum’s stewing the ham right now. When I got up this morning it looked like little cooking elves had been working in the kitchen all night. There was food everywhere, recipes sprawled across the kitchen table, sausages defrosting in the sink…it was a lovely sight to wake up to. Then Mum came hobbling into the kitchen, all frizzy hair and crazy eyes, and said that she’d been up since four in the morning planning.

I feel kind of bad. For about two months now I’ve been telling Mum that I can totally help with all the cooking, but so far since I’ve been home, I’ve just been looking at all my old childhood books and getting emotional. It’s only ten, though. There’s still time to help. Although deep down I know I will just end up watching Christmas cooking programmes and getting hungry.

I’m the worst.

SO. Last night on the way home, we stopped off at Kinross services for a toilet and coffee break and GUESS WHO WE SAW?!?!?!?! BLOODY TILDA SWINTON!!!!!!! It. Was. Insane. I always thought that if I was ever to see a proper famous person that I would totally play it cool, but that did not happen. I couldn’t stop staring at her. And I wanted nothing more than to go and congratulate her for her role in About a Boy. Then the BF then told me that that the woman in About a Boy was in actual fact NOT Tilda Swinton. I’m so lucky I’ve got him — he’s stopped me from entering many an embarrassing situation.

We’re at Mum’s for Christmas this year. We were at Dad’s last year and it was…an experience. I arrived at his on Christmas morning to find him, my brother, and my sort of brother DRUNK OUT OF THEIR MINDS, and the Christmas turkey upside down in the oven. I have since heard, however, that putting a turkey upside down in the oven helps it stay nice and moist. And you know what? It was a particularly delicious turkey that year. I felt sorry for my brother. He’s a vegetarian and my Dad doesn’t really have time for that sort of thing so he just got stuck eating a bunch broccoli and Brussels sprouts. He couldn’t even have any potatoes or gravy because they were cooked with or in animal fat. My brother’s a nice laid-back chap though. He didn’t mind too much.

Uh oh, me Mam’s needing help with the spuds. Better run.

I can already feel the finger cramp.

 

 

Hands Up Who Loves The Weekend!

Hands Up Who Loves The Weekend!

Hello Party People!

I’m in a pub just now. With the boyfriend (who’s watching the football). This is the third day in a row we’ve been to this pub. It’s really lovely. Dark and dingy and down some steps so it’s kind of hidden away. And the people who come here seem nice, although I haven’t had much to do with them. There was one old man who hoped I wasn’t going to put sugar in my tea.

I liked him.

So. It’s November (17th? 18th? 19th?), and its starting to feel a little bit Christmassy. We put on some Christmas tunes at work the other day and although it felt too early, it was quite nice. But then everyone got really busy and stressed and sort of forgot about the music. It was a truly manic day yesterday, which was why when I passed the pub last night I thought, Gosh darn it I really need a wee glass of wine. 

And so I did.

The boyfriend joined me. And then our flat-mate came along too. We all got suitably tipsy. My flat-mate’s a bit stressed about life just now. I tried to reassure her by singing Taylor Swift’s song ’22’, but I’m not sure how much it helped. Then I got sad because I realised I’m going to be 24 in a few months and SHE had to reassure ME that that wasn’t old. Which I know, but we all like to complain about stuff that doesn’t really warrant any complaints, don’t we?

Please say you do.

I woke up really early today. Sods Law. You spend the whole working week DREAMING of a lie in and then when the weekend actually comes you’re wide awake at 7.00am. I don’t really mind though. I actually love getting up and watching tv in the living room on a Saturday morning. I especially love watching Rick Stein. He uses so much salt and olive oil in his food!

Ok, Arsenal are losing so we’re thinking about going into town and starting our Christmas shopping.

Sigh.