My Sincere Apologies...

I am very aware that my blog has been sitting here unattended, gathering dust and probably weeping to its self; "She doesn't love me any more!". I am surprised my fish at the top haven't all died, or succumbed to the deep-ridden cannibalistic instincts that I'm sure all fish have.
I'm going to try and post more often, because I do enjoy it and it does act as a vent for my crazy, without which I can be found sporadically performing the robot dance for strangers, speaking animatedly to myself about the benefits of writing on a banana as opposed to paper, saying "shmanoop, shmanoop, shmanoop" as I descend the stairs (never as I ascend; that would be wrong.) and holding in depth conversations with my pet rabbit about how he "looks suave today" and how he is "big boned and not fat."

If you squint really hard, it doesn't look blurry. Jeags (black) was a supercool bun. Unfortunately he got ill, and we had  to send him to bunny heaven. He had a good life though, and was well loved. Speckles (white) is now a massive, but lovely fatty.

Anyway, the point is I'm not dead.

So, now that you know I'm alive, let me tell you about The Time I Almost Set the House Alight.

I've been on a bit of a health kick of late. This involves exercising more, avoiding easter eggs*, and cooking wholesome, healthy food. This often involves using the oven. Now, me and ovens don't really see eye to eye; ovens reach high temperatures, often have open flames or unguarded hot parts and I am spatially retarded, totally clumsy, and unfortunately not flame-proof. 

     On the first night of my health kick I decided to cook for myself. Bear in mind that we have recently moved back into Chris's (the boyfriend) mum's house and this was the first time I had used her oven. 

    "Give me a shout if you set anything on fire," said Chris, as he left me to my cooking in the kitchen. 

    "Oh that's highly unlikely. The worst thing that will happen is I'll burn the chicken, ha ha ha." Said I, switching on the overhead grill.

It was only when I saw the first drip of melted grey plastic that I realised something was amiss. 

Sure, I had noticed an ominous burning smell, but thought nothing of it, minus a brief check of the bottom of the oven to check nothing had caught. 

I quickly removed the plastic wash basket that had been left on the top of the grill. Or at least I would have moved it, if it wasn't sticking to the grill-top in gloopy grey strands. In the end I compromised by separating the liquid part of the basket, from the solid, placing the solid part on the floor, and switching off the grill in the hope that the remainder of the basket would return to its solid form, so I could remove it from where it had moulded its self from the grill. 

That was when I noticed the flames. 

     There is nothing dignified about informing your boyfriend's family that you have set their oven on fire. 

Fortunately the flames were just some left-over basket that was still burning under the grill hood and not, in fact, a full on fire, as I had lead the family to believe when I screamed up the stairs; "FIRE! I REALLY WISH I WASN'T SAYING THIS, BUT THERE'S A FIRE!!!"  The oven was fine in the end; the melted wash basket came off it and everything! And I still got to eat my meal! So technically it was a roaring success! 

     Thankfully Chris's mum is one of the most forgiving people on earth. (Although I think she wanted to kill me when she came in the kitchen 2 weeks later to find me cooking with the replacement basket still on top of  the hood of the grill. I really must remember to move it in future.) 

   In the grand scheme of things though, my 'cooking success' to 'oven fire' ratio is quite small; only around 500:2**, so technically I'm like a kitchen safety expert. 

*I'm not very good at this bit. I've already had two practise eggs. Technically one was a white chocolate cow,  and we all know that cows need eliminating anyway (in any form, even chocolate), and that if it isn't egg shaped it doesn't count as an Easter egg, and therefore contains MUCH less calories. It's practically health food,*** so yey me.

** The great burger fire of '05 takes my oven fire total up to two. 

***I'm pretty certain this is scientific fact. Also anything with fruit and nut in the ingredients is a winner, health-wise.****

****This font is really fucking tiny. It hurts my eyes. I'm sorry for writing in it. 

Pretty sure I didn't deserve that...

The other day I was walking home from uni, minding my own business, when I noticed a woman walking towards me. She was wearing those leggings that were fashionable for mums in the 80's, a faded shell-suit jacket, an off white T-shirt decorated with food stains, glasses so thick they were probably bullet proof, and an expression so blank she could have given that thick woman off the Iceland adverts a run for her money.
Anyway, as I walked past her I heard her say "Fucking hell, stupid cow."
     Errrrrm... Not sure what I did to deserve that, but it was definitely aimed at me, seeing as I was the only person on the street, and she was right next to me when she said it. I didn't say anything back, because I was too shocked at the time, (being the posh, well spoken lady that I am...) which is unfortunate as she looked like one of the only people in Hull that my pathetic little T-rex arms could have knocked out. Although it's probably a good thing I didn't try anything, as no doubt there would have been repercussions from her retarded, inbred, mutant family.
     I am literally the only person in the world who could be called "stupid" by someone who's eyes don't even point in the same direction. She probably used her freakish mutant sense of smell to work out that I am too wimpy to confront anyone, even if they totally deserve it.

Not that I'm unoriginal, but...

I'm completely, totally and unashamedly stealing the idea for this blog post from Lou, over at You'll Live to Dance Another Day. The post was about being an "accidental non conformist" by not liking things that lots of other people seem to like. If you haven't read Lou's blog before, you definately should; she always makes me laugh, she swears a lot less then me and posts a lot more then me, which can only be a good thing, so go check her out.
So, here we go. My list of Things I don't like, that most other people do: 

·        The X Factor, Strictly Come Dancing, Big Brother, I’m a Celebrity... Any other reality TV crap: Programmes like these genuinely hurt my ears, eyes and heart, and I’m pretty sure were designed purely for the purpose of brainwashing and making baby rabbits die, which is terrible really, if you think about it. I’m honestly not sure what the appeal is; If I wanted to watch a group of unfortunate people make fools of themselves/ try and get famous, I would just go in town on a Saturday night and sit in front of Vodka Rev.

·        Sweet sayings that you find on cards/coasters/mugs/facebook “like” pages. Examples off the top of my head: “If  friends were flowers, I’d pick you” “Mothers; goddesses in the eyes of a child. Children; precious gifts in the eyes of their mother” 
What was that noise? Oh, just the sound of me projectile vomming all over the place. Pass the mop.

·        Tattoos. Sorry. I know, I know; I’m not part of the cool gang. I’m not sure why I don’t like them, because I fully appreciate that some of them are works of art. And no, it’s not because I’m scared of the pain; I have piercings and I get a needle shoved in my arm monthly TO GIVE BLOOD (not anything drug related.) I guess I just think that so many people have tattoos that I’d be more individual staying ink-free. Seriously. I am one of the few people I know who doesn’t have tattoos. And plus, we all know that if I get one it will end up either spelt wrong, or I will ask for, ooooo lets say a unicorn (predictable, me?!) and it will end up looking like this:

Try explaining that to the grandchildren. D:

• Massages from a proffesional: Get your creepy freaking hands off me, pervert fingers. 
• Roast dinners: Right. It's vegetables. And meat. Let's just clarify; vegetables and meat. Just because it's tarted up with a brown lumpy sauce, does not mean it is any more funky for my taste buds. Plus I get "meat headaches" which is possibly a condition I've made up, but nevertheless; I eat too much meat, I get a headache. 
• Faux, or real fur clothing: Oh, look! You're wearing an item of clothing that makes you look like a yetti! Do you have a soul? Didn't think so. 
• Ugg Boots: The less said about these the better. 

So. That was my list. It is just my opinion, and it's not supposed to be deadly serious, so please don't un-follow me if something you like is on that list; it's only light hearted and I honestly don't have anything against the people that do like those things. If you really hate me for this then why not write a list of your own, starting with "Blogger who thinks she's funny, but really only has 24 followers, which is a bit crap tbh." I'd be cool with that. 

It's not just the people who are strange...

I live in a relatively rough area, so I do see some grim and scary sights. I don't think there's a day goes by  when I don't see someone of their norks*on drugs, yelling at their partner and trying  to start a fist fight with a post box. Generally my internal monologue goes something like this:
     "Is there anybody normal round here? He's got scarily hollow cheeks and is speaking to the wind. She's wearing her jeans tucked into her socks, a crop top which only emphasises her beer gut and an expression that suggests she wants to remove my toenails and eat them. Oh, he looks normal! No... no, wait...is that a parrot he's holding?"

I genuinely saw a guy walking down the street, having a conversation with a parrot. A real parrot. It was just perched on his arm as people walked past him without batting an eyelid. I'm not sure if the other people on the street didn't notice the parrot (likely, most of the people round here are zombies) or just weren't surprised to see this man walking along with his parrot- maybe it's a regular occurance, I don't know; all I thought was "WTF? omglolroflcopter."
     That wasn't the end of the animal oddities; earlier in the week I witnessed a jack russel with a rainbow painted on it's hind left butt area. I thought it was funny, so posted a status about it on Facebook and instanly sparked a debate on Animal rights, which slowly turned into a debate on what I think might have been Animal Gay rights and small dog syndrome, the latter of which is, frankly, hilarious and is getting added to my list of reasons not to get a chihuahua.
Painting your dog is probably hilarious, (providing you use dyes that won't harm your pooch) because you could totally paint your butch, boy dog pink and convince him  he's blue and manly and he won't ever find out because he's colour blind! Bahahahahaaaa! I might dye my rabbit pink. (He won't care because he's gay.)
     Finally I saw a horse and cart pulling out of a petrol station, which begs the question; which end did the petrol pump go in?

Nyoink.

     








* Australian slang term for boobies. Don't say you don't learn anything from reading this blog.

Did you miss me? Did you?

Here is a list of reasons why I haven't posted for a while. They may or may not be true.

• I was attacked by a feral cat. It lacerated two of my fingers, rendering me incapable of typing. 
• I went on holiday. It was HOT. I got home. I got lazy.  I didn't blog.  
• Someone dared me to eat seagull poo. They said they would give me two hundred pounds if I did it; I did it. £200 = MASSIVE SUCCESS! Vomiting for 6 whole weeks= minor inconvenience. 
• I developed a highly annoying, extroverted, "look at me!" personality. I decided to audition for the X factor and successfully made it through to boot camp, where my hideous past of gang crime was revealed and plastered all over the daily mirror. While the Mirror, the X factor and the public generally disapprove of my past, I am considered a demi-god amongst my gang peers. 
• I went on the Jeremy Kyle show. And ate Jeremy Kyle. 

Sorry this is a rubbish post; my aim was purely to certify that I am still alive. I will post something infinitely more cool soon. Well... maybe not infinitely cool; that's aiming too high. I'll settle for mildly interesting. Maybe I'll write about this:

I am NOT as cute as I look.

If you weren't already itchy...

So, here in England we're having a bit of a flying ant frenzy. The damn things are virtually everywhere; on pavements, up trees, flying through the air and invading peoples digestive and respiratory systems (I'd like to take a guess that I've swallowed at least 1% of the population of flying ants today alone.) however, we English folk have little to worry about when it comes to critters of the creepy crawly kind; some other countries have it much, much worse. In places of warmer climate the bugs that live there seem to thrive. And by thrive I mean 'grow big enough to eat you whole, cleanse the palette with leprechaun blood and then eat grandma for desert'.
      With now further ado, let me introduce my list of;
Insects which could probably take on a human in a fight and win

1. The Giant Asian Hornet. 

   Now, you may have heard of these bad boys. If you have, then you're almost definitely never going to Asia.  If you haven't heard of them, then take a look at the picture below and be prepared to cry, poo yourself, vomit, and then spend the next three days whimpering under a duvet.

"Word. Just sharpening my teeth so's I can bite your hand off."

Not only is this wasp absolutely fucking humongous,but the acid in its sting is strong enough to corrode human skin and bone. On top of that, a chemical released in it's sting attracts and other Giant Asian Hornets in the area. So basically, you're screwed if one decides to sting you, as while you are tending to your flesh and bone eating wound, your attackers hornet pals will be donning matching leather jackets, and setting on their way to come and do you in. 

Have fun with that, wontcha? 

     2. The Brazilian Wandering Spider

At five inches across, the Brazilian Wandering Spider isn't something you'd want to find lurking in your shoe. Actually, it isn't something you'd want to find anywhere within a 500 mile radius, whilst wearing and insecticidal suit and residing in a 3 inch thick glass bubble. The spider has the most toxic sting of all spiders and kills the most humans than any other spider per annum. Add to this the fact that the BWS gives male human victims a painful, and extremely long lasting erection which can lead to impotence and you have yourself the spider of your nightmares. 

"You talkin' to me?!"

You are probably just imagining something crawling up your arm right now, so, you know, don't worry. 

     3. The Bullet Ant

If you happen to be wandering in the rainforest in, ohhh, lets say Paraguay, and you notice you have a large ant crawling up your arm, my advice would be to flick it off; GET IT THE HELL OFF YOU NOW! (or, flick it at someone you don't like, if watching somebody writhing around in agony is kind of your thing.) It is likely that the ant crawling up your arm is a Bullet ant. The clue is in the name, so it may come as no surprise to find that being stung by a bullet ant feels akin to being shot. It is said to be one of the most painful stings a human can endure, so suck on that, Giant Asian Hornets! 

Stick em up!

Justin Beiber is clearly a genious... geneis...jeni...gen... Nevermind. Just watch this.

After watching the above clip, I established two things

 1) Justin Beiber still hasn't hit puberty. 

2) Justin Beiber is truly, immensely, unquestionably retarded. 

Now, this got me thinking; if justin Beiber doesn't know what "german" is, then there's probably a whole host of other things which he doesn't know about. I'm pretty sure that whoever is responsible for his safety and well-being while he is on tour has had to have a lot of explanatory conversations with him (possibly involving picture cards and hand puppets). I therefore compiled a list of;

Explanatory conversations that people have probably had with Justin Beiber

• Justin... sweetie... No, I don't think your songs ever will bring world peace. In fact, they might do the opposite.
• There's this thing called "puberty" and one day you're going to hit it.... No.. Not actually "hit it" as in physically hit something... I assure you, your face will be fine, it's a figure of speech..... Whats a figure of speech, you say? Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything, puberty probably won't hit you anyway. 
• No Justin, that toy says ages 3 to 5 on the box, you're too old for it.... The picture on the box scares you?... So you're not getting it then?... Probably for the best.
• No, that man shouldn't have touched you there. And it wasn't a "special hug"
• Honest to god, he wasn't lying to you, "German" is a real word.... I promise... Cross my heart and hope to die.... No, I don't really hope to die, it's a figure of...never mind. 
• Oh... ummm... you're supposed to have two of those. 

let me know if you have any more suggestions to add to the list, if it's funny, I'll add it on and put your blog link on the post.