Chrissy's Teens, Casper and a little bit of ah Bisto!

Hello my merry readers!

Following from a recent, and very random, conversation I had with my sister, and as nobody seems to be suggesting any golden sort of path to my dream job, I have come up with a selection of the jobs that, in an ideal world, I would be amazing at. Prepare yourself, this is all kinds of clever!

A logical place to start (that's me- the logical queen!) is from whence (WHENCE is a great word) this whole thing began. Recently I've been working as an English Tutor and the main thing I've learnt, as well as that anything  a 12 year old boy finds funny I will too, is that the only pupils I get are boys. It is English tuition, I suppose. And I enjoy it. This got me to thinking that if the world in my imagination was real, I'd be Jo March and start my own school for boys.

I can just see us all: gathered around a big rustic oak table, me with a sensible outfit and nice hair bun, my German professor husband at the opposite end, our array of miscreant and mischievous boys in between. They'd be a messy, funny bunch and I'd teach them all sorts of lessons aside from their school subjects. How to apologise after a fight. How to treat a lady. How to become  a little gentleman. And we'd have all sorts of rollicks around the surrounding countryside, and trips out in the wagon, or on wild horses. And they'd be Chrissy's Teens, rather than Jo's Boys.


Come and learn, one and all!
 

Possible pitfalls: I'm not married to a German professor. (More's the pity) I don't have a rich relative likely to leave me her lovely old historic house upon her demise in order to start my school.

Plus points: It would be such fun! And Jo March has always been a bit of a similar character to me I think.

Should this obviously fool-proof plan not work out, I have several other options. Obviously.


Next on my list is the highly lucrative and useful occupation of being the supernatural element in a house/car/supermarket. There'd be a great audience for it. Everyone loves a good scare. Except me. But I AM the scary thing so that works out great! 
Picture the scene, friends. You show up at the haunted house and there's all sorts of crazy inexplicable things happen. Somebody knocks a chair over. You feel a shiver on your neck. You hear someone brewing an old-school kettle. You hear someone playing Guitar Hero...but no one turned the game on. Spoooooky!

So, obviously, there aren't going to be too many downsides to this role. Here's a few pitfalls and positives.

Positives: Getting to be mischievous for large parts of the day. Getting to sneak around in soft-soled shoes with or without a white sheet, depending on authenticity level needed. Not having to worry about your appearance/getting to dress in period costumes and getting to snoop around cool houses.

Pitfalls: Long, lonely hours. Spending so much time alone that you start singing 'Everytime' by Britney Spears and pretending you're in a music video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YzabSdk7ZA

 

   Should yet another brilliant scheme not work out, I have a plan three. One of my favourite things in this great and random world is the Roast Dinner. A British classic. Any family member or friend I've lived with can vouch for my obscene enjoyment of this Sunday treat. There was the time I was dared to drink a load of gravy. Obviously I was successful. There were the long years I was told off for my terrible dinner manners and eating speed on Roast Dinner day. What could be a better job for a maniac like me than being an official Roast Dinner taster?? Doesn't even have to be good quality, I'll eat any and happily mark it!

Picture it: I could while away my hours eating endless roast meats, the delicious nectar that is gravy, as much broccoli as my little heart might desire, and SO. MUCH. POTATO!!!!

Pitfalls: I will get really really fat. I will spend a large part of my life shouting "Ah Bisto!!!" to everyone's mutual chagrin. I might get sick of Roast Dinners? On second thought, no I won't. Ever.

  If even that genius plan doesn't happen, there's one more option (that I can think of today). The spotlight is calling me. Well, specifically, only one single spotlight is calling me. It is the spotlight of the Christmas TV Movie. The cheesier the better please. I can just see myself: Wearing red jumpers, sharing toasts with other shiny actors and actresses, listening to an endless stream of Christmas song covers, getting to be covered in fake studio snow all year round!!! What unparalleled delights for an  attention-seeking Christmas fanatic like myself. My range would be soooo diverse: elf, cupid, female Santa, Mrs Claus, unlucky in love Christmas fanatic, estranged mother/daughter looking for a reunion...the list is endless!

Positives: A constant supply of Christmas cheer, red jumpers and themed props.

Pitfalls: Constant exposure to plastic turkeys so if I risk the anger of a manorexic Brad Pitt wannabe on set it is the perfect murder weapon- blow to the head by plastic turkey. Oh boy, what a way to go!                                                                                
 So there you have it, guys and girls, four of my very possible job roles if my imagination could invent a need for these. If anyone has anymore options, I will consider. Until then:

Merry Christmas, my ghostly teens! I hope you enjoy it and many more Roast Dinners to go. Ah....Bisto.

A Conversation with the ChristineBot

Hello friends!

In the last few days, when I've been gripped by boredom, annoyance or when I've felt a little bit 'grim about the mouth', I've been playing with something I found on Facebook that has provided much hilarity. Using previous words you've written as statuses or comments on Facebook, it generates sentences that are supposed to be potential statuses for you. I'm not sure if this is a true reflection (it probably is) but every status it generates for me is absolute madness and nonsense. So, I thought it would be fun to interview myself and use only answers that were actual generations by the computer. Questions will be asked by me, answers given by my robot equivalent. Let hilarity ensue!

 Interview with the Christine Bot

C: I'm joined today by ChristineBot, and it has been a long time since we last spoke like this. Welcome, ChristineBot, How are you?

 CB: We come together cuz I'm dressed like a lovely purple colour though! Yep, indeedy, had a sad day thank you

C: Well, that's very true, I suppose. I'm sorry to hear you've had a sad day. 

CB:  You know you're right, great, but...

C: Okay... what are your thoughts on the current youth unemployment epidemic and the future consequences there might be of this?

CB:   I'm so just keep the suicide rate of grads in a 95% rate nice and yes, José, when Flat 8 do birthday parties, they're probably the end 

C: That seems a bit of a grim statistic...and probably a bit steep. I don't think all parties end in death. And my name isn't José.  Let's move on. What do you say to the ongoing reports of people 'trash dining', eating from dustbins? 

CB:  I'm having a piece lol

C: I can't believe you'd do that, ChristineBot. That's quite revolting! 

 CB: all you put me to be offended, the bear didn't say 

C: What bear is this? Sorry if I offended you CB... Can you tell us a bit about what you were like growing up? What did you do for fun? 

  CB: How I ask the landscapes! I didn't keep throwing it

C: Sorry? Don't think I understand. Are you saying you were a nature lover? 

CB:    I think I rocked gilets in these days too

C: Yes, gilets are very suitable outdoor wear, that's true.  What were your emotions like when you were leaving university for the last time? 

 CB: You know you're entering the finale, cry a lot, and still looking it's really nice!

C: Well that's definitely a very wise way of looking at things. You cried a lot? You most have been sad to leave your friends, were you? 

  CB:  Look how random my arms are!!!

C: Okay, okay, I get it, you don't like discussing your emotions. One thing I have heard about you a lot is that you love bargain shopping. Are the rumours true? 

CB:   You know me, Sir are a bit of kitchen roll 69p!! I was off to the shop, bought some balsamic vinegar!

 C: Sounds like you got some good bargains. Is there anything you've done lately that was enjoyable? 

CB: I think that perhaps the coolest thing: I've been flying so far, the car I underestimated... just thinking of him in Miranda, that programme after tom, poor lovely guy!

C: That sounds like fun...I think. Knowing you, there will have been a few embarassing moments lately. Any stand out occasions? 

CB:  I was walking and had a pig,  just got real soon as he got tangled up all chinese food.but if.you.ask the entirety of Buffy!

C: So...let me get this straight. You were walking a pig with the whole cast of Buffy and your pig got tangled in somebody's chinese food ?? You can't go anywhere without there being a disaster. 

CB:   I'll just have to go home...

C: That might be for the best. It's been a pleasure interviewing you, I hope you've had fun, Christine Bot?

CB: This was fabbity fab!

 

 So there you have it, thank you for listening. Everyone should try it and see if your robot is as messed up as mine is...seriously, she was like Brain dead horse from Family Guy... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkDRugEtvNM

To end on a jolly note, here's some pictures of funny dogs. Man, I love dogs.

 

 

Totally Topiary

 In a day that is darkened by debt, despair and a supposed hurricane in the U.K, it's important to look for the light hearted moments of life and so, as my own personal contribution to this noble aim, I have selected a few particularly outstanding topiary creations.

A much under appreciated art form, hedge sculpting is one of the more whimsical and hilarious things in this wonderfully weird world.

So, I present to you, totally topiary!

Thought it was a proud and long career for the Beatles, their greatest moment has to be being immortalised in topiary form. Once they were done asking us to 'Please please me' and proclaiming 'I am the Walrus' the next logical step was to become commemorated in hedge form. Noteable absence of Ringo from the drums?

 "What does the fox say?"

Although there have been many possible suggestions given by Ylvis, unfortunately we aren't going to discover what the dear ginger creature has been longing to say because the fox is now a hedge.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jofNR_WkoCE

 You don't have to travel to the far corners of Westeros to chance a glance at a dragon anymore. It's not just Miss Stormborn who has access. The lucky gardener of this dragon can feel like a Slayer every time they maintain the dragon's short back and sides crop.






Somewhere in his ever unquenchable quest for honey, this cheeky bear has found himself turned into a forever memorial of optimism. I shall think of him always as singing '99 Luftballoon', longing to fly away from his prison of shrubbery.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lur-SGl3uw8

 I couldn't not include my favourite Disney princess as she dances with dear Charming. Forever dancing in her magic dress, before the pumpkin explosion morning after.

While I have you here: is anyone else alarmed that although Aurora has Phillip and Ariel has Eric, Cinderella and Snow White both have Charming?? Ouch!

 "Don't you want me Baby?" "Hello, is it me you're looking for?" A mascot for all of us Beasts out there, a topiary reminder that sometimes you can be a hybrid monster with amazing strength and a pretty bad temper but people can still manage to capture you and forever make you into an inanimate hedge creature before you have a chance to escape?

On that note, imagine the job of the gardener at Disney World, one minute you're shearing the Beast's beard, the next you get distracted and chop off Mickey's head.

 This little panda has two clear purposes.

1. To remind everyone of that amazing Youtube video that can make even the stoniest of cad have a chuckle. You know which one I mean.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzRH3iTQPrk

2. To be placed in front of reluctant pandas in zoos as a means of encouraging them to get knocked up so they too can have cute little Mini Me hedge babies.

Good work.

This guy has the right idea. Run away from the horrors of hedge prisons. Or maybe he is just running away from this somewhat pointless blog post. I shall leave this open to debate.

Hope that was interesting for some people.

Dear Potential Employer/Recipient of Baked Goods

Dear Potential Employer,

I write to you another letter. Before you disregard it, cackle about my lack of experience, or-heaven forbid!- delete it without reading (rendering this letter completely useless), please take a moment to pause.

Sit back, relax in your wheelie chair, and let me tell you why, in fact, I would be your dream employee.

Growing up in a small village in rural Northern Ireland isn't exactly a recipe for success in finding a good job, with a reputable company such as yours (I hope you are a fan of flattery always working). Neither is being caught in the vicious Circle of Death (NOT Life) of "You have no experience. We can't give you experience. Because you have no experience." I'm sure you are familiar. Indeed, the internet is about the only tool left in my arsenal of weapons (I was once nicknamed Buffy, due to a particularly fine backpack considered ideal for vampire hunting). So I write to you now, longing to be a part of the excellent machine that is your company. I only ask to be a little cog. Necessary, but along the lines of a Victorian Child, seen but not heard complaining.

I suppose you might be wondering about my key skills and, my favourite word, experience. Well, let me tell you, whoever spread this horrible rumour that I have no experience, was a little bit barmy with a side order of mean.

It might interest you to hear a few of my key skills and experiences.

• I was once told that "If you smile, no one could refuse you anything." So I think the problem is not my lack of experience. You just haven't seen my smile. And no, it wasn't my mother that told me this so I think that deserves an extra bonus point.

• I am an excellent inventor and general conoisseur of creativity. I am the designated story composer for the live action bonanza that is the Zoo game, often played at  school or church events. In primary school I invented a game called the Ketchup Kids, that had a very entertaining condiment style Bahktanian humour bit. I also invented an elaborate back story for myself, involving a tennis court, Daddy and a horse, when people at school in the sticks called me 'Posh.' I'm not Posh. In the slightest. 

•  I speak several languages. Ein bisschen Deutsch, un peu Francais y un poco Espanol. I also briefly learnt Japanese...until I realised I was the worst artist ever and my letters all looked like sad ponies. I am, however, extremely good on Paint. I am excellent at communicating with different cultures as well. I once got followed in Germany by a crazy Italian man, shouting the names of pasta at me. I handled this with all the grace and poise you could ever want. I also went on the German exchange, and while in the school, managed to avoid cheering when the British planes swooped onto the screen of the war documentary we were watching. I obviously have a lot of tact. 
• I am an enthusiastic and often accurate cook. I love to shout 'Hey Presto!' and enthusiastically add pinches of spice left, right and centre. I also enjoy many different cuisines and have been known to prove my perserverance by eating curries a little too hot for me but managing to finish through distraction and mass water drinking. I have references proving this if needed. 
• I am completely adaptable. If my sisters told me to move seats as a teenager, I usually legged it quite fast. I also have been known to fetch drinks upon request. 
• I can lift surprisingly heavy people. Always useful. 
• I once considered completing the Cinnamon Challenge...but had the intelligence to know that that was a very very bad idea.
• When there is a lot of wind outside, I always manage to hold my ground. That's right, I hold my ground in difficult situations.
• People have been known to seek my advice on a range of expertise topics. How do I use a computer? How do I send an email? How do I not accidentally order 20 of something when I mean to order one? (Okay, all of those were my mother's questions). 

• I'm not afraid of a good dress-up session. I currently own an adult size Cinderella costume. And I'm not scared of using it. 
• I have never been late handing in an assignment, even when I published my own magazine, Slugworth Chronicle , written about and for my collection of hedgehog toys.

• I am a frequent traveller, with a great ability of locating local food in foreign countries. I am a genius at fitting lots of mini bottles into one plastic bag.I've only set a scanner beeping once, and it's still a mystery why.  And I've only ever lost one watch while going through security. And that was in pursuit of an intelligent well-read Brazilian man so you'll forgive me. 

I have experience in a lot of things, despite my age being 22, and I think this is a fact overlooked by a lot of employers in today's economic climate. And isn't great talent and desire to work hard more important than someone with a bad performance at a job hated who has the needed experience?

I, and many of my young unemployed or underemployed contemporaries, have experienced a vast many things.

We are a generation who have felt the dizzy highs of hopes and the damning lows of rejection. "If you prick us, do we not bleed?"

So, my dear Potential Employer, if you want someone who will work hard for you, who will bring you something a bit unique, and will dazzle you with her hopeful smile, then please consider me for your position/internship/cult.

Yours Sincerely,
QOTR

Chicken Alanna, Vintage Tractors and Progress at last

 Hello All,
As frequent readers of this blog may be aware, I have a tendency to talk about a load of nonsense. Usually this is as a kind of filler when nothing of any real interest is happening in my life. Because, as you'll also be aware, sometimes things happen, usually lots at once (something about boys and buses here...) and these events, though not particularly monumental tend to resemble Lemony Snicket's 'Series of Unfortunate(ly) (Awkward) Events. This entry, I am happy to report, is one with no needed nonsense. 100% pure real life happenings. I'm sure you cannot wait.

Iron Throne

So, June has been quite an eventful month, in almost entirely good ways. First of all, the Game of Thrones exhibit came to Belfast- this was very exciting as we never get any of the cool tours in this part of the U.K, and this time it was only us that got it!! This is due to the filming of a majority of the show being right here in this little piece of land. Apparently they're filming right now...the temptation to grab some buddies and try and encounter them while they're out and about is a strong one....watch this space.

I know, Keith, I can't believe it either

Secondly, finally some progress on the job hunt. And it's the best possible company ever. BBC. They've decided I've got something...I get to go to training in a few weeks with some really cool people and we are being given the chance to work as runners on sets. I couldn't think of anything more wonderful. Of course, this has reawakened a competitive beast. I want to succeed. I want to be good at it. I want to make it onto the next level. Now just to prove that although I don't have as much experience as the other 149 people, I really do have a unique me-ness to share.

Thirdly, my sister was over visiting and there were some random happenings. When we went for lunch in this cool furniture store in the next town over, we had one of those moments where you have to stifle laughter pretty unaffectively. While waiting to order, the couple in front of us asked what all food was in the display. The lady behind the counter replied in what can only be described as a Mickey Mouse voice- squeaky, cartoon like, totally worthy of frequent imitations. She proceeded to list the food and there seemed to be a frequent theme. Chicken. All the chicken in the nearby area must have crossed the wrong people. And they'd got their comeuppance...apparently.

This is what they had (imagine in a hilarious high pitched voice): Chicken curry, Chicken Alana, Chicken and Broccoli Bake, Chicken and Peach Bake...never fear Veggies, they had Quiche.

Broken Doll. Chic.

On Friday we proceeded to go for a beach day to Newcastle, N.I. A trip to Newcastle is never complete without a ramble around the boardwalk path, taking nutty pictures. We decided it was the perfect opportunity for an America's Next Top Model style pose off. Needless to say, we won't be qualifying for the show any time soon....

But boy did we have fun.

Two Pointers- dog passenger with red neck scarf

Brace yourself, all. The highlight of the Waringstown social calendar. Well, actually, it's pretty much the only event on the entire year long calendar. It's literally just this. Last Friday in June. Vintage car cavalcade.

Unfortunately, in rural Co. Down, the main specimen of vintage vehicle appears to be the vintage tractor. Over half of the 100s were tractors. Ah country life... There were some pretty cool things though and my sister and I came up with a bonus point scoring system. Extra point if your outfit matches your vehicle. Extra point if your baby is strapped onto your tractor. Extra point if you have a dog on board. Two extra points if both you and your dog match your vehicle. And so on etc. etc.

It really brought out all the glorious specimen of residents here. There were 99 ice creams, barely legal tail gating and almost the entirety of the Co Down Young Farmer's Club present. It's times like these that I really find myself thinking 'Gee, I'm glad I'm not away in Spain like I normally am this time of year.' You may detect some sarcasm here.

However, I have rather enjoyed June and I hope that July will bring me some equal delights. Tomorrow I am going hiking. Watch out, Mournes!

Fashion Choices for the Unfashionable

Today I'm going to impart some wisdom to you all. If you know me you probably know I'm not the most fashionable of chicas. I wear tracksuits, I don't ever style my hair, I only own two pairs of high heels, I've never worn fake eyelashes or fake tan. On the internet these days, there are a vast and uncountable parade of blogs about who's hot and who's not, what's chique and what's not and it got me to thinking: There's no blog for us left-footed people of the dressing world. There's no blog for those of us who don't really try and be fashionable. As Coco Chanel says, "Fashion is made to become unfashionable." So I figure, let's skip the middle fashionable stage and go straight to the 'Yeah....it's unfashionable already' stage. I bring to you, fashion choices for the unfashionable.



This fetching style of exuberant horizontal strips of colour, combined with trousers made from a raincoat style material, can be easily accessorised with au natural curls (with no recognisable parting), necklaces inspired by tribes of Papoa New Guinea, belts to keep that elongated crotch pouch attached and secure (so nobody sees your gentleman's business) and a subtly placed advertising strategy for Pepsi. If possible, this style will work best if you have an identical twin and two willing identical twins of the opposite gender that you can co-ordinate best with. Because it's not enough to have matching faces.


This young lady is demonstrating that it's okay to take your love of Billy Ray Cyrus to another level entirely. Denim on denim is perhaps the most tantalising of combinations. She's gone for a rather modest white vest top, which Billy Ray has jazzed up into being rather more of a chest barer. Denim on denim is a very flexible style: the two denims don't have to match. Sometimes it's a case of: more clash=more street credibility. Basically you can play it safe, or you can go the extra mile and incorporate fringing, rhinestones and a frightened and dubious facial expression. A word to the public, don't mock somebody who has the guts for double denim. Or you might break their 'Achey Breaky Hearts.'

 A style which has been synonymous with comfortable tourism fashion has to be the glorious combination of Socks and Sandals! The terrible twosome: Ben and Jerry, Mary Kate and Ashley, Mickey and Minnie. Even if the weather's scorching hot, there's no need to actually use sandals in the way they were intended! Why have your feet bare to circulating air when you could trap them into socks so they get nice and sweaty? Plus side: you don't need to make your feet part of your 'summer body', they can look like a hairy banana if you so desire them. A fashion choice for the morally conscious: it's highly immoral for a lady to show her ankles. Newsflash: It doesn't matter about the rest of the legs, wear hotpants and nobody will bat an eyelash but show your ankles *shudders* you're a harlot! Here  is the perfect solution, and hey, less chance of a blister when wearing those new sandals for the first time. Ring a ding ding.

Don't listen to the cats.












For the larger gentleman or lady, a style which always goes down well with you and your loved ones: the redneck. Although in actual fact I probably am a bit of a hick...well, a British hick (a brick??) there's something about a ponytailed man with an ensemble which screams "Too small! Too small!" that really can bring a girl to her knees screaming "Why, red necks, why??" If you wish to try this subtle and understated style you will need: long, unwashed looking hair, a baseball cap that doesn't fit your head, a cut-off Lumberjack style checkard shirt (the length of a crop top), a t-shirt with a provocative slogan (also the length of a crop top), a protruding stomach which you pat from time to time as if you are carrying a baby (not just 10 years of holiday fat), jeans with no real shape or defining features, and of course, a six pack of cheap beer in your hand. Before you get to thinking it could be pricey to put together this ensemble, relaaaax! Just get really fat...then all your clothes will shrink away in terror from your stomach anyway! 

Do you ever find a jumper pattern you just really enjoy?? Well if you do, buy in bulk!!! The ultimate trade mark of us unfashionable is to bulk buy one thing and over-wear that one thing until everybody we've ever met has seen us in it at least ten times. Sometimes you find a sweater which just happens to be in every size imaginable!! When this is the case, guess what?? You can buy it for all your family! Then you can all wear it together for family fun times together. Hot damn! And you know what? They'll all really thank you for the matching.  If you find a sweater with a suitable bold and colourful design, it's best to keep the bottoms in a mute singular tone. You don't want to look....clashing, right?



The most beloved item of the middle-aged woman. The Mum/Mom Jeans. An essential item for your wardrobe, they are characterised by their above waist waistline, their tightly belted waist, their ability to make even a slim women look like she has a hugh pelvis region, their accompaniment with tucked into tops (of course) and their disappointing ankle finish which culminates in either: 1. An above ankle length or 2. A ballooning effect to disguise your ankles from the world.

Wearers of the Mum Jeans are usually elsewise characterised by their sensible handbags, their sensible shoes and the most beloved of all Mum related things: The Mum Run. You might have seen them, women in a hurry, women rushing to cross the road before the lights change, women taking children to taekwondo and tap dancing. The Mum Run basics: Your legs have to move really quickly. Like in a cartoon when the character is about to move and their legs blur and there's a lot of smoke. Although your legs are moving quickly though, your arms have to stay at your sides, as if you have weights on the end. You're in a hurry, but nobody needs to know that! The illusion of a casual walk is brilliantly created by the still arms. Genius. Mum Running is not just for Mums. Oh no. A few young ladies of my acquaintance can vouch for our own accidental transition into Mum Runners for our own stresses and worries. The difference being, we feel the after shame. True Mum Runners do not.

 So, I've tried to give you a few suggestions readers. The most important thing about being unfashionable is to cause this face
<<<<<<<<<<<< to happen at least once a day when people see your ensemble.

Also you should note, my unfashionable friends, we are not alone in this. 8 out of 10 people quite enjoy an unfashionable day or two. Here's a secret: we're the normal ones!!! We know what we like and we aren't afraid to be bold enough to wear it. We are fashion. We are ingenuity. We are.....
probably really very unfashionable. But I love you anyway :)

And you look great. 

Mhysa serious?? (And other terrible plays on words)

Hello My Leiblings...or something equally full of adoration and delight.

To celebrate (or rather mourn) the conclusion of another season of Game of Thrones, it seemed only fitting to this writer to find out which wonderful character she was most like. I thought maybe I might have the comedic stylings of Tyrion Lannister, the shrewd suspicion of most other women of Cersei, but let's be honest, I had my fingers crossed for the Mother of Dragons, and my home girl, Daenarys Targaryen. She's been my favourite character since I started reading the books, and she's brave, caring, feminine and strong: all the things I aspire to be.

Needless to say, my results was none of the above.

Sansa. Sansa Stark.

Seriously?? She's a bit of a wimpy girly weak character, isn't she? That result was a bit of a slap in the face, let me tell you!

For those not familiar with her ways, A Wiki of Ice and Fire describes her as "She was raised a lady, and possesses the traditional feminine graces of her milieu, with a keen interest in music, poetry, singing, dancing, embroidery, and other traditional feminine activities. Like many girls her age, Sansa is enthralled by songs and stories of romance and adventure, particularly those depicting handsome princes, honorable knights, chivalry, and love.<sup>"

That's all quite pretty and nice but she never gets any of the best lines, or the action sequences, she's more of a passive recipient of Joffrey's absolute asshole-ry and people's leud comments. 

Needless to say, I wasn't all that enthralled to receive that result, so I tried another quiz just to see if I got a different result. 

I didn't. 

Apparently I am, and can only be, a Sansa Stark. 

See for yourself, here's my two quiz results:</sup> 

http://www.buddytv.com/personalityquizresult/game-of-thrones-personalityquizresult.aspx?result=500000597&ucid=801262464&newResult=1

http://www.helloquizzy.com/results/the-game-of-thrones-character-test-1/?var_Bravery=1&var_Insanity=5&var_Anger=4&var_Pride=8&fromCGI=1&var_Morality=12&var_Extroversion=16&var_Intelligence=0&var_Scheming=15&var_Stoicism=5&var_Vanity=8&var_Hardworking=5&var_Humor=9&var_Sexuality=3&var_Loyalty=8&var_Debauchery=2&var_Kindness=9&var_Family-Orientedness=11&var_Violence=2

What did any of you get? I'd love to hear that maybe the test was rigged, and EVERYBODY is Sansa Stark. Maybe??

Anyway, my thoughts on the season finale. "Why is the rum gone??" Or rather, "Why is Game of Thrones gone??" :( I'll really miss the casual maiming of an Ironborn, the puns of a Lannister on the beginning  of his bedding ceremony, the burning of slave masters by the wonderful dragons, Daenarys sacking cities and becoming a mother to a nation, Cersei's passive aggressive comments about indecent exposure in Margery Tyrell, Sam becoming the first White Walker slayer in 1000s of years, and, of course, that time one of the Unsullied got his nipple hacked off on live TV.

I won't miss the Freys being snivelly little gits, Red Wedding feasts, people playing the Lord of Castamere- that never ends well, the Stark family nearly seeing each other but missing every time, Direwolves being killed- Stop the Direwolf cruelty!!

What I'm most looking forward to in next season. Joffrey's wedding feast(Not because I want to wish him well on his wedding day but because of something else that happens *giggles gleefully*),  the dragons growing up, Daenary's new romance with a certain hunky man, Tyrion when he gets handy with a crossbow.

Game of Thrones, you shall be missed indeed.

Oh yeah....why did I get Sansa Stark???

The 50th blog post/ The three things I really don't want to hear today

Here we are, readers. We've made it to the big 5-0. Not age, I'm not quite there yet. But my 50th blog post. In some ways this seems like a lot, but in others it  doesn't seem like much at all. Considering where I was when I wrote that very first post and where I am now, many things have changed. When I started the blog I was full of direction, inspiration, joie de vivre- surrounded by friends and family and full of excitement for all my travel adventures to come. Now, I am somewhat directionless and lonesome, being hundreds of miles from most of my friends and family, without a real job and without much changing. You've probably noticed the decline of the frequency of my blog posts. This is a sorry shame. I always thought when things picked up a bit I'd start writing again...but things never really picked up.

Now, that's not to say that some wonderful things haven't happened from the start until now, I've met amazing people, I've seen lots of new things and done lots of new things, I've experienced a lot of things both fantastically great and horrifyingly low. And I've grown (not just around the waist). But I can't help missing the optimistic girl at the start. And I'm determined to get her back somehow.

Anyway, I've made it to 50...and here's to another inspired 50 posts of embarassing dancing, and strange encounters, and new places and a bit of sunshine (hopefully).

The point of today's post is to highlight a few things that I, and probably a lot of you too, don't want to hear these days.

1) The Guardian did a survey of all current graduates looking for jobs. The results were as I expected. We're all going through the same depressing farce. 25% of us have lost out on jobs we want, due to 'lack of experience.' This brings me to the first thing I don't want to hear. Every single job, in the hundreds I've applied for in the last 6 months, has ended with the same inevitable result. I've passed tests (even numerical), I've submitted CVs. I've gone to interviews. The final feedback is always the same: "We liked you but another candidate was more experienced for the role."
This really frustrates me. These are jobs advertised as first job positions. Jobs geared towards graduates. Job advertisments which say 'No previous experience required. Full training provided.'. The sheer magnitude of applications mean, however, that they are able to add further boundaries because somewhat over experienced people are going for these jobs as well, due to a never diminishing over-subscribed job market. I get it, honestly I do. I accept the fact that others are more qualified than me and deserve the job more. What I don't get is how you go about getting the experience needed. Because nobody hires without experience!!! 'Internships?' I hear you ask. Alas, according to the Guardian, another sizeable chunk of us found that unless you know somebody in the business, or have a relative working there, you aren't going to get in. Brilliant.


2) The second thing I really don't want to hear is "The orchid's dead, move on." Since a very kind friend gifted me with some beautiful purple orchids at a dinner party in March, I've been caring for them like they are my child. I've been watering them with tepid water (the instructions said TEPID), I been monitoring their moistness (MOIST) to make sure I don't over-water, and I've been moving them from room to room, and climate to climate, to ensure they have variety in their day to day life. And so far, much to my immense surprise, they've survived and they're healthy. I think they've become a social experiment for me. Keeping them alive is proving that I am not incompetent. That I can do something successful. It's a necessary component for my remaining optimism. So the day I hear, "The orchid's dead, move on" will be the day I officially give up. Maybe it's like the rose in Beauty and the Beast. Except I'm less mean (and less furry). If the last petal drops, I'll be stuck this way forever! But does that mean I won't age?? Because I really wouldn't mind that.

3) The third thing I really don't want to hear is 'Looks like snow's on the way again'. I'm a patient woman. That's a fact. If you remember my post last year about our current weather being much colder than other countries at this time of year (http://au-where.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/here-comes-sun.html) I wrote my complaint last year while it was still April, so obviously things had cheered up by this time of the year. It's a week until June. JUNE. This time last year, because I remember it was when my sister was visiting for Eurovision (http://au-where.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/nil-pointsbut-big-love.html) for the last time I saw her before she became a Californian Girl, we were sunbathing. SUNBATHING. In shorts! In England! It was literally high 20s! This year- it isn't even scraping mid-teens. And according to the weather people (not to be mistaken with the Village People http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InBXu-iY7cw- sorry, I have to sing that. Every time. Part of my own personal Constitution.) there could be snow in places in the U.K this weekend?? What??? I've gone so long without sun that my skin has become a dangerously white colour, the equivalent of Voldemort. Not an exaggeration.If I develop a snake's nose, you'll know something a tad more sinister is going on. It's gotten to that point that it usually gets to in mid-Winter where you think "I can't honestly imagine it ever being sunny again." Except that emotion has been continuing for about 8 months now. I haven't gone out without a jacket since mid-September. Wow.

What I saw when I smiled in the mirror this morning

So there you have it, crew. Sorry, that sounded a bit nautical, guess I shouldn't have watched the entire 'In the Navy' music video there
"I'm afraid of waaaater!"

Those are the three things I really don't want to hear today. What do you not want to hear? Do let me know. Unless of course it's "She's posted another blog, oh crud!"

QOTR

Listen world wide! Better yet, take a picture of me with a Kodak!

I've decided something this morning. Bear in mind, this will most likely only be a phase but, for now:
If you could think of a way which ensured you were entirely distinctive, memorable and just downright charming, wouldn't you do anything to make sure you could maintain that way of life? Exactly! Well, guys and girls, I know what I'm going to do. If any of you savvy geniuses that read my blog (which is obviously all of you!) have noticed by the title of this entry, I am taking inspiration from one Senor Pitbull, or Armando Christian Pérez as his mother calls him, or Armie as I call him when we're alone ;)

What I've noticed this morning, as I tried to break up the mundanity of a Friday in the house, when the weather STILL hasnt breached 10 degrees, (in APRIL!) is that listening to Pitbull can make me feel exceedingly and unexpectedly chipper. This isn't just because I love rapping, or because he has an insane way of making you feel like part of the party, but because his rather famous way of shouting various accolades and delights at the start of a song seems to not only make him laugh but also makes me want to laugh along with his delightfully boyish chortle.

I'll give you an example of some of his most well-known PSJ, or pre-song jargon as it's known in full. Should I copyright this?? I just google searched and no one else has ever used this term on the internet. Sweeet, Pre-Song Jargon is now officially mine- but that's neither here nor there, sorry Pitbull!

"Me not working hard?
Yeah, right, picture that with a Kodak
Or better yet, go to Times Square
Take a picture of me with a Kodak
Took my life from negative to positive
I just want y'all to know that
And tonight, let's enjoy life
Pitbull, Nayer, Ne-yo, Tesra"

(the PSJ of 'Give Me Everything')

 "To these rappers I apologize, I know it ain't fair
Only ball I drop, New Years Times Square
The world is mine, sixth sense, I see the seven signs
Now baby, let's get started for life"

(the PSJ of 'Get It Started')

"You don't get them girls loose loose (TJR!)
You don't get the world loose loose
You don't get money move move
But I do I do
You don't get them girls loose loose
You don't get the world loose loose
You don't get money move move
But I do I do

I said, y'all having a good time out there"


(the PSJ of 'Don't Stop the Party')


Now, I'm not saying his PSJ is the dreams of a post-deconstructionalist modernist bongo-banging poetry reading, but it has the carefree jokey banter of a warm up act at a comedy stand up, of a drunk Uncle's speech at a wedding, of an extremely sassy and funny rapper- and I really dig this!


So, that's why I decided I was going to take to following a few Pitbull lessons in my conversation, and I have listed these for your much needed benefit also. You're welcome.



1. It's both a handy way to remind an acquaintance of your name, and a good way to make an entrance into a room, by announcing your name like a slogan.
Here's a scene where it could be used:
Person 1: What a fab party we are having
Person 2: Yes, so fab!
Person 1: There's that girl/boy, what's her/his name again?
Person 2: I do believe I've forgotten as well
You (for example purposes you are called Joey): Listen room, it's me again, hahaahahaha, JOEY!
Person 1 and 2: Ehhhhhhh Joey! You rock!

Perfection.

2. You're trying to chat up a really dreamy boy/girl in a club, but you're having a mental block so that all you can think of is the lyrics to your favourite children song?  No problemo, amigo! Take a lesson from Pitbull again. Think you can remember the word 'sexy'? You're sorted! Pitbull used the song 'If you're happy and you know it' replacing the word happy with 'sexy'...obviously!
Here's an example for you, feel free to use it Chief!
"Baa  Baa SEXY sheep, have you any wool?" Not having the desired effect? Here's another one
"This little SEXY went to market, this little SEXY stayed at home, this little SEXY had roast beef, and this little SEXY had none, and this little SEXY said "Hey Joey, you're so funny, can I have your number?"

You scored!

3. A little bit of self confidence goes a long way. Let's face it. You're great. Who wouldn't want you, amigo? Take a lesson from my main man, and here I use the example of the song 'I Know You Want Me'- the proof is in the pudding (or title, as this case is). This song, coincidentally, for those lucky enough to have witnessed me in Second Year of Uni, in my own livingroom (that limits it down a bit!) is a great little number for busting some major ballroom dancing moves with your nearest massively enthusiastic Bruno Tanioli adjacent friend!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3_WBVgpoC0 

WATCH THE VIDEO!

A few points to learn from the actual video
*Look fresh, preferably in a large black overcoat and sunglasses inside
*If you're not sure if she ACTUALLY wants you, laugh it off. 'Do you remember me? Mr World Wide?'
'No....'
'Hahahaahah! I know you want me.'
*Be so confident that they all want you that you can slouch with your hands in your pockets and shrug whenever they come near to you.
*Make sure everyone knows you can communicate in at least two languages. Bi-linguality is the best!

I hope you all learnt some things

4. Final point, never forget where you came from or who your collaborators are. Pitbull always announces his collaborators at the PSJ of a duet, people matter. Haters gonna hate, Pitbull learnt a lot of lessons of coming from nothing and becoming incredibly successful. I think this is highlighted in his song 'Back In Time' and if you ever find yourself in a verbal stand-off with some little skunky punk, I recommend you shout these lyrics at them (with your shades on to hide your tears)

"Ok, I'm tryin' make a billion out of 15 cents
Understand, understood
I’m a go-getter, mover, shaker, culture, bury a boarder, record-breaker won’t cha
Give credit where credit is due don’t cha
Know that I don't give a number two
Y'all just halfway thoughts
Not worth the back of my mind
But to understand the future we have to go back in time"

Finally, always have the last laugh. No matter what happens. You can counteract anything by a little bit of counting and a big joyful chortle
"Hahahaah!"
 

A Little Smog and a damn good Blog!

 From my unpenetrable Lair of Quirk, I write to you as one woman with her hat off. I have removed my hat, in this case a flat cap, and have it eschewed against my jumper like a Victorian chimney sweep when Sir Jollington VI walks past. A single tear has left a white track down my blackened young chimney-sweeping face as I think in my head, 'Bravo, London, bravo'. Because, fellows, I have just returned two days ago from the social highlight of my 2013 so far. Not that there has been much competition. But oh, the ball I have had! :D

The scene was set for a good time, with a very jolly and thorough Heathrow delay. After struggling to land for upwards of 20 minutes, we were told upon landing that our steps were broken and we had to stay onboard. For an indefinite time. That was a barrel of laughs. Once I entered the airport, I made my way to the underground station. My dear pal Hannah was coming from the opposite end of Heathrow so I set out to wait. Unfortunately a ridiculous amount of delays happened her end so I was hovering like a lurking lurker for over an hour. Luckily, my 'puppy dog playing a game' face encouraged other arriving tourists to seek my advice about my 'native town' of London. I guess standing next to the arrivals board was a bad idea, I was tempted to hip jut and gesture at it and say 'I know how to commute, ask me how!' Still, I like to think I was able to help the Spanish ladies make the local phone call. And my fizzing coke bottle provided some lively entertainment for a French school group.

Stay at Premiere Inn. They match beds to your PJs.

Eventually Hannah made it, and by chance we had both been looking for each other and opposite ends so turned at the same time and saw each other, while some clanging 80s saxophone chimed. Reunited (phew!) Crannah made their way to the underground and began their journey.

As a tube pro, it was a stress free commute to our delightful Stratford Premiere Inn, with a view of the Olympic Park. We used a self- service check in machine (SELF- SERVICE!!! It printed out our room keys and everything!!) and made our way to the lifts, me jigging with glee for the chance to exploit a hotel room, declaring "This is one of the true pleasures of my life!"

It was delightfully clean and well-laid out and I did the following testing.
1. Bed bounce test
2. Free biscuit check (none :( )
3. Free coffee check (two sachets!)
4. Travel kettle (yes!)
5. Bathroom products (Foamburst shower gel dispenser- score!)
6. TV working (Freeview channels)
7. View (car park and edge of Olympic stadium, and sometimes a lardy builder looking back at me)
8. Trouser press (none)
9. Spare stuff (two pillows, lots of towels.)
10. Reading room service/restaraunt menu (Burgers? Burgers in a meal deal? BURGERS!)
11. The Miranda two moves to kettle from bed dance (Successful in one teddy bear roll and a finger press)

Everything to my satisfaction, we decided to head on down for some dinner. Burgers and (triple-fried) chips- yummy! Summer fruit and jelly sundae for dessert- jolly roger! Returning to our room, we watched almost the entirety of comic relief in our PJs. Well, until David Tennant was trying to guilt trip us and we reached an angry limit!

Saturday morning: the reason we were there. Day One of the Country2Country festival in the 02- that's right, the U.Ks first ever Country Music festival. Stopping for a croissant and coffee breakfast and a Pizza Express lunch (my pizza- gorgonzola and leek- had an ACTUAL HOLE in the middle stuffed full of salad- two meals in one!) we made our way to the arena for an all day American country town explore and music revelation.

Us and a Pilgrim Choice cowboy

The Pilgrim Choice cheddar cowboys were about.So, of course, we had to get our picture taken with him. And we also posed in a photo booth wearing cowboy hats for the chance of winning a month's supply of cheese. Obviously. With a quirky start, we explored the cowboy boot, gingham and hat stalls, and the dozens of international food stalls. Enjoying an incredibly MOIST piece of coconut blondie, we anticipated our actual concert.

It was amazing. We found people like us, of all imaginable generations, crazy for country, wacky for western! As a testament to this: queue back to tube, mass crowds singing along to 'Jolene' and middle aged and elderly women and men wearing cowboy hats and spangly boots.

Festival main stage

The actual acts were all amazing. The atmosphere was intense with anticipation and joy and disbelief for what was actually happening. Actual violins and banjos getting played on a live stage, people rocking out on guitars and singing with their souls. We were satisfied campers.

The next morning, Sunday, we woke up to another day of delights to be had. We made our way into the Westfield centre for dinner and had a sudden filling of dread. Were all the shops shut until 12?? Could we not get any breakfast? But alas we went to a crepery and had a crepe and coffee for a few pounds. I had a Canadian crepe- my first ever real taste of bacon and syrup combined. I think, after all, I could easily be Canadian! I also learnt an important lesson: Macchiatto is actually just a really small coffee. Gutted.

Me in Zizzi with my beer

We headed towards London Bridge for some sight seeing: we stopped for a frolic around the Globe theatre, some superb river views, a look at HMS Belfast, which was reverberating with Irish music to celebrate St. Patrick's day, and eventually we managed to find the bridge, though it took a surprising effort! We had lunch in the GORGEOUS Italian restaraunt Zizii- why do we not have it in N.I?? Gorging ourselves on delicious garlic bread with cheese and balsamic onions and a delicious lasagne/chicken, red pepper and goat's cheese pizza, I ordered a beer and was told 'Excellent choice!' It was bliss eating yummy food and watching the river flow past us. That sounds so metaphorical!

An obviously drunk man got on a tube and said "I just need a few pounds so I can get off the streets, guys." We ignored him. We are soooo London!

Heading back to the O2 arena, we stopped for another coffee break in Costa and enjoyed the build up to the next stage of the festival. Now on good speaking terms with the couple next to us who had been there the previous evening, we had a nice chat and awaited our wonderful acts. As a personal show highlight: we saw LeAnn Rimes performing on stage and fulfilled a childhood dream since Coyote Ugly came out in 2000, we got to sing along with 'Can't Fight the Moonlight'. Dreams can come true! LeAnn nearly cried, and we did too. In other news, Brantley Gilbert was delectably good at being both Metal and Country. Carrie Underwood is apparently a performer that triggers multiple girl fights if the number of women being escorted out from the stadium is anything to go by. And Hootie and the Blowfish's own Hootie, Darius Rucker, is an awesome dancer and got us all singing along to 'Family Tradition' by Hank Williams Jr., country royalty himself!

With the festival over there was a sense of sadness but also a real sense of gladness for having gone to it. It's definitely back next year and we can't wait! It was awesomely good.

Monday morning, we packed our bags and checked out, heading into the centre for some more sight seeing. We hit all the main sights, though Buckingham Palace disappeared off the map while we were looking for it, so we didn't make it there! Our dream of becoming Mary Kate and Ashley in 'Winning London' will have to wait until next year, when we've acquired colour lensed sunglasses and tartan trousers.

We went for lunch to a Chinese all you can eat buffet, where the food was nice, but they hid us in a creepy backroom, forced us to drink fizzy water and shouted at us until we paid them extra. Such fun!

Goodbye until next year, London!

We went to King's cross to get our picture at Platform 9 and three quarters, but discovered a line of tourists paying to have their picture and decided that, surprisingly, we were actually too cool for something. Heading back to Heathrow early, there's nothing like an hour and a half squeezed onto a tube where the driver keeps repeating 'We do not have a final destination for this tube yet.' to get you in the mood for going back home.

I give my trip to London a 9 and a half out of 10- only thing that would have made it better would be if Carrie Underwood's promised 'very special guest' had bothered to show up and had bothered to be Brad Paisley.

In other news, last night I fell asleep and weird stuff happened. You've heard of sleep walking? Of sleep talking? I take things to a whole new level of cray-cray. As a child, I woke up multiple times at exactly 12AM to be sick, one time I worried so much about taking a plaster off the next morning that I woke up and it had disappeared, never to be seen again, and last night: for a couple of months, one of my teddy bears has been missing, leaving me just two in my bed. This morning, I woke up and the third bear was back!!!! How??? Why??? Amazing! So, apparently adult sleep walking is a sign of mental instability/psychological problems.

I actually find myself filled with dread as to what sleep Jeremy-Kyling means...

“Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.”

Hey there, old (only as old as you feel) friends! 

This Saturday I found myself reading 'The Bell Jar'. Reading 'The Bell Jar' and eating cake. I can tell you are all thinking 'Oh no, it's one of THOSE posts.'

 It's not.

I actually had a jolly sort of day and it provided some sort of comfort for my current apres-education predicament.

The character in the novel, Esther, is an English graduate who can't get a job. An English graduate who likes writing and has based her years of education on being commended for a good job, for being creative. Of course, Esther goes one further by ending up in an asylum, and I don't think I'm quite teetering so close to the edge of a break down (though some mornings when the air is rife with the stench of rejection letters, I find myself Patrick Bateman laughing and Chris Brander face pulling), but the general sudden realisation of I don't know' when asked what you're doing after college is certainly familiar. ( “What do you have in mind after you graduate?'
'I don't really know,' I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say
that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true.”)

Not much has changed since the 50s/60s: “I didn't know shorthand either.

This meant I couldn't get a good job after college. My mother kept telling me nobody wanted a plain English major. But an English major who knew shorthand would be something else again. Everybody would want her. She would be in demand among all the up-and-coming young men and she would transcribe letter after thrilling letter.

The trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way. I wanted to dictate my own thrilling letters.”

It all seems to be about who has the most additional skills they can contribute to a job. And with every Tom, Dick and Harry constantly bettering themselves, it becomes a bit of a challenge. I lived abroad so I could improve my German. Additional language: check.
I got relevant experience in several different mediums of writing: check.
I have a range of interests and, let's face it, a rather amazing personality.
But it doesn't seem to be enough.

I was recently talking to my friend in the U.S, and she said something that has really stuck with me. "I feel as if my life has slowed down considerably in the last few months, and I'm trying everything I can to speed it back up." And this is something worryingly familiar to a whole generation of 18-25 year olds at the minute. Very few of my friends who have jobs are doing jobs they imagined they'd be doing, or that have any long term prospect of increased prosperity. Those of us unemployed hear of wonderful statistics such as our universities having a 95% after education employment rate and we can't help but laugh at our incredible good fortune to be the minority. A vast number have gone on to further education as a chance to get ahead,, but for those of us with no funds and no chance of affording the fees, even with scholarships, there is a bleak sense of no possibility whatsoever.

It's a strange place to be in, this no-man's land, and I find myself increasing losing my capacity to think. I'm slower at doing the Times crossword, I haven't been reading enough, I feel like the best sentence I can form sometimes is 'Me like cookies!' and there's a sort of silence that descends on me when I don't find any jobs to apply to and when I don't know what to do with myself.

Meanwhile, I had to Sign On a few weeks ago, but so far all I've received is four trips to the centre, a patronising talk about how to make a CV, several accusations of being foreign and zero money whatsoever...so it begins to feel like all I'm doing is spending a few hours questioning my own person and my own abilities just for the fun of it, with no compensation for my time.



We were promised a lot more by the older generations for our early 20s- this is supposed to be the time we truly become ourselves, with the people we are destined to love, and live in the places we are meant to be and that we've always dreamed of. 

I've prepared a film referencing system. Here we were: fresh faced youth ready for our next big adventure, straight off the graduate train of success and exam completion.

Pretty happy, eh?

After a few months of being minimum wage workers, or unemployed, or emotionally ravaged by the pressing loneliness of suddenly being without your closest friends indefinitely, we somewhat more resemble these poor guys:

"You got a little Chow?"

"OHMYGAAAWD!"

"Yeah, yeah, you...
you make my dreams come true!

IRONY!





So, I guess my point is: if anybody's got a way to turbo charge these years back into the good times they are meant to be, please go right ahead!

In other news, I'm going to see a comedy show with my mum at the weekend....but we're sitting in rows C +Q...so really it's going to be like going to a comedy show on my own! Which is the emotional equivalent of listening to Saint Saens 'The Swan' while doing a sad Mime Artist routine which involves (real) Ugly Crying silently while an audience breathily salivates over popcorn and smelly nachos.

Good times!