Don't let the bedbugs bite.

So tired, so very very tired. Life has become a flurry of running around in my undies, helping elderly ladies to find garters and girdles and god knows what else, feeling unendingly frustrated with the genreal public and wearing the same clothes for one too many days on the trot. Without a good explanation all of this information would cause me to come across as a rather unseemly lass. But fear not, these woes spring from the following: working at M&S (garters, girdles and frustration; explained), taking part in What The Butler Saw (undies; explained) and living between homes (smelly Sian; explained). As much as I love love love spending so much time with the handsome Mr F (who is currently, and slightly unhandsomely, adorned with a 70's pornstar tashe HA) I do miss my own bed. Although, having said that, midnight cuddles are pretty much an irreplaceable pleasure.

So tonight, I am happy to say, my head will sleep soundly on it's own pillow. And tomorrow morning I will wake up on the day of the start of my chuffing birthday morning. What joy.

Tonsi-shite-is (tonsillitis is shite)

It's just a ruddy good thing that I have this bearded angel who listens to me whine and moan and cuddles me and comforts me and generally makes me feel happy despite the fact that I feel as if my body is declaring a mutiny against my brain. Why body, why? Stupid effing tonsils. For those of you who don't know, I officially have the largest tonsils in all of the South. They are mahusive. So, on a general basis they keep germs at bay and they mean that I rarely get properly ill. Tonsils are like nostril hairs in their function of preventing germ attacks don'tcha know! BUT, when they let their guard slip and the germ invasion manages to cross no man's land, then BOY do I get ill. My tonsils are currently so swollen that I geniunely can't eat anything because when I try to swallow the food bounces back up off of the wall of tonsilly swolleness that has been installed. Gross.

Shindig Ahoy!

Well last night was just lovely wasn't it! I had a bloody good time I must admit. Everyone looked extremely gorgeous. Cor Blimey, what a good-looking bunch. Congratulations to Gina and Andrew who both looked spiffing. Their first dance had us all 'awwwing' with vigour. It was just a brilliant night with brilliant people. So naturally, many fantastically fun things occurred! As usual, I got far too drunk and further tarnished my ongoing efforts to make people believe that I am an intelligent and respectable youth, not at all representative of the typical rowdy teenager of today.

Here is some evidence of 'Too much booze' syndrome:

Mr Woodward and I attempted to stun the crowd with our drunken dancing. It was going well until wobbly heels, flailing limbs and head-butting ensued. Chaos.

I proceeded to tell everyone, and I mean everyone, regardless of their desire to hear it, that "My Nana bought me this dress", "My Nana is so fashionable", "I love my Nana", "My Nana is the best Nana". All true by the way.

I fell down the stairs and landed on the Penroses. Legs akimbo and stick-on boobs threatening to come unstuck at any minute. It was highly embarrassing. I can only offer my deepest apologies and blame it on the heels.

I did my 'leaning-back dance'; a sure sign that the inebriation has gone too far. I get to a point of drunkness where I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that my limbo-esque move is possibly the most impressive thing happening in today's society.

During one of my many trips to the loo (I prematurely broke the pee barrier) I took a picture of myself in the mirror and laughed at it for a solid minute. Loser.

My departing comment to the lovely Chapmans as they set off on the walk home was "Don't get raped". The concern was genuine despite the flippant delivery.

And finally, stealing a trolley from Lidl and pushing Alice around the car park in the rain was the most fun ever. Drunken Trolley Dash Extravaganza.

I LOVE PARTIES!

S'later alligators.

This morning I've felt the need to be comforted. I've only gone and got the bladdy misery guts haven't I! Sheesh.

I've had to put on my Cuddly Maroon Cashmere Jumper (£4 in the M&S menswear sale. Size XXL). I've had to have Florence singing to me on repeat through itunes (I must become the lion-hearted girl lalalaaaa). I've had to have an epic bowl of cereal consisting of cheerios, special K AND shreddies (two helpings I might add). And I've had to browse the t'interweb, looking at and lusting for pretty dresses that I cannae afford (damn you ASOS.com)

Most of my friends have gone off to Uni now and are currently drinking copious amounts of alcomahol, making lots of brand spanking new friends and generally moving on into the next chapter of life. Despite it being my own decision to take a gap year, I am feeling a little left behind. Sigh. Yes I am silly and selfish and I want to ring them every day just to remind them not to forget about me. We were a good bunch at school and we got on like a blazin' house so I already miss them rather a lot really. This is the main thing that is giving me the misery guts.

Another thing is that I ain't got no monies. Me and 90% of the population of the world eh? Why can't we all just be nice and rich? Oh yeah.. the economy will crash, blah blah blah. Boring political stuff.

The final bullet point on my 'cruddy things list: Last night I had a dream that my brother died. It was possibly the most realistic dream I've ever had. No surreal flying giraffes or roads made of tin foil or anything; just worryingly realistic situations with realistic dialogue and real people. It was absolutely horrific. In my dream I was crying so hard that I couldn't breathe and I was choking and everything. Suddenly I woke up to find that the crying bit wasn't just a dream - my pillow was wet and I was crying like a toddler. Do you know when toddlers cry so much that their faces are wet and they aren't actually making any noise because they can't catch their breath? And it's heartbreaking to watch? That was me last night. For a second I panicked and wondered if Callum really had died, because why else would I be in such a state in the middle of the night? And all I could think about was how I'd had a go at him earlier that evening for not making me some soup! He's at school now and until I see him in the flesh this avo when he gets home, I don't think I'm going to be able to put it out of my mind. Rubbish. And quite creepy.

However, despite all of this whining and on a much happier note, I just received a speldourful text, which made me feel much happier:
"I will wrap your beautiful heart in my big snuggly fleecy blanket of friendship, whether you like it or not."
Cor, she's lovely. Now I am smiling.

Ta-ta.

Last Thursday, the 20th August 2009, was a rather monumental day for me. Not only because I received my A-level results, not merely because 7 years of hard slog have been rewarded, not simply because doors are being opened for me and friends but because (drum roll please) ...I have never been so drunk in my entire life. I think what happened to me that fateful night at Tiger Tiger was really quite hilarious. It is my duty to retell it, perhaps even pass it down through the generations as a warning; alcohol ain't all that. After some thought, I have come to the conclusion that the best way to regale you with my evening of wonder is through the medium of texts. All of the texts reproduced in this blog are 100% genuine and have not been tampered with at all.

To: Tebb
Time: 20:37
75p vodka red bull. Hurry along :) x X

Tebb asked where we were. Excitement builds for an epic night

To: Tebb
Time: 20:48
A booth in the 70s bit x X

To: Rachel
Time: 22:22
Where are you? We love YOU

She replies something about Hanson and glitter balls

To: Rachel
Time: 22:23
That makes no sense. Where are you?

To: Tebb
Time: 23:36
I'm lost I'm lost. I'm in the loos x Xx

This is where it all goes wrong

To: Finch
Time: 00:00
I can't see i modud youn I'm in ve jon in going to be real. Hols me. I def awful. This sucks. I''m sweating. I feel shit.

To: Finch
Time: 00:11
I'm sacred. I haven't drunk that much. I feel freaked out cos I feel so drunk. H've been sat on the toilert floor for an hour

To: Finch
Time: 00:24
Please help me please. I can't leave the toilets. I feel so ill. I do't know wit t do. XXXX

My friends were in the toilets calling my name. I was too drunk to notice

To: Finch
Time: 00:30
Ther's noone here. I'm so ill. i'm on my own. Weher shall I goo? XXX

My knight in shining armour tells me he's coming to save me

To: Finch
Time: 00:38
I'm inma pass ouut. I feel so bad. Where dy I wait? I feel so bad. Help me x X

To: Finch
Time: 00:47
The main door of Tiger? wHEN are you here? I am not in a good wan. I Boo hardly get out. I have jkangok. Boo. I am stuck x X

I return home to Finch's flat only to discover that all my overnight stuff, my clothes for the next day and my bike are still at Fi's house in Havant. I was meant to have gone back to stay at hers. So, on Friday morning, my lovely lovely man had to drive me to Fi's so that I could collect my stuff, get changed and go to rehearsal. I turned up to the rehearsal 20 minutes late because I'd had to stop several times on the way to jump off of my bike and throw up into the bushes. I arrived with a bucket in tow (the morning's car journey proved too much of a daunting prospect without one) and proceeded to chunder 18 times throughout the day, much to the bemusement of my fellow cast members! The afternoon ended with a cheery suggestion from Vincent and Nathan of 'anyone fancy the pub?'

Off on Holly-day, innit.

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...
Shame we're going to Herefordshire really then isn't it. Heehee.

Off for a lovely week in a little cottage. I am really rather excited. Sure; skiing is thrilling, camping is adventurous, hot climates are tempting but to be honest a quiet week in beautiful surroundings with hot running water is my idea of heaven at the moment. I do feel slightly guilty because for the rest of the family this is an opportunity to escape the hustle and bustle of the 9 to 5 - jobs and responsibilities. For me, it's a chance to continue doing what I've done for the last 2 months: bum around achieving nothing. Since school ended (sob) I have found myself to be the most successful slob. It seems that without motivation I lapse into lazy rubbishness.

I need a mission...something to get my brain and bum in gear.

If only I had something to work towards.

If I only I was doing something of huge importance with copious amounts of responsibility attached.

Something like, oh I don't know, directing a play...?

Ah yes, that's right, I am doing that.

PANIC.

Bleurgh

I am getting more than a little sick and tired of my complete inability to drink alcohol without feeling horrendously ill and (pardon the crudeness...) chundering like a demon. It may only be one pint of cider, it may only be one glass of pimms but regardless of quantity, it's bound to come back and haunt me. Literally. Sick sick sick of it. Notice how the word 'sick' has apt implications!!! My body is not a temple, it's a major fecking letdown. And that, my friends, is that.

Blame it on the boogie.

Wow, Michael Jackson is dead.

The reaction to his death has been quite literally overwhelming. Facebook was flooded with statuses such as 'MJ is dead', 'OMG, a legend has died' and 'RIP MJ'.

The LA Times probably used Facebook as an official source.

All due respect to the man and his family and friends - death is always a tragedy.

However, I must alleviate the sheer pressure that has been put on my brain by all the annoying, attention-seeking ignoramuses of this world.

Firstly, I love how, all of sudden, people are on nickname terms with 'MJ'. Oh silly me, they must have known him personally - been BFFs, chatted on MSN or something. But part of me is suspicious that these numbnuts just don't know how to spell Michael; is it A before E, or E before A? Hmmmm, Tricky.

Secondly, (and here's where I state the obvious) every sodding day millions of people die in horrific ways, not a sin to their name, undeserving and afraid and most importantly without a penny to leave to their children and families. Not to mention a multi-million dollar empire. But does anyone devote their evenings to mourning the deaths and praising the lives of these people? These strangers? No. No they do not. Because if you don't know someone, it is incredibly easy to distance yourself from their death - it's human nature! We are a selfish species! So why is it that we are all selfish and oblivious until the death is that of someone who has given us some chart-toppers? Then all of a sudden people are reverential and self-righteous.

Don't get me wrong - Mr Jackson did a lot for the entertainment industry and to his fans I'm sure he was an idol, an inspiration - all that jazz. I feel for his family. But to those people who have been damning the jokes and quips that have been circulating the web, you obviously have not suffered enough personal bereavement. I absolutely resent the fact that anyone should be attacked for not 'respecting' his death. It's not disrespect! Perhaps it's just indifference. But I didn't know the feller!

If the general public put as much energy into worrying about poverty, starvation and hatred than they have put into mourning a celebrity that they didn't even know, we'd be making steps towards a better nicer globe, innit.

Oh how I love to jump up onto my high horse. But seriously, people annoy me.

I wish I was a trekkie

I am proud (yes proud) to report that I have seen the Star Trek movie TWICE already. I feel like a true geek. But there's just a whole level of geekdom that I will never be able to achieve - the whole speaking Klingon, wearing pointy Vulcan ears and that. That makes me quite sad. The movie was so GOOD. "Good God man, I'm a doctor not a physicist!" Go see it now. RUN...go...now...

What else? Ummm...Only an official week left of actual proper school and then (dun dun dunnnn) exams. I am far too too lazy and laid back about said exams but hey ho, it normally turns out okay despite the distinct lacks of revision. So fingers crossed that my four leaf clover will serve me well one last time! It will be so weird to say that I hold no actual affiliations with PHS any more. I love my school. It's a love-hate relationship. Often it hates me, and I love it, and I hate that I love it.

Cowboy has jetted off to L'america for THREE whole weeks. That's pretty much like forever. But I have assurances of presents and spoiling on his return. I am a lucky lucky thing is what I am.

General goings-on are normal really. Oh! I have a car! That's new! Thank you to Penny for leaving it to me. You are just lovely and I can't even express my gratitude in words so i have been blowing kisses instead. Anything else? ... Nope. Life trundles on like a penny farthing being ridden down a cobbled street. How poetic.

Bed time now.

If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Spoken like a true genius, Spock.

Traaaa-laaa-laaa. Over and out.

Una lentejuela.

Hooray, hooray, Durham let me in. This is good thing number 1 of recent weeks. I thought they would say 'no, you are too unclever' but they said 'yes, we like you please' which is most exciting. Good thing number 2 was the Penelopiad. It was splendiforous and I miss it like crazy. I can't get the lines out of my head! All of the performances went pretty much perfectly and we couldn't wished for a better success so a big sigh of relief from all of us.

My room is super duper tidy at the moment, which, for some reason, makes me feel like a much better person. I think It's because I don't feel like a dirty tramp living in squalor any more. Strange how the state on one's room can have such an effect on their psyche.

School is slightly getting us all down. It's just getting to that point where elitism is becoming an intolerable ingredient of daily life. It is a source of joyous hilarity to us all that our promotional billboards read 'we treat everyone the same; as individuals.' It sums up two things - the pretentious trying-to-be-clever-and-profound-itis with the use of a crappy pun AND the lies that spew forth from the mouth of the top dogs every day. But hey, I suppose I have enjoyed some of the best years of my life so far within it's walls and I have a lot to thank it for. So I will try to keep schtum and keep the complaining to a minimum.

Cowboy is a wondrous thing. He makes my sun shine.

Why I am always yawning?

I love Bill.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments...