In most situations, people often say that getting ready is half the fun. When your getting ready for a wedding, or a big night out, or maybe just to go on a date or for dinner with your friends, there's always the 'ohh-I'm-off-out' excitable jitters! Team that with the fact that I'm 18, and oh, just about everything is new and exciting to me! Now imagine how manic and insane I must be, when getting ready for my first solo holiday... to Greece, with 6 of my friends! Exactly... point proven now!
I thought that getting ready, you know, packed for a holiday, was all that needed to be done. Alas, how wrong I was! There's the insurance, sorting out your phone so it works abroad, not helped by crapping call centre people with funny accents, getting money and actually bothering to change it into a different currency, in my case euro's, sorting out which shoes match which clothes, with which bag, and accessories... ugh how annoying, oh and then there's the massive task of actually packing it all into the super teeny case I'm taking because my luggage allowence is only 15kg... heaven help me, looks like I'll need some extra pennies for the obvious added charge of the case, then there's figuring out what time I need to wake up in the morning to get prepared, then there's deciding what to wear to the airport, with which shoes and accessories, which bag is big enough for all the magazines, and errmm, books (shocker I know)... soooooo much to do so little time!
Now breathe!!
That's my thought process at the moment. Oh and I didn't mention the washing I have left to do. And that I'm going out clubbing tonight instead of preparing myself, oops! Really not feeling too bad about that!
Actually, I still haven't bought everything... still in dire need of face wipes, face powder for those hot and sticky nights out in Zanntteee!! ooh and maybe some magazines, and some sweets? Perhaps, a new album for the ipod... although I've already downloaded 3 ?? Perhaps I'll skip that one, still haven't listened to the new Kylie one yet!
So yeah, getting ready for a holiday is acually not half the fun, but it certainly is alot of the effort!
Packing my bags, and heading of to Greece (ZANNTTEEEE... LET'S PARTY! WOOOO)
Back Soon For More Tickings Of My Oh So Teenage Mind <3
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Saturday, 24 July 2010
New Discovery... Of The Most Odd Kind
I've recently discovered that in my odd mental state, the one where I think I'm fat and have loads of skanky scabbo spots on my face, I have found 1 thing that equals 1 VERY bad idea...
2 words
MAGNIFYING
MIRROR
Great. Literally just fabulous.
As if I needed something to validate to me the state of my face. I cleverly decided that my eyebrows were in need of some serious loving and that borrowing my Mumma's magnifying mirror to make sure I extract every single hair so that I have beautifully flawless and fantasticimo eyebrows, was a good idea. It turned out to be one the worst things I could have ever done!
Not only did it blow my face up to the size of some enormous balloon that would enivitably pop in the face of a young child and make them scream, it made me focus on one part of my face, and one part only, at any one time.
Strike one!
Eyebrows plucked more than ever intended to. Look like actual frickin' chicken
Strike two!
Face is burning with redness after plucking unnecesarily at 'stray hairs' that I thought I'd found (thought I was growing old before my time on this one... slight tash at the age of 18, no thanks, I'd rather have hairy toes... another story friends)
Strike three!
Totally mishapen wonky eyebrows. 3 year old would have done much much better job. Looking like I've got 2 catapillers that have been starved to death crawling across to the sides of my face to nibble on my ears... yum?
Why did anyone ever think that a mirror that magnifys your face would be a good idea!!? WHY!?
Not only did the before mentioned afflict itself apon me, I also managed to fixate myself on my nose, convince myself that those tiny black pin-prick sized dots are huge alien spots, and continue to squeeze and torture my face for the next hour, until I'd somehow had my fill. Note::: entire face was red by this point, skin peeling from nose (OUCH) and little droplets of blood were making a break for it, trickling down my nose trying to join their little friends that already managed to leak out onto the very nice fluffy white towels in my mothers bathroom.
Then I took a step back, to admire my work if you will, thinking that up close I didn't look that bad, so surely when I turned the mirror around to see myself in normal circumstances I would be full of the fabulous gene, new and improved from all my facial 'reconstruction' ready to make people hate me for flawlessness.
Well if someone had dragged me backwards through a hedge / rose bush, rubbed kathcup in my eyes till they watered like a bitch, hit me around the nose serveral times with a possibly large hammer, dropped a brick on me, stabbed at me with kiddies forks, played dot to dot on my face with a pink permenant marker, rubbed kitchen oil and grease around my eyes and face, used a rolling pin as their new favourite 'lets beat up Char' device and then thrown me down the stairs... it would have looked impecible in comparison to how I looked right there and then.
Well we all learn from our mistakes (apparently... for many, including me, this is deff not the case... I have many examples up my sleeve but I will only share this one... Ben and Jerrys makes me ill, like stomach cramping ill, and I eat it pretty much every weekend... I shall never learn, nor want to learn this very hard lesson!)
So that's why my Mum never let me use that mirror before...
Should come with a warning, 'only for proper grown ups' (who can manage their own eyebrows)
Back soon for more tickings of my oh so teen mind <3
2 words
MAGNIFYING
MIRROR
Great. Literally just fabulous.
As if I needed something to validate to me the state of my face. I cleverly decided that my eyebrows were in need of some serious loving and that borrowing my Mumma's magnifying mirror to make sure I extract every single hair so that I have beautifully flawless and fantasticimo eyebrows, was a good idea. It turned out to be one the worst things I could have ever done!
Not only did it blow my face up to the size of some enormous balloon that would enivitably pop in the face of a young child and make them scream, it made me focus on one part of my face, and one part only, at any one time.
Strike one!
Eyebrows plucked more than ever intended to. Look like actual frickin' chicken
Strike two!
Face is burning with redness after plucking unnecesarily at 'stray hairs' that I thought I'd found (thought I was growing old before my time on this one... slight tash at the age of 18, no thanks, I'd rather have hairy toes... another story friends)
Strike three!
Totally mishapen wonky eyebrows. 3 year old would have done much much better job. Looking like I've got 2 catapillers that have been starved to death crawling across to the sides of my face to nibble on my ears... yum?
Why did anyone ever think that a mirror that magnifys your face would be a good idea!!? WHY!?
Not only did the before mentioned afflict itself apon me, I also managed to fixate myself on my nose, convince myself that those tiny black pin-prick sized dots are huge alien spots, and continue to squeeze and torture my face for the next hour, until I'd somehow had my fill. Note::: entire face was red by this point, skin peeling from nose (OUCH) and little droplets of blood were making a break for it, trickling down my nose trying to join their little friends that already managed to leak out onto the very nice fluffy white towels in my mothers bathroom.
Then I took a step back, to admire my work if you will, thinking that up close I didn't look that bad, so surely when I turned the mirror around to see myself in normal circumstances I would be full of the fabulous gene, new and improved from all my facial 'reconstruction' ready to make people hate me for flawlessness.
Well if someone had dragged me backwards through a hedge / rose bush, rubbed kathcup in my eyes till they watered like a bitch, hit me around the nose serveral times with a possibly large hammer, dropped a brick on me, stabbed at me with kiddies forks, played dot to dot on my face with a pink permenant marker, rubbed kitchen oil and grease around my eyes and face, used a rolling pin as their new favourite 'lets beat up Char' device and then thrown me down the stairs... it would have looked impecible in comparison to how I looked right there and then.
Well we all learn from our mistakes (apparently... for many, including me, this is deff not the case... I have many examples up my sleeve but I will only share this one... Ben and Jerrys makes me ill, like stomach cramping ill, and I eat it pretty much every weekend... I shall never learn, nor want to learn this very hard lesson!)
So that's why my Mum never let me use that mirror before...
Should come with a warning, 'only for proper grown ups' (who can manage their own eyebrows)
Back soon for more tickings of my oh so teen mind <3
Saturday, 17 July 2010
Hi There Floor, Fancy Swallowing Me Up Please?
So, yes I've neglected the blog. I never thought it would happen, and yes, I feel ashamed of myself! haha!
I've not even been busy really, oh just working full time for the first time in my life and it makes me want to take a large pistol and shoot myself purely so I have an excuse for not turning up! Honestly, who ever knew work was so exhausting!? Students, like me, have it easy! College is taxing on the brain, that I can admit, but there's no routine, there's no set structure apart from your timetable! Work is the same shit, on a different day! Kill me now! The only upside is when you recieve that pay packet on Friday morning... joy! And oh, I get paid every Friday, and yes by Monday I'm living like a pauper once again, not a penny to spare after a weekend full of fun and frolics! yipee!
Work, for me, recently, has become a learning curve... I now understand that when the 'full-timers' warned me against joining the ranks, they were deadly serious and spoke with reason. Oops. Should have listened, but like always it's only me, myself and I who prefers to learn my way... or the highway! hehe
The reason for learning curve... I have discovered that when i'm stressed I tend to 'boob' ... make petty and silly mistakes that screw me over time and time again for the rest of my shift! One of which, was telling a customer that I'd made a boob... then realising that they had no idea what this meant, not all 'humans' understand teen speak! Well didn't I feel awfully special, no wonder they left me zero pounds zero pence as a tip! Another was managing to switch on a blender, without securing the lid, thus resulting in a new way of applying the daily warpaint... red berry so suits you dahhling!!
Oh and my best one yet, sit down this will crack you up, is falling FLAT on my face and seriously hurting myself, then bursting into floods of tears in the middle of the workplace (may have been slightly knocked out but I have little memory). Luckily no customers saw, only staff, the majority of whom I am great friends with, which in fact made this more embarrassing as I have to face them every day! Booo!! So, this is my tale of woe...
I'm stressed to the max, there's people asking me questions left, right and centre, I feel a bit sick and sweaty (I'm stood next to the oven on a kitchen shift), my feet hurt, the floor is a bit slippy... there are 5 people waiting for food from the oven that I am about to produce, in my rush I walk back and forth from oven to table and oh good lord, I've slipped on NOTHING and fallen right over! On my way down I managed to bang my head on not only the floor, but also the work top, burnt my arm on a hot pan... IT HURT, and yes there is a mark... even now!, banged my knees and then burst into tears and forgot to move!
In front of my friends.
At work.
When it was busy.
And it really really hurt.
Right there, right then in that moment I learnt, the turtle will always beat the hare.
And I felt dumb! (And sick some more)
In typical teen style, I wanted to exaggerate my injuries to justify the fact that I cried at work and was sent home... do I have anything to show for this fantastic display of stupidity... nicht! (That means no in German ... I am a genius feel free to applaude) Nothing to show apart from a few purple slotches and a burn... and the fact that I'm a stupid blonde!! Fabulous!!
Want... To... Laugh .... At ... Myself.
Nope
Not happening, sorry! I have far too much pride!
Will pretend it never happened and hold my head high when next at work... until of course, I learn that this is how to trip on a banana skin!
Mental note to self:
Sloooowww dooownnnnn. NOW.
Wear non slip shoes to work.
Try not to fall on face without alcohol as excuse.
Show off injuries at any available opportunity... saves the embarrassment and justifys crying and panda eyes recieved from crying!
Next time, I'm making sure there's double sided duck tape on the bottom of my shoes, and that I'm wearing waterproof mascara!
Back soon for more tickings of my oh so teenage mind <3
I've not even been busy really, oh just working full time for the first time in my life and it makes me want to take a large pistol and shoot myself purely so I have an excuse for not turning up! Honestly, who ever knew work was so exhausting!? Students, like me, have it easy! College is taxing on the brain, that I can admit, but there's no routine, there's no set structure apart from your timetable! Work is the same shit, on a different day! Kill me now! The only upside is when you recieve that pay packet on Friday morning... joy! And oh, I get paid every Friday, and yes by Monday I'm living like a pauper once again, not a penny to spare after a weekend full of fun and frolics! yipee!
Work, for me, recently, has become a learning curve... I now understand that when the 'full-timers' warned me against joining the ranks, they were deadly serious and spoke with reason. Oops. Should have listened, but like always it's only me, myself and I who prefers to learn my way... or the highway! hehe
The reason for learning curve... I have discovered that when i'm stressed I tend to 'boob' ... make petty and silly mistakes that screw me over time and time again for the rest of my shift! One of which, was telling a customer that I'd made a boob... then realising that they had no idea what this meant, not all 'humans' understand teen speak! Well didn't I feel awfully special, no wonder they left me zero pounds zero pence as a tip! Another was managing to switch on a blender, without securing the lid, thus resulting in a new way of applying the daily warpaint... red berry so suits you dahhling!!
Oh and my best one yet, sit down this will crack you up, is falling FLAT on my face and seriously hurting myself, then bursting into floods of tears in the middle of the workplace (may have been slightly knocked out but I have little memory). Luckily no customers saw, only staff, the majority of whom I am great friends with, which in fact made this more embarrassing as I have to face them every day! Booo!! So, this is my tale of woe...
I'm stressed to the max, there's people asking me questions left, right and centre, I feel a bit sick and sweaty (I'm stood next to the oven on a kitchen shift), my feet hurt, the floor is a bit slippy... there are 5 people waiting for food from the oven that I am about to produce, in my rush I walk back and forth from oven to table and oh good lord, I've slipped on NOTHING and fallen right over! On my way down I managed to bang my head on not only the floor, but also the work top, burnt my arm on a hot pan... IT HURT, and yes there is a mark... even now!, banged my knees and then burst into tears and forgot to move!
In front of my friends.
At work.
When it was busy.
And it really really hurt.
Right there, right then in that moment I learnt, the turtle will always beat the hare.
And I felt dumb! (And sick some more)
In typical teen style, I wanted to exaggerate my injuries to justify the fact that I cried at work and was sent home... do I have anything to show for this fantastic display of stupidity... nicht! (That means no in German ... I am a genius feel free to applaude) Nothing to show apart from a few purple slotches and a burn... and the fact that I'm a stupid blonde!! Fabulous!!
Want... To... Laugh .... At ... Myself.
Nope
Not happening, sorry! I have far too much pride!
Will pretend it never happened and hold my head high when next at work... until of course, I learn that this is how to trip on a banana skin!
Mental note to self:
Sloooowww dooownnnnn. NOW.
Wear non slip shoes to work.
Try not to fall on face without alcohol as excuse.
Show off injuries at any available opportunity... saves the embarrassment and justifys crying and panda eyes recieved from crying!
Next time, I'm making sure there's double sided duck tape on the bottom of my shoes, and that I'm wearing waterproof mascara!
Back soon for more tickings of my oh so teenage mind <3
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
2 Days Of Revelations
I have literally had so much fun these last 2 days! I've been to Spitalfields Market in East London which absolutely blew my mind, and also on a grand walking tour... conducted by my father oh yes! And then yesterday I ventured out to the beach with my lovely boyfriend (yes we are back together... silent wooo hooo and joy dancing!)
So lets start with my London trip...
As I said before, I ventured out to East London for what I can only describe as a very new shopping experience, a new way to appreciate clothes! It is esentially a bigger Portobello Road, but with less antiques and more sexy clothes than your nan could shake a stick at (would that be wrong?). I loved how each stall had it's own little story, how each item was made for a purpose, as part of an up-coming designers collection... not yet seen by the media eyes. Of course... I HAD to try on absolutely everything I liked the look of, and trust me, in those tiny stalls, whilst wearing a short bodycon dress, this quickly became quite an issue... FLASHER! woops! I didn't however, dissapoint every single person working there, by trying things on for the sake of it then not buying anything (I'm sooo good at doing this and I think most women probably would agree, it's nice to try on things you know are out of reach... money issues hey, yawn!) I did in fact, buy a very nice cream, boho style blouse thing... I LOVE IT! The compliments you recieve for unique clothing are awesome... I will definately be making this an annual (monthly?... weekly?) visit.
My grand walking tour of London was also a new experience for me. I've been to London many a time before, but only to the main tourist areas... this time we went wondering around Covent Garden, China Town (sooo difficult to figure out where we were then, loads of little tiny people shouting in Chinese in our direction, it felt weird to be in the ethnic minority in prodominately white country), Leister Square, Trafalgar Square, Liverpool Street, Canary Wharf, and of course that massive road with Big Ben on it (I can't remember what it was called! oops). It amazed me how for my entire life I have lived a mere 2 hours away from this incredible place, yet for the last 18 years I haven't actually bothered to check it out properly, you know, go on a little adventure and experience the non-tourist areas of the big city. It annoyed me actually because I've never loved a city more, apart from NY which is just unreal... and I couldn't believe that this iconic place has been sitting a mere 2 HOURS from my home, when people travel for hours on end to see what I could potentially see all the time!! Yes, that seriously annoyed me.
Something however, that I was not so enthused about, was the actual stench of some people using public transport. The tube wasn't that bad,apart from the odd whiff of something a bit stinky (usually unwashed man, or someone had clearly farted before departing the train at their station, leaving us all left an aroma of eggy fishcakes. Nice.) It was actually on the train home from Waterloo where I encountered THE WORLD'S SMELLIEST MAN.
No joke. I felt sick, a bit lightheaded, with an urge to throw my shoe at his head and scream "SHAVE, WASH, CLEAN YOUR CLOTHES".
Typical bearded man, with dirty clothes, smelly breath and pits which he breathed all over me as I desperately attempted not to either cry or laugh in a bid to disguise my utter disgust. Oh, and did I mention, he was sat behind me, and the smell wafted forwards? Oh, I forgot to point out, his beard rubbed on my cheek as I leant back in my chair and he leant forward to tie his shoe. Awkward moment, made me wanna hurl. Ugh!
Think I'm a snob, think what you like, he was smelly, and I was grossed out. Sorry to any tramps out there, but please do NOT sit behind me on the train... or I may lash out. (I won't, but this is supposed to be comical)
pleaaassseeee!!
Oh and shower.
So next up... my trip to the beach. I am a typical teenage girl... I WANT A TAN TO RUIN ALL OTHER TANS. I wanna annoy my friends. I wanna annoy my family. I want to be the most tanned thing ever! So, thinking I know best like I always do (usually I am right so beware), I sat on the beach, or rather sprawled on the beach like something that had been washed to shore, bikini clad and ready for tanning. It was a nice sunny day, with a touch of cloud and a slight gust of wind every so often. This to me, is not prime time for tanning so I cleverly decided against sun block.
Stupid. Idea.
1 word.
LOBSTER.
I am officially a lobster.
I'm pinky red all over (apart from the obvious areas hidden by the bikini... just). So I've smothering my crispy skin with after sun and wishing I actually listened to my mother.
It's my way or the high way! And I learnt my way... woops!
Back soon for more tickings of my oh so teenage mind <3
So lets start with my London trip...
As I said before, I ventured out to East London for what I can only describe as a very new shopping experience, a new way to appreciate clothes! It is esentially a bigger Portobello Road, but with less antiques and more sexy clothes than your nan could shake a stick at (would that be wrong?). I loved how each stall had it's own little story, how each item was made for a purpose, as part of an up-coming designers collection... not yet seen by the media eyes. Of course... I HAD to try on absolutely everything I liked the look of, and trust me, in those tiny stalls, whilst wearing a short bodycon dress, this quickly became quite an issue... FLASHER! woops! I didn't however, dissapoint every single person working there, by trying things on for the sake of it then not buying anything (I'm sooo good at doing this and I think most women probably would agree, it's nice to try on things you know are out of reach... money issues hey, yawn!) I did in fact, buy a very nice cream, boho style blouse thing... I LOVE IT! The compliments you recieve for unique clothing are awesome... I will definately be making this an annual (monthly?... weekly?) visit.
My grand walking tour of London was also a new experience for me. I've been to London many a time before, but only to the main tourist areas... this time we went wondering around Covent Garden, China Town (sooo difficult to figure out where we were then, loads of little tiny people shouting in Chinese in our direction, it felt weird to be in the ethnic minority in prodominately white country), Leister Square, Trafalgar Square, Liverpool Street, Canary Wharf, and of course that massive road with Big Ben on it (I can't remember what it was called! oops). It amazed me how for my entire life I have lived a mere 2 hours away from this incredible place, yet for the last 18 years I haven't actually bothered to check it out properly, you know, go on a little adventure and experience the non-tourist areas of the big city. It annoyed me actually because I've never loved a city more, apart from NY which is just unreal... and I couldn't believe that this iconic place has been sitting a mere 2 HOURS from my home, when people travel for hours on end to see what I could potentially see all the time!! Yes, that seriously annoyed me.
Something however, that I was not so enthused about, was the actual stench of some people using public transport. The tube wasn't that bad,apart from the odd whiff of something a bit stinky (usually unwashed man, or someone had clearly farted before departing the train at their station, leaving us all left an aroma of eggy fishcakes. Nice.) It was actually on the train home from Waterloo where I encountered THE WORLD'S SMELLIEST MAN.
No joke. I felt sick, a bit lightheaded, with an urge to throw my shoe at his head and scream "SHAVE, WASH, CLEAN YOUR CLOTHES".
Typical bearded man, with dirty clothes, smelly breath and pits which he breathed all over me as I desperately attempted not to either cry or laugh in a bid to disguise my utter disgust. Oh, and did I mention, he was sat behind me, and the smell wafted forwards? Oh, I forgot to point out, his beard rubbed on my cheek as I leant back in my chair and he leant forward to tie his shoe. Awkward moment, made me wanna hurl. Ugh!
Think I'm a snob, think what you like, he was smelly, and I was grossed out. Sorry to any tramps out there, but please do NOT sit behind me on the train... or I may lash out. (I won't, but this is supposed to be comical)
pleaaassseeee!!
Oh and shower.
So next up... my trip to the beach. I am a typical teenage girl... I WANT A TAN TO RUIN ALL OTHER TANS. I wanna annoy my friends. I wanna annoy my family. I want to be the most tanned thing ever! So, thinking I know best like I always do (usually I am right so beware), I sat on the beach, or rather sprawled on the beach like something that had been washed to shore, bikini clad and ready for tanning. It was a nice sunny day, with a touch of cloud and a slight gust of wind every so often. This to me, is not prime time for tanning so I cleverly decided against sun block.
Stupid. Idea.
1 word.
LOBSTER.
I am officially a lobster.
I'm pinky red all over (apart from the obvious areas hidden by the bikini... just). So I've smothering my crispy skin with after sun and wishing I actually listened to my mother.
It's my way or the high way! And I learnt my way... woops!
Back soon for more tickings of my oh so teenage mind <3
Friday, 2 July 2010
Peacocking
This is just a quick little moan, winge, rant, outburst of confusion about the male species really. Here goes...
WHY oh WHYYY do men, mainly semi-attractive young'uns (this means they are not old enough to be your father and are therefore still on radar), feel the absolute compulsive need to sit down with their legs spread wide open!?
Why?
I really don't understand, and above all it irritates me!
If a women was to sit with her legs wide open it would say, "come to me, I'm an easy shlag and would sooooo let you do exactly what your thinking right about now"... whereas when a man does this, it essentially means the same thing, yet in society this is considered a 'manly' thing to do.
Why... do you have to prove you have balls!? We guessed that from the unsightly bulge in your trousers (in some cases this can be harder to spot)
Do you need to prove that us women cannot get away with such an act as publically airing our 'area', like you can?
Or are you simply genetically designed to sit like your ancestors, the cave men, who so frequently hit themselves in the balls with their giant clubs used for killing animals that their balls inflamed and therefore they had to sit that way, by brute force!!
It really bothers me, and is just one of those questions I don't think I will ever know the answer to (unless of course I have a full body transplant and join the male race... as if!)
Back soon for more ticking of my oh so teenage mind <3
WHY oh WHYYY do men, mainly semi-attractive young'uns (this means they are not old enough to be your father and are therefore still on radar), feel the absolute compulsive need to sit down with their legs spread wide open!?
Why?
I really don't understand, and above all it irritates me!
If a women was to sit with her legs wide open it would say, "come to me, I'm an easy shlag and would sooooo let you do exactly what your thinking right about now"... whereas when a man does this, it essentially means the same thing, yet in society this is considered a 'manly' thing to do.
Why... do you have to prove you have balls!? We guessed that from the unsightly bulge in your trousers (in some cases this can be harder to spot)
Do you need to prove that us women cannot get away with such an act as publically airing our 'area', like you can?
Or are you simply genetically designed to sit like your ancestors, the cave men, who so frequently hit themselves in the balls with their giant clubs used for killing animals that their balls inflamed and therefore they had to sit that way, by brute force!!
It really bothers me, and is just one of those questions I don't think I will ever know the answer to (unless of course I have a full body transplant and join the male race... as if!)
Back soon for more ticking of my oh so teenage mind <3
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)