The Issue With This Blog

I read other blogs than my own.  Infrequently, but I do.
I read Retro Rack, which is a vintage clothing blog by a heavily bosomed author whom I completely adore.
I read World Of Ledzebra, which is a blog by one of my best friends, describing her slightly mental life with her dog Mungo and cat Nelson. And, ofc, the lesser humans.
I also read Katie's blogs, of which she has made many and posts to few.

You see, in this blog I normally fritter away word counts on things like who I'm seeing, what I had for dinner, what petty little issue that is pissing me off that day, like how Blogger has changed it's format and my ex has deleted his Facebook and oh woe is me.
You know, attention seeking crap.
That is essentially all it is.
And then I look at these other blogs and think "Fucking hell, I'm shallower than a puddle of spit."

All of the crap I spout about on this blog is pretty inconsequential.  Like the several blogs about what a complete jackass Harry was.  Describing my antics with booze.  What I try to do is document moments in my life to almost create a diary and I am very steadily realising that I am incredibly shallow, very attention seeking and don't have even the smallest bit of perspective on anything.

Which is a bit shit.

I'm going to try and decide whether or not this matters.

I think two years ago, or even last year, it would really, really have mattered to me.
The attention seeking thing still does.
However, the bit where I'm shallow, out of touch with stuff like global politics and big issues like feminism in the workplace and gay marriage rights and who to actually vote for in the upcoming local elections, it just doesn't bother me that much.
See, the me of two years ago and even last year felt she was of above average intelligence and could do whatever the hell she wanted with her life. The me of two years ago had it all sorted out in her head and was going to teach English for a few years while she wrote her first novel, sell it, make millions, marry a nice man and then give up working to procreate and collect a large wardrobe of vintage clothes and also make a difference.  Do some charity work or something, foster some extra kids, stuff like that.
But I don't even know if I'm going to uni now.
And now I'm getting a degree in Sociology, what the hell am I going to do with it?
I don't know if I want to teach.
I feel like I should be doing something really academic, or at least I though I felt like I should be doing something really academic.  But all that's been buggered over, because I'm lazy and I'm failing and I might not even get into uni, to be honest.

I'm considering ditching every last bit of even trying to be academic now.
I know I'm smart, but I have literally no motivation to do this any more.
I am so seriously considering saying fuck this shit to everything college based, working and saving for a few years and getting a loan from a bank to start a café.
It would have books along one wall and paintings along another and two floors so I could sell some clothes and some more paintings and maybe odd furniture too.
It would be somewhere quiet and cute, with that purple flower growing up the side that I don't even remember the name of now.
Wysteria or something like that.
Purple and nice smelling.

Sod it, I'm reading the style section out of the Times.

Genuine Disappointment

I got a text to my phone at lunchtime from Ellie, asking whether or not I wanted to go to town with him and his nan Ange today.
FUCK YES I WANTED TO GO.
But no.
I was at work.
I am so freaking disappointed it's a bit unreal.
I have met Ellie's nan Ange only once and immediately completely adored her.
Totally and utterly.
Bloody brilliant woman.
So being offered the opportunity to see her again and not being able to and instead having to sell people ridiculously priced garden equipment is a bit of a kick in the teeth.
Gah.
And now I have to do revision so that Ellie can come over later and so that he can eat the Rice Krispie square I have for him and then I CAN EAT MINE.
Sigh.
Bye guys <3

Luli and I are GOING TO DISNEYLAND

I get gradually more excited every time I think about it.
I am currently trying to read the brochure so I can decide whether or not it is necessary for her to read but I have to stop every couple of pages because I am just too excited.
Seriously.
I jumped up and down in my spinny chair and almost hurt myself.
SO excited.
I freaking love Disney.
It contains the vast majority of my favourite rides.
Everyone else is putting a down on this lesson (okay, yeah, technically in lesson) by talking about Frankenstein and how horrific it all is.
Whatever.
I'ma meet Donald Duck.
I'm looking at all the restaurants.
The issue is that it all costs moneys.
I have no idea how much money I'm even going to have.
I'm not allowed to spend megabucks this month so I can save up.

My mouth is getting all watery just thinking about it.
I wannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnt the foods.
Abi is now doing her online clothes shopping in lesson.
Casual.
It's not like we EVER do anything in prep now.
Nor have we ever done anything in prep.
It's a relax lesson, in my opinion.
It is for calm.

EEEEEEEEEEE!

I am so excited I think I will burst.
It is fifty nine days to go.
When I get back, I will make a big blog post about it.

There is a website called HiddenDLRP (Disneyland Resort Paris) which is SO cool, because it shows you all the stuff that the average Joe would miss.
The Hidden Mickeys are my favourite, though some are a little tenuous.

There's someone bitching in one of the posts.
I hate people like that.
Especially because he is wrong.

So funny at some bits though.
To the moon in a fart of glory!

LOGGING OUT TO SHARE THIS STUFF WITH MY MUM BYE

The First Write-It-In-My-Free Blog For AGES

I'll do some filling in for you, I haven't actually done a decent blog in ages.
A lot of bitching, as far as I can see, but nothing particularly interesting.
So maybe I'll do something good in this one.

Chris Evans is playing Layla and talking to people who play lutes.  It is clearly going to be one of those mornings.
Yes, yes I should definitely be doing my essay on Mephistopheles, if only I cared.
I'll do it eventually.
Ellie won't have done it, so I can totally blame it on him.
He managed to cover himself in Creme Egg yesterday.  It was hilarious, I took pictures and I will devote a post to it later.

What did I do last week?
I recall promising you my further adventures into adulthood.
YES.
Hanna's birthday.
Fairly hilarious evening.
I wore my only piece of REALLY vintage clothing. I have a lot of stuff that pretends to be vintage but does just look vintage.  My only piece of REAL vintage is my white dinner waistcoat. 
It is TECHNICALLY a man's waistcoat.  I could not care less.  I frequently wear men's clothing.  I am wearing men's clothing as we speak, in the form of hat, cardigan and shoes.
What makes my waistcoat REALLY cool, apart from the fact that it's a vintage dinner waistcoat, is the buttons.
The buttons are FRUIT SHAPED.
FRUIT SHAPED BUTTONS.
So exciting.
I am forever in debt to Cathy at Hepwright's who is a goddess and spent far too much of her time putting two apples and a lemon onto my waistcoat for me.
Anyway, wore the waistcoat, black blouse and cardy, green jeans and my black prom shoes, which appear to be becoming my standard going out shoes, as I am planning on wearing them to Carl's thing which is... Friday?  Oh bloody hell.  Carlos, can you give me an estimate of when it'll be finishing? I'll either need to get a night bus or get a lift home.  Ergh, organising.
Back to Hanna's thing. I am nothing if not marvellous at...  Oh my Goodness I've forgotten the word.
Ohhhhhhh.
It begins with a D.
Anyway.
I got off the subject.
I turned up at the pub in town (The Giddy Bridge, not bad) and started looking for people I knew.
About twenty seconds later I realised I was a fairly feeble woman, alone in a fairly rowdy pub.
Concerned for my welfare and despite the weather, I decided to wait outside for someone to arrive, as I was at least five minutes late and reasoned that if I was late, people must come along soon.
Specifically Hanna.
How wrong I was.
I texted both Hanna and Ellie in an effort not to be alone.
Ellie was in ASDA and on his way, so that was alright.
Hanna called me off her boyfriend's phone a few minutes later, telling me she had had what she called a "wardrobe crisis" and would be there when she could.
Five minutes later I was joined by Jess and Vince, and subsequently Domi, who I have now met and is lovely, so I added her on Facebook.
As you do.
DIGRESS.
The word was digress.
I digressed.
There we go, much better.
Anyway, we grabbed a table, Vince bought two beers at once and we waited for Hanna.
Who turned up 45 minutes late for her own party, hilariously.
Her "wardrobe crisis" was that she had decided her dress was too short and went to take it back, bought a jumpsuit to wear that wouldn't do up, and then re-bought the original dress as far as I can tell. 
It was outrageously short.
And very tight.
And could be undone with a zip that went all the way down the front.
But anyway, we all got a little tipsy, I flirted with Luke, and then Ellie and I got a little bit kicked out because he doesn't have any I.D. 
Whoops.
There's a good reason for that, but don't tell the bouncer.
We'd got into the pub before the bouncers were even out, to be fair.
It was a pretty good night though.
Apparently there are a lot of pictures of feet on Jess' camera, but because she's a numpty and chose to do the IB, she is too stressed to spend her time uploading any photos.
Something like 15 exams.
SO glad I didn't pick it.
Was apparently clever enough.
I completely disagree.
I am and will forever remain in complete awe of anyone who does the IB, as they have to put up with so much.  All the exams at the end of two years and SIX SUBJECTS.
Six.
That includes science and maths and stuff.
I'd have DIED.
I'm surprised no-one HAS.
Like this:

Like I said, forever in awe.
AND I discovered Malibu.
Malibu is gorgeous.


Apparently, people have been instructing Ellie on what to allow me to wear for Carl's party on Friday.
Unimpressed.
Will wear what I please.
TO BE FAIR I am a lot more sedate in what I wear now than I was when I was 14 or so.
For example, I used to wear neon pink shoes with neon blue hoodies.
Now I have neon pink with a fairly sedate green and a nice hat.
I fully intended on just going a little bit vintage, maybe some slag shoes, enough lipstick to blind people.
The usual.
May go a little overboard because now I feel restrained.
See, I WASN'T planning on doing anything like this:

If I could just BE Helena Bonham Carter, I'd be a happy bunny.

But now...
How quickly can a top hat be crocheted, do you suppose?
Having found a pattern, it will only take me a few hours, and so is completely achievable in the three days I have left.
Hmmmm...
Casually stick a link in so I can find it later.
How difficult would it be to attach a veil?
Hmmm...
I think I'd look delightful.
Perhaps add a parrot.
To match the parrot skirt.
How many colours CAN you get in one outfit?
I think later I will go home and experiment with this idea.
I have bright red shoes, electric blue dress.
Green tights somewhere.
Although, if I borrow Lu's mum's hot pink sandals, I can wear my bright red suit jacket.
That's a plan.
I also have yarn that makes spots.
Or yellow.
Ooooh, yellow.
A yellow top hat, blue dress, red jacket, green tights, hot pink shoes.
Excellent.
I have a plan.
I feel like this is apt vengeance.
How many colours do I not have?
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
Red jacket, orange... HAIR, yellow top hat, green tights, blue dress, pink shoes (it'll do), purple... nails and jewellery I think. 
Cracking.
The ENTIRE rainbow.
I wonder if I could persuade Ellie to take part in this revenge...
He's got braces with musical instruments on them, a couple of colourful shirts...
This is entirely possible.
Oh, this could be so much fun.

I have no idea what this is, but it sums up the concept of what I plan to wear this week.

Hula hoops!  Why didn't I think of that?

How I'm going to look after I'm done co-ordinating.

 I am acutely aware that the people next to me are laughing, possibly at me.

Which means I'm going to bitch about how it's a library, could you put your fucking sandwiches away, please?

I could make a stripey top hat to wear.
I have loads of colours of yarn.
Yellow, pink, green...
Two types of pink, actually.
Hmmm.
Hehehehehe.
I'll give you loud.
People need to learn that I see restrictions as challenges.
Stupid people.
Thinking about it, I could paint my nails in all the colours I have.
And I have a lot.
More than I have nails.
Thing is, if I get masking tape, I can put more than one colour on each.

Bloody hungry now.
I always get like this.
My whole lunch consists of an Easter Egg, because instead of doing stuff like packing my lunch this morning, I went on Facebook.
Bloody laptop.
It glitters, which is SO exciting, but because it is so exciting I want to be on it ALL the time.
Which means my stomach suffers.
And I'm not sure I'm going to be able to explain to Ellie that I need lunch off him again.
And I really can't do that or we can't have drinks on Friday.
Which I have already told him he has to pay for because I'm broke.
Which is completely true.
Think I'm going to have to persuade my mother to lend me a fiver.
I get paid the day after the party.
So very, very irritated.
I think it would be better if I got paid every two weeks.
I can make a fiver last a while, but when I have a big chunk of money it goes in minutes.
Which sucks.
I am so, SO bad at money.
Very bad.  VERY bad.
It would be a lot better for me to just get someone else to give me a daily allowance on all my moneys.
Then, I might not plan on going and getting more holes stuck in my ears and buying train tickets the second I get any money in.

25 minutes left of this free.
I am definitely not allowed to come back on Blogger after my mid-morning break.
I have an essay and coursework and so many other constructive things to be doing.
And yet, I will probably be back on here finding pictures of crochet top hats.

Or better.

Crochet. Pirate. Hat.
Sold.

Oh HELL yeah.
I am going to look SO good on Friday.
Get a giant feather.
Got distracted by crochet patterns now...


This is genius.
Not crochet, but genius.
http://www.craftster.org/forum/index.php?topic=388327.0
Oooooooooh, I want.
I particularly want the green ones.

Right, I'm leaving.  If there are any more blog posts after this yell at me, I HAVE to do work.
Also yell at me if I don't show you my top hat in progress.
LOVES. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Further Adventures Into Adulthood" and "WTF HAVE THEY DONE WITH BLOGGER??"

I will start with the blog, because I am quite angry.
Sure, they were warning me for AGES about how they were changing it and how I should be prepared.
That does not mean I like what they've done the place.
It looks scienctific.
I am not very good with scientific.
It's why my cooking always has "home-style" in front of it.
Once, a few years ago when I was ill, I was confined to the sofabed in the living room and I had Dave on.
I could not reach the remote.
So I watched whatever the hell came on and swore a lot everytime Top Gear reared it's ugly head.
Anyway, there was this nice chef programme that I have since forgotten the name of with a fella whose name also escapes me.
He made gnocchi, which for the uninitiated is essentially gooey, doughy pasta in a lump.
And he said he was making home-style gnocchi.
He explained to me, alone and adrift upon my sofabed, that there was not a special technique for making home-style, but that it was instead the abscene of any technique or finesse that made it so.
I took this very much to heart.
Excellent bloke.
Possibly Kevin.

Back later, dins. xx

I Do Not Have The Energy...

To be having a moral confusion.
It's just not possible for me right now.  I am going to leave it to everyone else and let THEM deal with it because it is so fucking hard to not say I told you so right now it's insane.
I might log on to Pinterest and post you pretty pictures that I find.

That's just upsetting.

Yeah, this is just going to be a tiny, teenage angst style post because there is so little I can be bothered with it's insane and my hands hurts and I CANNOT BE ARSED WITH ANYTHING.

I'm going to Google crochet patterns

I need to watch Mulan again.  I totally gave up on crochet.

Fuck this shit.  i'm out.

A Response

After my last posting, Ellie decided to reply to said post with a decidedly cocky retort.

That's definitely cocky.
And also wrong.
If you Google "Prince Phillip", and click the Wikipedia link, it explains to the world the titles bestowed upon said royal.

For those who cannot read it (it might be too small, I dunno) that top bit says:

Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (born Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark 10 June 1921) is the husband of Elizabeth II. He is the United Kingdom's longest-serving consort and the oldest serving spouse of a reigning British monarch.

I would say that THAT RIGHT THERE says he's a prince.
Now I realise that Wikipedia is not necessarily a reputable source.
Therefore.

Now, that's DEFINITELY not going to be readable, and therefore I shall again copy and paste and even provide you with a link.

Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth and Baron Greenwich, was born Prince of Greece and Denmark in Corfu on 10 June 1921.

So yes.
What's that now?
Oh, I believe that's two-nil.

-gracious bow, followed by exit-