28 Wise, Wise Wisdoms

Yes, it's that time of year again!  I've come through another whole 12 months during which I've saved up golden nuggets of priceless information, especially for you( Priceless because they won't accept them at Cash 4 Gold).  You lucky, lucky devil.

...Or I've not given this post any thought whatsoever until today, the day after my 29th birthday, and I've sat down to share whatever mulch I can squeeze out of my head (lush).  I've had a week off work, so the contents of my head have been diluted by Budweiser and day naps. Here goes....something!

1.  Budweiser tastes better when it comes out of a bottle with a screw top.  I don't know why.  Maybe that's a fact for me to share next year.

2.  Running for months on end on a sore foot doesn't "toughen it up."  This is a strategy for idiots. My brain, it turns out, was giving me alternative facts.

3.  Speaking of alternative facts... Next level alternate dimension shit does occasionally happen.  We live in a reality where a toupee wearing, baby handed man with no political experience is farting out terrible decisions from a mouth that looks like an anus is in charge of all of 'Murica.  #whereisdoctorwhowhenyouneedhim

4.  29 is not too old to get that Blink 182 tattoo you've wanted ever since you had a constellation of spots and wore eyeliner blacker than your soul (so...this morning, then?):

 

*endless squealing and heart emojis*

Yes, I am aware that with a heart tattoo and a movie quote on the same arm, my body is starting to resemble my secondary school notebooks.  No, I shan't be laminating myself.

5.  It is possible to discover that you are very very much a "dog person"rather than a cat person as you'd originally believed.  This knowledge comes after becoming the proud pet parent of a big-eyed, poop eating squish monster from the land of Cute.  I mean...after becoming a responsible dog owner.  HAVE YOU SEEN MY DOG?? HE IS THE COOLEST DOG IN THE WORLD AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH, AND, just....

 SEE?!!

6. Guided meditation (see Headspace app - is v.g) is magical, especially if you're alert.  If no, you still win because you get to have a little snooze in the name of zen.  Am so spiritual now. 

7.  Crossfit has changed both my physical shape (I have actual arms now, as opposed to floppy toothpicks) and brain.  I no longer wish to be Beyonce (wouldn't turn down the offer to become her if it arose still, though.  Am not crazy), but instead pine over being a Davidsdottir or a Leblanc-Bazinet.  If unsure, do a Google image search.  But only after you've read this, because you'll disappear down a rabbit hole of impressive muscles and tiny shorts that you won't want to be rescued from.

8.  Putting a deposit down for a house does not make you feel more grown up.  It makes you feel more like a lady baby than ever because what do I do when the heating packs in?  What if I set it on fire by accident?  Do I have to start opening post addressed to "the home owner" now? What if someone steals it from me in the night?  Like, the whole house?  What if???

9.  You can only put on so much weight before you have to stop accepting friends' reassurances that "It's probably just muscle from all that going to the gym that you do."  If there is such a thing as a muffin top muscle, mine is in fantastic shape.

10.  Since A started making Youtube videos, I've learned that I turn into a duck voiced weirdo with the posture of a velocoraptor when a camera is pointed at me.  Or I look like that anyway and have only just realised. 

Nah.  I choose denial.  It's the camera.*

11.  Unless I'm drunk, it is now nearly impossible for me to stay awake after 10.30pm. Or wake up after 8am.  My body clock has either reversed into "small child" mode or "pensioner" settings.  

12.  Middle Sis is queen of buying gifts that both warm the heart and insult.  Case in point:

 

Cheers, pal

13.  There is a tipping point where the effort it takes to get drunk (3 day hang overs, wild mood swings & the need to sleep into the next ice age the following day)  starts to outweigh the fun of it.  The see saw I'm on is not going the way I'd like it to.  Boo hiss.

14.  These annual lists are getting so long that there is a new need to "refuel" with "brain food" part way through it.  Golden syrup on toast if you're interested.  

15.  The Harry Potter books are SO chuffing GOOD and if you stop at book 4 as a teenager because you've decided you're "too cool" for them, then you're wrong.  Dead wrong.  FYI, your favourite trousers are luminous pink flares.  You're not too cool for anything, little buddy.

16.  Nikes and Heavenly Feet are the only shoe brands you need. Ever.  Also Doc Martens, but you're too poor to buy those right now, and if you try to break a new pair in, your already battered foot may well finally fall off.

17.  It is possible to cut your own fringe and not be ridiculed as long as you don't grab the whole thing and lop straight through it like you used to. 

18.  A moustache looks frighteningly natural on me. 

It's like looking at Hulk Hogan's sexy younger brother, isn't it?

19.  28 is a big number of things to think up a list of stuff for.  No, I'm not stalling or filling up space for the sake of it.  Fine, you write it instead if it's so bloody easy!

20.  I must practice patience.  Maybe should stay awake for longer whilst listening to Headspace...

 

21.  Binning things is great!  I have thrown most of my current house away in readiness to move into the new one within the next couple of months.  I'm practically besties with the guys at the local rubbish tip now, and chucking out clutter makes me feel all clean inside.  Until we actually need something.

"Beck, have you seen the coasters/spatula/entire book case?"

"Erm..."

22.  Dogs are like tattoos.  You can't stop at one.  I have big plans to get a little sidekick for Jesse.  I firmly feel that he needs a tiny chihuahua body guard because HOW FREAKING CUTE WOULD THAT BE??  I could buy him a little "security" t shirt and...when did I become this person?

23. Audio books and podcasts are the absolute balls.  I can't walk the dog, go anywhere in my car or generally leave the house without being told a story or learning something about how my brain works.  I need a constant supply.  I couldn't name more than one person in the charts right now (one person is Justin Beiber/Bieber...  Is that right?  Am I hip now?), but I can reel off pop psychology factoids and anecdotes that aren't actually mine like a crap Yoda.

24.  It isn't enough for me to be a bit of a deaf bird.  I now own glasses and a hearing aid, but there is only so much space behind my right ear, so I have to choose whether I would prefer sight or hearing at any given moment.  Ooh! Or I need to invest in a monocle!  Where can I get  a good monocle?  Does anyone still make those?

25.  All of the movies have now been made.  Everything produced from here on in are going to be reboots and/or remakes.  Not all of them good.  I wanted to like Ghostbusters so badly...*sniff*

26.  Taking a Facebook hiatus doesn't turn you into the clear headed workaholic you secretly believe lives underneath all the procrastinating.  It just makes you miss Facebook a lot.  Facebook is king.  All hail Facebook.

27.  Hoarding pretty notebooks because "you might need them for something" is a worthy hobby.

28.   After your mid twenties, it's a good idea to keep back at least a quarter of your salary for Yankee candles.  You don't know why you need the smell of "fluffy towels" and angel's tears in your home at all times.  You just do.  

Yeah, I struggled to come up with that many things.... I think on my next "Wise, Wise Wisdoms" post, I might just have to post a picture of me shrugging with the caption I dunno, I forgot!  Underneath it.  I hope that this year's wisdome are...umm...useful?

Bye!

* Andy Price Vlogs: if you want to see me duck out of shot in several weeks' worth of videos =)

What Butlins Taught Me

How was my weekend, you ask?  

I'll show you:

....yup.

Went to Butlins on a hen do.  I adore the place. If you're not from Britain and haven't heard of it, it's a venue/holiday village thing where:

a.  Parents with kids (what other kind of parents are there, Becky? Wake up, dear!) who aren't posh enough to jump on a plane visit on a yearly basis visit so that they can get pissed at the always-open bars while their children run wild and are loosely controlled by staff in red coats (...called Redcoats), who are hysterically trying to grin and perform their way through severe hang overs.  In retrospect, I feel very sorry for whoever had to wear the Bob the Builder costume all day.  It must have reeked of discount vodka breath and kebab farts.

b.  Grown ups visit for themed no-children-allowed weekends (because kids would leave with full blown PTSD if they were allowed to witness one) to dress up in fancy dress and drink until they genuinely believe they are in the decade that weekend is dedicated to.  This weekend, I was a school girl in the 90's.  I am channeling my inner "Perry off of Kevin & Perry Go Large" in the above image.  I don't have time to explain Kevin & Perry today.  Maybe in another post.  Or you could Google it.  It's sort of like a more embarrassing, British Wayne's World but with gratuitous zit popping and a poo in the sea.  High brow filmage at its finest.

I'm so pleased I was invited to this hen's weekend long, liver pickling event, because every time I go to Butlins in Minehead, I feel like I'm visiting the mother ship.  My family would occasionally go while we were growing up, and I LOVED it there.  Middle sis and I would have free run of the funfair, arcades and kids' shows while our family and family friends would get merrily tanked up and wave us on our way.  I'm pretty sure little sis learned to crawl in one of the chalets.  And if I ever convince her to come on an adult weekend now that she's eighteen, I'm certain she'll continue the tradition of scooting around on her hands and knees to get places, albeit for a different reason.  You can't turn around without being offered a shot of something strong,sugary and unnaturally coloured.

Butlins in all its wonky, sometimes scruffy, boozy, silly Britishness helped shape me as a person (for better or worse...), so I'm going to share with you a few life lessons I've taken from my visits there both as a child and an adult:

1.  The best time to ask your parents for something they'd otherwise say no to is when they're a bit tipsy.  

"Can I go on that ride?"

"Yeah, go ahead!"

"Can I have some money for the arcade?"

"Crack on, love!"

"Can you sign this bit of paper so I can get my nose pierced?"

"Sure I can!"

2.  Once you've been to Butlins, any holiday that doesn't have something at least a little bit crappy about it doesn't feel like a proper holiday.  I'm sure the food has improved since I was treated to full board visits in my youth (because we were fancy like that), but I would cheerfully guzzle down scrambled eggs that looked and smelled like fetid frogspawn in the morning before jaunting back to our chalet to have a quick shower where you BY THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T TOUCH THE WALLS IN THERE!  AND WEAR FLIP FLOPS OUR YOU'LL DIE!!"  Everything's been done up in the accommodation there now, but I won't lie - I was kind of pleased last weekend when a friend and I got the one room where the light flickered constantly in a raver stylee.  It's like they knew I was coming and wanted to make me comfortable!  I was home.

3.  If you like privacy, an adult weekend is not for you.  Strangers wander in and out of each other's accommodation pretty freely.  Mostly because most of the buildings are a confusing maze of identical..ness.  In our case this weekend, we saw a streak of rainbow colours and hair flash past the living room door.  It turned out to be an overexcited stag wearing little more than pants (thank God), braces, a tutu and more body hair than you'd get if you stuck both my pets together with duct tape.  He turned out to be non hostile, so we invited him in and promptly gave him a make over and some beers.

4.  If you want to be a human sized strawberry, stripper cop or overweight batman of an evening, then, my friend, it is your God given RIGHT to be so.

5.  No matter how tiring, cold or malnourished you are by the end of your visit, you are guaranteed to feel nostalgic and sad the second you turn your back on the place.  I remember leaving once as a kid and taking in the white peaks of the pavilion, the lights of the fairground and the sharp, stabby winds blowing off the sea and gagging to get back to simple, straight forward, seaside fun.

Til next time, Butlins.  Til next time.

*salute*

Christ, I'm tired.

Living in Sin: What I've Learned So Far

Hallo!  Having me the usual kind of a Sunday night.  Winding down after a long day of stressing about the fact that am stressing on a Sunday.  Hiding from the inevitability of another pending Monday behind my laptop as the manboy shoots strangers online in his army camouflage onesie.  I would take a picture, but I'm worried that if I do, manboy will stop feeding me and I'll have to go back to making weird pickle filled sandwiches a la my student days.  Gherkin, ketchup and Branston pickle sarnie anyone?  I don't have butter, but I could substitute mayo.  It's kind of the same stuff, right?

I find Sundays stressful.  I wake up worrying about the fact that I only have one precious day of weekend left.  An internal rage then ignites within me because the dishes I didn't do on Saturday (who does dishes on a Saturday?? Ick) haven't been cleared away by the Weekend Elves (mine seem to permanently be on strike.  Maybe I should start paying them.  What currency do you think elves prefer? Euros?  Werthers Originals?  The teeth of my enemies?).  Then I hate myself because it's suddenly nearly 3pm and I've achieved nothing more than a quick food shop in which I've followed A around Aldis, sneaking cool notepads and bags of popcorn into the trolley while he does the real shopping so we can survive without getting rickets.

I think my problem is that I simultaneously think that Sundays should be both super relaxing and mega productive.  One half of my brain thinks that I should, run, write, clean, visit family, catch up with friends, take the dog for an adventure and many, many other things that require more than a single day's worth of hours.  The other half thinks that eating crunchy things in front of reruns of First Dates and Gogglebox with the curtains drawn is the pyjama clad path to spiritual weekend nirvana.  Usually I end up doing neither of these options and just have a bit of an all day tantrum, a nap and then I eat cookies and feel grumpy about wasting a whole day.

 "Chin(s) up and eat your chunks, Chunk!" 

I would find a filter to make me look a bit less Dawn of the Dead, but 

1. I can't be arsed &

2. My hands are full of cookies

I could learn a thing or two from A.  He gets up when he wants, faffs about in front of the TV for a couple of hours, does the shopping and then recognises that leaving the house even once on a Sunday is a brave feat and uses this as an incentive to chill out some more.  We've been living together now for four-ish years.  I think.  The only anniversaries I remember are the dates on which we got our pets.  It's good to remember the important things.  I've done the obligatory student house share thing in my time (and loved it!), but A's the first person I've ever cohabited with alone.  Not quite alone, but he's the only other biped in the house at least.  Living in sin has been an interesting experience so far, and it's taught me a lot of things in our almost-I-think half decade of sharing a fridge.  I mean house.  Here are a few examples:

1.  The longest you can stay angry at someone depends on how recently you've eaten.

It's totally justifiable to silently hate the back of someone's head for not reading your mind (and glares) as you aggressively hoover at their "gaming chair" (fold out camping chair that somehow survived Reading Festival) to make the point that they should be cleaning too, as the nuclear fallout-esque state of your house has started to bother you first.  It's also totally justifiable to do a total u-turn and decide that he is an angel sent from heaven as soon as he utters those three words every girl longs to hear...


"Want some lunch?"

Yes, you will inevitably go back into passive aggressive aggro-clean mode when you realise that he utilised every pot, wok and skillet to make a simple bloody cheese sandwich, but that's beside the point.

2.  If you don't rush things, you're much less likely to smack your head on open cupboard doors, shelves and walls.

One of us has considerably less cuts and bruises than the other because they don't feel like everything needs to be done right this second or their head will explode.  Guess who.


3.  It's okay to eat terribly if the other person is doing the same thing.

Takeaways, family sized snack buckets of chocolates and meals the size of a human head are all fine as long as you can shift some of the blame onto the other party.  The inevitable slide to obesity is much more fun if you have someone to hold hands with on the way down.  Wheeeee!

4.  Last one to bed does the boring stuff!

My bedtimes are getting earlier and earlier.  Both of ours are.  Since getting the dog, the list of boring adult crap we have to do before hitting the hay is getting longer.  Turn the telly off.  Take the dishes out. Force the cat out the door if he's not looking too cute while he's sprawled out and unconscious because "Awww!  I can't put him out when he's like that!"  Freeze your tits off in the garden while the dog takes his time chewing thoughtfully on each individual blade of grass before deciding on a good place to void his bladder.  Try to figure out where the totally black dog has disappeared in the pitch dark garden and somehow coax the invisible creature back inside.

If we're both starting work at the same time the following day, it becomes a game of bedtime chicken.  Whoever manages to get out "goingtobednowokaygoodnight!" first and promptly leg it up the stairs gets to avoid all that bullshit.  I'll be going to bed at 4pm before long if I can get away with it.
  
5.    Box sets are more fun when you've got someone to talk at.

Actually, I'm not sure if A would agree with this one.  I see TV time as social time.  It's a time to vent all of my opinions and try to get to know the bestubbled male that shares my sofa by asking his opinions on everything too.  For bonding and shit.

"I don't think I'd have shot that guy in that situation, even if he did make off with all the drugs.  Would you?  Ooh, I like her hair! What do you think? I think I'd survive in prison by just being nice to everyone, that way I can't make any enemies.  But then again, they might steal all my shit because they'd think I'm soft.  What if I carried a shiv with me? Just to make a point.  Ha, that was almost a pun!  I could make it out of a toothbrush and - wait, what did he say?  Who died?  I missed that bit, what happened? What's the best way to sharpen a toothbrush?"

"Hey, it's that bloke off my sofa!!"

Happy Sunday!  I hope yours was relaxing and/or productive as opposed to a stress-sweat-and-naps nightmare like mine.  And if your Sundays do go anything like mine, let me know so I can feel marginally less mental.  PLEASE TELL ME I'M NOT ALONE!!

*sobs into cookies*

'kay, bye.

Fitness Fibs - Lies We Tell Ourselves

Two things that made me cringe when I originally wrote that title:

1 - I worried it makes me sound like I think I'm some kind of "expert", which would translate to everyone else as "unqualified douche nugget who probably can't even outrun a tranquilized sloth in a weight vest."  This only makes me want to write this post more, because clearly I need it just as much as, if not more than, anyone else.

2 - I originally wrote "Lies Women Tell Themselves," which is ridiculous because I don't think only those of us with certain chromosomes are entitled to feeling a bit insecure about our abilities.  Unless I'm totally wrong and "The Men" are just pretending in order to somehow get the better of us women folk in a way that we are too distracted by knitting and chocolate to grasp. God.  Men, huh? 

That was a joke.  I like men.  You guys are great. *Eyes you all suspiciously*

I should probably tell you what this post is about now.  I've been an enthusiastic (and oftentimes unenthusiastic) casual/amateur pursuer of fitness for a few years now.  I've transformed from girl who fakes "hurty ear" as an excuse to get out of P.E...actually, hurty ANYTHING to get out of P.E in into adult woman who enthusiastically turns down Friday nights out on this piss so she can go hang out at the gym on Saturday morning until it feels like her lungs are coming out of her butt.  She can also bench press a bus.

I lied about the bus.  Point is, I do some kind of physical activity (running and/or CrossFit) 3-5 times a week (depending on the week) and even though it took me a long time to get here, I now love it almost (almost!  Let's not go crazy) as much as I love cake.  I'm not super fit.  I'm not even sure if I'm average, but I've got to a stage where I know that I will come away from that day's workout feeling happier, saner and stronger than when I went in.  

 Image 1 - How I used to spend my Friday nights (now how I spend the odd Saturday night instead.  What?  I said I'd changed a bit, not had a personality transplant. Jeez.  Go get me a beer)

Image 2 - How I mostly Spend my Saturday mornings now instead of crying because I want pizza and a cuddle.

I haven't always felt this way about exercise.  On some days, I still don't, but those days are getting rarer.  On these "off" days, I find that I lie to myself (like that one about the bus.  Maybe I could bench a toy bus though.  So technically not a lie?), but at least now I know well enough that my brain is just telling me fibs again in order to get me back to the sofa sooner, which is closer to the cake. I'm sure it means well.  It's hard to stay angry at a body part with such a strong devotion to getting me cake.

From personal experience and speaking to others, I think a lot of these lies are universal barriers to living more actively, so I'm writing them down in the hope that people like me will see them and realise that they're just dastardly fibbers too.  Here goes:

1.  I'm not a natural
Who is?  For every Usain Bolt there are fifty bazillion gajillion (fact.  I counted on my fingers. I have a lot of fingers) "regular" people who can only learn something and become competent at it by doing that thing over and over and over again.  And then again some more after a snack break.  Pretty sure even Usain has to keep doing the sprinting thing over and over and over again in between filming Virgin Media ads too.  It's not glamorous or easy, but that's just how it is.  And the great thing is that once you "get it" on your bajillion and twelfth go, you can celebrate that little bit harder because you know how much work you put into getting there.  Fuck it, throw in a victory dance if you have the energy!  I did one push up a year or so ago and didn't shut up about it for a week.

Did I mention that I can do a push up now?  Sometimes I can even do two!

2.  I have to be fit already to keep up with group workouts
Nope.  You have to be willing to turn up and do what the workout, even if you come last.  And if the class/gym/running club you've gone to get all sweaty with is any good, coming last will be applauded because you stuck at it until the end.  Also because you are a badass who worked out for longer than everyone else and still had the balls to not take the easy route and give up.  As long as you're doing as much as you can do, everyone there will know that you've tried just as hard as them.  If not harder. Go you and your balls!

3.  I don't look the part
If you have at least a semi functioning human body, you look the part. In the running club I used to go to, I often used to think I looked like a three legged pug chasing after gazelles. When I started CrossFit, I thought I looked like Tim Burton drew my arms on in comparison with some of the gun shows on display there.  I don't look that much different now, but I don't care because I'm constantly finding out I can do things that I previously thought I couldn't.  No one is judging you for how you look. 

4.  I've been doing this a while now and I'm not getting "good" fast enough
First of all, what does "good" mean?  How do you quantify it? "Good" is such a vague notion that if you strive for this alone, you'll never feel like you're enough.  This is the one I'm worst for and I continually have to "logic" myself out of it.  When you see people progress at a faster rate than you, or worse, you see someone who is totally new at what you've been doing for ages best your efforts right away, it can be heart breaking.  You have two options here; Give up, go home and cry into some ice cream or remember that everyone is different and you can probably do something that they covet...and then go happily eat some ice cream.  Either way, you get ice cream.  What was the point I was trying to make again? 

 Small weights, big improvement considering I couldn't lift a plastic bar over my head without getting a bit of a wobble on (not an exaggeration) 2 years ago.

5.  I can't do it
Unless it's reciting the Russian alphabet backwards and simultaneously inventing time travel (Wait! Do you think that's how we can crack time travel?  Who speaks Russian and how can I copyright that idea? Dibs on that idea!) yep, you can.  Slow down, concentrate on doing what you're doing well and safely (ask a coach/trainer/magical gym genie if you're not sure how) and keep going. You'll get there, if only so you can turn around to your past self and those people who are in the same place you were and tell them that it's 100% possible.

I've nicked  borrowed all the photos (bar the "pint cow" one) in this post from Outcast CrossFit Swansea's Facebook page.  If anyone from the Swansea area wants to join in in having sweaty times (ooh, matron!) with a bunch of people who are so supportive that you'll end up regularly going on the internet to spout about fitness despite being heavily under qualified to offer fitness advice, this is a great place to start.  It's not a cult, honest.

Outcast CrossFit - Swansea

 "One of us!  One of us!" 

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

Marathon Training Week 6/Evidence That I'm An Adult

Happy chocolate coma bonanza weekend!! Or "Jesus-Is-Back, hooray!" weekend, if your leanings border more on the spiritual than the gluttonous.  Something for everyone, is Easter! I've had a bit of a crappy week running-wise, so I'm not going to go into too much detail on that subject today.  Been over thinking everything from my speed to stupid things like how I position my thumbs, making the experience a bazillion times harder for myself.  I ran, walked and dragged myself around thirteen tough miles this week.  How I'm going to do that distance twice over in one run in June is beyond me.  But, knowing me, a bad week wod usually followed by a good one, so we'll leave it at a summary of my week, move on and hope for a better one next week!

Mon     Rest day
Tues    5 miles
Weds   Rest day
Thurs   3 miles
Fri        13 miles
Sat       Rest day/hang over (what? It's Easter!)
Sun     4 sicky, too hot-nightmare miles

Now that's out of the way, the topic I'm going to be covering today is grown-upishness.  I am twenty seven years young (sonny Jim!), and now that Spring is ...err...springing (?), my Facebook feed is turning into a combination of two different kinds of status update.  The classic Disney film Bambi was right all along.  Spring gets everybody twitterpated.  For those who haven't seen Bambi (what? How haven't you seen Bambi?  Did you not have a childhood?!):

 Here are the two statuses that I've been subject to:

Status One: Holy shit, we've made a human out of our combined DNA!

Status Two:  Hurrah! We are contractually tying ourselves together as a public display of our enduring affections!

No complaints about the presence of these statuses.  Number one blows my mind because it  amazes me that people can make people out of themselves and number two is always good news because parties!  Big, glamorous parties with dancing and friends!

It just weirds me out that my friends and I are at the age where spawning and conjoining are normal things that happen now.  I am still a teenager in my mind, and have no bigger responsibility than keeping myself alive - a task monumental enough on its own.  I'm hard work!

So, I've been thinking (oh dear).  There are many, many more than two ways to feel like a grown-up. Despite my enduring love for sweets and near total lack of attention span 

Hey, look, there's a dog outside!  Hahaha, stupid dog...

...I can't avoid that I am getting older.  I may not have a human in my pipe works, or a contractual agreement to like somebod indefinitely, but I am terrifyingly, undeniably climbing the ladder to adulthood. Evidence:

  
1.  I have a pension!  I have no idea how much I put into it each month or how it works.  I could have signed up for the big boss to feed rolled up wads of my cash to their chihuahua once a month for all I know, but it makes me feel like a functioning adult to say I have one. 

2.  I am ridiculously hypersensitive about how everything I do/think/eat affects my health.  This doesn't necessarily lead to better decisions, but at least I'm aware of how much visceral fat I'm clogging myself with whenever I have an ill advised Maoam/cheese/Pringles feast just because I can't think of anything better to do at the time. 

3.  I think about buying a house.  A lot.  So far, A and I have saved up enough to purchase maybe a toilet and a "Welcome" mat, but, hey, everyone needs a toilet. 

4.  Night times - especially week nights - are for waiting until bedtime.  I LOVE bedtime!  After the day's final bout of eating and sitting down is done, all I can think about is how much longer I have to wait before crawling under the squashy duvet and waiting for sweet, sweet unconsciousness.  Even if "sweet unconsciousness" can sometimes mean the cat swatting my face to be let out, A snoring and me having the kinds of dreams that would terrify the most experienced of shrinks. 

5.  I have managed to live happily in the same rented accommodation for over three years now with not even a twinge of an urge to decorate it.  It is a student-esque cesspit of dishes and floor-drobes (posh for "piles of clothes eveywhere but the actual wardrobe").  I have recently been experiencing a scarily strong compulsion to go out and buy curtains.  Curtains!  

6.  I watch Homes Under The Hammer out of choice.  I got out of bed specifically to watch it this morning.  When did that start happening?! 

7.  I am three years off the big three-oh, but in order to soften the blow of the inevitability of not being in my twenties anymore, I have begun to prematurely identify as a thirty year old.  Self defense mechanism, I think. 

8.   A trip to Starbucks and a walk "somewhere outdoorsy" is now an idea of a nice day out for me. 

9.  I use the term "nice day out." 
 

 I trust you're all having a lovely weekend, packed with "nice days out" and either binge drinking or going to places that your kids give you access to that would otherwise make you look like a creepy weirdo (petting zoo, anyone?).  Now.  Who's ready to go back to work?  Walter? 

 

"NOOOOOOOO!! You can't make me!!"

Happy Easter! xx

Marathon Training Week 5/ Thunder Chops Strikes Again

Welp, my long run day (better known to myself as "Are-we-there-yet?" Sunday) yesterday was a 50/50 mix of mirth and bitterness.  Woke up in a mood that would have put the shits up Voldemort

Disclaimer: Am not a massive fan of the Harry Potter franchise.  I just needed a villain at short notice, and I assume Voldemort is grumpy because he doesn't really have a nose.  Please don't tell me off if he is one of the cheerier baddies like the Joker.

I decided to be a good little ninja and run to my Run Like a Ninja course, but instead, I punched four miles through weather conditions best described as "fuck no!" Also, very nearly got shat on by three birds that decided to drop their guts from above in oddly impressive synchronicity next to me.  My hamstrings were stiff, I had a face like thunder and my brain felt like it had the consistency of chewed-up pudding.  

After some sage advice from someone who recognised that I was suffering from a severe case of Thunder Chops that a few good miles is much better than loads of horrible, struggly ones, I bravely went home and filled my face with snacks instead of facing the extra eight miles I had left to make up the twelve that my training plan required.  Feeling much more human as a result, and am able to look back at the week I had and notice that pretty much every decision I made was the decision of dipshit.  This is what my week looked like:

Mon     CrossFit. Should have been a rest day.
Tues    Rest day.  Should have been 4 miles, but my legs were screaming profanities at me because of previous night's activities (squats, sprinting etc)
Weds   Rest day
Thurs  3 miles
Fri        4 miles
Sat       More squat-heavy CrossFit, because Monday's error in judgement taught me sweet F.A
Sun      4 bitter, rage-fueled miles followed by Run Like a Ninja, snacks and self pity

Not a pretty week!  On top of merrily flicking the Vs at my training plan, I also ate lots of nutritionally void blocks of food-shaped sugar, and didn't give myself the extra sleep needed for recovery. D'oh.  

Lessons learned:

• Training plans are for FOLLOWING, not eating biscuits over.
•  You can have your cake and eat it, but you can do bugger all else afterwards.
•  For the love of God woman, sleep!!

 I have a lot of epiphanies, but the do get a bit samey sometimes.  Sort it out, brain.
 

Yesterday evening made up for the daytime anyhow.  Especially after the hour long coma I let myself fall into the moment I set foot back inside my house.  Woke up in bed in my bra and pants with no clue how I'd got myself there.  It was marvelous!  

Went to see the beautiful super brain that is Dylan Moran in the night;  The comedy figure that taught me as a teenager that you can intensely fancy someone based solely on the way that they speak.  

Apart from the fact that I was seated near someone whose body odour reminded me of Quavers and feet (pisses me off that you can ask someone to be quiet in a crowded environment like that, but not to stop attacking your olfactory receptors.  "Please stop smelling like bins, I'm trying to enjoy myself!"),  I had a brilliant night.  The show flew by, and I left the building looking like that Emoji with the tears running down its face.  His climactic joke was his own homage to 50 Shades of Grey in which a man with a cleft palate and a duffel coat is sexually accosted by a mad lady hiding in his bathroom.  Steamy stuff.

I thought that today's list-y thing would tie in nicely with the kind of day I had/the type of comedy I got to watch.  *Clears throat*

10 Little Things that Piss Me Off More Than They Probably Should

1.  People who smell badly for no good (medical or otherwise) reason other than they don't wash.  As a creepy sniffer of things with quite a sensitive, pointy nose, I hate nothing more than having my senses invaded by eggy/Quavery/Dead animal-y smelling individuals.  

2.  People who ask questions and then don't listen to the answer/talk over it.  Hypocritical one, because I'm guilty of this.

3.  5 pence pieces.  They are too small and silly to be respected as currency.

4.  My total inability to read and listen to music at the same time.  It looks so relaxing when they do it on the telly!

5.  Noises  I can't control e.g my keys clanking in my pocket, or my bra doing that horrible, squeaky thing.

6.  Bad grammar/spelling.  But I love these videos!   

Jacksfilms - Your Grammar Sucks

7.  Facebook/Twitter/My iPhone and how I need to be constantly looking at all of the above.

8.   My own innate laziness that I have to do battle with every day to not turn into an unproductive human potato.  Every day I walk a fine line between functioning person out in real world and person shaped pile of mash on sofa. Mmm.  Mash.

9.  The back of other people's heads.  I don't think I've ever had a clear view of an entire gig before.  I know that the vast majority of adult humans can't help by be taller than my 5ft 2 or 3 (pretty sure am shrinking too), but I'm sure I will one day set someone's hair on fire with the intensity of my glare.

10.  Having to travel home from anywhere.  In this day and age, why haven't we invented teleportation yet?

I'll leave you with those heart warming thoughts as I go sit in a rain streaked window and glare into a cup of tea. If I failed to spread good cheer, you can watch the following video by the ture master of all things grump about how you should give your potential a wide berth.  Happy Monday!

Dylan Moran on potential from his brilliant DVD Monster