Category Archives: Pointless Asides

How Doris Was Found:

I adore The Bloggess, she is without a doubt one of my favourite bloggers, ever since a friend of mine slid into a Facebook status update and said, “you should read Jenny Lawson’s book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened because she is basically you” and I thought well, if someone is basically going to be me, I will undoubtedly love her! So I was happy when I received her book alongside Caitlin Moran’s How to Be a Woman on Valentine’s Day as a special gift from myself to myself, because at the time I was the only person who really loved me (except my sister, who got me a cocktail glass and some socks with pugs on them, which really is the epitome of both my personality and true love).

Anyways, after I finished reading the book with a sense of emptiness and sadness that would ensue for a life time, until I forgot about the details of the book and picked it up again to read it anew, I decided I would Google her and LOW AND BEHOLD she had a blog. I’m not really sure who I thought she was at first, I thought she was just a random woman who had decided to write a biography, which I thought was an amazing idea and would encourage you all to do the same (which I am also doing in my Mad About the Brain: My Journey From There to Here posts! I guess it would be more fun to actually make a book and for people to want to buy that book and also to make money off that book, but I think it’s fun and one day I will rule the world, so what’s a bit of free work for ya’ll to consume?!) So I spent an indeterminate amount of time (meaning I am too embarrassed to admit how long I slouched over my laptop reading her blog) reading Jenny’s posts and developed a not entirely appropriate lady crush on her, her writing style and evident talent.

Some of my favourite posts included searches people had done to find her blog and some of the words typed into search engines were hilarious, as were her attached notes. I sometimes update Twitter on the fact that people from particular countries sometimes read, especially when it’s new and I get excited and I sometimes tell them about how people found my blog, but, inspired by Jenny, I’ve decided to write a blog about some of the search results that have led people to my blog lately, because I find them all strange, amazing and hilariously worrying. Here we go:

  • Eminem Sex Fantasy – which makes sense because I wrote about one of his songs a while ago.
  • There is nothing painful done someone you love telling you she daze love you anymore – which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but I do feel very sorry for the person who feels so sad that he/she typed (admittedly, rather incoherently) about painful feels. I am sorry internet human, they probably weren’t worth it! You rock!
  • The Male Chastity Lifestyle Goals Checklist – which I had to Google, because I have absolutely no idea what that is. I also had to go through many pages of male chastity websites to find my blog, but it was indeed up there. I still don’t know what a male chastity lifestyle goals checklist is, so if anyone is reading this and does know, holla at your girl, because she’s none the wiser.

These ones aren’t particularly hilarious and I understand that, given the content of my blog, that there will be some people searching for things and ending up very angry that they haven’t found what they’ve been looking for. But, I am also very happy that it is bringing visitors to my site that I am not harassing via social media, so I guess everyone’s a winner, right?

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Life Lessons That Only 80s Movies Can Teach a Person:

If you were born anywhere beyond 1983, you really weren’t an eighties child. You were too young to truly understand just how awesome a generation of people who believed we would be flying around on hover boards by 2015, one space ship ride away from a weekend of passion with an alien who owns three tits on Mars. Growing up in the 1990s was probably the worst time to grow up; everyone was a little pissed off that the 1980s stopped so abruptly and music got decidedly worse, the only exception being The Spice Girls, of course. Even today, you will still find an abundance of people wistful for the 1980s, which is why movies from that generation are so damned popular, even now. I was born at the very end of the 1980s, with only two tender years of being alive during an awesome decade, so I think I feel it more than a lot of people, thus take perpetual comfort in sticking on a film from the decade and grinning like a lunatic until the credits roll.

Eighties movies capture everything that was truly awesome about the decade. I mean, at least the ‘truly awesome’ parts that I, as someone who wasn’t old enough to actually understand the society and culture then, therefore can only assume were the best parts. It might have been crap, but think about it Back to the Future, ET, The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Weird Science, My Step Mother’s an Alien… all of these amazing movies that allow us snippets into how awesome life in the eighties really was and how logic, science and the impossible were all made true to life and genuinely possible for normal people. It was a magical time, way better than any Disney movie can boast. And it taught us so many important life lessons regarding how we should be living our lives as adults born a little too late in the decade to learn any real and tangible lessons about being an adult. And, after all, living one’s life through a series of potentially thirty year old movies is a wise and mature decision, no matter who you are, so remember that.

One of my main childhood crushes in life has been constant: Andrew McCarthy. Just saying his name causes over dramatic, romantic sighs to escape from my lungs; he was a true romantic hero and I owe a lot of important life lessons from the Mannequin and Pretty in Pink actor. The Polonius from Macbeth line: to thine own self, be true can encapsulate the characters McCarthy plays quite well and I guess that this could be one of the life lessons I should take from these movies, but I’m not going to. I’m going to take something else, whilst explaining how he always stays true to himself. I mean, think about it… How many men do you know that would fall in love with an ancient Egyptian princess trapped in a mannequin, only coming to life in private, when no one else is watching and not feel an ounce of shame by being caught in incredibly compromising positions by passers by/shoppers/your boss?

Like he didn’t even explain himself at all; during one scene, they were found after a night of passionate love making (as passionate as a mannequin can be, I imagine, but she did end up playing Samantha Jones, perhaps the horniest woman to ever grace New York City), people were gathered around him as he lay in her embrace wondering “Holy crap! Did he have sex with that mannequin? In a tent? In the middle of this department store?” and that was it, just dignified, silent concern for their fellow human being. Although his reaction was slightly different: mischevious grin, quick exit, total nonchalance and no sign of an emotional breakdown at finding himself in these constantly awkward situations.

Pretty in Pink, of course, saw our romantic hero fall in love with a girl way below his social ranking in life, played by the one and only Molly Ringwald, 80s queen. She was a girl who spent the majority of her time looking after her adorably alcoholic dad (it’s not a danger to her health or her mental well-being looking after an unemployed parent in the 80s. it’s a bonding experience and totally cool!) and a girl who made amazingly fashionable clothes from hand me downs and cast offs and who spent a lot of time hanging around with Jon Cryer, back when he was at his most adorable (like, part of me is totally annoyed at Ringwald for not falling in love with Ducky after his AMAZING Try A Little Tenderness routine. Like, even now, when watching old episodes of Two and a Half Men, I still look at Alan when he was younger and remember seeing him as a youngster, thrusting in the air along to the dulcet tones of Otis Redding and my innards do a little pang. Yes, I know and no, I’m not ashamed); Andrew McCarthy saw past all of that, saw past his supposed best friend’s, James Spader’s dickish comments about social class and Molly being only good for one thing and he fell for her like any 80s romantic hero should, because she was the 80s queen and he knew it. The important life lesson here is that Love Conquers All, alcohol addictions are a father daughter bonding experience and that James Spader deserved to have his party ruined.

From Back to the Future, I learned a lot about friendship and that it comes in all shapes and sizes and even moments in time, and that being a young teenaged boy who befriends a cooky older man everyone thinks is weird will not result in molestation or Stockholm Syndrome: It will result in TIME TRAVEL. I think this is partly why I tend to gravitate towards the older generations, in the hopes that one day, when I’m having an extensive conversation with an old man on the bus, that he will lean into me and whisper I have a time machine. And I will believe him and travel through time with him.

Back to the Future also taught me that incest is surprisingly sexy and that part of me really wanted Marty McFly to kiss his mam because she was way prettier than his 1980s girlfriend and by the sounds of things, way hornier too. And I mean, it wouldn’t be that creepy because it’s a film and people in the 80s didn’t care about incest the way we do now. I mean, the only reason we care Is because of one man who locked his kid in a basement and spoiled it for everyone. But, at least Game of Thrones are bringing it back! The important life lesson here is: Friendship with the elderly will result in time travel and that mothers are sexy.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is perhaps the most important life lesson of all. I mean, firstly, this is the guy who will go ahead and reignite a generation of children’s passion for Africa and is probably the sole reason that we grew up caring about animals, because, let’s face it, anyone who plays SIMBA in a movie is going to be the voice of a generation. I mean, he totally cheated on his wife when she started earning more money than him, but fuck off, he was SIMBA and he also played a person called Ferris, which takes a lot of balls. I take my hat off to him. I think I like this movie so much because it doesn’t play along to the pre-ordained constraints that a lot of movies adhere to. I mean, here he is, a dork for all intents and purposes, bunking off school and having a day of sheer awesome the likes 80s children had never seen before. I mean, he gets involved in a parade that just happened to be making its way down the street when he decided to grab a microphone and join in. I mean, back in the 80s, random parades for no reason were pretty commonplace and it wasn’t weird that no one had the day off work or school to go and see it, because they have parades of everything in America, so people aren’t even that bothered by them. Another parade? ANOTHER PARADE? Ugh, I can’t be dealing with this shit, I have a maths test today! He’s not the traditional romantic hero that a lot of 80s movies encapsulate in their discourse; he’s insightful and inspirational to a generation of teenagers, even today, who feel a little lost and a little broken. The Life Lesson here is: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

The 1980s saw some of the, arguably, best movies of all time and movies that literally shaped a generation of people who were really pissed off not to have been born in a society where no one seemed to care or get down about really shit stuff, I mean, Freddie Mercury, rock god of the time not only came out as gay and people were SHOCKED because flamboyance was not only accepted, it was expected and didn’t see homophobes everywhere clenching their arse cheeks and standing so close to the wall that they could be furniture, but he died and instead of saying horrible things about him being a homosexual, people were sad because his sexual preferences weren’t even a big deal: He was Freddie Mercury for fuck’s sake and he was awesome. Living in the year 2014 sucks, not only because there ARE NO HOVER BOARDS AND TIME TRAVEL DOESN’T EXIST, but because everything is so, so crap these days. You can’t even turn on the news without seeing someone being beheaded or raped. Just once, JUST ONCE, I would love to turn on the news and hear: London came to a halt today as a truant child jumped on top of a float during one of  London’s random daily parades and sang us all a song that caused so much joy that he didn’t even get in trouble for truanting and his childlike joy was so infectious that we cured cancer. That’s all from us this evening, goodbye and have a great night!

I think the most important life lesson from my essay of remembrance is that we definitely need to start finding more time in life for joy and in that same respect, eighties movies. Life is too short to watch a shit, independent French film about the nuances of glancing at someone fleetingly for half a second (but then goes into a two and a half hour diatribe as to how negative this can be on human beings), resulting in a lifetime of misery realising you watched this instead of WarGames. So, let this be a lesson to you: Find more time for joy and more time for dissecting 80s movies to make you feel better about having a shit day. Tot Ziens!

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Twenty Something Midlife Crises:

If you’re reading this, then you may be a twenty something individual going through a little bit of a crisis. I understand. Crises are usually reserved for the middle aged and are thus appropriately glamorised because they had their shit together in their twenties and have therefore earned enough money in their lives to buy a new hairpiece, fill their faces with botox, buy a red sports car and develop a drug addiction, derived from having many dinners and sexual dalliances with high end prostitutes. Twenty somethings are not privileged enough, nor have they earned enough money prior to fly around in a sports car, paying people to have sex with them. (I should also point out that mid-life crises are not gender specific; women have them too, only they are far less glamorous and probably result in drinking wine in the afternoon and declaring themselves ‘cougars’ hitting up clubs with their other miserable friends in order to revitalise their youth in a manner which botox and sex with prostitutes wouldn’t be able to fulfil). Therefore, there is no readily prepared information on how to stop having a crisis in your twenties, get your shit together and stop lamenting over the fact that you’re in thousands of pounds worth of debt because of a degree you were encouraged to get to improve your quality of life/employment chances has resulted in unemployment and eating dried garlic bruschetta for lunch because you’re too cast adrift in your life to consider proper food consumption. I get it, so I’m here to help.

You see, I too have been, adrift and in crisis. One could argue that my current state of affairs is akin to feeling adrift and in crisis, but I would say that you are wrong, because the first stage of a crisis is denial that you are in a crisis. Much like a red sports car is such a good idea, because the ladies love a red sports car and no the media has not bastardised the red sports car to the extent that driving in one is synonymous with being an old creep looking to touch people young enough to be their daughters. You see, denial, it knows no boundaries. I am not denying that I am in a crisis, because I’m not – there is a checklist, which I have handily drafted for you all to highlight that you may be having a twenty something crisis, but I, most certainly, am not:

  1. You have a degree in some kind of artistic pursuit that filled you full of purpose during your formative years, but has since left you feeling empty in body, mind and pocket.
  2. You choose to pursue the talents bestowed on you by said degree by pursuing this as a hobby, which will accidentally, one day, flourish into a career.
  3. You have more wine glasses than you do any other type of glass in your flat.
  4. You take stands quite a lot and are often incensed by things such as the news, adverts and the inability to use your television due to your partner’s inability to explain how to use said device properly.
  5. You have too many dishes to clean on a daily basis.
  6. You have stood in front of a mirror and lamented over your girth, foaming at your reflection, but happy in your resolve that this must be your natural body shape and not a sign that you should stop eating ice cream.
  7. You don’t often wear a bra during the day, so that when people deliver packages to your door, you look like you’ve been breastfeeding two baby elephants simultaneously for the past half an hour.
  8. Or, if you’re male, don’t wear a shirt and the results are pretty much the same.
  9. Your mother often rings you to ask you if you’ve had any joy on becoming a proper adult, instead of the overgrown toddler you have essentially become, given your addiction to bottle shapes, afternoon naps and tears at not getting your own way.
  10. You write lists.

If you have checked positive for any of these, then I am very sorry, but you are probably going through a twenty something life crisis. Given, of course, that you are in your twenties. If you are younger than in your twenties, then don’t worry, your parents pay for shit and this is just childhood, enjoy it, get a tattoo. If you’re older than in your twenties and/or are married with children, then you should probably get your shit together, get off the internet and do something more worthwhile in your life. There is no room for you here.

The main problem, I think, with people who are going through twenty something life crises is that it’s not glamorised enough. Instead of being rich and having sex with people, we are poor and watching Netflix on loop every day watching actors have simulated sex with other actors. It’s all very drab. Plus, if you decide to inform someone that you feel you may be going through a little bit of a crisis, that you feel that your talents and life are dwindling away, that you’re at a point in your life where you see others with their shit together and it gives you feelings of intense anxiety to know that you are at the bottom of the gene pool in both terms of sexuality and employment. These people who you talk to are inherently selfish and will therefore laugh heartily until tiny tears are coming out of their eyelids, they will shake their heads, smile at you and tell you that you should pursue a life of comedy, or that you should write a fictional novel because the stories you come up with are crazy. If you don’t speak to someone selfish, then they will tell you how great you are and buoy your confidence up to a level where you feel stupid for ever feeling that you were in crisis, until they leave and you realise all they did was make you feel temporarily better and are probably worse than the people who didn’t support you and thought you were insane.

The truth is, twenty somethings worldwide are the first generation in life who are on the precipice of life but unable to jump over into that ship of self-sufficient adulthood and money in the bank that doesn’t need to be saved for bills or you’ll be kicked out of your house for not paying rent, because it’s just too far and you’re scared of the presumably shark infested waters that undoubtedly lie beneath. Our parents had their shit together, when they left school at sixteen, careers were pretty much handed to them, having been crafted throughout their school careers. My dad knew he was going to be an engineer and became an apprentice, my mam a hairdresser and did the same. I left school and I knew that I was going to spend a significant amount of time lying around looking at pictures of Ryan Gosling on the internet and reading books, before going shopping two days before college and buying clothes that made me look like a weed smoking hippy from the 1970s that wouldn’t make me any friends. We’re part of a generation that are in debt before we even decide what we’re doing in life, meaning we can’t pursue the things that we should do in our adult lives: mortgages, weddings, financial stability, babies, buying a car that we don’t have to lease, decorating and weekend DIY. Instead, we remain in an almost infantile state, attempting adulthood but failing miserably, working temporary, shit jobs whilst holding out for our degrees to finally pay off, developing addictions to things that remind us of childhood: which explains why EVERY male human you know has either an addiction to some kind of Japanese anime, playing army on his playstation or his xbox with his friends and that girls are weird and icky and why EVERY female you know has at some point in their lives bought a hat with animal ears on it and changed their Facebook status to Disney princess in training because they spent an entire evening drinking wine and singing along to Disney songs in their pyjamas, wishing that men were like Disney princes (not the parts where they kiss you without consent whilst you’re asleep, or kidnap you and refuse to let you see your family so he can force you to love him, though).

To me, it seems like the only thing we can really do at this point in our lives is develop the ability to time travel, go back in time and punch our childhoods right in the face. Tell them to not pursue academic excellence and instead settle for the mundane, because everyone you know who didn’t go to university is now in a proper career, has bought their first home and is married to someone they overlooked during childhood. Let them know that if they do pursue the arts they will end up fat, miserable and unemployed, the only joy in life being the fact that you have found your forever human, so at least that’s out the way and that if you’re asked to join companies under zero hour contracts or for barely minimum wage you should laugh in their faces and explain that they are what is wrong with the economy and spit on their shoes before storming out of their building, indignant and…well, unemployed.

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The Time I Could Have Started My Musical Career, But Was Foiled By Everyone in Life Who Are Clearly Jealous of My Talent

When I was very young, I decided that I was going to be a very famous singer and actress. Passion set ablaze from the very first moment I saw Sandy from Grease emerge from good girl nerd into a tight pants wearing, big hair owning, pouty lipped smoking girl all the bad guys wanted, I made an important decision that that was going to be me. It was practically written in the stars from the moment I sat down in the cinema upon its re-release, to going home and bursting into tears when I realised that Danny and Sandy weren’t married in real life, because they were ACTORS. Grease had a profound effect on everything that I wanted to be in my future. If I was a 1950s mobster performing a poorly written soliloquy in front of the audience of my life, I would have said things like ‘actor, hmm… interesting…We’ll see, WE’LL SEE!!!’ before going off stage to plot my diabolical life plan.

Apparently, pretty much from birth, or so I’m told, I have always had a penchant for both dramatics and singing. When I was a toddler, I used to sing along to the Milkyway advert (the red car and the blue car had a race… Yes, I still know it, shut up!), up until the part where they couldn’t drive anymore because (queue small me standing in front of the TV, blocking everyone’s view, putting my face to my hands in order to convey the sheer upset and shock when I shouted…) ‘OH NO, THE BRIDGE IS OUT!’ and that, ladies and gentlemen, was my first public performance; in my living room, in front of my parents. As I grew a bit older, I was always picked in school plays to be the head angel in the nativity play, which I felt was a teacher’s nod to my scholastic aptitude of awesome and also the fact that everyone thought I was an angel (because let’s face it, I am). I was also once picked to be Mary, which was less glamorous because I didn’t have a staff of tinsel and also I was wrapped in swathes of what can only be described as a curtain from the 1950s (smelled that way too) and also because Mary has to be my least favourite biblical character. Mostly because even as a small child, the idea of someone lying to her husband about cheating on him by saying a deity impregnated her with his mind seemed a little far-fetched and also, she ruins Christmas for Joseph by making him travel round Bethlehem on Christmas Eve looking for an Inn. Like, seriously, Mary, why so selfish?

Because I was a girl, Disney movies played a huge part in my desire to be a singer and an actress, eventually becoming a princess like Belle, not even minding that I’d have to be kidnapped by a giant beast first, because, let’s face it, it’s sexy. I remember seeing Pocahontas and wishing I was an American Indian, minus all the suffering and just span and span around my living room singing Just Around the River Bend until I toppled backwards and knocked a load of washing off the corner of the sofa (where it was standing just a little too precariously, MAM, like some kind of set up to tell me off for spinning). I also spent a lot of time constructing huge, elaborate stories for my Barbies’ to partake in, with the help of my equally imaginative sister, who mostly tried to cause death when all I wanted was a peaceful family wedding followed by my favourite Barbie performing an a capella solo of her favourite song. Then, when we started going on family holidays and discovered the beauty of the karaoke, I took my performances to a new level. My mam has a cassette tape (yep) of me and my sister singing Mama by The Spice Girls and it is perhaps the greatest thing my ears have ever encountered; I even do the ‘Mama, I love you-oooo’ bit that Emma does, its sheer magic.

In hindsight, I should have perhaps encouraged my parents to sign me up for dance classes or singing classes, or acting classes or anything that allowed me to pursue something that I may not have had talent for, but showed increasing enthusiasm for. S Club 7 happened and I would spend hours in front of my open window with the lights on so I could see myself reflected in the window, dancing and singing along doing all the moves, Destiny’s Child would creep in there too, anything that involved excessive dance moves and kicking my legs above my head whilst my mam tried to do some form of house work around me was killer.

Suddenly, in the summer of 1999, my entire life changed. Britney Spears emerged into my life like a phoenix emerging from the ashes; Baby One More Time, became my JAM! I would make up dance moves and stick a straw behind my ear and I would just sing exactly like her and kick and prance around for my mam and show her just how great I was at singing and dancing and professed there and then that when I was older, I was going to be a singer, an actress and a dancer. I remember her smiling and laughing in agreement, like it was one huge joke, because she’s clearly foolish and didn’t want to live off my many riches that multitudes of MTV Awards would bring. GOD, MAM.

Eventually, I think she realised that I did, genuinely intend on becoming a singer, so much so that I would actually practice my pop star make up (always baby blue glitter and super pouty, shiny lips) and stand around practicing speeches and not doing my homework, so she sat me down and had a conversation about what I wanted to be when I was older (joke’s on her anyway, because you can’t *be* things these days and that is why I am not anything. Other than a failure. Which is her fault cos I could have been a famous singer by now. With seven breakdowns under my belt. Benefit of hindsight, eh, mother?!), and I told her outright that I wanted to be a singer, dancer and an eventual award winning actress.

“But you can’t be those things! Do you know how hard it is to be a singer? It’s not a career, sweetheart, it’s a hobby. You can’t be those things, pet.”

And that was it. She left me and I planned to run away, but I lived in Holland at the time and had nowhere to go, I mean, how would I get back to England and become the singer I wanted to be? I had no money and also no idea how to get to England from the south of Holland.

Anyway, you might be wondering, why is she bringing up this cruel and harrowing part of her life? Her dreams were crushed, she is but an empty shell of a human in comparison to who she could have been had her parents allowed her to pursue her life long dream! I know, right? Well, I bring this up, firstly, because I spent this morning listening to The Corrs and remembered that they were one of those people I would listen to and absolutely buzz off, but also because when I was at her house the other week, drunk on wine, I was singing with vigour reserved only for the truly pissed and she turned to me (equally pissed) and said ‘oh, you really can sing!’ and I think when our eyes met, we were both transported back to the time when she told me I’d never make it and part of me wanted to slap her and tell her that I totally could have done, but Brain was there and he would have needed too much context and after the preamble leading up to the slap, the moment would have gone and the slap would not have been as vindicating for me. So I decided to complain and write about how everyone ruined my life instead. Fuck you guys.

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Christmas Gifts:

Because a spider was found on my floor and I’ve now lost it, I am stuck on my bed watching Loose Women and one of their first segments was this year’s biggest Christmas toy, something every parent should be running out to buy for their daughters or granddaughters because it’s a doll called My Friend Kayla and is entirely interactive, because she’s the first doll that connects to the internet. I mean, she didn’t really work or answer any questions, but it got me thinking about my favourite toys I received for Christmas when I was small. So here it is: a definitive list of the best Christmas present Doris ever received.

Speak and spell:

I used to love my Speak and Spell. You’d turn it on and the man in the machine would say: “Right, choose an activity!” and you could choose various options. I used to like doing the spelling tests, where he’d say something in a robotic, very hard to hear voice and I’d spell it out obnoxiously and shout ‘LISTEN TO HOW SMART I AM!’ to everyone in ear shot because I was convinced that I was a child prodigy. I also really liked the option that let me spell freely and type words into the machine and the voice would spell it out. My favourite words to spell were ‘shit’ ‘bloody’ and ‘fuck’ which I knew how to spell from a young age. I’d type them in and then use my tiny body’s weight to press down on the speaker so that only I could hear him spell: ‘s-h-i-t’ and I thought I was so hilarious and edgy.


I never owned Dreamphone myself, but my cousin did and every time we got together, my cousin, my sister and I would gather round and play Dreamphone together. It was so funny, thinking back, where we’d play games and we’d call our crushes up and they’d talk sweet nothings to us down the phone. We’d scream and swoon at the dulcet tones of the surfer dude that we all longed to have and then after we stopped playing and wandered downstairs for snacks and attention, I would sneak away and call my favourite dream hunk up and listen to him chat to me and I would respond with sweet nothings, like I was some kind of attention starved youth, when really I was insanely adored. It was pathetic and probably embarrassing to admit, but whatever, I still long for my Dreamphone Dream Hunk.

Baywatch Barbie


One Christmas, I received a Baywatch Barbie set which is exactly as you see in the image. I got all of that, minus the Ken doll and Rescue Cruiser, because I got a jeep instead.

baywatch jeep

Look at how awesome that jeep is, man!

Anyway, I loved this Christmas present, my parents had set the whole thing up and left it unwrapped on Christmas morning and part of me was totally buzzing, but another part of me was like eh, Santa, please don’t cheap out on me… I was SO GOOD this year! Either way, the present was so good that my sister was totally put out about the fact that she only received a Barbie dream house. We played with this all over Christmas and eventually my sister and I created this amazingly fantastical game that involved our bathroom, a murdered dolphin and a boating accident so bad that Baywatch Barbie lost her head and then became a medical marvel when my Dr Barbie performed a LIFE SAVING operation and stuck her head back on, but due to the trauma, she had no neck and then became a disabled Barbie. It was traumatic, but then one day Hawaii Ken fell in love with her at a dance and they were together forever.


When I opened this one Christmas morning, I thought Santa was perhaps stoned when he delivered my presents. I mean, aside from the fact that I was so young I didn’t know what being stoned was, but I thought something was generally amiss when I received a grey box, Tomb Raider and a football game. What the what, Santa? In hindsight, it turned out to be the best present I’ve ever received because instead of playing it, the true recipient of my gift – my dad – would play Tomb Raider for us all over Christmas and we’d gather around the living room, sometimes moving all of our furniture so the lot of us were sat as close to the television as possible and watch my dad and Lara Croft take on the world. My sister received a cd player that year along with an AQUA CD, so our Christmas was filled with the festive sounds of come on Barbie, let’s go party! And it was really awesome.

Foil Art:

The same year we received our Playstation and CD player, we also received lots of art and crafty type things. The best thing to receive in the world was foil art. I mean, I don’t think I was quite as excited about it as my sister was, because now, as a 24 year old, she still regularly bus foil art and gives me things she has made, that she’s really proud of and I have to display it on my fridge like she’s a toddler.


What were your favourite Christmas presents? I probably have so much more, but I got a bit forgetful writing it and my laptop battery is nearly dead so I’ve stopped. Sorry.

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A List of Things That Scare Me:

  • Clowns

  • Pigeons

  • All Horror Movies Ever Made

  • Poodles


  • Eyes That Stare Too Intently

  • Loud Noises

  • Sheep

  • Spiders

  • Amanda Bynes

  • Living Dolls

Yep… This is a thing.

Happy Halloween everyone! Stay safe, be good and try not to get tricked. xx

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10 Things I did Yesterday that I’m Not Totally Proud Of:

  1. Slept in until 09.38. When I woke up, I plodded in the living room in my Avengers Pjs, drank a Coke Zero and watched Jeremy Kyle.Jeremy Kyle looking aggressive
  2. Considered eating mouldy bread because there was none and then blaming my boyfriend that all the bread that ever comes into this house is destined to be a mouldy half loaf.
  3. Attempted the dishes, washed one plate and then stopped.
  4. Mimed and danced along to Taylor Swift’s I Knew You Were Trouble four times. In a row.
  5. Rapped Outloud.
  6. Drank Bailey’s with my sister at 16.30 and decided there and then that I could happily be an alcoholic as long as alcohol was of decent quality and constantly supplied by someone other than me.
  7. Piling bottles upon bottles of wine in the basket when we went to the shop and then allowing my boyfriend to buy them for me.
  8. Allowing my boyfriend to tidy the entire flat after he’d been at work from 9-5, whilst I half heartedly did dishes and cooked a really easy meal and also sitting down and refusing to help whilst he did it.
  9. Cooking a really healthy and tasty meal for tea, then about an hour and a half later devouring a ciabatta loaf because hunger is endless.
  10. Calling my boyfriend a ‘cunt’ because I was winning at a game we were playing.
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