Because Wading Through Mess Isn't Cool

I went to bed last night with the motivaton to tidy my room, so I made a mental note to spend today doing a major blitz of everything that wasn't in it's correct place.
However, when I woke up this morning, my mindset was quite different so it took me a good few hours of procrastination to actually get going. I half-heartedly began sorting, piling, tidying, and organising until I found something I'd completely forgotten about-

My tiara.

First worn at a Midsumer Night's Dream party at least 2 years ago, this beauty had been forgotten about under my bed straight after.
I then decided to make tidying immensely more enjoyable by wearing the tiara the whole time. I was like Cinderella! A princess at heart, but just had a few chores to do to reach the ultimate happy ending.
It wasn't long before the tidying was all done, but I had possibly forgotten that I was still wearing the tiara by the end of it...
The rest of the day resembled a crazy person's day out.


I enjoyed my accidental Princess day.

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID

When this "joke" first originated in my friendship group, I thought it was the most ridiculously irritating catchphrase I'd ever encountered, made even worse by the few individuals who use it for things that it doesn't even remotely apply to.

You WANKERS.

But obviously, as I'm a complete hypocrite, I find myself doing it on a regular basis, and even worse, I find myself enjoying the childish fun.
My all time favourite was "have you not got it in yet?". (super win.)
It's nearly as bad as "your face" which I also am ashamed to admit I take part in. It's like a cult! You don't necessarily want to join, but if you do join you get the support of 20 million others who are just like you:D
Crazy times.

Anyway, back to the point at hand.
Today was the morning after the night before - not so much for myself and my comrade Amy as we'd drunk a sensibly tiny amount, but for my other housemates, it was hell on a stick.
And they were desperately looking for a hangover cure, but as we seemed to be lacking in food and/or medical drugs, we logically decided to go out for breakfast at about 1pm.

Amy drove wildly around York, following amazingly terribly directions from myself and the drunken troops in the back of the car, but we eventually found the pub we wanted. We then were required to take out a mortgage to pay the small fortune required to park in town, before being allowed to abandon it in a car park and venture off to feed our rumbly tummys.

We went in, sat down, took ages deliberating over what we'd order, then decided we'd get what we always get. I kindly offered to go to the bar to pay so that I could embarrass myself by having my card be rejected a fair few times before getting anywhere with it... (it's the thought that counts). Anyway, due to this card-related failure, I'd managed to order mine and Amy's food before Jen and Hannah could, so naturally, ours arrived much quicker.

This is how the chaos ensued.

Amy doesn't like mushrooms, so she gave hers to me. Jen asked for one of them to keep her satisfied till her food arrived, so I courteously offered Hannah the other one.
(This whole story is Hannah's fault btw.)
Then Hannah replied with-

"No thanks, I'm getting a much bigger one in a minute"

Now, can you see why I HAD to retort?! It goes without saying that that is an innuendo if I ever heard one, but in my desperation to demonstrate my incredible wit, I'd forgotten the huge mushroom I had in my mouth at the time.... Dribbly mess.


Basically, I'm a child and I will definitely embarrass you in public.

A Short Story; The Life Of A Bubble

Weeee! Up, down, uppp, floating, up, down a bit more, higher, round, ooh, a breeze.
ARGH, NO! A CHILD'S FINGER IS HEADING MY WAY!
HELP ME!
HELP!
YOU THERE, CONTROL YOUR CHILD!
No, wait... WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING THIS?!
YOU'RE A TERRIBLE MOTHER, ARRRGGG-
Pop.

The end.



Yeah, that'll make you think twice before popping bubbles.

I Like To Think I'm Funny

I worked my first day-shift today at the bar that I work at, and there are lots of incredibly fun jobs to do that aren't possible to do at nighttime, like;
cleaning all the shelves,


learning how to make coffee with the biggest coffee machine in the world, and writing on the chalkboard. The latter of which is something that is very time consuming and difficult. It has to be straight, legible, of reasonable size, consistently written, blahblahblahhhhblahblahblah. I knew that if I was given it as a job then I'd be doing it for absolutely ages, 'cause I'd have to re-do it over and over and over, so I asked if my colleague could do it instead and he refused. Point blank.
"I can't write straight, Sam".
But how did he know I could? I'd never done it before, so his excuse was proper rubbish, but it did need doing, and it distracted me from my other... fun ... jobs... so I hypothesised many variations of how I should re-write the board....


Ahahahaaaaaa, I'm so witty. Seriously, I'm underappreciated.

BLOGGER, STOP IT.

"Error 503"

"Service unavailable"

DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE PMSING, LET ME UPLOAD PHOTOS.

Do you see what you cause, BLOGGER?
You cause angry metaphorical bursts of hot lava and ash to EXPULSE from my being.
You have therefore destroyed the tiny conceptual village of tranquility just to the right of the angry volcano, and you shall therefore feel my tiny wrath.



Seriously though, fix your website.

A Week Of Sam's Life

Right, stop pretending you think my blog is full of useless, arbitrary rambles, and instead focus on how awesome it is and just shuuu'p and listen.

I've had a pretty chilled week... If you ignore the night I got a little bit tipsy and many crazy things happened... (the less detail, the better there, I think)... And I've had a lot of spare time to become incredibly bored.

Television is fine, but I looked in the mirror on Wednesday and realised that I was becoming a terrible cliché.


(See what I did there!)

So I decided to start find other ways to pass the time, starting with some exotic baking, but baking takes time and effort, and more importantly, makes me put on about 2 stone because I have to eat EVERYTHING.


(Pronounced sc-ons, not sc-ohns)

THEN, I experimented with a tiny dashing of pure party fun, fuelled by a few too many cocktails and some rather disgusting out-of-date budweiser (though it was only 70p). But the outcome of this was even worse...


(I wish that was a drawing.)

I also tried going to Ikea.... Though that was a slight waste of time, as the only useful things I bought were a lamp and some sharp knives.


(And of course, I borrowed a pencil or two..)

But in all seriousness, I have led a very, very boring life this week. This blog post is actually a secret plea for help.
Please.
Someone.
INVITE ME TO DO SOMETHING.
Thanks mugaluffins <3

GIANT ENVELOPES

The title of this post is very self-explanatory.

I woke up this morning with a brilliant (if I do say so myself) idea brewing in my noggin. This idea was so great that it basically saw me out of bed before the day developed into afternoon-ton, which is really quite spectacular.

The idea was that I would create a gift for my lovely man-muffin, that I could then post to him at University, and he'd get it and be surprised and amazed and hopefully amused. (Though I shan't go into great amounts of detail in case he stumbles across this before it arrives...) I slaved away for at LEAST half an hour in order to create my masterpiece, and then realised the one fatal flaw.
If I planned to post it to him, how on earth was I going to go about doing that? It's flat, but can't be bent, so an average envelope is out of the question, and I've had strict instructions that parcels are a pain in the arse so to avoid sending them at all costs... This stupid flaw in my method made my excitement deflate a little, but I managed to come up with a reasonably sensible solution. I put it between two sheets of card and then used one of those bubble-wrap envelopes and simply wrote "do not bend" on it.
I know, I'm a genius.

After all this, the plan was back in motion and I went to go post it.

(Ignore that the post box looks like a penguin in disguise.)
So with a SECOND flaw in my plan, I had to resort to the unthinkable.
I went inside the post office.
*dun dun dunnnn* #dramatic music


I am currently in the process of writing a letter to the council suggesting that they make GIANT post boxes so that I am never inconvenienced again.

GREEN LANTERN

Right, I'd like to ask you to imagine a scenario.

It's late at night.
You're not actually tired because you didn't get out of bed 'till about half past 3, so you're browsing the internet looking for something to occupy your time.
Now, don't get the wrong idea here. You're not a pervert or a male, so you're not looking for porn. You're simply clicking arbitrary links, and thus learning random facts about whales that no one should ever know, and finding bargains on ebay that you don't need, when SUDDENLY...
You find something that makes you giggle like a little kid anticipating the ice cream man in his glorious ice cream van.
You have discovered a film that you. must. see.


Tadaaa! The Green Lantern.
The one superhero film you've always said they should make as you bitterly sat through 3 Spiderman films that gradually decreased in entertainment value and general levels of good-ness.
Not only is it featuring the greatest flippin' hero ever. It's got Ryan Reynolds cast as Hal Jordan, and Sinestro is played by Mark Strong, who was BRILLIANT in Sherlock Holmes and has the best last name in the world.
Need I say more? The answer to that clearly rhetorical question is no. No, I need not say anymore.
The ONLY bad thing about this whole thing is that there's still a year to wait.
SOMEONE INVENT A TIME MACHINE FOR GOD'S SAKE.

As a protest to the long wait, I'll wear a costume (similar to the one above) all day, everyday till the release date. Fathers for Justice, eat your heart out.

P.s. if you take me to see this film, I will love you unconditionally... for at least a day or something.

Moving Back To University

Honestly, I don't think there is anything in the world that provides more of a challenge to someone who's method of organising their belongings is simply to remember where they put it in amongst the mess. My Aunt once referred to this systematic method as "organised chaos". Moving back to University is in fact such a challenge to people abusing this method simply because it involves packing. Packing everything you culd ever possibly hope to want in one house, but into small enough containers that it'll all fit into one car.

This would be difficult enough by itself, but then presented with the task of first sorting out all the items that you want to pack by finding them in your house and then organising them into appropriate boxes/suitcases/handbags/mountains of things, it becomes the hardest chore of your life.

I approached this task sensibly by making a list of things I want to take with me.
But of course, I forgot half of it.

So then I tried packing anything and everything.
But there was no logic to the system and I immediately forgot what I had or hadn't packed and got myself very confused.

Ultimately, there is no good way of going about it without spending 12 days preparing your belongings, so in the end I opted the "screw it." kind of attitude and just piled up everything I wanted to take with me.

I'll make it fit in the suitcase if I die trying.

Make-Up is Magical.

I used to hold the belief that make-up was a superficial product that made no logical sense whatsoever, because you can't sleep in it, so if you're hoping to hide your own hideous face in order to attract a male, as soon as you sleep together the facade'll be ruined and this man of yours will see your true colours. This, in my mind, dubbed wearing make-up a pointless effort for people who had no self-confidence.
HOWEVER, that was before my face became hideous itself.
When you wake up one morning to discover that you're an ugly mothertrucker, you do have to go against some of your pre-established morals in order to avoid being shunned by society for looking like a monster from the deep.This led to a very reasonable raiding of my sisters massive make-up collection to find something that didn't look like an alien probe, and that also might somehow fix my face.
I grabbed anything that looked recognisable and sploshed it on my face.
I did originally look a little bit like a clown having a bad hair day... But I practised and now I like to believe I have mastered the art of pretending I'm attractive.

Just don't tell my boyfriend.

"Sam, call an ambulance!"

This is the exact sentence that was shouted at me last night at my place of work.
Basically it's a very boring story about a huge fight breaking out because a man tried to piss on a woman's leg and another guy didn't like him anyway and thought he'd hit him in the face or something.
It was all sorted out very professionally with one guy on the floor unconscious and another guy gushing blood from his face. Also, to add insult to injury, the bloody guy was wearing a white shirt.
(Mistake).
Anyway, I run in to grab my phone, dial 999 and expect y'know, a 5 second conversation "Ambulance to the Ferrands Arms in Bingley, please!"
No.
That's not how it went down at all.
In actual fact, I think the woman on the other end of the phone was either a sadist who enjoyed other people's suffering, or she was simply playing the "question game".

"What's the nature of your emergency?"
Just told you I need an ambulance.
"Where's it for?"
Just told you.
"I need the street name"
It's just off main street opposite market square in Bingley.
"Street name or I can't do anything."
(so now I have to go back inside the bar to ask someone where we are)
Right. Queens Street.
"What's actually happened?"
(I explain the story)
"So how many casualties are there?"
One and he's bleeding from his head.
"Can you please tell me where the patient is injured?"
Seriously? I've just told you.
"I need you to clarify where the patient is injured."
His head.
"Right... Are you with him now?"
No, I'm on the phone to you where it's quiet, the bouncers are looking after him.
"Well, you need to be with him or I can't help you."
I can't feasibly get near him, I just need an ambulance.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but I need your co-operation."
GRAGAGAGAAGAARARARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

I asked someone else to finish the call.
I assume they managed it because an ambulance eventually did arrive.

Stupid woman.