Sexy Plot Twists

Wow, how has it been over a week already? Time flies when you’re stressy and a little bit messy.

With 1 assignment down, I have 1 to go before Christmas, and even though I’m wearing wooly jumpers and forcing joyful music onto myself, I’m unmotivated and sleepy.

So, what did I do to cure this mood of mine? I procastinated of course!

So much so, that when a friend tagged me in an article about sex writing, I decided to have a go. Basically, I took a line from each story and wrote on from there.

Be warned, this is not for the faint hearted.

(Side note: I wanted to credit the article, the journalist and the original sex stories, but the link has broken and I can’t find it.)

So, without further ado,

1. “Empty my tanks,” she begged breathlessly, as once more she began drawing me deep inside her pleasure cave. I’d never met a mermaid before, so her statement surprised me. They were obviously a lot more forward than us mere humans. I slipped my fingers into her wet tank, the darkness of her cave swallowing us. I freed the fish from the tank inwhich she had trapped them, and watched them swim free. ‘Fuck’ she whimpered as I left. The evil bitch.

2. ‘Cum inside me.’
‘Cum inside me’
‘Cum inside me’
As much as I tried to ignore the haunted house and its incorrect grammar, I had to, indeed, come inside it.

3. He drops the bra to the floor.
‘You little shit.’ She says. ‘How many times must I remind you to put the washing away and not on the floor?’

4. There was nothing I could do to make it stop. If it continued, I worried, I would be completely emptied out.
Yuzu slept deeply through it all without making a sound, her breathing even. I wish she could stop this.
I scream and I pant as he devours me. My crumbs fall onto his beard. My dust covers his fingers and he licks them, one at a time, before moaning: ‘I love Wotsits.’

5. She shuffles her head closer to his cock. ‘Cockadoodle-fucking-do’ She whispers as she raises her cleaver and cuts of it’s head. ‘That’s for waking me up.’ She frowns and turns to Dave. ‘Keep your birds under control.’

6. I had imagined what they would feel like, read about them, seen them represented on toilet walls and magazines. I almost felt giddy as I lightly stroked the Devil’s horns. I asked permission before moving onto his tail. ‘I can’t beleieve you look just like your cartoon.’ I say. He shrugs his boney shoulders. ‘Still watching cartoons as an adult, Sandra? No wonder you’re in hell.’

7. He wanted to cry like a baby. He felt helpless, as though his body had come undone. So many men had experienced that same pain, the one that comes with being kicked in the balls.

So, there you have it. That’s how I avoided writing (by writing?)

I’m sorry I don’t have more to say this week, but I’m genuinely surprised I’m still alive.

Adios!

Life on The Nexplanon

Contraceptives are weird. There are penis sacks and vagina anchors, and pills that builds a wall around the entryway of the twinkle.
I thought I was well informed of the many different types of pill, but I have literally only just discovered there are three types of pill, one of which ‘thickens cervical mucus.’ Doesn’t that sound fun?

When did all of these methods appear? Now there is a ring you can stick up your lady bits and it stays there, chilling and killing sperm.
At school I was only shown the vagina anchor (IUD), the penis sheath (Condom) and the morning after pill.

All of which didn’t appeal to me. I’m far too forgetful for any sort of pill you have to take regularly, and I have a general rule that nothing should be shoved up your va-jay-jay. Especially anything that resembles a corkscrew.

So, I got the implant when I was 18. I still don’t 100% understand what it is that is inside me, but I have the image of one of those electronic air fresheners. But instead of spraying freshener, it sprays hormones in me every morning. Then the hormones float around my body until they find sperm to destroy.

The side effects haven’t been too bad, but they haven’t been non-existent. These are the few that I get:

• Irregular Periods – I did have these anyway, but it has made them worse. I often go without bleeding for a few months, and then spend a whole month on. This side effect is not for the weak.

• Weight gain – Or am I just fat and making excuses?

• Swelling when I’m ‘on.’ – This is a pain in the arse. My jeans go up 2 sizes, which means every month I end up crying because I’m fat.

• Mood Swings – I often get happy but snappy. My boyfriend just throws chocolate at me when I’m like this, so it’s all good.

After being on the implant (Nexplanon) for three years, I decided that I would get it replaced when it expired. But, to do so, I had to get an appointment.

I moved Doctors when I came to university. I used to live in a tiny village, the nearest Doctors was in a small town (population 4000) so getting an appointment was not difficult. The population of where I live now is 71, 722.

Getting a Doctor’s appointment was next to impossible, I rang them at 8am every day for a week before getting one in three weeks’ time.

I also had to go and pick up the implant myself. I told myself before collecting it I wouldn’t look at it. Alas, curiosity got the best of me and within 30 seconds I had opened it. Have you ever seen an implant gun? The needle is a thing of nightmares. I wish I had never looked. Curiosity brutally murdered the cat, and I made the same mistake.

The day came of the appointment (at 8am, the sadistic buggers.) I was still sleepy when I arrived, and I couldn’t even find the surgery room.

Eventually the Doctor came and found me, wandering around like a little lost puppy.
He described what he was going to do (basically cut a hole into my arm and pull the old one out before shooting the new one in.) I tried not to listen for the sake of my sanity.

I lay down on the chair-bed-thing and he dug in. I went in knowing I was going to write this article, and I was going to take pictures. But when it came to it, I couldn’t even look. I pretend to be braver than I am, that’s just a fact about me as a person.

He was trying to talk to me casually and he slit my arm open and stuck tweezers in me. I guess he was trying to distract me, but asking me ‘whether it’s going to snow Christmas day?’ doesn’t make me forget that you are literally inserting a machine into my arm. Nice try, Doc, but I know what you’re doing.

Overall, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I think the idea of getting it put in was a lot worse than the practice.

In conclusion, I wish I was gay.

Side note: Sorry to all those that follow The Jist. This will be my next article up, but with added content! (Basically I’ve done some doodles and diagrams, so that you can all see why I failed GCSE art.)

Christmas Ad awards and Sausage Massacres

It’s over.

The Veganism that almost destroyed me is over, I’m back to my meat devouring self and I have never been so relieved.

I actually have energy now. Well, as much energy as I had before the Vegan thing, which wasn’t much.

My first meal back was meant to be a feast. I bought everything on the McDonald’s menu, but felt sick after eating a single cheeseburger.

I am not usually a sharer of food, but I gave my friends the rest. Now I fear that they will want to share all my food, and I would like to take this moment to clarify:

It’s never going to happen.

Now that I’ve done that, I can move along and talk about what I’ve done this week…

Which is nothing interesting. Bloggers always seem to have money to go and do interesting things every week.

I wish I could go to Borneo and help Organgutans, or skydive in America. Alas, my budget only allowed me to get drunk one night and eat 3 cans of beans and sausage. (I think most people regret more than that when they get drunk, but it adds to how uninteresting I am.)

Aside from the sausage massacre, I’ve either been at work or in uni every day this week. I practically live at uni, in fact I have even started bringing a blanket. It helps me concentrate for some weird reason.

I am absolutely loving how festive everything is though, but like the rest of the nation, I am very disapointed in John Lewis’ Christmas Advert. I don’t care how much of a ‘treasure’ Elton John is, he is nothing compared to that animated bear and rabbit a few years ago.

So far, Aldi and Iceland are winning all the christmas awards from me. I mean, Iceland’s is so informative, well written and even cute.

And Aldi’s is about a carrot who stole the coca-cola truck and has a parsnip for a nemisis.

I feel like they’re opposite ends of the spectrum, but who doesn’t love a good carrot at Christmas?

Veganism turned me into a vampire

Have you ever had a bad idea?

Have your friends ever told you that your bad idea is, in fact, a good idea?

And have you proceeded to go ahead with the good-bad idea?

Then you know exactly how I feel this week.

Let me take you back two weeks. Me and Nat were sat in Wagamama’s, (The day of the cider incident,) and we were talking about the blog we’re working on for uni. (I will link it at the bottom. Self promotion ftw.)

I had no ideas apart from Disneyland reviews, and was facing a pretty bad writers block. Nat was saying that another member of our group wanted to do a Buzzfeed style article, like ‘I tried ….. for a week.’ She then suggested going raw vegan.

Now, even as stupid and stubborn as I am, I knew I could not go raw vegan. But, a few days later, I suggested veganism to the class.

Basically the response I got was: ‘Fuck no.’ from everyone except Nat, so on Tuesday we began our Vegan diets.

It was a huge mistake. I was excited and optimistic at first, but as soon as my body lost all the nutrients it had stored, I began to suffer. I am 4 days in and can see no hope or sign of happiness in this lifestyle.

Don’t get me wrong, I know I was an idiot for going straight from a meat-loving, coffee addicted devourer of cheese, to eating nothing but vegetables. But I’m an ‘all or nothing’ type of person, and I wouldn’t have stuck to it if I’d stopped eating one thing at a time.

The weird thing is, on my 4th day, the thought of beef makes me feel sick. I think I’ll have to wean myself back onto meat, which is a literal nightmare for me. Though for some strange reason, I do fancy venison. Maybe that’s because I want to get straight to blood? Has Veganisn turned me into a vampire? Who knows?

The other interesting thing is, when I’ve told people about this experiment, the meat eaters are the ones who have been most supportive.

Whether it’s because vegetarians think they could give dairy up easily, or that I’m dramatic because I eat meat, who knows?

I just think carnivors have more sympathy. They know how much they love meat (and, in this case, dairy) and they aknowledge that this shit it hard.

But, by far, the worst response I’ve had from this entire thing was by a vegan. Which baffles me.

One of my classmates, lets call him Doris, saw me with my packet of vegan cookies and Mylk. (God knows what was in that abomination. Anything that advertises itself as ‘grassy’ should not be eaten. By anyone or anything. Even a cow would hate it.)

Doris immediately assumed I was going to diss his lifestyle, which I wasn’t. Not until he said it, and my petty, nutrition deprived brain went: ‘Okay, I will.’

I started out this experiment to find out the impact on me and my health. I never started it because I knew I would hate it and could talk about it online. Even if that’s what I’ve ended up doing.

Anyway, Doris continued to say:

‘You can’t only eat vegan cookies and replacements for milk and call yourself a vegan. That’s not vegan.’

Normally, I’m not a confrontational type of person. I will just agree with people to keep the peace. But I was ready to sharpen my spear and go into full on war with Doris.

I replied with:

‘I’m not eating meat. I’m not eating dairy/eggs. I am, by defintion, a vegan.’

To which he shook his head at me, patronisingly.

Are vegans not allowed snacks?

I would understand if he was annoyed by the fact that I’m not doing it for animals, since he preaches his beleifs at everyone, despite never even visiting a farm.

But being annoyed because I was eating cookies??

I’m aware I sound bitchy right now, but this is the first time in adulthood that I’ve treated someone with respect and in return they knocked me down. And as a general human, that is not an okay thing to do.

Why can’t people just be nice to eachother, despite their beliefs?

I think my body has mostly suffered because I not only gave up meat and dairy, but also caffiene and sugar. I hate Coffee with soy/almond milk, and I was having 3+ cups a day before. I’m going through withdrawls of everything, so I recognise that I’m probably suffering more than an average vegan does.

You can read about what I’ve eaten, and how my body and brain has hated me for it, on my university blog: (The Jist.)

https://thejistmmu.wordpress.com/

The post won’t be up until I’ve finished the week (Tuesday) so you may want to give it a follow. Please. It would be nice.

The smashed wine of hope and dreams

Hey guys, I hope you’re all still feeling the spookiness of Halloween and your Christams fever hasn’t quite started yet.

Even though Aldi have released their Christmas advert and Costa’s and McDonald’s have their cute little cups in. Companies need to chill, it’s literally 4 days into November. We still have to celebrate Guy Fawkes failing to blow shit up and remember all the soldiers who died for us. THEN we can move onto Christmas.

So turns out I have developed a new habit of destroying alcohol. First it was the wee cider (which will make no sense if you haven’t read last weeks post.) And now I have smashed a full bottle of mulled wine in Morrsions.

It’s like a ghost is haunting me, but instead of scaring me, it just knocks things over to make it look like it was me. I am trapped in an eternity of smashed bottles and soaked jeans.

Aside from that, I went home for a few days because it was Jak’s birthday. He is now 17, and I have accepted my fate as an elder, I would get into knitting if I was trusted with the needles.

I asked Jak what he wanted to do, thinking he’d say the cinema, the trampoline park or even Laser Quest. But no, Jak wanted to go to The Range and buy a bin.

That’s right folks, for his 17th my brother bought a bin. I’m starting to think maybe all of mu family is just insane.

Alas, I had to return to the horrors of Crewe because I had to go and pitch ideas to professional writers. Whilst this was all-in-all and okay experience, I’m having a crisis about it all.

I have a problem with finishing stories. I just can’t do it. It’s always so unsatisfying, and I want to fill it with plot twists and brilliance. But, I did come up with a solution:

I would stick to short stories.

Short stories are easy to finish, I don’t know why. Saying that, I’ve only finished one. The agent I met reminded me that short stories are sold as collections, and I felt my stomach drop through the many floors of the overly posh university building. I already knew that, but it still somehow felt like a rejection.

The second agent was lovely. I pitched my script and she said to continue with it, but it’s going to need a big budget. That I didn’t mind so much because she didn’t shoot me down as much as agent 1.

Being a writer means I better get used to struggling getting places, but hopefully I’ll get there in the end.

I haven’t done much else this week, even though I’ve been up at 6 every day. So I’ll leave you on this note:

It’s only 7 weeks til Christmas!

Cider or Wee? You decide.

G’day maties,

I have risen from the ashes. And by ashes I mean bed, because that’s where I seem to spend the majority of my time.

I have been having serious holiday blues, spending every moment wishing I was back looking up at the pink castle with a cookie in each hand. (Yes, those cookies cost about €10 each, but it’s hard not to be carried away by the magic.

I could talk about Disneyland forever, and I will, because for one of my uni projects I am making a vlog. It will probably be recieved really badly, and I will make an idiot out of myself, but I know if I don’t do it for uni, I never will.

I’m also writing lots about Disney for the other Blog I’m part of. It’s actually got a lot of different content, from my strange shananigans to game reviews to Misgendering, it really is an odd ball of interesting articles. That’s mostly because it’s written by an odd ball of different people.

Check it out here:

https://thejistmmu.wordpress.com

So, apart from being sad that I’m not at Disney, I’ve been up to a few things.

Yesterday I went with Natalie to see Neil Hilborn (with special guests Rudy Fransisco and Sabrina Benaim.)

Who are they? You ask. Well, they are very famous poets who have come to the UK from the US and Canada. They came all the way to Manchester (why Manchester?) to perform their poems about depression, love and… Greggs.

They were amazing, which is no surprise. What was less amazing was that I spent 4.90 on a cider, and the plastic cup had a hole in it.

I had no idea at first, and as I was drinking I was just like: ‘Well, this is embarrassing. I’m missing my mouth more than usual.’

But then it got to half way through Sabrina’s perormance and I picked the cup up again. It had got worse. It was leaking out like a waterfall, to try and stop it I tried to press it against my leg. But instead of solving the problem, it made it worse. It soaked through my edgy ripped jeans and then they started to leak too. So in essence,

It looked, and sounded like I was wetting myself.

The cup was about half empty (or half full?) when I noticed a used, empty cup on the chair next to Natalie. I asked her to grab it, and after getting a strange look from the woman who had used it, she gave it to me and I placed it under the cup. That was the first problem solved.

The other problem was that I was now wet and sticky. During the interval I went to the toilets and was trying to dry my legs with the hand dryer, which raised other dirty looks.

Not only was I the girl who ‘pissed’ herself, but I was also the one that did strange yoga underneath a hand dryer, trying to dry my pants. It worked to an extent, but it didn’t get rid of the smell.

I decided to sit as still as possible, so that no more disasters would occur. Luck was on my side for once, and there were no more Lucie incidents, lucky for Nat.

I don’t want to bore you, so I’ll leave that there. The image of me sat in darkness, the sound of streaming liquid breifly interrupted by my swearing.

Have a good night!

(Just a note: I didn’t take any photo’s yesterday but the picture is the last photo me and Nat had together. It’s bad quality, but then again, so are we.)

I’m going to Disneyland as an adult and let me tell you, I will not ‘Let it Go.’

Before I start, I’d like to do a promo for the other blog I’m writing for, it’s a group project that I’m really excited about! Though this peice will be there, I promise there will be extra content that I won’t be put on here!

Give it a follow at:

https://thejistmmu.wordpress.com

Now, I have very exciting news…

The wise Peter Pan once said: ‘Keep adventuring and stay not a grown up’ and I honestly could not relate to anything more. Because, let’s face it, being an adult sucks.
Yes, I am legally old enough to drive. But do I? No, because I can’t afford to sell my soul away for the insurance.
Sure, I drink alcohol and do cool (sometimes sexy) adult stuff, but do I always regret it the morning after? Yes, yes I do.

As a semi-functioning human who tries her best, Disney has found a hole in my heart and filled it with something day-to-day life seriously lacks: magic.

I wasn’t enthusiastic about Disney as a kid, and when it got to the corny part of the movies where they’re all singing and dancing and I would cringe. Why are they singing? Make them stop. Why does that rat talk?

But now I know. Why shouldn’t the rat talk? And why can’t we all live happily-ever-after singing songs out the blue?

So my Mum bought a getaway to Disneyland for my 22nd birthday. That’s right folks, I’m going to where the literal magic happens and dragging my 13 year old sister with me. Nothing can stop the hype.

The thing I’ve found about planning the trip, is that there’s a lot of it for somewhere that’s meant to be fun. You need to know where you want to eat and what time you want to eat three months in advance.

To be honest, I eat when I want to eat, (which is probably far too much to be healthy.) I can’t even tell you what time my dinner is tonight. Or what time I’ll have lunch tomorrow.

I feel like a panda, sleeping my way through life and occasionally waking up to eat and, once in a blue moon, have sexy time.
Disneyland is trying to tame the wild panda in me, and so far, it’s bit of a rocky start. God knows how parents plan that far in advance, but I salute you.

I did book Inventions though, where you eat with, and meet up to 8 characters. Mickey is almost always there, since he is the most iconic mouse on the planet. I have such high hopes for meeting him, I tend to forget it’s a guy in a suit that was too short to get cast as a Prince.

When Mum first told me about the trip, I was excited. But then I realised the timing ties in with the Halloween festival, which means all the baddies are going to be out and about. Fuck Aurora, I’m meeting Maleficent and channelling my inner witch.

I have organised costumes, which is hard because you’re not allowed to dress as Disney characters, but you are allowed to dress like them (AKA: ’Disneybounding.’) So, I’ve bought Stitch and Angel onesies and I’m Disneybounding as Gaston, and Ruby is going as Jack the Skelington King.

Another thing I didn’t expect was the number of apps I’d have to download. The official Disneyland app, which tells me queue times and has a map of the park. The Photopass app, for all of the photo’s the professionals take. And then there’s Revolut, for emergency money in case I run out of cash. I feel like I’m definitely going to need a portable charger, or my phone is going to melt into my hands within an hour.

We are travelling by coach from Cumbria to Paris, overall it’s a gruelling 16 hour journey. At least there are plenty of alcoholic drinks being on board, it’ll be a miracle if I make it to Disneyland to be honest. We’re taking a blanket, snacks, books and the tablet so we won’t be bored or uncomfortable. I also have a onesie that my mum made for me, because she is a literal saint.

Of course, nothing is going to go to plan but I will update you all with everything I can next week.

Also, here’s a lovely quote to think about in the mean time:

‘I only hope that we never lose sight of one thing — that it was all started by a mouse.’ -Walt Disney