the prettiest star

Laugh now, but one day we'll be in charge.

Tuesday, May 31

Bye bye Leeds.

So it seems today is the day I leave my city flat for the house in the middle of nowhere. You can expect posts about the inane boredom that comes from living in the countryside, about the shit weather, about the pollen, and of course, the familia. My mother, whose idea of cooking is to fry the entire contents of the fridge and cover it in cheese. And her insane boyfriend and my brother.

No longer will be the tales of drunken clubbing, shopping, pulling, and evil flatmates. Instead I shall thrill you with my stories of sober nights in the pub because I have to drive everywhere, ex boyfriend sightings, and the horror of sharing a bathroom with my younger brother, whose idea of hygiene is questionable. Shopping will become a trip, not a daily habit. And I have to travel 30 minutes by car, 5 minutes by tram, and 5 minutes by foot should I wish to be in a city.

And I will be all alone. Ali has gone to Scotland- wtf?! it gets hot so she goes to the coldest, most miserable part of the UK!?- to do voluntary work. She tells me she's really enjoying not wearing make up and 'being at one with the land'. It would take an apocolypse for me to leave my room without make up and the only time I ever want to feel 'at one with the land' is when I'm dead. Stacey is going to Ibiza- lucky bitch- all bloody summer. Jackie has her boyfriend, and he just happens to be the sibling of the twat James, so I may stay away from that one.

And of course, my pulling partner Rach went and got herself a bloody boyfriend and I haven't heard much from he since. So that leaves either my guy friends. And they pose problem. If I bring them round to the house, my Mum categorizes them- gay or fancies me- and that's it. And god forbid that anyone in the 'fancies me' category comes nto my bedroom. Then all I get is 'everything alright in there' or 'do you want a cup of tea' or 'it's 6pm (!), and getting late!' every 5 minutes.

Other people's parents don't do this. They understand that having lived away from home for the best part of year, that maybe, just maybe, it's time to let go and not ask 'where are you going?' all the time. Of course, I understand that it is not my house, but I don't come in drunk late at night, I don't eat all the food or hog the tv. And everytime I say 'Surely Mother, it is time for me to go about my business without having to answer 20 questions about my every move? It's not like I live a rebellious lifestyle? I'm 19!', she replies 'I know how old you are, I gave birth to you, just be grateful we don't live in Venezuela'.

Oh yes, Venezuela. Recently came in the bottom 10 states for gender equality. Lovely country, where, at the age of 18 I was not permitted to walk down the street on my own, stay out after 9pm, look at a man, talk to a man, or smile at strangers. Why? 'Because you are a woman'. Never mind that I live alone in the city with the highest amount of crime in england.

And I really hope she doesn't try and tempt me onto a family holiday. If it's not to land-where-I-may-as-well-be-nine-Venezuela, it'll be to some place where I have to deal with her and her boyf 24/7 and someone will get hurt. And it would be somewhere obscure, just to make sure I can't go clubbing, or shopping, or make friends.

I just don't want to move away from Leeds. Nature doesn't do it for me. I am a city person, the crime doesn't bother me. And there are less bees. If it wasn't for my car, I don't know what I would do to escape.

Monday, May 30

He's a dick. In fact, they are ALL dicks.

*This post is long and very full of Brit slang. I've put a glossary at the bottom to help you read!*

A brief summary of my weekend: Friday: No he didn't call. Saturday: Went out again, met a guy, gave him my number. He's texted but I don't want to see him- he smokes. Sunday: Went out, spent £27, that's the equivalent of $49, just on cocktails. I had 5 cocktails, shared a jug with 3 people, then a jug to myself. I still didn't feel that drunk.

England, and in particular, Leeds, suck. The men are all complete tossers. My only remaining single friend (Rach got a boyf!) Sophie, was saying that maybe it's just a Leeds thing. She says that she has not pulled one man and finds the whole process much easier at home. Now, I would say that I have improved in experience since starting uni, but I never had a shortage of men at home. So wtf?! I get more attractive but no one wants me? Should I revert to having horrible unflattering short hair with about ten colours in it? Perhaps if I wear hideous ill-fitting clothes I will suddenly appear more attractive?

In the bar last night, we got IDd, then had a giggle over everyone's driving licenses. Everyone looks awful. Yet all three of us had a steady stream of men back then. Yet all I got this weekend was no-call guy and then Sat nite guy, who I would date apart from several things. First, it hapenned to be a uk urban night, and I was chuffed cuz they were playing Roots Manuva, Pay As U Go and the like. Anyway, there's this song, Stand Up Tall by Dizzee Rascal, and I love this song- all of us do- and this guy's bugging me. But he's fit so I stop and talk. Then he asks why I'm there if I'm not from London. Wtf?! He's all 'UK garage is a London ting!'. I really cannot be bothered to argue with this man, he's a total knobsack. So I really want to get back to this song, but he is persistent. Then he tells me I'm fit and asks for my number, and I give it to him to get him off my back. The he says 'Are you Asian?' which is insane, a lot of my friends are Asian, but they are obviously darker, and well, Asian. Then he starts smoking so I just escape.

That is the only kind of man I can get.

And I know it's not the kind of places I go to. I went to a old school hip hop night, an urban night, and an indie/ funky house night, and yet all the men are the same.

You've got metros, trendy boys, indie boys, bad boys, chavs, gangstas and the weirdos. I don't want any of them! There is only so much pulling you can do before it gets totally demoralizing. If they aren't the kind that calls, then they are making random claims at your ethnicity, telling you what music to listen to, or whatever. I remember a time when all I had to do was make eye contact and you'd pulled. I had a great little life. In fact I had a bloody sex life, which is something painfully missing right now.

I'm very mardy and hungover and I'm supposed to be moving out today, yet I am still in pyjamas, in bed, eating a load of fried stuff with cheese. I know I'm going to be so foul mouthed and sulky. I hoped writing this would help, but it hasn't. I guess my family are going to have to deal with me giving everyone evils. I hope to god my mother doesn't try and talk to me about contraception, or aids, or the size of my arse. All those years she spent keeping me away from boys and stopping me wearing make up and now all she does is nit pick and match make. I swear, I would sooner prostitute myself on ebay than date one of her suited, smarmy reps. Ergh.

And no doubt all her friends will come over and start their childish competing. Mum will start talking about how I've started getting writing jobs, and I've done so well (ha!) at uni, then when asked if I have a boyfriend she'll probably make one up or say I'm a lesbian. My Mum was championed back in the day, because she never let me have boys in room, boys overnight (still doesn't) and was generally a little mussolini when it came to dating. Now she throws me at whoever, or whatever, in some cases, and people say 'Poor Oleyda with the daughter that no one wants'. I'm not shitting you.

I don't get it- it's not like I enjoy being single. I like the freedom, but not, quite honestly, the lack of a sex life. People can't put ideas into my head that were there anyway. No amount of discussion with my friends, my mum, random stranger in club toilets, is going to improve the situation.

Thing is, I almost wish there was something wrong with me so I had a reason. But there isn't. I can talk about anything, music, fashion, football, sex, food, porn, whatever. I am not clingy, I'm not too nice, and no, I don't try too hard. Then there's the way I look. I've posted photos here but they aren't me. I mean, they are of me, but are a piss poor representation of what I actually look like. I am often drunk when near a camera, and I just look shit in photos anyway. So trust me when I tell you I am not hideous. So what gives?

Okay, I think I will make pancakes tonight, then I will watch Frida (didn't let no man mess with her), Y Tu Mama Tambien (perve on Gael Garcia Bernal), and Amores Perros (more perving on Gael) and hopefully I'll pick up some more Spanish. So when I fuck off to Spain, where, despite looking like most of the women there, I am actually considered a catch. And the men are actually men, not prissy metros afraid to show any sign at all of actual attraction.

I look Spanish, and I speak Latin American Spanish with an English accent, so that is always a conversation starter with anyone. The guys are gorgeous, and nice, and they are amazing in the sack. I had sex with a Spanish guy on holiday, and frankly, nothing has been good enough since. It's cuz they can dance.

(The Spain thing, by the way, is real. The company my Mum works for have offered me a job in their press office in Barcelona when I graduate.)

Whats my point?! Right. I should just wait to go to Spain. I will accept that British men are complete dicks. Total cocksuckers who can go to hell if they think I'm going to give them the time of day. I am not going to try anymore. Yes, so it was part of the plan, but anymore rejection will be detrimental to my mental health.

V's vocab.
tosser- a stupid guy
Leeds- Capital of the north!
UK Urban- a genre of music originiating in London, a bit of hip hop, bit of r n b, bit of drum and bass
chuffed- happy
Roots Manuva- my fave london mc
Pay As U Go- hardcore drum and bass, my little bro loves them
Dizzee Rascal- genius
bugging me- pissing me off to great extent
fit- good looking, nice body
UK garage- genre of urban, deep bass, fast paced
ting- a london way of saying 'thing'
knobsack- the worst kind of man
Asian- someone from around India/ Pakistan
indie- non mainstream rock
funky house- shit dance music
metro- Metrosexual
trendy boy- metro but less gay
indie boy- fit
bad boy- wannabe gangsta
gangsta- scary
chav- dire
pulling- the art of finding a man
mardy- moody
evils- a nasty look
nit pick- irritate
in the sack- in bed

Saturday, May 28

It's about time.

I feel a bit of a twat writing this, feels a bit premature. But here goes.

I met someone really nice last night.

I'm so happy I've been singing Joss Stone songs all morning.

Anyway, I ended up in MPV last night, sadly there was no Summer of 69, but some proper old school rnb which is always good. I was on a proper mission last night, speaking to so many blokes, then I found a good one.

I shamelessly bumped into him- great way to start talking to someone, and then we just didn't stop. We spoke for hours and I know he's a good one. He can dance, he likes good music, and he told me he had noticed me before. He kept doing that thing I read about in Cosmo, where they keep touching you, like on your arm or your back, very intimate and a good sign. He didn't run away when I went to the loo. Then when someone took my stool he offered me his. Then we walked to get food, he bought me food, then we walked to get a taxi and he paid for all that. Then I got his number, and then he kissed me on the cheek and I went.

There was no attempt at sex, no scary snogging, no weird behaviour. And he's gorgeous.

But it gets better.

I get into my flat, and after cringing at the state of my hair- loose waves became scary curls- and some attempts to remove all the make up, there was a beep. He had texted me already- it said 'Hey (my real name) it was an absolute pleasure meeting u tonight. speak to u soon. sweet dreams. sleep tight. x'. Now my inner girly girl analyzed this in a bout 5 seconds. Speak to u soon= good sign. sweet dreams= random but cute. x= another good sign. I love it when guys text you straight away, seriously, men, if you want to impress someone, don't be a twat when it comes to texting.

I think I'll watch Dirty Dancing again, and maybe Pretty Woman.

Anyway, I'm all squiffy this morning, I can't believe I pulled! And he didn't say I was scary! I hope to god that he's as nice as I remember.

Friday, May 27

What night is not improved by a bit of The Swayze?!

I did my last exam!!!!!!

It was my Spanish oral, and I said the worst thing: Me gusta Venezuela porque la cerveza esta barato y los muchachos son hermoso.

My tutor didn't look impressed.

Then I was bad. I went shopping. I spent £53 in Elizabeth Arden, very, very bad! Then look what I found:

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And I ate them all.

I made an end of exams/beginning of summer cd. Here it is....

The Boys of Summer- The Ataris- best song ever
California- Phantom Planet- well I'm not in the oc, but I can pretend
Last Summer- Lost Prophets- good summer song
She's Electric- Oasis- cuz I am!
Dakota- Stereophonics- Kelly Jones is hot
Californication-Red Hot Chilli Peppers- yeah so I'm obsessed with California and Anthony Kiedis is hot
The Day We Caught The Train- Ocean Colour Scene- britpop rules
Rio- Duran Duran- I love Duran Duran!!!!! and Simon le Bon is still hot
Summer of 69- Bryan Adams- just because
Super Duper Love- Joss Stone- this cd did not leave my car last summer
Beautiful- Snoop and Pharrel- reminds me of Venezuela and Pharell is hot
Crazy In Love-Beyonce- I don't care who hates her
True- Jaimeson- can't beat a bit of uk garage
Ooh Wee- Mark Ronson- good to dance to
Move Your Body- Nina Sky- latin pride!!!!!
Romeo- Basement Jaxx- I listen to this far too much
The Time Of My Life- Bill Medley and Jennifer- oh like I need to explain!
9 to 5- Dolly Parton- whats not to love?
Nasty Girl- Destiny's Child- put it on in a club and laugh at the sluts

Yeah say what you like about my music taste, but that's my soundtrack for the weekend. My flatmate gave me evils when I saw her earlier. I have played so far, today, Best of Bon Jovi, Appetite For Destruction (Guns n Roses), and Best of Aretha Franklin. I sang along to all three Cds probably louder than was necessary. I think 'Always' tested her patience somewhat.

I have so much to celebrate. I made it through first year, I went to all my exams, I'm broke and single. But most importantly, the Spice Girls are playing at Hyde Park this summer!!!! Oh my holy mother fucking god if don't go to London and see them then I may never get over it. The Spice Girls were a vital part of my early adolescence. I had the platform trainers! The union jack dress! I was only 10 so it didn't matter! Have you ever felt so proud to be British?!

Tonight they better play 'Summer of '69', I want to be drinking something vile and blue, singing about 'the best days of our life', and I expect tonight will end with me and Sophie clutching each other, declaring our love when they play that Dirty Dancing song. I may not have my own all-dancing, all-looking-hot-when-wet Swayze, but I have the best friends in the world.

Anyway, I'm going to watch Dirty Dancing, then have the cd on and get ready for tonight. Can you believe I've done a whole year of my degree?! Snaps for me!

And I have a bottle of vodka that isn't going to drink itself- have a good weekend!!

Thursday, May 26

In search of boy jeans.

Can I talk about fashion for a bit?

Okay. I love to shop, I have a bit of an addiction to be honest, and I get shamelessly happy from buying something new. Unfortunately the two places I've ever lived in are among the best for shopping in England. And England is so small I can always get the train to London or Manchester for stuff. I've been known to get the Eurostar to Paris.

Is it shameful to go to another country in search of the perfect jacket? Paris is only a few hours, but still. I shouldn't cross borders just to shop.

There are a lot of trendy people here. See, theres being stylish, being fashionable, being funky, and being trendy. (I worked this out in my lectures, much more fun than books). Trendy people are very experiemental. Some look quite odd, but, you know, their clothes, their money.

Personally, I dress a bit funky. I take influence from fashion, but I believe in sticking to what suits me, basics from high street shops with a few individual pieces. I hate fussy, patterned, frilly, detailed, busy clothes. I like simple stuff. Always tops in one colour, and jeans. I love to get bags, belts, shoes, and jewellery from either really obscure shops, or boutiques. Theres the Corn Exchange in Leeds where I get things by independant designers and vintage. Nottingham is just full of wicked shops as well.

I had a point to all this. Yes. I went to get some more jeans today. I own eight pairs, which is actually quite a lot, but they are all ho jeans. I mean, they are girly and clingy. Well I decided I needed some boy jeans today. The kind that I can wear with flip flops and just mess about in. So I went to Blue Rinse, a vintage shop that I am slightly scared of cuz I never feel trendy enough for it. I go in with my ho jeans and everyone else looks androgenous and weird. Ooh, and by the way, I'll be posting a story about a guy I met in there on the other blog.

Anyway, I got some vintage 501s, in a 34", and I'm 30" so they hang off me. I love them. See, I can wear them with vest tops and not look like a ho. I wore them with a bikini and a shirt to the pub and did not look like a ho. With the butt tight jeans it would have been a different story.

See how happy I get from a bloody pair of jeans? I also got some fabulous vintage jewelery on the cheap, but don't get me started on that.

When I was younger I wore some insane clothes. In my school fashion was all about reflecting your music tastes. I like all sorts of music, so I had a very random look. Now, everyone tries to be very individual. Leeds students must look really odd to other people.

How you look is important, to me it is anyway. I'm always after something. This week it was the bikini, then the wrap top, then the jeans. One thing that bugs me with other people's blogs is that you don't know how they dress. That sounds random, but I love seeing what other people wear, I guess that's the girl in me.

It's always interesting what guys wear. I'm not the kinda girl to change a guy, but I've never been happy with the attire of any guy that I've dated. Are American guys as crap as British guys when it comes down to your wardrobes? It's always jeans, t shirt, trainers. So dull. But if a guy shows too much interest then he's probably gay or headed that way. I'm always suspicious when a guy doesn't react to the number of shoes I have (it's over 40 pairs).

Wednesday, May 25


Okay, I need help with another thing. Cookies.

I really like to cook. I'm good at it too. I'm just waiting for some guy to marry me so I can feed him food all day and be a housewife. Okay, maybe not, but I like feeding people. But I cannot find a good cookie recipe. They're too cakey. I've tried loads and they just come out as little cake mounds. They taste nice, but I want cookies. It's not a huge deal, but I would like to be able to make cookies.

So if you make good cookies, want to help me out?

Oh, and any dating advice can be thrown my way as well.


Yes Mum, despite leaving home and having my own separate life, you just come and interfere all you like.

I have a predicament, and it involves parents. I don't see much of my Dad, and he rang me the other day, cuz my Mum had told him we should see more of each other. I was so pissed off at my Mum, cuz I am more than old and mature enough to sort out my own personal relationships, and she just shouldn't have. So I told her today that I was annoyed and there was little to no reaction from her. Does she honestly think I'm 9, not 19?

I know my Dad doesn't want much to do with me and he knows that I don't want much to do with him. Why, why, why do parents insist on playing happy families? Is this normal parent behaviour?

I think if my Dad wanted to see that much of me, he wouldn't have fucked off five years ago and had a heap more kids. It was a horrible conversation. Him: 'How are you?' Me: 'Yes yeah, I am still alive, glad you remembered, hows the baby factory going?'. My parents hate each other. Is it that bad that my Mum has to ring him up and insist he calls me? It was better left alone.

Tuesday, May 24

The orange girl.

I am unnaturally orange, and it happens to be my natural colour.

My flatmate sent me photos from Sat nite and I am positively radioactive.

I always knew I was, well, darker than many English people, but now I am acutely aware that I glow an entire different colour.

Look at this photo:

I am the orange girl in the middle with the glowing cheeks clutching a mysterious blue drink.

And again:

There's that blue drink again. Everyone looks pink and I look orange. Look at those arms! So orange and pudgy. Why can't I be all bronzed like my mother? No one else is orange.

This post is extremely self involved. Seriously, how do I overcome looking so orange?

Monday, May 23


There's something I do every summer, always round about this time. I make a plan. Since I was around 12, I always kept a diary and would make a list of all the things I wanted to do that summer and would then keep a record. Like a great multi-tasking demon, I always do the things on the list, I keep them within reason and I love getting to September and knowing I've done all these things.

Everyone that reads this and comments is older than me, and may not relate to this entirely, but it's weird how much your life changes each year when you are in your teens. Only 3 years ago I was still in a school uniform, intepreting the rule for 'tights' as 'bright pink fishnets worn over opaque black tights' and listening to Fiona Apple and being sulky. The academic year runs from September to June/July so summer is my transistional period. It's the end of a school year and things move so quickly at this age.

So since I started secondary school when I was 11 I kept a summer plan. It's a strange feeling knowing you have all these months ahead of you with nothing to do. So I need to do it to give myself goals. All through the school year my head is filled with deadlines, exams, reading, boring stuff and I think it's important to develop yourself personally as well as academically.

Without my plan, I would never have gone on holiday when I was 17, read most of the classics when I was 16, or gone to Leeds festival when I was 14. A lot of the stuff when I was younger revolved around manipulating my parents or getting money to do something, or pulling some guy. I'm ashamed to say it hasn't really changed since then!

This year has obviously been a crazy one for me. I've left home, moved to a new city, completed the first year of my degree and finally my independant streak that battled with whoever supressed me, has been set free. My personal relationships, with old friends, new friends, and family have been tested and I feel like I'm in a good place with the people around me. There's not enough space to talk about all the experiences I've had this year, but I've definately learnt more this year than any other in my life.

And I'm happy. Superficially, and deeply happy. I have looked forward to University ever since I first stepped into school, with it's sadistic 'teachers'. Now, when people ask me how I've been, I smile and say I'm doing great. I know I complain a lot, but the blog is my proverbial whine-box (like a swear box) and if you knew me in real life, I'm quite upbeat.

There's always room for more though, and this year is no different. I don't want to turn into who I was over the easter hols- fat and wandering around in pyjamas, smoking and drinking myself comatose every night. And I wondered why no one fancied me.

I've made another blog for my plan and I'll be writing in it twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night. I'll be talking about my progress, and hopefully ticking some boxes. This will still be my blog, but I need the other one to talk about calories, miles I've ran, men I've pulled, and generally anything related to my plan. It's of no interest really to anyone but myself so I don't want it on here. It won't affect what I write on here.

If you should wish to comment on it, which is highly unlikely (sample quote 'I ate a pizza at 5am, that doesn't count, right?') please email me cuz I want it separate from this blog and I don't want to have comments on that page, cuz, well I just don't.

So for the next four months, if you wish to view my progress, it will be here. It's only the random whining of a 19 yr old desperate not to turn into Bridget Jones, but it's another me.

Sunday, May 22

Two at once.

So I got tagged twice, so it's all at once, music and films.

Total volume of music files on my computer?
Erm. I dunno. I only really download songs when I don't want the whole album. I love new Cds, don't ask why. There are 295 songs on my media player, but I have hundreds of Cds.

The last CD I bought was?
Who Is Jill Scott? by Jill Scott.

Song playing right now?
Romeo by Basement Jaxx

Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me.
1. Boys of Summer by The Ataris- The perfect summer song, I love it.
2. Under The Bridge by The Red Hot Chilli Peppers- My fave song by the first band I fell in love with.
3. Golden by Jill Scott- Every single girl should listen to it.
4. Babe I'm Gonna Leave You by Led Zeppelin- I've been having a love affair with Led Zep ever since my Dad played me this song.
5. You Sent Me Flying by Amy Winehouse- My break up song, perfectly written.

I'm passing this onto:


Scientist Dan

Total number of films I own on dvd?

The last film I bought?
The Motorcycle Diaries.

The last film I watched on TV?
The Magdelene Sisters

In the cinema?
The Wedding Date

Five films that I watch a lot or mean a lot to me.
1. The Way We Were- 'Your girl is lovely Hubbel', because it isn't your typical happy ending.
2. Dirty Dancing- 'No one puts Baby in the corner' I grew up to this film and can now recite the entire script. Sad, I know.
3. West Side Story- My favourite musical, I learnt all the dances as a kid and I love it, really well made.
4. Amelie- Gnomes! Photos! Sex shops!
5. Breakfast At Tiffanys- Well of course. I have to admit I watch this at least once a month.

I'm passing this onto:
1. Martinilove
2. KelBel
3. Luke
4. Amber Lynn
5. Annalisa

Friday, May 20

Anywhere but here.

Why do you think, from June to September, English people in droves fall over each other for cheap holidays to the Med and North Africa? Why? Because England sucks in summer. We were deprived of a summer last year. We had so many miserable barbies in the garage, drinking our beer and staring at the sky, willing the clouds to part and drown us in sunshine.

Every year we escape to Spain or Greece and enjoy the 'culture' of cheap drinks, passing out and roasting yourself silly. I've already been to Gran Canaria this year, but because of stupid car insurance, rent, furnishing an entire house, and other ridiculous costs, I can't afford to see a beach until at least September. Four months. I need a beach right now. And no, it can't be Cornwall, or, god forbid, Skegness, because they are icky and dirty.

Sometimes I just get so sick of this island. It's so rainy and depressing. There is no way in hell I'm living here when I'm older. I don't think anyone will be. All my friends talk about, is going to Morroco, Spain, Portugal, Greece, anywhere but here. It hurts that all these countries are so damn close as well. Morroco, where I'd love to visit most, is only a few hours flight.

When I was 17, I went to Corfu, a very beautiful greek island. Apart from the usual mayhem, it was amazing to be surrounded by such natural beauty. The sea only came up to our waist for miles, and little fishes swam around you. The water was really warm and totally clear. It's my idea of paradise, just being in an amazing beach. Look.

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Last summer I spent six weeks travelling around Venezuela. I slept outside, on the beach, under the stars, and have never been happier. I ate fish that I caught myself and went to the rainforest, the dessert, the Andes, and all along the north coast with my cousin. Sometimes I would get upset, and my cousin assumed I just missed home. I was upset because I could have lived there. I will never know what possesed my mother to live in England. Look where she grew up.

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Yeah she actually grew up right next to that beach. The carribean coast was on her doorstep. My grandfather was a fisherman and they practically lived on the beach. It is one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, yet she swapped it for grey, gloomy England. My cousins, of all ages, come home from work or school, and spent all their evenings on the beach, drinking beer, talking, and weekends are spent having fiestas. This is the sunset. You can't see clearly, but when the sun is on the horizon, you can she the shadows of the Andes in Colombia. The boat belongs to my Uncle.

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I don't care how much money you could earn abroad, look at it! Part of the reason why I want to be a journalist is so that I can travel. I don't care if it pays shit, give me a beach and I'm happy. People that live in the Med, and in Venezuela, live a lot longer because they aren't as wound up as the English. They don't abuse their bodies with horrible food and stress, they just live.

England is not going to deprive me of summers for much longer than I can help it. I won't let this island make me old before my time like it does to everyone else. It can't give me any dreams. I have slept under the light-polluted cold skies of England, and under the shadow of the rainforest of Venezuela. I have a choice. I can be like everyone else and spent the rest of my life working 50 weeks of the year in a dark stuffy office for the sake of a two week's sun in Spain. Or I can leave this island and spend the rest of my life living the holiday.

Thursday, May 19


Me again. I had an epiphany that I forgot to mention earlier.

I'm allowed to chat up men in bars!

It never occured to me. While I was sulking over my vodka cosmopolitan, Amanda pointed out, that instead of mourning the fit guy that left the bar, I should have spoken to him. We were doing the eye contact thing. It never occured to me. NEVER. Next time I go out I'll make a point of asking someone out. I must get back into dating. I'm sick of people asking me why I'm single. I tell them it's cuz I enjoy having no sex life and not having to shave my legs as often as I should. Ha!

So tonight I went to Asda and found series one of Coupling for £10. £10!!!! I almost came there and then. I watched Coupling religiously when I was younger, taught me everything I know about British men. They like breasts.

So, the stat meter is interesting. I have a load of people that read this from Britain. This is a good thing. They know what I'm going on about when I make random references to Brit TV and say things like mardy, minging, knackered, and tosser. Anyway, I have been reading two really good British blogs. One is as of a few days ago, and one as of about 10 mins ago. Wondywoman and Shocking Fish. They are quite brilliant. Don't hate me, I like reading everyone's blogs, but I love British blogs purely because references to Celebrity Love Island, crazy frog, and titles of blogs being Take That songs make me laugh. A lot.

I also purchased strawberries, chocolate, cookies, and grape juice (too hungover for vino) and kiwi fruits, so I'm going to watch Coupling and have myself a little orgy. And one last thing.


Do you have any fit friends?

I have the words 'Scott Hall Rd' etched onto the back of my hand. Why would I have that you ask? Well, last night I found myself agreeing to go and watch some Irish guys play gaelic football and thats the address. Shameless huh?

I have to write bar reviews for a book, remember? So last night I had to go to a couple of bars and check them out. I went to brb first. Now, I love brb but the people that go in there are twats. They are trendy verging on experimental. Got a new outfit you want to try out? Wear it to brb. Parents throwing out some old clothes? Worry not. Steal them, cut them, tighten them, rip them and you'll feel at home in brb. Anyway, the manager was really nice to me and showed me all the private function rooms.

Then we go to Hakuna Matata, a complete dive in some godforsaken back end of town. It's empty apart from a harem of drunken dirty men in the corner whose eyes light up at the sight of four girls. The staff are hilarious. I ask them when they close - 'whenever the fuck we like'. I ask them about the clientele- 'Twats in suits'. Love it!

Then I go to my fave bar, Tiger Tiger . It's been revamped so I get a bit silly excited. So, we go in and the waitress is Columbian and speaks no English. So, get me, I ask her to get the manager and explain what I'm doing, all in Spanish! Then the manager arrives, and he's gorgeous. I turn into a total girl and he tells me he reads the book in reviewing and offers to show me all around. At this point its just me and Sophie, everyone else kinda went. So the manager who I'm slowly falling in love with, shows me the new restaurant, the new club downstairs, and the VIP room, which is totally pimped up. Then the best bit, he says if I ever want to get on the guest list, with free entry and free drinks, all I have to do is ring up and ask for him. That'll be every week then.

So we get outside and all our friends are there. Why? It was over 21's night and we got in! Ha! I look 21. We end up in Walkabout, where we fall in love with the Australian barmen and drink giant cocktails. Then my friends pull these two Irish guys, so of course I'm all 'Do you have any fit friends?', cuz I cannot resist Irish guys. Yum. And that's how I ended up with this address written on my hand.

Wednesday, May 18


I have an exam in 45 mins on reading poetry and I haven't actually read any poetry.


I had the worst walk to the exam! I had to do the other walk of shame. The kind where you're reading your texts while you walk. It got worse. I walked past a window and realised I was orange. I was a bit overenthusiastic with the bronzer and didn't notice, never mind, I thought, keep walking. It gets worse. I saw a guy I used to date. A normal person would have stopped and chatted, or just walked by. Not me. I attempted to run away only there was a parked car in the car. So there I was, scrambling around a car looking orange and flustered. Bet he wishes he still dates me...

And the exam. I actually wrote good stuff and it was fine. That natural luck of mine! I'm off to get fucked now.

And when I say fucked, I mean drunk fucked not sex fucked. I think we all know there's more chance of hell turning into a childs theme park than me actually finding a suitable man.

Bring on the martinis....

I just don't care.

I'm starting to believe that I am unhealthily lazy. No really. I think I sometimes confuse laziness with being laidback, but lets be honest. I'm lazy. I have an exam in 5 hours. I have attended less than 60% of the seminars, I have not been to any lectures, yet I got good marks on my essays. I'm probably not going to revise. In the past 24 hours all I have done is driven up to Leeds, spent 2 hours in the supermarket buying 10 items, and then sat comatose in front of the computer planning a party via msn with Rach, which isn't until July. And I've unpacked. If by unpacked you mean emptied the contents of my boxes and bags onto the floor.

I have not the slightest inclination to read Beowulf, or the poetry of Wordsworth. I'll sit in the exam and say to my coursemates that I wish I'd revised, but it's sadly not true. I don't regret dedicating the last week to My Wife and Kids reruns.

It's this laziness, I think, that has kept me in my Bridget Jones state. I can't be arsed to chase guys, call them, talk to them, ask them interesting questions. I figure if they like me, they can chase me. They probably think the same thing. Hence why in about a month I'll probably become a virgin again it's been that bloody long.

I think I need to get more bothered about stuff. I just don't have it in me to be motivated when there's nothing in it for me. This year I only have to get 40 out of 90 and right now my average is around 50. I know I'll get 80 at least next year, cuz I'm capable of trying so, so much harder, but right now I don't see the point. I just go through my life from job to job, man to man, self induced crisis to self induced crisis relatively unscathed.

A guy I was dating asked me why I never saw my Dad and I said 'Well he's on his third marriage and doesn't care about the kids from his first marriage, and he's losing interest in me, he's just a miserable man and frankly I can't be arsed with it.' he was so shocked. 'But he's your parent!' he said. I explained that he may have helped create me, but he hasn't been a father. I've had more parenting off my Sex and The City DVDs. And it doesn't bother me, I figure thats my life and I can't change that.

I hate being asked 'but don't you care?'. In my last relationship I was so given up on caring that when he broke up with me I was all 'whatever'. I didn't try and defend the accusations that I'd been cheating. Maybe the trick is, I need someone to make me care. I think guys nowadays are afraid to take control. And if a girl does, she appears clingy or bossy. I just hope that someone will come along and won't take any of my shit. And I'm damn sure he'll be the kind that calls you.

Monday, May 16

It's over! O-V-A-H!!!!!

I love Kath and Kim.

Today I got a stat counter, and oh my. It’s interesting. One person got here by searching for ‘girls getting pierced’. Nice. And another for ‘jaffa cake calories’. Right. I think it gives just too much info. I know exactly what everyone gets up to on my page! Now I’m scared, cuz if other people have this, they’ll think I’m stalking them cuz when I have nothing to do I pretty much live on the computer. Eeek! Oh, and someone visited here that lives in Peterborough, that’s not far from me, weird.

I think I preferred being ignorant.

Before I forget, everyone go to Mrs Mogul’s site and say hi and vote for her in this blogette thing. She’s wicked and a great writer and deserves to win. Go!

I got my car back!!!! Damn thing cost me £270 so no new shoes for a while. No new nothing actually, it’s about cleaned me out, but it drives so nicely now, sounds like a car not a tank. The mechanic told me what went wrong but I’ve totally forgotten all the words he used. But he did tell me that I do not, in fact drive a Ferrari, I drive a Ford Ka and if I continue to drive it like a Ferrari I will probably end up dead. So I drove like I was taught today. No revving, no racing, no inappropriate gears. I slowed down for corners, stuck to speed limits. Frankly, I’ve almost died twice in that car and I think I’m pushing my luck, so no more caning it down the motorway at 100mph. No, I’m going to be a safe driver now.

So, the first thing I did when I got my car was to drive straight into the city. I met Rach and drank about 10 litres of cranberry juice. I’m hooked. The stuff is addictive! Well my mother will be glad to know I won’t be getting cystitis. It was so good to go to bars, and it was so good catching up with Rach, she’s such a good friend. We had a good bitch about the feh that is our sex lives. Some ugly little man tried to chat me up- what is it with little men? I’m 5’4”, men under 5’9” need not apply, GOT IT???

No offence to British blokes that may read this, but where have all the good guys gone? Rach reckons we should clone Rob. All the guys out tonight were either too young, too old, had odd shoes, looked like perves or were just plain wrong. I’m not settling for David Brent look-alikes, I want a hornbag! And do no men have the ability to buy nice shoes? Cuz for the shoe shops they have in Nottingham, I was sorely disappointed at the amount of Uncle Knobhead white slip ons I was seeing!

ps. I just realised that post is littered with references to British TV. If you don’t watch The Office, Peter Kay or Kath and Kim, then you should. Kath and Kim is Australian. Never mind…..

Sunday, May 15


I have a horrendous hangover. The kind you only get when you were horrendously drunk the night before. The kind that stays with you all day. It's 4pm and still all I can consume is cranberry juice and ribena. I needed a drink last night, my Mum just got too much. Yesterday, the following situations took place:

1. Me reading a magazine, Mum walks in with her magazine.
Mum: I was just reading this thing about AIDs, as a sexually active young person I think you should take a look.
V: MUM!!!! (hides head in magazine) I don't have AIDs.
Mum: Well, if you're going to have sex you should know about these things.

2. In the supermarket. In front of loads of people.
V: I want to get some cranberry juice.
Mum: Oh do you have cystitis?

3. At the supermarket checkout. My friend Nick is right behind me.
Nick: V, hows things with you and James?
V: Eh, they aren't.
Mum: James? Who's James? You have a BOYFRIEND???
All I hear for the next hour is 'Who's James? What does he do? Is he rich?

Yeah, so maybe I'm being a spoilt bitch, but the lack of car makes me a prisoner in this house and it means I'm never far away from Mum and her boyfriend. So I rang up Rach and suggested she pick me up and take to the pub to get drunk.

I got drunk. I also saw James. His reaction was 'What are you doing here?' Er...I live here fool! and nice to see you too. Then he goes into this big long winded thing about how he lost his phone, couldn't even call his parents, only had the new phone two hours, blah blah blah, whatever. He didn't actually apologise.

So, I drank a hella lot of vodka, and I was smoking, sure sign I was wankered. I don't actually remember that much. I remember talking about handcuffs. I remember an old man laughing at me. I remember falling off my chair. I remember I couldn't walk.

I woke up and my first thought was 'Did I take my makeup off?' I'm such a girl. Turns out I did. Snaps for me. My mouth tasted like a tiny animal spent the night in there. Yum. I was in Jackie's bedroom, which was confusing for about 5 seconds. I went to put my flip flops on and they are destroyed. My designer flip flops shredded! What did I do last night?!

Today I need to have a talk with my Mum. I mean, I have my own house! I have a credit card, a car, I live alone, dammit. I don't need to visit her and be made to feel about 5. Like, I know she says 'You'll be treated like an adult when you act like one', but really. The other day I left a mug on the floor and instead of saying 'Can you put that in the dishwasher?' like a normal person, she goes 'Now where does this go? It doesn't belong on the floor does it?' in a silly voice. Mum. I am bursting with womanhood! I pay my own bills. Let me be!

I love living alone because I can do what I did last night and no ones tuts at me and says alcohol makes you fat. I can buy cranberry juice and not be accused of having a bladder infection. If I walk around in my pyjamas all day I don't get nasty looks. I know all Mums are hard work, but if I hear 'V, when you get married...' one more time I can't be held responsible for my actions.

Okay, I don't want this post to be about my mother. And please, I beg of you, no comments along the lines of 'She's your mother, you should love her for who she is' or 'You're a little bitch'. I can't be doing with it. Yes, she gave birth to me, and for that I am eternally grateful, but I need to do things on my own now.

In fact, I remember James saying last night that he wants to meet her. Why? How strange. I have an observation. I, personally, am really into my clothes. I am really concious of how I look. I know what suits me and I stick to it, with a bit of fashion thrown in. Right now, I'm loving whats in this season, but I know if I wear one of those hippy skirts I'll look about 2' 7" and 50 stone. Some people wear the whole hippy thing and remind me of the characters in 'Little Women'. All big skirts and blouses. Eeek!

What was my point? Fashion. Yes. Well, I hate being seen in the same outfit two times in a row. It takes me forever to get ready. Now every time I see James, he's wearing the same top. Is it just coincidence? I know he owns a lot of tops. But it bugs me. Weird huh? I pointed it out to Rach last night. We agreed we like well- dressed guys.

I was talking to his brother, Rob, who I'm friends with. He told me if I want him I can have him, I just have to chase him. I don't chase. I dunno what to do about this whole situation now. The way I'm thinking now, if he wants me he knows where to come and get it. If not, then he proved that all the good men are either involved or gay or live in some silly place, like London, or France.

Right, time for more cranberry juice.

Friday, May 13


Those of you lovely people that read this as a regular thing will know that things have been somewhat eventful for me lately. That is me. Other people go through life perfectly happy, just go about their business. They don't seem to get themselves into these ridiculous situations. I would complain if my life was boring, and boring it isn't, but sometimes I think, why me?

Sometimes I think I bring it on myself. As a single girl, you're bound to rack up a number of exs, dates and guys you slept with. And growing up in a small town, and then a student community, you're bound to bump into guys and create these situations. I accept that. As a temperamental driver, I'm bound to run into a few car probs. That, I accept quite willingly. I drink and like to go out, and that too, gets me into situations that I would rather not be in. I am perceptive, and notice things like windows that double as ceiling mirrors. I like to help people out, and I like chatting to people, which is how I end up being asked out by a crim in a police station.

You get the gist? I'm just saying, I realise that certain lifestyle choices have created circumstances that some may find laughable, amusing. In hindsight, they are, who wouldn't laugh that I find myself on dates with gangsters and little men? And, I feel like I shouldn't complain, but seriously. Read my archives. You couldn't make up half the stuff that happens to me.

Like, once I went on a horrendous date with a tiny man. I had to escape. Some weeks later it transpires he dated my friend too. And we see him around campus all the goddam time. There are over 60 000 students in this city. Why see him? On Wednesday, I drove home, car went insane, oh look! Theres my ex, theres all my shit in my car, including several empty bottles and my clothes, my underwear, my life. Oh look, it's a year exactly since I almost died last year. Isn't that the strangest thing?

NO!!! It is not. I am cursed. I don't want to complain. I hate people who moan, but this is where I put my thoughts. If you don't want to read what pisses me off then go and look at something happy. Go and look at cute babies or whatever. I need to vent.

I try and live my life good. I am not mean, I eat fair trade dammit! I am polite, I help if I can. Some things that have hapenned, unhappy childhood, parents split, bad relationships, blah blah blah. It happens to a lot of people. We get over it. But it's too much drama. It's like a soap opera. Always something going wrong, always something. I am honestly finding it hard to be an optimist.

Am I whinging? Yeah, thats probably not a word used anywhere but my area. It means to complain, get with the dialect!

Well. I'll tell you where this all came from. James, my whatever, is coming home tomorrow, and I'm here too, and we have the same friends, and, you know. I can feel it. I can feel the drama just waiting to happen. In my head, I can feel it- 'V___ (When I think I use my full name) might be happy. She might be over this guy and ready to move on. Lets shit all over it!'. I just know. It's too much to ask that I can say Hi, he can say Hi, and we can drink our beer in peace and pretend we never had sex, or the hottest kiss ever, or that I made him eggs on toast. Yeah, I know his phones been broke, or he's been busy, whatever. There are phones in this world. He could have called. I just know it's gonna be awkward. Like the time I STUPIDLY slept with two guys at work (not at the same time, get your mind out the gutter!) and then it was the three of us in the staff room pretending there hadn't been some serious exchanging of fluids going on.

Hell, I don't know what to do. Should I ring up my family in Venezuela and ask them to go to church and pray for me? Should I get some clairvoyant to predict my future and take necessary action? Or should I just grow up and deal? I made my hypothetical bed right? I should lie in my provberial bed?

Thursday, May 12

Someone's watching me...

Yesterday was one of those days. You know? The kind where you reach a point and you don't think you can carry on? Well I had good reason. Not cuz of some guy, or some weight gain, or even cuz I felt sad. No. I almost died yesterday. I'm not shitting you, I had a car accident.

I came off the motorway, and was driving down my road, and then I completely lost control of the car. It swerved all over the road, including the wrong side of the road. I tried to steer, but it was gone so I slammed the brakes on and missed hitting a tree by half a metre. I have never been so scared in my life. If there had been a car coming the other way, or I had stopped a few seconds later, I would have hit something at 60 mph, and would almost certainly be dead or seriously injured.

But theres more. I got out of the car when it hapenned, obviously in a bit of a state. Then my ex pulls up next to me in his car. He saw the whole thing. He calmed me down, sorted some stuff out for me and then left when my friend came to get me in her car. Why was he there? Then I got home and realised it was May 11th. On May 11th last year I crashed my car and wrote it off, again, I almost died. I can't help but read into it.

Anyway, I'm fine, and the car is fine. I need a new wheel, two new tyres and a service. It's either the tracking or the power steering that needs sorting out, but it shouldn't cost too much. If it had hapenned half an hour earlier I would have been on the motorway, going at 90mph, and god knows what would have hapenned then.

I just don't believe the stuff that goes on in my life. I couldn't sleep last night for thinking of all the alternative endings for yesterday. I can't explain it. Should I just not leave my house on May 11th? And whats with my ex being right behind me? Why wasn't there a car coming the other way? It's a busy road. I feel so sick. Does someone want me dead? Or should I be optimistic and assume I'm being watched? But by what? It's all too weird to be coincidence.

Wednesday, May 11

Back in the day....

'Come on Jax, I spent most of my teens dating ugly, unintelligent men because I believed everything is worth a shot. Take it from me, if you aren't happy, get the hell out. Or you'll wake up one morning and realise you've spent 20 months dating a fat racist neanderthal who spends half his life stoned.'

Isn't it great how you can be totally honest with your closest friends? This is what I said to my friend last night. Jax is a proper old-school friend. She's one of the group of friends who I'll say absolutely anything to. We went though our skater girl phase, our indie phase, the hippy phase, all together. We discovered festivals, clubbing, drinking, smoking (both kinds), sex, all of that, together.

Anyway, the above comment, I would not say to anyone but them. They know my truth. Jax made me write down all the guys I've slept with. Its not short, and not pretty. I appreciate her making me do it though. We concluded two very important things about each other: Me, I need to wait more before putting out to avoid sleeping with dicks, and Jax, she needs to think about what she really wants, if she thinks she can do better she needs to get out. Isn't it great what you can learn from each other? Together, me and my school friends have 24 years dating experience.

For some people, looking at old photos makes you feel nostalgic, happy, wished you still looked like that. Not so for us. The other day, I was with 3 of my school friends, and Ali, idiot, brought photos. It was a mental hernia. I used to dye my hair red with henna, I customized my clothes. This was before hair straighteners, before eyebrow pencil. We looked like hippy lesbians. Just awful. And the boyfriends? Holy crap. Clearly I wasn't bothered by dating total stoners.

There are some good photos though. Like, our first gig, our year 11 group pic, our year 11 leavers social, our holidays, our results days, our year 13 ball, birthdays... I can see why my Mum hated the way I looked though- my hair colour changed every week, my ears were (still are) heavily pierced, I didn't own a pair of jeans less than 20 years old and I never had a cigarette out of my mouth. This is only three years ago, it's quite scary. The pictures I posted yesterday are from when I stopped being like that.

More than anything, I remember the music. I was in secondary school from 1997 until 2004. It started with the Spice Girls, went on to Alanis Morissette, then Foo Fighters, Red Hot Chili Peppers (so year 10 lying on the school field listening to Cali), then The Strokes and it ended with Joss Stone and Kanye West. We saw so much live music, we discovered every genre, from every time. We were babies during Nirvana, Pixies, Sonic Youth, Primal Scream, we were 9 at the height of Britpop. Didn't stop us from reliving the whole thing again though.

This time of year, summer, always makes me think like this. Each summer has been better than the last. Last summer we were 18 and were legally drinking in the pub. When we were 17 we were learning to drive and then illegaly drinking in the pub. At 16 we had finished our GCSEs and discovering sex. 15 was when I first smoked weed.Now we're 19 and I don't think there's anything left to do! We all have houses and cars, we've done and seen it all.

I remember listening to the Ataris cover of 'Boys of Summer', years ago, and talking about where we'd be in a years time. I forget how exciting it is to be 16 and knowing everything will change in the next 5 years. I never thought I'd stop cutting my own hair, or stop making my own clothes. There's still a bit of the 16 year old me left though. Take a look at my CD collection, it shocks most people. I still wear 7 earrings. I still drink alcohol from the bottle. And I can still make a bong.

What do you remember most about being 16?

Tuesday, May 10


Today is the first day I have cried over a guy. Am I crazy? I'm not even crying over the right guy. I'm crying over a guy who treated me so badly, I have friends who say they will hit him if they ever see him again. Jamie. He's my Mr Big. The one it never quite ended with, I keep going back and back and getting more and more hurt. He's like a drug. I ran into him today.

I was at the student union. I won't go into our history, but I'll say he has seriously screwed me over and I have seriously screwed him over right back. But I ran into him. I haven't seen him for months, but just looking at him. I could feel myself slipping. Then he texted me- Was so nice to see you, must meet up, blah blah blah. I could have said no, I could have lied, hell, I didn't even have to reply.

I have yet to find someone who makes me feel so strongly. Theres been times when I've hated him, resented him. Times when I've wanted him so badly it hurt. The first time I kissed him I felt it in my entire body. There are no words for the sex. I have never felt so much pure, uninhibited passion. Isn't it weird that passion means rage and infatuation? Cuz that's exactly what it is.

So I got home, threw up and broke down in floods of tears. I'm not as strong as I thought I was. The minute James disappears of the face of this earth, my past comes back with a vengance like I've never seen to drag me down a little further. I can't even see him without getting in a state. No ones going to hold me back. I just keep texting back, keep going back.

I'm so fucking angry I could scream. Cuz I'm young I think it's okay to just leave myself to open to whoever wants to come along and screw me over. They play me like a game. James has hurt me. Really hurt me. Jamie has also hurt me and will continue to do so until I say game over.

You think you're in control. You think as long as you do what makes you happy you're living your life. Scrap that. I'm not happy. I have been single for nearly 12 months. Over half the men I've slept with have been in the past 12 months. What have I gained from this? I'm still naive. I still haven't found my fairytale. Jamie sent shivers down my spine every time he kissed me. He could be anything if we just got past one night.

And James. What makes it worse is that I liked him. Really liked him. I'll be honest with you here- I'm a cheater. I find it hard to be faithful. I've gone from man to man thinking the next one will be the one I don't want to cheat on. Then I get bored and go back to the Jamies of this world. Then I know where I stand. Yes, we'll have sex, yeah we'll get drink and talk all night, but it's just one night. Will I ever get past one night?

I honestly thought that was it with James. I found the male me, and what did he do? He did what I've been doing to guys to me for years. I hate myself for being so young. My inexperience makes me think it's okay to let myself to be treated like this.

I once got asked why I cheated on a guy, the last one I proper went out with. 'I couldn't resist him'. That's what I said. I'm stuck. If I go out with a guy like Jamie we end up screwing around cuz we can't be tied down. I go out with a nice guy and I screw around because I can. Can I break the cycle? Do I want to?

I go for guys that hurt me because I crave excitement. I go for guys that don't hurt me so I can hurt them to make myself believe I'm in control. I let myself behave like this because I can. It's so childish.

It's not even like I make the effort. James hasn't called me. Do you see me actually call him for a change?

I don't know how to end this post. I came in frustrated at my own weakness and needed to get this down. Now I feel like I need to grow up. I'm crying at a situation I created myself. For once, I put my hopes on someone and when it didn't work out I run into Jamie by chance and see no reason why I shouldn't.

James's rejection sent me flying. It shocked me. I should have known better. I have never, ever, hated myself for my age so much.

My best friend.

Today is my best friends birthday. I know, I'm too old to use that title 'best friend', but she really is. I've known Ali forever, and ever. I couldn't go home yesterday, so I just wanted to write about how great she is, and how much fun we have. The photo belowis me and her when we were 17. Shes wearing school uniform! That seems like ages ago. She's also licking my ear or something, god knows. She must have been drunk.

That was our results day for year 12. Shortly after that, we went on holiday and that changed everything. She became a friend I know I'll keep forever. Some say I corrupted her on that holiday. Not true. I never had so much fun in my life. I was 17, first holiday without parents. Lethal combination.

So, I persuaded her to pull this guy, below.

He was actually quite cute. Jimmy, his name was. I got it on with his friend Paul, he was fit too. Photo below is me molesting Jimmy!

Poor guy looks frightened. I just look drunk. That was the night we broke into a restaurant and ate all their ice cream. Criminal, yes I know, what can I say?

Ali and I have spent every summer since we were 14 chasing the boys of our little town. Now she has a boyfriend, but she'll always be my pulling partner.

So, happy birthday Ali. Remember the good times. And don't forget I'm coming home this summer so warn your boyfriend!

Monday, May 9

Also utterly pointless.

I just made a massive apple and cinnamon cake and ate half of it. It hadn't even cooled down yet. Wow, that shit was yummy.

I opened the door to my kitchen and someone's blokey piece was there in his pants. He looks like Miranda's neighbour ex, Robert ( sex and the city). I think I came there and then!

Why aren't there more men walking around in their underwear in this world?

Since discovering I have a ceiling mirror it's been haunting me. As I type, I can see myself in my pyjamas. It's like being on Big Brother.

I have far too much time on my hands.

Hello fit man in my kitchen!

A few samples of the GOD that is Dr Robert. His real name is Blair Underwood. Whatever, he's in my kitchen and Samantha didn't know what he looked like.

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He's in my kitchen! Why can't I have one?

Utterly pointless.

Do you ever think you have too much time on your hands? Probably not. Well, as it happens I do. I'm in that weird limbo between finishing uni, and exams. It's too early to cram and yet I have nothing to do. So, I don't want to go home and turn into a chubby barfly again. So what to do? Not a lot, it would seem. My life currently consists of watching dvds, eating, playing with my hair, rearranging my room, and not much else.

Yesterday, I was lying in bed, I'd just got out of the shower and went for a nap. When I woke up I could see myself on the ceiling. Confused? Don't be. You see, I have a skylight above my bed, and I can't believe I haven't noticed it before, but when its dark, and the lights are on, it's like a ceiling mirror. Pervy, huh? Now I know what I look like in bed. You look so much nicer lying down, it's weird. Like, your boobs look all perky, your cellulite disappears somewhere and even your thighs look slim. Try it, it's really weird. Warning though, when you stand up it goes back to being normal. Arse begins to look like Australia again, etc.

So this is what it's come down to- my nights are now spent exploring the many uses of my reflective window. If someone had ever bothered to call me, said window may have been put to good use.

I cannot motivate myself to revise, I have no sense of urgency. Like today, I had stuff to do, and it took me all day. I had to go to the doctors, go to uni and see my spanish teacher and the philosophy dept, and then get food to make apple and cinnamon loaf. Not much? It took me hours.

Part of it is the NHS's fault. The doctor, after feeling my liver and almost giving me a hernia sent me to hospital for blood tests. That took about five days. Then I faffed around uni for ages. My spanish teacher insisted we speak only in spanish, and god, it was painful. Then I had to traipse all around town to find bloody baking powder. Does no one bake in this country anymore?

So now, I'm just sat here with so much time again. My Mum said today that I really should consider speed dating, because 'Well everyone else has a boyfriend don't they?'.

There is a lot wrong with the world today.

I hate this post. Bleurgh. Talk to me about something fun.

Saturday, May 7

A little of what I believe in.

Yesterday, Annalisa asked me about the 'Make Poverty History' band I have on top of my blog. I said I would explain things fully today. I don't expect anyone to agree with me, I just think it's about time I said something about it. So here it is.

I've always been acutely aware of world politics, trade, and business, I learnt a lot about it in school. It is partly because my family live in South America that I won't drink coke or eat nestle products. Coca cola, pepsi cola, and nestle all exploit their workers across the world, including South America. Don't try and tell me any different, because I've seen it myself when I've been there. I then learnt about other products, such as chocolate, coffee, tea, fruit, and honey, which also come from abroad and are not fairly traded. So, for some years now, I've made a concious decision to consume fairly traded food. The fair trade foundation puts their mark on all fair trade food, and tells you what they do in that country.

For example, my bananas come from the Windward Islands. The farmers recieve a premium that has paid for a bridge to give farmers better access to their fields, and has paid for better education facilities. People always tell me they can't afford to buy fair trade, whichis total bollocks. Normal bananas cost around £1.10, fair trade bananas are £1.12. It only costs a few pence more, in most cases, to buy fair trade, and don't tell me you can't afford that.

Organic food and fair trade food are inextricably linked. Organic food is better for the environment, and supports smaller farms and manufacturers. There are a million reasons why it's better to eat organic, but I do it because it is better for me, better for the environment, and it supports my community. I shop at Org, and get organic milk, eggs, yogurt, tofu, veggies, and random things like tahini, quinoa, and weird cheese. At my supermarket, Sainsbury's, I get fair trade coffee, tea, honey, fruit and juice. I make my own bread, soup, and sauces. It's no extra effort at all.

This is just who I am. I have never imposed this upon anyone, and don't tend to preach about it. If people ask, I'll tell them. I get challenged sometimes about it, but I believe in it very strongly, and will defend it. From it, I've become involved in things like Make Poverty History, Make Trade Fair, lots of things. I just believe there are things that are within our power to be changed in this world. I don't think it's fair that there is a massive difference between the amount we pay for internationally traded goods, and the amount paid to the people who grow them.

It also affects where I buy my clothes from, I get a lot of it from the Traidcraft online store, and I know it hasn't been made in a sweatshop. I bank with the Co-op, who don't invest in any government or business which fails to uphold basic human rights, or any business whose links to an oppressive regime are a continuing cause for concern. No, I'm not a hippy, or a vegertarian, or an eco warrior, or any of the stereotypes attached to what I believe in.

I did Governament and Politics A level at school, and since then I've always followed current affairs. I voted Green party in the European election, because our energy sources, like oil and coal, will run out in my lifetime. The rainforest, our source of oxygen, is quickly decreasing. The British govt is starting to take notice, there is an national reclyling system now, and they are looking into renewable energy sources.

I simply believe that there are ways to change the way things work. People in LEDCs had entire civilisations when we were still living in huts. Europe, in it's quest to conquer the world did a lot of wrong. Now because of our actions, third world countries are struggling to make livelihoods and yet we still exploit them. We use them for cheap labour. Millions of poor farmers can't sell what they grow because rich countries are forcing poor countries to accept imports of cheap, often heavily subsidised, food. It saddens mewhen I go to Venezuela and see my family struggle to make a living from the pittance they receive from Western oil companies. They sell fruit to buyers, which then gets sold over here for 10 times more.

This is why I bank ethically, I consume fairly traded goods, and I support local organic farms. I think trade should be fair, and if I can do something to make it fair then I will.

Friday, May 6

It's all good.

Oh, today is such a happy day. Even though my country is going to be run by Tony the tosser for the next 5 years, and I will be paying back a small fortune in student loans for the rest of my life, I am happy today. First, I got my last essay in today! Second, I have a proper writing job! Third, I have a summer job!

Shall I elaborate? Well, a while ago I applied to write for website that I frequently go on to look at city reviews. It gives a slightly bitchy review of UK cities, their bars, restaurants, places to pull, etc. Well, they were looking for writers, and I thought, why the hell not? And applied. And basically, I'm reviewing five restaurants for next thursday. I have to talk about food, clientele, atmosphere, drinks prices and shit. And it's aimed at graduates and students so it's really funny and witty. I got the email telling me it's going into a book as well, so I'm so happy. It's such good experience for me.

And the other job is working in Lush. Well, potentially working. I have an interview on the 16th, well, group interview, and I should get the job- Rach works there and her manager is apparantly very interested. It means I get to work in the city, and I can pay my car insurance, my rent, it's all good.

Speaking of car insurance, I got a really good deal on mine- it's £500 now, and thats more than halved since last year.

It's impossible not to be happy today.

Isn't it weird that there's normally only one good thing going on your life? Does anyone else get this? Like right now, my love life (I HATE that phrase) has gone to shit, but everything else is just peachy. My diet, which isn't really a diet anymore, I've lost my appetite for starchy food now, is going great. My jeans are looser, and I feel more confident about how I look. And, as I mentioned, I'm getting a job, I'm getting proper writing experience, and Uni is finished.

Given the choice, I'm not sure I would choose a relationship over other aspects of my life. I'm so happy today- and it's all my own doing.

Don't need no man to turn me on...

Thursday, May 5

Election day!

So, I got a little drunk last night, went to a police station, got asked out, went to a curry house, got ignored, came home, and got in a state over a guy that I don't even call my boyfriend. But you know what? Fuck him. Yes. Fuck him. If he can't be bothered to call for the best part of a week when he said he would, then I'm not going to waste any more brain space on him.

Yeah, so I was willing to pursue this, hell, I was even willing to have a relationship with him. And I know not calling someone is not the worst crime in the world. But this is me. I don't like being messed around. I could just text him, but I'm not going to chase something that's not hapenning.

I get accused of cutting guys out of life, and this is why. I could have dated prison guy. I could have dated all the other guys I've deemed unsuitable. But I'm holding out for someone that's going to call, that's going to give it to me straight. I have too many years ahead of me to settle for anything less than perfect. And if I end up single, then it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

There are more important things to worry about anyway, like the election today. I did my second ever election today! I had a choice between voting Leeds Central or voting at home, at Sherwood. But this constutuency is my home now, so I figured it's better to vote here. It was so much simpler voting in the European election, you just vote which party you want to get a seat. But this time, you have to consider all sorts. Either way, I voted Liberal Democrats. If Labour get back in govt I will cry. And if Conservative's get it, then I'm moving to France.

In my area- the Brit ghetto- there's actually a seat for BNP. For those of you not in the know, the BNP- British National Party- are all for British independance from the European Union, and they want to extradite a lot of foreigners. Their leader recently got done for racially aggravated assault, or something similar, and I swear if they get a seat here I will move back to Nottingham.

Right, enough political rant. I finished classes today! No more until October. I have three exams, then I can drink and party. I can forget about a certain hot kisser who doesn't want me. Not for conversation. Not for sex. Nada! But like I said, fuck him!

Wednesday, May 4

Yes, I'm drunk. Again.

oh today was so weird. After all the business with choosing options. Then I had to go into the police station- don't ask. And at the police station there was a crazy guy talking to me. He was so racist, and just horrid and I wanted to hit him, it was that bad. Then another guy came in and we were chatting. And I just thought, you know, just chatting to a guy. Then he shook my hand and it was all sweaty. Then he fucking asked me out. I was all 'huh?!' and avoided it. Cuz I like James. And I don't think I could like him as much as I like James.

Ah, so then we went for a curry. It was really nice, I had chicken korma and LOTS of wine. Then pub. In pub was a guy who went to school with Rachel. You know Rach, I do mention her a lot. So then, I thought this guy was really nice, as opposed to prison guy, but then he was all weird. So now I'm at home, and James hasnt rung me and he said he would. I mean, if hes going to manchester, shouldnt he want to see me now? while I'm still here?

I know, I'm drunk and if I was sober I wouldnt even think this. But I dont know. I've had vodka. I feel like if I let myself like him I will end up hurt. I am never, never going to find anyone if I keep this attitude. Prison guy was absolutley fine, quite good looking, hell, and quite rich. I would text him now if we'd swapped number. Like an idiot I walked away. Fear. Why?

So now I'm sat here, so sad, listening to Jill Scott songs. I'm scared I'm going to forget how to like someone, let alone learn to love. I always do this, one tiny thing will happen, like one night a guy won't call me and I get so defensive. This is why I stuck to guys that I had no future with. I am so scared right now. It's weird. I've been thinking about him all night. I feel like ending it all now though. I'm not sure. I'm just not sure.

Gah!! part deux

Leeds University Informations Systems and Support you can go to hell!!!!

I have had more luck pulling gay men than contacting an actual person at your offices.

Thanks to the university's use of 'online module enrollment' I am sure that if I ever get on to the system, all that will be left is some crappy course like Civil War Literature, in which I will have to rehash the eyesore that is Paradise Lost, taught by some hairy, tweed wearing professor with bad teeth. Thanks!

No, because of you, I will not get onto the Language in Time and Space module, which I am over qualified for anyway, and which will give me great groundings in my journalistic career. No.

NO!!! When I try and get a job after graduation, what use will Paradise Lost be? Yes, absolutely fuck all use.

And will I get onto the course for American Literature? Hell no!! I'll be something useless and shit, like Shakespeare in Film or, god forbid, William Blake, in which case I'll just slit my wrists now.

So thanks, ISS, for ruining my day, my university career, and eventually my life. You have not responded to my emails. Apparently I do not exist in the English department. And apparantly, I do not deserve to enjoy any of my modules next year.

Sleep with your eyes open, person-at-ISS.


After a phone call to the school of english secretary, I actually got onto the courses I wanted to do. In semester 1, I'm doing English in Time, Medieval Renascence, and Writing America. And semester 2 is English in Space, 18th Century Literature, and Contested American Spaces.

What should have been a quick thing on the internet took me 3 hours. But I'm so, so, happy that I got onto the American Lit courses, cuz that's what I want to specialize in next year. I get to do some amazing books next year, like Little Women, and Gulliver's Travels, which were both massive childhood favourites.

However, James is moving to Manchester to do his training. So he'll be there all summer. I don't know what to make of it, cuz it's not like I'm his girlfriend. But how come, when anything nice happens, it all just falls apart? I'm really happy that I'll be on a really good course next year, but this summer I'll be in Nottingham and he's miles away in Manchester.

Why, when something works out, does something else just shit all over it?

Tuesday, May 3


Hi! I know, I have been gone for some time. I am just completely bombarded with work right now, and I went home this weekend, and it's too sunny to sit on the computer. So, in a rare moment of not being a twat, my computer decided to work with me on audioblogs! So I heard everyone that has one. Then I thought to myself, wouldn't it be cool if I had one! I have an accent that people seem to go for, and I want to prove that I'm not a posh southerner, as I suspect some of you think I am. So I took myself off the website, and the pissing thing only works in America! Why?!

So if blogger would have realised that people outside of America also have blogs, you would have had a fun audioblog today. And yeah, it would have brightened up your day proper wouldn't it? But no. Sorry. Bloggers a twat.

Hot kisser James moved to Leeds yesterday, and phoned me, all forlorn, asking to go for a drink in town. I'd just been into town shopping, and I spent, like £100 on clothes and make up. So I looked all nice, new top, new flip flops, hair looking good, and really nice make up. I started to walk into town, and BAM!!!! Moment Of Horror #1 hits me. There's a thing in my top. It's scratching me. I start to scream. I suspect it is a bee. I'm terrified of bees. So I start to hit myself and generally look as though I'm having some sort of fit. Then it falls out. My necklace. Not a bee. A necklace. I was freaking out because my necklace tried to attack me.

Well, never mind, and I carry on my jolly way into town and, oh look, Moment Of Horror #2. Rain. It pisses it down with rain. My new white top is soaked, and slightly orange cuz my make up has run into it. It's also wet, clingy, and transparent. My hair is dripping. But that's no problem, I figure I'll dry my hair in the loos, and I have make up in my bag. But no.

Moment Of Horror #3. Wind. Hello Wind. Blowing inmy face and making my hair look like it's trying to escape from my head. Gah!!!!!

I turned up to the pub looking like a porn star. Windblown hair, that in retrospect, was kinda sexy once it settled down, but not for the pub. Wet clothes, slightly smudgy make up, and I was all nervous about bees. Sometimes I think James is very brave wanting to actually be seen in public with me, because I am such a disaster. It was sooo nice seeing him though.

I walked home all happy. Then Moment Of Horror #4 happens, because it's just too much to ask for any minute of my life to pass in peace. A drunk man on my road flashes me. Yes, I saw his man stick.

And on that note, I better get back to revision.