Veruca Salt, much?

Wondering how the preparations for Saturday are going? I'll spare you the ins and outs and summarise the whole ordeal in three succinct sentences, thusly:

1) Booooo, I hate Easter.

2) Stupid Jesus overshadowing my birthday.

3) You can stick your chocolate eggs!

Carry on.

Can't Get You Out Of My Head

Okay, so, it's my birthday on Sunday and I'm planning to go out and celebrate my final hours as a 24 year old on Saturday night. Now, I know this might sound a little uptight, but organising anything like this when it's for your benefit - a birthday or celebration with you supposedly at the centre - stresses me out. I don't mind arranging celebrations for other people, or throwing together a night out just because, but I hate it when people have to show up for me. I figure if I feel awkward though, I'll just get drunk. Then I'll have someone confiscate my phone so I don't drunk dial anyone.

I do love deciding what to wear though. I'm even thinking I might break out the Kylie dress. I've had this dress for years but I've only wore it the once. I so need to rock the Mosquito in that dress... Whaddaya say 'Muffin?

...'Muffin?

Ghetto Princess

Happy Birthday MJ!!

You rock my world.

*kiss it, kiss it, spank it*

They say it's your birthday...

Happy Birthday to Heather!!!

I unwittingly celebrated for you last night, girl! I couldn't resist re-posting this pic as Wondy did a few days ago, because it's so utterly fabulous. It's a small way of marking the occasion on my little old blog, but there's big love behind it!


Have fun!

Take Heart

I may not be going to the splendorous event that is the Take That Beautiful World Tour, and have lost out on the best tickets in the whole god damned world, but I do have a rather magnificent chocolate leather holdall winging it's way to me:

It's for my birthday, off my parents. I ordered it myself last night. My birthday isn't for another month. Tee. Hee.

This bag says to me: Yes, I'm 25, I know exactly where I'm going, and I'm fabulous!

No pressure now, bag.

Just realised it looks like it has a grumpy face... and is now reminding me a little bit of this guy.

High Heels and Low Lifes

Today marks two years since I started blogging, which is crazy, because it seems like yesterday I put together last year's Top 5 Posts. And I'm a bit disappointed that nothing I've written this year would have made that list. But whatevs. This is warts and all blogging. So, here are my best bits since last Feb, curiously perched at a jaunty angle on a witches nose near you.

1. Ode to Paris. A lesson in teenage fug.

2. Oops I Did It Again. Mybug, mybug, mybug, mybug, I love my ginger bug.

3. I'm Not Dead Yet. Chica can fuck up any aspect of her life!

4. The Edge of Reason. Back when Alfie was just "Himself" (before I created a monster.)

5. Closer. The longest post in the world, all about a snog.

It might not be pretty, but it's all true. Another year? Bring it on!

A special thanks to my, um, let's say "exclusive" group of readers and commenters, some of whom have become good friends and a big part of my days. You're ace!

The Decemberist

Oh, and since it is after midnight:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY G!!!

You're a year older! And yet I haven't aged a day!!

Have a good one!

S'all.

Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen

Just time to wish my other niece a Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday Tink!

Yes, it's been an expensive month for me!

Happy 18th Birthday Pebbles!

My niece is 18 years old today! Happy Birthday babe!

Learning to Juggle

How do people manage to have full time jobs and lives of their own? I mean, really, it's my niece Pebbles' 18th birthday on Friday, and I haven't shopped. I'm going away Saturday morning, and I haven't shopped. Nor will I start packing until Thursday night (maybe), I have two jobs to apply for tonight, plus it's my other niece's 16th birthday next week, and I haven't shopped (I need to get her present before I leave for France.) Plus I discovered, thanks only to a chance conversation with Potter, that it's my responsibility to find someone to cover my late night next week because I'm off. Which sucks because you basically have to ask for a favour every time you want time off. Am debating whether to inflict the Foot Fetish Perv on Potter. Oh, and I have to squeeze some time with my Snuggle Bunny in before I say au revoir for a whole week.

What do teenage girls like these days? I mean, apart from tequila and excessive dieting? Jewellery is always a good idea on big birthdays, but I have such different taste from Pebbles. Also we have the problem of The Event. Me and mine are currently at war with my sister's husband, otherwise known as The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. As plans currently stand, we may be going for an Italian, which should be fine because Grinch doesn't like Italian food. And if he does come, I could always sprinkle his carbonara with arsenic? Oops. You didn't hear that!

Had a funny moment with Foot Perv recently actually. I was helping some girl with the photocopier and he came to take over since it was my break, but she was photocopying pictures of men's bits - purely for medical purposes I understand. When Toes lifted up the page he was like "Oh!" and made all funny embarrassed noises in his throat. His face was a picture! I wonder if he was thinking "Why doesn't mine look like that?!"*

A horrible man came in yesterday and was really rude and aggressive to the lovely Hoggle. He was so obnoxious I wanted to slap him, and you really couldn't find a nicer person than Hoggle, so I really hope something Karmic, and preferably with very big teeth, bites him in the ass.

By the way, sorry MJ, I totally meant to post this link days ago (don't click on it when your boss is making the rounds... unless he's a W&G fan.)

*Speculation, for humorous purposes only and not intending to suggest that I have any actual knowledge of the state of Foot Perv's wanger.

Being 23

What to report? A weekend of pubbing, defying the crappy weather by larking around on the beach, long journeys, and general merriment. I got some great presents, and now I'm 23 years of age! Which I've decided is a good age. Lots of cool people are 23. Sienna Miller is 23, she dates Jude Law, therefore, it can't be bad. See, I'm capable of being perfectly logical.

It snowed on my birthday too; I was sitting on a bench, with an amazing view of a gorgeous lake and mountains all around me, the sun was shining down upon us, and it snowed. Gentle little flakes from the heavens, from a blue sky actually, which was weird. I drank lots of wine in a country pub, but was only slightly squiffy, and then me and the boyf wandered down (boyf would argue for 'wandered down' to be replaced with 'hiked for 20 miles', but in fact it was only one) to the beach, where we stood and watched the lighthouse for a bit, and on the way back I saw a shooting star! Which, I dunno, I just felt that rounded the day off nicely :)

In the morning before we left for our weekend getaway I caught up with my nearest and dearest as well, and got the best card ever from my sis with my name on the front. So thanks go out to all those who made it a great day for me, especially a certain boy :) Love you peeps loads xxx

Another Day, Another... Lack of Dollars

This coming weekend is my birthday weekend and for it I'm running away to Wales with my boyf and little baby puppy. Puppy is technically 8, so not a puppy at all but he's an only child, so he'll always be my puppy! By midnight on said birthday, on which I will reach the grand old age of 23... yes, 23, and what did I spend my last weekend as a 22 year old doing? Working, and trying to sort my wardrobe out. My wardrobe is like a volcano that everyone thinks is dormant until you try and open the door and a cascade of hangers and sequins and twenty four thousand jumpers you haven't wore for about three years rain down upon you, as if you've angered the wardrobe gods. I should have been out somewhere, teetering around in high heels and sending my mates tipsy text messages, but alas my purse contains only dust and old bus tickets. But I digress. By midnight, I hope to be walking home from the pub down the beach road, doing the Peter Kay dance, then looking at the stars for a bit, pretending to be romantic. The weekend after brings the proper night out, as, although I know even before I speak the words that I'm confirming the fact that I'm aging by about a century never mind a year in this single utterance, town will be too busy this weekend because of the races. But who really wants to wait in a three deep scrum at the bar? Plus you get all those men huddled in grey suits holding pints in one hand and searching for a passing ass to grab with the other. Note to all bum-pinchers: it's not big and it's not clever!

All this and I've no credit on my phone! This seems a mere trifling annoyance in itself, but what can I do in the meanwhile when I'm in the middle of writing my essay and my brain refuses to construct further sentences until I've texted my good friend Guillermo Silverknife? (I've started letting my friends choose their own aliases, BIG mistake!) Update my blog, obviously!