Sorry I haven't written in a while; I've been de-cluttering my life - a.k.a. de-Knighting my phone's Inbox.
But now that's done, I've ventured outside my house. So far I haven't had another Fishing Trip (but give me time!!) and RF has cancelled our meeting up to "practise for his diploma" (what the hell's a diploma, anyway?!).
Today my Ma told me we were going to go and have our nails done in this new polish called...Shellac I think? It's a UV paint that sticks on your nails for weeks without chipping a.k.a. Magic. Well, I was told that Prince's Mum's friend was going to do it, so I expected we would drive to her house. Naturally, therefore, I was non-plussed that I had overslept and thereby didn't have time to wash my greasy-to-the-touch hair. Instead I stuck a cap on. Similarly, I took 2 minutes choosing my outfit - a pair of blue jeans and a black "Girl Power" top which I've had for 4 years and amazingly still fits. Likewise, I couldn't care less when I somehow smeared deodrant down the side of the t-shirt whilst in a franctic rush to get ready.
You can imagine my surprise, therefore, when - to my horror - my mother tells me we are going to Prince's house. Oh, yes. I went to Prince's house dressed like a hobo.
Thankfully he didn't come down the stairs for a looong time - although, that did create a lot of suspense. My head kept switching to the door whenever I heard the stairs creaking, in case it was him but, to my dismay, it was usually his cat.
My heart started acting like it was on speed when I looked up and saw him there in the doorway. I couldn't think of a single thing to say so I just smiled like a goof.
And he didn't say anything to me, but went into the kitchen to tease my Ma. Without thinking I followed him to the kitchen and "poured myself a drink" even though I had no intention of drinking whatever substance I was pouring into the cup. Instead I just looked at Prince and let my heart beat away at a speed that would rival the cars on Top Gear.
I texted Bazz since I was, once again, under Prince's spell even though I didn't say a word to him and he left minutes later to go to his football match. We've named the mission to get to know Prince better Mission Impossible because I don't think even Tom Cruise would be able to crack this code.
I'm sure there are other people like me out there who have major crushes on "family friends" - a.k.a. people that are Off Bounds. So, what's a girl to do?
Who knows? I'm seeing Bazz later on so we'll be able to talk then.
If I'm honest I'm just over the moon that I'm no longer moping over a certain Knob...
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
Saturday 28 July 2012
Tuesday 24 July 2012
Fishing Trip One
I'll admit I had my doubts. I mean, I have no idea where the good fishing (and by this I mean boy) spots are. A skatepark would be too desperate and a cafe would not have a high chance of success. It seems that "fishing trips" cannot be planned - they just happen. And that's what happened today.
Yesterday I was worried that it would never ever happen - that I'd remain a spinster and my only interaction with the opposite sex would be some adolescent honking at me from his car, rolling the windows down and showing me his middle finger (this has happened on 2 occasions now - and they say that chivalry is dead...!).
But today me and some of my friends went to Hyde Park which, by the way, was super fun. We went on those pedalos and I feel exercised - I know I know, I'm turning into a Gym Goddess (OK, well. no...but let me pretend!). Well then we spontaneously decided to go swimming. At only 80p entry for the swimming bit of the lake it was pretty hard to say no.
Being a water baby, I couldn't resist the chance to go proper swimming - as opposed to dipping my feet in - and I idiotically went all the way in - with the water up to my neck! - and, yes, my knickers/bra/shorts/top got drenched, but it was oddly worth it.
When we got out these really cute Italian lifeguards started talking to us and, according to my friends, one of the guys (by name of Lorenzo) was flirting with me. Harrumph it seems unlikely - I mean, I had dirt covering my shirt pocket and my hair stank of sewage! Nonetheless, they insisted he was, and then later my friend said that this other lifeguard was "hitting on" me. Again, I'm dubious.
But I'd love to believe it was true because they were PHWOAR.
Right, so the whole flirting thing with Lorenzo. It's pretty short:
L: Are you ladies OK? (this is after we emerge from the water, me dripping literally from head to toe)
Me: *thumbs up* We're good. Hey, do you know where I can get a towel from?
L: *in his cute Italian accent* A...towel?
Me: *motioning wrapping myself in a towel* Yeah a towel
L: Oh! Yes you must go to the till and hire one, but if you tell them Lorenzo sent you then it's free *cutest smile I've ever seen*.
I don't understand how the second lifeguard situation was at all flirtation. I mean, he just remarked that I had a lot of change (this was at the towel hire place) and asked if I went to church often (apparently you get a lot of change there - which I still don't get!).
Something that my friends told me did slightly worry me, though. I cannot flirt. I know I said before [http://grammar-gal.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/flirting-complex.html ] that I never have flirted and I don't understand why girls do, but I didn't know that I was incapable of doing so. As in, I find flirting as easy as eating yoghurt with a fork. Not happening.
I talked to my Relationship Guru, RF, and he says that the key to a guy's heart is flattery - returning compliments etc... but also playing hard to get.
It all sounds so complex - why can't we just march up to the guy and make a huminahuminahumina-aah sound. I bet that's how they did it in the old days before books like "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" came out. My attempts at flattery today included...well I answered his question about the church - I said "No I don't". There you go - that's communication, the foundation to any relationship.. Oh, who am I kidding!?
Anyways, this fishing trip has sparked hope and has numbed, nay eradicated, the embarrassment of sending the Knob (formerly known as Knight - look, times change and names change...) ANOTHER text. What is wrong with me?!
Sigh.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Yesterday I was worried that it would never ever happen - that I'd remain a spinster and my only interaction with the opposite sex would be some adolescent honking at me from his car, rolling the windows down and showing me his middle finger (this has happened on 2 occasions now - and they say that chivalry is dead...!).
But today me and some of my friends went to Hyde Park which, by the way, was super fun. We went on those pedalos and I feel exercised - I know I know, I'm turning into a Gym Goddess (OK, well. no...but let me pretend!). Well then we spontaneously decided to go swimming. At only 80p entry for the swimming bit of the lake it was pretty hard to say no.
Being a water baby, I couldn't resist the chance to go proper swimming - as opposed to dipping my feet in - and I idiotically went all the way in - with the water up to my neck! - and, yes, my knickers/bra/shorts/top got drenched, but it was oddly worth it.
When we got out these really cute Italian lifeguards started talking to us and, according to my friends, one of the guys (by name of Lorenzo) was flirting with me. Harrumph it seems unlikely - I mean, I had dirt covering my shirt pocket and my hair stank of sewage! Nonetheless, they insisted he was, and then later my friend said that this other lifeguard was "hitting on" me. Again, I'm dubious.
But I'd love to believe it was true because they were PHWOAR.
Right, so the whole flirting thing with Lorenzo. It's pretty short:
L: Are you ladies OK? (this is after we emerge from the water, me dripping literally from head to toe)
Me: *thumbs up* We're good. Hey, do you know where I can get a towel from?
L: *in his cute Italian accent* A...towel?
Me: *motioning wrapping myself in a towel* Yeah a towel
L: Oh! Yes you must go to the till and hire one, but if you tell them Lorenzo sent you then it's free *cutest smile I've ever seen*.
I don't understand how the second lifeguard situation was at all flirtation. I mean, he just remarked that I had a lot of change (this was at the towel hire place) and asked if I went to church often (apparently you get a lot of change there - which I still don't get!).
Something that my friends told me did slightly worry me, though. I cannot flirt. I know I said before [http://grammar-gal.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/flirting-complex.html ] that I never have flirted and I don't understand why girls do, but I didn't know that I was incapable of doing so. As in, I find flirting as easy as eating yoghurt with a fork. Not happening.
I talked to my Relationship Guru, RF, and he says that the key to a guy's heart is flattery - returning compliments etc... but also playing hard to get.
It all sounds so complex - why can't we just march up to the guy and make a huminahuminahumina-aah sound. I bet that's how they did it in the old days before books like "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" came out. My attempts at flattery today included...well I answered his question about the church - I said "No I don't". There you go - that's communication, the foundation to any relationship.. Oh, who am I kidding!?
Anyways, this fishing trip has sparked hope and has numbed, nay eradicated, the embarrassment of sending the Knob (formerly known as Knight - look, times change and names change...) ANOTHER text. What is wrong with me?!
Sigh.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Sunday 22 July 2012
Overcoming my kryptonite: Bikini Shopping
Since I can remember, shopping in general has always made me either
A. Sit down in shops, bored out of my mind
B. (Want to) Cry out of tiredness or the stressfulness of shopping.
C. Want to be a boy so I can just wear the same shirt for 365 days of the year.
I mean, shopping is just the most stressful activity. When you're looking for clothes it's not too bad and that bit can be bearable. The drama starts in the changing rooms - especially the ones with curtains. No mater what shop you go in these curtains will never fully cover the rail and there will always be a little gap where people could see you changing. Then there's the fact that wih a curtain your mother thinks it's perfectly OK to open them slightly to talk to you or thrust more clothes into the room. Meanwhile, everyone else in the changing room gets a glimpse of you in your undies.
All of this makes B and C inevitable. But years of experience have made me realise that there is a branch of shopping which is so dire that it makes regular shopping look as fun as jumping out of a plane whilst strapped to a gorgeous instructor: bikini shopping.
There are a number of things which I find bloody annoying abut bikini shopping:
1. It involves having to remove 95% of your clothing to try it on, meaning you're in a manic rush to pull the triangle-shaped bra thing on before your mother pulls away the curtain to give you more to try on.
2. Sometimes your mother/family member will wait for you to voluntarily open the curtain and show them what you look like (which, in my case, is often a state - I certainly do not suit bikinis what with my small upper half and rather larger bottom..!)
But this time I went bikini shopping the shops had DOORS. Personally, I would love to write to David Cameron to insist that all shops in England have doors as opposed to curtains. This way you are prepared for if your mother wants to talk to you by the turn of the handle and you can tell her to wait or can make yourself decent. AND no-one can see you through a slit in the curtain, even though my mother always insists that it's "no big deal" since "we're all girls here, silly" (but tell that to the line of guys waiting for their girflriends harrumph). So, anyway, I was a lot less stressed out this time - despite the fact that the first bikini made my boobs look the size of tiny cupakes and the dress I tried on was on wrong - the straps were all over the place, which the sales assistant pointed out as I looked for my mother in the waiting line (AS IF I DIDN'T KNOW harrumph).
With this cooler state of mind I did neither A nor B, though I cannot deny that C was still rather appealing. In fact I voluntarily stepped out of my changing room space in my bikini and walked to my mother. Major improvement!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
A. Sit down in shops, bored out of my mind
B. (Want to) Cry out of tiredness or the stressfulness of shopping.
C. Want to be a boy so I can just wear the same shirt for 365 days of the year.
I mean, shopping is just the most stressful activity. When you're looking for clothes it's not too bad and that bit can be bearable. The drama starts in the changing rooms - especially the ones with curtains. No mater what shop you go in these curtains will never fully cover the rail and there will always be a little gap where people could see you changing. Then there's the fact that wih a curtain your mother thinks it's perfectly OK to open them slightly to talk to you or thrust more clothes into the room. Meanwhile, everyone else in the changing room gets a glimpse of you in your undies.
All of this makes B and C inevitable. But years of experience have made me realise that there is a branch of shopping which is so dire that it makes regular shopping look as fun as jumping out of a plane whilst strapped to a gorgeous instructor: bikini shopping.
There are a number of things which I find bloody annoying abut bikini shopping:
1. It involves having to remove 95% of your clothing to try it on, meaning you're in a manic rush to pull the triangle-shaped bra thing on before your mother pulls away the curtain to give you more to try on.
2. Sometimes your mother/family member will wait for you to voluntarily open the curtain and show them what you look like (which, in my case, is often a state - I certainly do not suit bikinis what with my small upper half and rather larger bottom..!)
But this time I went bikini shopping the shops had DOORS. Personally, I would love to write to David Cameron to insist that all shops in England have doors as opposed to curtains. This way you are prepared for if your mother wants to talk to you by the turn of the handle and you can tell her to wait or can make yourself decent. AND no-one can see you through a slit in the curtain, even though my mother always insists that it's "no big deal" since "we're all girls here, silly" (but tell that to the line of guys waiting for their girflriends harrumph). So, anyway, I was a lot less stressed out this time - despite the fact that the first bikini made my boobs look the size of tiny cupakes and the dress I tried on was on wrong - the straps were all over the place, which the sales assistant pointed out as I looked for my mother in the waiting line (AS IF I DIDN'T KNOW harrumph).
With this cooler state of mind I did neither A nor B, though I cannot deny that C was still rather appealing. In fact I voluntarily stepped out of my changing room space in my bikini and walked to my mother. Major improvement!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
Thursday 19 July 2012
Well there's always Sir Mix-A-Lot...
Now I'm no scientist but I'm fairly sure that pantalones (and by that I mean knickers) that are a size too big should fit one's arse. You can imagine my surprise, therefore, when I realised that this piece of...fabric could barely cover my hand let alone my bottom.
If only I could get a refund but, alas, I had decided to grit my teeth, get the blooming pair on and hobble around uncomfortably all day just to prove to M&S that they hadn't been a waste of money. Only now, naturally, I cannot take them back.
It appears that God has given me a larger bottom than brain.
I'm never sure about the whole Bum Issue. See, I feel that I've been told too many differing things.
Firstly, Sir Mix-A-lot told me that he likes big butts and he cannot lie. So I assumed that having a more...comfortable bottom was seen as more desirable and was naturally chuffed at having being born with this feature.
Then the Women's Magazines came along and told me that I should be taking these 100 Steps To A Better Bikini Body (which includes a smaller bottom). These articles, accompanied with the pictures of stars like Megan Fox and Jennifer Anniston, made it clear that Smaller Is Supposedly Better.
And then there's the fact that the only pair on knickers that are comfortable for me are Large Bridget Jones styled "Granny-pants" which, I won't lie, make my bottom feel like it's in heaven. To me, a G-string is synonymous with the word "torture" and it would take a LOT of persuading in the form of: Terry's Chocolate Orange/ Twirls / Nutella Biscuits / unlimited episodes of Emmerdale to make me voluntarily wear a pair.
Incidentally, Emmerdale is my new all-time favourite thing.
I'm sure that loads of girls my age are at parties right now and doing other badass stuff; but me? I get my kicks out of watching, transfixed, as Laurel and Marlon declare their undying love for each other.
Oh, shush, it was a magical moment!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
If only I could get a refund but, alas, I had decided to grit my teeth, get the blooming pair on and hobble around uncomfortably all day just to prove to M&S that they hadn't been a waste of money. Only now, naturally, I cannot take them back.
It appears that God has given me a larger bottom than brain.
I'm never sure about the whole Bum Issue. See, I feel that I've been told too many differing things.
Firstly, Sir Mix-A-lot told me that he likes big butts and he cannot lie. So I assumed that having a more...comfortable bottom was seen as more desirable and was naturally chuffed at having being born with this feature.
Then the Women's Magazines came along and told me that I should be taking these 100 Steps To A Better Bikini Body (which includes a smaller bottom). These articles, accompanied with the pictures of stars like Megan Fox and Jennifer Anniston, made it clear that Smaller Is Supposedly Better.
And then there's the fact that the only pair on knickers that are comfortable for me are Large Bridget Jones styled "Granny-pants" which, I won't lie, make my bottom feel like it's in heaven. To me, a G-string is synonymous with the word "torture" and it would take a LOT of persuading in the form of: Terry's Chocolate Orange/ Twirls / Nutella Biscuits / unlimited episodes of Emmerdale to make me voluntarily wear a pair.
Incidentally, Emmerdale is my new all-time favourite thing.
I'm sure that loads of girls my age are at parties right now and doing other badass stuff; but me? I get my kicks out of watching, transfixed, as Laurel and Marlon declare their undying love for each other.
Oh, shush, it was a magical moment!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Tuesday 17 July 2012
Gym Goddess Status Achieved :D & Knight Update
I'm pleased to say that I've just got back from a most relaxing weekend at the Lake District where I, Grammar Gal, walked 6 AND A HALF MILES :O
I mean, that means I'm practically qualified to run a marathon.
Today I tried to start some work (pfft) and went to the library where there was a surprising amount of fishes swimming (metaphorically speaking of course). However they all irritated me - one of them had this annoying cough/sneeze which was just bizarre; another guy was listening to music on full blast. In the library. It was madness. Then there was the boy next to me who was laughing every 5 minutes at whatever was on his screen. I was not amused.
Eurgh and I have only disappointing news to report about Knight - his girlfriend has updated a picture of both of them. That's right. It's now official - like the marriage license of boyfriend/girlfriend relationships. Sigh.
And I haven't heard from RF since prom. Although that's probably for the best - I mean, we had nothing in common so nothing's really been lost there. Then again, it does mean that I've lost my Relationship Guru and now I'm completely clueless.
Oh well - onwards and upwards, chums!
Tomorrow I have to stay at home* but on Thursday I'm supposedly having a lunch with some friends :')
*Right, well, I texted Knight at 2:30 AM asking if he wanted to meet up on Wednesday, realised that that was a stupid thing to ask since we have nothing to talk about and it would be beyond awkward, covered it up by apologising for sending the text to the wrong person, got to talking to him about his life (he's been kicked out of school :/ ), asked him if he wanted to meet up AGAIN (seriously, I think I have a problem!) and he didn't answer (surprise surprise). So now I cannot leave my house tomorrow because, knowing my luck, I'd run into him and he'd wonder why I wasn't with the guy I claimed to be meeting up with. Lying is too much effort...
I mean, that means I'm practically qualified to run a marathon.
Today I tried to start some work (pfft) and went to the library where there was a surprising amount of fishes swimming (metaphorically speaking of course). However they all irritated me - one of them had this annoying cough/sneeze which was just bizarre; another guy was listening to music on full blast. In the library. It was madness. Then there was the boy next to me who was laughing every 5 minutes at whatever was on his screen. I was not amused.
Eurgh and I have only disappointing news to report about Knight - his girlfriend has updated a picture of both of them. That's right. It's now official - like the marriage license of boyfriend/girlfriend relationships. Sigh.
And I haven't heard from RF since prom. Although that's probably for the best - I mean, we had nothing in common so nothing's really been lost there. Then again, it does mean that I've lost my Relationship Guru and now I'm completely clueless.
Oh well - onwards and upwards, chums!
Tomorrow I have to stay at home* but on Thursday I'm supposedly having a lunch with some friends :')
*Right, well, I texted Knight at 2:30 AM asking if he wanted to meet up on Wednesday, realised that that was a stupid thing to ask since we have nothing to talk about and it would be beyond awkward, covered it up by apologising for sending the text to the wrong person, got to talking to him about his life (he's been kicked out of school :/ ), asked him if he wanted to meet up AGAIN (seriously, I think I have a problem!) and he didn't answer (surprise surprise). So now I cannot leave my house tomorrow because, knowing my luck, I'd run into him and he'd wonder why I wasn't with the guy I claimed to be meeting up with. Lying is too much effort...
Friday 13 July 2012
Bright Lights Syndrome & Journey home: NYC Day 4
Well, we packed uber-quickly in the morning and then we went off to Central Park (taking a taxi there because you know what they say: 'When in Rome do as the Romans do...'). Central Park was just as I remembered it from my last visit to NYC and was also gorgeous. But instead of exploring the park, we sat down and read. Classic Grammar Gals that we are :')
Well I discovered as we left the park and I saw the multitude of yellow cabs going by, that I had fallen in love with New York (cliché as it is) and that I'd developed Bright Lights Syndrome (I love the beauty of it). Nonetheless it was time to go home.
The plane journey was...well, most of the plane was filled with Americans so it was quite interesting to eavesdrop on their conversations. Apparently one guy was being excluded from a group but he 'didn't care'. At first I thought I was going to kill the two American girls behind us who kept kicking our chairs and complaining about
1. The plane pillow being too hard
2. The plane not going fast enough
3. The plane taking so long for lift-off
4. The noise the plane was making
However, once the plane was off I stuck in my iPod and all was well :')
So, that sums up my trip to New York! I'm afraid I'm pretty tired so I'm aware I've missed out quite a lot but, in a nutshell, it was an awesome trip and I'll totally return when I'm 21... ;)
Well I discovered as we left the park and I saw the multitude of yellow cabs going by, that I had fallen in love with New York (cliché as it is) and that I'd developed Bright Lights Syndrome (I love the beauty of it). Nonetheless it was time to go home.
The plane journey was...well, most of the plane was filled with Americans so it was quite interesting to eavesdrop on their conversations. Apparently one guy was being excluded from a group but he 'didn't care'. At first I thought I was going to kill the two American girls behind us who kept kicking our chairs and complaining about
1. The plane pillow being too hard
2. The plane not going fast enough
3. The plane taking so long for lift-off
4. The noise the plane was making
However, once the plane was off I stuck in my iPod and all was well :')
So, that sums up my trip to New York! I'm afraid I'm pretty tired so I'm aware I've missed out quite a lot but, in a nutshell, it was an awesome trip and I'll totally return when I'm 21... ;)
Retail Therapy & Release your inner American: NYC Day 3
On day 3 I woke up missing Knight which was plain silly considering he has a girlfriend and I was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Nonetheless I needed therapy: retail therapy. So that's what we did - we spent. Michael Kors, Guess, Abercrombie, Zara, Urban Outfitters... And who knew that shopping - even if it's just window shopping in places - could be so fun?!
We shopped for 7 HOURS - the longest I have ever voluntarily shopped in my life. By the end of it my wallet was weeping, my feet were aching and we were both feeling pretty exhausted. When we got back to the hotel the hotel staff asked us out for a drink (which was nice of them) but, of course, you have to be 21 which we're not... But instead of calling it an early night we went up the Empire State Building.
It was beautiful. The lights were twinkling and these massive flies were flying (no shit, Sherlock!) around and looking bizarrely cute. We both enjoyed ourselves but not as much as this preppy American couple - they were REALLY excited - as in, they were having pictures taken with the people working there and taking pictures of the lift/elevator and gushing about their excitement. It was really sweet and I've come to realise that this is the Stereotypical American - very bubbly and happy. So I urge y'all - and myself included - to release your inner American. Sure, I wasn't in the best of moods when I went up the Empire State, what with the tiredness, but in future we must all release our preppy kid from the USA that lives within us all :')
I realised when we got back to the hotel that I am only able to really release my Inner Preppy American when I'm with Knight which is inconvenient since he's with his girlfriend no. Then thoughts about him and her sharing a tent at Reading creeped into my thoughts and stayed there for the rest of the night. That, combined with the blue flashy light, made sleep impossible that night meaning I wasn't exactly fresh in the morning for the journey home...
We shopped for 7 HOURS - the longest I have ever voluntarily shopped in my life. By the end of it my wallet was weeping, my feet were aching and we were both feeling pretty exhausted. When we got back to the hotel the hotel staff asked us out for a drink (which was nice of them) but, of course, you have to be 21 which we're not... But instead of calling it an early night we went up the Empire State Building.
It was beautiful. The lights were twinkling and these massive flies were flying (no shit, Sherlock!) around and looking bizarrely cute. We both enjoyed ourselves but not as much as this preppy American couple - they were REALLY excited - as in, they were having pictures taken with the people working there and taking pictures of the lift/elevator and gushing about their excitement. It was really sweet and I've come to realise that this is the Stereotypical American - very bubbly and happy. So I urge y'all - and myself included - to release your inner American. Sure, I wasn't in the best of moods when I went up the Empire State, what with the tiredness, but in future we must all release our preppy kid from the USA that lives within us all :')
I realised when we got back to the hotel that I am only able to really release my Inner Preppy American when I'm with Knight which is inconvenient since he's with his girlfriend no. Then thoughts about him and her sharing a tent at Reading creeped into my thoughts and stayed there for the rest of the night. That, combined with the blue flashy light, made sleep impossible that night meaning I wasn't exactly fresh in the morning for the journey home...
The Day I Discovered Heaven: NYC Day 2
On the second day we started shopping - we went to Macy's where I didn't and still don't understand what a department store is or how it works... Then we went to Heaven - a.k.a. Forever 21 where the quality was Topshop standard but with Primark prices :')
On Day 2 I also became aware of the vast contrast between Americans and the British. I mean, the waitresses in this restaurant were so friendly and many of the American tourists we saw were so happy and chirpy! Don't get me wrong, my sister and I are happy people but the Americans we met were super happy and lovely.
On Day 2 I also discovered the Ultimate Man Supplement: smores. This is like a sticky marshmallow/chocolate dessert which was just...amazing. Literally, the nicest thing I've ever eaten in my life (no exaggeration!). I'm actually considering writing to David Cameron about how we don't have smores here in England. It's a very serious issue - many people will go through life never having eaten them and that is just tragic.
So, brunch was great that day - scampi and smores = match made in heaven.
But dinner consisted of half of a bagel and a "hot dog". Now, the "hot dog" is in "s because I didn't get to eat mine. In true "ditzy" (according to my sister- which is just so rude :O ) fashion, I wasn't looking whilst crossing the road and I dropped my hot dog - which I had been saving for the hotel - onto the floor but, naturally, it slipped down my cream&purple dress first. On the picture one of my friends told me that it looked like I'd been sick on myself. Splendid.
The day was also slightly marred by the fact that my hair was as greasy as a Domino's pizza since the shower looked really intimidating and, also, we overslept and I had no time!
Then that evening we went and saw Evita which was amazing. On the way out we had a craving for chocolate so we went over to Toys R Us (like all the cool kids do of course) and bought some chocolate. It was heaven in a bar.
That night was pretty hard to sleep in since there was this constant blue flashy light outside our hotel window of a Celine Dione advertisement which was accompanied by people randomly screaming "WOOOOOO" for around 2 hours in the wee hours of the morning...
Regardless, I still preferred it to the silence of suburbia!
On Day 2 I also became aware of the vast contrast between Americans and the British. I mean, the waitresses in this restaurant were so friendly and many of the American tourists we saw were so happy and chirpy! Don't get me wrong, my sister and I are happy people but the Americans we met were super happy and lovely.
On Day 2 I also discovered the Ultimate Man Supplement: smores. This is like a sticky marshmallow/chocolate dessert which was just...amazing. Literally, the nicest thing I've ever eaten in my life (no exaggeration!). I'm actually considering writing to David Cameron about how we don't have smores here in England. It's a very serious issue - many people will go through life never having eaten them and that is just tragic.
So, brunch was great that day - scampi and smores = match made in heaven.
But dinner consisted of half of a bagel and a "hot dog". Now, the "hot dog" is in "s because I didn't get to eat mine. In true "ditzy" (according to my sister- which is just so rude :O ) fashion, I wasn't looking whilst crossing the road and I dropped my hot dog - which I had been saving for the hotel - onto the floor but, naturally, it slipped down my cream&purple dress first. On the picture one of my friends told me that it looked like I'd been sick on myself. Splendid.
The day was also slightly marred by the fact that my hair was as greasy as a Domino's pizza since the shower looked really intimidating and, also, we overslept and I had no time!
Then that evening we went and saw Evita which was amazing. On the way out we had a craving for chocolate so we went over to Toys R Us (like all the cool kids do of course) and bought some chocolate. It was heaven in a bar.
That night was pretty hard to sleep in since there was this constant blue flashy light outside our hotel window of a Celine Dione advertisement which was accompanied by people randomly screaming "WOOOOOO" for around 2 hours in the wee hours of the morning...
Regardless, I still preferred it to the silence of suburbia!
Thursday 12 July 2012
Miss Unorganised
Apologies! Yesterday I had fully intended to type up les events of NYC but I went to the library, realised I had no key, ran back home where (thankfully) our cleaner was there and she let me in. After that I was too exhausted to work so I naturally watched An Officer And A Gentleman and The Pelican Brief.
Sigh.
And today I overslept, getting up at 12 to give a groggy/grumpy farewell to my sister's boyfriend. I'm just not a morning/afternoon person.
So I actually do need to do some form of work today, depressing as that seems. I blame Knight. True, he cannot be blamed for my sadistic teachers who think I can read AT LEAST 4 BOOKS in the holidays (one of which is Jane Eyre - a book I have always vowed to read but never intended on doing so), but he is to blame for my determination to work. I had originally planned that these holidays would be spent with Knight for the majority of them anyway, but alas no.
I'm sure he's happy with his new girlfriend and I vow to stop calling her words rhyming with Witch and Tut...
The thing is, I don't think girls should be called sluts. I mean, the term 'slut' in general is fine.
Example: "This Halloween I'm dressing up as a slut". That's fine. But labelling other girls as sluts is pretty...barbaric.
If a girl has sex with loads of guys/dresses in a provocative way then people - especially guys - think it's OK to call her a slut (which has negative implications)
If a girl has sex with no-one and dresses conservatively then guys think it's OK to call her frigid (which also has negative implications).
It's a lose-lose situation which is not helped by us girls calling each other sluts.
Then again, if there's a bitchy girl that you know and you call her a 'slut' I'm not going to condemn you - it's your choice what words you use so, no worries, there are no judgements here!
Besides, to be truthful, I think Knight's a slut - so, yeah, I may keep using the term for jerks like him.
Keep you posted with news from NYC I promise!
Grammar Gal xxx
Sigh.
And today I overslept, getting up at 12 to give a groggy/grumpy farewell to my sister's boyfriend. I'm just not a morning/afternoon person.
So I actually do need to do some form of work today, depressing as that seems. I blame Knight. True, he cannot be blamed for my sadistic teachers who think I can read AT LEAST 4 BOOKS in the holidays (one of which is Jane Eyre - a book I have always vowed to read but never intended on doing so), but he is to blame for my determination to work. I had originally planned that these holidays would be spent with Knight for the majority of them anyway, but alas no.
I'm sure he's happy with his new girlfriend and I vow to stop calling her words rhyming with Witch and Tut...
The thing is, I don't think girls should be called sluts. I mean, the term 'slut' in general is fine.
Example: "This Halloween I'm dressing up as a slut". That's fine. But labelling other girls as sluts is pretty...barbaric.
If a girl has sex with loads of guys/dresses in a provocative way then people - especially guys - think it's OK to call her a slut (which has negative implications)
If a girl has sex with no-one and dresses conservatively then guys think it's OK to call her frigid (which also has negative implications).
It's a lose-lose situation which is not helped by us girls calling each other sluts.
Then again, if there's a bitchy girl that you know and you call her a 'slut' I'm not going to condemn you - it's your choice what words you use so, no worries, there are no judgements here!
Besides, to be truthful, I think Knight's a slut - so, yeah, I may keep using the term for jerks like him.
Keep you posted with news from NYC I promise!
Grammar Gal xxx
Wednesday 11 July 2012
Shiny floors and fitt guys: NYC Day One
It seems logical to start with the plane journey.
Well I had pretty much faced that I was going to die. I'm always like that whenever we fly to America - I'm scared the pilot won't be paying attention and we'll just plummet downwards or that our plane could be hijacked. Needless to say, I wasn't feeling partiularly joyful when I took my seat but all of that was about to chamge: we had TVs. Now, I know that most people won't find TVs on a plane particularly brand new information (I mean, some people have TVs in their CARS :O ) but they are truly magical since
A. I was able to watch The Hunger Games which was just fan-fricking-tastic
B. I was able to listen to music. Not going to lie, I listened to the music that I had on my iPod but on the TV because listening to music on the TV wasjust so much more exciting.
Ususally on a plane I have the particularly sneaky tactic of pretending to sleep when the food comes around but this time they actually gave you a choice for what to eat instead of dolloping on your plate a substance which vaguely resembles questionable meat.
Naturally I needed the loo, but oh I hate plane loos. For a start, they are tiny. As in I couldn't stretch out my hand completely since it would hit the door. This just isn't right and I think that if Mr Branson followed my plan then the people in Economy would be a lot more chipper: he should just take away a little bit of space from the First Class cabin or maybe he could just get rid of the mahoosive florescent bar thaIt they have access to. With this extra space he should expand the toilets so that people like me don't feel as if they're weeing in a coffin.
So the toilet experience was just plain awkward but not as awkward as queuing for the toilet in front of a yummy scrummy huminahuminahumina-aaah boy. I mean I didn't want to have to pee in front of him so there was a lot of loitering on my part as I walked away from the loos and then came back when he was out.
The hotel was gorgeous and I would rate it ten billion stars. The loos, however, were like all American loos that I came across in NYC: plain weird. As in, there were large slits down both sides of the door so people could just watch you pee. Call me English but I like to pee in private thank you very much! Then there were the shiny floors which meant that if you looked down then you could literally see the person next to you on the toiler. Not a particularly pleasant sight. So I was doing a little waddle on the toilet to try to stay in the middle of the seat so that I would be less visible to the others in the toilet area who could see me through the doors and I was also looking up to avoid the eyes of the peeps next to me through the shiny floors.
In the City That Never Sleeps my sister and I surprisingly did a lot of sleeping on the first night. A lot. As in we fell asleep at 5:30 and vowed to wake up and get up at 6:00. We woke up at 8:30 and made a 'meh' sound and went back to sleep, not waking until the next day at around 8ish. I blame the jet lag and the inability to sleep on planes. Literally, I've never understood how some people can sleep on planes. Trains? Sure, you can lean on the window seat next to your head. But planes? The window is very uncomfortable to put your head on and if you're in the aisle seat then WHERE DO YOU PUT YOUR HEAD? It kind of just lulls there as you try (and fail) to get in 40 winks. Sigh.
Right well I'm off to the library in the pouring rain (it sounds silly but, let's face it, it rains everyday here so now's as good a time as any!). I'll be back later to write about days 2-4.
xxx
Well I had pretty much faced that I was going to die. I'm always like that whenever we fly to America - I'm scared the pilot won't be paying attention and we'll just plummet downwards or that our plane could be hijacked. Needless to say, I wasn't feeling partiularly joyful when I took my seat but all of that was about to chamge: we had TVs. Now, I know that most people won't find TVs on a plane particularly brand new information (I mean, some people have TVs in their CARS :O ) but they are truly magical since
A. I was able to watch The Hunger Games which was just fan-fricking-tastic
B. I was able to listen to music. Not going to lie, I listened to the music that I had on my iPod but on the TV because listening to music on the TV wasjust so much more exciting.
Ususally on a plane I have the particularly sneaky tactic of pretending to sleep when the food comes around but this time they actually gave you a choice for what to eat instead of dolloping on your plate a substance which vaguely resembles questionable meat.
Naturally I needed the loo, but oh I hate plane loos. For a start, they are tiny. As in I couldn't stretch out my hand completely since it would hit the door. This just isn't right and I think that if Mr Branson followed my plan then the people in Economy would be a lot more chipper: he should just take away a little bit of space from the First Class cabin or maybe he could just get rid of the mahoosive florescent bar thaIt they have access to. With this extra space he should expand the toilets so that people like me don't feel as if they're weeing in a coffin.
So the toilet experience was just plain awkward but not as awkward as queuing for the toilet in front of a yummy scrummy huminahuminahumina-aaah boy. I mean I didn't want to have to pee in front of him so there was a lot of loitering on my part as I walked away from the loos and then came back when he was out.
The hotel was gorgeous and I would rate it ten billion stars. The loos, however, were like all American loos that I came across in NYC: plain weird. As in, there were large slits down both sides of the door so people could just watch you pee. Call me English but I like to pee in private thank you very much! Then there were the shiny floors which meant that if you looked down then you could literally see the person next to you on the toiler. Not a particularly pleasant sight. So I was doing a little waddle on the toilet to try to stay in the middle of the seat so that I would be less visible to the others in the toilet area who could see me through the doors and I was also looking up to avoid the eyes of the peeps next to me through the shiny floors.
In the City That Never Sleeps my sister and I surprisingly did a lot of sleeping on the first night. A lot. As in we fell asleep at 5:30 and vowed to wake up and get up at 6:00. We woke up at 8:30 and made a 'meh' sound and went back to sleep, not waking until the next day at around 8ish. I blame the jet lag and the inability to sleep on planes. Literally, I've never understood how some people can sleep on planes. Trains? Sure, you can lean on the window seat next to your head. But planes? The window is very uncomfortable to put your head on and if you're in the aisle seat then WHERE DO YOU PUT YOUR HEAD? It kind of just lulls there as you try (and fail) to get in 40 winks. Sigh.
Right well I'm off to the library in the pouring rain (it sounds silly but, let's face it, it rains everyday here so now's as good a time as any!). I'll be back later to write about days 2-4.
xxx
Guess who's back...
Well technically I got back yesterday but I spent the remainder of the day sleeping and playing board games (because that's what the cool kids do). Well I shall spend today writing up about my NYC experiences and then I have to go to the library to get out some books I need to read for my AS courses next year. Fun. But first I'm going to blog.
In a nutshell, NYC is beautiful/colourful/amazing/why-don't-I-live-there.
Hmmm what else... Oh, yes, Knight and hisstupid girlfriend seem to be getting on well - it appears that they actually make each other laugh. Therefore I have concluded to just let them be and to no longer dislike them. But I still loathe him of course.
Right then I'd better get writing.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
In a nutshell, NYC is beautiful/colourful/amazing/why-don't-I-live-there.
Hmmm what else... Oh, yes, Knight and his
Right then I'd better get writing.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
Thursday 5 July 2012
Here's what's new
Why hello there, chums. I'm dreadfully sorry for not keeping you posted sooner but I, the Social Recluse - nay, hermit - have been rather busy. Gem and I went shopping in Oxford Street and then visited Camden which was the most eclectic and awesome place I've ever been to; Knight used to say that Brick Lane is nicer but Jack The Ripper used to do his thing in Brick Lane. Enough said.
Then yesterday I went to Thorpe Park with a friend of mine and that was awesome. Whilst there I realised that
1. Hot girls often go out with not-so-hot guys as shown by the number of supermodel girls in Ray Bans who were accompanied by geeky guys in desperate need of Clearasil wearing T-shirts saying things like 'Darth Vader was here'.
2. I'm not a normal teenager. Of course I've always known that I'm not "cool" exactly, but the fact that I felt intimidated by 14-year-old girls chewing gum shows my life has hit a new low.
And today I have been packing like craaaazy for New York which is where I'm going tomorrow - very excited. Too excited really. I'm practically bumbling. I love the word bumbling. I'm bumbling like a bee. Oh dear - I've actually been driven to the brink of insanity by this surplus sleep and excitement :D
I am currently torn between
A. Finding my phone (and its charger - I usually lose on or the other but today I somehow managed to lose both...)
B. Creating a playlist for the plane. Then again, what does one listen to when one is paralysed with fear about flying? I absolutely loathe flying. Especially to America. I'm shit-scared so I'm thinking a bit o' Beach Boys should calm me down a bit... :)
C. Facebook. Enough said. It's addictive as I have previously established. However I shall not give into temptation. I have a lot of urgent things to do like...
D. ... Painting my nails. It needs to be done. If you saw them in their mishapen and blandness then you'd understand.
Well since I don't have a "hip" phone which has internet I shan't be able to blog unless there's an internet cafe or something. So I have come up with a foolproof plan of keeping a diary and then I'll type it up - deal?!
Keep you posted when I get back (I'm only gone until Tuesday!),
Grammar Gal
P.S. I gave up on being a Gym Goddess (deja vu for when I gave up cheerleader training http://grammar-gal.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/cheerleading-training-day-two.html ) when I realised that my baby 2 year old cousin runs at a similar pace to me. It didn't do wonders for my self-esteem.
P.P.S. Today my sister called me 'ditzy' and, in order not to offend me, she said it wasn't that I'm intellectually below par but that I'm always "away with the fairies". So that's just fantastic...
Then yesterday I went to Thorpe Park with a friend of mine and that was awesome. Whilst there I realised that
1. Hot girls often go out with not-so-hot guys as shown by the number of supermodel girls in Ray Bans who were accompanied by geeky guys in desperate need of Clearasil wearing T-shirts saying things like 'Darth Vader was here'.
2. I'm not a normal teenager. Of course I've always known that I'm not "cool" exactly, but the fact that I felt intimidated by 14-year-old girls chewing gum shows my life has hit a new low.
And today I have been packing like craaaazy for New York which is where I'm going tomorrow - very excited. Too excited really. I'm practically bumbling. I love the word bumbling. I'm bumbling like a bee. Oh dear - I've actually been driven to the brink of insanity by this surplus sleep and excitement :D
I am currently torn between
A. Finding my phone (and its charger - I usually lose on or the other but today I somehow managed to lose both...)
B. Creating a playlist for the plane. Then again, what does one listen to when one is paralysed with fear about flying? I absolutely loathe flying. Especially to America. I'm shit-scared so I'm thinking a bit o' Beach Boys should calm me down a bit... :)
C. Facebook. Enough said. It's addictive as I have previously established. However I shall not give into temptation. I have a lot of urgent things to do like...
D. ... Painting my nails. It needs to be done. If you saw them in their mishapen and blandness then you'd understand.
Well since I don't have a "hip" phone which has internet I shan't be able to blog unless there's an internet cafe or something. So I have come up with a foolproof plan of keeping a diary and then I'll type it up - deal?!
Keep you posted when I get back (I'm only gone until Tuesday!),
Grammar Gal
P.S. I gave up on being a Gym Goddess (deja vu for when I gave up cheerleader training http://grammar-gal.blogspot.co.uk/2011/11/cheerleading-training-day-two.html ) when I realised that my baby 2 year old cousin runs at a similar pace to me. It didn't do wonders for my self-esteem.
P.P.S. Today my sister called me 'ditzy' and, in order not to offend me, she said it wasn't that I'm intellectually below par but that I'm always "away with the fairies". So that's just fantastic...
Sunday 1 July 2012
Gym Goddess training Day One
Today I faced a choice
A. Stay in bed/on the sofa/at my desk and sleep/read/stalk on Facebook
B. Get OUT
and this time I opted for option B. So with that in mind I put on my black shorts that make my legs look like tree trunks and make my stomach loathe me and I went out of my house jamming to a bit of Beach Boys of course.
I won't lie - it was a 20 minute walk and I'm sure snails were overtaking me, but fresh air does you good and it let me clear my head. It's funny how easy it is to get into Step 5 in How To MTFO but today I got there.
Unsurprisingly, when I returned home my legs hadn't remarkably grown longer or thinner but I still felt I'd achieved something - which isn't difficult when lately my only achievement has been the days I've changed out of my PJs...
Keep you posted when I'm so uber-athletic that they'll let me into the Olympics (hey it could happen..),
Grammar Gal
A. Stay in bed/on the sofa/at my desk and sleep/read/stalk on Facebook
B. Get OUT
and this time I opted for option B. So with that in mind I put on my black shorts that make my legs look like tree trunks and make my stomach loathe me and I went out of my house jamming to a bit of Beach Boys of course.
I won't lie - it was a 20 minute walk and I'm sure snails were overtaking me, but fresh air does you good and it let me clear my head. It's funny how easy it is to get into Step 5 in How To MTFO but today I got there.
Unsurprisingly, when I returned home my legs hadn't remarkably grown longer or thinner but I still felt I'd achieved something - which isn't difficult when lately my only achievement has been the days I've changed out of my PJs...
Keep you posted when I'm so uber-athletic that they'll let me into the Olympics (hey it could happen..),
Grammar Gal
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