This is my blape to Maddy while she is gone- I love you :)

A Hint To The Crush I've Got Going

My Girlfriend Resume:

• Not a fussy eater. KFC works as well for me as Bella Italia does. Sometimes better.
• I have no social life. I would basically be available all the damn time.
• I have an essentially male personality, making me pretty easy to get on with. Chances are if you're checking out that fit girl, I will be too.
• I have curves. They're pretty awesome. I normally show them off too.
• I don't expect a man to come shopping with me. I actually prefer it if you don't.
• I carry my own damn bags.
• I can hold an intellectual conversation.
• Parents do not frighten me.
• I don't spend hours in the bathroom. I have currently got my normal time down to twenty minutes, including shower.
• I'm pretty damn excellent in the sack. (Just saying)
• I am very relaxed about you having crushes on other people during our relationship. We're human. We're allowed to check other people out. Providing nothing happens, there's no problem there.
• I'm a very cheap date. One bottle of lager (though I prefer cider) can get me a bit tipsy.
• DEFINITELY not a shrinking violet, which means I stand up for myself. Yes, it's lovely to have some manpower behind me, but my tongue muscle is in good shape, tah.
• I don't go psycho if you have female friends. You're allowed. The majority of my mates are male.
• I'm not expecting to be spoiled. I kind of prefer it when I'm not, really. I pay my own way where I'm going or I don't go. Unless you insist. But expect to be treated back once I have the money.
• I don't smoke. Literally nothing.
• I'm stupidly enthusiastic.
• I can be made happy by something as simple as a Kinder Egg. Big things are all well and good, but the little ones are what make my days.
• My music taste ranges from Dolly Parton to Stiff Little Fingers. There will be something we can listen to together.
• I'm confidant. I don't get knocked down by jibes often. You can call me fatty, shorty, ginger, thicko, whore, slut, slag, bitchface, and pretty much anything else.
• I'm laid back almost as far as to be laid down. There are only a couple of things I will not tolerate. These are:
  • Violence
  • The words “retard” or “spastic”
  • Not liking my best friend (It's okay, she's amazing. She just takes a little getting used to.)
  • Using Autism in any derogatory way at all.

Everything else is kind of okay.

• I'm not bothered by how you present yourself. So long as you don't smell and you wash frequently, I really don't care.
• There are two things that scare me – Feet and needles.
• On that note, however, anything more thrilling than Dr Who will require my being cuddled. This means, though, that you get to snug right up next to me. This is a good thing. I smell good and I've got D-cup breasts. What more can we ask here?
• I like wearing suspenders, and Dita Von Teese is practically an idol.
• Your mates won't scare me either.
• I am crap at video games. You will win all the time. You can attempt to teach me, but that will require me sat between your legs. Don't see that being a problem ;)
• My friends are pretty cool. They're intelligent, witty, and accepting of almost anything.
• I come as a package deal. This might sound scary. It's okay. It just means that you are stuck with Lu as well. She makes excellent lasagne.
• I have several pairs of very slutty heels.
• I am no longer in touch with any exes.
• I read Cosmo.
• I'm pretty. No, really.
  
  

  

  Not actually as orange as I look in the picture. Apart from the hair. The hair is orange.

So really, all in all, I'm pretty cool. I go for most types of guys, and no matter who you are I'm not going to laugh at you if you come up and ask me out. Providing I don't find you creepy, I'll say yes.

So come on then. If you've got a crush on me, don't be shy.

My Saturday (More therapy based writing)

You'll be pleased to hear, faithful reader, that my fingers have stopped hurting since yesterday, as I have taken a day's respite from the guitar. This is mostly due to a very painful rendition by me of Jolene by Dolly Parton, after which I decided I should perhaps go buy a new chord book and learn songs I can sing, to prevent the depression setting in as I BUTCHER some of my favourite tracks.
That's about it on the getting better front, however.
You remember my ex? OFC you do, I wrote a massive fucking paragraph on the nutter. Well this is mainly going to concern him, since he's still being a cock.
Why is he being a cock, darling peruser of my distinctly weird blog? Well. Let me start by telling you a small other thing, because the author in me feels that the big thing should be saved for a big finale.

I had not yet informed my B-E-A-UTIFUL best friend, Lu: 

Me, Sarah, Mitch and Luli at prom, July 2010

Of my unfortunate break up.  And boy, was it unfortunate.  Anyway, I hadn't told her yet. I rarely call her (this makes me an uber bitch, I know) so normally I have an entire week of bitching to share with her, as does she with me.  I informed her of our eventual split.  I did not expect her to go "OH. So that's why whenever I greet him all cheerfully he looks a bit frightened. I must of [Lovely reader, this is just how she talks. I know she means have.] looked like a complete idiot. Can you call me sooner next time please?"  I felt rather guilty at this point.  She, however, has offered to harass him for the twenty quid he still owes me (Yes, still, but quite honestly I've not made it easy for him to talk to me, what with refusing to see him.) which I presume means  that she forgives me.  I found out later, having consulted her mummy (not so weird, she's like a ridiculously fun auntie, and my manager, but more on that later), that SHE had also seen stupid ex, greeted him cheerfully, and had too wondered why he had blanked her.  I explained. She got really quite irate.
Life went on within the day. I served customers. They were nice. We had pizza for lunch, it was BOGOF and had pepperoni, which is always awesome.
Wendi (manager, Luli's mum) drives us home every Saturday on the way home.  She asked me on the way what I intended to do with my life now.  Jokingly (mostly), I said that I was going to get really, REALLY slutty and just do whatever the fuck I wanted. She thought that this was a very good idea, and I should use the tenner she had just given me (Yes, I'm a volunteer worker. No, I don't know why she gave me a tenner. Yes, I tried to argue with her. Most pointless 15 seconds of my life EVER.) to go buy some Lambrini and shag this guy I was talking about who I had a crush on. (She's the kind of person I can tell this shit to. She's fifty and still snogging 20 year olds in bars.)  I had to remind her, again, that I was still seventeen.  You'd think she'd get this, my being the same age as her daughter and having been around hers most weeks since I was about eleven, and several times more between the ages of 6 and 8.  But no.  Not that I don't expect this from her.  She keeps asking her own daughter to go and buy aforementioned alcohol.  STILL doesn't get the whole underage thing. Distinctly remember a moment from a sleepover aged fifteen, and her asking Lu to nip up the shops in the car and buy her some Nicorette.  I love her, but she's not exactly improving with age.
Anyway.  I pointed out the lack of age to her, but she still thinks acting slutty is the first step to recovery.  I am actually tempted.  She seems happy enough.
Anywho. I got home after this, and logged on to Facebook.  Eventually. Was dragged out by father to apply for jobs first.  ANYWAY, earlier this morning I had received a Facebook-based email from the stupid ex, which went as follows.

I had decided this morning not to grace it with a reply as yet, to go to work and deal with it later.  I was not impressed, believe me. You'd think if he had thought it through about still wanting me, we'd still be together.  Stupid man.  Are all men stupid? (Duh.) Anyway.  I later decided to reply to him, and the conversation went as follows.

I thought it only fair to warn him about Wendi. She was threatening to break into his house and piss in his mouthwash.  Honest to God.
I just...  He is so fucking agitating it almost hurts.  His date has gone badly with the violet slag, and now we come back to me. Obviously. Because I clearly didn't say at the time when we broke up that he'd had his second chance, so fuck him to fuck!!  It is possibly the most appropriate moment for a facepalm ever. IN FACT:

Anyway, enough of Jean Luc Picard.  I'm going to sign off now, as my anger has slightly dissapated and there is honestly nothing more I can say in this instance.  Might hunt down some Magners.  Love to all. xxxx

Stupid Stupid Stupid

Things which are stupid - Men, money, not eating breakfast, fingertips bitten up by the first load of guitar playing you've done in years (this blog brought to you more slowly than normal), being hurt that your ex is now going on a date with the girl he left you for, falling for the girl your ex left you for's ex who might just like you a little bit too, getting whiteboard rubbers thrown at your head for a whole hour and a half by that guy, stress headaches, the functionalist view on crime, the civil service, not having a drink for lunch and so having to ask your mum if you can borrow some of her money to get one, stress headaches (REALLY fucking stupid), obstinate teenage-pregnant friends who can't seem to get it into their stupid heads that it is just inappropriate to announce yourself "Hi, I'm M***** and very very soon I'm going to be FAT" when the father of the baby is 40-fucking-2 years old.

Yeah, it's another bitchy blog.  I think I'm only going to blog in times of great stress, despite the effect that will then have on the stress headaches.  How about I run through the list for you to release my stress?  Not that you have a choice what my blogs contain.  If you don't like it, stop reading.

Men - My love life has gone like this for the past three or so weeks.  On a Friday whilst I was at work, my (now-ex) boyfriend texted me saying that he didn't want us to be together anymore.  After a couple of hours of extensive bargaining and pretending that I had really REALLY bad hayfever and was perhaps allergic to Lu's perfume, I attempted to have us split on fairly nice terms.  The same afternoon we were talking again, me making silly jokes about pepsi cans and him being grateful that I wasn't trying to stab him.  Wednesday turns up, and I wander past his on the way home, jokingly telling him not to check out my ass as I walked by.  He invites me in, we chat.  He gets up to go the bathroom, comes back and I ask for a hug.  We hug. For a LONG ASS TIME.  He starts to pull away, and the next thing I knew (through no legitimate fault of mine), we're kissing.  In a pretty full-on, devour each other's faces kinda way.  We stop, he moves away.  I make a crack about whether or not that's going to happen everytime we kiss. He says no, he just really missed me.  Hmph.  We keep talking, and after a while he gets up again and goes to see if his dad is up. He sits back down, but next to me this time, and the face-devouring continues.  After we've calmed down, and I've started pretending I'm not a little bit tearful, we decide that we'll give it another shot, and just see each other once a week like we would have done anyway, but whilst being boyfriend/girlfriend during that slot.  So we carry on like that for a little bit.  A week and a half maybe? I sort of lost track.  This weekend just been, however, he said that we weren't going to work, he didn't like the sort of relaxed approach we had and we should just stop trying.  I inform him that if he does this via an instant messaging system again (this is on Facebook. Seriously. Excuse me, umpire, new balls please!!) I'm probably never going to talk to him again.  He decides we should see each other Tuesday after college and talk about it face-to-face.  We never really got as far as Tuesday. Monday night we start discussing it, and he starts dropping hints about how disgusted he feels with himself, and how he's become his own worst nightmare.  At this point, I get a bit antsy.  Mostly because I've discussed his worst nightmare with him, and that's being a cheating boyfriend.  I tell him he'd better explain himself, because he wouldn't like the conclusion I was jumping to.  He asked me what that conclusion was.  I lost my nut a little bit at that point, and screamed at him that actually, I think he'd better just tell me, because I was sick to the back teeth of guessing what was going on and surely it would be easier just to come out with it.  This is when he tells me that he's got such a huge crush on another girl, whose name I won't say here because I don't really mind her so much.  It's not her fault.  This is when I decide that perhaps it would be best to break up, and then also decide to stop talking to him for the rest of the evening.  He asks later whether or not we're still going to a gig (we are) and I pointed out that I'd probably not want to punch him in his stupid face by October.  I did NOT realise that October is about two weeks away.  (I'm going to take this moment to say that I'm not sure what it is I just found on my arm, but it is either a really long, sore bruise, or a very sore artery.) He asked me to please not punch him in the glasses, as his grandma helped fund them.  It was at this point that I told him to shut the fuck up.  I found out this morning via a mutual friend that he went on a date with her.  She's in a relationship already (it was more Facebook INVESTIGATION than stalking. And it was only once. Yesterday.).  So he's still being a cock.  GRARGH.  SO SO SO glad that there are more than just me and him going to the gig. May never have appreciated Luke and Lottie so much before.  But yes. Men troubles discussed. Heart feels like it's been pulled out through my nostrils, stomped on and stuffed back in via my belly button, but never mind.

Money - I have none. Does what it says on the tin really.

Lack of breakfast - Really fucking hungry.  No money.

Fingertips - MY GUITAR HAS BEEN RESCUED :D  And I'm not completely shit!!  (Okay, total lie).  I can now play several chords that I have already forgotten the names of, but definitely D, and I can almost do the whole of Love Me Tender :D  Feel decidedly pleased with myself.  However, due to maniacal typing, the little sore bit on the tips are all red and raw and a bit angry at me.  They'll get over it. I brought handcream with me, I'll make it up to them.  Guitar though :D  It's a blue Ashton classical. VERY pretty.  TINY little dent that isn't so noticeable, but lovely all the same.

Being all beaten up about Chewy and the Violet Girl (ex looks like a wookie, new woman dyes her hair a new colour every two or three weeks. Last time I checked it was purple) - I have since asked Sarah to stop telling me this shit.  It just hurts.  I got all tearful on the bus and everything (think I carried it off, but she follows my blog so she'll probably know once she's read this. Meh).  I'd really like to get over it, and I don't think keeping me up to date with all his news is any way to go about it.  I do NOT want to cry over a walking carpet.  Just... Ow, I guess.  Rejection is not fun.  Especially after two and a half years.  TWO AND A HALF YEARS AND HE DUMPS ME BY TEXT.  Fucking men.

The Other Guy - I'm going to think up a codename for him. He already had a codename but knows it now, and my evil friends are devious and might, in a misguided attempt to get us together like Beatrice and Benedick out of Much Ado About Nothing, show him.  I do NOT need him to know I have feelings for him at the moment.  Especially not when I still get painful little pangs hearing about my ex.  Let us call this new man Adam.   Before I broke up with my ex, I started getting a bit of a crush on Adam. Okay, very big one, to the point where my ex could tell and he's never even met Adam.  I got teased a lot, and maintained to most people that there were no feelings there at all. Pffft, yeah right.  He's lovely.  He's told me he's an old romantic who would want to take a girlfriend who would appreciate it to Austria and France. Seriously.  Gah.  Anyway, I made a good attempt to get over it, as I was still madly in love with Chewy and pretty happy in my relationship.  I managed to get rid of the majority of my feelings for Adam and forget about it.  Apart from now.  NOW I keep having not exactly appropriate thoughts about him.  Which, whilst fun, are not a good thing.  Lovely friends who are attempting to do the best for me, and so driving me INSANE, feel like I should give it a go and have a flirt, seeing as how he seems to have a thing for me as well.  To the point where my mother, Sarah, Anna and Sarah's boyfriend all seem to agree.  Wow.  I'm starting to wonder if they might be right.  I don't want to immeadiately go and do anything, because since Monday (it being Friday now) I have NOT had enough time to be grieving for my previous relationship, and whilst Sarah and Anna seem to disgree, I don't really care.  I want some more time.  Like a good few weeks.  Rather than four days.  It was two and a half years.  That's not going to go away instantly because he doesn't love me anymore (claims he still does, fuck that) and I've got a crush on someone else.  Hmph.  Fuck if I know what to do.

Whiteboard rubbers - Seriously.  Think an inch by an inch sized sponges, with a bit of cloth on top.  Like a soft scourer.  Thrown at my head. At least twenty times.  He only had three rubbers.  How did he manage twenty times? If he threw them at my head at just the right angle, they would bounce back to him because he was sat next to me.  He got me straight on the cheek at one point, apparently leaving a black smudge.  Unimpressed.  Have not spoken to him since.  Absence not making the heart grow fonder.  Just pissed off.  People seem to be thinking this is like what little boys do to little girls when they like them, like pick on them and pull their pigtails and the like.  It had better be, because if he is just doing it to piss me off I'm going to punch his stupid (attractive) face in. GRARGH.

Stress headaches - Possibly the most inconvenient headaches ever.  You are already stressed and then BAM, incurable headache. Mine is in my forehead.  VERY frustrating.

Functionalist view on crime - Just won't stick in my head. Despite writing two mini essays on the topic.

The civil service - Just GRARGH. They still haven't managed to give my dad a decent new job.  Probably not long til he quits.

Relying on mother for liquids - I might play the heartbroken card. She tends to sympathise with that.

Stress headaches - Still stupid, still getting worse.  Hopefully getting a drink soon.

My pregnant friend - Just...  It's just maddening, it really, really is.  She continually claims to not give a shit what other people thinking, and is as such going to carry on declaring her pregnancy by her 42 year old "partner" (she's 18.  I know.)  whenever and wherever she pleases as, fuck it, she's going to be obviously pregnant in five months anyway, she might as well declare it now so that people have warning. I swear, one of these days...  "At least she has her friends to support her."  Getting to that stage where I DON'T WANT TO.  I don't want to have to look over her shoulder for her when people starting bitching.  I don't want to have to defend her to people. Because whilst she doesn't care what people think, she's going to have to start because I am not going to hang around if she is going to keep being so damn inappropriate in her declarations.  JUST. NO.  I have got to the point where I am so close to having had it with her completely that I don't even particularly want to see her.  And I am pretty damn tolerant.  It may have to come to it shortly where we point out that she is embarassing us.  (I say we.  I'll say it alone, but I'm 99% sure that there are people with me on this one.)  I have enough to deal with in my life at the moment without picking up pieces behind her as well.

I've been blogging on this one for about an hour now.  I feel slightly better, but still very annoyed.

I'm also a little bit confused.  I have a friend called John.  He is American. He's quite nice, though I find him unnerving at the best of times.  He seems to think, despite having me on Facebook and my name being repeated in front of him quite a lot, that my name is Harriet.

Ny name is NOT Harriet. It is Madeleine if we're GOING to go for the full name.  I really have no idea what's going on there.  Just going to let it go.

I have about twenty minutes left til lunch.  I think I shall sign off here and go grab a drink.  I still have about four books in my bag from yesterday, so I'll try and get rid of the headache.

Love love luh-uh-uhve to all. (No idea what I'm on about? FOR SHAME. Go listen to 5 Years Time by Noah and the Whale. Go now.)

I've Neglected You

I seem to be neglecting a lot of things at the moment.
Like my personal statement for my uni application, twitter, and my health.
Migraines are SHITE, btw.
Shitey shitey shitey.