All the Random Details of my Life: The Liebster Award

Let's make the most of the fact that for first time in a week I can get internet in my room and write a blog post. Yesterday my housemate Jess, the blogger behind Mismatched Knitwear, tagged me to do the Liebster Award. I have no idea who or what Liebster is, but these are the rules...

1. Include a link to the blog that tagged you.
2. Share 11 facts about yourself (11 seems like an odd number, but I'll roll with it)
3. Answer 10 questions put to you by the person who tagged you
4. Make up 10 new questions and tag some more bloggers to answer them.

Confused? I am...

11 Facts About Me

1. I have a crippling fear of cows. I don't know whether is the slow, lumbering way they move or the evil that is clearly lurking in their eyes, I am just terrified. Once, when I was younger, I was on a walk with my father when I noticed a cow lurking in the bushes. I screamed and fled and have never walked down that path again. To this day my father insists that the cow was just standing there, but clearly it was up to something malicious.
2. I am left handed. Let's just put that one out there now because I'm sick of people I've known for years randomly shrieking one day, "You're left handed? Since when?" Since birth. Let's all accept it and move on.
3. When I was born I was a jaundice baby. For those of you who don't know, jaundice is a pretty common condition in newborns that turns your baby an attractive yellow colour. The doctor told my mother to make sure I got plenty of sunlight to make it disappear faster. When I was a few days old my Nanna dropped by to check up on us, only to find my mother had left me out in the garden to bake in the noonday September sun in some kind of attempt to cook the jaundice out of me. My Nanna quickly pointed out that this was probably not what the doctor had had in mind.
4. My favourite food is Dominos. I know my dad is right when he says it tastes like cardboard, but I just can't get enough!
5. Most nights I dream about Disney World. I don't particularly spend a lot of time thinking about Disney World when I'm awake, but it somehow always manages to find a way to creep into my dreams. Usually I'm rushing to see the parade or meet Belle and recently my dream-self has spent a lot of time trying to get onto It's A Small World, which, for some reason, has an entryway so small you have to crawl through it. If any medical professionals would like to offer an opinion on what on earth is going on in my brain, please feel free.
6. I'm a godparent to both my niece and nephew. No one actually ever mentioned this to me and it was a bit of a shock when the vicar asked all the godparents to step forward. The first I knew of it was when my mother poked me in the back and hissed, "Move, that's you."
7. I don't like gravy. Go ahead and judge.
8. I love Halloween. Ever since I was little my dad made a big deal of it. It started out with him making a few creepy decorations and screwing in coloured bulbs. Eventually it got to the point where our entire house would be transformed, inside and out. One year complete strangers dropped by to take pictures of it (Halloween isn't a big deal in the UK like it is in the US...except in my house). Some of my best memories are of Halloween and now that I'm a grown up it's my job to scare Ellis and Lauren.
9. My eyes are so big that my eyelids don't cover them when I blink. I need eyedrops. Yes, I'm a freak.
10. I am pretty much always cold. There are not enough layers in the world to get me through winter in my student house and, when I'm at home, I have to put the heating on full and curl up next to the radiator while everyone else slowly melts.
11. I organise my wardrobe by colour and I am in no way ashamed of this.

Jess' Questions

1. Where did the name for your blog come from?
I don't particularly like the name of my blog. It just kind of happened. I wanted to start writing about all the random stuff that was going on in my brain and didn't have the patience to sit and think about the fundamentals of the blog itself.
2. What was the last thing you ate?
Bran Flakes. Is there a more boring food?
3. What is the weirdest thing someone has searched for to find your blog?
I always hear these great stories about the weird and wonderful keywords that can lead to your blog. Unfortunately, the only thing anyone has ever searched to find me is twentyoddball.
4.What is the first thing you do when you get up in the morning?
I'm judging myself right now, but the first thing I do is look at my phone to see if the Beacon has text me. Loser!
5. What was the last GOOD film that you watched?
I watch a lot of bad films. The other day Kirsty and I watched Boogeyman 3. I can't imagine how Boogeyman 1 and 2 proved so popular that it was necessary to make a third, but it does exist. The last good film I watched was Frozen. I loved that, Tangled, and the Princess and the Frog. Finally Disney are making good films again!
6. What was you New Year's resolution? Have you stuck to it so far?
My resolution this year was a bit of a tricky one. Basically it was to get my life together. Get more organised, spend less time in bed, get fit and healthy, stop wasting so much money and so on. I've definitely improved in some areas, but it's an ongoing process. That's how I can justify being in bed right now.
7. What is the 'go-to' song on your Ipod?
Oh Jess, why would you ask this? Generally speaking, I refuse to let my Ipod embarrass me.  I fully admit that my music tastes are...individual and varied. I'm aware that the amount of Britney Spears is probably disturbing for some people and the lack of house music or whatever annoying noise my housemates listen to probably makes me very uncool.
But I am ashamed to admit that recently my go-to song has been my 4 year old niece's favourite, LOL by Isabella Barrett and Eden Wood. I need to link the video so you can see why it grieves me, but be warned. It will be stuck in your head forever.

8. If you could pass 1 law right now, what would it be?
Twentyoddball is not the place we go to to talk politics so I'm not going to give this much serious thought. I do think they should ban airbrushing because if you've seen that weird gif that's going around the internet of a model being 'touched up' you'll know how freaky it all is.

9. What is your proudest achievement?
Tough question! Probably winning a Blue Peter badge. My dad used to tell me that when he was little he'd always wanted one. I didn't tell anyone I was submitting anything and when I won and they sent me the badge I felt so proud that I could give it to my dad and he could finally have his own. He still has it framed in his bedroom.
10. Tell us an embarrassing story.
My life is just a series of embarrassing stories! Where to even begin?
When I was in my first year of uni I lived at the bottom of Cardiac Hill, which, if you can imagine, if even worse than it sounds. One day I had a 9am seminar (boo!) and I hadn't felt too great when I first got up. But I ate some breakfast, packed my bag, and made my way up the hill. Then I got to the top...and collapsed. No one seemed particularly bothered about my being sprawled on the grass with by head in my bag, but I did get a few funny looks when I came to and had to lay on the floor for 15 minutes before I could walk back home. I did not enjoy that.

Ok, so now I have to tag some bloggers to answer some questions of my choosing (all of which will probably be totally bizarre).
So Bethan Jane and Ashleigh, it's all on you.

1. What's at the top of your wishlist right now?
2. What was your most ridiculous hairstyle?
3. What would be your plan of action in a zombie apocalypse?
4. What's your signature dish?
5. What was the most random thing that happened in 2013?
6. Do you still sleep with a teddy? (I won't deny that I am guilty of this)
7. If you had to be a Muppet, which Muppet would you be?
8. What has been your best ever bargain?
9. What is your weird food addiction?
10. What is the worst item of clothing/outfit you own?

So there we are Liebster, whoever you are. I hope that's done to your satisfaction.

The Ramblings of a Loon

So I've been back in Exeter for 2 weeks and I haven't had anything really interesting to blog about. Yes there was the kidney infection, the exam drama, the sitting on the kitchen floor drinking with my house-mates, and a few other oddities, but nothing worth sharing with the world. 2014 has not gone off with a bang. So, you lucky people, because I can't stand the thought of remaining silent, even when I have nothing to talk about, I'm going to give you a review of the week. No major catastrophes or humiliations, but just the casual awkwardness of my day to day life and all the weird things that go through my head.

So, for the first half of the week I was a model student. I had an essay due in on Thursday so I spent Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday reading anything I could get my hands on to do with the representation of the family in Dickens. (Party on!) That gave me the whole of Wednesday to write the essay, which was all well and good until I couldn't get Microsoft Word to work on my new laptop and had to camp out on campus for 6 hours, buried under a pile of colour-coded notes. After 4 hours Kirsty came to check that I was still sane, took me for a coffee to ensure that I still had full function of my legs, and then returned me to the library to finish off my last 1000 words. By that point the English language had lost all meaning and I had to sit with my head on the desk for 10 minutes before I could conjure up the word 'overtly'.

You know the week hasn't been the
best when you see this in the mirror.

That night, to celebrate, I drank wine in my pjs with Kirsty and our friend Clare. We gossiped about boys, uni, and discussed Catholicism. As you do. There was a feast of raw cookie dough, which probably undid any of the good I'd done munching on organic, low fat rice cakes all week. 

On Friday I had my first seminar of 2014. (Let's all sit around and argue about whether or not Emily Dickinson was just an overrated maniac.) Last term I had to take a compulsory module, which was horrendous. They don't count it as compulsory because they give you the choice of 3: bad, worse, and one so awful I'd rather sit in a room with Sylvia Plath for 12 hours, discussing the joys of life.

But this term I'm studying Gothic Evolutions. It's all things dark and creepy and I have somehow regressed to my 10 year old nerdy self, hauled up with a pile of books in my room and eager to do my homework. I'm also doing my dissertation this term, which is about as terrifying as Gothic Evolutions is interesting. I somehow have to force 8,000 words out of my brain and onto paper in the form of an intellectual discussion on something that the university library shelves would suggest no one has ever written on. There's a whole separate library dedicated to law, but try and find a book about the Antebellum South and you'll quickly find you're out of luck.

On Friday night Kirsty, Clare and I went to Bella Italia, where I convinced myself that opting for a low-fat main course justified me getting garlic bread, 2 cocktails and an enormous slab of cake. I must admit though, even I thought I was pushing the calorie intake boundaries a bit when I went out for dinner again last night to celebrate our house-mate's birthday. For the first time in my life I was genuinely considering opting for a salad until we got to Urban Burger, where the only thing on the menu is...burgers. That said, I have spent the majority of the week unable to negotiate stairs because I've been trying to stick to my new workout DVD, which has left me with little use of my thighs and a constant aching in my bum. I intend to write a post about it when the 30 day challenge is over. That way, if I can finally fit into my Daisy Dukes by the end I can recommend it as a miracle DVD and if not at least people can look at the pictures I've been taking as I progress, and laugh at how big my butt looks.

In other news regarding this mundane old week, I've finally gotten around to listening to Britney Spears' new album, Britney Jean. It seemed only right that I should have it for Christmas seeing as I have all the others and regularly insist on listening to Hit Me Baby One More Time on full blast in my car. But even I, blindly dedicated fan that I am, can't get on board with this weird new accent she keeps putting on. If Dick Van Dyke ever taught us anything it's that the Americans should leave the British accent well alone. 

Then Kirsty introduced me to Secrets of the Living Dolls, which she found on 4od. It basically follows the lives of men who like to dress up...not as women exactly, but plastic dolls. It's apparently becoming the new big thing, which I find slightly concerning. It's not that I necessarily object to people dressing how they want, but instead of make up they wear rubber masks and, being personally terrified of masks, I don't feel I can entirely get on board with the idea of masked men in body suits casually roaming the aisles of Tesco. I had to sleep with a night light after I watched it. But for those of you like Kirsty and myself who love a ridiculous Channel 4 'documentary', this one is...an eye opener.

And now we've come full circle. It's Sunday afternoon and I'm back in the library, trying to find anything vaguely related to Gone with the Wind. I'm just hoping next week is a bit more lively or you'll just have to put up with another post about the mundane goings on of my boring week. Fingers crossed, eh?
  

The Beacon in Wales: Part 2

I didn't intend to keep you in suspense for so long, but this week has been challenging to say the least. We aren't even a month into 2014 and I've been hit with a kidney infection, the horror of navigating the university mitigation process, some kind of strange stress induced rash on my hands, and, when all was said and done, I was too ill to sit the exam anyway. Now I'll have to come all the way back up to Exeter in August to sit it. As you can imagine, I'm currently writing this through the haze of last night's Scotch. I cried, I drank, I watched Mulan, and now I feel somewhat better.

"Why did I agree to come here?"

Anyway, this is not going to be a 'woe is me' post. This is picking up from where I left off in my last post. The Beacon and I had checked out of our hotel and were heading to my parents' house in Port Talbot. One of the striking things about approaching from Port Talbot from the east is that the first thing you're hit with is the sight of the steelworks. Unless, that is, you are hit with the smell first. For anyone who lives there it's a strangely comforting sight. "Yes! Home at last." For everyone else it must be slightly disturbing. "Why did I agree to come here?"

The Beacon only said that it was strange that people lived right next door to it. And right next door to the motorway. And in houses that seemed to be built practically on top of one another. In Wales our houses are generally small and squashed together. We're only a teeny tiny country after all.

Once the Beacon had been introduced to my parents and shown to the 'spare room' (which is so small that once he put his suitcase in there all the floor space vanished), we sat down in the living room and my parents tried to give off an air of normality. My mother was talking in her telephone voice so the Beacon would have half a chance of deciphering her accent.

That evening we went to the local pub, the Tyn y Twr, or 'tiny tour' if you're the Beacon. It was there that the Beacon first met my brother.
"Bonjour!"
Great, he's drunk.
I had to later assure the Beacon that it wasn't just the accent. In fact, none of us had understood very much of what he'd said. But such is the beauty of New Year I guess.

"we were very cultured"

The next day we were very cultured and went to the Penderyn Distillery for a tour of Wales' only distillery. I would highly recommend it. It was cheap to get in, it was interesting, the staff were lovely (obviously, they were Welsh) and the free samples at the end were in no way stingy. The only downside was the Beacon constantly asking me to translate the Welsh signs into English, despite the fact that there was already an English translation printed below. And I haven't spoken Welsh since I finished school. My brain didn't seem to understand what I was trying to make it do.

We were intending to continue along the cultural side of things the next day, but the mine in The Big Pit was under construction and it was too wet, windy, and cold to venture to St Fagans so we went to see the new Disney film, Frozen, instead. Not particularly Welsh admittedly, but it was so great. Even though we were the oldest people there. And the bad weather had messed with the ventilation systems in the cinema. I'm sure the cold would have been more bearable if we weren't watching a film about snow. As it was, even with my coat and scarf on, I felt like I had somehow become part of the film.

That night my parents threw a party. There was no way they could convincingly disguise the fact that it was in fact an excuse for my entire nosy family to meet the Beacon up close and personal, but he handled it very well. Even when my mother's friend got drunk and told him she loved him...4 times. And when my niece wrapped herself around his leg and refused to let go. It takes a special kind of person to make it through these kinds of family functions with their sanity still in tact. I barely made it myself, having to crawl into bed at 3am while my auntie and the Beacon continued to discuss why the Americans consider the Brits rude and why we, in turn, perceive them as slightly crazy.

The next day was questionably even stranger. We visited my brother's house, where my niece, still at the height of her affections, would not let the Beacon out of her sight and randomly adopted an American accent. Then of course, she donned her Toddlers and Tiaras dress I made her for Christmas and danced to Eden Wood songs for 20 minutes, insisting that we "keep watching" and "act surprised".

That night we went to Cinnamon, which is a fairly new Indian restaurant near where I live. The food is amazing and it would have been nice to take a romantic stroll along the seafront afterwards. As is was, we valued our lives too much. The weather was like something out of The Day After Tomorrow. So we just headed home.

And all too quickly came Sunday 5am and a trip back to Bristol airport. Luckily this time my father drove, but the Beacon refused to let me sleep on his shoulder. He said I should get used to early mornings. I am not willing to even count 5am as morning. It was still dark.

I can't say I miss being woken up at 9am by the Beacon shouting in my face to see how much he can make me jump. Or the annoying way he pronounces aluminium. Or the criticisms on my cooking (my toast was perfectly fine, thank you very much). Or the crowd we seemed to attract every time we left the house ("Oh, is this the American we've heard so much about?"). But I do miss the Beacon. And watching the amusing way my niece followed him all over the house. But, next time I guess, is Germany.

The Beacon in Wales: Part 1.

It's 2014! In the immortal words of Abba, 'happy New Year! May we all have our hopes, our will to try. If we don't we may as well lay down and die.' Uplifting.

"I spent the countdown to 2014 with the Beacon."

Usually I'm not a big fan of New Year, partly because it's the most expensive night out of the year and partly because it is the official marker for when I have to stop stuffing my face with leftover Christmas chocolate. But I spent the countdown to 2014 with the Beacon and a room full of people over the age of 50, which, weird as it may have been, was pretty fantastic.

Yes, the Beacon came to stay with me in my parents' house over New Year, and yes, there was drama before he even managed to step foot in the country. He was meant to fly into Bristol on the 30th, which was also his birthday, but due to delays he missed his connection and ended up stranded in Amsterdam overnight. I'm sure there are worse places for a man to spend his birthday. ("Birthday or not, no prostitutes sweetie.") I'd booked us a hotel in Bristol as his birthday present and, after eventually deciding better of turning up by myself and getting hammered in the room by myself, I spent my evening pouting under a blanket. The only plus side was that my mother felt sorry for me and bought me a pizza.

Since the last time I was home, my 2001 Ford KA has gotten mysteriously moldy on the inside, and hopping into it at 6:15am to drive to the airport before the sun was up or I had mustered the strength to apply mascara was a challenge. But I stuck to the usual early morning driving routine. Stick Collin the SAT-NAV on and argue with him the entire way between singing at the top of my voice to keep myself awake. And despite the fact that the weather was practically apocalyptic, I made it.

I decided to take the Beacon into Cardiff so he could see the capital city of Wales. In fact, I generously gave him a scenic tour because I got lost trying to find a car park and we drove around in circles for over an hour. He only found the Millennium Stadium impressive the first 2 times we drove past it. That said, he was very excited when he spotted Glam, having watched the entire second season of MTV's The Valleys. When we finally parked, I was in charge of choosing somewhere to eat lunch so naturally we ended up in that traditional Welsh institution...T.G.I Friday's. The Beacon soon got over his initial objections after knocking back a few house cocktails. In fact he ended up completely hammered, mumbling about how creepy the dolls in the Disney Store were. It wasn't even midday at this point.

We had booked to spend New Year in Bryn Meadows, a posh hotel in Caerphilly with a golf course, a spa, a pool, a bed big enough for the Beacon to escape from my cwtches during the night, and a TV in the bathroom. It was beautiful! And so, after getting out of the torrential rain, and dumping our bags down we did what any star-crossed lovers kept apart by the British Channel would do when finally alone. We napped until it was time to get ready for the New Year party.

After surveying our fellow guests and feeling an initial concern that we would be the only people under the age of 60, we made our way through the free champagne and canapes. The Beacon had no idea what the word canape meant and even if he had he couldn't understand a word any of the waitresses said anyway.
"Would you like a canape?"
"Sorry, what was that?"
"Do you want any canapes?"
"Wait...what?"
"Do you want canapes?"
"I'm sorry..."
"Canapes!" I broke in. "It's tiny food!"

Looking back, the canapes were probably a bad idea considering they were followed up by a 7 course meal. In the end it was almost painful.

1. Salmon with little pieces of bread and salad.

"They were in fact sugar cubes."

2. Mushroom soup - this one sticks in my mind the most because once I'd eaten all of my croutons I took a handful from a bowl in the middle of the table. They were in fact sugar cubes. I made some very interesting faces during that discovery.
3. For some reason neither of us could remember what this was. Maybe we were so full at the end that we started repressing the memories.
4. Haggis with mashed swede and potato. This was my favourite course so it's a good thing I didn't ask the waitress what it was until I had finished it because there is no way I would have knowingly shoveled innards into my mouth.
5. Steak with side plates of vegetables and potatoes. By this point I was starting to feel overwhelmed.
6. Chocolate brownies with clotted cream.
6.5. Casual plate of chocolate covered fruit slices because obviously 7 courses wasn't enough and we needed this little extra in between.
7. The cheese platter. I couldn't even bring myself to look at it. I had been well and truly defeated by the sheer overwhelming amount of food.

As I had a feeling it would be slightly inappropriate to just collapse across the table in a food comma in such a classy establishment, I attempted to dance it off. Second bad idea of the night (well, third if you count the crouton/sugar cube fandango). A good life tip is to never follow up 7 courses of food with any kind of fast movements. Before we even reached 11pm the Beacon and I were sprawled out in the lobby while people 3 times our age who had clearly never heard of the likes of Robin Thicke, were up dancing to the greatest hits of 2013.

Unable to keep up with the pace of our fellow guests, we made friends with the staff. What I mean by that is that the teenage waitresses all but collapsed at the Beacon's feet and practically fell over each other to laugh at his jokes. The Beacon put it down to his 'charming' American accent. Clearly it had nothing to do with the fact that he's 6 foot tall, gorgeous, and was the only man in the room under the age of 40.

"No celebration is complete without a ridiculous hat."

And so I spent the first few minutes of 2014 dancing with the Beacon and pretending to know the words to Auld Lang Syne whilst wearing a ridiculous hat. No celebration is complete without a ridiculous hat. It was a far cry from the way I ushered in 2013, outside Shaun's father's house, banging a saucepan with a wooden spoon while Jordan David ran around the street in nothing but his boxers. Some might say that this New Year was a somewhat classier affair.

But by 12:30am the early morning, seemingly endless drive through Cardiff, devouring of somewhere in the region of 1 million calories, and dancing like loons to the Motown supermix, had left us exhausted. I am not even ashamed that the oldies were still shaking it out on the dance floor while I was in tucked up in my reindeer pjs. In honesty, I am slightly ashamed that, despite our early night, we still managed to sleep through our complimentary breakfast. Slightly ashamed, but in no way surprised.

From Caerphilly we headed to my hometown of Port Talbot, where by this point, the Beacon-related hype had spread so far around town, that I wouldn't have been too surprised if we had been greeted by the mayor. But before the Beacon could do his meet and greets with the ever-growing list of people desperate to catch a glimpse of this mysterious American, he had to meet my crazy family...