It's 2.20am on New Years' Eve and I have never been more awake. This is absolutely unprecedented, since I am usually passed out by 10pm (that's not even an exaggeration - last year I was vomming by 9.15!) But this year, I was put on antibiotics 2 days before New Years, meaning I absolutely could not drink (NB: these were "really strong" antibiotics, so I was told that I couldn't even have a cheeky glass of champers, or there would be some sort of weird chemical reaction...after images of me frothing at the mouth, I decided to pass on this)
Yet even though I am a Sober Cobra, I've actually had an amazing night hosting a party for my friends. So I thought I would share some tips on how to enjoy your New Years without getting White Girl Wasted:
1. Take a LOT of Caffeine. One or two Diet Cokes will not be enough. I'd already had 5 mini cans of Diet Coke before my friends had even arrived. And then I played a little drinking game called "Drink a Mini Diet Coke Every Time My Friends Top Up Their Drink". Needless to say, I've had over 10 of the cans. I also had a caffeine tablet when I started my Caffeine Crash at about 11.
2. Find Sober Allies. These are the people you will be popping to caffeine tablets with and trying not to judge your drunk skunk friends with.
3. Don't judge your drunk friends. Nobody likes the sober judgy friend who raises their eyebrows and asks "are you sure that Tequila shot is a good idea?" Like, hell yeah it's a great idea! So what if they vom? Let them have their fun, you have no right to judge!
4. Let go. Sober dancing is my least favourite thing in the whole world. Dancing requires coordination and rhythm, neither of which I have mastered. So the only time I like to slut drop and generally move in time to music is when I am absolutely smashed. But, alas, that was not possible tonight! So I was awkwardly trying to get my hips to move and not look like a puppet doll as I danced to Single Ladies, which was of course impossible. But then I looked around and realised that most of my mates were totally smashed. So I just thought I'd follow the YOLO brick road, and I was jumping around and using walnuts as maracas.
5. Embrace the DMCs. Throughout the night you will be hugged very tightly - kisses may even be involved. And then your friend will want to open up about the value of your friendship, or some deep secret they've been keeping on their chest for 5 months. And don't just shrug it off and be like "Oh, she's only saying we're besties because she's on her 8th Sambuca shot". Like, no. Drunk words are sober thoughts, so take the DMC love!
6. Don't tidy. When you're drunk you are usually oblivious to the mess around you, but when you are sober it is disturbingly apparent. My carpet is currently 50 shades of ruined. So many different drinks have been spilled down it, and there are also blobs of vaseline, and cracked walnuts scattered everywhere. But resist the temptation to get out the Cif and do a bit of scrubbing - you will literally spend all night on the floor, and you aren't Cinderella now that you're at the ball!
7. Invest in ear plugs. My friends have now gone home, but my sisters' friends (who were even more smashed than mine - who knew that was possible?!) are still here. And I can hear them alternating in vomming from my room.
So they are the top tips for staying sober but having a fantabulous time.
Happy new year!
xxxx
Thursday, 31 December 2015
Monday, 28 December 2015
Operation: Get a Tinder Date
So I met up with my ex, Mr Melon, on the week before Christmas. It was a rather dramatic meet-up and my emotions were on a Thorpe Park-esque rollercoaster the whole time.
Lots happened, but the thing I want to focus on is when he casually dropped into conversation that he was seeing someone. And that's totally fine.
I mean, we broke up 4 months ago - how could I expect that he'd be Notebook-style pining over me? In 4 months I could have gotten pregnant, or written a novel, or made a viral Youtube video that made me Rebecca Black-style famous. A lot can happen in 4 months. So it's only natural that he has moved on, or is at least trying to.
And now I've decided that I want to move on, too. I don't want to go all gooey-eyed over someone, but I would like to go out on a date with a nice guy who laughs at my jokes and thinks I'm adorkable (is that too much to ask?!)
So I've decided to turn to Tinder, and get me a Tinder date.
Now, I've been on Tinder for a while now, but I've never met up with any of the guys here because
A. I have too much fun being sassy with them. One guy started a conversation with "I'd like to nail you to the wall because you're a masterpiece". I replied telling him that that felt very cruxifixion-y and that I wasn't Jesus. We talked for a bit but I could tell I had insulted his masculinity, because he lost interest when I didn't fawn all over his cheesy line. And that happened a few times... Note to self: if I want to find a date, I must flatter the guy's ego (but what fun is that? Sigh)
B. I always swipe 'yes' for guys that I would never actually go for. Tim, 23, from Exeter is not the prettiest diamond on the chandelier, but he clearly put so much effort into his profile (and he 'super liked' me!) so I swiped 'yes'. But as soon as he started talking to me, I wasn't interested! Besides, he can't tell the difference between 'your' and 'you're' and, for me, that's a deal breaker.
C. Lack of common interests. So I found a guy who was so hilarious in his description of himself, and he was attractive (bonus!) So we got to talking and we realised that we both love food (yes, it's a bit of a fake common interest because we all love food - we need it to survive!) and then he went on about how much he loves lasagne, and I cocked up by telling the truth: I've never tasted lasagne. Clearly, for him, that was a big deal-breaker, since we stopped talking after that.
D. Three-letter names. I have a theory that all guys with three-letter names have been sent by Mother Nature to bitchslap my heart. Seriously: All guys that I've known who have been fuckboys have had three-letter names. Coincidence? I think not. So this guy, Cai, actually asked me on a date but he hada three-letter name!!!! I did say yes, but then I stopped replying to him because on my birthday he didn't say 'Happy Birthday' and instead said "I love me a birthday girl ;)" which I thought was gross, and I'm not looking for a horny gross boy, I'm looking for a nice guy.
But then I found a really nice guy, Tinder Tom. True, he has three letters in his name - but, hey, nobody is perfect! He's really cute and he likes fishing and he seems to find me real funny! Plus, he texted me "Merry Chrsitmas" (yes, we are on texting terms! Or, at least, we were until conversation dwindled...)
Well I've decided that I would like to go on a date with TT. But when, where and how?
I'm going to have a think, and get back to you on that one! Maybe I will text him on New Years when I'm a drunk skunk. Something cool and nonchalant like "Happy new year, you! Long time no speak, how you been?"
OK, that needs a lot of work.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Lots happened, but the thing I want to focus on is when he casually dropped into conversation that he was seeing someone. And that's totally fine.
I mean, we broke up 4 months ago - how could I expect that he'd be Notebook-style pining over me? In 4 months I could have gotten pregnant, or written a novel, or made a viral Youtube video that made me Rebecca Black-style famous. A lot can happen in 4 months. So it's only natural that he has moved on, or is at least trying to.
And now I've decided that I want to move on, too. I don't want to go all gooey-eyed over someone, but I would like to go out on a date with a nice guy who laughs at my jokes and thinks I'm adorkable (is that too much to ask?!)
So I've decided to turn to Tinder, and get me a Tinder date.
Now, I've been on Tinder for a while now, but I've never met up with any of the guys here because
A. I have too much fun being sassy with them. One guy started a conversation with "I'd like to nail you to the wall because you're a masterpiece". I replied telling him that that felt very cruxifixion-y and that I wasn't Jesus. We talked for a bit but I could tell I had insulted his masculinity, because he lost interest when I didn't fawn all over his cheesy line. And that happened a few times... Note to self: if I want to find a date, I must flatter the guy's ego (but what fun is that? Sigh)
B. I always swipe 'yes' for guys that I would never actually go for. Tim, 23, from Exeter is not the prettiest diamond on the chandelier, but he clearly put so much effort into his profile (and he 'super liked' me!) so I swiped 'yes'. But as soon as he started talking to me, I wasn't interested! Besides, he can't tell the difference between 'your' and 'you're' and, for me, that's a deal breaker.
C. Lack of common interests. So I found a guy who was so hilarious in his description of himself, and he was attractive (bonus!) So we got to talking and we realised that we both love food (yes, it's a bit of a fake common interest because we all love food - we need it to survive!) and then he went on about how much he loves lasagne, and I cocked up by telling the truth: I've never tasted lasagne. Clearly, for him, that was a big deal-breaker, since we stopped talking after that.
D. Three-letter names. I have a theory that all guys with three-letter names have been sent by Mother Nature to bitchslap my heart. Seriously: All guys that I've known who have been fuckboys have had three-letter names. Coincidence? I think not. So this guy, Cai, actually asked me on a date but he hada three-letter name!!!! I did say yes, but then I stopped replying to him because on my birthday he didn't say 'Happy Birthday' and instead said "I love me a birthday girl ;)" which I thought was gross, and I'm not looking for a horny gross boy, I'm looking for a nice guy.
But then I found a really nice guy, Tinder Tom. True, he has three letters in his name - but, hey, nobody is perfect! He's really cute and he likes fishing and he seems to find me real funny! Plus, he texted me "Merry Chrsitmas" (yes, we are on texting terms! Or, at least, we were until conversation dwindled...)
Well I've decided that I would like to go on a date with TT. But when, where and how?
I'm going to have a think, and get back to you on that one! Maybe I will text him on New Years when I'm a drunk skunk. Something cool and nonchalant like "Happy new year, you! Long time no speak, how you been?"
OK, that needs a lot of work.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
It's the Most Wine Flu-y Time of the Year
Across the country, millions of Brits have caught something that closely resembles what uni students call Freshers' Flu. Body parts are aching, we are too tired to get up in the morning, and our throats feel as dry as Frankie Boyle's sense of humour. In times like these, we can hardly muster the enthusiasm for the future drunken escapades of the New Year, and just the sight of red wine is enough to make us gag.
But darker times lie ahead - we all know that January Blues are a real thing. There's nothing to really look forward to in January - unless you're a disturbing couple and have already picked out your 'His & Hers' matching onesies for Valentine's Day gifts. January is also a bugger of a month because it is absolutely freezing - yet, unlike December, it doesn't feel magical because it's not Christmas. In effect, January sucks balls.
So with this in mind, I suggest that we all get out of bed, jump into the magical and warm embrace of something called a shower, and carpe that diem! We only have a week and a bit before the Most Terrible Month of the Year, so let's swear off alcohol until New Year's Eve, eat some gross healthy green stuff and get our lives together (or at least give the impression that we do!)
Pep talk over.
But darker times lie ahead - we all know that January Blues are a real thing. There's nothing to really look forward to in January - unless you're a disturbing couple and have already picked out your 'His & Hers' matching onesies for Valentine's Day gifts. January is also a bugger of a month because it is absolutely freezing - yet, unlike December, it doesn't feel magical because it's not Christmas. In effect, January sucks balls.
So with this in mind, I suggest that we all get out of bed, jump into the magical and warm embrace of something called a shower, and carpe that diem! We only have a week and a bit before the Most Terrible Month of the Year, so let's swear off alcohol until New Year's Eve, eat some gross healthy green stuff and get our lives together (or at least give the impression that we do!)
Pep talk over.
Sunday, 20 December 2015
How I Went from Girlfriend Goddess to Mayoress of Singleton
I am aware that I haven't written in a long time, but my (rather rubbish) excuses are three-fold:
A. I've been at uni. Now, I know that sounds like a generic "oooo I was busy" reason, but trust me: I spend my days either trying to be Hermione and living in the library, or sticking my head down the toilet and trying to Tactical Chunder to get rid of my hangover so I can carpe that diem .
B. Mr Melon and I broke up shortly after I wrote the last post. Now, don't be deceived: I haven't been Bridget Jones-ing (yes, it's a verb) and wrapped up in my duvet for the last 3 months. Instead, I've been trying (unsuccessfully) to not think about it... so I thought that writing a blog post about it would be redundant - but, heyho, here we are!!!
C. My love life has been non-existent. I'm not even sure if I'm renouncing all boys...! I'm not sure what's happening, to be honest. The most I've fancied anyone this term was this random guy who was nice to me, but after we kissed he stopped talking to me. Now, I may not be the smartest cookie in the cookie jar, but I know that if a guy isn't making an effort with you then he's just not that into you. I know this from reading the Girl Bible (if you haven't read it, then do it!), so I am now sassy when it comes to interactions with the opposite sex.
So, due to my not wanting to think about Mr Melon as well as my lack of a love life, I haven't written in a long time. Hey, I think that these are pretty valid reasons, now that I think about it. I didn't go with the typical "I was busy" excuse (which is a sh-excuse, because if Noah can write to Ally every day for 365 days then nobody can ever be too busy to do something that's important!)
But now I'm going to briefly sum up how I cocked things up with Mr Melon.
So, we had a very intense relationship - it was very The Notebook meets The Fault in Our Stars. Only, it slowly became pretty one-sided on the intense front. He matured a lot at uni (and actually became a #LadLadLad) whereas I was still acting like Taylor Swift at the end of Blank Space when I hadn't heard from him in a while.
And most people could tell you that I'm an overthinker. Now, normally that's a good thing - I have carefully thought through what Beatles songs I want to sing at my wedding, what I would do if I won the lottery, and whether it would be quirky or cruel to give my kids really hipster names (I've decided to go for it). But overthinking is a pain in the nipple when you're in a relationship. I was blissfully happy when I was with Mr Melon and watching films or chatting or gallivanting around the city and being all cute and PDA-y (Disclaimer: we were that couple that held hands, skipped, and sang songs together). But when he wasn't physically there (which was a lot of the time, because we were doing long distance) my brain, Bernard (yes, I've named him) started being a difficult dick and overthinking everything. Was I happy? Did he really love me? Was I making him happy? Would he always stand by me? And, again, was I happy???
And I've realised that my relationship with Mr Melon was great in so many ways, but it's OK that it's over. I don't think I'm mature enough for a relationship yet...!!! They're just so serious, and I put so much pressure on them to fill me up with happiness. Whereas, now that I'm back to being the Mayoress of Singleton, I can go back to making life a barrel of banter.
My New Years' Resolution is to just take things less seriously, and (oh, God, I'm such a cringe) to find myself. I sound like I'm about to go on a Gap Yah to Indonesia. But I'm serious - I'm now 20, so it's time I start taking care of myself.
Your twenties are there to learn from the mistakes you made as a teen, to move on, to try and be the best version of yourself you can be, and to have a LOT of fun! So, that's the aim for this decade.
Keep you posted on how that goes,
Grammar Gal
Thursday, 27 August 2015
Classy Girls
I've always loved Audrey Hepburn. Not only does she have flawless style in all of the films I've seen her in (I mean, have you SEEN her little black dress at the start of Breakfast at Tiffany's?!) but she's just so...elegant. The way she climbs into a taxi and says "Step on it, darling!" is just so classy. She oozes sophistication throughout.
So I always assumed that I was an Audrey Hepburn type. I mean, this idea has been aided by the fact I went to an all-girls' Convent, where we learned (kinda) how to be ladies. Or we learned the next best thing - how to be sassy. And Latin - we had to learn Latin...
And yet...
The thing is, I'm about as classy as Simon Cowell is compassionate - the two just don't go hand in hand. I think that I only fully realised this t'other day. I was going out with some of my old Year 12 guy friends, and my best friend Yazz. Curly Haired Guy was also there - and he has not changed a bit!! He's still a cocky bum who is very charming and can be slimey when he's drunk!!
But in all seriousness, CHG is lovely - and he's such a hoot to be around! We were having a laugh at the start of the night, and I was being my usual Queen of Sass self...and then I hit the Vodka Wall. I was beyond drunk. The line of drunkness was a dot to me. Not only was I not allowed into the club we were going to, but I threw up on the pavement outside it. In from of CHG. Cringe-worthy or what?!
And he was being so bloody nice - and he stayed outside and chatted with me for like an hour. And he let me rest my head on his shoulder. I was still with Mr Melon at the time and of course I dont think of CHG in that way but I have to admit that it was nice being taken care of. Maybe Freud was onto something when he said that we all secretly fancy our parents - because I seriously dig the protective vibe thing.
But anyways. Back to my point. I spent the whole night throwing up in the club's toilets (after they eventually let me in...A bad judgement call on their part) and being a genuine embarrassment. WHY DO I HAVE NO CLASS?!?!
Funily enough, I haven't really heard from CHG since that evening...
Oh well, I guess my guy friends were under the false impression that uni would have changed me and made me more "mature" and "able to handle my drink". But, alas. A leopard never changes its spots!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Friday, 7 August 2015
Sleeping over at a boy's house
I blame my all-girls grammar school upbringing for my awkwardness around members of the opposite sex. Whenever I'm in a room with them, I can feel my heart beating really fast - not in a "oooh he's so dreamy" way, but in a "OMG WHAT THE HELL SHOULD I SAY TO THIS MYTHICAL CREATURE?!?!" way.
So you can imagine how I was feeling when I went and stayed round at my friend's house t'other day. I had so many queries before I even left my house, like
A. What kind of pyjamas does one bring to a boy-girl sleepover? I mean, it's hot so I want to wear shorts, but then do shorts give off a sexual message? Would the guys think I was sending off a "Come and Get It" signal?? So then I thought about taking long trousers but, alas, it's so hot in England at the moment that it's practically the south of France! So I took both shorts and trousers and decided to choose a pair when I got there (I chose shorts in the end because I realised that I have the sex appeal of a gremlin, and that my guy friends would know I wasn't coming onto them anyway!)
B. Where does one sleep at a boy-girl sleepover? In my head, the boys and girls would be lying side-by-side in the living room, or top-tailing on the sofas. But does that constitute sleeping with someone else? If I did that then would that mean I was cheating on my dreamy Mr Melon??? In the end, my guy friend (who was hosting the massive sleepover) decided to let all the girls have the beds - it was a very Titanic moment (you know, where women and children get to go on the lifeboats first) and very...'gentlemanly' according to everyone there. The feminist in me was a wee bit outraged that women were being sectioned off in this way, since it implied that we could not deal with sleeping on the floor. But the sleepyhead in me was not in the mood to make a fuss and, besides, the guy's bed was super comfy!
C. Is it OK to go to the loo at a boy's house? To this day, I'm not sure what the protocol is. I've been to parties at boys' houses before and I always try to hold it. If I'm reallllly desperate, then I allow myself to pee in their house. But what if I needed to do a Number Two?? (This did actually happen at the sleepover!!! I had to hold it in for DAYS. Oh, the agony :'( ). If I was sleeping over at a girl's house then I guess I would have the same dilemma... But it just seems so much worse at a boy's house!
With all of these questions whizzing around my head, I was naturally nervous to stay over. But I ended up having a whale of a time - it was a real hoot and a half!! I also feel like I learned a lot...
1. Beer pong is NOT fun, unless you are
A. Drunk.
B. Invited to play.
2. Boys like to talk about sex when they're drunk.
3. Boys like to lie about whether they vommed or not. My guy friend was vomming in the loo and I could hear him in there, but the next day he said "Yeah, I did chunder once - it was in your neighbour's front lawn - sorry about that!! Banter..?!?!" AND THAT WAS A LIE!! I heard him puking his guts out IN THE TOILET like a decent citizen :')
4. Boys are obsessed with banter.
5. Sometimes at a sleepover, the host will act like a Father Figure. This really baffled me. So I was getting into bed with my female friend, and we were getting all cosy when I suddenly looked up and saw the scariest tiger animal in the world! Its eyes were so piercing and creepy and oooo I'm getting shivers just remembering him. So, yes, I may have let out a little scream. Suddenly, the host was in our room and cracking up about my phobia of this tiger. He brought the tiger towards me and made me stroke it, then told me to take it to bed with me to cure the phobia. At the end of this chat, when my friend and I were back in bed, he said "Night girls" and turned the light off. It was so fatherly!!! I felt very much like a 5-year-old who had just been cuddled after having a nightmare. So bizarre!!!
6. It's OK to use a boy's towel. Now, I had always thought that boy's towels were Strictly Off Limits - because they wipe their...bananas with them. And I don't want to wipe my face with something that boys have wiped their bananas (and oranges!) on. But at sleepovers it is apparently totally normal to borrow a boy's towel. Naturally, I tried to avoid using the towel on my...private areas (what if I somehow got pregnant?!?!).
So anyways, it was a very educational and fun trip!
I have a party coming up tomorrow night and it's fancy dress (Theme: Country of your choice) so, naturally, mother wants me to dress up as a sexy Hawaiin dancer or something. But I'm thinking of painting myself red and going as the dragon from the Welsh flag... I really hope this isn't going to be like when Georgia dresses up as an olive in Angus Thongs... That would be beyond awks!!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
So you can imagine how I was feeling when I went and stayed round at my friend's house t'other day. I had so many queries before I even left my house, like
A. What kind of pyjamas does one bring to a boy-girl sleepover? I mean, it's hot so I want to wear shorts, but then do shorts give off a sexual message? Would the guys think I was sending off a "Come and Get It" signal?? So then I thought about taking long trousers but, alas, it's so hot in England at the moment that it's practically the south of France! So I took both shorts and trousers and decided to choose a pair when I got there (I chose shorts in the end because I realised that I have the sex appeal of a gremlin, and that my guy friends would know I wasn't coming onto them anyway!)
B. Where does one sleep at a boy-girl sleepover? In my head, the boys and girls would be lying side-by-side in the living room, or top-tailing on the sofas. But does that constitute sleeping with someone else? If I did that then would that mean I was cheating on my dreamy Mr Melon??? In the end, my guy friend (who was hosting the massive sleepover) decided to let all the girls have the beds - it was a very Titanic moment (you know, where women and children get to go on the lifeboats first) and very...'gentlemanly' according to everyone there. The feminist in me was a wee bit outraged that women were being sectioned off in this way, since it implied that we could not deal with sleeping on the floor. But the sleepyhead in me was not in the mood to make a fuss and, besides, the guy's bed was super comfy!
C. Is it OK to go to the loo at a boy's house? To this day, I'm not sure what the protocol is. I've been to parties at boys' houses before and I always try to hold it. If I'm reallllly desperate, then I allow myself to pee in their house. But what if I needed to do a Number Two?? (This did actually happen at the sleepover!!! I had to hold it in for DAYS. Oh, the agony :'( ). If I was sleeping over at a girl's house then I guess I would have the same dilemma... But it just seems so much worse at a boy's house!
With all of these questions whizzing around my head, I was naturally nervous to stay over. But I ended up having a whale of a time - it was a real hoot and a half!! I also feel like I learned a lot...
1. Beer pong is NOT fun, unless you are
A. Drunk.
B. Invited to play.
2. Boys like to talk about sex when they're drunk.
3. Boys like to lie about whether they vommed or not. My guy friend was vomming in the loo and I could hear him in there, but the next day he said "Yeah, I did chunder once - it was in your neighbour's front lawn - sorry about that!! Banter..?!?!" AND THAT WAS A LIE!! I heard him puking his guts out IN THE TOILET like a decent citizen :')
4. Boys are obsessed with banter.
5. Sometimes at a sleepover, the host will act like a Father Figure. This really baffled me. So I was getting into bed with my female friend, and we were getting all cosy when I suddenly looked up and saw the scariest tiger animal in the world! Its eyes were so piercing and creepy and oooo I'm getting shivers just remembering him. So, yes, I may have let out a little scream. Suddenly, the host was in our room and cracking up about my phobia of this tiger. He brought the tiger towards me and made me stroke it, then told me to take it to bed with me to cure the phobia. At the end of this chat, when my friend and I were back in bed, he said "Night girls" and turned the light off. It was so fatherly!!! I felt very much like a 5-year-old who had just been cuddled after having a nightmare. So bizarre!!!
6. It's OK to use a boy's towel. Now, I had always thought that boy's towels were Strictly Off Limits - because they wipe their...bananas with them. And I don't want to wipe my face with something that boys have wiped their bananas (and oranges!) on. But at sleepovers it is apparently totally normal to borrow a boy's towel. Naturally, I tried to avoid using the towel on my...private areas (what if I somehow got pregnant?!?!).
So anyways, it was a very educational and fun trip!
I have a party coming up tomorrow night and it's fancy dress (Theme: Country of your choice) so, naturally, mother wants me to dress up as a sexy Hawaiin dancer or something. But I'm thinking of painting myself red and going as the dragon from the Welsh flag... I really hope this isn't going to be like when Georgia dresses up as an olive in Angus Thongs... That would be beyond awks!!
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Sunday, 2 August 2015
Meet the Artful Dodger
The other day I had the most mahoosive blast from the past, which came in the shape of a very tall boy with curly black hair...Yes, for those of you who remember him, it was Curly Haired Guy. I've always liked that nickname because it makes me think of a boy with a Pubic Hair-style, and that's a giggle-worthy image. I mean, would the guy brush his hair if it was so short and curly?? Do people comb their pubic hair?? Ooooo I'm not liking this train of thought (or the mental images that are accompanying it). Must not google whether people comb pubic hair. Must stay on track with my story.
OK, as I was saying. I saw CHG (whose hair does not look like pubic hair - just for the record!) t'other day at a gathering (yes, we are in year 12 again!) and we got to talking. The conversation was easy and light (partly because I was a complete drunk skunk, and would have had a very animating conversation with a lampost if I had happened to see one) and I don't remember much of it, but it was nice.
Obviously that door is well and truly closed. There isn't even a twitch of longing there anymore which is gooooooood - CHG and I will forever only be amigos (ever since he ditched me for that 8-year-old two years ago...Totes over that...That clealry didn't wound my ego. At all...)
I'm being side-tracked from my story once again. ANYWAYS. I was talking to CHG and I remember him saying "you're exactly the same as you were two years ago" (I think that's a compliment - I mean, I hate change - as my parents will testify, since I've been ranting about our new kitchen lights for a good two weeks now...) BUT THEN HE ADDED "well...your accent has changed a bit actually. You keep slipping into cockney".
So it turns out that University has tranformed me into a member of the cast of Oliver. Yes, I do drop my 't's occassionally now - because I'm a lazy daisy (and 'wa'er' is the same thing as 'water' for goodnes' sake!). But I was not aware that my new-found accent was going to affect the way that people saw me. Hmmm....I guess, some people at uni do say I sound like I'm from Eastenders.
But I don't know what's happening with my accent at the moment - it literally has a life of its own! One minute, I'm Stacey from Eastenders, then suddenly I'm posh tottie Miranda Hart, and then I sometimes sound like I'm from the West Country (think 'Alice' from The Vicar of Dibley - according to one of my best friends, which is the height of rudeness!!).
So, CHG has made me start thinking... Do people frown upon the cockney accent? In this day and age, is it compulsory to be posh?? If I was in a job interview then I would probably put on a fake accent (the aforementioned Miranda Hart one) and then start dropping my 't's when they were stuck with me (mwahahaha). But when it comes to socialising with your friends...
I don't know. I've also realised that my voice sounds a lot more...'London' when I'm nervous. It's like the accent has special poowers that make me into a social butterfly!
So, to conclude, I'm happy with my weird accent! And CHG will just have to learn to speak the lingo :')
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
OK, as I was saying. I saw CHG (whose hair does not look like pubic hair - just for the record!) t'other day at a gathering (yes, we are in year 12 again!) and we got to talking. The conversation was easy and light (partly because I was a complete drunk skunk, and would have had a very animating conversation with a lampost if I had happened to see one) and I don't remember much of it, but it was nice.
Obviously that door is well and truly closed. There isn't even a twitch of longing there anymore which is gooooooood - CHG and I will forever only be amigos (ever since he ditched me for that 8-year-old two years ago...Totes over that...That clealry didn't wound my ego. At all...)
I'm being side-tracked from my story once again. ANYWAYS. I was talking to CHG and I remember him saying "you're exactly the same as you were two years ago" (I think that's a compliment - I mean, I hate change - as my parents will testify, since I've been ranting about our new kitchen lights for a good two weeks now...) BUT THEN HE ADDED "well...your accent has changed a bit actually. You keep slipping into cockney".
So it turns out that University has tranformed me into a member of the cast of Oliver. Yes, I do drop my 't's occassionally now - because I'm a lazy daisy (and 'wa'er' is the same thing as 'water' for goodnes' sake!). But I was not aware that my new-found accent was going to affect the way that people saw me. Hmmm....I guess, some people at uni do say I sound like I'm from Eastenders.
But I don't know what's happening with my accent at the moment - it literally has a life of its own! One minute, I'm Stacey from Eastenders, then suddenly I'm posh tottie Miranda Hart, and then I sometimes sound like I'm from the West Country (think 'Alice' from The Vicar of Dibley - according to one of my best friends, which is the height of rudeness!!).
So, CHG has made me start thinking... Do people frown upon the cockney accent? In this day and age, is it compulsory to be posh?? If I was in a job interview then I would probably put on a fake accent (the aforementioned Miranda Hart one) and then start dropping my 't's when they were stuck with me (mwahahaha). But when it comes to socialising with your friends...
I don't know. I've also realised that my voice sounds a lot more...'London' when I'm nervous. It's like the accent has special poowers that make me into a social butterfly!
So, to conclude, I'm happy with my weird accent! And CHG will just have to learn to speak the lingo :')
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)