Oh! Hello Sailor.

Okay, so the reason I have been absent from blogging/destroying mens ego’s for a while, is because my life and eventual career kind of depend on this month. Instead of blogging about the time I smiled at a gorgeous boy at the gym, subsequently missing the bottom step, and also the time when whilst singing my heart out I pulled up at the traffic lights, looked across at another car and saw my ex looking at me like an alien had just dropped out of the sky, I have been hitting my head against a brick wall. Or as it is commonly referred: revising.

I wouldn’t call revising my favourite pass time, it’s kind of on a par with waxing. It’s not vital, but you kind of have to do it if you want to get anywhere in life. Painful, but worth it when you see the results.

So according to a revision website I have been keeping as my bible for the past 3 weeks, there are 5 key tips for successful revision.

Number One: Make a set of revision cards.

Done. Much to my Dads annoyance they are cello-taped all over my bedroom walls. I told him not to worry because leaving sticky residue on my white walls will give me a better chance of leaving home in October. I have never seen my Dad's mood change so quickly.


Number Two: Create and stick to a revision time table, giving yourself regular breaks.

Done. That is if you consider half hourly toilet visits because of the amount I am drinking, and do-a-mind-map-have-a-biscuit a schedule.


Number Three: Find a quiet place to revise and make sure you’re comfy.

As I am not really comfortable in any other clothing than my gym wear, I have been constantly looking like I’m off for a run, and as for quiet, I’m afraid there is little chance of that happening in my house. I got up on Sunday morning and straight away got dressed (a strange thing for me at the Weekend) and sat at my desk and started making my notes, when I heard a very loud mmm-ing noise. Yes, the one time I have ever wanted to revise on a Sunday morning, my Dad decided to do a spot of hoovering. Then in the afternoon, as I was just getting stuck into a bit of 'Jane Eyre', my Dad turned on the TV in the opposite room and proceeded to watch Motorbike racing. Don’t get me wrong, that isn’t a crime, but when he insists on watching it at 10 times the healthy volume whilst having the door swung completely open, I am sorry but I will not be held responsible for my actions.


Number Four: Revise with a friend, by taking it in turns to test each other.

I’m afraid when every single conversation you have with your friends in 100% sarcasm, it makes it hard to take them seriously enough to revise with them. Especially when one of them in particular is always breaking out into her own particularly special rendition of Wuthering Heights. She certainly gives Kate Bush a run for her money. Take note that my sarcasm stretches to when I talk about my friends, as well as too them.


Number Five: Create Anchors for yourself.

I had never heard of ‘Anchor’ being used in this kind of context before last week, but it’s mainly a term that refers to a memory technique for when you want to memorise something effectively. For example you link a word you need to remember with something well known to you, using the power of your imagination. The basis of a good ‘anchor’ is imagining an absurd, positive, funny or exaggerated situation that you can link with the given word. I actually owe one of my favourite ‘anchors’ to a really lovely girl in my class, who is the reason I will never ever forget Sigmund Freud’s theory on ‘Personality’. Basically because it involved weeing in public; always good for jogging my memory.

There is also another sub-heading for the term ‘Anchor’, and it refers to the things that remind us of memories and people. Like for me, whenever I see anyone wearing Abercrombie and Fitch is reminds me of when I was in New York and I thought I had walked into the mens changing rooms. As I found out there was actually a man standing there topless for the purposes of luring people into the store. All I can say is good call A&F. And, why, when I smell talcum powder, it reminds me of my next door neighbour, or whenever ‘She’s so lovely’ by Scouting for Girls comes on the radio I remember my first ever boyfriend. Not that he thought I was lovely after it ended.

‘Anchors’ are the reason getting over a relationship can be so hard. I can guarantee that anyone who has ever broken-up with someone will have experienced that phase where no matter what you do or where you go, everything seems to be a reminder of them. It feels like every shop you go in is playing that song he once sang to you really badly and that film you went to see on your first date has now come out on DVD and the adverts are plastered everywhere. (Maybe this one only applies to me, as the average length of time it takes for a film to go from cinema to disk is two months, and this is the length of nearly all of my relationships.)

Even after months and years, these anchors will still find a way of weighing you down. It only has to take being caught in the rain without an umbrella, running into Starbucks and hearing ‘Watch the Sun come up’ by Example to remind you of your summer romance. Believe me, I have had the woman behind the counter asking me if I’m okay, because, in her words I looked like ‘a lost foreigner’ that was upset because I hadn’t got an umbrella.

Whilst you’re being held down by these anchors, its hard to feel like your not drowning. All you want to do is swim away, forget all those things that make your stomach do somersaults. I’m not saying that you will be able to cut those ties easily or sometimes not at all, you may even find that after thinking you are finally free, you tangle your leg in the rope and it drags you right back down again.

But one thing you should always remember; there are plenty more fish in the Sea.



Live. Laugh. Love

Fancy a game of Poker?

I have always been incredibly competitive, and I blame that on my Mum. You see the thing with my Mother Goose is that she doesn’t let anyone win, at any sport, card or board game. Now, normally when you see a Mother and her 2 children sat round playing Connect 4 or Snakes and Ladders, you wouldn’t normally hear the shouts of ‘YES! I won! LOSERS’ coming from the Mum. Well in my family thats exactly what it's like. I can even remember the time when I played tennis with my Mum, Brother and Granddad. I was about 10 and even then they didn’t take it easy on me. I was fully expected to defend myself from the rapid serves coming my way, even though my Mum played at club level, my Granddad used to teach tennis to kids and my brother was already over six foot at the age of 14. At that point in my life, being absolutely shocking at Tennis, taking into account the constant taunts I received from my Brother, and being the only ginger in a family of dark haired people, I actually found myself wondering whether I was adopted.

Now I am older, my Mum still finds any opportunity possible to beat me at something. So much so that any time she see’s an air hockey table, she is drawn to it like a magnet. Even at the cinema she doesn’t see anything wrong in dumping her bags down and challenging me to a game so she can ‘‘Whip your ass’’ as she puts it.

However, in the past year I have started to beat her at things. I will always remember the first time I ever won her at mini golf; her face was such a picture. At that historical moment she turned into the toddler from that Vic’s First Defense advert. Okay, maybe not quite as bad as that, but for the rest of the day she did look as if she was about to cry. Almost as bad as the time when as a family were playing Scrabble and my Mum had a smug grin on her face because she had got a double word score for the word ‘Private’. Next up was my Brother and all he did was add an ‘S’ to the end a got himself a triple word score. I thought her head was going to explode from the amount of ‘But..Er..You can’t...Eh?’ she was doing.

Her response when we asked her why she never let us win as kids is ‘I didn’t want a pair of kids that got into the real world and became mardy when they lost at anything. I’m just preparing you. Be grateful’. Oh she is such a babe.

On occasions that my Nana and Granddad used to look after us, they would buy us Chocolate coins and we used to play card games and bet on it with them. How underweight I was as a child might be due to the fact I always used to lose all of my Chocolate.

This morning I was feeling a little melancholy and decided to look through a scrap book I made when I was younger, and there it was, one of the wrappers from a chocolate coin. Next to the attached gold foil I had written something about how I never won my Brother at card games, but that I was fine with that because it made him happy.

Reading that made me realise that I have always been the same. I have always been a person who is happy as long as others are happy. Thats another thing I get from my Mum. I go to whatever lengths, get myself hurt, just as long as that person I care about is happy, so that I can walk away knowing they don’t think badly of me. I find myself sometimes sacrificing my own happiness or enjoyment so that others aren’t getting hurt. This has become apparent to me now, more than ever, especially when it comes to Love.

Our lives are like a game of Poker. There are times when we are lucky, and seem to have all the cards to get us exactly what we want in life. But there are also times in life when no matter how much you may try, you seem to keep losing until you have nothing left to give.

When you have all the right cards in life, it is easy to get carried away. We start to feel invincible, like there is nothing in this world that could knock you from your stool at the Poker table, and no matter how many people raise you more chips, you either match or raise them even more. It now comes to the showdown. What if that hand you were once so confident about, lets you down? All that was resting on something that you thought was safe, has now been lost. You walk away feeling like you have lost everything, the adrenaline that once engulfed your body has - along with your losing cards - been put back into the pack as well as the chips into someone else’s pile.

Perhaps, the hand isn’t that great. You find yourself sitting at the Poker table wondering whether this is a good idea. Yeah, maybe you have put a small amount of chips in, but they don’t matter, you could manage without them. Here you are, having to make a decision; do you cut your losses? Maybe your head tells you to walk away, after all it is the sensible thing to do, you know the hand you have been dealt won’t get you anything that is worth the effort. Yet, you hang on that little too long, and end up losing more than you would if you had listened to your head.

I’m afraid we are all addicts. No matter how bad things go with Life and Love, we always think the next time will be better. Perhaps it will be. I don’t know, at the moment I find myself losing the will to bet.

But you know what, if all else fails, go out with your best friends, dance like no one is watching and sing ‘Summer Nights’ really badly on Karaoke with the people so great, they don’t mind when your chips are down.



As it turns out, I am terrible at Poker, as well as Love, but play me at Tekken, and your going down. Oh, the irony.




Live. Laugh. Love

You can ask me the question now, Noel

 Okay, I just woke up from a really weird dream where I was a contestant on the Game show, Deal or No Deal. I have had this same dream a few times over the past couple of weeks and it basically follows the same kind of gist as the Channel 4 show. I always find myself at the beginning of the show where several names are being flashed up on screen, and every time my name gets picked. Cue clapping and a frantic excited reaction from myself, I am on Deal or No Deal after all! Noel goes through all the questions and asks me to confirm that I picked this box from random, to which I agree. Everything seems very normal - when I look in front of me there is my box, number 14 and the screen with all the money totals on it, from 1p to £250,000 and 21 other contestants. Behind me there are all of my friends in the audience. The little jingle plays and then Noel asks me to pick my first box, which I decide is going to be number 12. The box belongs to a woman called Dawn and she breaks the seal, and then lifts the lid. However, that's when it starts to get a little strange. Instead of seeing a flash of a red or a blue value of money, out pops one of my ex's. The audience ruptures into applause and I get the idea that he must be a low amount (and from what I remember from the relationship he wasn’t worth very much). Even after having this dream several times, I am still shocked when he steps out of the box and tells me everything I ever did wrong in the time we were together. Dawn then kicks him in the back, so that he falls to his knees and then proceeds to drag him by his foot out of the studio. Then, as if it were completely normal I get asked to pick my second box and I go for number 3. I don’t remember the man’s name but he opens the box. However, this time I am aware that another of my ex's will spring out and give me a lecture about how I was a terrible girlfriend. This particular box holds a Policeman I went out with for about two months over Christmas, but unlike the previous box, he just starts to sob and starts to beg for me to come back. I then give the contestant the nod and he kicks him in the back and pulls him off by his eyebrows (I’m guessing the eyebrows because I always plucked his eyebrows for him).


This continues and box after box opens revealing yet more boys I have ever flirted with, had a date with or full blown relationship. Some of the boys I don’t even know, which take up most of the red boxes, thus proving I have a terrible dating history, yet hopefully it is going to improve. One boy in particular is absolutely gorgeous yet he comes out the £50 box, so if I ever come across him, I know not to get involved.

One of the things that always seems to be the same are the things that these boys say I have done wrong. Pretty high on the list is the fact that I either never, or take ages to text back. You see the problem with me is that I get pre-occupied, not just when it comes to texting back but in everyday life. I always remember the time I went upstairs to my room, with the intention of tidying it, but half an hour later my Mum opened the door to find me drawing a face on a balloon. Another thing is that I am always pretty adamant that the relationship isn’t going to last very long. If all of your relationships to date had only lasted at most a month, I don’t think you would have much faith either. Both of these things I know about, and it didn’t take this 5th repetition of the dream to figure it out. Something that every boy said was that my immediate reaction to things getting a little hard is to finish it. I’m not going to try and deny this, I do. The way I see it is that we are young, and what is the point in staying in a relationship we are unhappy in? Plenty more better tasting fish in the Sea. (The irony is, is that I am allergic to fish)

One of the boys that jumped out, jack-in-a-box style was Lifeguard boy, who unsurprisingly came out of the £1 box, quite a lot more than he is worth in my opinion, but I suppose he had an alright face. Then there was Doll Face boy at 1p, and someone who I will call Actor boy who was £250. I got a particularly huge smile on my face from seeing these three being kicked in the back, probably more happiness than I should. But there was a boy that I felt a little sad at from seeing him in the higher amounts, because I knew that I shouldn’t have let him slip away.

Consistent with the TV game show, in between the groups of boxes I had phone calls from the banker offering me things like Cats and bottles of wine but I never accepted any of them. ‘Thank you Mr Banker that is very generous of you to offer me 3 Cats, but No deal’.


Then I get to my final two boxes; the one I chose at the start of the show number 14, and number 19. The amounts I have left are £250,000 and 10p, all or nothing, or in boy terms; Nicholas Hoult or Kerry Katona’s ex husband. The banker makes me a final offer and the chance to swap which I refuse. Noel reaches for the seal and tears it off. The audience is silent and it’s all intense. The box is opened... And I wake up! After all that, I wake up! This has happened every time, so I never have any chance to see what I end up with; my prince charming or a charming idiot.

What have I learnt from this dream? Ah well, that Noel Edmund’s shirts really are terrible, that I need to text people back quicker and that if a ex starts to list all the things that annoy them about you, kick them in the back.


Although this is completely unrealistic, and will only ever happen in my dreams - I hope, I don’t think I could cope seeing that many ex boyfriends within the space of forty-five minutes - it reasserted some of the things that are said in the film I was watching when I fell asleep. All of these ex boyfriends that came out of the boxes I have either got over or will have to sometime in the future. Getting over some of them wasn’t easy, and I can almost predict that there will be break ups in the future that won’t be pretty. Unfortunately it is just the way we are programmed as humans and I am also a firm believer in that you won’t know how good you have it until you have had it bad.

One of the problems with getting over someone is that it doesn't matter how many different new ‘looks’ you get or shopping sprees you go on, or the amount of bottles of Wine you drink with your best friends. The chances are you will still go to bed every night and find yourself going over every little moment in the relationship, trying to work out what you did wrong. At some point you may even convince yourself that he will come to his senses and turn up at your door or ring you up begging for forgiveness. When you are ready, you will find yourself in a new place, somewhere where the people will make you feel worthwhile and eventually your heart will start to heal, and you will wonder why you ever wasted that much time fixating on every little mistake. The pain will start to fade.


Basically, all of the 1p and 10p boys of this world, who will hurt you and may even break your heart are not what you end up with. I promise you, that you will always get your £250,000 in the end. You may not be able to see him yet, and you may lose out on those smaller amounts, but as soon as you have that final relationship, you will feel so rich, those previous amounts won’t even matter.



Live. Laugh. Love

Superstitions: How a sore throat prevented a sore heart

“Mars squares up to Pluto and helps you accept a change not just easily but eagerly. You will welcome new faces, lively locations and be ready to test yourself. Single? Flirty smiles in a shopping centre could be the start of something special. Luck circles a J name.”

So after an absolutely perfect birthday weekend with my friends and family I am in bed a 6pm; not because of a hangover, but because I have a really sore throat and snuffly nose. In a weird way, I prefer this kind of ill because I get a little sympathy from my Mum, rather than if it was self-inflicted drinking sickness. However her sympathy only ever comes in small amounts; my brother once shouted at my Mum saying ‘You would make me go to school even if I had broken my leg’ and she replied ‘Of course I would, you don’t write with your leg!’. Saying that though, she has got a little better with sympathy since I had Peritonitis, I think she felt really bad that even though my Dad had taken me to A&E, she had still gone to get her hair done. I’m making my Mum sound awful, aren’t I? Honestly she is the kindest woman you will ever come across. Then again, one of the first things she said to me when I turned 18, with a sinister smile from ear to ear, was that she could no longer be convicted of child abuse. That is true Mum, but there is something called assault.

So, I was feeling all sorry for myself today and robbed a paper from a poor unsuspecting boy in the Common Room and got to the ‘Mystic Meg’ section. I used to be completely obsessed with Horoscopes, I would read them every day and believe them whole-heartedly. It got to the point where, if I read something in a Horoscope, I would make sure it happened, or if it didn’t I would twist things in my head so that it loosely made sense. Also, if my horoscope turned out to be a bad prediction it would put me on a downer. Alternatively, if it was good I would be ecstatic. I realised I was being stupid, living my life on what I read in these horoscopes, because if something really is meant to be, it's meant to be (prediction or not). I know that a lot of people think that it is a load of mumbo jumbo, but who doesn’t like to read their Star sign once in a while?

Now, for anyone who was to read that prediction, they would consider it good, but for me it was nothing short of terrible. And that is because of my track record with any boy with ‘a J name’.

I’m not going to beat around the bush here, and I will say straight off that any kind of contact with any boy whose name begins with J has been disastrous. You name them; Joe, Joe (that isn’t a mistake, there have been two) James, James (again, not a mistake) Josh, Jonathan and a Jamie. Boys whose names have began with ‘J’ have included ‘Waiter Boy’, ‘Lifeguard Boy’, and ‘Doll face Boy’. You could just call it coincidence, but when I realised a few months ago, I decided to swear myself off ‘J’ boys forever, or at least a little while. So can you now understand why I smacked my head on a metaphorical wall when I read Meg’s prediction?

Because, you see, however much I say I don’t believe in these things I still find myself finding an element of truth in them, and at that point in the day I was planning of going to Westfield later that night. I now feel, that although this terrible virus I am suffering from is making me feel lethargic and gives me a mini ten second migraine every time I stand up, I owe an element of gratitude too. If it weren’t for you I would have been standing in the middle of Westfield shouting ‘Jeh’, ‘Juh’ and ‘Jah’ and seeing who looked my way (probably everyone, that would look pretty stupid. Just imagine a ginger girl shouting that in the middle of a shopping centre, actually just imagine a ginger girl) or running between shops looking at boys name tags and then smiling flirtily at them, however you do that! Instead of that, I am sitting in bed eating my body weight in Malteaser Bunny’s and watching re-runs of Never Mind The Buzzcock’s, which is always more fun than failing in Love. So thank you stupid sore throat for saving my heart if even for one more day.

Something I have learnt lately is that just because someone thinks your life should end up one way it doesn’t mean that you need to abide by that and just because someone expects you to fail, it doesn’t mean that you give up trying. Nice try Mystic Meg.










Live. Laugh. Love

Life-Nav

 Ever since I passed my driving test, I've got lost many times as well as cried in many car parks because I couldn't find a space that has at least five free either side so I can get in it without crashing. Thankfully, my mum has alway been on hand to get me into or out of spaces, or there has always been a friend that can get out and guide me around a bollard at a McDonald’s drive-thru, so no crashes just yet. Touch wood. I feel very lucky that my mum invested in a Sat-Nav a while ago so whenever I am on my own and unbelievably lost I can just plug the woman in and if she is feeling in a good mood she finds exactly where I am and how I can get home. However, because my mum bought a cheap one, sometimes the woman gets mardy and she coincidentally has an ‘ERROR LOADING MAPS’. Me and my Mum had this problem in Brighton and we think it was because we left her in the glove compartment whilst we went for a Chinese, and so she was getting her own back. I’m sure machines don’t quite have the ability to think things through like that, but you try explaining to the man at Curry’s why, whenever we ignore her and turn left instead of right, she seems to become a little bitchy.

But I was in the shower this morning and I started wondering if we could have a Sat-Nav for our journeys in life. Like, what if we could program in where we wanted to end up and it would take us there, so that we knew we were on the right track? You see, if we had a Life-Nav, we could program in little detours and landmarks we wanted to stop at along the way. That would be amazing, wouldn’t it?

I’m sure I won’t be alone in saying that sometimes I feel a little lost in life, like I’m kind of driving along the motorway looking for a junction that seems appealing, sounds familiar, or seems close to where I want to get to. Do you ever feel like you're driving at what you think is the appropriate pace, yet everyone else is speeding right past you? Or even the other way around; you're driving so fast you're leaving everyone behind? And you find that even when you're driving along at the right speed, someone will come along and cut you up, making your heart race or making you really angry, and then you will spend the next leg of your journey thinking about it, distracting you from the real things you should be concentrating on.

There are people and things in life that are put there as obstacles. Imagine you're driving along at full speed and you were to hit a pothole that you didn’t see coming. It would certainly shake you up, and may even cause some damage to the car that may take time and money to fix. What if that pothole was a boy? Metaphorically speaking. What if you were going so fast in a relationship that you couldn’t see what was coming? What if that pothole you hit symbolised a broken heart? Making you feel stupid for not seeing the signs and the people frantically waving their arms to tell you to slow down, because they saw what was coming before you did.

Junctions in life can sometimes be the trickiest. Do you turn left or right? If you know where you are going, it's fine, but what if you were to get to the junction and have no idea of the direction you were meant to be heading in? Also, what's worse is that there may be cars piling up behind you, pipping and revving their engines causing you to take the wrong direction - people who got so frustrated that you couldn’t make up your mind about what you what you wanted to do in life that they pressured you into something you weren’t completely happy with. What if you know where you want to be going, yet you can’t seem to be able to pull out, and no one is being kind enough to let you out? Well, as my Driving Instructor used to tell me, you sometimes need to push your way out, and be a little Meerkat... (Anyone who had Andy Nightingale, the best driving instructor ever, you will understand what I mean).

Then there are the corners in life, those ones that are so tight that they have to have a sign, saying ‘SLOW’. Picture if that was a corner you were taking in life, a corner that you couldn’t see round, yet you were driving at full pelt around it after ignoring everyone's advice to reduce your speed. How about if you were halfway round that corner and in the middle of the road there was a fallen tree and you didn’t have time to stop? What if you hadn’t been so stubborn and you had listened to everyone's warnings and taken the corner with a little more precaution. You would have been able to stop, and things would of turned out differently.

What about those people on the side of the road? People that will walk into the road unexpectedly, or pedestrian crossings and traffic lights; all things that cause you step on the brakes and stop for a little while. People may even throw things at your car that may smash the windscreen meaning you cannot see the road ahead. Coming across these inconveniences are facts of life, in the literal as well as metaphorical sense. But look on the bright side, you may end up with Gavin from Auto Glass replacing your window. Every cloud has a silver lining and all that!

Then there’s the illnesses you experience. It may only be a blown light bulb, or little scratch on the passenger side, or a dint in the bonnet caused by a trolley in Sainsbury’s. These may be relatively cheap, easy and quick to fix with a visit to the garage. Or a packet of Soothers and a magazine or a Disney princess plaster over your elbow. But what if its something more serious, something caused in a crash or by something somehow becoming unconnected? A broken leg perhaps, or a burst appendix? These take longer to fix, leaving behind visible scars, causing the car or person problems in the future. Maybe like me, even a year of after being in hospital for a month and having many complications with Peritonitis, you are still having to go back to hospital to see specialists and to have an MRI Scan. (I am fine, don’t worry. However I have no idea why I have to have an MRI, the doctor said some big words and then said I needed an MRI, so I just nodded).

However what happens when there is something wrong with the engine, the heart of the car? You see, affairs of the heart cannot always be seen from the exterior. A broken heart takes time to heal, probably more so than an engine. A lot of delicate work needs to be accomplished and sometimes no matter how many people work on fixing that engine, it can take just one person to get it working again, just like with the heart. Many boys may come along and try to fix your heart, but sometimes it takes just one. One person who has that extra skill or steady hand and patience to really understand how you work.

I have always thought that we all go too fast in life. We are so conscious of getting to where we want to be quickly that we forget to take in the view. Sometimes so fast that we manage to get lost. So lost in fact, that we have no idea where we are, and we drive round in circles trying to find a road that seems familiar, or a sign that tells us the direction in which we should be heading. The fact is that by doing this you may eventually find yourself back on the right track, but really you are just making yourself even more lost, and you are wasting time and energy. Eventually you are going to burn out.

There is no shame in pulling over for a while and finding the map out from your boot, or asking a passer by where the hell you are. Sometimes these strangers offer you the best advice, just like an old man I was talking to the other day, they often have experience and wisdom to pass onto you. And if you happen to be as lucky as I was, that old man may just have the ability the reassure your faith in Love.







Live. Laugh. Love

Man Detox

I have decided to have a ‘No Man March’. Wait, I don’t mean I’m going to start a protest against the male existence, although that sounds really appealing right now. No, I mean that I’m going on a bit of detox. A ‘man detox’, if you will. Now, I’ve never been any good at the food kind of detoxes, so I am slightly sceptical about how a month on a man-free diet will go. I feel like I have been on a bit of a binge of bad food lately, and you would be right in thinking that ‘bad food’ loosely translates to ‘bad boys’. 

You see boys are like food. And just like food there are two types; good and bad.

We all know those bad types; the ones that always taste so good, and look really appetizing. Your mouth waters and your heart races as they pull up outside and ring the doorbell, you open the door and there you are faced with the guy who is always there when you ring him saying you want him (although he is usually late). And the best thing is that he has a 13 inch... Pizza. This pizza smells so good and whilst you are eating it, it is amazing. But then once it has finished, then comes the stomach cramps and sick feeling in your stomach. That feeling of regret, and wondering why your ever ate it. But whilst you were eating it you were so happy, even if you were paranoid that anyone else was going to nab a piece whilst your back was turned.
And when you look at the calories on the box you realise why you are left with a terrible taste in your mouth. You start to wonder why you never looked at this before you ordered the pizza and before you started to eat it. Because knowing what you know now, would you ever of picked up the phone? 

The truth is that you never learn from this. The pizza is the same every time, yet you always think it will be different and you won’t be left feeling like your going to vom when your taking the box to the bin.

I don’t no if anyone will understand my food comparisons, but basically, bad boys always seem amazing at first. Whilst you are going through all the excitement, you have no idea how you are going to feel when you realise he has messed you around. You feel like crap, and you need too have a lie down, and sleep it off. 

Then you have your ‘salads’ of this world. Those boys that will make you feel really good about yourself and, at the end of the day, it’s good for you and you feel healthy. The salad makes you feel great, it does everything a food should do for you, and it has no nasty side effects. But as with any healthy food, it’s good for a short time, but after a while you start to feel unfulfilled, and you need something else, something a little more exciting. And that something exciting involves lashings of full fat mayonnaise.

People always say that you need to eat healthy and avoid those cream cakes and chip cobs if possible. Have you realised that people say the exact things about relationships? ‘He’s a bad boy, avoid him’. I don’t no if it’s just me, but I have to experience and see things first hand to believe them, and how will you ever know whether you like a food unless you have tried it? Apart from ‘Salmon’ boys though, those boys are just trying to be something there not, I would never try them.

But then there is another type of food. The good and bad kind, the kind we really enjoy, but don’t get horrible side effects from. The ‘strawberry dipped in chocolate’s of this world are the best. Very tasty, slightly naughty, but yet you get all of the nutrients a fruit gives you. Now I’ve never had one of these before. I mean relationships, I have lost count of how many heavenly strawberries dipped in chocolate I have had, but as far a boy is concerned, zilch.

They always say that you need a balanced diet, a bit of good, and a bit of bad, 5 fruit and vegetables alongside a cheeky Dairy Milk once in a while. Maybe that’s what we need with men too. 

Gwyneth Paltrow (that woman is weird) says that when you have eaten to much bad food for a long period of time, to get it out of your system, you need a detox. So that’s what I’m going to do. You see I was having one of those healthy diets (Good boy) and then I got a bit bored and wanted a huge box of Maltesers (Bad Boy). So I had one. But now the thought of Maltesers repulse’s me (not the actual food kind though. Dear God No!).


If you hadn’t worked it out, ‘Lifeguard boy’ is a Dominoes pizza, so lovely at the time, but you know what, I wish I had never even looked at the menu. But that’s for another blog!


I want a Strawberry Dipped in chocolate, don’t you?







Live. Laugh. Love

Brighton

Do you ever get to that stage where all you want to do is hide away for a few days? Catch a train to the coast, and spend a few days in a B&B by the seaside? Sit in cosy little window seats in quite cafes, drinking hot chocolate while the rain is pouring down outside? Spend whole mornings eating toast and honey whilst listening to Laura Marling, Mumford & Sons and Jose Vanders? Do you ever feel like your head is all jumbled up simply because you haven’t had time to sort it out because you have been to busy to sit down and think?

Thats exactly how I feel right now, and to be honest that's the reason I haven’t been writing any blogs lately. I really haven’t had anything motivational to say - because I haven’t felt particularly motivated myself. The place where I live has finally got the better of me. I call the small village where I live 'God’s waiting room', because thats what it is; a place where people come to die. Its incredibly depressing to walk over the same field every day to 6th form, seeing the same parents dragging their kids to school, and having a constant feeling of deja vu. I sit staring at the same piece of coursework for days on end, with so much to say, but being unable to put my words into any kind of logical order. It’s so stupid, I can’t complete my own work to any kind of high standard, but I can quite easily go over someone else’s and improve it for them.

Writing this I have realised this melancholy I am feeling is because I am angry with the world. No, don’t worry, I’m not about to have a go at everyone in the world, I’m just fed up with the way this world works. I’m tired with the way people judge others when they don’t know them and criticise someones' decisions when they don’t know how they are feeling, or their whole story. I’m fed up with how people think its acceptable to treat someone like something on the bottom of their shoe because they are from a different friendship group, race, class or they happen to have done something to make themselves happy instead of someone else for a change. I’ve had enough of people who complain about everyone and everything. Yes, I get it, you have an opinion, but it’s not a nice one, so keep it to yourself please. Oh and one other thing, I cannot cope with any more people not saying 'thank you' when I hold the door open for them. I’m not saying that everyone is like this, but there’s just those few isn’t there? The people who have faces like slapped arses all the time, and make it there sole purpose in life to make everyone else around them as bitchy and as miserable as they are.

I sound incredibly unhappy with my life, don’t I? I’m not, I honestly love everything about it; my amazing friends (who have put up with a lot, and not just recently), incredibly supportive family and a little situation I have going on with someone I like to call ‘Life Guard boy’. I don’t think its anything to be ashamed of to say that you have sometimes have down days, weeks, months or (in extreme cases), years. I am incredibly grateful to say that I only ever have the occasional bad week, because I know and have heard of so many people my age with bad times that stretch over months and years. I honestly believe that if depression wasn’t considered such a taboo, there would be many more people that would seek help, to stop this terrible mental state spiraling out of control.

So tomorrow, I am going to throw some clothes in a bag and I am going to Brighton with my Mother and I’m going to go running down the promenade at sunrise, eat amazing food, go to Salsa Clubs, get a facial, sleep in all morning, drink bottles of wine and visit all of the lovely little book shops and boutiques for a total of five days. You see people in Brighton have a different kind of outlook on life that I’ve never come across anywhere else in this country. Maybe it was just the people I came across, but being there gave me a better perception on people in general. Last time I was there I was walking through the street at about 6pm and a woman walked past me and she was on the phone, but I heard her say ‘one second’ and she said to me ‘I love your dress, you look beautiful’ and she just carried on walking and I was a little bit shocked so I just shouted ‘Thanks!’. Its not only that though, one night when me and my Mother were a little bit drunk and we were walking down the promenade. There was a group of lads about 20 years old and they were playing frisbee. When my mum gets drunk, she gets like a 5 year old. The frisbee got thrown our way, and my mum grabbed the it and said she would only throw it back if she could play. It’s safe to say I was mortified. Whats worse though is that because she couldn’t see straight, she was throwing the frisbee in completely the wrong direction and then shouting ‘Where were you?! Your crap at this game’ and the lads just took it. I felt so sorry for them! But what I’m saying is, why can’t everyone be nice and get on with everyone just like that?

I suppose the world doesn’t work like that, which is a real shame to be honest. But for five whole days, I get to pretend it does.

If we get enough people to pretend that this world is like this, do you think it could be?

Why don’t we try?

Live. Laugh. Love.