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?

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.

Being a slave to Youtube

Guess who’s only got one year left of university before they’re plunged into proper adulthood? (Me!)

And guess who’s university just emailed them, telling them to start a ‘career plan.’ (Me..)

Guess who has no idea what they want to do with their life despite being 21.  (Cries into a bucket of ice cream. Me.) 

All I want is a job that allows me to sleep in, stay at home and have fun. I’m slowly coming to the realisation that’s not how life works, and my way of coping is watching lots of Youtube. Which is fine. I’m not drinking or doing drugs, I am just splurged over the bed watching pointless rubbish.

Turns out, this is pretty bad for me. Not because it’s killing my brain cells and leaving me as a beached whale,. covered in the remains of biscuits and broken dreams.

My Mum likes to call me ‘easily influenced.’  I like to think I’m just adaptable.

Youtube and my personality do not mix well for a few reasons. The first is that I am rapidly losing money thanks to beauty videos.

If I look up hair tutorials, I will buy the product the person recommends no matter the price. Then, even if it doesn’t work, I recommend the product to other people. It was only the other day that I was telling my Mum she needed silk pillows made with 98% Egyptian silk, woven together by the finest Sphinx in Europe.

The same applies with make up, a 12 year old could tell me to spend £75 on a foundation that covers freckles and I would be ordering it within 8 seconds. (This is also a problem whenever I pop into Lush for one bath bomb. Thanks to the helpful staff I come out with 6 bombs, 3 face creams, 2 bars of soap and some sort of scrub that smells great but I have no idea when I’ll use it.)

The second reason Youtube is bad for me is that I also pick up other people’s traits. I have a friend back home who likes to slam his finger on the table whenever he’s making a point he’s passionate about. I do it too.

Despite living as far North as you can get for most of my life, I have picked up my Mum’s southern accent (which happens to be the bane of my existence.)

I have a Yorkshire friend so somehow ‘Reet’ and ‘Aye’ have become part of my vocabulary.

It’s a never ending list really. But now, I have started to pick up the traits of Youtubers. Why am I like this? I will use two examples from the most popular Youtubers I watch.

Zoella has a tendency of saying ‘I don’t know- I just…’ an awful lot. And now so do I.

Dan Howell seems to say ‘Yass’ and ‘Yeah boiii’ a lot. Personally I hate the fact I picked this up. Get a grip, Lucie.

In conclusion, I have decided that I am Youtube’s prime target audience. I am basically a slave to every Youtuber out there, and I am still no closer to picking a career.

So, if you’re reading this, please send help.