life plan

I'm going to fail hoplessly in life. The fact that I'm moving out in September and living away from home is something that never fails to make me cackle like a hag (the cackling is usually followed up by crying and a panic attack). Basically I can't do anything. I'm an untidy mess of "I think I'm doing this wrong" and I've actually spelt my name incorrectly an embarrassing amount of times. I don't know where this introduction is going, so I'll make it relevant again. My life plan currently consists of crying my way through certain things of imporance and blagging my way through it all and hopefully it'll all be over quickly so I can die alone in my arm chair to a crap re run of scrubs. or something. I don't know. Yeah anyway, here is what I'm currently hoping for.



CAT CAR

there'll be a time in the near future where you'll be able to get the face/head of your favourite animal stuck to the front of a car for your own driving pleasure. I'm gonna get a cat one. Now, I'm not entirely sure why this car is floating and instead of a car seat it has a dining chair stuck to it - but thats I guess how the future will turn out. I can't wait to buy my cat car. Everything will be okay when I get it. UNTIL...


GETTING SERIOUSLY OBESE

At the age of 25 I'm gonna get seriously obese and be constantly surrounded by floating mcdonalds packets. It's going to rock the world (my thighs will at least). But yeah, I'm also going to get a hilariously unflattering bob cut which will serve to make my head look even more round than it already is. After two years however, I'll lose all the weight and return to my normal size.

Being able to walk in high heels

 
I'll be a new person once my fat has been burnt off. I'll finally try on a pair of high heels and I'll find that I can walk in them. So I get home, recolour my hair blonde and cut my face off and grow a new one and HEY this face is HOT. I then move to Paris and trot around in high heels for two months. Because I can. People smile at me in the street and stop grimacing. Everything is lovely until I realise that all I am is a pretty face with amazing shoes. I cut my shoes off and dye my hair ginger and suddenly my personality is BORN AGAIN.


Dying alone

please. if you're reading this. Please love me. I'm begging you : ( : ( : (

how to turn eighteen successfully and without dissappointment.

I recently turned eighteen. Depending on how old you are, you're probably thinking "eighteen! Pfft I turned eighteen years ago" OR "eighteeen! I can't WAIT to turn eighteen, a whole other world will be open to me!". Either way eighteen is finally the age where you are able to stop having to get your older friends to buy you wine and instead your younger friends start pestering you to buy them wine.


Constantly tell your parents that you're about to get married

Guaranteed to be the most fun you'll have at turning 18, telling your constantly angry parents that you're eloping with your 21 year old boyfriend whom you've known for scarcely two months is destined to be full of hilarity. Try jazzing it up with "it's fine mum, I'm an adult now! I can elope with whoever I want!" and "I know I've only known him two months, but what is two months in comparison to a lifetime" OR EVEN "I've already spent £2000 on your credit card on a big fat greek gypsy wedding style dress!" I've already had one wild evening of fun in this style - so now it's your turn.



Ask shop assistants if they want to see your ID constantly

 Even if you're not buying age protected products. Buy some baby food (even if youre not a baby) and maybe a flump and ask them if they need to see your ID. Hopefully they'll look confused and hurt and this is the best reaction you're gonna get. of course they don't need to see your ID. They might laugh at you - but if they do this you can just say "fine i'll take my business elsewhere" and then they'll get an arse whooping by their manager. Who's laughing now? 
also - ask for a double vodka coke without the vodka in a pub. they'll be so confused.


Voting for the first time

There won't be a general election for a long time sadly but when you finally are able to vote - waste your vote by voting for the monster raving loony party. That way, you won't have to educate yourself about the parties and read through manifestos to decide who you'll actually vote for - you know monster raving loony party won't get in  - you'll be exercising your rights as an over 18 british citizen but not wasting any time so you're still able to fit in telling your parents your wedding plans and buying baby food into your tight schedule.

 Buy a copy of the film SAW but cover it in "My Little Pony" stickers so it looks exactly like a my little pony DVD and give it to a tiny child. heheheheheheehehhehe

 

no inspiration. NONE.

I mean, you don't normally assume things like mediocre blogs to require inspiration, but my god they do. Catsandknitting is now right at the back of my mind like a naggling dissappointment that I keep trying to put off/forget about in the hope that one day I'll remember it and be amazing once again.
Thing is I just can't stop thinking about it. I feel like I've abandoned a tiny child who used to bring me such joy but now has gotten fat and constantly sings tv advertising jingles all the time. or something. yeah..
The only thing I can possibly think about writing about and stuff is a good old update on fun things that have happened.


Going to the Tower of London

A mysterious strange man took me to the tower of london about three weeks ago. now, if you know me at all (which I'm hoping you don;t, I love the idea of strangers reading my blog) I've cried a couple of times over how badly I want to go to the tower. and I went. I saw the ravens and stuff and walked directly into Nick Robinson on the embankment, which made me laugh hysterically for a long time.. and I got a steak. and this steak was incredible. It was almost as big as my face. and it was so good and full of muscle juice. Just the way I like it. Mmmn blood.

Turning into an adult

Yeah man, I'm now eighteen and able to vote and get a tattoo and stuff. If you're a devoted fan, you'll remember last year I wrote a blog about how i hate birthdays here. Breaking the tradition, I had a wonderful birthday full of bacon and free cheesecake and woo woo. I drank a pitcher of woo woo with my friend alexa, (you can read her wonderful blog here) and then went home and napped it off. Which is really 18 of me. But yeah.


here is a list

• Saw some doggers at coate water. My boyfriend beeped and flashed his car lights at them and they got embarrassed. It was hilarious.
• I got caught trying to take a picture of my media teacher and she got annoyed and I got embarrassed. It was awful.
• uhm thats it.

drawings of me doing things

here is me holding a cat in the middle of space-

 here is me eating a sandwhich (which is odd because i dont like sandwhiches)

here is me strutting my stuff for Dior's spring couture show -

here is me as a slaveen from doctor who doing the ironing -

here is me punching an unsuspecting handsome tall man -

my guide to being poor

I'm really good at being thrifty. I've spent seventeen years of my life having to look in bargain bins and shopping at drimark (primark knock off) sales to make myself look relatively half normal. There are downsides however, as I usually smell like dust, moth balls and slime and also that people mistake me for being homeless relatively often. I am poor and I'm relatively proud of it. From going to a very middle class school in Highworth I was told that my income and my house (direct quote here "Don't you live in a scavvy estate?) were bad bad things, and by shopping in drimark (occassionally) that I'm a dirty cheapskate. These things have hurt my feelings in the past, but now I'm 18 with a really fabulous coat I am now able to laugh at people who are richer and posher than me because being poor makes me a totally cooler person. or something. I dont know where I'm going with this introduction anymore.



or where I'm going with this blog.

the perils of public transport

Originally written for - Oh Yeah Me Too - http://ohyeahmetoo.net/archives/1792


Living in Highworth, I’m a 30 minute bus ride from civilisation.
I mean, Highworth is reasonably civilised if you like kebabs and alcohol and a nice, faux- community atmosphere, which I don’t personally. This is why I spend so much of my time on public transport. I worked out last night that I get 25 buses per week, which is dangerous – there are so many dangers that people just don’t realise.
For example, those moments of “Oh, the only seat left is next to the man with a skin disease who is miming along to Lady Gaga. What harm can sitting next to him do?” and “Oh God, i dropped my pen and now it’s rolling all around the floor of the bus. do people know that it was my pen? Do i pick it up? Oh God, oh God”.
So yeah. this blog will hopefully try help you when you get into these transport disasters since I’m a well seasoned bus-hag.


Getting on the bus with your mum and her shouting at teenagers who are swearing

I know the accompanying picture is my mum starting a fight with a young boy in the street, but that’s only because the interiors of buses are suprisingly difficult to draw. Basically, if you’ve ever been on the number 7 bus from Swindon to Highworth, you’ll be well aware of that crazy Scottish lady who sometimes shouts at other passengers for listening to music, swearing, or in a worst case scenario, listening to sweary music..
You’ll ask yourself Who is this strange scottish lady shouting at me? and why does she have so many tentacles? (or something) but honestly, just ignore it. Swear louder and then give her a nose bleed.
WRAPPED UP: Just don’t swear on public transport because it’s just annoying and especially bad when tiny children start repeating it. I mean, it’s hilarious but WRONG.



Over-hearing juicy gossip about strangers

Once, I overheard this -

Man: Serious, I love you and everythink but seriously you’re such a f**king sket, i’ve told you before about my brother and i’ll tell everyone i know if you do it again, watch your f**kin back
Lady: babe i love you too and am sorry but i ent a sket, he tried it on with me and i was pissed and you hadnt talked to me in like a week or summin
Man: mate that is no f*ken excuse shut the f**k up you slag
All the while I had become so overcome with the scandal of the situation I giggled into a clammy mess of “oh my, I hope they don’t sense I’m giggling out of nerves!!! Sometimes, it’s someone you know and that’s especially good, because then their problems become so much more real since you had them on Bebo in year eight.
Stupid people talking

I once overheard a boy talking to his friend how much he was enjoying the Shakespeare play Great Expectations in English, and I was so overcome with rage my vision went blurry for a good twenty seconds.
When you find yourself in situations like this, where people are babbling rubbish that you know to be ridiculous and you want to throttle their tender little throats and then mutilate them violently and hang them upside down so all their blood drains out and makes a little stream and then maybe make some paper boats and make them go sailing in the blood or something, but it’s best that you don’t as you don’t want to go to prison.
When someone you know from school is on the bus but you don’t talk to them anymore. Sit with them or not sit with them?

Forget divorce, getting sacked or finding out your own child isn’t actually your own child, this is probably the worst challenge you’ll face in your adult life. It’s a test of friendship, good-nature and patience. Sure, this person might have breath like garlicky bums, but do you really want their little toe and garlic mouth to be sad? No, of course you don’t. My advice is to sit behind or in front of them, talk to them for as long as you can until it runs dry, then turn around and put on Rufus Wainwright at volume 29 for the remainder of the journey. SHCORE.

Basically just learn to drive.

modern day commandments

We live in an age of people constantly telling us to do things, whether it's to buy our girlfriends sexy lingerie for valentines day or that we should stop googling serial killers and start looking like Beyonce it's all a constant bombardment of "DO THIS DO THAT MORE EFFICENT, OH GOD DAMN I'LL JUST DO IT MYSELF" and such lark. I'm assuming you came here to escape that, but no you're going to get more instructions here. My modern day commandments (there are only two, so dont worry).

Never trust a man in a vest
There are two types of men that wear vests.

1) The above. Likes top gear and his women (when he can find them) in the kitchen making him bacon sandwhiches. I mean, it's not that anyone who ever decides to put on a vest is a bad person, it's just that wearing a vest requires you to assume that everyone wants to see your sexy sillouhette and back fat, which, I'M SORRY but we totally don't. (Unless you're beyonce).

2) He loves himself so much he kisses his arms and his belly button at night time and he even curls his chest hair and his eyelashes so that he looks like a beautiful muscular lady. He isn't to be trusted because he has 18 girlfriends and 3 boyfriends (that exact number because 21 is his favourite number).

Never buy second hand yo-yos from dwarves