Life After the Dissertation

I've been back in Exeter for an entire week now and I have the dwindling bank balance and bags under my eyes to prove it. There has been an abundance of cocktails, many bad life choices (I have no idea why I insist on taking advice from strangers I meet in the girls' toilets) and many days like today, curled up in my bed of shame, watching 'Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse' on my brother's Netflix account.

But, while many of my post-dissertation celebrations have involved tacky, overpriced Exeter night clubs and hidden hip-flasks, my housemates and I have found other forms of entertainment over the last few days. Of course, when you live in Devon it's sometimes necessary to think outside the box. The most exciting thing we could find within an hour's drive was a hedgehog hospital, which, if anything, would surely make for a very depressing day out. So, when we decided to seek out fun on Tuesday it was...varied.

"...our cultural adventure..."

I was forced out of my bed of pain at an unearthly hour to go to Brody's all you can eat breakfast buffet. Usually I'm not a big fan of buffets (or salad bars for that matter), but I loved it! Up until the point where I'd eaten so much that it hurt to breathe. It wasn't quite on par with the breakfast buffet I had in Florida (then again, does anyone really need ice-cream for breakfast?), but it was delicious. There is no such thing as too many pancakes.

After a brief time of resting my head on the table with a glazed stare, too full to move or communicate in any way, we headed across the road to the Royal Albert Memorial Museum. I can't say I learned a great deal, but they had costumes to try on and mosaics to play with so it was a big hit with everyone. I particularly enjoyed the World Cultures exhibition, which was a bit like being on the It's a Small World ride in Disneyland. But without the boat. Or the cool music.

When our cultural adventure was over we decided the logical thing to do next was to splurge on white clothing to take home and tie-dye! Let me just say, I had no idea Primark pants was so large. I now have four pairs of enormous tie-dyed knickers, which really aren't in any way as cool as I'd envisioned.

What a great way to pass an afternoon though! Yes, Jess may have dipped her hand into the bucket of purple dye without her glove on and stained her fingers. Yes, we may have forgotten to take the clothes off the washing line before the rain started and made all the dye run. And yes, to anyone walking past our conversations on why whites are easier to work with than blacks may have sounded like the ravings of a group of racists rather than the innocent discussions of a merry band of crafters with fabric dye. But now I have a new skill, some unique t-shirts and some hideous giant pants. Overall I'd call that a success.

I'm glad I have housemates who enjoy a day of trying on ridiculous hats and flicking dye onto pillowcases. How boring it must be to be normal! 

Rumour has it next week we're going to paint mugs!

My Life is no Fairytale...Yet

I'm back in Exeter, patiently waiting for my housemates to finish their exams and doing my utmost not to run into their study area with a bottle of tequila and demand someone entertains me. Instead, I've spent my afternoon looking up a half-decent questions tag for my blog (note to whoever writes these, 'what do you order at Starbucks?' is not an interesting or enlightening question). Eventually I found the fairytale tag and, as I am on board with anything Disney-related, I've spent my time typing away at this and avoiding housework. After all, I'm not Cinderella. 

"I am on board with anything Disney-related"

Snow White - Do you consider yourself beautiful?

There are some variables to consider here. For instance, am I wearing make up? Did I just wake up? Am I sober? Sometimes I can look in the mirror and think, "Oh wow! I look great!" but I'm always treading the line between Beauty and the Beast and you never know which way it's going to go.

Sleeping Beauty - How many hours do you sleep at night?

Somewhere in the region of 10-12 hours a night, which is slightly excessive.

Cinderella - Do you have a curfew?

It would be rather ludicrous for my parents to officially implement a curfew now that I'm 22 years years old, have been living alone on and off for three years and have proven myself to be an upstanding member of society (most of the time). They always know exactly when I return home anyway because I've usually forgotten my keys and have to wake them up to let me in. I'm a joy to live with all round. 

Rapunzel - Do you love being outside?

"I'm always treading the line between
Beauty and the Beast"

I'm no hiker if that's where we're going with this. I have hayfever, I'm allergic to insect bites and camping is my idea of the ultimate torture. In a world where you can get a room in the Premier Inn for £20, why would you choose to sleep outside on the floor? But I'm more than happy to be outside if it's on a beach. A warm beach. A warm beach with men who bring me cocktails. 

Red Riding Hood - Do you trust strangers easily?

Unfortunately yes. There was the time Kirsty found me making friends with a large group of Iranian men who were giving away free champagne. Then there was the time Hayleigh and I agreed to follow a group of army officers in posh suits back to an after party in the Grand Hotel. (Free gin? Why not?) And who could forget the incident in Venice when I led my friends into a wine cellar because the waiter told me he owned it? And that he had a gondola. 

The Wolf and The Seven Young Kids - Are you easy to fool?

See the above story concerning the man with the gondola who, in hindsight, had so obviously illegally broken into that wine cellar. 

The Little Mermaid - What would you sacrifice for love?

I'm a true romantic. That said, I don't think I would ever willingly give up my voice the way The Little Mermaid did. I'm sure there are many people who wish I would, but it would take a seriously amazing man to convince me to shut up for more than five minutes. However, there's plenty I would give up. I'd move away, I'd spend all my money, I'd set aside my plans...I wouldn't give up my shoes, though. That's not negotiable. 

The Frog King - What do you find disgusting?

There are many things I find disgusting, but what instantly pops to mind (probably due to some recent escapades) is the decline of chivalry. Call me sexist (I'm sure you will), but there is nothing more disgusting to me than a man who pushes past a woman in a queue, allows a door to slam in her face, or dashes for the last seat on the train and lets a girl stand. If this is progress, hand me an apron and count me out.

Jack and the Beanstalk - What plants do you have?

None. I have an excessive amount of mould growing in my bedroom in Exeter if that counts?

Puss in Boots - Do you have pets? If not, do you want them?

I have no pets. I have no desire to get pets. And I do not appreciate pet owners trying to force me to love their pets. You may see it as some kind of small child with fur, but I wouldn't take kindly to your real children slobbering over me and I don't appreciate it from the dog either.

Pinocchio - What is your biggest wish?

I've got my fingers crossed for a miracle. My nephew has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, which is a progressive muscle-wasting disease. My biggest wish is for a cure. 
Yeah, I know, way to darken the mood.

Peter Pan - What is your mental age?

My mother calls me childish. I prefer to think of it as a youthful inner glow. After spending some time at home I realised just how much I have in common with my niece. We love the same films, I envy her amazing pink dresses, we discuss Barbie at length. So, from that, I would put my mental age at four. No. Four and a half.

"We discuss Barbie at length..."

The Star Money - What is your most valuable possession?

I have some fancy mod-cons, I have my cute little car, and, when my Nanna was alive, she used to buy me expensive earrings (which I am too terrified to wear). But I'm very sentimental. My most treasured possession would be something left behind by my grandparents, photos of me when I was tiny and adorable, or the weird gifts my niece and nephew get me.

The Princess and the Pea - Are you sensitive?

Yes. I especially react badly to being shouted at. My neighbour shouted at me a couple of weeks ago and I cried for four hours. That probably had more to do with the fact that my dissertation was due in a few days later and I hadn't slept in nights, but, either way, I am still slightly terrified of him.

Bluebeard - What is your weak point?
Chocolate cake. That counts, right?

So there are some random insights into my life based on beloved children's stories...and some stories that I've never heard of in my life. Now all I can think about is chocolate cake so I'm probably going to have to buy some. Seriously, I'll never be fairest of them all if I'm popping out of my jeans.

You Should All Totally Nominate Me!

If my humiliation has ever brought a smile to your face, if reading my posts has ever been a part of your procrastination, or if my ridiculous advice has ever aided you in life, then I now call on you to return to favour!

Nominations are open for the Cosmopolitan Blog Awards and I really need as many nominations as I can get so I have a chance of making it to the short list. You know you want to see me don a pair of killer heels and make a fool of myself at a major press covered event. My blog is under 12 months old so you can nominate me for best newcomer.

Here. Just follow this link...

Best Newcomer!

And then just enter my URL (www.twentyoddball.blogspot.co.uk), tell Cosmo you love me, and click enter. Less than two minutes.

I'm openly begging for nominations here! And probably will continue to do so until the deadline is up.

Can you honestly say no to this face?

Nil Pois and an Excessive Amount of Wandering

My favourite way to spend Eurovision night is sat in front of the tv with my dad, arguing over whether or not half the countries even exist and resorting to pulling out the atlas, which never settles anything because it's so old it still has the USSR in it. I will expose my worrying lack of geographical awareness ("Wait, I thought Belgium was the capital of Holland...") and we will give a running commentary on everything...including the running commentary.

This year was different. My friend, Shaun, was hosting a fundraiser so I spent this Eurovision night in the local golf club, taking part in a drinking game that rendered me useless before half the performances had happened. Drink every time someone winks at the camera, there's someone on stage doing something pointless in the background, Russia gives points to the Ukraine...it was intense.

So I wasn't surprised when I ended up in a taxi on the way to Swansea at half past midnight. I was in no way shocked when I found myself having an in-depth and weirdly emotional conversation in the women's toilets about a girl's choice of lipstick colour. I wasn't even flummoxed when I looked up from my Jack Daniel's to find all my friends had been kicked out of Bambu. But I still can't grasp how I came to end up in the smoking area of Monkey, consoling a random man about his recent breakup. But here are the facts as I know them.

I had, in front of me, a free drink. (Note to my mother, yes I watched the bar tender pour it and no I did not take my eyes off it for a second.) To my left was a good-looking man who, from the outset, appeared to be somewhat of a compulsive liar.
"I work here." He said. It was entirely plausible.
"Oh, at the bar?"
"No, I'm a bouncer."
I tried to remember which shoes I was wearing so I could do a quick calculation of how tall he was. Not very.
"Oh, you don't look big and bald and scary enough to be a bouncer."
He laughed it off. Later I found out he was a promotions worker.

Nonetheless, we had a good time. Then I realised that the club was closing and everyone else was missing. There was, at the back of my mind, a vague memory of a search party going after Jonny and Hayleigh walking past me, telling me they'd been told to leave. Even now, I have no idea what any of that meant, but I knew then that they'd gone to Monkey. Whatever that was.

"You have to take me to Monkey." I told Mr Bouncer.
His friends did not look impressed. One of them had just broken up with his girlfriend and looked like he'd rather chew his own arm off than go to another club. 
"I have no idea where it is and I can't go wandering around Swansea on my own."

So we headed off. Me, Mr Bouncer, Mr Heartbroken and...some other guy. It wasn't until we got to Monkey that he earned himself the nickname Mr Forgot-my-ID. And so, following a barrage of complex conversations and assurances, I ended up in the smoking area with Mr Heartbroken, leaving angry and probably very confusing messages on each of my friends' answering machines. From here things went from unusual to plain weird.

There I was, giving my best drunk love advice to a stranger who clearly wanted to be anywhere else, waiting for some sign of any of my friends or even Mr Bouncer, when a random man sat down on the other side of me. He explained, in great detail, that it was his birthday and he was all alone and in need of a friend. As much as my sensitive heart felt sorry for him, he gave off a bit of a crazy vibe. I looked to Mr Heartbroken to do something, but he seemed too relieved by the fact that I was no longer lecturing him on the downfall of chivalry to shoo away this new guy.

Luckily, all at once, a very odd phone call from Hayleigh confirmed they had somehow made their way down to a gay club I'd never heard of, and Mr Bouncer arrived.
"You have to take me to the gay club." I told him.
"What?"
"My friends are there and I have no idea where it is."
Suddenly the birthday boy piped up and offered to take me.
"No offence," Said Mr Bouncer. "But I don't know who you are and I don't feel comfortable sending her off alone with you." I didn't point out the fact that I'd only met him two hours before.

I very rarely get hit on and, when I do, it throws me a little bit. So try to imagine how awkward it was, heading off to a gay club with a man on either side of me, vying for my attention.
"I just bought a new car."
"I have a convertible."
"I take three holidays a year."
"I'm going to China this summer."
Oh goodness, I just want Hayleigh!

Right in the midst of what was becoming an intense struggle for alpha male status, I spotted my friends on the other side of the street. I'm not entirely sure they'd even noticed I'd been missing for the past few hours. They all seemed very merry.

So I thanked my escorts, who were still quibbling about who could out-do the other, apologised for the drama I'd caused and jumped in a taxi with Hayleigh. The moral of this story is...don't get lost. And if you do, don't try to give love advice to strangers. Always carry a rape alarm. And don't believe a man when he tells you he's a bouncer. If your friends go missing, check the gay bar first and always, always wear a good shade of lipstick.

I guess next year I'll just stay at home with my dad and the old atlas.

Prepare Yourselves for Food Envy: Pizza Express Review!

It seems like it's been a good while since I wrote my last post so I apologise to those of you who use this blog as a means of procrastination. I know there are quite a lot of you. I get stopped by drunken people I I've never met before in Timepiece and Arena who tell me my blog posts are their favourite distraction from revision or dissertation writing, which I love. It's kind of like being a really low grade celebrity. In a really low grade club. But then they ask me about the Beacon and I have to explain my break up story to someone I've never met before when I'm half a bottle of whisky worse off than I probably should be. I don't know what it is about the queue in the women's bathroom, but I always get into the most in-depth conversations with people.

Anyway, on a less irrelevant note, I got an email from someone at Pizza Express a few weeks ago, inviting me to go and sample their new lunch menu and write up a review on it. So, I made time in my crazy schedule, jam-packed as it is with dissertation-writing and napping, to stuff my face. I know, I know, my life's a chore.

I invited Hayleigh to come along with me. She was impressed with my promotion to official-one-day-pizza-sampler.

"They invited you to sample the menu? Wow! Your blog is practically a real job!" 

"I would totally do a full-time job that paid me in pizza" I told her. "...I just don't think my mother would accept rent in edible form."

So we headed over to the Swansea Pizza Express on Friday. Despite my sordid love-affair with pizza, I'd never been to Pizza Express so the review that follows is my honest opinion from the point of view of a brand new customer. 

Firstly, I want to admit that I went there with every intention of making healthy choices. What with my new diet, training for the 5k, and bikini season lurking on the horizon, I've actually been converted into a salad-eater of late. I'm never going to be particularly enthusiastic about carrot sticks, but I'm trying my best to make good choices. And really, there was no excuse for me not to be healthy because the lunch menu has all kinds of salads and soups. But I caved and had a pizza. And dough-balls. And a chocolate fudge cake. 

But first, let me start by saying that I really liked the place itself. It wasn't at all what I expected of a pizza restaurant. I'm not entirely sure what I did expect, but the picture I had in my head wasn't nearly as nice. Plus they had a bar stocked with Jack Daniels. I'm quick to notice the most important things first. Overall, great first impression.

Our waiter was friendly, (albeit probably a little confused by the obsessive way I was making notes) and the food came quickly. And now I will attempt to describe how delicious my pizza was. I had the Pollo ad Astra, which was just a little spicy and entirely yummy. It was the perfect size for lunchtime and the base was thin and crispy and...I just want another one right now. Like I said, I'm a pizza lover. It's my favourite food. So when I hold my hands up and say a pizza was particularly scrumptious, I have a lot of experience to back that up. I also had dough-balls on the side on Hayleigh's recommendation, which were nice. 

Hayleigh, on the other hand, actually was healthy and went for the Leggera Superfood Salad, which she said was lovely. Looking back, I should have tried some, partly for a more well-rounded review and partly because I had a little food envy. I actually looked like a meal rather than a plate of leaves, which, let's face it, is a big deal for a salad.  

"absolutely, bring on the cake"

When we had scraped our plates (literally) our waiter came over to clear everything away.

"Would you like to review the desert menu too?" He asked.

The answer to that question was and will always be, 'absolutely, bring on the cake'.

Cue me making my way through a generous slab of chocolate fudge cake with ice cream. It It was well worth however many million calories I had to go and burn off afterwards. Hayleigh had the cheese cake (again, why did I not steal it off her plate for the good of the review?) which looked delicious. She had nothing but good things to say about it. And, yet again, we both ate every mouthful. Walking back to the car I was so full I literally had cramp in my side.
was...perfect. I really think I can honestly say it was the best chocolate fudge cake I've ever had (and, trust me, there have been many servings of chocolate fudge cake in my life). It wasn't heavy or sickly like some of them can be.

So I give the new Pizza Express lunch time menu two very enthusiastic thumbs up. I was surprised at the prices considering how tasty the food is and how decent the portion sizes are. Hayleigh and I will definitely be making another trip. Maybe next time we'll dip into the Jack Daniels too.

Check out the menu for yourself!