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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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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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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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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