A difficult period of much alcohol consumption, probably contracting some sort of STD and trying your best to come out of 2014 with a slither of dignity.

Thursday, 11 July 2013

The art of flirting?

I really try to refrain from calling it an art, I don't think anything related to cringe-worthy chat up lines and asking the closest person whether they want a drink, should be called an art. For starters, everyone in that club/brothel/aquarium or wherever else tickles your fancy, wants a fucking drink, if they don't then you probably won't want to be with them anyway, due to the fact they'll be sober and you're probably not looking so smashing.

I write this post because today... I got chatted up. This is a rare occurrence for me. And it wasn't pleasant.

I was quietly minding my own business sat outside work after a gruelling 8 and a bit-too-long hour shift, reading my book and burning alive in my black uniform when one of my regulars peeks his head over my shoulder and exclaims 'oh you're reading!!!!'.

I felt like turning around and giving him a good slap, yes I'm reading this book I am holding.. What else am I doing with it? Feeding children in Africa with it? Using it to paint my nails with? Yes Sir, I am reading it.

So after his very intellectual and insightful comment, he decided to encroach on my personal space and sit so close to me he might as well have been wearing my flip flops. He asked me about what exactly it was I was reading, I told him poetry, he asked if I'd read him one, so I did.

He then told me I have beautiful eyes and a good heart.. How it progressed to that I'll never know.

Ladies, Gentlemen and anyone else reading this, if you want to try to chat someone up do not, at any point, start talking about how many children you want. HELLO this is the 21st century, I am still a child and I do not want any of my own any time soon. My interests are swinging from chandeliers naked and playing in paddling pools full of whiskey. Not cleaning up shitty nappies that I'm sure I didn't grow out of before you'd finished your degree.

Because he is a regular, we have an unwritten rule at work to not be rude and to comply with what they're saying; usually they'll back off after a while. So after the 19th time he asked for my number, I scrawled it on a rizzla paper (the classy lady that I am) and tried to get back to my book.. This did not work. He was still sat there. Staring at me.

This gentleman is about 30, he's a millionaire and he drives a Bentley. I told him my age. He still didn't leave. I told him many things I thought would put him off:

  • That I wasn't interested in his materialistic possesions, 
  • that I wasn't going to cook him the picnic he wanted, 
  • that I wasn't willing to carry his children, 
  • that I had an STD, 
  • that my life was failing, 
  • that my Dad was a drug lord, 
  • that I have 14 toes
  • that i'm married to my cat... 
Okay maybe I didn't tell him all those things, but they definitely ran through my mind.

He was relentless and he didn't leave, I had to leave. This wasn't nice, I felt stupidly uncomfortable and definitely was a little bit sick in my mouth.


I'm not quite sure how flirting works anymore, chivalry is most definitely in it's dying days. Dying as in playing scrabble in a retirement home dying. I mean how freaked out would you be if someone turned up outside your house blasting a romantic love ballad from their boombox to declare their love for you; I'd probably throw my cats at them and issue a restraining order.

However much we'd like to pretend we'd love all that romantic super soppy vomiting up rainbows and happiness shit, really the truth is we're all probably more likely to respond to a Facebook message saying 'oh hey ur tits r well nice wana meet up?' than being asked out on a conventional date.

So much flirting these days occurs over social networking sites, which really is the most stupid thing that's come of this transfer to technology. You're sat staring at your laptop or your phone, talking to someone you've probably never met, or definitely never met sober, looking at pictures that have been professionally airbrushed and most likely getting their charming one-liners from their Mother.

I suppose we could be stuck in this little rut, maybe men grinding their sweaty junk on you in clubs, or girls slut dropping on your freshly polished shoes is the way we are to find our next victims? I hope for the sake of everyone on this planet, and definitely the next generation to come, this is not true.

Tuesday, 9 July 2013

University Road trips: Leeds and Newcastle

On the quest for a university; something the most of you will be undergoing at this point. Not usually the most enthralling thing on a whole, but an adventure to somewhere new none-the-less.

As I've grown up in Manchester, around the drunken homeless people screaming about cats and drugs and attending many a classy, and also many a truly scummy, venue for a night out, my question is do I search for a bigger city with a more thriving atmosphere or do I opt for a smaller, more cosy place to spend my 3 years studying?

Leeds Met
The first university I went to look at was Leeds Met. Being completely honest it was more for the idea of a day off college than truly invested time into my future (sorry Mum). The city itself was buzzing with charisma and I liked the fact that although it was a big city, everything felt intimate enough not to be intimidating. Plus it seemed like there was enough bars to crawl out of at any time of the day.

The actual university I was pleasantly surprised with, the building was new and clean; cleanliness being something I clearly took for granted at this point, as some of the other universities I've looked at actually looked better placed on an episode of 'Skint'. The lecturer was well informed and shot out a fiery hour of structured journalism chatter which impressed me greatly.

Sadly, after I'd attended my lecture in the prim, preen and highly equipped classroom, we escaped to a little bar opposite the Uni called Dry Dock, situated inside a ship, how exciting.. I know I was equally impressed with the university as I was with the boat shaped bar - which definitely tickled the students inside of us with the £5.50 burger and a beer deal.

After the burger, and the beer, and the sunshine. We didn't quite make it back to the university.. On the upper hand, we did make it to the closest area with shops. The fact that Leeds is only an hour away from Manchester makes it appealing, and also unappealing at the same time. Appealing due to the fact if I end up in hospital because I've drunkenly slipped on someones takeaway and broken my ankle, my relatives can come shower me in gifts and naked women. Unappealing due to the fact I wanna go far far away so my Mum can't come over and nag at me about washing up and not wearing the same socks 4 days in a row.

I shall be making a more productive (in the eyes of parental control) visit back to the university later in the year, without the distraction of cheap meat and friends who are most definitely bad influences but the little I did see, I liked and I shall be back with much more fruitful information when I return from my second visit.

Newcastle and Northumbria
A charming 3 and a half hour drive in the sunshine, my overly organised Mother and my equally as noisy best friend. I was excited for our little overnight stay in Newcastle and had been for a while, when we arrived at our Quayside Travelodge with mysterious stains on the curtains and beds similar to that of Auschwitz's; I can't say I was overly impressed.....

......then I remembered I'm not a hotel inspector and I wasn't here to decide whether the hotel was up to standards as I'm sure my student accommodation will be plastered in much more disgusting oddities than that of the Travelodge's.

 After anti-bacterialing the room, ourselves and all our belongings, we headed out into Newcastle for a cheeky look around. Settling for a hearty meal at Wagamama's in a square which held qualities similar to that of the a smaller Spinningfields if we're in comparison with Manchester.

My first impressions on Newcastle were positive ones, Quayside and wherever the Wagamama's was situated were funky and urban. But as me and Jay went out for the evening, the people weren't as friendly as I'd expected. We didn't go 'out out' due to the fact that we had to be up at stupid o'clock because my  regimented Mother had a schedule to attend to but we went to a few terribly scummy bars. Although we have a tendency to pick the more ruckus atmospheres so it could've just been a few bad decisions on our behalves.

Trying to get up at half 6 the next morning, after Jay had fallen next to her bed as we arrived back to the hotel after being heckled by 30 year old men on stag do's, was so much harder than expected. I felt like swinging my Mother around by her toenails as she kept insisting it was time to wake up. I fancied just asking her if she knew what desperado's was and if she did, why was she being so fucking inconsiderate...

Luckily, she did actually manage to draw us from the quilts due to the fact we did have open days to attend. As me and Jay nursed each other in the car on the way to Newcastle University, I wasn't overly sure what to expect. The course I was looking at for Newcastle wasn't quite what I'd thought, and although the buildings from the outside held stunning qualities, inside seemed a little shabby and run down. I can't say the course stood out to me, therefore I lost interest soon after that. Plus I had some hash browns at the S.U cafe and they tasted like cardboard, they were offensive. Students deserve good nosh, especially at posh uni's.

I have no words to even describe Northumbria University. The lecturer making the talk on the three Journalism courses offered, clearly had slim to no idea what she was even talking about. And the poor boy starting in September had questions for her she couldn't even begin to bullshit her way through without referring to a tatty piece of paper on her desk.

Prior to this we had to drop Jay off at 'Coach Lane Campus' which is situated just a hefty 10 minute drive from the town centre. Using the wonderfulness that is the iPhone 4 sat nav, we were taken through a council estate to a cut through to this delightful campus. I left Jay here feeling like it was the last time on earth I was ever going to see her little hungover face again; there was overgrown weeds surrounding a derelict playground, surrounded by derelict houses. I felt like I was going to contract some kind of disease asking the fat half naked lady where we were supposed to be going..

I've still not been to a university which has completely captured me just yet, I shall be waitttttting and bringing more updates as I go!

Thursday, 4 July 2013

An eagerly anticipated 'holiday'.

A weeks adventure out to the other side of Europe, no parental control, sweltering heat and a group of frenzied teenagers that you're reluctant to call your friends. To the average Joe (over the age of 30 and anyone even partially sane), this seems like the idea of a living hell, and I suppose retrospectively it's not far off.

This Summer I have the unfortunate privilege of taking myself off to Laganas, Zante. Which outside the months of May to September is a beautiful Greek Island situated in the Ionian sea, surrounded by deep teal waters and quietly reserved locals. But during these Summer months, Zante welcomes the majority of Britain's wild youths with open arms; arms filled with shots, things on fire and sex.

Inside my brain there's some sort of pre-Zante party occurring where I have visions of myself surrounded by beautiful ladies in bikinis feeding me Pina Colada's on the beach whilst fanning me with their tits... Just maybe.

After jetting off to the oh-so luxurious Kavos last year, I have learnt some very very pointless tips that you're probably not going to listen to or follow but I feel if I don't tell you now I'll feel responsible for keeping them to myself.

  1. Stay away, and I mean really far away, from FREE BARS
When a random stranger is screaming in your face '5 EUROS FREE ALCOHOL VODKA SEX VODKA YEAAAAAHHH', it's hard to A) decide what their native tongue is and B) wonder why your body is carrying yourself towards the voice.  Stay firmly out of the way of free bars.  Due how gullible we are these days, it doesn't matter how many shots of this eye-wateringly sugary syrup you down, you will not, by any means be getting drunk.

The best thing to do is find a smaller, usually quieter bar to start your evening with. Although it might be slightly more costly, everyone will look a million times more attractive than they did when you arrived, which is priceless when you're in competition to get a shag first.

    2. Always stick together; 2's or 3's or in your hundreds

I know the Mother Hen in me is becoming prominent. But after losing one of my friends, and after hours of running up and down the beach with one shoe on, screaming her name, solely to find her with her keks around her ankles in a fishing boat, it's pretty important that you don't let anyone (especially the slutty one) run away.

I suppose this relates more to girls, but if you wanna shag ladies, bring them back to your apartment. I'm 100% sure your friend doesn't mind waiting in the hallway (or the bathroom as it was my case) until you've finished doing the dirty. P.s - don't ask them to join in if you think it could be sufficiently awkward in the morning when the lad/lady has left and you and your friend wake up with your arse cheeks stuck to one anothers and your panties hanging from the chandelier.

   3. Don't be fooled by the over-friendly Promo people

They're usually well fit, it's their job to lure you into buying shitty tickets, to shitty nights with their huge tits, small bikinis and charming smiles. Don't fall into their appealing traps, or their cleavages because that can also prove difficult trying to get out of.

   4. Booze cruises

Be prepare to suck off bananas, lick nipples, dance half naked, intimately dance with the overweight man in speedos and drink tabasco. Super tip: DO NOT DIVE OFF BOAT IF YOU CAN'T, YOU WILL DIE (of embarrassment as the whole boat and what will feel like the whole world will be watching).

About Me

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Aspiring baby journalist, starting with a low key blog, mostly blogging for fun and because my social life depends on funds I do not have.
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