Thursday, 27 January 2011


It has been a shamefully long time since I have posted anything. Dreadfully sorry.
(Not that anyone is even reading this. Except for the average of 12 drive-through readers I get every time I post something new.)

My laptop, which is both the bane and the focal point of my life, decided to go on strike a week or so ago. There was something wrong with the bit where the charger goes in. A man fixed it. That's all I know.

Back to business.

I was recently reminded, by one of those late night nonsensical twitter conversations that we are all familiar with, of a survey that was published last year. This survey was essentially about the nation's favourite smell.
Apparently, the winner was toast.

Now, one of two things may have happened here.
Either (one) we are so boring as a nation that we couldn't be bothered to think about our answer, or (two) somebody made this up.

If someone asked me about my favourite smell I am almost certain that I wouldn't go straight to toast.
Here follows a list of what my actual favourite smells are. And they're in order.

5. OPI Nail Varnish
I don't sniff it on purpose. And I imagine that if I did it would be unpleasant. But the smell that lingers after I have painted my nails is infinitely comforting.
4. Vera Wang, Princess
A Perfume. Made to be smelled and enjoyed. This one is particularly obnoxious and maybe a little bit tacky, but I like it.
3. Books
New books, old books - I don't mind. If you've ever been to university, you will have woken up with either your face IN a book or a book ON your face, and therefore you should be familiar with this particular smell. Textbooks, incidentally, have a lovely smell all of their own.
2. Britney Spears, Circus
Favourite perfume in the world. I smell of this most of the time. I would wear this even if I didn't like Britney Spears, but, as luck would have it, she is my world.
1. MAC Lipstick
Best and most satisfying smell in the world. This smell is why people are addicted to MAC.

Take that, anonymous survey people.
Normal people do not immediately think "Toast!" when confronted with a question about smells.
Or perhaps they do. I might be the odd one out.

Monday, 10 January 2011

Happy New Year.

I had a boyfriend a few months ago. His name was Idiot and for a year and a half I thought he was the best thing in the world. He bought jewellery, he sent flowers and he had a car - what more could I want in life? As if that wasn't enough, all of my friends were super jealous because I had a grown-up boyfriend with a good job and his own house.

It wasn't all good though. No it was not. Mostly because he was a BIG FAT LIAR.

There were a few things that should have ended it really, but three stand out more than the rest.

1. When we first got together, he forgot to mention that his ex-girlfriend was pregnant.
But I got over that.

2. A few months later, he forgot to mention that the baby had been born and that he was an ACTUAL DAD.
But I got over that.

3. A few weeks after that, he remembered to tell me that he had let his ex-girlfriend move in with him.
I did not get over that.

What happened next was something that I am not proud of*. I would love to tell you that I turned my back on him - following a witty quip - and got on with my life, but the opposite happened. In the simplest possible terms, I went a bit psycho. I was, essentially, hysterical. I screamed, I shouted, I cried. I brought forth the entire emotional arsenal. At one point I may have hit him, but that could well be wishful thinking.

After that bit was over, and it didn't last as long as you would think considering how much of a twat he was, I found myself feeling a bit sorry for him. Only two days of silent treatment later, I started replying to his texts again.

(Can anybody guess what's going to happen next? My mother could see it from a mile off.)

I re-fell in love with him. Stupid, stupid girl.

There was a brief relationship after that, I won't lie to you. I actually took him back with every intention of giving it a go. In my defence, I did assume that he would be asking his skanky ex to leave.

In a strange twist of fate, it was actually Idiot who decided to end our relationship. Sort of. I was a wreck by then, and probably couldn't have strung together the words necessary to adequately tell him to fuck right off. And he didn't even end it. What he actually did was ignore me for two weeks, decide that I was actually the best thing that was ever likely to happen to him and try to come crawling back.



It's 2011 now, as you probably know, and so it is officially the time when everyone decides to pretend that the previous year didn't happen. I will do exactly that.
I will rise above this situation and try my very best not to compare myself to the creatures of the Jeremy Kyle show. 

Happy New Year.
Even you, Idiot.**

*I'm not necessarily ashamed of my reaction, because I think I was more than reasonable. In fact, if I had lopped his head off with a glass manicure stick, I think I would still consider myself reasonable. But I do think that I would have felt better if I had left the room with a little more dignity.
**I was always much too pretty and much too clever to be your girlfriend. Everybody agreed.