Christmas: The Finger Buffet

I never knew why Boxing Day was called Boxing Day, I thought it had something to do with sport, but no. According to the Student's Life Guide, Wikipedia, it was a custom in the UK for tradesmen to collect "Christmas boxes" of money or presents on the first weekday after Christmas as thanks for good service throughout the year.

Like this.

From my own personal experience, this is the day that Mother of Me brings out all the scraps and pieces of food that no-one was willing to ingest in fear of exploding on Christmas Day. She calls it, the "Finger Buffet".

I have never completely understood why we would be convinced that this food is more edible and appealing that the day before based on:

A) It has been chopped into smaller, "finger-fun-sized" pieces

B) It has been placed precariously onto a plate that she holds less dear than the expensive ones used on Christmas Day

C) She declares to the house (with great pride and satisfaction) that the "Finger Buffet" is ready, DIG IN!!

Let me make this clear, I feel no personal need to basically eat what would have been a nicer meal yesterday when I was slightly (HA) intoxicated, high on "new present fumes" and safe in the knowledge that I won't have to eat for another week or so, in the fear that if I do, I will be what medical people call "Morbidly Whale Formed".

Farewell,

:)

Christmas: The Train, The Student and the Old Person

To explain the story, I live in Southampton, and due to the UKs inability to cope with the snow, and any form of cold in general. I had to travel up to Yorkshire on a train, the only form of transport that works, and that is plagued with delays and other tedious wastes of time. But I had a seat reserved, so everything was well with the world.

I have discovered that trains combined with long journeys have more in common with a soul destroying demon dog than they do with the real world. They are pure evil. You can always guarantee that there will be a small child in front who feels the need to play their own version "peek-a-boo" which usually revolves around them staring at you, over an extended period of time, and not getting bored.
Horrible fact number 1.

As well as the child who has a weirdly long attention span, there are the token old people, who have adopted the ideology that the world owes them because they are old, wrinkly and have a hatred for anyone under 30.
Horrible fact number 2.

Horrible fact number's 1 and 2 were combined on this particular journey, and the old person in question was a particularly nasty specimen, she didn't like students, end of conversation.
I had a massive bag with me which I had managed to drag onto the Train of Evil, and put on the seat next to me (as there was no-where left in the storage bit).
I saw her coming from the bottom of the carriage.

I had 3 options.
1 - Smile politely and move the bag
2 - Stare out of the window as if I was in deep thought
3 - Pretend to be asleep, put my I-Pod in and hope to hell that she went away.
I chose option 3, but she didn't go away. Boo.

She came over, her eyes livid with the jealousy of youth and vitality (me...HA). As I feigned sleep with evry fibre of my being, she started poking me.
I kept the façade going as long as I could, but she was one determined old biddy, damn her!

To cut a long story short, this is how the conversation went:

Her - *Poking with her pointy talon* You, you there....you!
Me - *Grumbling* What?
Her - *Poking the bag* That shouldn't be there. I want that seat. (keep in mind there were about 10 other chairs dotted around)
Me - Well where else is there to put it?
Her - Anywhere but the chair, I want it, move the bag...
Me - Where else is there to put it?
Her - Anywhere but the chair, I want...
Me - Yes, you've made it clear you want the chair, please by all means, if you can find me somewhere else to put the bag and I will move it, and you can have this seat
Her - I want THAT..SEAT!!

She gave me the dirtiest look, mumbled something in the Tongue of the Old-Person, and shuffled off. She then proceeded to have a go at some other poor victim who had a handbag on the chair next to her.
Both bags were moved, and she sat next to me, Boo some more.
I took the I-Pod out and started to read, she took it upon herself to eat the biggest and loudest bag of crisps ever. Evil EVIL WOMAN!!

So, I put the I-Pod back in, and turned the music up as far as it would go, Hallelujah for overly-loud earphones that Boyfriend brought.

Victory was mine, she didn't look happy, but accepted her fate.
Good on her, she had the determination to have that for another 5 hours, at intervals of 20 minutes.

Farewell

:)

Life: Go Compare Guy

There are no real words to portray my hate of this individual. I understand that he is a character that has been created by a multi-national insurance corporation, and they are purely selling a product. But drug dealers are selling their products, and I have no lost love for them either.
He is the epitome of what is wrong with the world. Combine him with the X-Factor, snakes, PDA's (Public Displays of Affection) and socially-inept people, and you might as well hand me the gun now.
Every time this TV advert comes on, I feel the rage spiralling up inside me. The occupants of the room seem to have learnt a method of telekinetic-foresight that allow them to dodge the flying objects that will suddenly hurtle towards the TV with the speed of shit off a shovel.
This is how the situation nearly always ends.

I hate him. He is the bane of my life. I will hunt down the creators of this advert, and destroy them.

Farewell

:)

Life: The 3 Deaths of InDesign

May InDesign be forever the bane of any student's life.
Even breathing the word "InDesign" can bring any student to the floor, sobbing quietly in the feotal position, in a pool of their own dribble.
This is from my experience anyway.

In reality, we just slowly simmer until the end of the seminar and then hold an 20 minute long discussion on how shit InDesign actually is, how it is putting us off existing, and should be destroyed.

So I dedicate this to you, students who hate InDesign CS5.
I have come up with my 3 main ways, in which it should be destroyed.

1) Be sacrificed by a host of strange, mutated animals who hunger for the secrets of STICKING TO THE FUCKING BASSLINE GRID!! and making all their images HIGH RESOLUTION, THEY MUST BE HIGH RESOLUTION!!

2) Be sent back in a time machine to a few hundren, million, gazillion squillion years ago where that meteorite thing hit the world and destroyed the dinosaurs. The Big Man Up Above (aka. God) sent this massive hunk of flaming rock down to kill the dinosaurs because of the fact that they DIDN'T USE PAGE FURNITURE!! SHAME ON THEM!!

3) Be framed with the death of an innocent little bird, and placed infront of an animal rights protest, where it will be ripped to shreds. The animal rights protesters will say they destroyed the evil InDesign because IT HAD TO BE TOLD FOR 3 WEEKS IN A ROW WHAT A COLOUR WAS!! Hang your head in shame InDesign, red and green should NEVER been seen!!

And this was the 3 ways in which I see InDesign being destroyed.
Hope you enjoyed,

Farewell,

:)

Life: Socially Inept Old Person

So basically, it is 4am, and I really can not sleep. I have been trying to train myself for a while to just get into bed and close my eyes, and imagine that I have been hypnotised so I will be able to sleep the same hours as any other normal human being. But all I have so far managed to do, is think of things from past jobs that made me laugh.
Like socially inept old person.

Scenario: I worked in a cafe for three years. I was a waiter and I did enjoy the job. The tips were good, and the people were old and had funny stories to tell, or were just a little bit eccentric. There was a regular, total crack pot (bless her heart). She was blissfully unaware of social etiquette or anything that wouldn't involve embarrassing her family/husband/people in the general vacinity...you get the point.

I was walking in with her (and don't ask how I remember this, it was about 7 years ago now) roast lamb, three potatoes, parsnips, peas and carrots (no gravy) just the way she liked it. We started talking. I politely accepted that I was now about to lose roughly 30 minutes of my life with nodding in the right places and pretending that her most recent escapade with the blue rinse sewing club affected my life. She suddenly turned round and asked:

"Would you like to see a picture of my pussy?" (with a completely oblivious smile on her face I might add)

This was me:

But I think I handled this socially and mentally disturbing situation quite well, I coughed slightly and politely refused, on the grounds that I enjoyed being able to see, and not be mentally scarred for life. Clearly, she didn't listen, and she slooooowly reached into her handbag. I nearly screamed, but I didn't, just closed my eyes and prayed for a quick death.

When I opened my eyes again, this is what I was greeted with.

I was overjoyed, I nearly hugged her....nearly.
I was thinking of the tip to be honest.

Socially inept old people, you've gotta love them!

Farewell,

:)

Life: My Short Attention Span

I suppose this is a procrastination post. Let's be honest here, I'm supposed to be writing a 2000 word feature about domestic violence for University. I have 945 words and my mind is wandering elsewhere. Hopefully when it gets there it will be sunny and filled with wide eyed, smiling bunnies stuffed full of rainbows and happiness. Lucky mind.

So I just thought I would come and post about how I am feeling right now, in the form of Paint. It amuses me and keeps me occupied, as I feel that I have the current attention span of a ADHD suffering rock "/

I should be happily tapping away, getting in the flow of things and generally not being distracted by Paint, shiny things and/or prospects of bed time (like this)

But in fact, things are more going along the lines of this,

Now, a word of warning. Hitting your head on the keyboard in hope that when you a) get rid of the head ache, and b) gain consciousness, the work will be done. It will not, you will only end up with a pounding headache, a broken computer and a feeling of great embarrassment with the sudden knowledge that you curtains were open and people are now laughing at you.
I'm going to stop procrastinating now, and actually get on with doing something productive and beneficial to my life.

Farewell

:)

Life: Why Snakes are the Spawn of Satan Himself

Everyone has an irrational fear. Spiders, animals, ketchup, cheese, washing up (insert your own here) but:
SNAKES ARE THE SPAWN OF SATAN
They are evil. End of conversation.

Why would anything that doesn't have legs and isn't sponsored by a charity be nice?
Why would something without legs have a grudge against the world and bite people?
Where do the fangs dripping with poison and death go when their evil, soul swallowing mouth thing closes?
What is their purpose in life?
Why are they colour coded depending on the amount of death and destruction they can cause with one flame filled look?
Why can they jump from tree to tree and swim?

None of these questions have ever been answered, and yet snakes are still allowed to live. They slither (EURGH) around with their no-legged bodies (EURGH) and strike when you least expect it.

This is my diagram explaining the body and purpose of each part of a snake.

They are evil.
Farewell

:)

Life: Should worry less about snow

What is it about the English as a whole that seem to be rendered a group of hidden in fear, locking all doors, refusing entry to anyone from "THE OUTSIDE" when it comes to snow? The dreaded powdery white stuff that looks like it might taste a bit like sugar but in all retrospect just scares us to the core.

Every single winter the snow comes an the UK descends into ABSOLUTE AND COMPLETE CARNAGE!! The SALT WILL RUN OUT, we can't possibly do anything! PROTECT THE ELDERLY AND CHILDREN AND RUN FOR THE CARIBBEAN!! Seriously, send the most snow-fearing-idiots to Russia and then see how they cope.

For those who do not have the ideology that SNOW + THE UK = ABSOLUTE MAYHEM, but still don't want to go outside and die on your doorstep, then here are a few pointers.

A) Create a ring of fire surrounding your house that will burn for 40 days and 40 nights to ward off the evil that is snow. Use anything that could/might/you once thought would but now aren't so sure whether it will burn or not. Just throw it in there, it it blows up, all the better!

B) Create a large fort filled with duvet's, pillows, Monster Munch and magazines to wait out the evilness that is outside. Don't worry, if you do survive, you will be honoured by your fellow men for not complaining and being proactive about surviving the harsh, unexpected English winter.
                                       
C) STOP COMPLAINING! At least you have somewhere to go at the end of your hard day of shuffling papers and delegating tasks to others who you feel are beneath you but are actually plotting you downfall as you speak! Others cannot afford the heating, or don't even have a home. Stop being selfish and SHUT UP!

Farewell,

:)

Life: Should Ban Horror Films

I have never been a fan of horror films, especially when crazy people are involved, but as a nearly grown adult, I felt that I would make the decision to allow my friends to play this film. I regret this decision…A LOT!

I am now firmly avoiding all contact with the TV and keeping my eyes firmly glued to the computer screen, only occasionally glancing around to make sure that there are now deranged, psychopathic killers about to jump out from behind the potted plant and drag me out of the house, screaming and crying like a little girl.

My versions of reality and the thing that’s not reality (I forget what the word is right now) is becoming more and more blurred as we speak. I have the niggling sensation that if I move from this sofa then something is going to eat me/drag me under the kitchen cabinet/generally cause me to curl up in the foetal position and cry hysterically.

The most disturbing thing is, the other two guys here seem to be under the impression that I am enjoying this experience. Let me make this clear, I am not in the slightest, I am in fact terrified and in desperate need to fluffy magical fairies to make me feel better. They too seem to be scared and aren’t coming to my rescue. Not happy in the slightest.

I will have to let you know whether I make it through the night without any further drama. Wouldn’t get your hopes up to be honest

NXGzine: My work experiences

So, as a in-training journalist type person, I feel it is best if I actually have a serious note on this blog and show you some of the work that I have done myself.
I am currently a contributor for a bi-monthly magazine in London called NXGzine
So here are a few links to the work that I have actually have on their website already :)
(There are only a few here, but search on their website and you will find more)

Article 1
Article 2
Article 3

Follow the magazine on Twitter and Facebook to find out more :)

Farewell

:)

Life: Is like being buried alive

Me and my ickle roomie Cat are currently boy-cotting life and the outside world. It is hard.
Last year we used to be in student accommodation, life was easier then.
The real world didn't exist and we were carefree little pixie's, running around in our jim-jams with cups of tea and smiling faces.

Then we moved. We had to grow up. We don't like it. It mean's we are part of civilised society and should act accordingly. Gone are the days when we could go to the shops in our jim-jams and duvets with a cup of tea and toast at 6 p.m. That is now frowned upon by every one who lives a normal, functional human life.

Here is a picture I drew to aid your understanding of our pain at being "adults".

Farewell, I'm going to do normal things now, and not preoccupy my time with rubbish paint doodlings.

Farewell

:)

The First Post of New Start

Ah yes, another post in the never-ending cycle of blogging.

Looks like things have changed a bit. Currently sat huddling under a blanket, the thought of winter sun keeping me alive and functioning like a normal human being/sub-human student (the reality is in fact: the news is OBSESSED with the idea that its snowing, THE UK WILL GRIND TO A HALT, SALT SUPPLIES WILL RUN OUT....WE CAN'T POSSIBLY DO ANYTHING WITH THIS UNFORGIVING, UNEXPECTED ANTARCTIC BLIZZARD!!) and hoping that I will suddenly inherit some finance from a family member/external source/a leprechaun will take pity on me and hand over his crock of gold with a hug filled with rainbows and plane tickets to a far-away sunny place.

Not going to happen. Its cold, my toes have developed what is professionally called "frost bite" and I call "TURN THE HEATING ON I CAN'T FEEL ANYTHING THAT I USE TO MOVE/BALANCE/NOT BE CLASSED AS A WIERD NO-TOED MUTANT!"

Oh well, Boyfriend will be coming soon. He will ensure that I survive the night. Possibly via a) soup, b) hugs or c) showing how manly he really is and burning things to create fire a.k.a The Mortal and Constant Enemy of Cold (I'm hoping for option C to be honest)

Oh well, I am going to try and defrost my limbs so I can move now, going to make a cup of tea and hope I don't die on the way, 

Farewell

:)