My relationship with Christmas

Oh, hello there, Mr Blog. (Yes, my blog is male, at least, it is in my head.)

I’m sorry for neglecting you recently, but the good news is I’m currently sat on the train home for christmas, which means no more assignments or work for a few weeks. Hallelujah!

Speaking of Christmas, I have never had such a love-hate relationship with anytging in my life, not even Marmite.

Of course, I love Christmas. I love that it brings everyone together, we can eat a feast and start drinking at 9am without being called an alcoholic.

I mean, let’s face it, that was the exact reason Bucks Fizz was created. It wasn’t for the taste. Us Brits just enjoy a bevvy as soon as we wake up. It’s culture.

What I don’t like about Christmas is the few weeks running up to it. Work goes mental, because for some reason Christmas also means maccies.

I seem to work more and have less money, because I’m a perfectionist when it comes to gifts and I will spend a small fortune making sure I get those presents right.

There’s also the social life, and I have recently discovered I drink too much. I am oopma-lumpa small, so it’s beyond me how I can manage a good 7 pints on a night out. And everytime the word ‘pint’ is mentioned, I’m like: ‘Fuck it, it’s christmas.’ This is bad for my bank, and probably my health.

Not really related, by knid of is, why do people sexualise Santa? He is literally a mythical fat man with a beard. There is nothing sexy about him. He brings gifts to children. So innocent, so pure. Yet, the amount of Santa lingerie is disturbing. Is there something I’m not getting?

And someone, please tell me, why everyone waits until the Saturday before Christmas to do their shopping? I went to the Trafford Centre the other day with Ian and his family, and we could barely even move, it was so packed.

The highlight of that day has to be the guy that works at Millies Cookies trying to show off. He was making me a Cookie Latte (Highly recommend. 10/10 sugar. 10/10 coffee.) and tried to flip the cream thing in the air, but it landed on the coffee and it spilt everywhere. And he just looked at it for a few minutes, not even blinking.

Maybe he was absorbing what had just happened. Maybe he was contemplating walking out and never coming back. Either way, I found it hilarious. Ian felt bad for him, but I couldn’t help but laugh, because that man was literally me.

I realised he probably thought I was laughing at him, so I pointed at the cup and said: ‘same.’ In some sort of attempt to make him feel better. I still don’t know what I meant by that.

I’ve also started taking a lot of pictures of baths, which is a weird hobby. (Baths full of water, with bubbles and candles. I don’t just take a picture of an empty bath. I’m not 100% crazy.)

So, the picture to go with this post is my ‘festive’ bath with my light up reindeer and christmas trees. I just thought I’d let you know what that’s about before I leave.

This may well be the last time I write before Christmas. So have a great holiday, get drunk and eat lots.

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?

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!