Too Much Wisdom Is A Dangerous Thing

I should get a slap on the wrist for being a bad blogger. In my defense though, I was couped up in bed with tonsillitis (just before Easter break, natch). To add insult to injury - and to explain the title - I have an impacted wisdom tooth that is making my life a misery. Because our healthcare system in Ireland is so wonderful (!) I'm being refused help for the time being and am having to put up with the usual 'Ah sure we'll prescribe you painkillers, be grand'. I'm tempted to give someone a bread knife and a pliers and do the job DIY style. I may end up looking like the Joker but at least I wouldn't be in agony anymore!

In more exciting news, if you live in Sligo you may have seen me on the front page of the Sligo Weekender (no, I didn't kill anyone). I always thought my media debut would be headlined 'Face Transplants: Before & After' or something like that, but thankfully this was for something exciting. I absolutely love cooking - if you followed my Instagram before I revamped it you may have seen my foodie posts. I was so excited when a talented chef, Liam, gave me the opportunity to feature some of my recipes on his up-and-coming food website, BiaMaith. The website is great if you want to find out how to cook quick, easy meals on a budget so definitely check it out!

I hope you all had a lovely Easter and didn't feel too guilty about inhaling Easter eggs (if you had them). Personally, I never want to see chocolate again for as long as I live. (This is a lie, I literally just ate some chocolate mini eggs and they were amazing). Over the Easter break I  mainly relaxed, got my hair balayaged (ooh get me) by my best friend Bethany - blog to follow, probably - and went to Strandhill a couple of times as the weather was actually pretty nice. Of course, it has now gone back to being baltic, but that's okay because I'm back to work. Thanks, weather gods. 

We also adopted another rescue dog so now we have 2 smelly dogs in the house. He appears to be a cross between a pug and a terrier and he's so ugly it's adorable. I loves him. Even when he does fart and it smells so bad it could knock you out.

So that was just a quick update to redeem myself after not posting for so long. I have a few exciting things coming up so expect more regular posting from now on! *slap on the wrist*

Did you do anything exciting over Easter? Let me know!

Getting To Know You

I now have that shite song stuck in my head. Thanks, brain.

While uuhming and aahing about what blog post to do next - and while browsing other blogs for inspiration - I thought to myself, 'Hey, I am quite strange. Surely I have a few facts about me other people may find interesting?'

So voila. A list of 11 facts about me. Hopefully some of you read this list without yawning once or going 'Dis bitch boring' and clicking out of it.

P.S. I know I'm strange.

P.P.S Please don't judge me.

1. Technically, I've had plastic surgery. No, not a nose job or a boob job or anything scandalous like that (though God knows I could do with them) but when I was around 14 I had my ears pinned back. For as long as I can remember, I got bullied in school for having slightly large super sticky-out ears. The nickname of choice was 'Dumbo' which was horrific at the time but now I think of it, Dumbo is awesome and really cute. So are sticky-out ears. 

2. I pushed my brother onto our marble fireplace when I was 2. He cracked his head open, I got put to bed in my slippers (the ultimate punishment when your brother is bleeding all over the place, apparently) and my mum nearly got arrested for child abuse. 17 years later all is forgiven (though I still get blackmailed with this sometimes) and I seem to actually recall doing it.

3. I dropped a glass on my big toe and I have a scar that looks slightly lightning bolt shaped. I guess you could call me Harry Pottoe. (That was bad I'm sorry).

4. I bit my bottom lip so hard my tooth went through it. Also have a scar under my lip. Why are so many of these facts about injuries? Weird.

5. My teeth are probably one of my biggest insecurities. They're extremely overcrowded and crooked so I avoid laughing/smiling/anything to do with my mouth - leave it - as much as possible. I also have very weak enamel and dental phobia so that's fun!

6. I left school when I was 16, just after I finished my Junior Cert. And I don't regret it one tiny bit - in fact I'd say it was a great decision. Now I'm not saying it'll be the same for everyone, but for me this was pivotal in bringing out my self confidence. I did a course at Sligo Community Training Centre, went on to do a course in Sligo College of Further Education and I'm now doing an internship - who knows what's next. I may not have a Leaving Cert but I am happy.

7. I used to have a snail collection when I was about 7. I hoarded all these random snails from the garden and kept them in a lunchbox. My two favourites were called Major and Champ and I used to race them against each other. Yes, it was possible. They also lived in my dolls' house and I drove them around in my Barbie car.

8. I also had pet stick insects. I was a stick insect breeder. They bred like rabbits so I gave some away to people at school and sold them to my teacher for a fiver each. #entrepreneur

9. My first words were 'Spice Girls'. I really loved the Spice Girls.

10. I make up little dances spur of the moment and perform them in the kitchen. Saying that, I haven't done one in ages. I've always thought to myself, 'I wonder if I'll ever find anyone who will dance in the kitchen with me?'

11. I used to have 2 pet chickens called Paxo and Stuffing (horrible I know) and I used to put them down the slide and dance with them. Pretty sure I have a video somewhere of me doing that. Those poor chickens. I always thought the fox caught them but now that I think of what I put them through they probably ran to the fox and begged him to take them away from it all.

I hope some of these facts were interesting. Do feel free to share or comment - it makes my day! If you have any weird facts I'd love to hear them.

All Good Things Come To An End...

As the Eminem song goes, snap back to reality. And as the Nelly Furtado song goes, why do all good things come to an end? Before I start to sound like a whimsical reading of the UK Top 40, I'll get into the meaning behind this title...

As you all know, the Christmas holidays are well and truly over at this point. I have tried to use the excuse 'Christmas is only just over!' to validate still eating 40 chocolates for breakfast but everyone sees past this façade now. I returned to work on the 5th of January, partly dismayed and partly relieved. I get bored so easily and I was beginning to get cabin fever so I was thankful to get back to some sense of normality and routine. Somehow I think the 3am bedtimes and 2pm breakfasts weren't doing me an awful lot of good! 

Whenever I'd go back to work/college/school after the holidays it would always take me a while to get settled. The things I find the hardest to adjust to are:

Getting up early in the mornings. I value my sleep a lot, as anyone who has tried to wake me up early knows. I live for those extra 5 minutes in bed, so much so that recently I've decided to sacrifice looking socially acceptable for extra sleep. I may resemble a baked potato going into work now, but at least I'm slightly more refreshed!

Eating at weird times. I say weird; they're actually perfectly normal times to eat. Whereas before I'd have breakfast any time from 12 p.m. to 3 p.m. now I have to actually eat my breakfast IN THE MORNING. The indecency of it all. If I'm going to work I get up at 8:30 a.m. and have something quick like a piece of fruit or a smoothie before I head out the door and then have something more substantial at our 10 a.m. tea break, but I find myself getting starving soon after as I'm used to eating whenever, wherever (who am I, Shakira?) and I now have to adjust to having lunch at 12:30 p.m. During the holidays I would've barely been awake then. Oops.

Writing and using the phone. Bit of a random one but you know when you were in school and after the summer holidays you'd come back and forget to write? Yeah, this is me. In fact, I forget to function in society like a normal human being. On my first day back it took every ounce of willpower to avoid answering the phone with 'What up?!' and I can't even explain the amount of times I wrote words in some mumbo jumbo backward kind of way.

Writing 2015 instead of 2014. We all have this problem. I don't even know what day it is anymore to be honest. I judge the days by how motivated people seem. If it's a Monday, everyone seems a little less enthusiastic and if it's a Friday there's a spring in everyone's step and you can practically smell the weekend in the air (the sweet smell of vodka and regret, mainly).

My heart is this cold.

Another thing I quickly wanted to address, mainly because my blog is like my diary and I like to get things off my chest, is that unfortunately the romance is no more. I did a blog in October-ish about my new relationship and I've had a few people ask how it's going so I just thought I'd briefly clear things up on here. I'm not looking for sympathy or attention - it was a clean break and it was simply because of distance, timing and some other issues that seemed unfixable. Thankfully there's no hard feelings (I hope) so I'm thankful it ended on a somewhat okay-ish note and I'm certain it's for the best. 

I do wonder sometimes if I'll ever be capable of maintaining a relationship but I have to remind myself I'm only 19. I'm so young and I have at least another 15 or so years before I'll lose hope and reside to a life of 40 cats and watching The Late Late Show in my dressing gown. Mind you, doesn't sound all that different to what I'm doing now...

Out With The Old, In With The New

Firstly, I'd like to wish all my readers (all 2 of you, heh) a very happy New Year. Thank you so much for reading and sharing my posts. It's quite comforting knowing people care about the shite I ramble on about!

I was inspired by my mum's post to write a post about how my 2014 was. I feel like the majority of people didn't seem to have a good 2014 but for me it was, on the whole, a year full of experiences. Most were good, some were bad, but it's all a learning curve for a youngster like me.

 

Highlights:

Started driving. I would have liked to have been able to put 'learnt to drive' but alas, I'm not quite there yet. It's not that I find it extremely difficult, it's more that 50% of people on the road are fecking eejits and I can't trust their motives. Still, I have 7 lessons done and I haven't killed anyone yet so in my eyes that's a great start.

Finished a college course and got my qualification. I now have a FETAC level 5 in Business Administration which is what I want to do (until I change my mind and decide I actually want to do neuroscience or something completely random, because that's a me thing to do).

Went to London. For a proper, touristy holiday. Spent time with great people, ate some great food and nearly lost a limb trying to maneouvre my way around the tube stations, but it was an experience.

Went to Spain. My best friend Bethany and I had a blissful few days in Torremolinos, Spain, tanning it up (she tanned, I came back looking even whiter than I was before I left Ireland), checking out the nightlife and drinking far too many cocktails. I'd love to get to do this again in 2015.

Started an internship. I know some people think Jobbridge is a slave trade but I'm grateful for the experience and connections I'll get. I also get awful cabin fever and I love having something to get me up and out every day.

Started the blog. For ages I'd been going on about wanting to start a blog and in 2014 I finally bit the bullet. I love having a place to essentially store my memories, vent or just share my interests. I've only had this blog for about 7 months or so but I'm absolutely delighted with how it's going.

So those are just a few highlights of 2014, not to mention spending quality time bonding with my older brother and being able to always cheer each other up through hard times, with my dad who never fails to make me laugh and always looks out for me, and sharing every experience and good time with my mum who is always there for me to tell me when I'm being a muppet and keep me grounded. My family are my rock and I'm so fortunate we're so tight-knit. I love you guys. *sniff*

So before I get too emosh I'd just like to say thanks to my friends and family for making it a great year and to everyone who has read my blog. Hope you all have a great 2015!

The Perils of Alcohol

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a tipple (hopefully no-one misread that) as much as the next 18-year-old girl. The side effects, however, I could do without. I don't condone drinking until you can barely stand or passing out - I'm sure some of my friends will read this and scoff - but there's nothing wrong with having a good night out.

Thankfully, I'm not too bad when I'm intoxicated. I don't get aggressive and I'm not that crying 'why doesn't he love me' girl you always see on a night out. I don't wear shorts that reveal so much arse cheek that they may as well be belts, I'm so not bothered wearing heels mainly because I can't walk in them - it's worth looking like a midget for the sake of comfort. 

In saying that, I had a few drinks on Saturday night and was a bit worse for wear, shall we say, so much so that I didn't notice the puddle of fluid (I'm praying it was a drink rather than vomit/urine/some other unknown bodily fluid) on the floor and subsequently went arse over tit. In my state I did manage to turn my fall into a sort-of impromptu dance move by sliding down the step and scooping myself up with a flourish (that's what I think anyway, to anyone watching it probably just looked like I did, in fact, fall on my arse). Note to self; in future, check the ground for any spillages.

If we have to do the whole labelling thing I'd say I'm more outgoing and elated when I've had a few drinks. Also a bit of a kleptomaniac if we're counting that time I stole some girl's burger and chips, but we won't mention it. Besides, if it were Aesop's Fables the lesson learnt would've been: Don't leave your burger and chips with a stranger. Trust no one.

I do have an awful case of foot-in-mouth when drunk - it's unfortunately true that a drunken mind speaks sober thoughts. I have annoyed a few people with my biting 'wit'. I must come across so rude.

I also have the drunken dancing problem. I'm no Michael Flatley, but you know what it's like when you get a bit of liquid courage. Suddenly you think you belong on Strictly Come Dancing when in reality you look like a gazelle being electrocuted.

And of course, the intoxicated texts. We've all been there. Texting an ex/enemy with a spiel that's barely even legible and then trying to pass it off as a pocket text when they know well you were just being a drunken fool. I still remain adamant they should invent an app that produces a mechanical hand to slap you before you even attempt to drunken message someone.

To conclude, we all know one of the highlights of a night out is getting food at the end. You can't beat a kebab after a night out - although trying to eat a kebab daintily is near impossible so good luck getting more of it in your mouth than down your top. You don't eat a kebab, you shift it. 

If you're going on a night out soon make sure to read these tips - they could save you a sore arse or a chest that stinks of garlic mayo.

Hospital Heartache

Yesterday morning, what was meant to be a simple, routine visit to the doctor turned into...well, the opposite of that. I casually mentioned I've been getting pains in my heart lately, expecting the response to be something like; "That's because you're a lazy bitch" (in medical terms, obviously). I thought wrong. My doctor practically got whiplash as she turned to look at me and bombard me with questions. She proceeded to call the hospital and write a letter. I craned my neck to see what she was writing on the envelope. Emergency Department.

This whole thing wouldn't have been as bad if she wasn't doing that concerned-doctor thing, mm-ing and aah-ing as she wrote the letter that probably said I was about to keel over any second. What I had originally gone in for - my prescription and my routine vitamin B12 injection - was thrown out of the window.

If you live in Ireland (or maybe it's just Sligo), you'll know that going to the hospital is a day out in itself. Waiting hours in a stuffy, smelly emergency department is tough going as it is without having to watch people come in just because they have the flu or something minor. As soon as I mentioned to the receptionist I was in for my heart I was promoted to second in the queue, much to the dismay of another fellow who came in before me. As my name was called and I went to be assessed he stormed up to the nurse and demanded to know why he wasn't next, he was in before me. The nurse explained to him names are called in order of severity, not first come first serve. He gave me a look as if he was glad I was about to be poked and prodded to within an inch of my life. 

Luckily I had a lovely nurse (a female one, much to my dismay when she whipped my top up) who made me feel even sicker when she started calling me 'darling' in that worried voice doctors and parents do. She attached cables to stickers all over my body. I imagine I looked like some kind of cyber-octopus with all of these wires dangling off me.

After more waiting I was promoted to a bed for the whole of 20 minutes while I got my blood taken and a drip inserted - which was baby pink, very stylish may I say. A guy in the bed beside me fainted and about 15 doctors all rushed to him, it was like a real life episode of Casualty. After I had an X-Ray I got my bed taken off me because I obviously didn't look sick enough and got shoved into a Relatives Room. Top care as usual in Sligo General Hospital.

The highlight of the whole ordeal was when a nurse walked into my cubicle and said 'Hi. Adele?' and I said 'No...that's not me'. She proceeded to stare at me for a minute as if I might actually morph into this so-called Adele and go 'Just joking, I am Adele'. Eventually she left and I turned to my mother and said 'Never mind, she'll find someone like me'. *ba dum tiss*

Finally, after 6 and a half hours of waiting, my doctor took me into another room to 'have a chat about what they found', which obviously panicked me even more. I was expecting her to tell me I had 4 hearts or an entire chicken drumstick in my lungs or something like that. Instead, she told me that thankfully it wasn't something very serious such as a blood clot or angina, but as the results weren't conclusive I would need a heart monitor for a week to monitor any abnormalities in my heart, so another trip to the doctor is necessary. She also said inflammation of the cartilage near my heart can't be ruled out, so I'm still not 100% what's happening. All I know is I'm glad it's nothing very serious.

I also want to say thanks for everyone who wished me well on Facebook, it's so nice to know people care about me even if we've never met.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

I thought I'd do a bit of a different post today. I guess you could see it as a chance to get to know me better. Or just a chance to see how fussy I am.

This post is gonna be about trivial things that make me tick and things that make me sick, hence the title. Disclaimer, if you are easily offended (which, if you read my blog, I should hope you aren't) and do any of the following things that annoy me, don't take it to heart. I'm sure you're a lovely person, just with disgusting habits.

The Good - Things I've Been Loving Lately

The library. Bit random, I know, but I recently went to the library after having not been for eons and it was an enlightening experience - mainly because one of the assistants (if Cupid was a person he would be this guy) was all too keen to help me get sorted (with my library card, get your minds out of the gutter). I am secretly hoping one day I'll be sitting in the library and my life will suddenly turn into Pretty Little Liars - minus all the murdering - and the guy of my dreams will approach me and admire how artsy and intelligent I am. Pffft.

'Not my circus, not my monkeys'. My favourite phrase nowadays, introduced to me by my mother. I've found myself getting a little bit too stressed over how idiotic some people are. The way some people are treating this whole Garth Brooks situation like it's the end of the world has probably given me premature high blood pressure. When I find my blood boiling I calmly say to myself; 'not my circus, not my monkeys'. It's better than doing yoga, probably.

The Fault In Our Stars. For those of you who don't read anything but the back of the Cornflake box or if you've been living under a rock, The Fault In Our Stars is a Young Adult fiction novel by John Green. I read the book last year and was very excited when I heard about the film adaptation. I won't spoil anything but it's a heartwrenching story. However, I was adamant I wouldn't cry at the film - the only film I've ever cried at is Marley & Me. Alas, I left the cinema like a sobbing wreck. When it finished Bethany turned to me and said; 'What kind of movie did you take me to see?' Still, aside from the emotional turmoil, it was a beautifully done film and I recommend you see it while it's still in cinemas.

The Bad - Things I Hate

Odd sandwich choices. This makes me irrationally angry. I lose a bit of respect for people who eat coleslaw in sandwiches. Coleslaw is a side, it's not designed to be put in sandwiches. It's meant to be enjoyed on its own, not undermined by two slices of bread. I don't think very highly of egg salad sandwiches either. And potato salad sandwiches are just a whole other ballgame. I also subconsciously judge people on what they get on their Subway sandwich, but in fairness, I get such a boring Subway I probably get judged too. I'll never forget the day I got avocado on my sub and someone looked at me like I'd just asked for human remains.

The lack of facilities in the cinema. I said to Bethany when we were in the cinema the other night, why aren't there wee tables on the back of the cinema seats like they have on aeroplanes? Too many times I've set my popcorn down on the floor only to trip over it or have someone else trip over it and send half of it spiralling down the aisle. There's nothing more depressing than floor popcorn. By the way, if anyone steals this idea and patents it as their own, I hope you knock your popcorn over everytime you go to the cinema.

The Downright Ugly

Crocs. Need I say more?

I could go on and on but then this blog would turn into a book. What can I say, I'm easily annoyed.

Sad Tales of Car Boot Sales

I'm a poet and I don't even know it.

Apologies for the lazy blogging lately, I've been sick (curse you, Sea Sessions) and haven't been up to much, therefore I had nothing to blog about. I don't think many people would be interested in hearing about what I got up to - mainly lying in bed binge-watching Orange Is The New Black - so I decided to wait until I actually did something productive.

I'm mad for a good car boot sale. I'm mad for a good bargain in general - isn't everyone? - I get most of my clothes from charity shops because I don't have the money to spend €30 on one top in this economy, and chances are no one else is gonna be wearing the same things as you.

Since moving house I realised how much stuff I have accumulated, so when I heard about an upcoming car boot sale in Sligo I was delighted I'd finally have the chance to get rid of some unwanted items that were takin up space in my room. I filled up some boxes with clothes, shoes, books and DVDs to sell and me, my mum and my brother headed on our merry way to the venue where the boot sale was being held.

I've been to some depressing and disappointing car boot sales in my time, but this one was by far the most disappointing. 30 minutes in I still held on hope that there would be a sudden rush of people who were all dying to buy our quality items. I felt like a child at their birthday party when nobody turns up but their parents, except there wasn't even free food or balloons to console me. 

I envisioned myself making a fair amount as I had so much stuff to sell and had priced it fairly - I think anyone who charges €10 for a secondhand dress is a bit deluded - so I thought I'd make about €50 which I can add to my London savings. I made a grand total of...... *drum roll*

NINE. EURO. 

Soul destroying. That wouldn't even buy me lunch in London. If anyone wants to donate to the Charity of Me, feel free.

At one point we were so bored we started playing with a box of Lego we were selling and I made the beautiful creation above. The one on the left is a self portrait. We were having a whale of a time until some fun-sponge bought the Lego off us.

Also, what is with people taking the p*ss trying to haggle ridiculous amounts? Some woman had the nerve to ask would I sell her 2 handbags for €2 (I was selling them for €2 each, one was from Topshop). In the end she begrudgingly bought one of them. I think I'm better off selling my stuff online or somewhere where people actually appreciate the bargains they're being offered.

*sniff*

Anyway, that concludes this sad tale. If anyone wants to find me in London you'll see me standing outside Buckingham Palace with boxes of bric-a-brac, holding a sign saying 'Will sell cheap clothes for Oyster Card'.

Sun, Sand & Songs: Sea Sessions 2014

So here it is, the blog all of you (and by all of you I mean a couple of you) have been waiting for. A while ago I did a blog post about how I was preparing for the festival - read it here - which went down pretty well, so of course I'm going to update you on how the festival went. I know you're all dying to know how the toilet situation went.

Me and my best friend Bethany headed up on Friday - after getting a huge pizza to line the ol' stomachs - and got dropped off at the campsite carpark. Unfortunately the carpark was miles away from the actual campsite so we had to walk for aaages with all our stuff. I had about 3 bags as well as my sleeping bag and foam mat so I looked like a real-life version of Buckaroo.

When we finally reached the campsite we dumped all our stuff on the ground and stared at the tent. I kinda hoped it would magically assemble itself if I stared hard enough, but no such luck. Thankfully Bethany used to be in the Scouts (as you do) so she assembled most of the tent while I touched it a bit to pretend I was helping.

We were blessed with lovely dry weather so we spent some time chilling at the campsite having a few drinks. We have a friend who has a place in Bundoran so we headed up to meet her and then a group of us went to the beach and hung out there, drinking, having a laugh and listening to the music coming from Sea Sessions. We then went inside to check out a few of the acts. We saw Raglans and DJ Yoda - two acts I've never heard before but I really enjoyed both. 

The next two days seemed to fall into the same routine - head to the beach and then go into Sea Sessions. We saw The Strypes (which I only remembered when I went back through the photos, oops... I'm sure they were very good!) and walked around listening to various other acts too. As well as music, the festival also had a skate and surf competition and a cool contraption that they strapped people into and it spun them around - although probably not the safest idea after a few drinks.

Sunday we decided we had to see Kelis and Ella Eyre. We saw Kelis (who was very good but she has aged quite a bit, I don't think her gone-off milkshake brings many boys to the yard nowadays). Everyone went mental when she sang a jazzed-up version of Milkshake. We then headed to see Ella Eyre. However, she never came on and instead we watched a reggae act. I later found out her tour bus had had a collision just before the show - so gutted we didn't see her but I'm glad she's safe and well.

When we left Sea Sessions that last night I felt very sombre to know it was all over. I would've liked to see Hudson Taylor, Ron Pope, Rackhouse Pilfer and The Dandy Warhols but alas, you can't see 'em all, and I was glad I got to discover some new acts.

I didn't end up spending too much money (although I did think I was gonna have to pull out one of my kidneys to sell on the black market to pay for the drinks at the festival) and didn't do too much damage to my body but I am paying for it with a nasty cold now.

The camping situation wasn't too bad - the worst part was the lack of sleep, I'm an awful grump if I don't get enough sleep and we were located right beside a tent full of people who sang 'til about 7:00 a.m. - but hey, that's festivals for you. I'd like to camp again, just not at a festival. 

I shamefully ended up bringing my pee bottle and set up a 'toilet corner' in the tent with the bottle, tissues and antibacterial wipes (pretentious) but luckily didn't need it. Portaloos were plentiful and not that bad - although on the last day they were like a warzone and I saw things I can't unsee. I think my soul left my body. It was like musical Portaloos trying to find one that wasn't vomit-inducing. 

So that was my festival experience. I had a brilliant time and I'd cert go again - although I'd probably stay in a hostel next time! I'm dying to go to Longitude later this month but I'm poor. If anyone could hook me up with (give me) a ticket I would do nearly anything for you...within reason.

Festival First-timer

In 6 days I will be heading to Bundoran for a weekend full of beach, boozing, boogying, and any other words that begin with 'b'. I was lucky enough to win weekend tickets for Sea Sessions music and surf festival (if you're not Irish/live under a rock, check it out here) much to some people's dismay. "You win everything! Stop winning things!" they cried. To those people I say, "Do you enter competitions?" which usually works as they mutter "Sometimes..."

I am ridiculously excited. It's my first time a) going to a festival and b) camping. Initially, when I told my family I'd be camping they all scoffed and laughed and gave me the 'you-will-never-survive-camping' look - not very reassuring. I'm not that high maintenance. I'm not worried about being smelly or dirty (I'm used to it, ha) or not showering or not sleeping or mud or anything like that, but I am a bit worried about the whole peeing situation, I won't lie. 

I haven't ever had to forego the security of knowing I can pee whenever, wherever (like that Shakira song) so fumbling in the dark looking for a toilet is probably going to be a downside. I was a bit tempted to buy one of those SheWee things but I have a feeling Bethany - my best friend and festival-buddy - will lose every ounce of respect she has for me (which isn't much, to be fair). So I'll brave it out and pray there's no accidents - I'll be sure to keep you guys posted on how it went afterwards. 

Sorry for being vulgar and going on about toilet happenings but hey, we all do it and someone had to say it.

There is, also, the overpacking problem. As mentioned before I pack everything but the kitchen sink, but that's probably a good thing for a festival. I'm going to have to buy a poncho, for God's sake. I never thought the day would come where I'd be buying a poncho and possibly wearing it with wellies but hey, it's an adventure and I'll be gross anyway. I did briefly flirt with the idea of buying a fannypack (snort) but I decided this was a step too far and I'll probably just end up shoving any valuables in my bra.

I also still need to plan my outfits, which I can already tell is going to be a disaster. I got a few white flowy dresses and a flower hair-tie in the hopes I'll look Coachella-fabulous but I know deep down I'll end up looking drowned-rat chic, if Irish weather is anything to go by. I did buy a pair of John-Lennon-esque sunglasses but they're way too big for my face and just make me look like a fly. All I need to do is rub my hands together and vomit on other people's food and I'll have the fly look down.

I'm also planning on chalking my hair pink, purple and blue for the festival and doing some (more outrageous than usual) makeup so I may or may not do a separate blog on that. I'll just make sure I don't wear my fly sunglasses.

The Problem With Penneys...

Penneys (or Primark/Primani/The Depths of Hell depending on your stance) has its advantages, of course. A shop full of cheap, on-trend clothes/shoes/accessories meaning you don't have to shell out hundreds of euros and cry yourself to sleep every time you want to kit out your wardrobe. But, it also has lots of disadvantages.

Obviously, there's the evergrowing serious problem of exploitation and mass production which makes Penneys so cheap (and poor enough quality most times). But alas, this is not a serious blog, and as much as I care about exploitation and inequality, I'm going to have to be a shallow asshole for the duration of this post for the benefit of the blog. I'm sorry, world.

Every time I go into Penneys I feel my soul leave my body. I see people enter the shop and watch the light slowly leave their eyes and the hope fall off their face when they see the stock all over the floor, the incorrect-sized hangers, the mothers screaming for 'SHAKIRA!' across the shop, and the queues - oh God, the queues...

I can deal with having to pick my way across the messy floor like some sort of deranged spider. I can deal with having to nearly poke my eye out with a hanger just to find the right size, only to eventually come out with a size 20 top instead of a size 10 (oversized is in nowadays anyway). I can sigh and roll my eyes through the queue and the queue-skippers. But I nearly have a hernia every time I get home only to find I can't squeeze my (generously sized, I won't lie) arse into a pair of their jeans.

I have a sizeable arse. This is a known fact. I'm not trying to be vulgar, I'm just laying out the facts here. It is capable of knocking over items (I once knocked over my friend's wooden giraffe statue with it and managed to break its head off...the giraffe, not my arse) and small children. Unfortunately Penneys seem to think to be a size 10/12 you can't have any junk in the trunk. I go to put on a pair of Penneys jeans, rejoice when they fit comfortably on my legs/thighs, and then brace myself when I go to pull them up over my behind. I feel like the Jaws theme tune should play in the background every time. So, I waddle and hop around my bedroom like the mutated offspring of a bunny mixed with a penguin. And then see myself in the mirror, pull them off and throw them across the room in a huff and vow to never buy jeans ever again.

Maybe by some divine chance Penneys will subliminally hear me (or read this...if they do, I do still love you Penneys...) and come out with a new line of jeans for those of us who have a little something extra to fill out our jeans. 

To make a long story short: Penneys are not ready for this jelly, not just yet.

Facials & Fiascos

I don't know if it's just me (or the fact I've only been twice in my whole life), but spas intimidate me. Both times I've been I feel as though I've stepped into a super-secret club for posh people and ladies of leisure. There's nothing too difficult about putting on a robe and being pampered, but I think I have post-traumatic stress disorder from the very first time I went where I somehow managed to, erm, expose myself to the woman who was giving me a facial (but in my defense, why was it necessary for me to be naked apart from a skimpy pair of plastic underwear for a facial? And no, it was not a sketchy back-alley 'spa'.)

Why is it normal spa behaviour to be almost naked if you're having a facial? Is it meant to be relaxing? Are you a pleb if you want to keep your robe on?

Anyway, I managed to pluck up the courage to go again the other day, and whilst I managed not to flash anyone, I still managed to make myself look like an eejit (you can't take me anywhere) by stealing someone's seat in the relaxation room. When I apologised to her and said I didn't realise, she looked at me like I was the biggest buffoon. In fairness, the towel and the two apples she had left sitting there should've been a dead giveaway..

Anyway, all fiascos aside, it was a very enjoyable facial and hopefully as time goes on I'll be a seasoned spa-goer and a proper, normal functioning member of society - but I wouldn't count on it any time soon.

A Mini Rant..

Today I wanted to blog about something (admittedly something very trivial) that annoyed me. I was perusing Facebook when I noticed someone posting about a 'new invention' - a sort of sheet-like monstrosity that you use/wear/lie on in bed to avoid your fake tan staining your sheets. Fair enough, some people may think this is a great idea and it may save a lot of innocent bedsheets, but in reality it looks like a sheet of brown paper (and who wants to feel like a wrapped-up sandwich from the deli in bed? Not very relaxing) and I see absolutely no point in paying for something so pretentious when you could just shove a towel on your sheets or wear black/old pyjamas and be done with it.

The comments underneath also irked me. Guys complaining about girls being 'too fake nowadays' for wanting to look sunkissed and girls who were fortunate enough to already look like they come from Barbados lashing out at those of us who enjoy wearing fake tan.

 Now, I have nothing against being pale, I think it's beautiful, but I personally enjoy being tanned if I'm going out or going to a special event. I don't think anyone needs to see my pasty legs out in full force. I just wish women wouldn't be so quick to judge other women just for slapping on some brown goo. Instead of being so hateful we should empower each other. End of inspirational speech.

Saying that, I have had a few unfortunate fake tan incidents - the most notable one being when I put on my fake tan, realised I had to go to the bathroom afterwards, and hadn't been informed that there was bleach on the toilet seat, which turned my tan green. Cue walking around with an arse and the backs of my thighs looking like something out of Shrek (sorry for the images). Not very attractive...

Anyway, I'll stop ranting - for now.

Rants, Raves and Rambles

So, here goes, my first official post.

I thought I'd just write this on how my day went seeing as it's relevant to me and maybe some of you will find it amusing or agree with me.

First of all, on my way into town today I heard Shakira's new song (called Empire, I believe) on the radio. Do you ever listen to a song and think ok, it's alright, but then you really listen to it and you're like.....what?! That's the case with this song. Fair enough, she really likes this guy or whatever, but I sincerely hope when he touches her she doesn't make the appalling noises she makes in the song! The poor guy would be wondering what he inflicted upon her.

I'm also currently learning to drive (no mean feat, considering I started with absolutely no experience). I had my 5th driving lesson today and it didn't go as well as I'd hoped. After feeling I achieved a lot in my lesson on Monday I was disappointed with myself after today's lesson. I'm a perfectionist, which can be both a good and a bad thing. Today it was a bad thing, because I felt as though I let myself down by making silly mistakes - although I'm sure my driving wasn't too bad. Luckily I have a great driving instructor (if you're in Sligo and you're thinking of getting driving lessons check him out here) who does his best to try not to look too terrified while I'm driving (just joking, I'm not that bad - I hope...)

Now if I could just find an insurance company who have a little faith in an 18-year-old learner driver I'd be flying it!

On a completely different note, I wish the weather would decide what it's doing. One minute it's like living in the Costa del Sol (maybe a slight exaggeration) and the next it's sub-zero. 

I think that's about all I have to say for today. Feel free to comment and follow and all that jazz, it's nice to know people are reading. Also, if there's anything you'd like me to write about on the blog feel free to let me know - within reason of course!

Until next time..