Monthly Musings: September!

Do you ever have one of those months that just feels like a brick in the face? That was how September was for me. Don't get me wrong, it was a great month. My birthday is in September and I got a new job, I finally managed to catch up on Game of Thrones (although I have no idea what I'm meant to do with my life until the next season comes out!) and the weather was uncharacteristically pleasant.   

But boy was it intense! One minute it was the first week of the month and I was happily knocking back Jack Daniels and blowing out birthday candles and now all of a sudden it's October and I've somehow become a sleep-deprived business woman who can barely account for the last three weeks of her life. 

But, whether I can make sense of it or not, September is over and it's time for some monthly musings!

Obsession of the month...

This month I have been obsessively listening to Charlie Puth and Meghan Trainor's new song, 'Marvin Gaye'. On repeat. Sometimes for hours on end. Of the 73 million views the video has had on Youtube, 10,000 or so of them are probably mine. Yes I'm aware that I could just download the song on Itunes, but that would be far too logical. That's simply not how I roll.

Accomplishment of the month...

This month my greatest accomplishment was getting myself a fancy new grown up job, which involves wearing blouses, pretending I know how to use an Ipad, and occasionally popping into London and getting utterly lost on the Tube. I never thought I'd end up in the corporate world (being more into rainbows and smiles than pie charts and firm handshakes) but I guess that's the beauty of my bizarre little life. There is absolutely no knowing where I'll end up next.

Thing I am most ashamed of this month...

As part of my fancy new job I got a fancy new company car. The low point of the month was definitely getting stuck outside Dominos Pizza for 15 minutes because I couldn't work out how to put the car into reverse. #epicfail

Book of the month...

The book I've been slowly but surely working my way through this month (and will no doubt be working my way through for a good few months to come) is Middlemarch by George Eliot. Now don't get me wrong, I love Victorian novels. I don't mind getting entangled in the enormous descriptive passages or trying to keep tabs on the seemingly never-ending cast of characters (yes, Dickens, that one was aimed at you). But so far Middelmarch hasn't really grabbed my attention and the next 636 are looking pretty daunting right now. Wish me luck.

Youtuber of the month...

I've been subscribed to Stepanka for a long time now, but for the last few weeks I've been binge-watching her videos like some kind of weird stalker. Maybe I find comfort in knowing there's someone out there who seems to end up in as many random and bizarre circumstances as I do. But if you enjoy my weird and wonderful annecdotes then you'll probably love her channel.

Things ticked off The 2015 List...

An accurate depiction of how I currently look/feel

This month I continued the theme of accomplishing absolutely nothing on The 2015 List. I'm nothing if not consistent after all.

Next month I will aim to...

Fit in some time to sleep! This month has been so hectic that the bags under my eyes have become a permanent feature, so deeply engrained that there's not enough concealer in the world to help me. Trust me, I've already gone through a whole bottle!

Bethan's Birthday Bowling Bonanza (and other B words)

This week my friend, Bethan, turned 23. The same Bethan I travelled Europe with. The Bethan who got head-butted by a horse in Berlin, forced a drunken Irish man to take off his top and bench-press a keg in a nightclub in Prague, and is always my first choice for karaoke partner. Yes, that's the one.

To celebrate we went bowling. It's difficult to say which of us is the worst at bowling. Bushell seems to score quite highly. but that's only because we keep the rails up and he ricochets the balls off them. Hayleigh is particularly good at aiming her ball at small spaces where there are no pins to knock down. For my part, I repeatedly start off well, all strikes and spares, only to totally lose all control of my arms during the second half of the game, sending the bowling balls off in weird directions and eventually coming last out of everyone.

Actually, as far as the first game goes, I blame my failure purely on the garlic bread I was eating. I was too afraid to set it down when my turn came around in case one of my friends ate it or hid it somewhere weird so I took it along with me.  Unfortunately my brain couldn't grasp the idea that my right hand needed to release what it was holding (the bowling ball) whilst my left hand needed to keep a firm grip on what it was holding (the garlic bread) so I ended up throwing them both.

Naturally, as it was a celebratory occasion, we had some drinks. We each had one free drink as part of our package (along with chicken nuggets, burgers, fries, and all kind of glorious junk food) and, when I went to the bar to get my second I asked the barman, "What would be the difference between a Bells and a Jack Daniels?" (Look at me, being all frugal!)
The barman misunderstood, thinking I meant, what's the difference between these two different kinds of whiskeys. Really? I was wearing a Jack Daniels t-shirt and cowboy boots. This girl knows her whisky!
"No," I said. "I mean, the difference in price."

I did not add, "Anyone with taste-buds would know Bells is a scotch, while Jack Daniels is a Tennessee sour mash, most comparable to a bourbon."
As it turns out they were the same price (when does that ever happen?) so no prizes for guessing which I opted for.

When bowling was over (needless to say I lost both games) we went on an adventure. Or rather, we almost went on an adventure. We drove out to an old abandoned police station, sat in the cars discussing whether or not to go in, and eventually decided it was way too scary and drove away again.

But, creepy-horror-movie-type moment aside, it was a really fun evening. The only thing that could have possibly made it better is karaoke (although I don't know many places that combine bowling and karaoke). So happy birthday Bethan! Here's hoping you don't get too drunk this weekend.

24 Hours of Fancy

If three years in Exeter taught me anything about myself it's that I am not a fancy person. I drink Blossom Hill instead of Prosecco, I do not understand the obsession with Jack Wills, and I have never held a £50 note. (While we're on the topic, does anyone actually know who's on the £50 note? I've always been curious.)

But last week I got the opportunity to pretend to be super fancy for a full 24 hours. It was exhausting. 

As a birthday treat for my mother we went to the Celtic Manor Resort, a golf, spa and leisure hotel and resort in Newport. Everyone from the Prince of Wales to Elton John, Shirley Bassey and even Obama have stayed there. Clearly, if it's good enough for Barack then it's good enough for us. 

I drove (purely because my car would fit in fractionally better among the BMWs and Porches than my mother's Ford Focus) and there was a long, winding driveway up to the hotel. Even the shrubbery was fancy! But there was a £15 charge to use the car park overnight! In a hotel as posh as the Celtic Manor you'd expect a valet in full livery with some kind of elaborate moustache to come and park the car for you (not that I would have dared let a valet get in my car, amongst the discarded Cadbury wrappers and crumpled up parking tickets). At the very least you expect to park for free. I mean, I can't imagine Obama standing at the ticket machine, counting out his pound coins.

However, by the time we got to the check-in desk, any irritation had been completely replaced with awe. The lobby was huge, with impressive dragon sculptures and giant Rolex clocks, showing the time in a random assortment of countries. It was even more impressive than the Radisson Blu in Cologne (although I may be biased because, well, there were dragons).

It was while we were queueing to check-in that we first spotted our holiday enemy. There is always a holiday enemy, regardless of where you go or whether you're there for two weeks or one solitary night. The holiday enemy is the person who keeps popping up at various points throughout your stay, seemingly with the sole purpose of irritating you.

Our holiday enemy was a lady in amongst a group of women who clearly thought they were auditioning for 'The Real Housewives of South Wales'. I didn't even know that people like this existed in real life, but there they were, looking more glamorous than any person has a right to at three 'o' clock in the afternoon in Newport. And then there was the holiday enemy, flicking her hair as if she was sponsored by L'oreal, laughing loudly so all the little people could hear, and staring down her nose at the rest of the world (literally, because her heels were so high).

"Look at her," My mother said. "She thinks that being in the Celtic Manor means she's really something special. But obviously it doesn't. After all, we're here!"

The room was amazing! There was so much space (I wish my bedroom was half as big) and we had a little sitting area with arms chairs, a desk, a dressing table, a view that stretched out for miles and a mini bar that we were too afraid to so much as look at. Then there was the bathroom. It was heavenly! I mean, the Bryn Meadows may have had a tv in the bathroom, but this bathroom had a giant mirror with lights all around and ample room to do makeup (even for someone who spreads out mess as much as I do).

After exploring the room we did a little turn around the lobby again, investigating the cocktail bars and restaurants and I taught my mother to carry her bag on the crook of her elbow because "that's how the rich people do it". Then we sat and had a coffee (which came with complimentary cakes!) and we tried to work out how we were possibly going to raise enough money to move into the hotel. Because clearly there was no going back to real life after a taste of such luxury.

We ate dinner in the Olive Tree, one of the restaurants downstairs, which served a hot buffet. I won't lie, I stuffed my face. Soup, turkey, duck, vegetables, weird rice things, some kind of gnocchi...I didn't turn down anything. I had five desserts and I feel no shame! Everything was delicious and, best of all, everything was labelled stating whether or not it was gluten free.

Then we got the bill and I thought my mother was going to throw four courses worth of food back up onto her plate.
"£9 for a glass of wine?!"
She complained all the way back to the room. Yes, she moaned about the price of wine all the way through the lobby of the most posh hotel in the country (but, even as she was ranting, she kept her bag on the crook of her arm in an attempt to blend in). Luckily she didn't find out how much my Cosmopolitan had cost until the next day.

After a night spent in wonderfully comfortable beds, and a morning spent stuffing our faces full of delicious breakfast goodies, we went to the pool. It was amazing! There were saunas, steam rooms, hot tubs, jacuzzis, sun loungers, a ceiling with little LCD bulbs, painted to look like the night's sky. It was all so...fancy!

But, all too soon, it was time to check-out. It was so sad, knowing that we were heading back out into a world where people wouldn't rush to our aid whenever we needed something or call us ma'am, a world where there was no one to come and re-fold our napkins between courses, where the baths were regular sizes and no one came to refill your wine glass.

We caught one last sight of our holiday enemy again, flicking her hair and posing.
"You know," I said. "If she really was that posh then she'd know you're not meant to wear open toe shoes after Labour Day."

And that's the story of how, for just one night, my mother and I became all fancy-shmancy, sipping on overpriced wine and dining on food we couldn't pronounce the names of. But alas, when the clock struck 12 it was check-out time and, as we pulled out of the car park, we instantly turned back into pumpkins.

Someone Hand me a Tiara, I'm Officially a Princess!

"...we're both women of business..."

Well, I've hinted at it and mentioned it in passing and used all of my self control to stop myself from blurting it out for the past month or more while boring bits of paperwork were still being signed and nods from official-type people were waiting to be received, but at long last I am officially self-employed. My Entrepreneur Barbie beams down at me from my dressing table every morning and I think about how much we have in common. We both like shoes and pink things and we're both women of business now. Granted her hair is significantly better than mine and she never gets bags under her eyes, but I try not to dwell on that.

So what is this business I hear you cry? Am I going to be some kind of high powered business woman in a suit, talking about graphs and holding business meetings in Starbucks? No. Of course not.

"I am...a princess"

I am fulfilling my life's ambition. I am...a princess. I think the technical term is 'children's entertainer', but I love to see how people react when they ask what I do for a living and I tell them I'm a princess. They are most likely inwardly debating whether or not I'm crazy. 

But I swear I am totally sane. Or, at least, as sane as I have always been. I've started up a hire-a-princess business. If you read my post about Lauren's birthday party back in August, then you may recall the Elsa impersonator we hired. The one who had her black bra on show and seemed to have no actual knowledge of Frozen. And didn't actually talk to the children. Or smile.

Well right then I there I decided to go ahead and become a princess impersonator myself. I mean, clearly this job is only second to actually working in Disney World! And, being a perfectionist, and lifelong princess fan, I knew I could do a good job of it.

So my bedroom is covered in glitter and rhinestones and there are princess-themed props all over the house (much to my mother's dismay). I've gone on a business course and can now confidently navigate Microsoft Excel and sort out my taxes. I have leaflets and my very own business page on Facebook (which you should totally go and like, by the way) and things are finally getting off the ground.

I had my first party this weekend and it was absolutely magical! The little ones were in awe and it was just fabulous! We had a princess story time, lots of lovely photos and the birthday girl had a very special pixie dust wish. One little one was a particularly big fan and came out with all sorts of wonderful questions and comments. My particular favourite was, "I've been at work all day in the killing factory. We kill the nasty animals for people to eat. Not the nice ones though, only the nasty ones". Oh, the mind of a four year old is a wonderful thing!

So I am officially a princess and loving every minute of it (apart from the accounts, obviously). I mean, prancing around, singing, watching Disney films and getting to dress up in sparkly princess dresses...it's the job I was born to do! 

My Birthday: Smiling, Laughing and, Eventually, Wailing

Fear not! I haven't abandoned you! I know I've been a terrible blogger for the past two months and I'm really sorry. I've recently had something really exciting going on which has been taking up all of my time. I can't wait to tell you all about it...but I can't for another few weeks. I know, I know, suspense is a killer.

What a can tell you about is my birthday party. I turned twenty three a fortnight ago (and yet the night before my birthday I got asked for my ID to prove I was sixteen so I could buy a lottery ticket) and, to celebrate the anniversary of my glorious birth, we had a BBQ. All themes were banned after the Wonderland Extravaganza I organised last year. Apparently my mother wasn't entirely on board with the amount of glue-gunning and googly eyes required to make our garden look like a Lewis Caroll novel.

But a theme emerged on its own and that theme was Jack Daniels. We had Jack Daniels chicken, Jack Daniels cupcakes, Jack Daniels bottles as ornaments and generally so much Jack Daniels that I spent the entire next day wondering whether or not I'd be able to survive the hangover.

But the BBQ was a success. My friend Beth from North Wales came to stay again. She is the perfect person to have around if you’re planning a party. No matter how many cupcakes need to be iced, no matter how stressed I am about the distinct lack of batteries for the fairy lights, no matter how challenging it is to choose the right pair of shoes, she is always able to keep a level head, sort everything out and stick Toddlers and Tiaras on to calm me down.

Everyone had a great time. Auntie Linda insisted on being the ‘quiz master’ despite the fact that the ‘riddles’ she was asking us were, in fact, jokes. Lauren managed to sneak at least three Jack Daniels cupcakes before I managed to explain to her they weren’t chocolate (and then possibly another two afterwards). And I got up on a chair and sang pretty much the entire Frozen soundtrack at the top of my lungs. At one point, during my somewhat overly enthusiastic rendition of Love is an Open Door, it was only my uncle’s quick reactions that stopped me falling off the chair. I didn’t miss a note despite the near death experience.

As the night progressed we ended up squashed into my Dad’s man cave (his shed decked out with all kinds of weird and wonderful man-type things). It was there that we had a sing-a-long to Les Miserables. It was well past midnight by this point so my sincerest apologies to my neighbours.

And then, when the last of my guests got up to leave, the vodka got the better of me and I burst into tears. There is a reason I don’t drink vodka. I’ve sat on a pavement crying into my handbag at the age of eighteen, wailed with strangers in the toilets of Wind Street on more than one occasion and bawled my way through many a walk home in Exeter and vodka is always to blame. It’s a real conflict of interests because I simply can’t rule Cosmopolitans out of my diet.

So, after a lot of singing, dancing laughing, drinking and, eventually, wailing, I headed to bed. And bed is where I stayed for the whole of the next day. Since then even the thought of alcohol turns my stomach. So, odds are, my twenty fourth birthday party will not be Jack Daniels themed. But, crying and vomiting aside, I had a really wonderful time. I only wish I’d eaten more burgers…

A Princess Perfect Frozen Party...and Some Woman in a Wig.

The Littlest Loon turned five last week and, as a family, Wellingtons are not known for throwing low key, run of the mill celebrations. I attempted to throw a small, casual gathering for my birthday last September and ended up with a full blown Alice in Wonderland extravaganza  ("I want it to feel like an opium trip...lots of clocks and giant mushrooms..."). So it seemed only natural that I would spend the weeks leading up to Lauren's birthday battling with the glue gun, brushing glitter out of my hair and running around town trying to find a life-sized Olaf balloon to put together a Frozen themed party fit for a princess.

The party itself was a roaring success. True, there was a brief period at the start when things looked a little rocky. Lauren worked out how to use the smoke machine and, within a few minutes, you couldn't see from one side of the room to the other. Then the smoke alarms went off and the rest of the building started to evacuate. Right in the midst of the piercing shrieks of the fire alarm, the Elsa impersonator turned up and added an entirely new dimension of weirdness to the scene. Her yellow wig was off centre and her black bra was on show. Overall, I'm not sure anyone was convinced she was really the Queen of Arendelle.

"I'm not sure anyone was convinced..."

But, once we'd deactivated the smoke alarms, opened all the doors and windows to let out the fog, and 'Elsa' had left the building, things really picked up. We had all the usual children's party games, pass the parcel and musical statues. Then we brought out the karaoke, which was simply adorable right up until the third or fourth time I had to listen to another rendition of Let it Go. There were happy children everywhere and, after the last little one headed off with their party cone and a big grin on her face, I was more than happy to take a deep breath, relax into a chair and have a Jack Daniels. Who would have thought organising a fifth birthday party could be so stressful?


Anyway, I thought I'd show you some of the little bits and pieces I put together for the party in case any of you are planning a Frozen themed party of your own and want a few ideas. Most of the decorations I made were put together with things I already had around the house so be creative. In this instance anything with glitter is probably going to work just fine. 

I rushed this sign yesterday morning right before we went to the party and it's taken me until just now to realise I'd spelled Arendelle wrong (I knew it didn't look right!). Luckily most of our guests can't read very well yet so I think it went undetected for the most part.  

 I loved these little jars! I made three of them and each was slightly different. They were very simple to make, although quite time consuming. I made some very small tissue pom poms (instructions can be found on Google), glued them to some ice blue straws and embellished them with glitter and sparkly ribbon. I cut some snowflakes out of plain white card (who knew snowflakes were so hard to draw?) and added some gems and glitter and stuck them to the straws too. I made the little snowmen out of little white pom poms and coloured wooden craft sticks. Then I added some ribbon and sparkles to glass jars, stuffed them with cotton wool and arranged the decorations inside. 

I wish we had a better picture of the snow doorway, but you get the idea. The kids loved it (although by the end of the party it looked less like a flurry and more like the aftermath of a blizzard). I just threaded cotton wool balls of various sizes onto fishing wire. With the glue gun I secured each ball with a dot of glue underneath so they wouldn't slide back down the wire. Then I attached each length of fishing wire to ribbon, which we then pinned to the door frame so guests had to walk through the snow to enter the party.

These little food signs were easy to make and really emphasized the theme. It's essentially folded card that looks fancy because I added glittery snowflakes and cut it with a craft scissors. Sometimes the simplest things look the most effective.

I piped faces and buttons onto these marshmallows with writing icing. I never want to see another marshmallow for as long as I live, but the kids really loved them.

 

The Sven cupcakes were a big hit! All I did was ice my cupcakes with chocolate butter-cream, use mini marshmallows for the noses, iced on the eyes and mouths with writing icing and used cut up Curly Wurlys for the antlers.

Then my sister-in-law amazed everyone by making a three tier birthday cake. True, it's got nothing on Cake Boss, but considering she just picked up some icing and thought, 'I think I'll make Lauren's cake myself' I think it's fabulous! I thought cupcakes were stressful, but this is something else entirely!

Needless to say, it's going to be a while before I can bring myself to watch Frozen again. I'm still finding glitter in my shoes and last night, after weeks of stressful planning and late night glue-gunning, I slept for a solid twelve hours without any party related nightmares for the first time in a while. But Princess Lauren had a fabulous time and overall I'd call it a success. 

Now to plan my birthday party for next weekend. I've been pre-warned by my mother that this year all themes are banned...

My Blogging Birthday!

Firstly, seeing as this is a post dedicated to the celebration of this date, I know it seems ridiculous to be writing it at 10pm when the day is almost over. But I spent the entire day at a safari park (which is a whole other weird, wonderful and saliva-filled story) and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and get to work.

Somehow it has been an entire year since I started this blog. I started it with no clear vision, knowledge of computers or idea of what I was doing. In fact, it only came about because so many people informed me they liked to keep up to date with my Facebook statuses because, apparently, they're hilarious. Then one night, in a night club in Exeter, a slightly tipsy girl I'd never seen before suddenly called my name.
"Oh wow! I read your status updates on Facebook. I always log in to see if you've said something funny. I love them! Seriously, there are so amazing!"
At that point I decided on two things. Firstly, I needed to change my Facebook privacy settings. And secondly, I needed to start a blog.

And so twenty oddball was born one year ago today and in that time I've blogged about:

- Enormous pants
- A transatlantic love interest
- Hugging Floella Benjamin
- Men who claim to own gondolas (but clearly don't)
- Elves
- Various near-death experiences

And those are just a handful of examples off the top of my head.

Actually, when it's all laid out like that, I have to acknowledge that it's been a really weird year...

But, what's very depressing is the fact that, even though the last year has seen me travel Europe, graduate from university and survive the Eurovision, I've somehow wound up in exactly the same place as I was when I first started twenty oddball. In my first ever blog post I wrote...

"At 21 years old I find myself back at my parents' house during the summer break from uni, and very, very single"


And here I am, exactly one year later, back at my parents' house after graduation, and very, very single. I'm not convinced that I've really made that much progress.

But, if nothing else seems to be moving forward at a visible rate, at least my blog is doing well. What started out as a kind of vague mess of ramblings has, during the last year, flowered into a vague mess of ramblings with an accompanying twitter account. And the occasional reader!

And, for the nosey among you, you might like to know that in my first year I've had 6,118 views and my most popular post was F-Words All Round: Freebies, Fun, and Foul Cocktails.

So here's to twenty oddball and let's keep our fingers crossed that my life will continue along unexpected and somewhat bizarre paths so that I can entertain you all for years to come!

Twenty Oddball Birthday Bonanza Giveaway!

On the 30th July twenty oddball turns one year old. So, at the end of this month I will have officially been entertaining people with my ramblings and tales of shame and poor judgement for an entire 365 days!

Obviously, we must celebrate this momentous occasion. In a perfect world I would teleport you all here so we could party and eat cake together, but, even if there was such a thing as a teleportation machine, I have enough trouble trying to plug the Playstation in so odds are, I'd never get it to work. It's probably for the best anyway. I wouldn't want to have to spend the whole of the next day scraping birthday cake out of the carpet. 

So, I'm opting for the next best thing and hosting a giveaway! 

Choosing a prize was an ordeal. For one, the very day I chose to pop into town to pick something up, there were a whole host of events taking place in the city centre. There was a craft fair, a vintage car show, men dancing with fire, an orchestra, a totally random polar bear statue that seemed to serve no purpose, and crowds of people who seemed to have nothing better to do than stand wherever I wanted to walk. Plus, from nowhere the sun came out and I was forced to dodge the crowds as I melted in my jeans. 

The second issue was trying to decide what to actually give away. My readers are all ages, male and female, and from all sorts of countries (actually, I've really had to brush on my Geography since I started this blog). So it wasn't enough to ask myself what I'd like to win in a giveaway because, odds are, pink, sparkly stilettos aren't everyone's cup of tea. 

Thankfully, what is universal is chocolate. And I have an abundance of it on offer! It's all Thornton's (I'm not sure if people outside of the UK will have heard of it, but trust me when I say, it's delicious). I bought a box of Classics, a box of Gooey Caramel Irresistibles and a really cute and yummy-looking chocolate monkey. 

I also picked up a Knock Knock notebook, which I am in love with and having inner turmoil about giving away. I may have to go and buy another one for myself. The quotes inside are hilarious. 

And you can get all of these goodies (along with a good dose of my genuine love) by entering the Twenty Oddball Birthday Bonanza Giveaway (rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?) I'm hosting it on some techy-type internet thingy called Rafflecopter, but even I can work it so trust me when I say it's simple. 

You can enter on twitter, facebook, or right here on the blog and each way you connect gets you another entry. The closing date is July 31st and I'll post the winner on my facebook page, twitter account, instagram, and right here on the blog as well as sending a message to the winner so there's no chance of any funny business. Plus, you can enter from anywhere in the world! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

So get to it and good luck!

The reason I pinched these pictures from the internet rather than taking my own is because I am currently on my deathbed (slight exaggeration) and I'm too ill to leave my bed. Or sit up. Or open my eyes for too long. Luckily, I wrote the rest of the post yesterday because even typing this is just too much right now.

Boring Terms and Conditions

This is my first giveaway and I just want it to be a fun way to celebrate and say thanks to my readers with no drama or unexpected disasters. So let's cover the bases.

This giveaway is running worldwide, but remember that there may be customs charges in your country for accepting a package from abroad. Much as I wish I could be, I'm not in charge of the worldwide postal system so there's nothing I can do to help you with that.

I will pack the prizes with love (and bubblewrap), but there's no guarantee that some moody guy in the Post Office won't man-handle the package. No one wants the chocolate monkey to arrive with no head, but, again, it's beyond my control once the package is out of my hands.

Update!

And the winner is Sarah Olson! Thanks to everyone who entered. I'll be posting more giveaways soon so fingers crossed for next time.

F-Words All Round: Freebies, Fun, and Foul Cocktails.

Last Tuesday I somehow managed to meet all my deadlines, slept for 14 hours, and drank Jack Daniels to celebrate. I ignored the fact that I have another 10,000 words due in by the end of April and decided to give myself the rest of the week off, to soak up as much fun as I possibly could before I went back to a life of instant noodles and looking like death warmed up. Also, I have a little freebie at the bottom of the post. You know, because I love you.

"...a curdled goo..."

On Thursday I headed to Bristol to celebrate Bethan's birthday. Yes, the Bethan I went to Europe with, who got stuck in a turnstile in Paris and made topless Irish men bench-press beer kegs when she got lost in a night club in Prague. Needless to say, the girl is a hoot. 

I was definitely unreasonably excited on the bus. I don't know whether it was the relief of not having to read about degeneration anxiety in the nineteenth century, glee at finally having time to apply eyeliner, anticipation at the thought of a night out in a city that has more than three clubs, or a combination of all of these things. Either way, I shamelessly danced to myself while I listened to Britney Spears on my Ipod. 

Bethan had stocked up on alcohol...in a big way. She wanted to make cocktails. The Sex on the Beach was great, the Woo Woos contained a whole new host of ingredients, but sadly, her attempt at Pina Coladas just resulted in a curdled goo. All the same, it took a lot for me to persuade her not to drink it. 

Bethan and her brother have birthdays pretty much back to back and, seeing as all of our friends were busy being boring with jobs and uni, we tagged along with her brother's birthday celebrations. We ended up in a place called Thekla. It was...well, they certainly weren't playing any Britney Spears. It was what we called 'emo' music way back when I was thirteen, a lot of screaming and people throwing their hair around, the girls in high tops and mini skirts, the guys with more eye makeup than me. 

I got caught smuggling in my glittery pink hipflask full of vodka when we were at the entrance. 

"You caught me!" (Look cute. Just look cute and confused.) "I'm sorry!"

And in we went, vodka and all. I honestly believe it had more to do with the fact that Bethan and I were the only girls there in high heels and dresses than any charitable feeling from the bouncer. He made an appearance later in the night and things got somewhat weird.

"Do you remember me?"

No. Oh dear. 

Bethan whispered that he was the bouncer from the door.

"Oh, yes! Of course. Thanks so much for earlier."

"You know, most people wouldn't have done that for you."

"...Yeah...thanks." 

"Most people would have just thrown you out, but I didn't. I wouldn't do that to you."

"It was nice of you."

"I'm glad you remember me."

And, as the conversation started to go off in some strange new direction, we headed to the toilets and spent the rest of the night avoiding all large men in puffa jackets. 

The night ended rather early. Bethan somehow got elbowed in the eye and pushed over and demanded I find somewhere that would play Carly Rae Jepson. But quickly that demanded turned into "Just take me home. The best birthday gift ever would be a plate of pasty and a cheesy movie." So home we went and watched that epic favourite...Clueless. But I really can't remember the time I laughed that much. 

Amazed that I was even able to stand on Friday, I headed off to the station, missed my train, and collapsed into bed when I finally got home. I would need all my strength for Saturday's events. My lovely housemate Jess from Mismatched Knitwear was having a birthday party and was bringing in reinforcements from Essex.

What a night! First there was the age old issue about outfit choice. The party was in our kitchen and I had been told on numerous occasions it was going to be a relatively casual affair. But I couldn't resist an opportunity for a little black dress, glitter eyeshadow and enormous hair. (Seriously, the new-found love I have for my teasing comb is starting to take over my life.) I was not exactly looking casual. So as a compromise I wore my slippers. 

I was totally fine until Sophie slipped me one of Jess' home-made vodka jelly shots, which were so strong they wouldn't even set properly. And from there all I can say is that I spoke to everyone I saw, insisted on having pictures with quite a lot of people I didn't know, and told Jess' sister I loved her...several times. 

The people of Essex did not let me down. When the usual time for Exeter parties to end came and people started to head home, Jess' brother took on the role of DJ and suddenly our kitchen became a dance floor. It was amazing! I am slightly concerned about my feet though. It appears that after all these years of tottering around in platforms, my feet just can't deal with dancing in flats and I had to quickly change into stilettos to find comfort. Surely that isn't normal?

I rolled into bed after 4am, forcing Jess' brother to talk to me in the kitchen for over and hour about...who even knows? And the next day I moved briefly from my bed to watch the rugby before climbing back into my cave to sleep off the rest of my hangover. 

So, my week off was fun-filled to say the least. Unfortunately I must now go back to "the dark place". Today was my first day back in the library. I dozed off with my head in a book. I need to work on that.

Freebie Anyone?

Before I forget, I have a freebie for my readers in the UK (sorry to everyone else). In my last post I mentioned that The Week had sent me a copy of their magazine to review and I really liked it. Now they'd like to send a free copy to each of you to make up your own minds about it. They aren't paying me and this isn't just a weird scam where, instead of the magazine, I turn up at your door in a big box (but who wouldn't want that?) 

I just love freebies so when they offered freebies for all of you guys I was instantly on board. Here are the details, links, and random picture they sent me.

Claim a free copy of The Week magazine

·         The best of the British and international media

·         Clear unbiased journalism presenting you with the facts you need

·         Intelligent writing delivers you a concise and complete briefing in just one hour of your time

·         Keeping on top of the news has never been so easy or enjoyable – in print or through our dynamic digital formats

·         Our Review of reviews brings you the most interesting and entertaining insights on the latest books, plays, films, opera and exhibitions

·         What are top food critics saying about British restaurants?

·         Plus the most bizarre stories from the tabloids, a smattering of gossip and Talking Points

Follow this link to claim your free copy: http://subscription.theweek.co.uk/landing/bigshot/01/

"What goes with pyjama bottoms?" "Shame!"

Five minutes ago there was a knock on my bedroom door. I crawled to the door on my hands and knees (naturally). It was my housemate, Iona.
"I just read your blog from start to finish and I really like it. I think you should write another post soon."
I was both touched by her compliment and impressed by her procrastination skills.
"Thanks," (still on my knees) "I want to write one, but I've just been so boring lately doing my dissertation. I don't know what I'd write about."
When she left and I crawled back to my pilates (which was my own form of procrastination and the reason I was crawling around the room), I realised that, in fact, my weekend had been far from boring and now is the perfect opportunity to write my next blog post...and procrastinate by doing so.

What started out as dinner with Kirsty and her parents on Friday night ended with me walking home through puddles with no shoes on at 2am with Sophie and Jess. I have a knack for spreading the evening out.

It was Emma, from Wasting Tuition Fees', birthday. I only realised when I was on my way out the door to go to dinner, but I'm not one to pass up an opportunity for a cocktail or seven so, after stuffing my face with the world's best chicken in mushroom sauce, I headed over to Monkey Suit, which is one of my favourite places in Exeter because they know exactly how to make a strawberry daiquiri, a skill which is often overlooked in life.

I told Sophie and Jess I'd meet them there so I was alone when I got to the entrance.
"Are you just coming in for a drink?" Asked the bouncer.
"No...I'm going to a party."
"Whose party?"
"Emma's"
"And how old is Emma?"
I stopped and stared blankly, partly because this interrogation seemed somewhat unnecessary and partly because at that moment, I couldn't even remember how old I was.
"22. No. 21. 22. Wait. No. I'm 22. So she must be...I'm just so confused."
But my confusion was obviously believable because in I went.

By the time Sophie and Jess got there I was three cocktails better off and already had a wristband for queue jump at Timepiece, despite the fact that it was originally going to be a 'just one drink and then home so I can get up for the library tomorrow' affair. Fast-forward to us heading home in the early hours with me carrying my shoes, something that simply does not occur in my life. I once kept my shoes on all night despite the fact that my feet were bleeding and yet here I was splashing through the puddles, high heels in hand, like some kind of shoe-novice.

"I feel no shame."

But, as much fun as we had that night, it was the next day that inspired me to write this post. Having point blank refused to leave my bed all morning, I assumed the others had made it to the library. Imagine my surprise when Sophie popped up on Facebook chat.
"Have you got any self raising flour? I need cookies."
What a genius idea! Cookies were exactly what we needed. And so I made the most productive move of the day thus far and moved from my bed to Sophie's bed.

So Sophie, Jess and I sat on Sophie's bed, each at various levels of exhaustion and all still wearing our pjs and last night's eyeliner. It was a serious issue, trying to decide what treats we needed. We could make cookies, but we had no chocolate chips. We could make cake, but deep down we all wanted cookies. There was ice cream, but no brownies. The odds were seriously stacked up against us.

At last there was no alternative, but to head to Londis in our pjs, hair unkempt, eyes bloodshot, faces unmade. There was a bizarre moment before we left when Sophie couldn't decide which shoes to wear.
"We're in pyjamas. I don't even have a bra on. I don't think it matter which shoes you wear."
"It's just...what goes with pyjama bottoms?"
"...Shame."
We simply needed chocolate chips. And it was worth wandering the streets in my Mickey Mouse pyjama bottoms to stuff my face with cookies...and cookie dough....and ice cream...and Dorritos. Because sometimes, when you simply can't face another day of reading about the antebellum South, the only thing to do is to lie in bed and eat and week's worth of calories.

I feel no shame. It was amazing.

A Very Merry Unbirthday: DIY Alice in Wonderland Themed Party

So my Alice in Wonderland themed birthday party was over a month ago now (although it feels like a lot longer than that when I think about all the things that have happened since then), but this is the first moment I've had to sit down, go through all the pictures, and try to make a blog post out of it. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so I'm going to shut up for once and just let you take a look at some of the photographs.