All the Wrong

My mum found my stash this week.   Don't you just hate it when that happens?

Nothing as cool as drugs or porn.  She found my stash of old photos that I've hoarded since my teenage years, and I'm so happy she did.  They're terrible!  I'd be embarrassed if it wasn't tickling me so much.  Look at the state of this pasty creeper!

 

"No, I don't know who stole the last yogurt and no, I'm not wearing a tent made from recycled bagpipes!"

...Cool hair, bro.

Naturally, I fell into a nostalgia hole.  I assume this is like a K-hole, but you remember more at the end and have less dribble on your clothes.

I wish I could share all the contents of my special box (heh) with you in all its beautiful, spot-ridden, angst infused glory.  Because who doesn't like a spotty, angsty box?  Like most people, I have mixed feelings about The Hormone Years.  School wasn't exactly a weekday party of coolness and sports for me.  I was an intense, stressed out introvert who avoided most social scenarios that didn't involve a gallon of the old confidence lube (ew.  Beer. Why couldn't I just call it beer? What is wrong with me tonight?).  I know, I know. Stark contrast to the Beyonce-esque, swan-like creature I am today. 

By swan-like, I mean white and prone to hissing when threatened.  Legend has it I can break an arm if I flap hard enough.  

Has a swan ever actually managed to break someone's arm?  Someone Google it for me.  I'm too lazy to click one tab over.  

As I was reflecting (giggling) upon my past, I couldn't help but think about what I would say to Teenage Becky if I met her now.  Maybe I would tell her to stop worrying so much about what people think of her.  Perhaps I'd break the news that she would stop growing at the age of fourteen and have to hang off bars by her elbows to be served in some pubs in her twenties.  Mostly I think I'd tell her that she is an idiot and wrong about things.  SO many things.  Here are some of the things that Specialpants McHormones believed:

1.  Dying your hair several different colours in the space of a couple of a few weeks will make it look cool and awesome.  You won't try to dye your hair bright blue, accidentally turn it grey-green and have to spend 3 days obsessively trying to wash it out.  Nor will you give up on that and then dump a load of Hyper Value's finest black dye on top of it.  The result?  See below: 

Also: Chinese dragon T-shirts from Tammy Girl will always be cool.  Everyone will be wearing them in 2015. 

2.  Yep.  Everyone cares so much about you that they're noting your every profoundly uncool move.  They are in fact judging you and only you, and not at all just getting on with their own shiny new internal chemical shitstorms while you paralyse yourself with anxiety in the corner.  Good logicking, narcissist!

3.  NOBODY loves your bands as much as you and your friends do. NOBODY!!!! They don't know all the words!  They don't GET THEM like you do!  GAH!! So many feelings!  I Wanna Fuck a Dog in the Ass by Blink 182 is about SO MUCH MORE than just sexually violating a pet (spoiler: It's not)!

4.  This? Cracking idea.  You can totally pull it off!  Even if it is upside down and looking a bit infect-y.

 

Look, but you can't touch, boys...because it's sore and I think I saw pus.

 5.  Exercise sucks and I will lose ALL of the weight EVER by going on the Special K diet with my mum.  Eating sawdust and pretend fruit in milk for two out of three meals a day is much more sustainable and fun than going outside in trainers and moving a bit.  Ew.

6.  Always trust a van of hippies at your friend's illegal rave in her barn when they offer you shots.  You are drinking a delicious minty substance.  Not alcoholic, herbal viagra. 

7.  This is an excellent look.  Much mysterious.  So goth.

Deep thoughts can be had when you're in mesh sleeves.

8.  You and your first proper boyfriend need to be attached at the face at all times, otherwise no one will know how much you LOVE EACH OTHER AND NO ONE ELSE UNDERSTANDS ANYWAY, WHY HAVE I GOT NO SKIN LEFT ON MY CHIN HAS ANYONE SEEN MY CHIN SKIN?!  

...To cut her some slack, though, teenage me did get the occasional thing right:

1.  This lot will be in my life til we're all in adult diapers, poking each other on whatever the future equivalent of Facebook is from our respective care homes:

I'm the one donning the helmet made of static...

2.  It is possible to stick the big cookie in your mouth whole:

Never be defeated by the big cookie, people!

G'night! 

xxx

Still Alive!

Gah! I haven't done this for over a fortnight. What am I supposed to do?! Um, um, um... Here's a picture of what I looked like the weekend before last:

No, I didn't get bad dentures.  I saw my heroes live onstage at Reading Festival for the third time (Blink 182).  Fart jokes and power chords abound! I love that trio so much that, as I sat on A's shoulders and took in their iconic flaming "FUCK" backdrop sign over a sea of thousands of heads, I may have done a little cry.  In my pants.

Only joking. Out of my eyes.  But I was three days deep into field dust and day drinking, so it seems normal that my face chose to malfunction in such a way.  Had a great weekend, as ever.

What else, what else... Ooh! I got some sweet, sweet ink done on a whim while my sister was getting her first tattoo.  In true big sister stylee, I obviously felt I had to at least borrow some of her thunder by asking one of the tattoo artists if they had any cancellations.  They did. Hurrah!  Here is the result:

 

Hell's Angels membership card pending.

I did write a little (10,000 words or so) story to publish the other week, as I mentioned in my last post.  Like my last verbal creation, it's another attempt at "the funnies", but this time, it's fiction.  That sounds like the world's shittiest movie tagline.

BECKY'S BACK! BUT THIS TIME... IT'S FICTION

 (dun dun duuuuuuuuhn!)

Instead of hosting it on Amazon and making people pay their hard earned 77p's on it, when I've figured out how to host PDFs on a blog (poking screen with a stick doesn't seem to have worked so far) and actually bothered to proof read the thing, I will put it up here for downloading at your leisure.  Watch this space and all that.

In some attempts-at-fitness news, I'm still bumming the living daylights out of CrossFit - novelty very much alive and not worn off yet.  I seem to get a kick out of making myself waddle with pain most days of the week.  Only detrimental result of my new addiction (apart from making my blog title Rebecca Writes & Runs look like a big, fat fatty of a lie) is that I've barely run due to my permanently heavy legs, and when I do, I can't seem to break the  6 mile mental barrier I've put up for myself.  I feel every. Single. Step.  It's like my brain won't let the handbrake go, which isn't great when Cardiff Half is in a few terrifying weeks.  Going to attempt somewhere between 8 and 10 miles today, which frightens the bajeezus out of me.  We shall see.

Last bit of my exciting update now.  Drumroll, please.

I came to the conclusion on Saturday morning that I have spent a big ole chunk of August pissed as a newt.  This has left me poor(er than normal) and given me the energy levels of an old, crumpled towel.  Much as I love the demon drink, it don't love me back! My hangovers are reaching nuclear level and only seem to be getting worse with age.  I've had some great days and nights out this month, but I'm ready for a break now.  And I think my friends deserve a hard earned rest from beauties like this at 3am:

No, Drunk Becky.  Spelling obviously isn't the issue here.  Go home.

So, in a bid to replenish my bank balance and general well being, I intend to have a sober October next month (can't not drink this month.  Going abroad for a wedding next week, and my willpower is about as strong as soggy paper).  I know Macmillan are doing a sponsored month of sobriety, but I feel a bit odd asking my friends to fork out money for me to stay at home on Saturday nights, catching up on The Walking Dead (zombies!! Guns!! ZOMBIES!!!) and eating snacks for a month, so I'll probably make a donation to the charity and go on my merry way without pestering those who tolerate my actions enough as it is.  Only reason I'm slapping my decision up on here is so that I can't back out.  It's out there now, on the interweb, so it's official.  Like a relationship status on Facebook.

Yes.  So.  That's us caught up for the last few weeks.  I like your new haircut, and that's a snazzy top you have on there.  See you sooner rather than later later this time!

5 Things To Do... Whilst Dying Your Hair

One of my favourite things - of which there aren't a great deal, I admit, about dying my unkempt head-nest is that magical 30-45 minutes that you have to kill between apply and rinse. It's not long enough to properly get stuck into something, and you can't exactly go for a stroll looking like you're channelling a strong There's Something About Mary vibe, so it feels like a kind of time-vortex that you can spend as you please. During my last self-dye job (before the Spockbrow incident), I compiled this list of things to do whilst dying your hair. How very girly of me:

1. Plaster all of your hair flat to your head and imagine how you'd look bald (fit, I bet!). Crank up some tunes and dance, baldy, dance!! Some old faithful tracks from my playlist:

- LippsInc: Funky Town
- Wild Cherry: Play That Funky Music White Boy
- Blondie: Heart Of Glass
- Florence And The Machine: Kiss With A Fist
- Any Blink 182 song. There is no wrong Blink 182 song.

2. Plan to do some work, but instead end up on Youtube for half an hour. Here are some videos that should kill some time:

http://youtu.be/FYfZwDorJsw - Jenna Marbles: What Girls Do In The Bathroom

http://youtu.be/vl6azn-DzeE - My Drunk Kitchen: Ice Cream

http://youtu.be/MYC-waukYWo - Bad Lip Reading: More Twilight

http://youtu.be/PWXsTaBoD7A - Deap Valley: Gonna Make My Own Money (choon!)


3. This requires some prep before you apply the hair dye:

* Remove the contents of your home dye kit and store them somewhere hidden for later use. Put the box back in your bag/ satchel/ skin pouch (if you're a kangaroo/ have evolved skin pockets).

* Tell your housemate/ family/ live-in luuurve buddy that you bought this awesome hair removal stuff today, which is supposed to leave your legs, like sooo smooth for over a month etc. etc. )You can already see where I'm going with this one, can't you, Clever Clogs? Damn, you's smart!).

* Talk about some other stuff for a bit.

* Casually announce that you are off to the bathroom to dye your lustrous mane.

* Apply hair dye, and go back to the person you were talking to.

* Complain about your head itching and ask if they're cooking something, because you can smell burning.

* Pretend to distractedly root through your bag a bit, only to resurface puzzled with the empty dye box that you stashed earlier. Make confused eye contact. Wait for it to dawn on your victim that you have just caked your head in hair removal cream, and judge them based on their reaction.

4. Stand creepily in the window and stare unblinkingly at passers by. Offer the occasional po-faced wave.

5. Eat everything in sight as you think about how to best kill your time. Before you know it, you'll have a bad case of the cookie burps, but time will have flown!