I Need You!

Well butter me up and call me a biscuit, it’s been a whole freaking year since I started old bloggy here.

Seeing as I’ve been providing you all with such hilarious and thought provoking content once a week(ish) for a full 12 months, I wanted to know – Is there anything you’d like to ask me?

So the comment section on this post (and all other posts) is anonymous. You don’t have to be a member of WordPress to comment, so please feel free to ask whatever your heart desires.  If you don’t mind letting me know your name, you can also get in touch via various social media platforms (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter).

This could be a complete flop and/or total nightmare, but I mean it when I say; Ask me anything.  Dirty, clean, embarrassing, controversial, political, ethical, stupid, intellectual… Other various adjectives – I will answer them.

Next week’s blog is up to you.

Why I Don’t Exercise.

Reasons I don’t/can’t/won’t exercise:

• I am lazy as fuck.  There are brief moments in my life where I get all Shia LeBeouf (“JUST DO IT UGHHH”) but mostly, I would really just not “do it” at all.  The more I tell myself to get outside and do something, the less I want to.

• Exercise is hard.  I’ve been to the gym a fair amount of times.  Mostly I just go on the bike or the treadmill, because I know how to work those.  Once, however, my friend dragged me to a Spin class.  It was literally the worst 40 minutes of my life.  If you’ve never been to a Spin class the premise is this – There’s an instructor at the top of the room who has wayyyy too much endorphins floating around their body.  They are pumped.  Veins are popping out everywhere.  He/she is cycling their stationary bike at an inhumane rate, instructing you at the same time.  How are they even breathing, nevermind talking?  After 20 minutes I was busted.  I mean, I couldn’t stand up to do the hilly parts.  Everything in my body was screaming “Jesus Christ Molly, just stop” but I didn’t want to lose face in front of everyone else in the class.  So I endured this torture for another 20 minutes.  I wobbled off the bike pretending to laugh like it was all great fun, but I was seriously struggling to put one foot in front of the other.  Everything hurt.  My lungs, my legs, my face and what was particularly excruciating was my vagina because the seat was made of fucking knives.

• I hate sweating.  I’m not a germ freak and I have good personal hygiene (when I have to leave the house) but I just really hate the feeling of having sticky underarms, underboobs, ass crack and feet.  I put on anti-perspirant deodorant twice a week because I don’t often sweat, but when I forget to use it and I get too hot – It’s monsoon season in pit land.

• I think I look stupid.  There is not one person on this earth who doesn’t care about how they look.  I try to tell myself this every hour of every day, but STILL I can’t step away from the fact that when I run, I look like Phoebe from friends. This has been confirmed when, after getting caught in a rain shower and having to run to the car, Fiancé said; “You run like Phoebe.”

• Gyms are scary. There’s just too many options.  Too many settings.  A lot of people who frequent gyms have said “Just ask for help!  Everyone is really friendly.”  Well I’m sorry, I don’t want to disturb that man staring at himself lifting weights in the mirror and I don’t like talking to strangers.

• It’s fucking expensive.  I know I don’t need all the fancy Nike equipment like clothes and shoes, but I have 100% been sucked into the commercialisation of fitness.  I want the best shoes, the coolest leggings, the most comfortable bra.  It doesn’t matter if I look like old mashed potato when I wear it.  I want it.  Similarly, I would LOVE to hire a personal trainer but I cannot afford to pay someone to cause me physical pain when that money could be spent on groceries and beer.

Having said this.  Exercise does make you feel amazing afterwards and is really good for you.  All it takes is some structure and routine next thing I know I’ll be Tyson.  Someone help me remember this when I’m lying in bed with nothing to do and decide to watch another episode of Masterchef.

 

 

Things That Need to Leave.

Avocados need to leave.  Stop being pretentious, creamy, disgusting mush.  You’re not a substitute for butter, you’re not good with eggs, you feel weird in my mouth, you’re only ever over or under ripe, and you have to go.

Zoos need to leave.  Ever went to a zoo as an adult and felt happy?  Maybe it’s because I’ve been researching veganism (and they’re all pretty mental), but lately, I can’t ever imagine why I ever enjoyed a zoo.  If people think animals don’t have emotions, go to a zoo.  These are creatures in environments that they were never supposed to be in.  And for those who say – ‘They don’t know any better’ – Maybe they don’t, but why does that matter? Zoos need to leave.

Ghosts need to leave.  They need to leave reality.  Ghosts don’t exist.  They exist in movies, but in real life, ghosts are born from over active imaginations and tricks of the eye.  A ghost is not going to visit me and tell me I’m wrong about this.  Buildings are not haunted, the dead don’t leave their spirit behind, a Physic can’t tell your future and angels aren’t watching you.

Donald Trump needs to leave.  That blonde-haired, racist, homophobic, chauvinistic, idiotic, money grabbing, small minded pig of a man not only needs to leave, he needs to get the fuck out.  I’m not interested in his politics or policies, or his self-absorbed idea to “make America great again”, he is a backwards thinking piece of shit that needs to pack up his things and leave.

Money needs to leave.  Money is like the person who comes into your house and doesn’t take off their coat or sit down because they don’t wanna stay too long.  I’ve had enough of it.  I either have loads of it for a second, or none of it for a year, and either way I’m not happy.  The past year I have spent struggling to make it to the end of the month, constantly having to borrow off my fiancé (hehehe that’s the first time I’ve referred to him as fiancé) or my parents, and it makes me feel really scummy.  Yes, I could be better at spending but I really love make-up, drinking and food. Money needs to come in and sit down and leave when I tell  it to.

Decisions need to leave.  I am officially the worst person ever at making a decision.  How am I going to go about planning a wedding?  I’m so afraid of offending someone or someone disagreeing with me, that I’d rather just not try at all.  The one decision I’ve made about the wedding so far?  I’m definitely marrying Gareth.  And there will be no avocados served, no animals exploited, no ghosts, no Donald Trump and no money spent.

 

Just kidding, there is going to be so much money spent.

 

 

Friends Required: Apply Within

 

I have always been terrible at making friends.  When I first started school, I hated the other children so much that I insisted I stayed with Mrs Fegan, the cleaner.  She tactically convinced me into painting something one day, and when I turned my back she had sneaked away to get on with her duties.  I cried for the rest of the day.  I was shit at being a child.

Remember the Wendy house in the corner of the classroom that every school had?  I was extremely intimidated by other girls and the friendships they had so easily formed, so I didn’t step foot in the Wendy house till my Mum was late one day and all the other pupils had left.  My brother Harry played with me while my Mum and Mrs O’Connor talked. He stole a plastic onion and we laughed all the way home.

I did have friends eventually, but not until I was around 10.  These are happy memories, but I distinctly remember spending all or most of my time trying to impress them.  I was (and admittedly still am) extremely needy and over-protective, so if someone even indicated they were trying to steal my best friend, they were going down.  I’m not proud to say I was a bit of a bully in my final year of primary school.

The tables really turned in secondary school.  I learned the hard way that being a teenage girl is just the worst.  I had formed group of new ‘best friends’ who dumped me out of the blue one day because they just didn’t want me around anymore. Poof.  I was sitting there one day, offering up my gummy strawberries, and the next thing I know I’m at the back of the classroom alone and crying again.  It didn’t end there though, because they insisted on harassing me on MSN messenger and via text.  One girl in particular was relentless.  I’m not going to name names but lets’ call her Cunty McCunterson.  If anyone treated my sisters the way that she treated me, there is no doubt I would have the police involved. Can you tell I’m still bitter?  Yeah, I’m still bitter.

Fast forward a few years, to when I really was happy.  Truly happy.  I had friends that I loved and I thought I was set for life.  I still had issues with trust, but I finally felt like I could be myself. They meant more to me than my family.  In the end, I relied on them so much I took advantage of them and eventually they left me too. I blamed them for abandoning me, telling myself that if they had of loved me, they would have stayed.  I realise now that they actually gave me loads of chances to be a better friend, and I fucked each one up entirely.  I was never a bad person, I just made some really bad choices.

I told myself for a long time that I was better off alone.  I shut off from everyone and was drifting through life with the mantra that I didn’t care about anyone, and I eventually stopped caring about myself too.  Some people scraped the surface and made me feel like my old self (shout out to my sister, KD, KOH and JC) but in the end I knew I would let them down too.  So I shut them out as well.

*Cue violins* When I met Gareth, a part of me changed.  I wanted to do things differently. So I did. From the very beginning he meant something more to me, so I told him everything; what I had done and who I had let down, why I hated myself as a person and why I felt everyone hated me.  I told him I wanted to change and he believed me. For the first time in a long time he reminded me what it was like not to be so alone.

Being a newly reformed 24 year old is not ideal for making friends.  It’s not like school where you’re socially forced to talk to people.  The thought of voluntarily entering a communal situation like a yoga class or asking someone out on a girl-date is more horrifying than that first day of Primary School.  Truth is, I have no idea how to make friends any more. I wish it was as easy as messaging someone and saying “Hey you seem cool, wanna hang out?” But I’m nervous around girls.  I laugh at my own jokes and create awkward silences. I pretend to be cool and pretty when really; I haven’t showered in a week.  I run away from conversation but get jealous if you have other friends.  

 

The changes I’ve been trying to make this year have influenced this blog.  I need positive people around me.  Everyone is worthy of friends, and I need to stop being so scared of having them.

How to Win at Scrabble.

This is kind of a step away from my most recent posts.  It’s not actually a tutorial on how to win at Scrabble (sorry), however, it is something that is of great interest to me. Put simply; words.  Words that you didn’t know existed.

I’ve always loved reading.  One thing that I was always good at.  I remember the smug pride when I moved onto Key Stage 5 books in primary school (shout out to Biff, Chip, Floppy, Kipper, Wilf, Wilma, Mum and Dad).  My Mum has always read, and my Dad has always encouraged it, so I grew up with Rohal Dhal, Dick King Smith, R.L Stein, C.S Lewis, Tolkin, Peter V Brett, Patrick Rothfuss and my absolute hero JK Rowling.

Despite in the past having read up to 6 or 7 books per annum, within the last few years my reading pattern has dwindled.  This is partly down to not having too much on my mind and/or lack of concentration.  Mostly I blame technology *shakes fist*.  Sometimes I could spend an hour on Pinterest or YouTube rather than reading, but once I start a book, I’m always reminded how (for me) it is the ultimate escape.

Reading is the only time I’ll ever look up the meaning of a word.  If I see something in a book that I don’t know the definition of, I’ll look it up.  I really enjoy the feeling of knowing stuff, so in this blog, I’ve found some cool words that you might like to whip out in conversation in order to confuse everyone around you.

Philtrum – This is the little groove below your nose and above your upper lip.  How to use in conversation; “I stroke my philtrum when I’m thinking.”

Ferrule – The metal part on the bottom of a pencil. How to use; “My flipping ferrule flew off my pencil”

Mondegreen – A misheard lyric.  Eg, in Taylor Swift’s song ‘Blank Space’ I always thought the lyrics were “Got a list of Starbucks lovers” when it’s actually “Got a long list of ex-lovers”.  What a fucking mondegreen.

Tittle – This is the dot over an I or a J.  How cool is that?!

Bibble – Nothing to do with punctuation, it’s actually the noise you make when you’re a noisy eater.

Misophonia – The fear of specific noises.  Like cutting cardboard or eating Wotsits.

Trypophobia – The fear of irregular sized holes.  Google Image Search.  I might have this.

Zarf – This is the cardboard sleeve which protects your hand from searing hot take-away coffee.  How to use “If I can’t have a zarf can I at least have another cup?”

Frisson – The sudden feeling of excitement.  I used to always get this feeling before I went out.  It’s kinda like shivers, but some people also refer to it as having some one walk over their grave.  In future if you hear someone say this you can respond “No you dumb shit that was a frisson, duh.”

Glabella – The space between your eyebrows, just above your nose.  In a sentence; “I have a splitting pain behind my glabella”  HAHA!  No will know what you’re on about!

Dysania – I was shocked that this word isn’t used more often.  Dysania is the feeling you get in the morning when you are physically and emotionally struggling to get out of bed.

Jentacular – This comes after dysania.  It’s wanting breakfast as soon as you manage to get out of bed.

Wamble – Finally, this is the sound your stomach makes when it grumbles.  “Give me food, the wambles are getting out of hand.”  (Not sure if that’s correct use of the term)

Isn’t learning fun!?

To conclude, I just wanted to touch on what I’ve been harping on about in my previous bloggies – mindfulness and wellbeing. The reason I’ve started to read and learn a bit more is to aid my mental health.  I can’t stress enough how important it is to take time to do something for yourself, even if it is just learning the meaning of a new word.  A new word can start a conversation with a stranger, teach you something you may never have known and encourage you to go on and learn something else.

You have control over your kismet.  (Look it up)

If I Had Money.

I was going to title this blog ‘If I Were Rich’, but the more I thought about it the more I realized; I don’t want to be rich.  I don’t want to live like the Kardashians and have shoes that cost more than a car.  I don’t want to live in a mansion with 16 bathrooms and a pool the size of a tennis court.  I don’t even want to be able to hire a private jet to fly me to the moon and back.

The money I’m talking about is the illustrious ‘disposable income’.  If I had disposable income I would get so much shit done. Bills would be getting paid, left right and centre.  I could get my hair cut every 4 weeks (I heard that’s customary) and I could get my nails done when they’re ghastly, not just once a year for fancy occasions. I could drive everywhere and not agonize about the cost of petrol.  I could take my mum out for lunch a few times a month.  I could buy a few drinks in a bar instead of Tescos at the weekend. I could even purchase a single packet of crisps without thinking “80p for a packet of crisps?!?”

Maybe because it’s the end of the month and I’m marvellously broke, but recently all I can do is think of all the things I could achieve if I had ready money. Boyfriend and I have been looking for a house of late. It’ll be our first place together (we’re presently house-sharing) and it feels like a huge deal.  When we decided to start our own adventure, to say I was excited would be an understatement.  I wanted to move out within the hour.  I pictured myself putting up lamps, hanging up art, finding places for books, records, and the other phenomenal amount of stuff we own.  I had wistful visions Barney running around his new home exploring; we would maybe even get an opportunity to re-start his training – no more getting into bed with us in the morning, no more ‘little accidents’ against the skirting.  I’d be putting little Molly touches on everything, calling my mum for counsel and planning trips to Ikea.

You know what’s really shitting stressful?  Moving house.  It’s not like I thought it would be, wherein I look through a brochure and pick the attractive one with the nice garden, big windows and view of the city.  No no, we have very specific requirements that need to be met.  It’s becoming increasingly difficult to find a compromise.  Great house – beside a bonfire site.  Great price – no furniture. Great location – way over budget. Poor Boyfriend has to listen to me whinge and moan on about how I don’t want to live in a squat for the next three years, but at the same time I have to put up with him harping on about how “this is all we can afford”. If I had money, I’d be able to pay for the pleasant detached two bedroom house on the out-skirts of the city. I wouldn’t have to worry about the cost of petrol getting to and from work.  Wouldn’t have to factor in if we had to take the car to do groceries.  If I had money, I could pay for the stuff I want, and save for the stuff I need.

If I had money I could go back to school to study. I don’t often regret not going to University, and I am so fortunate not to have debt like so many others, but I do feel like I missed out on knowledge that could have been mine.  I know a lot of people will say their Course was futile, but I legitimately love learning, and I wish I felt this way when I left school after my A Levels.

If I had money, I don’t think my life would be greater, but I think it would enhance what I already have. I know a lot of people undergo these feelings.  I think it’s important to say that I realise I don’t know what’s in store for me, or what may be just around the corner, but I should mention that I’m rather impatient and it had best come quickly.  There’s a common misquote that “money is the route of all evil”, but it’s actually “The love of money is the route of all evil.”  I don’t worship money; I would just like some more of it.

50 Facts About Me.

Despite having written around eleven posts, there still some basic things I would like to share.  Some are funny, some are sad.  Some are missing, but they might be for another time.

1. I was born with jet black hair.  My Mum said if it wasn’t so fine, she could have put it in pig-tails.
2. My first pet was a dog, called Texas.  We had to give him away because we were moving house.  He came back from two different families, because he  snapped at their children. The third time he went to an older man who was planning on breeding him.  My Dad promised we could go see the puppies if there ever was any, but we didn’t hear from the man again.
3. My second pet was a hamster given to me from my swimming instructor.  He was also my Dads friend, so it’s not as strange as it sounds.  I don’t remember its name, but we only had it for a week until it died.  My Mum had cleaned out it’s cage with bleach and I think it suffocated.  My Brother and I thought it was frozen, so when he woke me up to show me it wasn’t moving, I put it under my pillow in an attempt to heat it up and bring it back to life. I’m not sure how long we did this for (a hot water bottle was also included), but I wasn’t upset when Mum tied him in a plastic bag and put him in the outside bin.
4. I’ve kept a diary intermittently my whole life.  Since 2009 I’ve had one every year.  It’s not really ‘Dear Diary’ type thing though. I use it to write down notable events and work things, appointments… General stuff I wouldn’t want to forget.  I stick receipts in there too, because they help me remember what I did that day.  I do this because I used to work with people with mental health and memory problems, and to me, losing the mind or forgetting your past is one of the saddest things that can happen to a body.
5. My first job was in Easons.  I don’t think I was very good at it, because I was only there for a few months on a Christmas contract.  My favorite task was filling out the sweets.  I had a major crush on the bosses nephew.
6. I adore reading, but my favorite books are undoubtedly, unashamedly and eternally the Harry Potter series.  I recently finished re-reading them, but I’ve lost count how many times I’ve finished them. I will read them to my children one day and they will fall in love with magic like I did.  True works of art are timeless, and for me, Harry Potter is just that.
7. Due to my love of all things Potter, my third pet was a guinea-pig called Ron.  He was jet black, but had a single ginger stripe across the middle of his back.  He lived for about 14 years, which is strange because they’re only supposed to live half that.  My mum cried the day he died.
8. I’ve lived in six different houses in my life.  My favorite was the second.  I have the best memories in that house.
9. When I was 9 my Mum and Dad were hit by a drunk driver walking down to one of my primary school plays.  My little brother Harry, who was around 7 at the time, had just ran ahead to catch up with some friends.  My Mum’s leg was shattered, and my Dad damaged his back.  Mum was in hospital for a long time, but I remember she got out on Christmas Eve.  We think if Harry hadn’t have run ahead, we would have been cancelling Christmas altogether.  On a brighter note, my little sister who was in Nursery at the time, heard the news and hardly reacted.  The lady who informed us had said “Your mum and dad were hit by a car”, but my sister thought she said “Your mum and dad were hit by a chair.” – She didn’t see what the big deal was.
10. Every girl in my class in Primary Four got into the choir except me.  I used to sit with the boys and play Lego.  Until my Granny complained the system was unfair.  I appreciate what she did, but I wouldn’t have let me into a choir either.
11. I cried once because I didn’t know what zero minus zero was.  (It’s zero.)
12. The first makeup I ever wore was eyeliner, and I thought I looked phenomenal.  I was about 10, and my Mum made me take it off straight away.  I think she could see how much I liked it, didn’t want me to get hooked.  Alas, to this day I adore make-up, and most of all a smokey eye.
13. My Mum cut me a fringe in first year of secondary school.  If ever there’s a time to DRASTICALLY change your hair style, do not do it when you are in the beginnings of puberty.  Maybe it’s a right of passage.  On the first day of my new ‘do’ my form teacher said I looked like Cleopatra, never did I feel such regret.  Another thing too, TO THIS DAY, I am still trying to grow out that bloody fringe.  It’s been a side fringe for the last 10 years, and I don’t know how to get rid of it without looking like a member of Hanson.
14. I did English Literature, Geography, History and Sociology for A Level.  My A Level years were the best two years of my life so far.  I met the people that shaped the person I am now and experienced so much freedom.  Summer 2009 hold some of my happiest memories, when I started to be confident and find myself as a person.
15. I had braces.  I should have got them when I was 12 or 13, but my orthodontist died and I was put in the back of the queue, meaning I didn’t get them till I was 15.  I didn’t smile with my teeth in photos for about three years.
16. I’ve had two best friends called Katie.
17. My fourth and fifth pets were cats.  Meena was an all black kitten, I rescued her when I was around 8 from under the butchers car.  We had to keep her at home overnight because the cattery was closed when I took her home.  I fell in love with her immediately, even though the next day she climbed up the back of the boiler; when we tried to chase her out she hid in the engine of the car.  It must have been warm in there, Mum and Dad were afraid to drive, so the car was stationary for about a week before we had to flush her out with the watering can.  She settled into and became part of the family after a bit of pampering, but never liked to go outside.  We got another cat, Ally, which my Mum found (stole) in a garden beside my Granny’s house.  Meena and Ally were best friends.  We moved a few years after that, and one night Meena didn’t come home.  My older brother and I found her squished on the road not far from the house.  Sad and ironic how she hated to go outside, and the one time she decided to be a little adventurous was the last.  Ally sat on the windowsill for weeks looking out for her. It was sad. Ally still lives with my parents in Camlough, I still love her very much.  She must be nearly 18 now.  She’s senile and not allowed in the house anymore, because she kept coming in and pissing on the towels in the hot-press.
18. I’ve had around seven jobs.  My favorite was in a bar in Carlingford. I met a lot of cool people and drank a lot of cool drinks.  This was where I accidentally experienced my first ‘cigarette butt in beer’ cocktail.
19. If you asked me what my favorite food was, I’d say an apple.  If I’m hungover, it’s crisps.  I’d rather have five snacks than a meal.
20. I really hate coriander and celery.  I used to hate tomatoes, but I can just about stand them now.
21. I’ve had four boyfriends which I would regard as worth mentioning.  They weren’t serious, but I spent enough time with them that they impacted my life in certain ways, good and bad.
22. I’m sure the relationship I’m in now is the one.
23. Before I go to sleep at night, or if I’m really relaxed, I tap my foot against the other one, so that my leg moves slightly. It sort of rocks me off to sleep and indicates I’m truly content.  It’ll annoy the life out of you if you’re sharing a bed with me though.
24. My dreams are vivid, and I generally remember them easily.  I once told my little Sister about one of my dreams as a story before bed.  It ended as a dream does – with no conclusion – but she begged me to go to sleep and dream some more so she could find out what happened.  I never dream the same dream twice, so we never found out what happened to Harry Styles and the underwater people.
25. I was 11 when I had my first kiss.
26. I’m 5’10.
27. I’ve been to two funerals and three wakes in my life.  Both my Grandads are dead, I was 3 when my Mum’s Dad died.  I remember him lying there in one of the spare rooms during the wake, everyone was crying but I kept asking my mum “Why isn’t Granda getting up?” Way to rub it in, Molly, jeeze.
28. When my Mum announced she was pregnant with my brother Harry, I replied “Can’t we have a puppy instead?”
29. When I met my current Boyfriend, I told him I was a naturally clean and tidy person.  I don’t know why I said this, as this is not true.  I am as messy as they come.  I do go through little ‘bursts’ of wanting to have everything in the right place, but ultimately, sometimes the right place for everything is the floor of the bedroom.
30. Halloween is my favorite time of year.
31. I destroyed my first bike by crashing into a bush.  I was going downhill, the brakes were broken and I didn’t want to go onto the main road and get hit by a car.  I steered into a bush and sat their crying while my Brother went and fetched my Dad.
32. I learned to drive when I was 21, and passed my test on the third attempt.
33. My first (and current) car is a red 2008 Seat Ibiza.  I saved up and paid for it myself.
34. I am STILL obsessed with the videos Chandelier and Elastic Heart by Sia.  I think Maddie Zeigler is absolutely astounding, and if I start watching either video I cannot take my eyes off it until it’s finished.  She makes me want to be a professional dancer, despite not even bunny-hop-with-a-twist in P.E when I was in school.
35. I generally don’t like TV shows, but love and appreciate a great movie.  I’ve never seen a good book-to-movie adaption.  Perhaps surprisingly, I would say my favorite movie is 300.  It blew my mind the first time I watched it, so I watched it twice again that day.  Each time was better than the last.
36. My sixth and seventh pets were Irish wolfhounds named Meena (in memory of cat Meena) and Monkey.  We got Meena as a puppy, but Monkey was a gift from a rich client of my Dads’.  We live in the country beside a mountain, and one of the first times dad took Meena and Monkey out for a walk together, Monkey jumped over a fence and broke his front paws.  My Dad and Brother had to carry him back down the mountain.  If you don’t know what male Irish Wolfhounds look like… Well, it was like carrying a small pony down the side of a mountain.  Monkey’s paws healed, but he always walked funny.  He died last year.  Writing that made me sad, which is strange, because I never paid him much attention when we had him.  Meena is still alive, but she’s getting old and I think the end is nigh.
37. My favorite way of relaxing is on the sofa with a blanket.  Bonus points if it’s dark and cold outside.
38. I’d rather be too hot than too cold.
39. My feet are size 6.
40. My favorite restaurant is Wetherspoons.  Cheap and cheerful.  Not like me at all.
41. I do not and have never liked Primark.  I have bought things from there, only to regret it later.
42. I have an addiction to cooking programmes.  The Hairy Bikers are my favorite.  They’re probably the only celebrities I wouldn’t be intimidated to meet.
43. I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember, but I just can’t think of a story to write.
44. I bruise like a peach.  I wake up with new bruises on my legs almost every week with no idea how they got there.
45. My ninth and tenth pets were fish called Kep and Roger.  Boyfriend and I bought them last summer, but they only lived for three days until Roger ate Kep and somehow they both died.
46. There was a point in my life when My Chemical Romance was my favorite band.
47. When I was around 6, I stuck a pin in an apple hoping my brother would eat it.  My granny found out and hit me with a wooden spoon.
48. I used to have three elderly neighbors growing up; Billy, his wife Winnie, and her brother Tommy.  They all lived together next door. I don’t remember meeting them, but I do remember they were my best friends from around the age of 5 till 10.  They bought me my first bike, my Holy Communion dress, and kept a tin of sweets stocked up for when I came over.  They didn’t have their own kids, and I recently found out everyone else in the village though they were grumpy old people with a chip on their shoulder.  My mum said I brought out the very best in them, and they died happy; First Billy, then Tommy, and finally Winnie.
49. Barney is my eleventh pet.  A Parson Russel, you had best not confuse him with a Jack Russel, as he is far more handsome. The other day in the park I let him off his lead so he could run on a bit while I bent down to tie my shoe.  He came back covered in shit and we had to go home early.  His farts are the worst.  He is the best.
50. I am happy.

I Went on a Holiday.

Bonjour!

I went to France!

About three weeks ago.

I told myself I wasn’t going to blog during my time away; I had no internet anyway and…  Well I’m lying.  I didn’t blog because my priority was to eat bread and drink wine all day.  I surpassed that goal, and ate bread and drank wine all day and all night.  Seriously, instead of brushing my teeth one morning, I tore off a piece of baguette and ate it.  I made sure to chew it plenty.  Plaque be gone.

Boyfriend and I were away for two weeks altogether.  I finished work and that holiday buzz began, even though I had to wait three days before leaving the country.  Did it stop me packing at 9am, an hour after I clocked off?  No-sir-eeee!  Barney was staying at my parents house so I packed him a little bag too.

Last year when we went to Majorca, we decided to take just one carry-on and get a big bag checked in.  This year, we figured it would be smarter to take smaller suitcases, as we were staying in Boyfriend’s parents’ house, therefore didn’t need much stuff.  Fully aware of the amount of unworn items in last year’s suitcase, this year I packed sensibly; four pairs of shorts, about ten t-shirts, one jumpsuit, three pairs of shoes (Nike runners and two pairs of sandals), two long dresses and four bikinis.  I ended up wearing all the shorts, about four tops, three bikini (tops), neither the dresses nor the jumpsuit and actually having to purchase a new pair of sandals, because the ones I took with me didn’t fit when I walked (if I stood still they were smokin’) and the others broke on the first day, so I had to put them in the skip at the bottom of the road when we went to the bottle bank.

Boyfriend had decided to rent a car, which was a super cool silver Ford Festia.  Did I drive the cool car?  Not even once.  They drive on the other side of the road in France, and I can barely tell left from right in my own country, never mind a foreigners’, so unfortunately, when we pulled out of the airport in our cool car, I started screaming; “You’re supposed to be on the right, the RIGHT!” I had had a few glasses of vino at the airport, but Boyfriend must have forgotten this as he jerked the wheel from side to side as he temporarily doubted himself.  He was a tad miffed, as we were actually already on the right side of the road.  My panic had infected his judgement for a millisecond, so I decided to keep quiet for the rest of the drive.

There are certain things that reassure you that you’re on holiday.  The smell when you walk out of the airport, it smells like heat, it hugs your skin and bones; you can’t help but take in a gulp of it with the cheesiest of grins on your face.  Another reassurance is the slight difference in landscape – French countryside is beautiful; flat and many shades of beige, with the horizon seeming an impossible distance away.  What I enjoyed most on our various jaunts in the car, was seeing the sunflower fields, it was like looking at thousands of children all looking up toward the sun.  I always thought it was funny that there was one really tall one poking up in the middle, as if it was on its tip-toes and straining its neck.  There was also something sorrowful about the way they seemed to look down when the sun went away, as if hanging their heads in hopelessness.

I fell asleep for a little while, even though it only took about an hour to reach the house.  My first impression was “That’s a skinny house” – but it was deceptive because it was tall. Inside, the space was perfectly managed; I declared I wanted to live there right away.  Then I had the challenge of walking up the stairs.  They were the wooden ones that are connected to the banister and stuck into the wall, the ones that terrified me as a child because they didn’t have a back; I always thought someone would grab my feet as I made my incline to the second floor.  No one grabbed my feet though, but I still clung to the railing every morning when I came down for breakfast.  We slept in bunk beds, which was great because it was roasting, so I didn’t have the immersion heater that is Boyfriend beside me, and Boyfriend didn’t have the Magic Fuzzy Wiggly Twisty Worm Toy Snake beside him (I move a lot in my sleep).

We did touristy things, visited a castle (narrow spiral stairs – also notably scary) , went to ZooParc Beauval (one of only 17 Zoos in the world that has Pandas – As I politely informed anyone who looked at me) We went swimming, for about 40 minutes until I got hungry and wanted to leave.  We went to a nightclub, although I don’t remember much of that, apart from chants of “MONTALONG, MONTALONG!”  We went to a theme park called Futuroscope and stood in some queues. We had a couple of BBQs, the first being a disposable from Intermarché, Boyfriend ate one cooked sausage and I had half a fillet of salmon before the coals sort of burned out and we had to use the oven.  The second BBQ was a more professional matter, we went to a friend’s house and they supplied us with food and drink, I was in my element when FIVE trays of snacks were brought out; cheese, crisps, nuts, tomatoes (with cheese), bread, more cheese.  Our hosts declared they didn’t go to much trouble, although I think they appreciated the glee in my eyes when the trays of nibbles and salads were coming out.

It is inevitable to argue with whoever you’re with whilst on holiday, but I think Boyfriend and I did pretty well.  If we did argue, it’s because we couldn’t decide on somewhere to eat, or what we wanted to do that day, or I was doing that annoying thing I do where I expect Boyfriend to be able to read my mind.  I should have just told him I what I wanted to do.  Then he could disagree and we could get on with whatever he wanted to do (ooooh, burn!)

On our last day, we spent most of the morning tidying up the house.  We drove to the city closest to our airport as we had a little time to kill.  Despite having been in France for the past 13 days, we forgot that all shops close from around 12am till 2pm for Lunch.  This would, of course, be the day that I had planned to get souvenirs for my family.  I ended up buying a packet of crisps for the plane instead.

All in all, we had a gay old time.  I didn’t get a tan, I didn’t die of alcohol poisoning, I didn’t eat frogs legs, I didn’t try pastries or chocolate, because of this, I will be returning to France when the next opportunity presents itself.

The Problem with Unidentified Sadness.

Why is it that there’s times in life when you can’t be happy?  I’m not talking about those who suffer from a mental health issues like manic depression or bipolar disorder.  I’m talking about the inexplicable times where you sit back and admit to yourself that you’re just sad.

I have read and laughed at a number of articles online that have highlighted the differences between men and women.  One of my personal favourites is the picture of a man and woman in bed, obviously a couple, lying with their backs to each other.  They’re both awake and look deep in thought.  The woman is thinking something along the lines of; 

“Why doesn’t he love me anymore?  Why hasn’t he spoken to me in days?  Did I do something?  Should I change for him? Is it because I put on 2lbs?”

At the same time he’s staring into the distance thinking, “Why wouldn’t the car start last Thursday?”

I am not saying that men are emotionally vacant, which this article implied.  I am questioning why I am emotionally plagued.  This might be an entry I do not want my boyfriend to read after what I’m about to admit, but sometimes, I am downright insane.  

My boyfriend is my best friend, and we get along pretty much all of the time. I do feel sorry for him however, when I get the dreaded ‘unidentified sad’. There’s been a time where he’s come home from work and went into the kitchen instead of coming in and saying hello to me first.  This has upset me.  

He’s good at telling if I’m distressed because he asks, “Why you wee sourpuss face?” Which makes me laugh, then become more annoyed because he’s not taking my feelings seriously.  I become increasingly pugnacious with every word he says.  I’m a wee sourpuss face because I feel like being a wee sourpuss face.  Why won’t he leave me alone?  But he better not DARE leave me alone, not without fixing my non-existent problem of ‘unidentified sad’. He better sit there under my baleful stare.  But he better not look me in the eye. Or use a certain tone of voice.  Or sit less than six inches away from me. Or hug me for more than 10 seconds. Or stand up.  Or sit down.  Or breathe.

Let’s face it, when I have ‘unidentified sad’, that poor man is fucked.

When I was younger and my parents used to fight, they would bitch behind each other’s back to my siblings and me.  My mum would complain my dad never listened or took hints, and my dad would complain my mum should see a brain doctor.  I told myself when I was in a serious relationship I would just TELL my partner what was wrong rather than have them guess.  I was good at this at the start, but there came to be a point in our relationship where I just felt he should know.  He should know things, like I know that he’s looking for his keys.  He should know I’m mad that he didn’t text me first, like I know he’s mad because he’s hungry.  He should know what to get me in the shop even when I don’t know what I want.

My literary effusions are in jest, but in the past I have been in a very dark place.  I worry when ‘unidentified sad’ lingers with me throughout the day like a gloomy dark cloud.  I have found the best way to extinguish this feeling is by embracing it.  I let it get to its worst, and then I let it go.  Sometimes I need to be sad.  It’s wrong for me to labour myself with the delusion that everything is consistently rosy, because periodically (and realistically), it isn’t.

There are things that keep ‘unidentified sad’ away – spending quality time with my boyfriend (phones away and wine poured), my dog when he’s being a good boy, talking to my dad on the phone (mum too when she’s in a good mood), seeing my brother and sisters, food, knitting, exercise, painting my nails or doing my make-up, writing, breakfast in bed (despite crumbs), reading, watching cooking programs, or just sitting thinking.  

What helps me most is realizing that I am not alone.  I had a comment about my last post from a girl I haven’t spoken to in years, who told me she agreed with everything I had written and really enjoyed my blog so far.  I’m always solicitous to cultivate opinions so I was touched, her small act of appreciation brought a golf-ball shaped lump of emotion into my throat.  Just to know someone can identify with me as a person, makes fighting my own ‘unidentified sad’ seem perfectly perfunctory. 

People.

Apologies first off if any of this content offends you. It’s not meant to, it only refers to one person in particular, and then I’m speaking generally. 

The following is a small list of people I have found in this world who I cannot lend any more of my time to.

1. People who constantly complain about their job.

Maybe it’s simply that my soul has not yet been broken and I don’t have enough experience to realise the burden of work but I have always found people who consistently complain about their job to be immediately, thoroughly and irreversibly unlikable.  Everyone has bad days, and is completely entitled to a bitch about their employer or a customer.  I have done it myself; whether it is a particularly difficult customer trying to return a necklace that IS NOT FROM OUR SHOP, or a manager who thinks they have the Divine Right of God, I have occasionally swore under my breath and rolled my eyes.  I have, however, encountered those who hate their job so much, they seem to have made it a priority to spend every other breath saying phrases such as; “I fucking hate this place!” or “I don’t have time for this!” – Well…  You should have time for this… It’s your job, and you’re being paid (pretty decently) for doing it, and if you hate this place so much, do something about it.

2. People who laugh, and expect you to ask “What’s so funny?”

This is pretty specific, but it has always got on my nerves.  I especially hate the kinda quiet people who actively try to be ‘weird’ and laugh to themselves out of the blue.  NEVER ask these people what’s so funny. This is different to people who laugh at something but immediately share the joke, knowing you will find it funny too.  Sharing is caring, and sharing laughter is one of the greatest things you can do.

3. Rude people.

I remember my first day of Primary Six.  It was a particularly daunting year, due to the new-found pressure of the 11+ exam, and that for the first time in my scholarly life, I had a male teacher.  The male teachers were already infamous for being strict, so we were all shitting ourselves on our first day.  In he walks, doesn’t even say hello, just barks for quiet and turns to the board and writes “MANNERS”.  I wish the rest of the human population was also included in this lesson, because there is an embarrassing amount of us out there who have yet to grasp the concept of please and thank you.  This is particularly directed at people who work in the customer service industry.  I am sorry if you feel beleaguered by my custom, and you might be having a bad day, but you would probably cheer up if you engaged with the humans around you. If you are naturally impertinent – I will not like you.

4. People who are bullies for fun.

I had a pretty horrible time in my first few years of secondary school.  One person in particular seemed to take an unnatural amount of joy in making me cry on a daily basis.  I don’t know a lot about what happened to her, but she dropped out of school just after her G.C.S.E’s and moved in with her boyfriend.  I’ll make no further comment on her life choices. It sounds cliche, but bullies are cowards.  Some of the most terrifying videos I’ve seen on the internet are ones of the teenage girls beating up people for the fun of it, just to show off to their friends and hide their own insecurities.  

5. People who are cruel to animals.

Maybe it is because I love Barney (doggy) so much, but recently, I can’t even bring myself to imagine something bad happening to him.  We were in the park once, it was one of the first times I let him off the lead.  I was so surprised with how good he was being, my soul felt like it was radiating joyful light as I watched him frolic around with the other dogs.  He wasn’t barking or growling, he was playing, his little black eyes and nose were shiny and happy, like pieces of wet coal. Then some asshole came by on his bike, cycling about 20 MPH and RAN OVER BARNEY! Barney got squished by the front tire, but managed to get up and jump out of the way before the second one hit.  The bike didn’t go fully over him – it happened so fast I didn’t know what had really happened.  Barney yelped and I shot over, he limped for a few steps and shook his head and didn’t want to play for a while.  He just sat on my knee and looked sad.  I was almost in tears. This was an accident but I don’t even want to get into some of the horror stories I have heard or watched involving the abysmal treatment of animals.

6. People who are close-minded.

I was pleasantly surprised when Caitlin Jenner’s photo came out on Vanity Fair, to see that NOT ONE person on my Facebook news feed made fun of her. I’m pleased that everyone I know personally (as in face-to-face) supported the ‘Yes’ to Gay Marriage vote in Ireland a few months ago. I do not want to associate with a person who discriminates against someone for who they are.  It is not a life-choice they have made, it is the very core of their being; the way they were born. There will never be a circumstance when it’s OK to think someone is less than you. I also happen to think it should be compulsory for homophobic people to watch Ru Paul’s Drag Race…  But that might be a bit of a stretch.

 

The qualities I value in people are simple.  I gravitate towards productive and positive people; those who emanate natural, unreserved and genuine charm. I am trying harder to mirror those I admire.  I am not a beacon of perfection, so don’t assume this is some self-appreciating post about how magnificent I am as a person. I do believe people can break habits and change. In the interim I’ll just keep my fingers crossed in the hope that I don’t annoy people as much as they annoy me.