Puzzles, Garlic Bread and Surprise Parties

Guess what guys?

I am now officially 22, which means my bones are clicking and my hair is turning grey.

Okay, so I’m lying about that, but I am struggling to get out of bed. Though truthfully, I think it’s due to the bitter winter mornings that have made a sudden appearance, but it could also be my age. Which is why I have a jar of Nutella on my bedside table, ready to fuel me through the day.

I went back up north for my Birthday, it was nice to see my family and we all went to the pub. But my presents were questionable. My sister gave me those puzzles where you have to rearrange letters to make words. She told me however many I got right would be the amount of Euro’s she gave me for Disneyland. They were impossible. I spent all day, literally ALL DAY doing them and still couldn’t figure them out.

Then, about an hour later my mum gave me my second present which was a puzzle and a word search. At this point my brain was frazzled and even Google couldn’t help me. Turns out the wordsearch had nothing to do with anything and she ‘just wanted to keep me busy.’ Because, you know, I hadn’t already been busy all day with puzzles a 13 year old made.

I think I’m just bitter that my 13 year old sister outsmarted me. To be fair though, that doesn’t take much.

I still don’t know what my brother got me. When I got back from the pub I was pretty drunk and then he decided to give me his present. I unwrapped it, it was garlic bread.

But here’s the thing, about 3 years ago my family went for a meal at Nando’s. Jak had garlic bread with his meal.

The meal was great, very tasty, 10/10. But Jak went to the toilet and had a little bit of garlic bread left on his plate. And I mean a tiny bit, it was kind of like a crust.

Everyone had finished and the waitress came whilst he was in the toilet and took the plates away. Jak returned, disapointment in his eyes.

‘Where’s my garlic bread?’ He asked. And that’s when Mum said it. The thing that has haunted me for years:

‘Lucie ate it.’

I was confused. Betrayed. Horrified. But he believed her over my sincere disbelief. Everyone joined in. Ruby, Harley, Ian. They all plotted against me, and Jak is the type to hold grudges.

His birthday card to Ian said: ‘It must be hard living with a garlic bread theif.’

I have a notebook in my shower, on which he wrote ‘I steal garlic bread.’

He brings it up every. Single. Time we’re together.

So it seemed perfectly believable that he got me garlic bread for my birthday. So I put it in the freezer and forgot about it.

Until it was time for me to leave the next day. We popped into my mums work to say our goodbyes, and she asked me if I had the garlic bread for lunch. When I said no, she asked whether I was taking it home. I said ‘No. Because I trust you not to eat it and there’s no room in our freezer.’ To which she almost screamed: ‘You put it in the freezer?!’ Before dashing onto the phone to Ruby, telling her to get it out the freezer.

I still don’t know what is in that box, all I know is that it isn’t garlic bread and it isn’t freezable. I feel like this whole thing could have been avoided if they’d just given me my present like normal people.

When I got back to Crewe, celebrations with Ian began. We got a train to Alderley Edge to go to The Alchemist because I love cocktails. But when we got there, we found it had shut down in June. Thank god we had a meal booked at The Botanist after, so we just had a few drinks at their bar instead.

I don’t know how they make their Crispy Onion Petals but they are the literally food sent from above. We had a bowl of them each and some sausages, that was just for starter. I have a feeling I eat far too much, life would be so much cheaper if I hated food.

My birthday was on Wednesday, and Natalie’s birthday was on Friday. (Remember Natalie? My friend that can’t say no?) So Sadia, (Nat’s girlfriend) planned a surprise party for her. I thought it was a pretty good idea until I got there and remembered that Nat doesn’t like surprises, or attention. But she seemed to enjoy herself after she got over the initial hatred.

Sadia went all out, and got us a joint birthday cake. I mean, Natalie doesn’t like cake but since it was also for me I thought it was lovely and I will eat so much of it that I’ll hate cake until Christmas. Which isn’t that far away but would still be an accomplishment.

When they lit the candles all the fire alarms went off, so people went from singing to screaming. Turns out drunk people and fire alarms do not mix. Me and Nat then held hands and cut the cake like we were married, but watching the footage back, it wasn’t that graceful. It was mostly us trying to figure out how two people can hold one knife.

Today I had a spring autumn clean and bought some fake plants from Aldi, which is why the photo at the top seems random. I have this thing were if I get really stressed, I will clean frantically.

Nothing can stop me doing it, Ian has tried many times. I think it’s just my way of having a mental breakdown.

The plants were a bonus because I don’t trust myself with real plants, and they’re perfect for the calming atmosphere of the bathroom. Or at least, that’s I told myself when I was convincing myself to buy them. I almost didn’t because I thought: ‘No Lucie. You don’t need them.’

But I’m glad I did in the end.

Cheesecake, Mcflurrys and Gimp Suits

Okay, well, this week I seem to have gone from doing nothing but working and watching an ungodly amount of Youtube, to actually doing things successful humans do.

I had my first week of lectures this week, which has both made me panic about the future, (Turns out it’s almost impossible to write professionally. Who’d have thought?) and jump with joy at how productive I’m being.

I also made a huge Beuno Cheesecake. Though I ended up throwing half away because I overestimated how much two people could eat in a week. I did the same thing with Cottage Pie.

My eyes are so much bigger than my belly, and because most of my friends are either vegetarians or intolerant to everything, I can’t even use it as an excuse to have a dinner party.

But I did manage to force Natalie to have some of the cheesecake, even though she doesn’t like chocolate that much. I have introduced Natalie before, haven’t I? I can’t remember.

It’s great because, like me, she has the inability to say no to things. So I knew if I asked her to come over after lecture, she wouldn’t put up much of a fight and I could stuff Cheesecake in her face without any complaints. As much as this makes me seem like a bad friend, I swear, I’d do the same for her if I had to.

Work has been work, nothing exciting. EXCEPT THE RETURN OF THE SMARTIES MCFLURRY. Honestly, one scoop of that delicious ice cream makes the sky crack open and angels descend.

And then the Nacho Cheese Wedges have returned, which causes earthquakes and opens up the gates of hell.

I’m not sure how it’s not false advertising. You think Nacho Cheese Wedges would be, well, nacho cheese on wedges. But no, it is in fact, cheese bites coated in wedges? I don’t understand.

Why not call them Nacho Cheese Bites? Stop trying to be extra and just name them what they are.

Whilst I’m having a bit of a rant, can we talk about American Horror Story? I’m a fan of the show, but what the hell happened? (Spoilers ahead.)

Okay, I was on board with the apocolypse theme. But from what I understand, this is the plot:

A nuclear bomb is about to hit America. A famous ‘influencer’ has paid to find safety in an underground bunker-type-thing. She’s a bit of a bitch and leaves her boyfriend to die and takes her Personal Assistant and Hairdresser with her instead. The hairdressers mum also goes along for the ride, because why not?

Also headed to the bunker is this teenage boy ans girl. Obviously set up to get together. Teenage boy is taken from his family because he and this girl have something in their DNA the government want to preserve.

Turns out the person in charge of the bunker is a bit sadistic and ends up having a man killed, and then fed to the other survivors including his boyfriend. She likes torturing the rich. Demon baby from the first season turns up, except he is now a fully grown demon man and gets to choose people to go the the ultimate safe place.

He? Or another demon? Gets in a gimp suit and has sex with the hairdresser. Turns out the hairdressers mum hates the fact he’s gay and loves leather and wants to sell him off to a dignified man. She catches him having sex with gimpy and reports it.

Oh, and sadistic lady hates it when people have sex. So him and the teenage boy and girl are in big trouble but demon man pardons the teenagers and makes the hairdresser stab his mum to death.

Sadistic ladies best friend is a robot based on demon man’s mum. (You what now?) The influencers Personal Assistant turns out to be a witch. (Again, what? The plot is getting fuzzy now.)

Remember the boyfriend that was left to die? Yeah, he’s alive. He survived the nuclear bomb with nothing but a deformity and a few cancers. He travelled all the way across America to stab the influencer in the face.

The demon man wants witchy woman dead. So he and the robot poison everyone with apples (how original) and the robot shoots sadistic lady.

So everybody is dead. Mr and Mrs important DNA are dead (What was the point in saving them from the wrath of sadistic lady? What about their DNA?) Hairdresser is dead. (What was the point in having a whole episode about him?)

But then some of the witches from Coven turn up and revive the influencer, her personal assistant and some woman who we haven’t seen much of, other than her being grateful to be alive.

I’m not sure what the theme is anymore. I’m not sure what the plot is anymore. I am purely watching it to try and get some answers, only to be left with more questions.

Or maybe it’s trying to symbolise the never ending questions of life? Or not? Who knows? Not me.

The Sweet Taste of… Bonfires?

Hello! It’s me again, which is no surprise considering this Blog is literally named after me, and all it’s content is about me. In real life I’m not this self-obsessed, I promise.

It’s been a busy week, between working and my friends arriving back from various parts of the country. University is weird when your accent adapts easily. One minute I’m talking in my usual posh accent (which is very misleading) and the next I’m using proper northern dialect. Have you ever heard a southerner say ‘Gaa’n?’ Turns out that’s for a reason. I sound like an idiot.

So, in a proper student fashion, we went out to the uni bar. I’m not a clubbing person, my body moves in strange directions when I’m drunk so I prefer sitting down and rambling.

The uni bar is good because you can dance, or you can drunkenly sit and drink more and more until you want McDonald’s. I like Observing as other female students ‘twerk’ in the direction of anyone that likes it. I thought the twerking phase of life was well and truly over, but apparently not. Do people actually find it attractive? Isn’t it a bit forward? I feel like arse moves should be saved for later on in the night, when you’re alone. Like the final part of a mating ritual rather than the first thing you do. Slut dropping is fun though, but only because it’s so dramatic that it’s more about confidence than sexual lore.

I got very drunk, but managed to not throw up, which is a big achievement for me. I think I’ll put the excessive drinking on hold until my birthday now, which is only like 2 weeks away, but still.

It has reached that time of year where the rain is pouring down relentlessly. And I love it. There’s that crisp taste in the air that’s refreshing, but not enough to freeze your teeth like it does in winter. I live for oversized jumpers and blankets and cups of tea with an occasional hot chocolate.

I’m also basic enough to love Pumpkin Spice Latte’s, or as Coasta’s have decided to call them: ‘Bonfire Latte’s.’ Like, what? When has anyone drank something and gone ‘Mmm, I can really taste the bonfire in that?’

Costa needs to up their game, first reducing the White Hot Chocolate to a tiny weeny cup obviously meant for hamsters, and now this. The only reason I keep forgiving them is because the one back home is inside Waterstones, and there’s something so cosy about a cafe surrounded by books.

I have just remembered the cup of tea I made, it has gone cold so I will bid you farewell as I go and make another one.

Devouring Eeyore

I’m writing this on the train up to Cumbria, because apparently being a writer means being flexible and writing anywhere you can, despite the fact that I seem to get inspiration locked in my bedroom in the dark at 2am.

This week I have done nothing except work, so this Blog is going to be short, but hey, something’s better than nothing, right? (The picture for this post is literally just a photo of stones I took in Eastbourne. I thought it looked pretty.)

Freshers starts again next week, and because my campus is shutting down, the line-up looks pretty shoddy. The great thing about that is that I won’t waste £700 on alcohol and club entry fees like I did last year.

Trying to be cool is not only tiring but extremely expensive, which is why I’ve given up this year. I’m happiest wrapped up with a takeaway and a glass of wine. (I hate wine, but it sounds better than ‘milky cocktail.’ Why are my taste buds still 4 years old?)

That makes me sound old and boring, but I am getting old. I’m turning 22 in a month, which means I have to act like a 30 year old. It won’t be long until people ask me when Ian’s going to propose, or when I’m going to have kids. *Shudders* In perspective, 22 isn’t that old. But it is the age that you’re supposed to have a career plan and future prospects, and I have neither.

Instead, I have a trip to Disneyland coming up and I could not be more hyped. I have my plans all sorted, and as soon as we get there I’ve booked a character dinner. My mum seems to think my enthusiasm is weird because of my age, but she’s just jealous because she won’t be eating meatballs with Eeyore. Wait, isn’t that a bit weird? Eating pig in front of a depressed donkey when one of his best friend’s is a pig?

Clearly, I haven’t thought this through.

Simon says: ‘You’ll never escape.’

Okay, first thing’s first:

Yes, I haven’t written anything in like two weeks.

Yes, I am ashamed.

And yes, it will happen again. I could make plenty of excuses as to why I Hobbit-holed myself (Well, I am never saying that again.) But the truth is that I’m lazy and up until now, I’ve done well to hide that fact.

But fear not, as I have returned with stories of dark rooms and floating chairs. That’s right folks, I got myself locked in another escape room. This seems to be becoming a problem, and I should probably seek help. I would say it’s because I love working as a team and bonding with people, but in reality I probably have some sadistic dark side that has become BFF’s with my competitive demon.

This time it was with a new company, Lucardo (The name kind of reminds me of that blue ninja – fox Pokemon.) and I had a fresh team: Ian, his brother Ali, and my sister, Ruby. To be honest, I had no faith in us. I thought we’d just end up bullying each-other and the guy would just let us out before anyone died.

Lucardo’s building is pretty scary. You have to press a button to get in, and once you step inside there is what looks like an abandoned reception desk. It looked like a huge corporate company (Wait, are they the same thing?) with white walls and the smell of an empty hospital. I guess you could say it looked apocalypse-y, and you had to climb up a lot of stairs until you found the massive Lucardo sign.

Inside ‘the waiting room’ was nicely decorated, but then black and red are my favourite colours so maybe I’m biased.

The staff were friendly, Luke was our own personal Oversee-er. He was very helpful and clear when giving us clues, though if anything I think maybe he was a little too helpful. Without him, we wouldn’t have escaped, as he gave a lot away, compared to other escape rooms where they would help us through riddles.

So thanks Luke, if not for you and health and safety laws, we would still be stuck in that room.

The room we did was called The Dream, though personally I think it should be called ‘Wasted’ or ‘God, I should not have smoked that.’

The story is basically that you’re dreaming you’ve won the lottery, but to actually win you have to wake up and escape your subconscious, or be trapped there forever. Sort of spooky, sort of random.

Our newfound buddy Luke blindfolded us before leading us into the room, and when we took them off I didn’t know what to look at first. The floating chairs, the sheep (Toys, not real. Though that would have been a twist), the bike wheel or the watering cans full of balls. It was insane.

A few of the decorations were just there to throw you off, which was different to the other escape rooms I’ve done. I also spent a good ten minutes playing Simon says before Luke told me that I was supposed to do that later. I’m glad he told me, because I would have been touching my toes and lifting my arms for the whole hour.

And my team worked surprisingly well. I stood around sounding stupid, Ali and Ian figured out the puzzles and Ruby put the codes into the lock. It was pretty smooth and we escaped with two minutes to spare.

I feel like the room was decorated amazingly, and it has a lot of potential. I think the two problems I had was that the website description didn’t really advertise it well enough, and the numbers don’t really work with the dream theme. Maybe it should be called The Lottery, because saying you’re getting ‘locked in the dream room’ doesn’t sound very PG.

Overall it was a fun experience, and definitely worth a try. I feel like Lucardo is much more suited to families than Breakout, and would be great for kids as well as adults.

We finished our day with a victory Nando’s, and I totally dragged Ruby along to see Hotel Transylvania 3. You can tell from this photo how much fun she had!

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FYI: Yes, I know Ali is prettier than me. Damn him.

Food glorious food

Okay so if the layout of this post is weird it’s because I’m attempting to be tech savvy. I’m writing this on my phone, and you’ll just have to make do while I figure this out.

Whilst staring at the ceiling trying to figure out something to write about, (This has become part of my blogging routine. It’s hard to write when all you do is work and sleep.) I went through lots of topics in my head that I know about, but couldn’t find anything to get my creative juices flowing. (Ew. Don’t worry, I will never use that phrase again.)

And since I don’t want to cause arguments or be political, expressing strong opinions on here is a no go.

But then it hit me. I do have an opinion on something that won’t hurt anybody’s feelings: Food is fricken awesome.

I don’t even know how people diet. Or how people are vegetarians, I mean I know why, and it’s an amazing cause. But it also takes some serious will power. I do not possess that kind of power. I will eat anything that finds it’s way onto a plate.

And then there’s people who ‘forget’ to eat. How?? It’s a human need, do you people forget to breathe too?

I just don’t get it. Ian can’t even get me out of bed unless he is well equipped with chocolate and coffee, and even then he struggles.

My love for food and my easily-influenced personality also mean I spend a lot of money on recipes I see on Facebook. Facebook is like ‘Here’s how to make lasagne but with garlic bread instead of pasta’ and 5 minutes later I’ll be in Aldi, striding down the aisles like I have money to waste, which I don’t.

Aldi is also troublesome. There’s a few aisles that change every few weeks. Most of it is random rubbish that I want but don’t need, and one of the aisles is full of exciting food. I think the last thing I bought was Caramel Popcorn Coffee. Sadly, it was disgusting. But the smell should be in a Yankee candle, and the little chocolate drops in it are cute.

There isn’t much more I can say about my love for food, and to be honest, I’m struggling this week so I think I’ll just keep this short and sweet.

Hopefully I’ll continue next week, but I’m going on a trip to Seaford (Which involves a 7 hour car journey with Ian’s dad. He pretends he’s recovered from the first time I met him and threw up in his car. But I notice him nervously glancing at me in the mirror every so often, not that I blame him. It was an awful first impression.)

My point is, I will write if I have time. If not, it’s going to be a horrifically long fortnight for you all.

A Typical Libra

Okay, so in my last post I talked about how I believe basically everything I’m told.

So it goes without saying, I’m one of those people who believes in Star signs. Every morning I wake up and check my horoscope on Snapchat before getting out of bed.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s a little too kooky or superstitious. I mean, if I had a nicer body and less of an appetite for pizza I would totally be a nudist. Alas, I will always be stumpy  and slightly chubby, and I doubt I will ever love colourful clothes, or flowers. So really, I’m quite far away from going full-on hippie.

It’s not like I believe in Horoscopes either, because apparently I will meet my soul mate every week, and have the opportunity for a promotion every other day. That’s a whole lot of men destined to be with me, and I’m 90% sure you can only be promoted three times at Maccies.

No, I believe in Star Signs. I am a Libra. At times, I think the high bloke who wrote the online zodiac descriptions knows me better than I do. I wish I knew his name, so I could send him an email with all my life problems, and he could give me some advice from beyond the stars.

A Libra’s strengths are:

‘Cooperative,diplomatic, gracious, fair-minded, social.’

Wow, we were doing so well up until the social bit. I think we’ll just ignore that, and focus purely on the fact that I annoy a lot of people by being diplomatic. If you come to me ranting about someone, prepare to also rant at me for trying to defend them.

A Libra’s weaknesses are:

‘Indecisive, avoids confrontations, will carry a grudge, self-pity.’

Once again, this is pretty close. I am far too lazy to carry a grudge though. It takes too much energy and most of the time I forget why I’m being grumpy with someone. To me, my worst trait is definitely being indecisive. There is too much food in the world for me to pick what we have for dinner.

A Libra’s likes are:

‘Harmony, gentleness, sharing with others, the outdoors.’

I never thought I was an outdoors person until I moved away from Cumbria, it only took a few days for me to miss the silence and fields and even the sheep. I also get very stress if there’s tension in the air, so I guess the harmony part is very true.

A Libra’s dislikes  are:

‘Violence, injustice, loudmouths, conformity.’

Out of all of the points, this is the one that is spot on. I don’t understand how people can even physically be violent. I hate Spiders, but I would never kill one, so it’s beyond me how anybody could punch another person. Also I’m not a vegetarian, so maybe this point makes me a bit of a hypocrite because animals die so I can eat? But I’m pretty sure a cow would eat me too if it got the chance, I can see it in their eyes.

Those are just a few of the points I wanted to share because I’m honestly addicted to the zodiac signs, but going through the whole thing would take all day and would also be very boring for you.

In fact, I believe in them so much, I even got a tattoo of my elemental symbol: air. I would have got the Libra sign, but let’s be real, nobody wants a tattoo of some shabby scales.