Saturday, 19 April 2014


What up chicas.

The holibobs are nearly over and I am back at halls. My gorgeous friend and I went to Edinburgh for a couple of days which was rather fantastic but now I'm back and faced with piles and piles of work. Which I am avoiding. I'll go to the library at some point...

I was messaging TGI last night on Facebook for about 4 hours. Just thought I'd throw that out there, clear and simple.

Ours has become a very odd sort of 'relationship'. I think we are sort of exclusively sleeping with each other. Seeing as I got a text from him the other week saying how he had 'turned down birds for you'. Such a gentleman.

But that shit's boring. The most amazing thing about the conversation was that I managed to get him to watch a 5 minute clip from High School Musical 3.

Yep. The dancing on the rooftop in the rain clip.

Oh man. He is so my bitch.


Monday, 14 April 2014

Aaaaand We're Back To Normal

Panic over because, after that last post (which, in my defence, was written at about 3am), Mama's back.

I am Mama. I don't know why that's not become a thing yet. It should be a thing. But no one seems to go for it.

God, holidays are so boring.

The fact that TGI is in Edinburgh all holibobs is made even more annoying by the fact that I have to read Lady Chatterley's Lover for English - which is quite amusing as I get scandalised looks from the elderly when I whip it out in a cafe.

And also the fact that the Chinese lesbians upstairs are honestly having sex about 8 times a day. Not even kidding.

I actually drunk called TGI the other day. My gorgeous German friend and I were having a Skype drinking session and I finished the tequila and the champagne and was moving onto taking shots of some chocolatey business when Skype died. So of course I had to do something else with my drunkenness.

TGI was actually walking back from the pub when I called him. I don't think he was too impressed. Mainly because I was ragepants at him for breaking one of my glasses when he was here last. And I was reminding him he had to buy me a new one. Scintillating stuff, I know.

I really wish I had some cool stories from when I'm drunk. I mean, some aren't too bad like when I walked to the beach in my pyjamas at 6am or when I gave a homeless man all my change and made him pinky promise me that he wouldn't spend it on drugs. It was about £3. But I don't know, maybe you can get drugs for under a fiver these days? If he did, I'll be rage at him. You don't break pinky promises.

Nah I want to do something awesome so people will be like: 'Oh yeah, Nancy? The girl that [insert something badass in here]. She's so fucking cool.'

Instead, one of the guys I met during Fresher's knows me as The Girl Who Forgets.

I guess that's something.

Friday, 11 April 2014

A Little Bit Different

You know what I want? I want to be that free spirited girl that is the complete opposite to her private school guy. Not in a hippy dippy way - ask my gorgeous boho friend and she'll tell you that describing me as 'hippy' is as far away from the truth as it is possible to get.

No, by free spirited I mean the type of girl that embraces life to the fullest. Who loves the small things - the scent of fresh air that comes through a window when you open it for the first time in the morning, the elderly man who sits on a bench in the park she walks through every day and whistles along to the music he listens to on his iPod, the huge sky that spreads over the horizon when she goes to the beach to stare out at the sea and the feeling that she is literally on the edge of the country and that life is stretching out before her.

I know right. A bit of a shift from previous posts.

But I've just got this picture in my head. I'm with TGI and I'm dragging him out to the sand on the beach and running away from the waves. And although he's reluctant, he sees just how happy I am and that makes him happy.

And yes, I'm talking about the complete arsehole that I'm currently sleeping with. You can tell I was an only child with a vivid imagination, can't you? I was re-reading a Facebook conversation with someone I used to be friends with and he said that you couldn't be a romantic if 'you just hook up with people'. I beg to differ with that.

AAAARGGGGHHH! This is all too much to deal with! Quick! Look at possibly my favourite picture ever:

Image c/o this fabulous Buzzfeed post.

Aaaaand we're back. Only for a short bit - I promise.

See, I believe in love. I believe in romance. And I believe in everything that happens in a Hugh Grant film. I have constructed intricate scenarios in my mind in which I meet my perfect man and everything is just wonderful. And - because I am ridiculously dramatic - I have awful scenarios where something terrible happens to this imaginary man and I almost bring myself to tears in real life.

But I could never be in a relationship right now. It's this idea of commitment that I am terrified of. But I've also imagined being married - even with kids. And I say 'even' because I can't deal with children at all. Unfortunately they tend to love me. But they're just way too much responsibility and tears. And they're just so bloody small.

You can see the way my mind works, can't you? Tangents going off all over the place.

But this idea of being free and being the girl that smiles at the littlest things is just so appealing. But is it something that is just too hard to achieve?

I'm going to try and prove that wrong.

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

One Day, There Might Even Be Photos

So yes, we are all aware that this is a very new blog. And yes, we are all aware that there is no 'we' involved here. It really is just me trying to spare my beloved friends the pains of having to listen to every self-centred sentence I will undoubtedly come up with on any given day.

So yes, the blog does suck on the appearance aspect (not on the written content aspect, obvs) but that is because TECHNOLOGY IS FUCKING DIFFICULT.

I braved a look at the html section on Blogger, then swiftly turned away to look at prettier things that didn't make my eyeballs want to fall out and my brain to fry.

And I will at some point whack in some photos in these posts. Maybe. But really, looking back over these previous posts - the fuck kinda photos would I put in?? Maybe I'll just shove in a few photos of cats every now and again. I'm sure that'll do.

You've realised now that this is a major filler post because I am super busy doing absolutely fucking nothing. I promise there will be a proper post coming up soon. But then again, no one's reading this so I can do whatever the fuck I want.

That's as rebellious as I'm ever going to get.

Sunday, 6 April 2014

Cocked That One Up

So, here we are again. Posting about cocks at nine o'clock in the morning. I just hope you all had the tequila shots from yesterday's post and are now, like me, way too hungover to even care if we're talking about dicks or chickens.

To clarify: it's dicks. Sorry.

Now if I was really clever and interweb savvy, I'd whack a picture of a chicken in here. But I'm afraid I'm not and you'll just have to wait for future posts to introduce the magical technology that is images. Does that count as foreshadowing? I think that's just me being overly hopeful. Anyway, I thought I was being highly amusing with the title of this post so you can all just shut the fuck up and leave me alone. Tequila hangovers are the worst.

Yeah, you all thought I was kidding about the tequila yesterday. Spoiler alert! I wasn't. Ugh.

So. Cocks.

As I was saying before, this is all I will miss if it turns out I have been unceremoniously dumped from a fuck buddy relationship. God, I can't even deal with that at 9am. I'll have to think of another name for 'fuck buddy'. Suggestions?

I mean, it's all fair and square (I will be delicate here) being without a man as you can quite easily sort yourself out. See. Delicate.


Yes I mean a vibrator. Damn, I need to change the times that I post these.

But it's just not the same. My vibrator does not have a 6'4 rugby player attached to it. Although I must admit, it's infinitely more stylish. And this is the thing. It is not 'un-feminist' to want to be with a man. Just as it is not 'un-feminist' to be with another girl. Or both a man and a woman. Or a table. Whatever your preference, wanting to bang that table (there's a wood pun in there somewhere) is not 'un-feminist'.

This post took an unexpected turn. But let's just roll with it. Because that's what we do.

So is my dilemma really a dilemma? Will I be in a bit of a pickle if I have been ditched for a 5'2 blonde cheerleader? Of course not. Because I can either: sit in my room with a book and a cup of tea, wearing my glasses and giving zero fucks (literally). Or I can whack on a dress and go out with my girlfriends, wear my contacts and possibly give more than zero fucks. Depending on my mood.

No, I don't know where this post went. We can deal with it though. I'm hungover.

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Holiday Issues

I have just realised that I may have a slight problem. A problem of a slight size. The size of this problem is what I call, slight. (We all call it slight.)

Bare faced(arsed) fact: I have a regular fuck buddy.

I'm sorry, I had to put it out there in plain view of the world. I apologise if many delicate eyes have been offended.

He is a giant idiot. I would go so far as to say he is THE Giant Idiot. Sort of like The Abominable Snowman. So I have devised a cunning name for him on this here blog, ladies and gentlemen. Dare I say it, even MORE cunning than the oh so cleverly named Steven in my previous post.

He shall be called:

The Giant Idiot.

Or TGI for short. Because that's like T.G.I Friday's and that links to food and really anything that links to food is a good link.

Now, my dilemma is thus: we have another two and a half weeks of holidays before returning to university. I will not see him for another two and a half weeks. He is a giant slut. I therefore fear I may have lost him to another girl with loose morals (but less fabulous hair).

This would be really rather inconvenient to me as it's coming up to the exams and stress relief is very important.

That's not true at all. I don't give a flying pig's arse about the exams or stress. If he did find another chick, I'd mostly be disappointed because he is the only man I've met who can carry me. And I'm six foot tall. That's actually another thing. But that can wait for a further post, I shall hold my tongue on this for the time being.

And yes, maybe I am not being very feminist by lamenting the possible loss of a man in my life. But really, all I am lamenting is the loss of his cock. To put it delicately.*

*Fun fact: I'm not very good at putting things delicately.

I fear that this will have to be a TBC post to prevent you from dying of boredom. Or at least to go get a biscuit or something. Yes, let's put cock loss on hold and go get a cup of tea. Or a tequila shot. Depending on the time of day. Or the type of person.

Yes. I am that type of person.

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Just Call Me Doctor

So now that's out the way, can we please talk about what is even going on right now.

I just told a guy I couldn't see him again because I was: "currently working on the cure for cancer and therefore there may not be a next time due to my commitment in medical breakthroughs."

Just let that sink in a little.

Now that's not normal. That's not a grown up thing to do.

I've known the guy - let's call him Steven - about 3 weeks. Now Steven and I had talked on the Facebook and via the text messaging and had met up a few times. Then he asked me out on a date.


I am not a chick that goes for the whole dating thing. That scares the pants right off me. And not in a 'oh look, my pants have just been scared off, maybe we should bang' kind of way.

This is where the cancer curing comes in.

I like to think that whenever I have to tell TINY little white lies to get out of a situation, I only increase my prowess as a fabulous storyteller. AND I AM A STORYTELLER, DAMMIT.

Steven has not replied to this. Which is a shame as he was really very nice. But if you ask me out on an actual date, you tend to turn into a three-headed lake monster in my eyes. And no one wants that in their lives.*

*Unless you do. I don't judge.**

**That's a lie. I am awfully judgey. Aren't we all?***

***Probably not. Probably just me, sitting alone on the judgey throne of judging. And honey, you should see me in a crown.

Awkward First Post

............. Um.