Festive Frustrations (& Giveaway!)

I love Christmas. Who doesn't? I love the atmosphere, the way families come together and of course the presents and the food (if I don't put on at least 2 pounds this Christmas I don't know what's wrong with me).

However, as with everything, there are cons to go with the pros. While Christmas is spectacular when it all comes together, some of the events leading up to it can be disastrous if they don't go right. Here are some things that get my goat about the run-up to Christmas....

(P.S. at the end there'll be details on how to win my giveaway of a Christmas hamper!)

1: Overspending.

This winds me up. People seem to have forgotten what Christmas is really about (apart from eating as many Malteser Celebrations as you can find) and go mad spending money they don't have. It winds me up seeing someone whine about being broke and having to buy expensive presents and food. I believe there's always a way to do things cheap - a unique, thoughtful present seems a fair trade to me instead of an expensive piece of plastic or extravagant gifts. There's something not right about grown adults bating the heads of each other for an expensive toy (*cough* Frozen doll, anyone?)

2: People who crack out the Christmas jumper and the Michael Bublé CD as soon as Halloween is over.

People like this are akin to those ones who are always bubbly first thing in the morning. How is it possible to be this enthusiastic?! In fairness, I do wish I had that kind of festiveness - I don't get properly Christmassy until, like, Boxing Day. The minute the pumpkins get taken down (actually, the minute the Easter bunny leaves) apparently it's a sign to start fecking the Christmas trees up and playing every single Christmas carol until its exhausted. Side note - does Michael Bublé do reverse hibernation and only come out at Christmas?!

Coming close after that; people who are too damn organised. You know the ones, they have their shopping done in December the year before and the house is like something out of Elf as soon as is socially acceptable. They just make people like me (i.e. the lazier ones) look bad! On a serious note, though, I envy them for getting their shit together.

3: Wrapping presents.

On one hand, I love wrapping presents and if I had the motivation I'd wrap them in tissue paper with bows and bells attached and I'd be a renowned present wrapper. People would see me in the street and go 'There's your wan who wraps the presents!' But in reality, I end up with sellotape sticking my fingers together, in my hair, waxing my eyebrows, cutting my finger instead of the wrapping paper. I'm left with more cuts and scrapes after wrapping a present than I would have after completing Takeshi's Castle.

4: Those impossible to buy for people.

Basically, gift websites seem to think people fall into categories. All mums must like gardening and cooking. All dads must like World War movies and golf. All grandparents must like both those things and reading. And if they don't, you're buggered mate. Let me tell you, if I bought my mum anything 'mumsy' from one of those gift guides she'd look at me as if I'd sprouted another head and the only club my dad would enjoy is a club sandwich. Also notable: people who buy things for themselves in the run-up to Christmas. Y u make things awkward?!

5: The severe lack of Malteser Celebrations in the tin.

Slaps will be thrown whenever someone gets the last one. Need I say more?! Get outta here with your Roses and your Quality Street - gotta be the Malteser Celebrations.

Now for the bit you've probably all skipped down for: To celebrate getting 300 likes on my Facebook page (here) I'm giving away a Christmas hamper which includes biscuits, Christmas crackers, Philosophy shower gel, a festive stocking, bruschetta, chocolate and more goodies - it'd help a bit with some of the Christmas treats and presents! 

To enter all you have to do is head over to my Facebook page, like the page and like and share the post (here). Good luck!

Giveaway now over.

The Problem With....

For whatever reason, my most popular post thus far has been The Problem With Penneys. Whether or not it's to do with the fact I use the word 'arse' in abundance, who knows. All I know is, people agree with it. 

This blog is not about any body parts, you'll be disappointed/pleased (delete as appropriate) to know. It's about things I have a problem with in everyday life, much like Penneys jeans that do not restrain my generously-sized backside.

The problem with....

Having an unusual surname.

I'm sure there are loads of you out there who also have this problem. I'm not sure where my surname comes from - I believe it may be of Scottish origin - but it's not the simplest surname. For privacy sake I'm not going to name it here but those of you who know me in person will probably understand. Every time I go to the bank or the hospital or anywhere that requires my surname to access a file, I'm met with a squinting face as if I've just said 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious' backwards and in Hebrew. I wouldn't mind, but it's not the hardest surname to understand. After I've repeated myself and spelled it out - I now just tell people and immediately spell it out after - I'm usually met with something like "That's not an Irish surname". It's almost like to live in Ireland you absolutely have to have an Irish name. 

Ordering Subway for the first time.

We've all been there. Subway virgins. It's quite daunting, popping your custom-made sandwich cherry. The first challenge is knowing where to queue. Yes, there's queueing protocol in Subway. Whereas you'll usually be inclined to queue on the right hand side, in Subway you queue left to right. Many a time I've gone to Subway and had someone unintentionally skip me in the queue because they haven't yet learned the Subway queue code. Usually when this happens the workers give you the sympathetic 'so-it's-your-first-time' look and let you off, but eventually you learn the drill.

Next, the bread. So much bread. Flatbread, white bread, crusty bread, seedy bread, cheesy bread, wholemeal bread. Why are there so many different bread varieties? Which one are you gonna choose? Why don't you have more time to make a decision? Your hands start to sweat as you feel the eyes of the seasoned Subway customers burning at the back of your head. You quickly choose a bread type that you didn't even want (you don't eat white bread for goodness' sake, why did you order the Italian sub?) and regret it for the rest of the day. 

Then you have to choose what you actually want in it. There's a board above your head listing suggested subs called names such as 'Spicy Italian' or 'Subway Club'. There's a club? Is Subway this exclusive? Fear not, you can get whatever you want in your sub. Everything, if you really want to go all out. Just a word of advice, though - don't get Meatball Marinara if you're meeting your beau later. You'll thank me for this advice. 

Phew, you're almost finished. Now it's time for sauce. Again, is this many sauce varieties really necessary? It's like walking into the Heinz factory. How are you meant to know what sauce goes with your chosen sub flavour? The reason I never get sauce on my Subway is partly because of that reason and also because they really go overboard putting the sauce on, even when I ask for 'the tiniest bit'. You generous people, you. It always amuses me when I hear people pronouncing 'Chipotle' as 'chipolata' or asking for garlic mayo or red sauce. You're not in the Four Lights now, Toto.

I have to admit, I still recite a script before going in to order Subway.

Living in the arse-end of nowhere.

That's the countryside, really. Where I live isn't so bad, but when I used to live out in the proper countryside, I nearly needed to send my map co-ordinates and a camping kit to anyone wanting to visit or they just wouldn't be able to find it. 

Planning a day out takes as much preperation as organising the Olympic Games (probably) because unless you can drive, you're screwed. My city folk friends think I'm being meticulous when I ask them a week in advance when we're meeting, but it's actually just so I can see if I can get into town. 

A friend in London once told me to just 'get the bus in'. Oh sure, I'll get the once daily bus into town at 7 a.m. and return at 6 p.m. Those times are just ideal. Thankfully my mother puts up with me always asking for a lift into town, but I really should finish my driving lessons.

By far the worst part about living in a small area is the fact that if you burp, the whole village knows about it before you do and it may as well be on the front page of the paper. 'Local girl BURPS, every man and his dog outraged.'

I'm not melodramatic at all.

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.

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'.

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.

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..