Tuesday, 26 May 2015

Waking up with more than a hangover

Yesterday was such a hoot and a half! I went shopping with a new friend in the morning, and then in the afternoon a big group of us "watched the cricket" aka got realllllllly drunk and sunabathed.
There was just one tiny problem...I got absolutely off my face. I'm talking 'Drunk Skunk' x100000!

And whilst everyone does love a drunk friend, it turns out that not everybody loves a drunk girlfriend. I went and cocked things up with my big ol' drunken mouth. Now Mr Melon and I are having some 'space' because he needs to revise and I'm a demanding girlfriend, who is appaz v selfish and clingy.

So not only have I woken up with bags under my eyes the size of the Grand Canyon, and nausea that could easily be mistaken for morning sickness, but I also have a very angry but gorgeous boyfriend, who seems to think that I'm an infuriating hippo (and not the cute hippos either - the ones that go around eating people and are really scary and need to be tamed!)

Maybe I should just respect his need for space. I mean, it must be hard to revise when you have a girlfriend who wants to talk to you and gets miffed when you don't reply. He's even turned off his "Last Seen" thingy on Whatsapp!!!

But it's going to be OK... As I (repetitively) told him last night, if two people love each other then they can work things out.

OH MY SWEET JESUS. I just remembered leaving him a voicemail and then he texted me saying it was too unbearable to listen to!!! I am past the Land of Embarrassed and heading towards the Cliff of Mortified!!!

Ok, let's just stay calm. The plan is to hide in my duvet and make myself a little fort. Who said you can't hide from your problems?

Sunday, 24 May 2015

Men are Elastic Bands... No, wait, they're just bellends

Ok, I'm not saying that all guys are bellends. But according to Mr Gray (author of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus) guys feel the need to "get away" from their fantabulous girlfriends because they freeak out about commitment and need some alone 'man' time to 'go into their cave' and think about life. What a load of bollocks!

Mr Gray also says that women should just wait around for them to spring back, and that they shouldn't be mad if the guy ignores them, but should instead go shopping. Is anyone else seeing that Mr Gray is single-handedly excusing guys being bellends for no reason??

OK, let's say a girl needs a wee bit of space. Know  what she'd do? Take the day to herself and then text her boy in the evening, making up some valid excuse as to why she'd been away so that she wouldn't hurt his feelings.

Know what boys do? They don't reply to your messages, and then they don't even bother coming up with a valid reason. Or if they do, then the reason has so many holes in it that it's practically a 3-year-old lace thong (we all have one that is way past its wearable date). He may say "Oh, yeah, I was so busy working today" but then casually slips into conversation that he managed to watch an entire season of Friends in that day...

And, as girls, we are meant to respect their space and respect their need to stretch away and go into their caves. Because if we don't then
A. We are apparently Taylor-Swift-at-the-end-of-Blank-Space psycho girlfriends
B. We are prohibiting boys from 'exploring themselves' and letting them become independent creatures away from us - this is according to Mr Bullshit Gray.

But where is the girl's opportunity to find herself? Where's our cave at?? Men are from Mars claims that women are like waves and when they're at the top of the wave they feel fabulous, but when at the bottom they get clingy because they feel shit.

Either way, a girl is clearly dependent on a boy. We aren't allowed this space - instead of being elastic bands, we are velcro.

And so I'd just like to call Bullshit on all of this. If a guy is being unsupportive  then don't send him cutesy smiley emojis and be like "No worries baby boo" (although, if you're calling him baby boo then I may understand why he needs this space). It's time to force them out of their caves, to pull up a chair and tell them to talk.

I'm not saying that you should be like 'TALK' every time he replies to your message a few minutes/hours late, but when things are getting a wee bit ridiculous and you've spent more time with his voicemail message than the hunk that is your boyfriend, then you know something is up!

So, yeah. Stay sassy and stay confident.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal

Monday, 11 May 2015

An Unwanted Visitor

I was watching Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2 for the first time tonight. It was a monumental occasion. I have been waiting to watch this film for at least 5 years and here it was.
Tissues? Ready. Tears? Brimming.

And then it arrived. A wasp - not just any wasp, though. I kid you not when I tell you that this wasp was a Demon Wasp. Not only because of it's very existence (WHY WAS THERE A WASP IN MY ROOM WHEN IT'S 11PM?? WHY WAS THIS WASP NOT IN BED?? Tempted to call it's parents...), but it just wouldn't die.

My friend and I tried everything: from throwing things at it from afar (whilst we cowered behind the door, of course) to spraying it with hairspray (tip: don't do this. An angry wasp is not ideal).

But, alas, the wasp has won the battle. I am in my friend's bed for the night and the wasp has won this turf war, sigh.

No, I'm not a drama queen!

An Angry Complaint to Mother Nature

Why hello there, Mother Nature. It's time we had a talk.

Do you remember the time that I was on holiday in Mexico and I wanted to go on a jet ski? Yes. I remember that time well, too. It was an exhileratingly awesome experience, but oh-so painful. Why, you ask? Well, when you're going 60mph over the water and your bum is hitting the seat, it makes your tampon reallllllly hurt your lady parts. It felt like someone was wacking Little Grammar Gal with a Barbie doll. It wasn't fun.

Ooooo or do you remember that party where I wanted to wear my new white lace dress? I was going to look 10/10 would bang and marry and make a boy I liked feel jealous. Know what happened there? You and your bloody (literally) gift. I had to wear all black and therefore looked like an emo and, surprise surprise, he didn't look over at me. Sigh. 

So you can imagine my surprise when, after finally having sex - with Mr Melon  (and thus needing regular periods to be safe in the knowledge that I am not with child) - I am yet to have a period. WHERE IS MY BLOODY GIFT??? You owe me so big. Literally - you owe me £10 for the two pregnancy tests I've bought!!

No, I am not with child. But I may as well be!!! Why won't you just give me my period? I've had enough of this cramps and hormones crap... Grrrrrr you really are a little twazzock.

Think this concludes my rant.
Please please please hurry up.
Your biggest fan (well, I will be if I get my period in the next week)
Grammar Gal xxx

Thursday, 7 May 2015

Legs Bum Tum...Torture

Yesterday I made the catastrophic mistake of going to an exercise class. I was in a wee bit of a shmood so I decided to do some exercise and get those endorphins going. If any of you are ever in the same situation then I urge you to go on a jog or do a Pilates video on youtube. DO. NOT. GO. TO. A. CLASS.

It was one of the most embarrassing things I've ever done (even worse that that time my Classics teacher exposed me to the class for doing extra work...I know I'm a loser!). I basically paid to be bullied. The class started with this thing called "Circuits", where we had to run around the room in a circle for what felt like a gazillion years. After two laps I was exhausted and ignored the leader who was yelling at us to "RUN GIRLS RUN" and decided instead to go into a brisk walk. I actually held up the people behind people and there was a mahoosive gap between me and the girls in front...

Then we had to get some chairs and mats out and I thought 'Oh yay, this will be the bit where we have a 20 minute break and chat about Britain's Got Talent, preferably whilst eating some Digestives'. But alas, no. We had to do push ups on the chairs and these things called planks...
It got so bad that I laid down on my mat and stayed still like a star fish. Oh God but the worst moment was when I was in my Dead Starfish position and then turned to the girl net to me, who was all red and puffy so I thought she was a fellow Exercise Victim, and I said "Oh my God, this is so hard! I can't go on!" and she smiled and said "Oh, no this one is actually really easy - just lift your hips like this". It wasn't easy. That position was as hard as licking your toenails (don't try that at home though, kids).

So I left this LBT class amidst loads of girls saying "Oh my God, that was great. I really felt that burn" whilst inwardly screaming "I BURN ALL OVER. IT WASN'T A GOOD THING".

The only good thing to come out of it was that I think I actually glowed afterwards. OK, but that was definitely sweat-induced...

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

The Boyfriend Came For Dinner

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if your parents don't like your boyfriend, then your relationship is doomed. Sure, there are the exceptions (as any Nicholas Sparks novel will testify) but, generally speaking, if Mamma says No then that boy's gotta go!

So you can understand why I was bloody terrified about my boyfriend meeting my parents.
Firstly, because my parents are nutters. My mum asks a gazillion questions to any male guest that we have round for dinner, so by the end of the meal we know all about his dreams for the future, his childhood vacations and his favourite type of sandwich. My dad is a hilarious funny bunny and, being in a house of girls, doesn't often get to assert his masculinity. So when a man enters the house Dad's voice drops three octaves, the football is turned up and beer cans are opened. Plus, of course, there is the mandatory "Man-Shake" ('man hand-shake').

I didn't want to bring my boyf into that!! Nonetheless, I wanted them to meet him and see how he is the definition of an awesome possum. So I got myself ready (which included making the fatal mistake of shaving and then putting deodorant on...pain doesn't begin to describe it...) and we sat down for a meal.

To my great surprise, it was a wee bit perfect. My guy (he needs a nickname, I can't keep calling him "boyfriend", "boyf" and "guy"...Let's call him Mr. Melon) shook hands with my Dad and wasn't phased by the extra low tone of his voice. He answered my mum's questions so well that it was like watching my Ed on Russell Brand's Trews (yes, I am on first name terms with Ed Miliband). 

There was a slight dilemma when, after eating all of his hadddock up, Mr Melon told me in private that he hates fish. A minor dilemma!!

And then we went to our pub's quiz night and, not going to lie, I think I am a Quiz Genius (just the other day, I got 4 questions right in the University Challenge Final - just call me Alan Davies!!) but this quiz was bloody hard. So, naturally, I turned to alcohol and was a bit of a tipsy gypsy for the rest of the evening.

But all in all, it was just so fantabulous and cwoot. Hurrah for Mr Melon getting on with my parents - if only they had been so lucky in The Notebook. (Oh I do love that film... *drops everything to watch it*)

Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal 

Spring Cleaning My Attitude

I have decided to start doing things that make me happy. I'm aware that this sounds like one of those goofy Instagram 'inspo' quotes that we all favourite because we secretly think they are cute. But I'm serious; henceforth, gone shall be the days of obsessing over whether my boyfriend is ignoring me (because the Blue Ticks of Whatsapp don't lie!) and I'm bidding adieu to feeling like a Primark pump in a wardrobe full of Jimmy Choos.

When you're a single pringle. you are totally self reliant. The only person that you're dependent on is Alex Vause from Orange is the New Black. True, most girls are totally self-reliant whilst in a relationship too...

And then there's me. To say I'm a sillymilly would be a ridiculous understatement. You see, the thing is, I've always denounced boys as Manwhores and Knobheads on this blog but I think that I was just  trying to keep the baes at bay! Falling in love is scary shit - it's like being given a winning lotttery ticket and being sent out into a rain-storm to claim your prize: you're so happy you've found it but you're scared shitless that you're going to lose it!

And now I have The Perfect Guy but I keep wondering why he puts up with me when I have the mood swings of a pregnant lady in an elevator...

But you just can't keep worrying about what other people think!! I've decided to Spring Clean my life - starting today! All of us are fantabulous creatures whom any guy/girl would be lucky to be with. And it doesn't matter if, when you get excited about something, your voice goes so shrill that it feels like Janice from Friends is in the room. When you find The Right Guy he'll just think you're a hoot and a half!

So with this positive new attitude towards both myself and Boykind (after 3 years of calling them all Twazzocks I've decided to give them a break!) I've decided to restart my blog - for real, this time. I know I sound like that ex boyfriend who texts you saying "babe, I've missed you. I'll change xoxo", but I'm serious! I love writing this blog and I'm not going anywhere.

Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal