another year, another cheer, another beer

I don't drink beer, but vodka and pink lemonade doesn't have the same ring to it. I also nearly wrote bear which would have made no sense at all.


My brain is almost completely frazzled after an hour of cramming every possible idea I had into an essay plan before I go away for the weekend for a 21st birthday/ new year piss up, so you can imagine I will be non functional by the time I arrive home on Sunday so essay plan needs to be done in advance. But it has left me feeling not too Thursday (I know it's Friday) enthusiastic but I will try and tap something fun and interesting into my keyboard.


With it being new years eve tomorrow and all (as well as a certain friend's birthday eve who's name rhymes with Jamie) I thought I'd do a new year blog, you know how I like to be topical. I quite like new years. It gives you something to look forward to after you've opened that last present and Christmas ends. I hate seeing anything Christmassy after the big day, it's like seeing a bottle of wine when you're hungover and you realise how much you over indulged. So yes new years is great what with an excuse to get absolute trollied and kiss any willing stranger within 10ft of you. However I have to come to have a profound hate of new years resolutions. 

(see insufferably dull, if you ask me new years resolutions are a great big kill joy)

The other day someone, someone old, asked me what my new years resolutions were. Firstly, that's always such a boring fall asleep in your food conversation because everyone always just says 'lose weight' which is a no brainer seeing as the average tubby little Englishmen eats about 6000 calories on Christmas day. And I secondly don't enjoy this question because she says 'resolutionS' meaning I'm meant to have more than one. Resisting the urge to just give her the Jenna Marbles face (youtube if confused), I politely reply the one about losing weight and that's pretty much it. This woman then further ticked me off with the surprise that I only had one resolution. 

(Jenna Marbles 'the face'- another mention Jenna? Promise she won't be in the blog next week)

It's not my fault if I've been that perfect all year that I don't require to have a great list of wrongs to right! Isn't it a good thing to be satisfied enough with my life that I don't feel like I need to improve on it? I hate people who decide to have really unattainable resolutions like 'get married' or 'meet Daniel Radcliffe' cause chances are your just setting yourself up to fail. My new years resolution last year was 'to eat a kebab' and I did that and I'm totally satisfied with my achievements. 

(Now if that isn't a step in the right direction for new years I don't know what is)

The whole point about new years, surely is the fact that it is a NEW year. So surely you don't want to be dragging all of last years baggage into the new year. Its a whole blank canvas for you to trip up and make mistakes that you did last year all over again. I've had a few embarrassing incidents last year and a couple particular foolish drunken ones that I'd rather just say 'Happy new year lets forgive and forget to.' Not how can I further complicate these issues by working out how to resolve them! A new years resolution assumes that you completely f**ked up the previous year and it needs rectifying. To be honest I already have two assignments due in and I could do without the extra stress! 


I always do mourn the previous year a little. Everything that happened in it is suddenly no longer part of your life, it's all suddenly last year. I always find it seems saddest with long distance friendships cause all of a sudden the last time you saw them was last year. 


So after that long, probably not very enjoyable rant seeing as it's simply seeping with pessimism, I have realised that I hate new years resolutions even more than I first thought. I think the only way you can possibly deal with losing the year is to pat yourself on the back for surviving another year and plan many things to look forward to.

As for any new years resolutions I guess all the generic ones go for everyone, lose weight, work harder, be nice, my only personal one might be to remember more of my nights out...starting 1st January.


Happy New Year!

You fit me better than my favourite sweater

You are all really lucky. This isn't an opinion this is fact. It is Christmas on Sunday, I have work tomorrow and 2 deadlines for early January so I was so close to saying 'NO Martha Thursday this week my friends.' But yet here I am, the picture of good will, typing about a fashion nerd Christmas special trash for your pleasure.

Albeit it's gonna have to a fluffy subject this week, I'm not going to be going into the ins and outs of anything as a result of cheap Cava leaving me blind and an over dose of mince pies has chubbed out my fingers so that they're too fat to type, so short and sweet and simple is the style this week.

Now as anyone who knows me in person will know I enjoy a good sweatshirt. They are my staple hangover outfit. I can slip into a huge hideously ridiculous jumper and rock it with a bun on my head and just look shabby chic. And seeing as a great deal of the festive period is spent in a whirl wind of hangover (especially for those of you who cant afford Lanson and spend your evenings crying over the holiday whilst cracking out your collection of 6 year old raffle winning Chardonnay, and boohooing about your pathetic 2011), I thought what better way to celebrate Christmas fashion nerd style than with a festive count down (channel 4 styley) of Christmas sweaters.

1. The one you could actually wear

Don't get me wrong, I completely am in love with Christmas jumpers and have been wearing them long before they were anywhere near trendy, but I understand the slight social faux pas that is attached with running around in the real world with a jumper bright enough to blind a small mammal. However this particular one seems to make me want to sit in my room and cry my eyes out a little bit because I want it SO much. Unfortunately so does the rest of the nation as Jack Wills are completely sold out. Sorry to burst that bubble and waste precious blog time.

2. The one to keep muggers at bay

Here's one that would make your mum happy. You could stumble home blind drunk waving £50 notes through the streets of Manchester's Mersey side in the pitch black and no one would touch you. This gorgeous piece of wool finery lights up and flashes acting as a festive flair to keep anyone from coming within a mile of you. And the best part? Its only (tone of sarcasm here) £42.99 from cheesychristmasjumpers.com! Hurry, I hear Anna Wintour is hoping to snap up the whole collection.




3. The one for the shy jumper connoisseur. 

If you aren't accustom to wearing mad clothing quite as much as perhaps, Noel Fielding and you feel a little like a crimbo cardigan virgin but feel that you should still be a part of the festivities then have no fear! This darling little jumper is very pretty but play it safe enough so as not to offend anyone. £26 pop-boutique.com






4. One for conversation starters

So are you one of those popular people who go to endless Christmas parties? Do you find yourself struggling to start conversations? Or maybe you just feel like your political views just aren't being voiced? Well look no further than this Barack Obama festive number. Guaranteed to turn heads! $49.99 myuglychristmassweater.com (clue is in the name.)





6. The one for the mistletoe

So maybe unlike me you are not actually planning on stuffing your face with crunchie bars (currently doing this) over Christmas then rolling rather than walking back to university. Maybe you actually plan on getting some kind of action this winter? If so good luck to ya and this is the jumper for you. Imagine how cute, he'll (or she'll, PC) think 'hey she's quirky and fun with that Christmas jumper plus she looks cute and I can actually see her waist, unlike that girl in the Obama sweater! I think I'll give her a kiss.' (If you actually find a human that says this exact sentence avoid them at all costs.) Put a pair of furry ear muffs with this bad boy and you're all set. £30 topshop.com




7.The one that is imaginary but would keep you warm

So here is another sweater from that bitch over at sexy-sweaters, who designs all of these beautiful sweat shirts but doesn't actually produce them. But this would be ideal, Christmassy but not too Christmassy, would be really warm and do its job properly as a sweater, plus is pretty. I'm actually going to ban myself from going on her blog cause I get sad every time I can't purchase a sweater with Ariel's face on. sexy-sweaters.com



So yeah, I'd say that's enough Christmas jumpers to keep you going for a good few days. I realise that I am being terribly sexist in most of my offerings and would like to point out that most of these websites provide male alternatives to the jumpers pictured. Right, now that my home work is finished I'm off to watch the made in Chelsea Christmas spesh! Thuper duper excited! More excited than my own Christmas! 

And so to end, Merry Crimbo from me and the gang

(next weeks blog is about new years resolutions, maybe mine should be to get a life.)

Haters gonna hate

why do girls hate each other?

This is something  that I can't work out why it happens, and it's something I really hate but it's something that can't be helped like pubic hair.


I've been thinking about this all week. Ever since I sat on the bus. Sat on the bus listening into peoples conversations (which is one of my complete favourite past times.) These girls sat in front of me were laughing and giggling and just having the most fun about to go off to jamie's italian for a Christmas meal. Fair enough, but all I could think was 'urrrgh bloody bitches, they're parents are obviously loaded if they can swan off to jamie's italian this late into term. Bet they're boyfriends are rich too, hate them.'


Why? What a self important judgemental bitch I am! These poor girls were just going for a nice meal and being happy about it and I hated them? Ridiculous. And we all do it. Jenna Marbles had it to a T in her video 'Sluts on Halloween' when she did the impression of girls hating in each other 'oh my goddd, have you seen that girl? Look at what she's wearing, who does she think she is?' (watch it you'll get it.) 

(I'm so pleased with this, going up in the technological world)

Who does she think she is? WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS? Well in girl world she's probably quite paranoid and self conscious as it is, is very pleased that she's managed to put together a half decent outfit. She's definitely not done it to purposefully piss any other girl off.Who is this person that you have to think you are to get away with an outfit? What has happened to us? What has happened to the girl power and spice girl generation? Why do girls hate each other?

(Looks like posh is on the war path cause Scary is pulling off the posh look better)

Pretty sure a lot of girls hate me, and probably with good reason to, these reasons I shall not reveal because it will probably condemn me to a life of solitude. But I know about these girls that hate me. I dread to think about the ones I don't know about, about how many girls have sat behind me on the bus thinking 'gosssh look at her, wearing odd earrings, she has hair that Wilma Flintstone would be proud of, Jesus are those creole earrings  she's wearing? who does she think she is Lily f**king Allen?' certain amount insecurities expressed there!


I was trying to compile a list of reasons as to why we would all irrationally hate each other. I was trying to think of girls who me and my friends all hate and the reasons why. And the number one hate mission we seem to have is sluts, slutty girls. I thought about what constitutes a slut in our eyes. These days you don't even have to be slutty to be a slut. In our eyes anyone who wears a skirt above the knee, ever kissed anyone ever in a club, has a hair colour that comes from a bottle, wears eyeliner or has slept with more than one person could easily constitute as a slut.

 There are of course the girls who are little more obvious than that (who's looking at you Dolly Parton!) But maybe they're just being honest where we aren't. Yeah I might look class in a Glass stepping into ramshackle in my Ted Baker dress but if my list is anything to go by I am just as slutty as these other girls!  Maybe we're all just jealous.

All of these things I have been saying all just indicate that I'm jealous. We're jealous, we are. I didn't hate those girls on the bus because I was completely anti Jamie Oliver or children being given money by their parents or because I am so feminist I don't believe in boyfriends. No it was because I wished I was on my way to stuff my face with carbonara and wash it all down with chardonnay whilst flicking my perfectly quaffed hair instead of going home to microwave a jacket potato that looks more like a tree it's been in my fridge so long and hacking my way through an essay plan.


It's no wonder there's so much girl on girl hate. If you think about songs we sing along to when we're after a guy they all encourage us to hate our fellow sisters. "Don't you touch my boyfriend" how about boyfriend why don't you stop prowling after other girls and stay faithful to me? Or "hey hey, you you I don't like your girlfriend" you don't know his girlfriend, you just don't like the fact he's with her not you. Don't hate your girls hate the men, maybe we attack the girls because we know how to deal with them, we feel like we can take them on?


And of course as soon as your friend hates someone you have to hate them to, that's not an option. And from the evidence I have gathered she probably hates them for silly reasons so why all the hate? (I sound like I would quite happily fit into Destiny's Child or The Eurythmics with all my sister gospel) Though apparently we're all very aware of why we all hate each other so much, every girl I asked knew it's cause they were jealous. 

(none of them look like Beyonce?)

Trying to tie this all back into to fashion is not proving easy. I've realised that I've started to go off on a tangent these last few posts and just ranting rather than being a fashion nerd. However one of my newest friends in my life helped me out, she's slightly older (not much though I hope I've not offended) so these are wise words. 

When I asked why do girls hate each other? She replied 'It's always down to what girls think of you, a guy doesn't notice what shoes you're wearing, you did it to make girls jealous.' This is true, when I detag myself in a photo it's usually because I think 'sugar (usually use a ruder word) I don't look half as nice as those other girls' I don't judge myself as an individual, I look at myself in comparison to the rest of the group. I'm a spoilt brat, I want to look the best.  I may as well start wearing one of those t shirts that 5 people can fit in so I don't get jel.


As one very minor character in a blockbuster movie said 'I don't hate you because you're fat, you're fat because I hate you' (boy I bet she hates Lindsay Lohan for stealing the lime light.) And so Tavi Gevinson, I want to aplogise, I hate you because I'm a jealous girl not because you're an annoying spoilt brat who's blog isn't a patch on mine.

Guest post

Here is the link to my guest post that has been the cause to some of my late postings! Enjoy and see you Thursday!

http://www.chicandcheerful.net/2011/12/style-insider-bristols-best-boutiques.html

Help me I'm poor

So I reached an all time low this week, a low I had never reached before. I had no money not a penny. A particularly low point was when I had to spend my very last pound on, for want of a better word, feminine products, and having a budget of a pound it had to the basic range, not a comfortable experience.


To avoid getting scurvy from too much pesto pasta in the row, I had to either steal or sell. Seeing as my slight of hand wasn't brilliant, and what with my nails in a colourful state as I compete to have the most creative talons with my friends flat, I wouldn't be the most inconspicuous robber. So selling it was and ebay became my new best friend.

(mine was nowhere near as deluxe as this, the pasta to pesto ratio was shocking... I can't even look at it)

The problem with having no money is that you have a totally shite camera and no one wants to buy your junk if you cant even take a half decent photo. 


Oh what can a girl do, 17 days to go and I've got a grand total of one present for my mother and there's not looking like there's gonna be any more so the rest of the fam might have to share her very non universal present. I've got a good mind to march down to bunker and demand that they reimburse me any money they stole off me for jager bombs when I was unconsciously propped against the bar with a certain friend of mines (who's name begins with A and ends in Y) moves my limbs for me.

Whilst all this is going on everyone in my house and a lot of others around me stay out of the red and are quite happily skipping about in the green. How, how, how do they do this? I tried to think about the similarities that me and my poorest friend have and the similarities that my more affluent friends have. And then ping it hit me the way a penny hits the bottom of a piggy bank, we are single, they are not.


Now I'm not talking about every relationship here but I'm beginning to notice that boyfriends give their girlfriends 'pocket money.' Now they don't always call it pocket money, oh no they are sneakier than that. They'll just casually pay for drinks, or dinner, or petrol or a whole night out, or even a tesco shop! I would have given my right arm for a tesco shop! How is this fair? I'm just as nice as everyone else and I'm certainly much poorer so if they're gonna give their money away surely it should be to the needy and lonely and pathetic specimens like me?

(this isn't me)

It turns out being poorer than a church micey does have its perks. It encourages a much more creative side to your life. I've cooked up some pretty interesting things in the kitchen by desperately typing random ingredients into google and hoping to find some loony who has created a recipe from them before. They weren't always brilliant but they sure were creative!

(church mice, if you hadn't guessed, though I'm a single church mouse and probably not as well dressed)

With my l'argent petit (sounds more glamorous in french) I have began to appreciate the more modest things in life. The only thing I have the finances to do is take the bus (thanks to my hefty £300 yearly pass) so nowadays (or this week) I am quite content just going round and round on the bus. I also really look forward to and enjoy talking to my mother more than I ever have (I'm wondering if this is because so little happens in my week so that my day revolves around speaking to her, don't get me wrong mum, I love speaking to you just even more so in these challenging times.)


I have also been able to bring out the best in all of my friends as their generous sides peeked, one welsh companion of mine even offered to treat me to a curry.You  see I just want to make you better people really, so feel free to donate away!


So after that heart whelming and beautifully moral speech on how I could quite happily live a life along side the old Dalai Lama with not a penny in tow, demonstrating my appreciation for the things in life that are free, am I deserving enough of my bursary now?

Laundry day living

As promised on my new snazzy facebook page, I am late, later than I said. Those of you who don't know what I'm talking about are obviously being complete bitches and haven't liked my page, so please look to your right and click the 'like'. TA!


I was at home last weekend for my mother's bitterly disappointing birthday, George Michael got cancelled and then she's married to Al Binghams (yoga zone) biggest fan so she's not gonna get that good a reception from a man who's head's well and truly in the clouds.

(Al Bingham, he'd make a lovely...)

Anyway I made the big mistake of going home having done absolutely no laundry at all, so packed whatever was clean and scrambled very late for my train. Though it soon became evident that I had nowhere near enough underwear clean. As a last resort I squeezed into a pair of 'Happy Holidays' pants with a little reindeer with a rather festive bright red pom pom right on the old fou fou. They were also a little too tight resulting in 4 butt cheeks rather than the average human 2.


I may as well have got dressed in the dark because I had absolutely no choice on what to wear with my few clean clothes. Outfit= leather shorts circa summer 2011, a cashmere sweatshirt, woollen socks, tights, a balloon t shirt and a leather jacket. And to my amazement and surprise I looked better and much more edgy than I had done in a while.


And so this weeks blog is about not caring, and not in a telling off kind of way like when people say 'you don't care enough about us' or 'you don't care enough about your work.' What would happen if we lived like we do on laundry day. Would we reap the same benefits? I mean I don't drag my blog through finishing school it's rough and ready and fun and feisty and that turns out OK yeah? Probably better than it would if I actually planned what I was gonna write rather than harping on.


Early on this week I came to the realisation that this wasn't going to be a great week (I turned out to be very right what with deadlines and my Londonish friend coming to visit the one week I was unavailable. Also how many times did I say week in that last sentence? Week.) Walking up Park street as soaking as flannel a charity lady 'have you got a minuted' me. Turns out I did have a minute and she said something quite profound to me after realising I was about to slit my wrists with the edge of her clip board. 'Remember nothing matters. Nothing really matters.'

(True dat)

Was she right? If everything was going to turn out all right in the end why was I bothering? I put this into practise by neglecting any further essay thoughts and going out on the lash in the name of research, 2 days before my deadline. I wanted to see what could be gained from not caring.


Being drunk, it turns out brings out your very best of talents. Blind drunk in thekla recently I wrote down about 50 blog ideas, not that I could read them in the morning, but it sure made me feel clever. Watching drunken videos back in the morning also assures me that I could make myself quite a happy living being a comedienne or a presenter at the very least, watch out  Dermot O'Leary, could seriously give you a run for your money.

(look at all these sweatshirts that don't care- sorry mum)

My hangover even came in ridiculously handy, you see I become terribly philosophical when I'm hungover, lying in bed wondering why 'her' is used as a word because it's so masculine it's like heir, and googling consensual cannibalism. This came in very handy whilst writing my essay (being philosophical not googling cannibalism) because I was constantly questioning every single word of the English language I was writing building up a pretty stonking argument for my essay.




I guess there are many unlikely situations that can turn out really great like being on the piss you could meet great great friends, or have the confidence to finally say that thing you wanted to say to that person. Or if you got on the wrong train you might just end up in the funnest of places (I'm going to try and accidentally get on the euro star to disney land, its not like they can chuck you off at a random stop.) I guess I'm being quite philosophical when I realise that this is what people mean when they say be yourself. I sound like one of those people I really hate who says to you at the worst of times 'everything will turn out OK.'

(Listen to Bobby)

All in all I needed to use this blog slot to lecture myself  to stop worrying about being blown up at the Olympics. I have developed this ridiculous anxiety that this is what is going to happen. Might I add I'm not going to the Olympics. My point exactly.


Things can only get better.