Alcoholism, lack of sleep and stair puking

Hello friends! I'll start by saying a quick sorry for not posting all month. It's been a mixed month for adulting - I had a Tinder relapse and didn't even get close to quitting smoking, however on the plus side, I haven't let any utensils grow mould and haven't had to wear one pair of pants twice! Lets call it even.

So me and the gang have moved into the new pad and it is AMAZING. It's basically a palace. I have discovered this new house proud part to my personality that I didn't know existed, and it turns out I'm not that bad at cleaning really, I just used to live in a house that was so shitty my unconscious mind decided it would be pointless to clean it because it would still look totally wank. We also have a dishwasher. Which helps.

So today, I thought I'd write a bit about each of my new housemates for those of you who dont already know them, as I'm sure they will be popping up in future blogs.

I'll start with Simmons (Izzy).

Me and Simmons have known eachother since we looked like this.

11 years of friendship, and what an 11 years it has been. In year 7 we were in the same form class, and Simmons took me under her wing. I was the weird posh kid who had a massive fringe and actually did her homework and had no friends, and she was naughty and loud and would get referrals and detentions every day. Before I knew it I was naughty and loud and would get detentions every day. She has truly helped shape who I am today <3

We've been through an awful lot in the time we have known eachother. We've spent all night in the woods drinking strongbow.

We've spent all night on the beach drinking strongbow.

We've been to fancy dress parties and drank strongbow.

We've drunk too much strongbow.

We've worn too much fake tan and not enough clothes.

We've shared bad hairstyles, terrible outfits and chavvy poses.

We shared our prom.

We've shared 11 Christmases and 11 birthdays

And as you can see we have shared a lot of photos that we wish didn't exist.

Having lived with Izzy for two weeks I've learned shes basically an aggressive Monica from friends. She loves to cook and clean, which is obviously fab, but then she shouts at us afterwards because we didn't help.

She also likes to do nice things like buy you gifts when shes out or make a cheesecake, and then ask you if she is your favorite housemate. 'So if there was an award for the best housemate, would they call it the Izzy??'.

And you know how when you move into your first house you have all these elaborate plans to decorate and buy matching sets of crockery and a beanbag and then never actually get round to buying any of it because you spend all your money on booze? Well Izzy actually bought us matching crockery sets and a bean bag and a vinyl player and a rug and a coffee table and a mirror for the living room. I FINALLY HAVE A BEANBAG <3 <3 <3

Shes on the whole a pretty fab housemate, but she isn't the best at dealing with stress, for example, on Friday she went out with her new office (of two weeks) to let off some steam, and came home off her tits at 9pm, puked on the garden step and passed out on the sofa. Lad.

Next I'll tell you a little bit about Adam.

You know how it feels when you wait your whole life for a puppy and you finally get it? You spend your childhood watching all your friends and their puupys all happy, and you've only dreamed of it? Well I've waited my whole life for a gay best friend, and I have finally found it in Adam. He's my first puppy.

Unfortunately, he's probably the shittest gay best friend ever, because he's not really very gay. He's not at all flamboyant and he doesn't perform routines from musicals for me and I've never seen him do jazz hands. When we go out together everyone just thinks we are a couple and we just cock block each other (although I suppose it doesn't help that when we are drunk we hold hands and snog). In fact I'm pretty sure everyone on my facebook thinks we are a couple because all of the guys I was speaking to swiftly stopped talking to me when I started uploading regular pictures of Adam and I together. In fairness, we would have great babies...

I mean, check us out.

We also act like a married couple. One minute we are dancing round the kitchen cooking dinner, the next we are bickering about whether to use cottage cheese or creme fresh in the pasta sauce. 

I thought living with Adam would be a great idea, because we always had so much fun together on nights out. Little did I know living with Adam would basically be like one enormous constant night out. I don't think I've ever heard the phrase 'do you want a drink?' so often in my life. Those conversations generally go something like this - 'No Adam  I don't want a drink thank you' 'Ok here you go' he says as he hands me a MASSIVE DRINK. He is either trying too turn me into an alcoholic or he's trying to kill me off because I keep shouting at him for waking me up when he comes in from a night out. He also spikes drinks. Pretends he hasn't added anything to them when he definitely has. He even spikes alcoholic drinks. He put vodka in my glass of prosecco once and didn't tell me till I had finished it. He will learn his lesson once he has gotten me so drunk I puke all over him, and by the looks of things that will be happening very soon.

He also has a very weird habit of coming into my bedroom when he gets in pissed. He also tends to do this on a Thursday. The first time he did this, I was pretty reasonable if not a little grouchy. The second time... lets just say I didn't think it would happen again. I think he feared a little bit for his life. Technically there has not been a third time, but there has been a time when he stood outside my door talking very loudly at 1am, then slammed several doors and then decided for some reason to have a SHOWER, and then decided to clean up downstairs while shitfaced and couldn't understand why I was about to BEHEAD HIM.

Despite all of the above, he is one of the kindest, funniest people I know and if I am ever looking for a good laugh, I know Ads will always be the first person I go to.

And finally a little bit about Henry.

Henry and I knew each other in college and weren't particularly fond of each other shall we say. We never actually came to blows, we both just thought the other was a bit of a dick, basically.

Now we get on like a bloomin' house on fire. One of my favorite things to do is get home from work before the others and sit in the living room with Henry and moan about stuff.

Henry is a bit of a stoner which makes for basically the perfect housemate - he's always totally chilled, and he always has biscuits. 

hjuuuuuuyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy./,;;;;; 

Sorry my cat just walked over the keyboard.

There isn't a huge amount more I can tell you about Henry at the moment because we haven't known each other for that long, most of our conversations have basically gone; 'Alright Soph, have you got a filter' 'Yeah' 'Thanks', but my favorite memory of Hen so far is definitely on Friday night when Izzy came home and puked, Henry had to hold her hair back and he was rolling his eyes at what a state she'd gotten herself in. 

I then woke up the next morning to find Henry had also gone out later that evening, come home at 4am and done an enormous vom 5 times the size of Izzys', right next to her's on the garden step. Hilarious.

I don't know how much living in this house is going to help me improve my adulting, but what I do know is it's going to be a great hoot. On a positive note we've been cooking dinner together every night so if nothing else, my diet has improved dramatically and I'm hoping the huge increase in vitamin intake will make up for the huge decrease in liver function.

I'll try and not leave it so long until the next post, but until then Happy adulting peeps x

How Do I Tinder Part 2 - Tinder Tales

So I've been deep in the wonderful world of dating for nearly 2 years now. When I was fresh back into the game, newly released from the stresses of a failing relationship, all I wanted to do was have pretty young men with low IQs buy me drinks and have casual.... Conversations with them. Lots of them. Boys were my religion and tinder was my church. Amen 🙏🏾

These days my dating attitude is more along the lines of marry me, or fuck off. Stop wasting my time man, like I don't want to wait for 3 days for a reply to my text and have stuff popping up on my Facebook news feed about you liking selfies of 15 year olds with their titties out. BORING. It's too stressful, girls don't want to seem too keen, guys wants to be big MEN and pretend that they don't have any feelings, and neither of you want to take yourselves off the market because of the fear there might be someone with bigger knockers or a bigger wang out there waiting to bang you - you can never just bloody ask each other outright if you like each other or if it's just casual, so you date each other with no idea what's actually going on and then you start to feel something and get scared and run away. TOO MUCH STRESS, I find just keeping myself alive hard work enough, I don't need to complicate my life any more, and I'm more than happy on my own with my cat (and my 'special friends') for now, thanks. For that reason tinder is gone, but thankfully for all of you, the colourful memories of my experiences live on.

I already went into a lot of detail about my very worst tinder date, but oh boy, there are many, many more tales for me to tell.

To start - The Model / Actor

Obviously, 'Model / Actor' being the opening line of his profile was very appealing on an incredibly shallow level (but then again generally all aspects of tinder are incredibly shallow). And the professional pictures of him in suits clutching roses (probably used on unpopular dating sights ironically) were enticing. I should have been put off immediately by the weird, awkward conversations we had. In fact I should have just been put off by the 'actor' part of his profile - I learnt that lesson the hard way with my thespian ex boyfriend. But I clung on to the hope he would be this gorgeous model guy who wasn't weird, just a bit quirky, maybe weird in an endearing way. When we met, he saw me from across the road and did this awful wave like an over excited 6 year old girl who'd just seen Micky Mouse at Disney Land, even though he knew full well I had already seen him. When we were at the bar, he kept missing the glass and pouring his strawberry cider all over the table, and instead of being cool about it and casually wiping it up, he dramatically threw his head in his hands and loudly declared how utterly embarrassed he was. Seriously, every time he tried to pour the drink. I swiftly made an excuse to leave, but he insisted on walking me to the bus stop despite my protests that that was ABSOLUTELY not necessary. As we crossed the road to said bus stop, a car came quickly around the corner and he squealed like a 12 year old girl and waved his hands in the air as he dodged out of its way. I asked him jokingly if he was sure he wasn't gay, and he replied with 'No, I'm not gay, and I can think of a way to prove it to you...'. Cringing harder than I thought was possible I answered him simply with 'Please don't'.

 

The Fit Barman.

Awkward when you spend 70% of the date at the bar chatting up the fit Irish barman instead of talking to your date. Couldn't finish my drinks quickly enough! Or buy enough rounds!

 

The 5.30am

There was that one time when I got so smashed I woke up in the guys bed at 5.30am and had to ask him what had happened because I couldn't remember. May sound scary - but oh no not for me. I just thought to myself 'yeahhhhh that sounds like something I would do'. I then proceeded to walk to work in the morning in the same clothes and make up as I was in the night before, still completely smashed, only to find that was the day my line manager and area director had decided to visit the office. That was definitely a low point of my adulating.

 

The Four Beers.

The classy spoons date that ended up with me having to reject a kiss from the guy before I got on the bus because I was too busy trying not to puke all over his shoes. I had four beers over about 5 hours, I am THAT much of a lightweight. I didn't only feel sick, I was actually, physically gagging. My bus turned up and I just ran onto it without even saying goodbye to him because I was so worried I was going to puke in front of / on him.

 

The Sneaky Tug.

This was a guy I saw a good five or six times, I went to his after having dinner with some friends and was a bit shitfaced so just wanted to go to sleep. I pretended to be unconscious while he made his advances because I couldn't be bothered to... well you know. Little did he know I was not actually unconscious and I lay there while he... saw to himself. I left for work in the morning and we never spoke again. Awkwaaaaaaard.

 

The Snapchat

On that subject - I think this was my very first Tinder date - I went out with a guy after work one night in Putney, he turned out to be a pretty nice guy, handsome, intelligent, driven. We had a great night, went to the pub, then for pizza then back to the pub. We talked all night, the conversation never ran dry, and he ended up staying at mine but nothing happened. The perfect gentleman, or so I thought... I got a snapchat the next evening of him.... seeing to himself, which he had captioned 'Thinking about last night'. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY DO YOU DO THAT. Lads, just don't. We literally never want to see that ever. Just DON'T. Unless we ask for it, we don't want to see it. AND WE WILL NEVER ASK FOR IT.

 

Needless to say, dating is hard. For the time being I have given up, other things are taking priority in my life, like food and not smoking (oops I had five cigarettes today). Trying to be a grown up is hard enough with out having to try and figure out what another failing adult wants when you don't even know what you want yourself. Unfortunately I have no advice to offer when it comes to dating, if anyone has any advice FOR me it would be welcomed with open arms!

 

I hope you got a good LOL out of my tragic love life, or at least I made you feel a bit better about your own. It's not all doom and gloom, I have made some great pals and have some good stories for you which I will save for another time. Happy adulating my friends x

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Quitting The Cigs

So, hand in hand with my terrible adulting and general bad decisions, I have been a smoker for two years now and I am quite severely asthmatic. Clever I know. 

In the spirit of improving my adulting, and also not dying, I have decided / I have no choice but to give up smoking.

This is how I feel when I think about actually doing it.

But unfortunately, having my one millionth chest infection since I started smoking those 2 years ago (also who the eff starts smoking at 20 years old?!) and my 4th trip to hospital in that time has left me with little choice. 

This isn't fun 

Neither are these 

Neither is this 

AND NEITHER IS THIS 

No I was not injecting heroin, that's an arterial blood gas test. It's how they get a good indication of your blood oxygen levels. Where they take BLOOD from your WRIST. They have to stab through MUSCLE to get to your ARTERY. I'd rather have 10 asthma attacks than have that done again. OUCHHHHHH.

Apparently, because I'm an irresponsible, ignorant child, it has taken me the 4th trip to hospital to realise that my chest is too weak to keep smoking. The first 3 times I was like 'Meeeeeh no big deal, it's just a shed load of drugs, 8 steroids a day for a week, that's completely normal for a 22 year old. I'll just lay off the cigs for 3 days and then I'll be fine!'. But it's pretty terrifying being 22 years old and just standing up being enough to completely take your breath away.

I've mentioned my backwards logic before.I freak out about the tiniest things, like when I run out of soap or the supermarket is out of my brand of pasta sauce, I'll tell the whole world how angry I am about it and go on about it furiously for days on end - but when massive life altering things happen, I tend to either deal with them really well or do a total ostrich and bury my head in the sand and pretend it's not happening (which kind of makes it look like I'm dealing with it well to everyone else). With the hospital trips I just did the ostrich and convinced myself that because I was still alive it wasn't a big deal, maybe uploaded a light hearted post taking the mick out of myself on Facebook, but actually it's not funny. To get serious and a bit grim for a second, realistically I could have died any of those 4 times. And that's bloody terrifying. So, no more cigs for me. 

AND IM FUCKING FURIOUS ABOUT IT. 

I'm having a complete toddler tantrum. My sister and my dad and a handful of my cousins are also asthmatic, AND THEY CAN ALL SMOKE AND THEY ARE FINE AND THEY ALL HAD WORSE ASTHMA THAN ME. LIFE IS SO UNFAIR AND IM SO ANGRY. But my life's actually quite good and I have really nice friends and family and I don't really want to die. So I have to stop. DAMN YOU WONDERFUL FRIENDS AND FAMILY.

I have no real technique for quitting yet, as the last four days have been smoke free purely because I can barely breathe in oxygen at the moment, never mind tar, but I know as soon as I'm better the first thing I will want to do is chain smoke 20 cigarettes and have a bottle of wine. I am worried I'm going to replace smoking with even more drinking. But I'm going to really try not to, and give it a proper go and bring you all along with me on my journey, maybe help some others in my position. Here's to being a better and healthier adult!

I had planned on doing a ton of blogs while I've been off work about cooking and budgeting on beauty products and bits of that nature but as you can tell, I've been a little preoccupied by finding somewhere to live and not dying. I PROMISE I HAVE ANOTHER TINDER BLOG IN THE PIPELINE, hold tight people.

Thanks for all the well wishes and happy, happy adulting peeps x

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A Bad Guide To House Hunting

So, this time last week, my wonderful friend Izzy came up and packed my life, my cat and my very teary self into her car and brought me back to Mums in East Sussex safe and sound. And, after just one week of homelessness, I've managed to find some housemates and a place to live! Not bad going for a week if you ask me! Here are a few simple steps to find somewhere like I did if you're ever in a similar situation. 

1. Make sure you don't start looking for somewhere new till well after the contract at your previous tenancy has run out and you've had to take two weeks off work to come and live with your mummy. 

2. Make sure you save next to no money and spend it all on beer and takeaways instead. 

3. Make sure you drink three bottles of red wine the night before your viewings and stay up really late so you feel like complete shit and you're exhausted all day.

4. Choose two housemates who are in a relationship so you can be a total third wheel and just chill with your cat for the duration of the new tenancy.

5. Don't mention the fact you have a cat.

6. Make sure not to check the weather on the day of your viewings so you don't bring a coat, get completely drenched and then get a chest infection.

7. Be sure to keep smoking all day even though you know you're getting a chest infection. 

8. Go to loads of properties out of your price range so the ones you can afford look a bit naff in comparison. 

9. Spend loads of money on food in between viewings so you have less for your deposit. 

10. Complain about how tired you are at 5 minute intervals throughout the day to everyone around you and get your new housemates super excited to live with you. 

Yeah.  

All kidding aside though, it was a successful and actually quite fun day and I'm HUGELY relieved I actually have somewhere to live in two weeks time, and have two amaze housemates to make a home with for the next year. The crippling panic and anxiety has eased of at least slightly. Although not completely as until we move to the new place I am stuck in a house where my mums cat and my cat are at actual war. Sweet.

I think yesterday working out is mainly down to luck, as as you can see we were not incredibly organised, we were very hungover and by about 3pm just wanted to give up and go to bed. This is not a good lesson in adulting however I am  walking proof everything tends to just work out in the end! THANK GOD.

So here I sit with a rank chest infection, tea, toast and lemsip up to my eye balls and still in my PJs at 5pm. Adulting at its finest I'm sure you will agree. And I don't even have my mummy to look after me because she buggered off to Ireland as soon as she heard I was coming home for two weeks. Cheers Ma. If anyone wants to come take care of me that would be FAB THANKS.

Happy adulting bitches x

How To Deal With Being A Nervous Wreck

^^^^ ME^^^^

I am an incredibly, incredibly anxious person. I'm basically the personification of Courage the Cowardly Dog. If you don't experience anxiety, or even know what it is, the best way I can describe it is it's the same feeling you get when someone tells you really bad news, and I don't mean 'there's no chocolate left', I mean like 'Your parents have just been eaten by snakes' kind of bad news. That weird sensation when your heart skips 3 beats and it feels like your stomach has fallen out of your arse. Kind of like you're going to projectile vomit and have a heart attack simultaneously. Well I basically live my life like this. I know, I know, I'm a total catch, form a queue fellas. Not being able to decide what to have for lunch makes me anxious, when my cat isn't home by 10pm I am completely convinced she's been eaten by foxes, I'm scared of flying, I'm scared of lifts, I am always terrified that when I'm going up stairs I'm going to trip and break my face open. Experiencing anxiety when you're going through a transition in your life, like a break up or a move or a new job is completely normal - experiencing anxiety when everything is going really well and you're just anxious about what is going to go wrong next is basically mental. So I'm going to work on this and maybe help other people who are nervous wrecks like me get over it too.

Don't get me wrong here - I'm generally a pretty chirpy person, like I'm not medicated for my anxiety, I'm not depressed and there are definitely people who experience much higher levels of anxiety than me! But it's a pretty shitty way to live your life when you just worry about everything all the time. A life lived in fear is a life half lived after all. And actually, at the moment I think my anxiety levels are pretty justified. I mean I'm pretty much at my peak of shitty adulting. I'm moving out of the house I've lived in for three years at the weekend, I (still) haven't started packing yet, I have nowhere to live and no savings for a deposit so I've had to take two weeks off work to live with my Mummy, I have to find a flat under £800000 per month that will let me keep my cat and is near a station that isn't inhabited by arse holes, and to top it all off I've just had super noodles for dinner. Plus I've paid about a billion pounds of bills this month, AND one of my closest friends at work left today. Sob :(

So I usually deal with anxiety with three things - WINE, CAKE, and TOBACCO.

Drinking through the anxiety seems like the easiest and best solution to me. And to be honest it totally works in the short term. I tend to drink till I cant feel any emotion, be it anxiety or shame. And I eat all my feelings - happiness, sadness, excitement, hunger, tiredness as well as anxiety. Smoking is a bad idea in general and doesn't help anything especially not anxiety, but I like it so whatevs. Smoking weed probably does actually help, but I cant afford that shit.

Unfortunately all my coping mechanisms are flawed. Drinking makes you hungover, and being hungover makes you anxious. This is because of all the weird chemical and biological imbalances going on in your body and your brain, and your system trying to get it all back to normal. And the drinking it's self can also go one of two ways - it is a mood enhancer after all, I mean, if you have a couple of drinks and put on some cheery tunes and have a little anti anxiety party in your room, you'll probably feel a bit better and numb that nagging knot in your stomach for a few hours. BUT you could also end up in a blubbering ball of snot and tears, calling all your friends asking why they don't love you and texting your ex boyfriends that you don't care they're engaged and have kids, you want them back. It's a risky game in its self and the end result is always the hangover anyway. For this reason I would not recommend drinking as a coping mechanism. (says the chick with the 650ml Heineken in hand - preach)

And yes, eating a chocolate bar or a big fricking bowl of ice-cream, or three cheese toasties is going to release some delightful endorphins in your brain and make you feel AWESOME for an hour or two. But then you get the sugar crash, the feeling that you have furry teeth and you need to shower because you're getting the cheese sweats, and eventually you'll also get cellulite too and that shit makes no one happy. 

So here are some ways to cope better than I do when you're feeling a bit nervous or anxious. Healthy food is going to make you feel way better than that cake. Get some greens and some fruit in that face. Make a fruit smoothie, and eat an avocado with a spoon and pretend its ice-cream. You'll still get the endorphin release, but it will last longer, and you wont feel shit afterwards, you'll feel clean and healthy and full of energy.

Distract yourself - not with wine. Organise a day out with your besties (NO BOOZE), read a book, go for a walk, call your mum, pamper yourself a bit. You will have to face up to whatever is making you anxious at some point, but distracting yourself for a couple hours doing something nice and relaxing and fun can only help. Plus when you've removed yourself from the unresolvable pit of doom you'd gotten yourself into by completely over-thinking everything, when you go back to the problem later it doesn't seem so bad.  

Do some exercise. I personally hate exercise, but I've heard it helps. Plus if it is something you do enjoy, it first of all counts a distraction and secondly it releases more of those lovely endorphins. And although you get a burst of adrenaline and energy straight afterwards and you're wide awake, after a couple hours you'll probably feel pretty exhausted and slip straight into a lovely deep sleep. Feeling anxious can keep your brain moving at a million miles an hour and make it pretty difficult to switch off and go to sleep.

Some things I plan on experimenting with to control my anxiety (and also my general out-of-control levels of anger) are yoga and meditation. If I'm being honest, I think its complete bullshit, but people who I respect and trust (who aren't total hippies for the record) have recommended it to me and said it would help. So I'll write a couple of posts on my experiences and although I'm definitely a skeptic now, who knows, maybe I'll rediscover myself! Stay tuned peeps.

Oh and if anyone in London knows of anywhere I could live that would be GREAAAAAAT.

Happy adulting x

10 Of The Worst Things About Adulting

Hello friends, back on topic after last weeks feminism rant I thought I would share with you 10 of my pet peeves about adulting...

10. Cooking

So I think I might have mentioned previously I love food. When I moved to London 4 years ago the most technical thing I could make was a cheese toastie (big up Auntie Brid for the toastie maker). After a solid two years of McDonald's, Gregs and microwave meals, I have actually started to cook things myself from scratch. And actually, it's pretty fun and gives you a massive sense of satisfaction and achievement. However, when you start it's really quite daunting. Like, looking up a recipe online is enough to put you off. Why the fuck do I need 700 ingredients to make a pasta bake. Why do I need to buy more tools than it would take to fix a car when all I want is to bake a sodding cake. And also, I don't know about anyone else but when I get home from work I don't want to spend an hour making  some elaborate feast, I want to put pajamas on and eat ice cream and drink wine in bed. WHERE DO YOU FIND THE TIME??? Take aways, fast food and ready meals are too tempting, and I am extremely lucky I am not 50 stone. Actually looking over my diet I'm pretty lucky I'm still alive. Take tonight's dinner for example...

Yum.

9. Cleaning

I'm going to be very real here. I clean my room probably once every three months. For real. I only do a load of washing when I have completely run out of clean pants and have worn at least two pairs inside out. I have fallen out on some level with pretty much every person I've ever lived with because whenever the communal areas get too dirty to inhabit I just stop using them and pretend those rooms don't exist. I HATE cleaning. But on the flip side of that when it comes to things I eat off and drink from I am a germ FREAK. I have to stearalise mugs before I make a cup of tea. I wash every utensil and piece of cutlery twice before I use it (and then leave it for a week and a half after I've finished with it before cleaning it again) My main motivation to progress in my career is to earn enough money  to pay someone else to clean my house. High five to all the housewives out there - you deserve a fucking Nobel Prize. Aaaaaaand this post has just ruined any small chance I had left of ever getting married. Sweet!

8.Having to make your own decisions.

I have made pretty much exclusively bad decisions since I have been living independently.

'Don't get a cat, you can barely look after yourself' everyone said. FUCK YOU I WILL DO WHAT I WANT. And now I'm £50 poorer a month and I cant find anywhere to live because nowhere in London allows pets. Nice one me. 

Every time I go out on a week day and have to sneak to the toilet at work to puke up my McDonalds breakfast the next day I swear I'll never do it again. Then the week after I'm all like - Oopsie its 2am on Tuesday and I'm still in Be @ 1 with three cocktails a beer and a shot of Jaegermeister. I don't have the adult function in my brain. I think I will live the rest of my life like an unchaperoned child.

7. Working

You will never be able to pay me enough to get out of bed at 7am. The only reason I work is because benefits wouldn't cover my fags and alcohol habit. 

6. Commuting to work

If there was ever an argument for contraception it is public transport in London. There is ALWAYS a screaming child on my bus. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN CRYING ABOUT - YOU'RE NOT THE ONE ON YOUR WAY TO WORK, YOU'RE PROBABLY ON YOUR WAY TO EAT A DELICIOUS ASPARAGUS PUREE THEN SHIT YOUR PANTS AND HAVE A NAP. I think my anger towards children mainly steams from pure jealousy. And if its not a screaming child, its a stinky homeless person or a half naked lunatic. And don't ask me why because my commuting face is far from friendly, but I attract ALL OF THEM like a sodding magnet.  

5. Managing your own bedtime.

I have spent the last 4 years of my life tired. Every night I say I'm getting an early night. And every night I am up till 1 am watching YouTube videos and cat vines. Is this something I can sue Apple for because I'm pretty sure I didn't do this before they equipped  me with an Iphone?

4. Managing your own money.

Like what the actual fuck am I going to work for when I spend half of it on rent for the shoe box bedroom I'm living in in the house I share with 20 other people, and the rest goes on electricity bills and toilet roll. I haven't shopped in like 3 months. Actually that's a lie, I shopped last month but this is another good reason that I shouldn't be ALLOWED to manage my own money - I made it to the last week of the month with £300 (which is a genuine first in 4 years) and instead of putting that money towards the deposit for the imminent move I have coming up, I spent it all on Topshop clothes and a pub lunch. Worth it!

3. House Sharing

Working in the property market has brought me to the very depressing realisation I will NEVER be a homeowner. Unless I win the lottery or have some really rich relatives I don't know about, I literally have no hope. And I also have no hope of affording to rent a one bedroom flat in London. Not even a fucking studio flat. Average price is genuinely over a grand a month in this city. BEFORE BILLS. So that means I will be house sharing until I'm 40. And that means I will have people complaining about my dirty dishes for the next 18 years. Moaning at me for being too loud. Chasing people 5 times before the transfer me the money for the God damn council tax. Having explosive, screaming arguments with people about crumbs on the counter in the kitchen and then not speaking to them for 3 months and having to avoid whichever room they're using until they're finished. Landlords who are unreasonable CRIMINALS like mine now.

2. Dating

Dating is just a constant roller-coaster of disappointment and anxiety to me. I meet someone who's creepy and weird - disappointment. I meet someone I like - anxiety. Why haven't you text me for a WHOLE HOUR. YOU LIKED SOMEONE ELSE'S SELFIE ON INSTAGRAM. I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS A BOY YOU CAN ONLY LIKE MY SELFIES. It's emotionally stressful and also time consuming and it's bloody expensive. Why do we have to go to some fancy cocktail bar, cant we get a 4 pack of fosters each and sit in a park??

1.The realisation this is what it will be like forever and you have to get the hang of all this shit on your own.

I just want someone to tell me how to do it all. Please. MUMMY.

I'm getting there. Slowly. Kind of. Let me know what you hate most about adulting, because misery loves company. Now I'm off to drink some wine and watch pointless videos on YouTube and forget that I'm moving out of my house at the weekend and I have nowhere to live and I haven't started packing yet.

Happy Adulting x

Feminism For Dummies

Ok, so this post is very slightly off the blogs topic, but its in my brain and I need to get it out. ..

In the last year or so my interests have slightly broadened to more than TOWIE and McDonalds, I've learned some stuff about politics and that, how the country works, and for years now I've been pretty passionate about the Gay Rights and Feminist debates. Recent events, both personal and international have caught my attention regarding the feminism debate in particular, and sadly it seems there are still some stupid knobs out there that need to be majorly educated on what Feminism actually is.

There seems to be a lot of shame surrounding the word feminism. It seems to conjure up an image of a middle aged, man hating, fat lesbian in an RE teachers jumper and baggy ill fitting trousers with a spiky haircut. This first of all (LOL) is not the case. Although I'm sure there are actually feminists who do look like that, and a lot of gay women will be feminists too, feminists do not hate men. I'm a feminist and I fucking LOVE men. Yum yum. Give me ALL of the men. What we do hate is that we cant wear a short skirt without society telling us we look like a slut, or we are 'asking to be raped'. We cant do what we want with our bodies, have sex with the people we want to - like a man can - if we are not in a long term relationship without being called easy. Which I have NEVER understood, because guys, you clearly love sex and can have as much of it as you wan't and get high fived - if there weren't like minded chicks out there who were happy to have (safe consensual) casual sex, who would you be getting it from? Either stop being promiscuous yourselves, or pipe down with the slut shaming or you aint getting ANY BITCH! We can't be a plumber or a mechanic without people raising eyebrows because they are 'men's professions'. I will explain it simply for those mentally challenged people out there who just don't seem to understand - we just want to have the choice to do all the same things that men can do. We don't think we are better than men. We don't hate men. Some of us even wan't to be that perfect housewife with a man who goes out to work while we look after the kids and the house, we just want to know there are other options out there if we wanted them. ITS SO BLOODY SIMPLE, MY GOD.

The #IAmNotAFeminist hash tag that recently went around on social media both makes me lol and makes me very, very sad. It was an idea that started because some dumb girl came to the conclusion that people who claim feminism is about equality (WHICH IT IS) are wrong because it doesn't recognize the struggles men have to deal with, like getting raped in prison and not winning custody of their children in divorces - which are obviously big issues that absolutely need to be addressed... BUT LET ME EXPLAIN SOME SHIT TO YOU HONEY. The feminist movement was started in a time women were not allowed to vote, when they weren't allowed to work, when they weren't allowed to be a homeowner, when it was completely LEGAL for your husband to RAPE you. Lets hear you say you're not a feminist when all that gets taken away from you. People actually died for your rights to do those things, you bloody ignorant CRETIN. It is called FEMinism because it was a movement that started about the equality of WOMEN in a time when there was absolutely NONE. We were basically like our husbands pet dog.

We have won a hell of a lot of the battles and I feel totally privileged to live in a time I am allowed to do all of those things as a woman because of someone elses' hard work and sacrifice. We still have a long way to go, however times have changed hugely, and now we have so many of the same rights as men feminists are largely willing to acknowledge inequalities men have and fight for those too. However a man doing the same job as a woman in a lot of industries will still get paid more, and 'slut shaming' still exists. Until there is complete equality in areas such as these, and many more, there is still a reason for feminism to exist. I absolutely, completely 100% wholeheartedly agree that the issues to do with mens inequality need to be addressed and made more widely known and combated once and for all, but essentially, it is actually a different battle - and maybe give that battle a name, I don't know, but don't hate on feminists just because it WAS given a bloody name. And actually, thinking about it, I'm pretty sure that discriminatibg a man because of his gender is still sexism, so it ALREADY has a name. Pipe down. 

These people fight for equality overall these days, as womens struggle in society has, thankfully, decreased so much. I can be pretty sure if they feel that passionately about womens rights, they will feel the same about human rights in general, and every bracket that falls under that.

I feel like a lot of women are scared to admit they are a feminist, or aren't even AWARE that they are a feminist because of the man hating, fat lesbien stereotype. That stereotype needs to get the eeeeeeeeeeff out, and we all need to embrace the word, guys and girls. I mean if you're a boy and you're not a total c-bomb and you're not from the 1950's, I hate to break it to you but you're probably a feminist too mate. And girls, don't be afraid of it because you're scared saying you support feminism will scare a guy off - I mean lad's, dating a feminist is pretty awesome. They'll probably pretty sexually secure (and will fuck a lot). They're most likely pretty intelligent and educated. They're probably compassionate, passionate, with a free spirit. They will probably want to pay for dinner. And for those reasons they're probably pretty fun too. I mean, I'd date me...

And yes, they probably can still cook and clean and make you a sandwich too, they might just expect you to return the fucking favour sometimes. That's literally it. That's it. Not so awful is it. JESUS.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I feel so good now that's out of my brain and onto my laptop screen. There is more to come on this topic, but I shan't bore you with it now. I'm sure you political people can pick plenty of holes in my argument, but please save your energy and my time, and kindly fuck off. Thank you ever so much in advance.

I make writing this post about 5 billion adult points for me, so I will spend the rest of the week eating microwave meals, watching reality TV, not opening my post and burying my head in the sand when it comes to grown up things, because I've earned it. No more adulting this week. I'm exhausted.

YOU guys carry on though, you're doing a smashing job. Happy adulting x



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How Do I Tinder - Part One

I will start by apologizing to any family members reading this (except Aisling, you fucking love it) and also any family friends. Not that any of you are under the impression I'm any kind of perfect angel, (HAHAHA) but I doubt you will want to read about my various experiences with trashy Tinder men. In fact, just stop reading now. Thanks.

So. By now I think I should be some kind of Tinder expert, I think I could probably write a dissertation on it. Yet after a year and a half of vigorous tindering I am apparently yet to master the art, as alas, I sit here alone with a beer, a fag and my cat. I'm basically Bridget Jones, just 10 years younger. Cheers!

After an extremely bizarre final Tinder date (which I am sure I will write about another time), I have actually taken the plunge and shakily and hesitantly deleted the app. I am in recovery, three weeks Tinder free. There have been ups and downs, nights when I've been left alone unsupervised and nearly relapsed. But here I am, and though at one time I couldn't imagine life without my sweet sweet daily fix, I feel so much better, I feel healthy, I feel free.

Anyone who knows me and wasn't aware of that, I know, I know, it's utterly shocking and you never thought you'd see the day. Close your mouth.  The original idea for my blog was actually going to be about my 'colourful' Tinder experiences, however I swiftly decided against this because I realised nobody would date me if they knew I would write a blog about them for everyone to laugh at afterwards. And that would also mean the skeletons of my dating closet would be out for the whole world to see, when they belong firmly padlocked in that closet. Forever. Like Hozier says, future husband, you shouldn't care none about what my hands and my body's done. PREACH HOIZY!

So, I will fill you in with but a few of my most colourful Tinder experiences, for now I'll condense it to the best and the worst...

Naturally I'll start with the worst. DISCLAIMER - I am not being a total bitch here, this dude does not have me on Facebook and will never read this, so I can be as brutal as I want, and besides I'm pretty sure the feeling was more than mutual. We will call him... Tom. Tom's profile was quite artsy and intriguing, a lot of black and white photos and tartan scarves etc, he definitely caught my eye. He had this strong bone structure and serious look constantly on his face in all his pictures. He wore specs, the kind of geeky specks that pretentious dicks in Camden (who I totally get wet for by the way) have made sexy. They were round with tortoiseshell boarders. He had black floppy hair, and this look in his eye that said one of two things - either 'I am looking into your soul right now, reading you like a book while simultaneously undressing you' or 'I'm a fucking serial killer, run'. I think I've made him sound pretty hot, but I do have to admit he had the kind of face that personality was going to determine which way it went. He was either going to be unbelievably sexy or be a creepy pedophile. Think Ryan Gosling... Kind of fucked up looking but has the potential to be (and in his case is) SO HAWT. You get what I mean now? Yeahhhh... So we started chatting and much to my joy he turned out to be a writer, a photographer and an artist. That level of pretension is more than enough to get me going, like seriously get this girl a mop and bucket. And he had this way of writing messages that made me feel like I was a character in a 50's romance novel, talking to a mysterious, hopeless, sexy, failing artist who was subtly pursuing me. I was utterly convinced he was going to be my Ryan Gosling. 

He asked me to meet him under the London Eye after work one Monday, and who could say no to something that romantic right! So there I was sitting on a bench underneath the London Eye, looking out over the Thames planning our wedding (hahaha kiddinnnnnng), and I see a figure out of the corner of my eye. 'Thophia', a voice says. I look up. I see a rather boney, approximately 5'5 man in a an extremely posh suit, wearing leather gloves and carrying a briefcase and one of those expensive black business mans umbrellas. He didn't just write like he was from the 50's, he looked like he actually WAS from the 50's. And no, 'Thophia' was not a typo, he had a pretty serious lisp too. I just wanted to say 'No. No I am not Sophia... Good day Sir!' and get up and RUN. And don't get me wrong here, (as much as it sounds like it) this was NOT just about how he looked. He had this extremely bizarre way about him, he was standing in front of me with one arm outstretched for me to take his hand, and the other folded behind his back. Like, what? What the fuck? Why are you doing that.
I gave him as big a smile as I could muster because I didn't want to be rude, and got up to give him an extremely awkward kiss on the cheek. He awkwardly walked me to the very expensive OXO tower where he had booked us a table and then he probably spent about £40 on two cocktails. I will not go into too much detail about the date, other than I literally cringed for the entire hour, I couldn't stop fidgeting, and I don't think I made eye contact with him once, we kept misunderstanding each-others humor and then sitting in silence, and it was just HORRIBLE. I am probably the least awkward person in the world - like I could make conversation with a fish, and any other bad date I've been on where I knew there was no chemistry, I've managed to see it out and make decent conversation and generally quite enjoyed it, even though there's that tinge of disappointment that I'm not getting a shag. (Sorry Mum)
This was next level. I've never been so polar oppositely different to anyone in my life, or felt such a strong longing to leave anywhere, ever. I would rather be stuck in a lift with a human sized turd than live through that date again. And just when I thought I had managed to escape, he insisted on walking me 20 minutes back to the station, (I'm sure just to be a gentleman as there was no way he was enjoying himself) and we filled this time arguing about whether Southwark station was linked to Waterloo East station. Needless to say, we said a horribly awkward goodbye, and we never spoke again. Except for when I sent him a picture of the Jubilee line tube map to prove that Southwark IS in fact linked to Waterloo East station. He was a nice man and utterly harmless and really quite sweet - but so not for me, and I was so not for him either. I think he thought I was mildly retarded.

Sooooo that story went on for a lot longer than I anticipated, so lets call this part one of my colourful Tinder experiences, I'll give you a positive experience for next time.

Dating is hard, but never give up hope - do however give up Tinder. There is no hope on Tinder, it just eats your soul. And also, you get messages like this.

No, I didn't find that message on the internet, that was genuinely sent to me.

Happy dating peeps, and happy adulting x 

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Sexy Pittas

So as it is the last week before payday - I am obviously broke. Broke to the point I had to withdraw the last bit of money left in my account so my phone bill doesn't come out and leave me foodless. So no more pret for lunch this week. Instead I did a little ASDA haul and have been putting together my own delicious lunches. 

The preparation element of making lunches to take to work is the main thing that puts me off because well - I'm really fucking lazy. So instead what I did was take all the bits to work and assemble it at lunch time. That gives me more time in the evenings to watch youtube videos and write stupid blogs 👍🏻

So for lunches this week I will be having pitta breads with various meat and salad fillings - all you need is:

-Wholemeal Pittas - £50p

-Salad of your choice, I chose...

Packet of 6 tomatoes - 80p

RIPE Avocado. It's like fucking Russian roulette you never actually know if its ripe until its too late and you've cut the bastard open - £1

Bag of lettuce - £1

Half cucumber - 30p

-Cheese, I went for the cheap £1 brie. Winning

-MEAT - I splashed out on half a rotisserie chicken which was £3 and it lasted two days, but you can get ham for like a quid.

-French salad dressing £1 - MUCH better than mayo or salad cream, trust

If you have an apetite like mine these need to be pretty frigging hearty or you're just going to be starving, so thats why I got quite a lot of fillings, but you can do this for much cheaper than I did. But I'm a pig, so everything on my list was obviously completely necessary. 

So that's a week's worth of lunches for just over £8. That's what I normally spend daily! And God damn, these are gooooooood. I hate bland food, and this is not bland - its the french dressing that really takes it from a 6 to a 10. Plus it's filling, and its healthy. Except the brie but whatevs, cheese is my religion, it's worth the clogged arteries. 

Another amazing and super cheap work lunch idea is pasta. A lot of people don't seem to be aware of this, but you can cook pasta in a microwave. Put the pasta in a bowl, cover it in boiling water from the kettle and stick it in the MW for 10-12 mins, drain, pop the sauce of your choice on top, stir and pop back in the microwave for 30 seconds to a minute. BOOM. A big bag of pasta in ASDA is 99p, and I resent spending more than a quid on pasta sauce. That will last at least 3 meals, more if you have smaller portions than me, so that's at least 3 days worth of lunches for 2 fricking quid. Genius. 

This week I've cleaned my room and made my own lunch for 3 days in a row  - I make that about a million adult points for me. High five! Unfortunately I probably need some adult points deducted for hitting a solid 7 on the hangover scale today. We had work do last night and I took full advantage of the free wine, thinking I was being really super well behaved and grown up I only had one in the pub afterwards and came straight home. I then wondered at 11pm why I was throwing up my super noodles after my super grown up behavior and failed to remember I polished off at least 6 glasses of free wine before the pub. Oopsie. Cathy if you're reading this you can't be cross because I came to work and don't pretend you knew I was hungover because you totally did not. (Cathy's my boss hehe)

Let me know your super ideas for work lunches, because I always need foodspiration, now I'm off to enjoy my hair of the dog and watch TOWIE. #Life

Happy adulting x

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How Do I Hangover

Because life is generally a bigger bitch than Regina George, it seems all the best things in this world eventually have a detrimental effect on you. Sadly, there really is too much of a good thing, I mean...

Food makes you fat

Sex gets you pregnant

The sun burns your skin

Shopping makes you poor

Too much sleep makes you even more tired (which I never have and never will understand)

And finally, alcohol makes you hungover

I mainly cope with my miserable failure at being a grown up in two ways  - eating my feelings, and drinking until I forget my problems. And one of the greatest pleasures of adult life is a big, fat fucking drink. A freezing cold, bitter, crisp gin and tonic with freshly squeezed tangy lime on a boiling hot summers day, a glass of full flavored, delicious red wine with your roast beef, a fucking Jager bomb on a night out because you need to get shitfaced quicker, whatever the occasion, alcohol is wonderful. It calms people down on stressful days, it gives people the confidence they need to talk to that cute guy or girl, it helps the less attractive get laid. But of course with that wonder comes the hangover.

Today is Sunday, which by association means I am hungover. Generally my hangovers either involve a lot of puking, or a lot of 'whyyyyyyyy, WHYYYYY DID I DO THAT' *burys head in hands*. I think I've experienced pretty much every type of hangover there is, so I thought I would share with you my findings on how best to deal with each different type of hangover.

The Still Pissed Hangover

If you wake up still drunk, you're probably going to be feeling pretty fucking good. You will still be able to laugh about the fact you kissed your ex boyfriends best mate, and you puked up your McDonald's in the hallway on your way in. The world will still be a beautiful, wobbly, wonderful place. Embrace this time, as you are a mere few hours away from feeling like you're going to DIE. If you drank enough to still feel drunk in the morning, you're in for one hellllllllll of a hangover. My advice would be maximize your damage control in this still drunk time. Down water. Down all the water you can get your hands on, put your head underneath the tap if it saves time. Get some food in you to soak up whatever is left in your system, and DO NOT GO BACK TO SLEEP. You will wake up feeling a bajillion times worse. You need to ride this shit out, and besides there is not time to sleep because you will be too busy drinking water. Re hydrate like a MF or its going to feel like your brain is going to fall out of your nose every time you move later.

The Vomit Apocalypse Hangover

This is unfortunately my most frequent hangover. I literally have no advice for this hangover. All you want to do is die, and it kind of feels like you are going to. Again get that water in you, as even though you will throw it back up pretty much immediately, it dilutes the stomach bile taste. Yummy, I know. Also, whatever you do, do not take painkillers until you know you're done with the vomming. This piece of advice comes from personal experience, throwing up half digested paracetamol tastes like chewing on a battery. Also, stay well, well away from any food or drink you like. Having chocolate milk in reverse is kind of off putting, like off putting for life. It came out of my nose. And finally, if you throw up more than like 10 times, you probably have alcohol poisoning and should go to Hospital or something.

The 'My Head is Going To Explode' Hangover

Waking up with a killer head ache is the worst. Pop some pills, down that water and stay still in a dark room until you stop feeling like someone is inside your head, trying to smash their way out with a hammer. Once the pain has dimmed down enough for you to move, have something to eat, it helps. Once that headache is gone and you're re hydrated you're over the worst. Unfortunately for me, this kind of hangover also makes me puke. Yay.

The 'I Need To Eat Everything Immediately Hangover'

Just do it. Eat it all. Order a Dominoes, and when the person at the end of the phone asks what you want, say 'Everything'. You'll want something savory, all of the crisps and the cheese and the carbs, and then the next second you'll want ice cream and chocolate and Haribo and all the sweets. It's OK, just do it. You can go for a run tomorrow. And it is also completely acceptable to have two take aways in one day when you feel like this. I have to say though, even though all you want is bacon and grease and carbs and junk, and it will feel amazing when you're shoving it all in your face, some veg would actually make you feel way better way quicker. Maybe throw something green into the mix when you're done with that KFC.

The 'I've Embarrassed Myself So Badly, I Need To Move To China' Hangover

I have been there. If you are reading this and you knew me in college, or anytime of my life since the age of about 15 actually, my God, you know I have been there. More times than I care to, or in some cases can remember. It happens. We all pee in phone boxes when we are too drunk to try and figure out where the nearest toilet is. We all snog wrong-ens when we have our beer goggles on. Sometimes people even wake up next to said wrong-ens. Not me though, I've definitely never done that, Mum. Promise. No matter how bad it seems, people will eventually forget, and life will go on. I am speaking so much from experience here! Sadly for me that means anyone who's reading this that knows me, will now be re-living and probably leaving comments about all the things I've done. Cheers guys. 

The 'Oh I Don't Actually Feel That Bad' Hangover

Never happened to me. Fuck you people.

My body is completely intolerant to alcohol, in that I'll be drunk after two drinks (which earned me the catchy nickname 2 beers Bailey in college) and my hangover will always be utterly retched. I never learn though, just last night I had a little party for one before I went to meet my friends which involved 90s gangster rap and a bottle of prosecco, which I'm sure is to blame for the state in now. It seems no one ever learns, which is again solid evidence that alcohol is fucking great. People universally agree its worth the suffering. 

I would like to end with some wise words from Big Bailey - my sister Petra. She once said to me that you wake up the morning after a night out, and two things will cross your mind..

'Thank God I'm alive' and 'Thank God I'm alone'

And hey, one out of two ain't bad.

Happy adulting x

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