Thursday 27 September 2012

STEADY ON

WOAHHHHHHHHHHHH THERE!

Hi again the few blog readers I have and adore (sucking up to your virtual faces can only help) as you will have noticed I have taken a leave of absence over the summer break, I just needed some space....well in truth I couldn’t really be bothered after working, all day, every day, every hour. Not bitter. And for what? Not frivolous spending that is for sure, my charming landlord has made darn sure of that. That however is beside the point, I don't need my finances to calm down, I don't need my social life to calm down either (not that it's ever that 'crazy').

No, I need university to slow the hell down. Now. Please just stop moving.

I am now in my fourth year, my ‘Masters’ year as I love telling people, officially it's not a proper Master's (10% SHORT OF IT, THAT’S ALL) but what the hell it's still a 'M' on my graduation certificate. I have had now 3 lessons so far and my head is ready to explode. No amount of tea guzzling or biscuit scoffing can save me. I am officially, definitely, one hundred percent crapping my pants.

When the hell did all this work decide to creep up on me and why did it choose to do that so quickly! I haven’t had time to watch all the episodes I’ve missed of ‘The Great British Bake Off’, I haven’t flirted with nearly enough fresher’s: “22 isn’t that much older than you, I promise”. And I haven’t been able to get cracking on my ‘Pasta 2 Go’ bags, which surely imply I’m well into student living which normally happens around week 5. *sigh*.

No. Lesson 4, here we go and hold onto your hats.

Hope everyone else is grasping on a little better than I am, if not I’m on the third floor of the library, weeping, come find me and we'll grieve together.  

X

Thursday 7 June 2012

Your Royal Highness.

Your Royal Highness. You are a babe, no you are the babe. Fact.

Like many of you I am sure, I spent the weekend declaring my love for the Queen and all things British. For this weekend, and potentially in some cases this week only, I loved the rain (classic British), I loved tennis (Wimbledon's coming so why not). I also loved polo, red buses, ketchup, beef, Pimm's, Twiggy, The Archers, Eastenders, the colours red, white and blue, foxes, Primark (I have just been told they are in fact Irish, but they can stay as I'm a regular face in our local in Luton so it stays), tea and most of all, I adored The Royal Family. ANYTHING British!

(Short list above so any suggestions, please comment with them and I shall include, unless they are rubbish or I disagree, like Brussels sprouts; they are going no where near the list).

Street Party to welcome Queen Elizabeth in 1952.

Ah yes, the family that we all want to be a part of, every girl out there I am positive wants to be Kate and every boy out there equally wants a bit of ol' Kate.

Mighty fine bit of crumpet. 

Although I fully and whole heatedly admit she is delightful, the woman I want to be is Elizabeth, our Queen and the most wanted Granny 2012 I'd imagine. She is utterly incredible! The effort it must take for her to keep pursing that smile and making small talk is incredible, also to have to put up with Camilla's trout like sneer takes some doing. But she is essentially just a little old lady and look at what she's doing, when I get to that age, all I wish is that I'll have the dentures that let me suck on Caramel Digestives still. That's my aim. Puts her incredible life into perspective.


Doesn't she age well?!

Also, and this act is the most commendable from the whole bank holiday weekend, she had to commission and allow Cheryl to step up on stage and pierce her nations ears, she got out of watching the whole ordeal but knowing what she was doing to her great country must have been a heavy burden on top of everything else she is currently dealing with.

It was just wrong. 

Seriously though, this weekend made me more proud to be British than I have been in such a long time and I felt humbled to be represented by such an incredible woman.

I also ate cupcakes in her tribute. So thank you for that. (Yay, more food!)

Street part from Saturday 2nd 2012. 

Beyond tasty. 

Hope you all had an equally brilliant weekend.
God Save The Queen and all.

A
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Sunday 27 May 2012

I need a clear out.

Oh hello again you lovely blog you.
The place I can rant, rave and repeatedly whine over and over. Hello once more. The avid readers out there (the ones I pay in cake to be avid that is) will notice I have been absent. Yes, I've been doing my good deeds and all that jazz by working at a secondary school on a three week placement (supposed to have another week off but I cannot resist you, you saucy peice of 'literature').

This had got me thinking, life is moving on as I've said before there are a huge number of graduates out there and it's time to grow up. A very adult and proper thing to do. As I grow up I have therefore decide that I too need a clear out, most importantly of the vulgar collection of Primark shoes and handbags I've collected/borrowed and never returned/ ignored because they are that hideous. To clear out is to grow up then? If that's the case what will we all be shifting?

This is not an example of a clear out. Ad it's food. Jolly good.

Po has inner peace. He has cleared out. 

So lets all please aim to have a good sort out and get rid of whatever is the bit of wasted space in our lives. Best of luck!
X

Friday 4 May 2012

"Hi real world"

My university notoriously goes back late so we start again this Monday coming and I am in the gorgeous position of not revising, not guessing what grades I'm going to get, not waiting on a sealed envelope with my future in it because I do drama. Us kids, we're judged on performances, essays and creativity, the rest of you are idiots. Because you have exams. Now I am aware that a lot of people excel in exams and bash out some brilliant stuff, I also know people who cry, take in good luck teddies and end up burning them.  I myself went through this, GCSE's and A-Level's, tough years, so I have done my fair share of sweating and breaking pens in gym halls thank you very much. I also had an invigilator come and stand next to me for a while during a history GCSE. So as well as being stressed I'm also thought of as the ugly kid. A real confidence booster that exam.

It's  not nice.

As hard and tough as this is going to be for an awful lot of people, it's getting tougher.
"Hi real world" - hi job, hi wage packet, hi taxes, hi living back at home, hi stunted social life, hi bloody hi to you.
Eurgh. But first everyone does have the glorious safety of getting themselves a summer job which I think looks slightly less daunting (let's say 'hi' again, I think that worked). Hi summer job, hi flirting with colleagues you won't see again come September, hi easy hours, hi cheap uniform, hi hungover shifts, hi potential cash pay. Looks a lot nicer put like that. By getting a summer job it stops people nagging at you that you're a bum, you aren't so down that you left uni and your independence behind because you'll be busy and you can then blow it all on new clothes for a festival. Bang. It's the baby step in growing up that a lot of people need. And why not, summer jobs equal fun. They also equal a job you probably won't care about and a lot of gritted teeth. But fun, think of the fun.

Classic summer job. 

This works too. Less respectable but less hours you'd imagine. 

YAY for summer jobs then.

Also, I went for dinner with a dear, dear friend a couple of days ago and she however, is well on track. Bitch. In fact I had trouble eating my hawaiian pizza (best flavor, pepperoni is for freaks) she's so on track. She has a job, a car, a charming relationship and a glorious looking future whilst browsing for bits and bobs for a house in the future. WOW.

So there is hope for us, but first there is summer jobs.
A
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Sunday 29 April 2012

I've Found My Calling.

Today it hit me. What I have been waiting for. People say that when you know, you just know and now, I know. I am destined to be a T.V cook/chef.

This should be me. 

I feel stupid for not thinking about it before, it's so obvious. So obvious in fact that I have justified this new career move in 5 steps:

1. I love to cook.
Now I think this is a pretty important step in becoming a T.V chef, hence I have put it at the number 1 spot. Smart thinking I know. In the last 3 years I have developed a new passion for food. By new passion I simply mean that I now care what I put in my stomach. When I first started at university I lived off pasta and ketchup for lunch and dinner for three solid months (worth mentioning that it's not bad as a diet, not healthy and you seem to loss a lot of your taste-buds but you do fit into more size 8's). Next term I stepped it up to chicken kievs and rice (this isn't great for dieting). And finally I changed to just eating sweet potatoes (this isn't great for your bowels). Now I have stepped it up two years later to homemade fish pies, cottage pies, stir fry's, lasagnas, casseroles, curry's, cakes, cupcakes, honeycomb, lemon meringue pies, the divine and I stress 'homemade' list goes on.


2. I do drama.
My degree surely means that I am the perfect candidate. "Sorry, Alice you just smile a bit more when you scoop out the pie mixture". I would nail that smile. In fact forget smiling, I would be able to do any emotion at the drop of a hat. If they needed me to look distressed over a dessert, I'd nail it, if they needed me to then look overwhelmed with an omelet, I'd nail that too. Any look or emotion I could crack out the experience I have from my degree, the ol' LAMDA exams I did (yes I still have the medals) or my experience at NYT (National Youth Theatre. It's a big deal).

I'd 'act' her off the screen.

3. It is my destiny.
I have mentioned before that I am a proud bakers daughter, this surely makes me the perfect candidate. I have the experience, I have the 'know-how' and I have the passion (it's in my blood and all that).

4. I'm fine with OK! magazine tottering round my house.
Privacy is over rated and all that. So, I would let all the magazine's in my house, I'd keep sprucing up the living room so they can feature me again. I'd probably get married a few times so they could keep coming round. Setting my sights high and all.

5. I can wear padded bras.
Nigella is an obvious threat that I'd have, and I would need to match up.. So, I am completely fine at wearing a padded bra, low cut tops and creeping around late at night to have a cheeky lick of yummy food in my underwear/provocative nighties. I will mold myself into her easy peasy, all I need is the money to kit myself out John Lewis and I'll repeat the line "Welcome to Alice's Kitchen' in my lowest. huskiest voice in front of the mirror. Easy.



What a fox.

It is a perfect idea. Plus it's given me a chance to talk about food. Again.
Enjoy your Sunday Lunches!
A
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Tuesday 24 April 2012

Holiday..Please.

Today it has stopped raining, albeit for going on fifteen or so minutes but still I am justifying this break in the appalling weather to stop writing my dissertation and drone on about holidays because of the small glimmer of sun up there. I am listening to Jason Mraz so I can't help but think of sun loungers and those drinks with lumps of exotic fruit floating in them, so exotic (I actually tried a pineapple concoction myself once a DIY summer sort of affair and it was truly dreadful, not as easy as those cheese and pineapple sticks..get off food now Alice).

Complete nom. 

Also today I tried to buy a mocha colour jumper. I didn't manage to find a mocha colour, in fact I didn't actually find any jumpers in the shops so this has also confirmed that it must surely be summer, I am sure this is a sign for the summer to come. Not shops just prying on our pathetic need to buy new clothes...the £32 was worth it...

Plus I have just received email confirmation that my 'burnt orange pleated maxi dress' has just been shipped from loveable eBay. It's a summer dress so summer must be coming.

AND THEN I was lucky enough to go browsing through jacuzzi's with my parents. jacuzzi's = summer. 100%.

They are loving it.

So, all of this means that I am now writing the odd 50 words of the ol' essays and then hoping on expedia to check out all the deals and bargains, whilst listening to Carly Rae Jepsen 'Call Me Maybe?'. Tune. Now I have the difficult decisions of where to pick, where to pick that comes below £150 mind, I am a big spender. It sucks that Glastonbury isn't this year as that almost counts as a holiday (I sound like a brat. It's still sunny and I want a holiday so unfortunately I don't really apologize). I am quite tempted with Morocco but my budget is more Manchester at the minute.

Admittedly, this is a pretty bratish blog, but as I know the boyfriend reads it maybe he'll get the hint. If not, I WANT TO GO ON HOLIDAY, THANK YOU.

Please?

Hope you are all well and everyone is looking forward to finishing exams and cracking on with their brilliant summers. Sorry for another summer/weather related post.

Just to add...
Today it is raining again. And it's cold. Looks grey and is  making me feel crap. So, when I got a tweet from my dear friend who lives in Spain moaning about him not being included (which admittedly was a bit silly of me) I thought I could give him and his friend who is also 'loving life out there' a little 'shout out' so to speak:

YOU ARE IN SPAIN. I'M BITTER. FE, FE, FE, FE, GRACIAS. 

I cannot wait for them both to return to Kent and suffer. It's not fair your'e probably both lounging in shorts and I'm wearing thermals. Love you both but today I just resent you. 

A
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Monday 16 April 2012

Mumps Happened.

Deadlines. My last post was all about them: me tearing my hair out, eating 24-7, consumed with nerves.. yeah I think you all probably got the picture or at least could relate to the horrible image anyway. So, I cam home over a week ago, did my day of shopping, went for a great night out and had my mong sesh with the friends, I was all ready to settle down, crack my knuckles and write something revolutionary. That was the plan (it was, by the way, a stonking plan).

MUMPS HAPPENED.

Mumps? Who the hell gets mumps, toddlers, babies, chubby children who just look in someway a bit cuter with another layer of fat around their face. Not 22 year old's. Not people who have more things to do. And certainly not people who love their food, it just isn't fair!

I do not look as cute as her. 

This past week I have not once looked adorable, or a little bit weak or slightly distressed. I look like a constant fat booth victim, plodding around weighted by my giant face. I am not even wasting the make-up on it to try and look even a little bit better: it'll take to long and use up way to much make up. Chewing has been out of the question, I wailed after I bravely attempted a Pringle, it wasn't a wise move. Also, my Easter Eggs. They are sitting prettily on my windowsill just looking at me, taunting me with there layers of white and milk chocolate and sprinkles (M&S if you were curious).

But, I do now know that I never want to be unemployed: what do people do?! On Jeremy Kyle they seem fine and content with daytime TV..HOW?! What the hell do you all watch?! I can't find anything, I have been scouring Sky Anytime for the past 4 days and apart from Tangled (which is amazing), there is nout.

No. 

Yes, Yes, Yes!

Can't moan too much I guess, I have been spoiled with some beautiful cashmere from Edinburgh, it's a large scarf  by the way, to hide my new cheeks, and my new chin, and even my new swollen ears. Sexy.

Wish me luck getting well, more importantly wish me luck with the packet of Maltesers  I am spying. (Food again, thought I'd stick with tradition).


Sandra Dee. "Please Don't Come Too Close - I've Got The Mumps"
http://www.bobbydarin.com/mumps.html - This by the way, is a play for two people about a girlfriend, boyfriend and mumps. Touching. Really touching...

A
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Wednesday 4 April 2012

Yay! Another Deadline.

Who has deadlines at the moment? And who is getting a little frustrated? And who has gone the whole hog and cried in the toilets? Me too.


End of term is here! Hurrah! I actually don't feel like I have worked hard enough so please feel free to add another deadline on top of ALL the others I have, its fine!

I am a drama student (yes, it is a real degree before anyone starts) and the end of term means that my rehearsal schedule has gone through the roof . I am not really sleeping, all I can think about are potential transitions between scenes and I am eating like an utter pig. A happy pig mind: bacon & cheese twists, mini eggs and 35p energy drinks put one heck of a sluggish smile on my grey looking face. I say grey, I whacked on a load of fake tan so my face now resembles one of those small tangerines that has been left in a fruit bowl for too long. Fit.

AS WELL AS ALL OF THAT. I have essays, I have dissertations, I have a speech to write, and I have new clothes to buy for my work experience. Sigh. It is a hard, hard, weary life.


Now I do realize that whilst I still have the safety net of my masters year at uni after that, I will have to get a real job. And I would imagine that people who work in the big wide world would argue it's actually harder than writing 3,000-4,000 words but for right now I refuse to acknowledge that, because I have well over 4,000 words due. I am living the tougher life.

Right, I'll crack on. pass me the cookies. (Everything I write seems to end with food)


Yes please! 

A
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Tuesday 27 March 2012

Call me a hypocrite..but pass the BBQ.

March you have really buggered up my blog writing. There I was all proud of my post I did a couple of weeks back about the sun and how pathetic us Brits are in it and you go and get hotter than the Sahara. Thanks for that.

I still stand by the fact that it isn't summer yet but, I am now guilty of wearing a maxi skirt and strumming a guitar.. well not the last bit, I haven't succumbed to that yet and I hope I never do. Not like the rest of you eh? I can barely walk up the hill near my house anymore for fear of falling over groups of daisy chain making hipsters who are waling along to Oasis 'wonder-wall'. Again.

So yes, I am still as cynical and bitter as ever but this time I am wearing a jolly neck scarf that is of a dainty floral design.

...and perhaps I could have a pair of Ray-Ban resting on my head.

...and I am thinking of buying a disposable BBQ.

...maybe I could get a guitar? NO.


I could look like her?


I would probably end up like this..

Enjoy the sun. I am positive it wont hang around this time.

A
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Tuesday 20 March 2012

"I think it's called yogging"

She is yogging hard.

The title of this post if taken from the legendary film that is course 'Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy' and I was reminded of it today at 6.00am when I embarked on my first run of the summer...apart from it isn't the summer yet. This was the first of many problems I had with this run.

It was cold. It was windy. I looked horrendous. Oh. And the most obvious, did I mention I am an awful runner or 'yogger'?

I am attempting to get back into running after a long, cold winter off but my god does it hurt. It hurt like hell. I am damn proud of myself for sticking with the ruddy though, as I was desperate to crawl back into my bed and schnuggle down, dreaming of muffins.

But, because I try and conform to the "flat washboard stomach and toned thighs" look in a bikini (pretty tough going when you're a bakers daughter let me tell you) I will grit my teeth and struggle through it. It's my own fault you would think as somebody with severe shortsightedness would just think "hell I cant see anyone so I'm fine pigging out and slumming with my pot belly". But no, I am your typical beach flapper:

" ok breathe in...breathe...is she looking at me...why is she looking...breathe...she is looking as well...SHIT! you bent down and now its all ruined...stay composed though...and again...breathe in".

Pretty pathetic seeing it in words up there. Maybe this year I should just get on and relax with a big ol' bucket of fried chicken on my belly whilst catching some rays with my perscription sunglasses and  get on with it.


How happy do they look?!

A
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Sunday 11 March 2012

Bread Winner or Bread Maker?

Right let’s just get this over and done with before I start: yes I have nice baps, no I won’t touch your baguette and yes I am a master-baker. Finished. 

At the moment as you are most probably aware I am a university student, I like to think I try hard and I’m working pretty well so hopefully I’ll come out with a decent grade. Because, I want to finish university get myself a tidy little job with a bulging cheque so I can tell the (excuse the language) bastards at student finance to leave me alone. 

My friend the other day was asking me how I would feel if I finished uni and yes got myself a nice job but wasn’t the breadwinner in my relationship, a role which I am now calling the bread maker, which aptly fits in with my bakery background and heritage (how neat). And honestly, I don't think I would mind, which I don't know is a good or bad thing. I am not for one minute saying that I will not work hard and will ride of the backs of others but if someone (namely my economics buff of a boyfriend) brings home the ‘dollar’, would I resent them?

Also, this debate has been prompted by my recent love of making cakes (how cute are all these?!):






                                                 (actual cupcakes. how?!)

Should you strive to be the bread winner or be content as the bread maker?
A
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Sunday 4 March 2012

Coming Home.

Nawww how cute does that sound?
It's going to be short and sweet today(biscuits are calling)..
I have come home for the weekend and am having the nicest of times (nicest being the key word). Home is so comforting and yeah, nice: it is nice having heating, it is nice having food all the time, and good food at that, it is nice having puppies here, it is so nice that I can't say nice enough. As words go 'nice' sounds a little dull or drab in comparison to 'awesome' or 'spectaculer' but for right now, right this moment, nice is the perfect description.

As great as every other place may be it is not my home.
It's nice to be back.


I have just this moment been given this adorable litle trinket- I LOVE home!



Home Sweet Home was never more apt.
A
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Saturday 25 February 2012

Sun, sun, sun must equal fun. Surely?

England is getting hotter. Right now, you can forget the likes of Australia, Thailand even Spain, because we here in England we have all sun. Right now the sun is ours. It’s currently so hot I must dig out my shorts, my ballet pumps that don't have a sole but are an adorable summery colour and a complimentary summery shade of a cardigan. Maybe even a floral scarf? Am I overdoing it? Am I?

Yes. Yes I am just like every other Brit who sees the sun and goes nuts for it.

Today I have seen so many admittedly gorgeous pictures of summery shots with shorts, flip flops and ray-ban glasses (never all at once though, because that is overdoing it, obviously). My friend is sat here beside me with the sun glowing through the window with a book, all very picturesque, I shouldn't be such a cynic but I am sure this book is just an excuse for him to pose in the sun.. (pretty weak comment there but he wanted a mention). I'm very nearly convinced that it is summer out there. That is, until I stepped outside and was not so warmly greeted by the chilly wind that refuses to lift and leave use in peace.  Yes there is a warm, hazy glow that wasn’t there before but summer? We are being deceived. Unfortunately.



This got me thinking, even if it were the glorious summer that I am expecting in June and no earlier, how much fun will I actually have in it? I normally just get a little clammy in it and am the unfortunate owner of a irregular natural tan, that is to say when I am fortunate enough to lay and soak up the sun my body goes a blissfully colour while my face lags behind and stays a ghostly shade of pale, so I never really benefit from the darned thing anyway. Then again this is an incredibly grim thought I am having, I DO like the sun, I do. I cant think right now why I am having to convince myself that I do but I am sure that I must love it. 

I love it abroad anyway: give me a bikini and a cocktail umbrella any day. 

A

Friday 17 February 2012

I should be working...

Right now, right this minute, right this very second actually I should definitely, one hundred percent be working. I should be researching, reading or searching for more work that I could do later on. I should be at the library, I should have my head buried in old books and turning my nose up at that old book smell that always reminds me of the elderly women who served me jelly at primary school when I was younger.. (the general elderly smell- at first smells fine and then instantly ages and puts dust up your nostrils). Why do we all do this though, procrastinating is why this country is on its knees, well it’s definitely the reason why I am. I do not need to look at who’s doing what or who on Facebook every five minutes or so but I will. I don't need to look at ASOS’s sale again just to browse through their sale bikinis and then decide I'm actually better off without one, but I will. And I definitely don't need to be writing this, I have a dissertation, a essay and a performance and all the rehearsals to go along with it but I will continue to waste my time twiddling my fingers, or playing with my hair and spending far too long on the ruddy internet..

But still, speak to you all tomorrow!

A
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Saturday 11 February 2012

"a trim is not good enough"

Today I went for a trim. A nice, easy simple trim. But apparently now a trim is now not good enough, no I will rephrase that, a trim is now apparently, and I quote; "boring". Now that is the the best way to get my money off me, yes look disgusted at my choice of hair cut and then scorn me for being so dull. That is the way to make me feel good. A confident boosting haircut I have ahead of me.. To add insult to injury, I went with a dear, dear friend who is currently sporting a very sexy, short pixie hair cut, very "on trend" and apparently a lot better than mine, proved by the five minutes attention the hairdresser paid me compared to the forty five minutes he spent on her. My hair got snipped whilst he scowled, hers got admired and adored by both her hairdresser and mine.

The end result is that even wih my thirty percent discount I left feeling frumpy, dull and a little bit cheated. But, I will not be ashamed of my choice of a trim! A trim is practical, a trim is needed and surely trims are the one haircut that is always in fashion.

Good on you trim.
A
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Wednesday 8 February 2012

#hashtagshavetakenoff

#epicfail

#wasted

#meandthegirlsareonit

#youarenotontwitter

I have had my Twitter account for nearly a year now and I love it, an easy site where I can speak my mind, stalk celebrities and catch Cheryl Cole having an argument. Brilliant. It also doubles up onto my Facebook account so no need to updated my status. I am the sort of person who will try and write a fairly humorous status, I don't know if it's particularly successful but it suits me better than declaring how much I apparently love someone or how somebody else has seriously pissed me off. Now, as my Twitter feed is on my Facebook feed I have hash tags all over the place: "Who knew drama involved so much reading? #ijustwanttobeatree" for example. But now I am seeing hash tags everywhere. from everyone, it may be petty but hash tags are used on Twitter, not any old person can take them. Soon I'll be getting texts with them in: "fancy coffee? #longday".

I have a friend who now speaks in hash tags like so: "Alice you coming tonight? Hash tag its gonna be pretty messy l o l"
It's horrible!
I am a big supporter of speaking properly so my response to this just consisted of a repetative "excuse me". Now I am not sure if writing this makes me a hypocrite as I use a hash tag but I would like to defend myself by saying I use them in the right context.

So, as our vocabulary gets shorter and our communication dwindles I guess I will:

C U L8R #endofpost

A
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Sunday 29 January 2012

Latest Trends..

Latest Trends.. Where are you?! I am waiting for the next 'look' to arrive on our high street and for the life of me I cannot see it! I miss the days of adopting a new identity every month because if all the latest trends or 'looks' that I had to conform to, like it or not! Ahh the day of one month as an emo and the other as a chav were ever so refreshing! At least that way I can say that I have made the most of my body and milked it for every occasion advertised to me on the market place!

I went into town recently and saw that the shops were just aloof with mess and disorder from clothes that were left from the January sales. There were no apparent trends advertised just clutter.. But then again is this not then the most exciting time to shop?! No looks you are forced to conform to but a freedom to dress how makes you feel good and suits your body. Yes, this is the best time to shop. Utilise the sales. Find a new you. Don't look for trends but look and dress for you.
A
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Wednesday 18 January 2012

Student Living. What a shit hole.

Student Living: not catered or suited to those of us who live with OCD. In fact it is utterly disgusting. I hope all my fellow clean freaks are whooping in agreement with me, I am not a tramp and I pay a ridiculous amount in rent, so then why do I have to live in a shit hole? Ahh I remember now, it's because I am a student and that's the accepted and more fashionable way to live. "Alice is that damp seeping into your wardrobe and ruining all your clothes and belongings?", "yeah, but I am a student. I'm just nuts like that". Mental living like that, so cool and conforming to the stereotype, how on trend am I?

YOU AREN'T "ON TREND" YOU ARE JUST DIRTY

Dirt is not my preferred cup of tea. Obviously.
I don't want to look like a boring cow and I would hope that I'm not,I certainly don't wish to offend or upset anyone's feelings, I'm simply just not a fan of the ol' mess.

Rant over.. I guess I'll be doing the dishes then.
A
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