Showing posts with label embarassing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label embarassing. Show all posts

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Drunk Thoughts 2

Hello, toasters!
So yes, due to the events of this evening, I find myself intoxicated yet again.
By 'events', I mean the casual suggestion of an after-dinner drink at home, which was followed by 5 hours of hardcore cocktail drinking.
And by 'hardcore cocktail', I mean the Apple Sourz mixer that tastes SO BAD that I got for Christmas, and I figured that I may as well drink it whilst drunk, so that I wouldn't be able to register how bad it tastes.

Sorry, no illustration today- I'm definitely not in a fit state to even attempt picking up a pen.
However, I hope you enjoy this photograph, which I took whilst on holiday...
and it kind of links to my alcohol theme... right?!
So here is a list of embarrassing things that I have done this evening, that I definitely would not have done if it weren't for the alcohol coursing through my veins:

  • I may have tried to fit six full-sized Oreo cookies into my mouth at the same time.
  • I may have made a friend of mine who has recently come out as being a lesbian touch my boobs to fell how bouncy they are.
  • I may have set my housemate's wallpaper photo as a graphic image of gay porn.

So really, for me, that isn't too bad at all!
Now I don't want you guys to think that I'm a raving alcoholic- whilst I may enjoy a drink or two, I rarely go out, instead preferring the comfort of Netflix and a duvet.
But I thought, as I am slightly inebriated, I may as well make another 'drunk reflections on life' post, which I can cringe at tomorrow when I wake up.
Here goes nothing...

Why is it so difficult to use an umbrella?
I'm talking about when it's properly raining, with hurricane-esque winds to match... no-one ever prepares you for the difficulty of this task, for how many umbrellas you will disfigure on your travels.
And another thing that makes umbrella use impossible for the overly-polite Brit is umbrella etiquette.
If I am walking towards someone who is also using an umbrella on a slim pavement, what is the accepted procedure? 
We end up doing the trying-to-dodge-each-other pavement dance, which is made infinitely worse by the fact that the umbrellas get tangled up with each other.
Unwritten British law states that you cannot interact with a stranger in public for more than 15 seconds without having to get engaged, married, and raise at least two children named after biblical characters.

On Christmas, why do loads of random relatives that I've never heard of suddenly appear? 
Surely it's cheaper to make contact when it's not the holiday season, so we don't feel pressured into buying each other bath salts that we wrap in cellophane to disguise the fact that zero effort went into the gift.
Long lost Auntie makes contact in July? 
Cool, we should go to the beach together sometime.
Long lost Auntie makes contact in late November?
Better buy her some chocolates and hope she isn't lactose intolerant.

'Dogs are basically cats with an attention-seeking complex.' -Sammie
As a cat lover, and academic, I can say that the above statement is completely true. 
Dogs need walks, whereas cats take the initiative and entertain themselves for the day, like functioning members of society.
Dogs, however, need haircuts, walks and specialist toys, which mostly get buried in your new flowerbed of roses.
If a child did that as a token of thanks for free lodging in your home, you'd put them in care.
Don't even pretend you wouldn't. 

So, dear toasters, (and all of those people that have stumbled across my website and wonder why I am referring to you as a kitchen appliance) I will leave you with this old photograph I have just this minute found on my hard drive.
Katniss Everdeen, eat your heart out.

Disclaimer: If my sister Gina gets chosen in the reaping, I will not volunteer
as tribute. She's a little git.

Sammie
xoxo


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Thursday, October 17, 2013

Adjusting to life as a student

Hello, toasters!

I'm about a month deep into my second year of uni.
Especially since moving back into my family home for 4 months over summer, I have realised some of the things that make student life... well, studenty.

One thing you never have to think about when merrily living at home is doing the shopping.
I never realised how expensive cheese was!
And yes, you can get the £1 'cheese' from Iceland, but its so rubbery that if you drop it, it will bounce back up and punch you in the face.

Never before have I been quite so precious about nectar points.
So what if I only spent £1.27?
I need those points!
It's seriously becoming a problem- like as if I'm addicted to drugs.
The other day I spent £2.50 in Sainsbury's, walked halfway home before I realised I hadn't collected my points, and went back to get them!
What is my life turning into?!?!
And then, when you get home, you have to try and fit everything into your one little freezer drawer.
I can definitely say, that I have become a master of this.
It's like an expert game of Tetris in my freezer drawer.
Life Skill = Gained. Thanks, University.

Whilst I love my house, you do have to get used to some really odd combinations of mis-matched furniture.
In my living room for example, we have two sofas- one a forest green and one a brilliant red that makes your eyes hurt if you look at it in daylight.
I know that's not really a huge sticking point, but it does make you appreciate the purposefully styled rooms at your family home when you go back.

One thing I have learnt about myself is that I'm actually a pretty good cook!
(See a recent post here that has one of my recipes)
This came as a huge shock to everyone, as before my Dad used to joke that I could burn water.
But no, I actually buy fresh ingredients, combine them in interesting ways and I have never, ever eaten a pot noodle.
The worst thing that happened to me kitchen-wise was my very first attempt to cook when I first moved in as a fresher.
I was cooking a pizza (very simple, I know) and so I just put it in the oven and waited.
There were only two problems to this plan...
1. Our oven has no temperature markings. You turn the dial, but the markings have long since rubbed off. So, to start with, it was like a fun game. I think I must have turned it around to what I believe is about 300 degrees that night.
2. After I put the pizza into what must have been a furnace, I became distracted. I can't remember what I was distracted by, but as I am an art student, it was probably something like a butterfly or my own boobs.
So when I eventually remembered I was cooking something (probably about 40 minutes later) it came out looking pretty burnt.
And by pretty burnt, I mean 100x more burnt than the stereotypical English guy who falls asleep on holiday in Spain in the sun all day and has to go around looking like a tomato for 3 months after.
So if having a pizza that was blacker than a politicians heart wasn't bad enough, I only went and dropped it on the floor!
I think I may have cried at this point. Or again, became distracted by my own boobs.
I just know that I definitely missed the 3-second-rule time limit.
But still, I was just so hungry, I picked it up and ate the bits that were still recognisable as a pizza.
This, dear toasters, is a fact I am not proud of, so please don't judge me!

Doing the washing is also something that gets me.
Because my laundry basket is only being filled by me, it takes a long time to get full.
And even when it is full, you do the same thing you do with the bins and squash it all down so it will last a little longer.
So I'd say that wash day only comes up every 2 weeks.
But when it does come up, I do 5 washes (1 white, 2 colours, 2 black washes) in a row and EVERYTHING is hung out to dry in my room.
So for about 2 or 3 days, I cant move in my own room, it becomes a rainforest of clothing.
Sometimes, its kinda cool.
I can make a slightly-damp blanket fort out of the set of sheets I've washed and hide away from the outside world and the concept of 'doing work'.

I will leave you on this note- Internet shopping is your best friend and your worst enemy rolled into one!
Yes, you can get some amazing deals that make your life (and bank balance) so much better.
But, be warned.
The other day, I went through my Ebay purchase history and realised quite how much stuff I had bought.
And by stuff, I mean things that I love, but if I'm being very honest with myself, it could be classed as 'crap I don't need'.
For example, today my Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends DVD came in the post!
Now don't get me wrong- I loved this show!
But if I'm honest, the £3 I paid for this could have been spent on something a little more nessecary. Like stationary. Or a subway.

Oooooh, I want a subway now!

So my question to you all is this: What have you found to be the hardest thing about adjusting to student life? Let me know in the comments!
And don't forget to subscribe if you like my content, so you'll be notified when I post more :)
Sammie
xoxo


Sunday, August 11, 2013

10 things you should never say to a pregnant woman...

Hello, toasters!
It seems babies are everywhere lately, especially with the arrival of the Royal baby and the news that Simon Cowell is soon to be a father.

 
Aside from the classic asking 'when's it due?' to a non-pregnant woman, negotiating a conversation with an actually pregnant lady can be a nightmare.
I don't know whether this is just me, or if other people are as socially awkward as I am, but if you are the kind of person that accidentally (and mortifyingly) calls a teacher either 'mum' or 'dad', then listen up.
Here are 10 things that if said to a pregnant woman, will definitely result in you having to pack up and move to Timbuktu out of humiliation.

  1. Have you watched Kill Bill recently?
  2. What will you do if it's black? (Most effective-if that is the right word- on a white couple)
  3. Are you sure there's not 2 or 3 in there? You are fat with a capital PH.
  4. It's a shame Shane is the father, especially with those genetics.
  5. Didn't Jessica Simpson lose 25lb of her pregnancy weight in just 5 weeks?
  6. Apparently the hormones are meant to change you, but I've honestly always found you this disagreeable.
  7. I had the best nights sleep last night.
  8. I think I speak for everyone when I say that the ultrasound scan picture that's set as your profile picture is not your most flattering look.
  9. Did you know that there are now over 2 million single parent families in Britain alone?
  10. I think your pregnancy glow just makes you look reeeally sweaty.
I genuinely said number 10 to a family friend while she was expecting a few years ago, and I have been buying her the best Christmas presents ever since, out of guilt.

My next post will be up on Tuesday evening, so watch this space!
To make things simple, just subscribe by email or Google+ (if you're not shy enough to admit you actually have a Google+ account!) to get notifications when a new post is up.
You can do all this is the right-hand sidebar

Until next time!
Sammie
xoxo

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

How to rid yourself of holiday 'friends'

Hello, toasters!

Most people take holiday pictures in front of big, flash cars, and I couldn't resist this jazzy number the city of Mahon had to offer
 



No one knows who decided it would be a good idea to socialise whilst abroad, but everyone knows it's a bad move.
I almost called this post 'How to rid yourself of unwanted holiday friends'.
I then realised that the term 'holiday friends' already implies they're annoying, not very funny and difficult to understand due to a thick Northern accent.
Just a general pain when you're trying to enjoy the sun, sea, and the handsome Spanish waiter who slips you your cheque oh-so-provocatively.
Of course, there are a few good things about befriending random families on holiday...
If you forgot to reserve a seat for the nights' entertainment, they're usually the type of people who have been camped out for 3 hours to get the very best table, and always seem to have room to spare.

(By the way, if you don't relate to having the issue of a bunch of people you don't know tagging around with you on holiday, you may be one of the people I'm talking about.)

I've just come back from Son Bou, Menorca.
We survived the first half of the holiday without a group following us about, making us feel like tour guides.
On the fourth day, we encountered Ebony in the  swimming pool.
On the plus side, she was a lovely girl who liked to laugh, and got on really well with my younger sister Gina.
In fact, it was perfect, as Ebony was constantly in the pool, so it prevented the constant flow of 'are you coming in yet?' nagging from Gina.
What was not so perfect was Ebony's family.
Physically, they were so huge and overpowering, that toddlers passing by wet themselves out of fear.
They swore like troopers, were overly touchy-feely, and complained about everything.
(They made my sarcasm look like nothing I tell you)
They also seemed to be constantly there, by the pool, in the lounge, even in the lift.
And wherever you were, they'd insist you'd come and sit, and have a long old conversation about how bad the state of the walkway was, or whatever latest thing they'd found to pick holes in.
So quickly popping up to the room to get your flip flops would take about half an hour as you'd be sure to bump into them at least twice.
When it came to their thick Liverpudlian accent, I did the very British thing by just nodding to everything I didn't catch, to prevent my side of the conversation being 50% 'I beg your pardon?'

So if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, here is a list of simple things that you can do to rid yourselves of these bizarre people...

  1. Begin by stabbing a nearby squirrel with a toothpick.
  2. Just kidding, but do try to do something subtly outlandish to make them rethink why they're allowing their family to be around you. By 'subtly outlandish', I do not mean making kebabs out of poor woodland creatures.
  3. Run everywhere. Maybe if you can run away from them for long enough, they'll latch onto someone else.
  4. Become a used car salesman and try to sell them PPI Insurance.
  5. Put mildly controversial ideas into the children's heads. For example, if the father is an avid Manchester United fan, plant seeds in the kids heads that Chelsea is way cooler to support.
  6. Insist they come along with you on a reeeeeally long hike.
  7. Talk about nothing but how likeable the Go Compare singer is.
  8. If all of the above fail, it's time to bring out the big guns.... open a tin of Pringles, share them out amongst your family but don't offer any to them. Watch them eye the tube pleadingly, and feel very guilty about it, but know that its all for the greater good.
 
I hope you can take these lessons and put them into practice next time a particularly lecherous family of four decide to be your new best friends.

Good luck!
Sammie
xoxo

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Public Relations (The Wheelchair Chronicles, part 2)

Considering that I'm used to a large, busy group of friends and an even larger, louder family circle buzzing around me 24/7, you'd think that I'd find it easy to spend one day with my mums new Mother-in-Law.
Sure, I can exhaust my limited knowledge on gardening, the Antiques Roadshow and 'that lovely Alex Jones from The One Show' long enough to count as a conversation. Most seventy-somethings are satisfied with that, and feel they can then drink their tea and get back to the crossword.
Not Daphne.
This lady, although pleasant enough, seems to make my tried-and-trusted conversational topics fall into the dust. No longer can I talk about how the pansies are doing, as all I am met with is a cold, hard stare.
I really cant describe the feeling. Its not quite awkward, but definitely not the warm, friendly atmosphere needed with family relations.
I think the problem is, I want to talk to her. I want to go through my usual routine of BBC One shows and British flowers. I want to feel like I've made her feel welcome and that there's a nice atmosphere here.
But for some reason, I can't. And my mum is the same. She definitely tries (I suppose she has to), but I've noticed that the dog has been taken for much longer, more frequent walks when Daphne is here.
So two days ago, it was just me and Daphne in the house, for the whole day. I had a game plan and everything. I would walk up to her, and ask her about tennis. Because the day before I'm sure she had said something about Andy Murray, and I was so desperate, I was now convinced that tennis was the way to go.
To cut a long and rather painful story short, I walked up to her in mid-morning, managed nothing more than a squeak, then spent the rest of the day hiding.
Seriously, I had a three hour long bath because I was so embarrassed.
My skin still hasn't unwrinkled yet....

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Challenge no.19- Watch an entire series in a day

So for those of you that read my last post, and have been worried that I was eaten by bears or something on the camping trip that I mentioned, you'll be glad to know that I'm safe and sound.
The reason I haven't posted is because I've gotten so addicted to Secret Diary of a Call Girl.
I watched it several years ago when it was first broadcast, but it wasn't something  that I went out of my way to watch. The thing I watched religiously was The Darling Buds of May, which for those of you that didn't watch, was basically how I like to think Delboy Trotter's retirement went.
As I live in a uni house, my television entertainment is limited to the meagre DVD collection I have, and whatever is on freeview. And my freeview choices are limited to whatever my housemates want to watch, so it always ends up on Jeremy Kyle or You've Been Framed (Kill. Me. Now.)
So a few weeks ago, my mum was telling me how I could stream Netflix from my family home to my laptop right here in Bournemouth.
I have not left my room in far too long because of this.
Seriously, its a problem! Like a plant left in the dark for too many days, Ive started to go all pale and weird and withdrawn. Well... not really... but I've basically been in a forever lazy state for far too long now.
I even started watching random kids shows like All Grown Up and H20: Just Add Water. No joke, the description for the latter is 'Emma, Cleo and Rikki are just three ordinary teenage girls with ordinary teenage issues, until one magical day when they're transformed into mermaids'. Yes it is as terrible as it sounds. Worse even. But you know what the saddest part is? I have spent at least six hours of my life watching this Australian crap. That's six hours I can never get back.
So Secret Diary of a Call Girl is actually pretty good. It's funny, fast paced and stars an almost naked Billie Piper, so I think they've covered all bases really.
I watched the entire first season in one day (Challenge= Done!) and have now watched up to season four. I'm also on season two of gossip girl. Which I am also addicted to. I'm also only 9 days away from hand-in at Uni. HELP!
An issue I have with watching this (from my laptop in my room, usually late at night) is the sounds. I only realised this after a few nights of watching. As you can imagine, a series about the working life of a prostitute has a lot of noises that would definitely be questionable to a housemate passing by my door one evening.
So my top tip for those of you out there about to watch this series- use headphones! I am now probably seen as some kind of porn addict by my housemates now
Sammie
xoxo