I'd rather be anything but ordinary please.

First and foremost, I just checked my blogroll to discover that Lisa from Clusterfook has died. She was really brave and worked with what she was given, so she deserves as much recognition as she gets and more.

Rest in peace.

---

Let me introduce you to someone I have known for a very long time, though I haven't seen her for almost three years.

She was about 5"2, dusty blond, kind of spotty and fairly chubby. Oh, and her teeth were slightly funny too, but apparently it wasn't so noticeable as she thought. She went by the name of Nicky, though a few people called her Nicole, and she was 12 years old.

Nicky was pathetic. She frequently missed school out of fear of PE, as the subject and/or teachers made her so nervous she became ill. ALL THE TIME.

Nicky cried the one time she got a detention. In fact, Nicky was so miserable (without reason, in my humble opinion) that she cried all the time. Even the lyrics of Avril Lavigne's Anything But Ordinary made her cry. Her case was that bad.

Nicky had a nervy B anytime MSN flashed up on her computer screen because it might have been him, the boy she was utterly obsessed with at the time - a boy I am at loathe to see every day of my sodding existence at school - Bastard Chris.

When on MSN, Nicky felt nervous starting up a conversation with people, as she worried that if someone hadn't spoken to her already, maybe they didn't want to talk to her.

Nicky spent hours at night worrying that:

1. 'Hi' was too informal.
2. 'Hello' was too formal.
3. ;-) and =P were too suggestive.

Nicky was very easy to manipulate, as you could guilt her into anything. E.g. When she had to get a new settee, she felt so sorry for the old couch that she burst into tears and hugged it.

The same thing happened with the bath. Have you ever tried to hug a bath? Nicky nearly broke her arms attempting that one.

Nicky was so bad a dealing with her emotions that when she was angry at certain aforementioned bastards, she destroyed anything she could find relating to him.

Nicky was a loser.

So after some things that got said/done/undone, Nicky slipped into the blackest emotional hole seen since... well, ever, within my own personal history up to that point, and didn't resurface in any way, shape or form for almost a year.

And that was the last time I saw her.

Since then, this incredible nutter called Nicole (very rarely Nicky) arrived, and life has never been the same. Nicole uses ;-) and =P with gay abandon, she has this freaky thing called a blog to air her various and numerous grievances and she can MSN like there's no tomorrow, in full and precise English. Seriously, there should be medal of some kind for my MSN action.

I don't waste valuable sleeping time thinking about whether people like me or not, and I'm coming up with more creative ways of striking up half-arsed conversation every day. ('LOL. What? I don't know, did you do something funny today?' and 'OMG. What now? It's YOU!' are two of my most recent endeavours)

Saying goodbye is a little bit more difficult to cater for though.

I may or may not have had something really witty to finish this post with, but I'd be amazed if anyone read this far.

Five profound things I discovered today....

1. My sister is a secret connoisseur of whackass souvenirs. I discovered this last night when I heard something say 'hola' in a funny accent. It was a toy bull my mum brought back from Spain.

2. My mum said that my father is not, in fact, this man, who I live with and also happen to have the same eyes as, but is in fact this man, who is in one of my favourite films of all time, August Rush.

3. I have the single most awesome screensaver of all time, as it features Seattle, Forks, La Push, Starbucks, Mount Rainier, Microsoft and Pike Place Market.

4. Both of my dad's bands (assuming my dad is who I think he is...) have MySpace, a fact I am most amused by.

5. I haven't eaten today. It's 5.15pm and I haven't sodding eaten.

How the hell did I forget to eat?!

I'm... beyond disturbed.

And hungry.

The cat's mother.

I am Nicole is someone who regularly posts here is going to post about Nicole in the third person today because it sounded funny in her head when she was stumbling around in the dark last night.

Last night, Nicole discovered that if she ate, she didn't ache as much as if she didn't eat and so went into her kitchen at the dead of night searching for Pot Noodles and other edibles to devour.

In the dark, Nicole could see something wrapped up in shiny foil. She thought 'ooh, maybe it's chocolate' and reached out to touch it. She picked it up to see that it was dripping with something. She decided it probably wasn't chocolate and put it down, flicking on the light.

She noticed the lightswitch was covered in blood.

'MURDER!' she was about to scream. Then she saw that her hand was covered in blood too.

Not even nice, vampire-approved blood.

It was the horrible watery blood that you get when you defrost meat.

Needless to say, poor little vegetarian-of-nine-years Nicole was very nearly sick.

She even adopted a Lady MacBeth-esque attitude, scrubbing at her hands and croaking 'out damned spot' for the best of ten minutes.

Because Nicole is weird like that.

Nicole is also weird in the sense that she likes Chuck Norris jokes too, because laughing at Chuck Norris and/or his sheer awesomeness is something Nicole likes to do.

[N.B. If this isn't posted at approximately 3.30pm GMT and you see Nicole's head fly past your window in the next few seconds, you know that Chuck Norris heard that.]

[And only Chuck Norris' tears will be able to put Nicole back together again.]

[But Chuck Norris doesn't cry.]

[Ever.]

Actually, Nicole thinks that Chuck Norris would have no need for tear ducts, but then again, Chuck Norris can be a very thrifty little person. Maybe he's just supplying extra tears for his victims.

But then again Chuck Norris doesn't need a lot of things. It's a proven fact that Chuck Norris has no need for a Ctrl key on his computer, because Chuck Norris is always in control.

Unlike Nicole.

But Nicole is going now because she wants to learn how to kill two stones with one bird like Chuck Norris can.

I'm a comic genius...

(click picture to enlarge)

Apologies for this... When I drew it out in rough (anything I draw is rough) the one that's meant to be me looked a little less demonic...

---

I'm not sure when Lent is... My life is that devoid of belief, but I know that it's sometime soonish, so I have a plan that will make my life very interesting and purposeful over the next forty days and nights. I am going to do a total of forty things that I don't usually do.

Drawing a comic for my blog was number 24 on my list, but it was the most fun-looking, so I decided to start with it.

Enjoy!

I love you baby.

I was just talking away to Cherry on MSN, minding my own business when she said this...

[Apologies for the MSN transcript, I know they are blogging faux pas...]

Chez says:
I will upload a blog in a matter of seconds.
August Rush - Oww fuckety oww says:
Awesome
August Rush - Oww fuckety oww says:
Did you get my copyright notice?
Chez says:
Should be there.
Chez says:
Seeya x

*At this point I go to read Cherry's latest blog post*

August Rush - Oww fuckety oww says:
BITCH!

Look what she's posted.

I need to explain that top picture.

I look like a douche because:

a) It was day four/five of Berlin and I'd had no sleep in that time.
b) I wasn't very engaged because EVERYONE had their cameras out and were snapping away.
c) I was at the top of the Berlin TV tower looking down.

Now, remembering that I have all these FANTASTIC reasons, I would like you to look at this picture.



What's Cherry's excuse here? She took this photo all by herself... I just assisted in the background (note: Me and Joe are like the devils on her shoulders... Cherry has no angels).



I also think that Cherry was very evil to interrupt this potentially beautiful scene. Me and Matt could have been having a TENDER MOMENT for all Cherry knew. (I jest, I jest...)

So TAKE THAT, Cherry!

Don't stop me now.

You know you get ill, and you want to scream and shout at said illness? You can't be ill. You're not allowed to be ill because your evil warlord of a chemistry teacher will dissolve you with hydrochloric acid if you so much as think of missing a lesson (at Flufford we have the fear of HCl struck into us at a very young age...).

I'm having one of those days/weeks/years.

After the month of illness that ensued when I contracted and played host to The Great Plague Of 2008 last year, I didn't expect to get ill again for another decade or so.

No such luck.

We went to the doctors today. After being nearly decapitated by the newly installed (and apparently faulty) doors, me and my mum were summoned...

The following ten minutes were tortuous. I was poked, prodded and made to wish that I'd never been born, particularly to my mother, who kept up a long string of jokes at my expense for almost an hour after we left.

Throughout the appointment, I could tell the doctor was hating me more and more for having a difficult immune system.

The conversation went as follows...

Doctor I-Want-My-Lunch-Break: Okay, so let me just get a look at your tonsils.
Victim 101 (Me): *croaking as am DYING here* Uhh... I don't know where they are.
Doctor I-Want-My-Lunch-Break: That's why I'm the doctor.
Victim 101: No, I mean, I don't have them anymore. I had them taken out.
Doctor I-Want-My-Lunch-Break: *sigh* Right. Well do you eat a lot of fruit and vegetables?
Victim 101: No, I can't, I'm allergic to the acid in them.
Doctor I-Want-My-Lunch-Break: *clears throat in a very pissed off way* Okay... When was your last period?
Victim 101: Not sure. I'm not so masochistic, I don't count the days until I have to walk around bleeding again.
Doctor I-Want-My-Lunch-Break: Go lie on the bed please.

*Mum cracks up laughing at the expression on my face*

Looking at it like that, it's understandable that Doc was pretty peeved, but I wasn't actually being that annoying, he was just short-tempered and pervy.

This is the kind of crap I'm subjected to whilst I'm dying of the plague.

This is NO GOOD people!

I could have been doing something interesting, like swinging with these cool dudes.



Yup, meet 11SBY (PG in spirit).

But no, I couldn't be in this picture, because I'm ILL.

I am not impressed with my immune system right now.

Hitting home.

I posted last week about my home here in Blighty, but I just discovered some of Facebook's golden nougats on the subject of my hometown, York, which my local followers will surely appreciate...

You know you're in York when...

1) you meet up at the fountain.
2) you know the name of all the "bars" (Walmgate Bar, Micklegate Bar, etc. Not the drinking places).
3) you pass the Minster every weekend but have never been in it.
4) you promise yourself you'll go on a ghostwalk but probably never will.
5) you wonder how many foreign people's photos you're in.
6) you know what a "snickelway" is.
7) you've got pissed on the moor or knavesmire at least once.
8) you start getting pissed off with people in walking boots and wearing backpacks, because you know they're FUCKING tourists.
9) you act pissed off when a tourist asks you for directions (but you secretly love it).
10) you know you shouldn't, but always find yourself eating at Jumbo's.
11) you know Plaggy Terry and/or have a photo with him.
12) you've seen "Janice Church" written somewhere... (who is she?).
13) you know the only decent cinema is a thirty minute buss ride away.
14) you still get excitred when seeing the squirrels in the museum gardens.
15) you don't go to the back of the Museum Gardens because you know, invariably, you will be stabbed.
16) having Vikings, Romans and dead people walk by you has become a matter of course and you don't give it a second thought.
17) you've seen EVERY single buskers act in the WHOLE of York, but you'll still stop every now and then to watch it again.
17 (cont.) you deliberately walk behind the Zombie to make him jump at you and then act as if nothing's happened, JUST to impress the tourists.
18) you act as if you dont care when the river floods to the tourists, but when no one's looking, you rush over and have a look.
19) you think you know all the "shortcuts" in York, but tbh, they're always clogged up with shitty tourists.
20) you wait ALL year for the ice rink and you get excited, but once it's here, you realise how shit it is.
21) you dont realise a good thing till it's gone... Woolies (R.I.P). [And The Banana Warehouse...]
22) you stop and listen to the Christian preachers... not because they have anyting valid to say, you just fancy some cheap laughs.
23) you get pissed that the only Facebook network you can add is shitty "Leeds".
24) you cringe when the free hugs guy comes near you.
25) you always buy a bag of mis-shapes from the cadburys store when you go to the outlet.
26) you always complained about the York Wheel being an eyesore, but now you're sad it's gone and you never rode on it.
27) you miss the smell of the sugar beat factory.
28) you know the best chippy there is, is Ebor Fisheries on Bishy Road (ask any Millthorpe or All Saints student).
29) you miss the smell of the sugar beat factory.
30) you've had one of the best sandwiches you've ever had from Mr. £andwich!!! [I disagree! The one in Heslington by the University is best by far!]
31) you miss the little Christmas tree, atop the sugar beat factory.
32) you used to stand near and call the phoneboxes outside Odeon and near the fountain to see who would answer them.
33) you're sickened by the toilets in Parliament Street. [*shudder*]
34) you still dont understand why we have 3 pizza huts and 4 subways? [and 8 Starbucks! But I'm not complaining about THAT...]
35) you chose to eat at Caesar's, just to have faces made at you by the ghost walkers. Love them kids. [Haha... That happened to me once... I love that restaurant...]
36) you remember the peacocks that used to roam unhindered about the Gardens.
37) everytime you walk past MacDonald's, you're bound to see a loada kids sat on the window sill for some reason. Have they nowhere better to be? [Uhh, no. York has nowhere for ANYBODY other than tourists.]

---

And this was second thing that caught my attention...

I joined this group:




And scrolled down to see this:



Now, I think it's slightly ironic that I should scroll down a group called 'Everyone knows everyone in York' to see that I knew practically everyone shown to be part of the group.

Look, even Tabitha is there! I share a blog with her!!

York's a tiny place really, I've just proven it.

A note from me to you.

I haven't done anything productive, interesting or fun today. I got a play-by-play account of what happened at the Oscars last night. I typed up the City Of York Teenage Pregnancy Strategy. I ate yummy vegetarian sushi. I stayed curled up in pain unable to eat due to various pitfalls at different stages of my digestive system. I told Cherry I was going to arrest her for STEALING PARTS OF MY BLOG (WITCHCRAFT!).

Other than all that? Nothing.

I have nothing to write. It's kind of understandable as I have gone from looking slightly out of it like this:



To death on legs like this:



Over the course of just a few days.

So it's reasonable for me to have concentrated on STAYING ALIVE rather than thinking of things to write.

...I have a feeling I'm going to take that back pretty soon.

Pride and Prejudice

People often hear the word pride and think of all the negative connotations of it. I confess, I'm someone who shies away from praise, being too modest for 'normal' people's standards. Bit I've kind of grown more fond of pride over time, I can appreciate me on the same level as other people these days.

Pride is watching a child grow, loving her so much, and then feeling all warm inside because they got recognition at school, and you're smiling because you told the world all along that she was an incredible little girl from the word go.

Pride is the grin on your face when your form teacher admits that you are better with words than he is.

Pride is the hope you feel when a teacher gives you a glowing report in your favourite subject, and them telling you that you should feel proud, and you do because, well... They've taught you well so far.

Pride is the happiness that comes with setting yourself a goal and then achieving it, and life being better for it.

Pride is a writer seeing his name in print for the first time and him promising himself that it is merely the first of many.

Pride is an artist filling a canvas with imagination, stepping back on completion and thinking "see? I've made my dream a reality."

Real pride is doing something for yourself that benefits others.

Modesty is doing something for others that benefits yourself.

Be happy with who you are. You can't go wrong.

For a pessimist I'm pretty optimistic.

Today I'm going to talk a little a lot loads about someone I look up to.



Meet Hayley Williams.

Incase you don't know, Hayley Williams is the singer of a fantabulous band called Paramore.



Hayley Williams is incredible. She's lovely, loud and can really put on a show.



And on a slightly more obvious note, she looks awesome too.



Best. Hair. Ever.



Seriously, I want that hair.

Mine.

She's 19 and she's already done what I'd be happy doing over the span of a lifetime. Her middle name's Nichole (Give it up for Nicoles and Nicholes everywhere!) and her aim is to make music that people, 30 or 40 years from now, wish they were around for. She's awesome!



She helps write the most incredible songs and she pumps them full of energy before utterly leveling the crowd with the force of it in shows. She's a tiny 5'1 and the only girl in her band but MAN does she have dominion.

I love Paramore because their music is utter rebellion, which, being angsty teenager 101 in desperate need of a reality check, is great. Things like 'I can feel the pressure is getting closer now/ We're better off without you' and 'Say this with me/ We were born for this' are EXACTLY what I want to hear.

Paramore is the kind of thing that makes me really glad I'm here and in this grizzly situation, just so I can relate to the music and scream along to each song with a reason.

And if that's not a good reason to admire a person, I don't know what is.

So are you listening? So are you watching me?

Blighty

Let me allow me (in the words of the very wise Bill Bailey) to tell you about where I live...

Spending as much time on the internet as I do means I'm often asked this question upon signing up to somewhere new on the interwebs...

What's Britain like?

It's alright, y'know. It's err... you know. We've got Nectar Points,understatement, we're tough on slogans, tough on the causes of slogans. We have strong prevailing south-westerly winds, in fact, 52% of our year is overcast so as a nation we're infused with a wistful melancholy. However we remain a relentlessly chipper population prone to mild eccentricity, binge drinking and casual violence.

Breakfast is served seven till nine - not a minute later, or you will be cast out. We have no natural predators, though a badger can give you a nasty nip... Four hedgehogs feeding on honey might fall in your eyes. A wasp could fly in your mouth one summer's afternoon, sting your bottom lip, it swells right up and you phone the doctor saying 'nurr am waspeh herrr sterrr meeerrr lerrr', she thinks your a pervert, you get arrested, sent to a secret Mars penal colony, gain the support of the workers and throw off the shackles of oppression.

And on the up side, we've got Little Chefs, which were built many years ago on lay lines, and then roads just came in and connected them up.

---

So yes. If you can survive all that I'll meet you at customs.

We just won't be stopping at Little Chef.

My week in pictures.

Sunday - Me and Rach took my sister to the park where I fell in love with a horse (that horse was all kinds of awesome).



Monday - Me, Rach, Anna, Matt, Tilda and Emma (now to be called Lemon) went into town to discuss Whitby planning and to drink muchos wufta tea (fruit tea... Matt luuurves the fruit tea) before going to Borders (note: my favourite shop in the known universe) and sitting on the window ledge, waving to people on the street and trying to get waved at in return.



Wednesday - Said goodbye to Rach and took her to the station where she boarded THE GHOST TRAIN. Met the Urban Family in town at three o'clock and we went to Stonebow to catch our bus. The bus drivers were extremely mardy, the first over-charged and lectured Anna for no reason with no right and the second drove away with Emma and Tilda still on the bus, they both fell down the stairs with their suitcases and he shouted at them when it was HIS fault for not checking! What a douche!



Thursday - In the morning we (the Urban Family) went to the beach and climbed around there(Matt practically scaled a cliff). Then we went into the town and ate chocolate and fudge and things before going back home... After muchos blogging and eating yummy Anna-made soup we filmed a video of Emma, Tilda and Matt dying of the Plague for Anna's school work. Then we went out again for food, walking on the pier and climbing up the 199 to Dracula's Castle/the church. Went home and played charades with Evan on the webcam before going to bed.



Friday - After staying up very late to hear a bedtime story about a dog who fell in love with a flea (I'm not even going to begin trying to count the flaws in that relationship) we woke up and got ready to leave. Matt copied a recording of Twilight onto my laptop (which I have since deleted... Sorry to waste your time Matt) and then we got on the bus going home. When we arrived in York I was very happy to see this welcoming us home.



Further proof that I live in a shit-hole. Who needs roads, just follow your nose!

(I jest... I love York, even if it is a mindnumbingly boring place to live.)

Nicole: Oh so loved...

I did this with all the Urban Family (am currently in Whitby with them...) today and it just showed how much I'm loved...

---

Dear Nicole,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but I'm in love with your sister. I think I realized it when we saw the shrunken head At the Hare Krishna graduation and I saw you pour syrup on Bill Clinton.

I'm sure you're scarred enough to understand that I get turned on by garbage men. I'm returning your ring to you, but I'll keep your collection of butterflies as a memory.

You should also know that I never liked Oprah Winfrey imitations.

Fuck off, Tilda.

---

Dear Nicole,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but our affair is over. I think I realized it that night at the mental hospital and I saw you knock out my father.

I'm sure you're senile enough to understand that I had a sex change. I'm returning the memories in the military service to you, but I'll keep some of your photos as a memory.

You should also know that I told in my confession today about the apartment building.

Your everlasting enemy, Anna.

---

Dear Nicole,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but you're a pervert. I think I realized it when I threw up at the Hare Krishna graduation and I saw you insult the crazy monk.

I'm sure you're emotional enough to understand how boring. I'm returning the memories in the military service to you, but I'll keep your neighbour Martin as a memory.

You should also know that I always will remember Oprah Winfrey imitations.

Disgusting regards, Emma.

---

Dear Nicole,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but I dislike you. I think I realized it when you put cuffs on me in your closet and I saw you looking at my avocado plant.

I'm sure you're cowardly enough to understand that Extreme Home Makeover sucks. I'm returning your ring to you, but I'll keep your suicide note as a memory.

You should also know that I never will forget eggplant fetishism.

Fuck off, Matt.

---

This really puts my life into perspective.

All we know is falling.

Sorry I'm being a bit slack with the posts right now. Other than the internet crapping out at every opportunity it sees, I'm also busy sorting other stuff out such as the house and my social life.

Oh yes, and my grandma is dying.

I feel bad saying it just like that. And I feel worse when I see how cut up Mum is and wonder why on Earth I'm not sobbing my heart out.

But I'm not.

I'm too tired. That's the worst thing.

Yesterday was a great day. I took Rach into town to meet with the Urban Family and we spent most of our time in the train station drinking coffee, fruit tea, coke or hot chocolate and eating chocolate tiffin (what a word!) and muffins (om nom nom). We walked by the river and crossed over on the train bridge. That in itself was a near disaster (don't argue Matt, just accept it, it WAS).

Me: Ummm... What do we do if a train comes?
Matt: We'll hear it, the track'll start squealing.
*pause*
Me: What's that noise?
Matt: It's a train. It'll stop at the statio-
Me: RUUUN!!!

I'm going back to Whitby with the Urbans tomorrow which'll be fab, but Rach is going home, which is not so much.

We're not sure how that's going to be arranged at the moment because we have no idea if Mum will be up to driving, or even if Grandma will still be with us. So yeah.

But anyway. I've been sat in my room on my own for just that little bit too long now so I'm gonna go.

Auf Wiedersehen.

If.

Today I went to the park with Rach and Cleo.

It was nice. We stayed there for a while, Cleo was playing and it wasn't too cold for once.

We started to walk back home next to the river. We stopped at a traffic light and we waited... And we waited...

Then a very nice looking boy comes along, stops at the traffic light and waits.

And then?

He smiled at me.

Me!!

It was a nice smile.

The light turned green and we all crossed the road. I looked around to see that he wasn't near us. He was going the other way.

Gah!!!

A tiny part of me wanted to follow him - to see who he was and why he smiled at me. But I didn't.

I spent the next couple of hours complaining about it, going on three simultaneous chocolate binges and thinking about it before giving up on thinking altogether.

But now I'm kicking myself.

If I had followed him, or said hello to him, what would have happened then?

If I kicked the habit of being shy right there and then, would he have been friends or something?

Well, would we?

I, for one, don't know.

But I still want to know.

If I stopped being such a lame, shy, socially inept person, who would I be? Better or worse.

Ugh.

---

And this, dear reader, is further proof of how St. V's day fugs with my head.

Things I did on QuirkySingle Day

(Valentine's Day can get fugged)

Not much romantic about Valentine's Day really is there?

Oh? You don't agree?

Hmm...

Ah, yes, I see why. I haven't told you how I spend Valentine's Day.

1. Wake up too late, probably ill from something consumed the night before.

2. Lie in bed and contemplate the positives of being single.

3. Give up quickly and read a book, probably a romance where Everybody Dies Alone.

4. Have all-out pig-out in the kitchen. Raid all cupboards. Leave no scone unturned.

5. Feel sorry for self for having eaten too much.

6. Recieve present from my mum.

7. Think of different ways to lie about how I recieved it.

8. Stay up too late on MSN talking to other bored singletons.

9. vow to get a boyfriend so this ritual is never repeated (this won't happen).

10. Go to bed congratulating myself for having survived another year of spinsterhood.

[11. Try to block out the sound of my neighbours.]

---

Today was a little bit different. I forgot me for the day. I cleaned out my grandma's house and broke all the ice in the garden. I went to pick up Rach and we ate ice cream and watched a fantabulous film called August Rush. We ate a tri-lingual meal (Italian, Indian and Chinese food all on a plate is NOT advised) and she went on MSN whilst I did some homework (the goddamn laptop's internet refused to work on the one night a year that I have a real reason to complain about life). I went to bed and dreamed about Rob Pattinson. I woke up when Rach's phone made a bid for freedom and landed on her head.

I stopped thinking about me.

And it made me happy on what is - for me - the single most depressing and belittling day of the year.

And so I guess this is a good thing.

I'm everywhere.

Me and Tabs have started up a joint blog.

Be afraid.

The Senses vs. Memories

[I have no tales of me-ness today. I didn't calculate exactly how exhausted I was and crashed on the sofa when I got home. Am now exhausted. So here is something I came up with last night, and tomorrow Rach will be here for our two-year celebration (it's two years tomorrow since we first met IRL). Enjoy!]

The Senses vs. Memories

You know how you relate different sights, sounds and smells to different places or times?

Yes? No?

Well I do. I have a fabulous memory, it's one of the things I pride myself on.

The smell of this shampoo reminds me of Berlin.



It reminds me of this place consistantly. The 5am wake-up calls, and early morning showeres. There were four of us in that hotel room. One had pneumatic boobs - one false move on her part and she could break you. If she wants you to get in that shower, you will get in that shower.

The feel of this reminds me of Nightwish.



When I saw Nightwish with Rach last year I bought a flag and it stayed in my bed with me for days after. It was nice and silky so the feeling of silk always reminds me of Nightwish with Rach '08.

The sight of this forsaken spit of land does a little more that send shivvers down my spine.



This is The Royal York Hotel where I used to work. It reminds me of one thing and one thing only: Twilight. I was having a really hard time at the hotel when Twilight showed up. It gave me an escape I desperately needed.

When I taste this I think 'THREE CHEERS FOR BOTTLED HAPPINESS!'.



Chocomel! I love it. Sadly you can only find it in continental Europe and so I have only ever had it twice, and in two places - The Netherlands and Germany. Both places hold fabulous memories of either Within Temptation (The Netherlands) or Berlin '08 (Germany). Ahhh... Chocomel... How I adore thee...

When I hear my alarm I genuinely want to do this.



My alarm. It incites a real sense of fear in me. Ugh. It took me five years to pluck up the courage to change it. I was THAT fearful of my phone.

---

And just like that, there's at least five minutes of you're life that you won't get back.

I feel powerful.

Note to Jassie: Your ass belongs to the mafia. [apparently]

I found this pretty hilarious...

Basically, you fill in this letter with the right numbers and whatnot and address it to the person who tagged you, then you tag someone else to do it.

---

Dear (the last person who TAG you),

I don't really know how to tell you this, but (1). I think I realized it (2) (3) and I saw you (4) (5).
I'm sure you're (6) enough to understand (7). I'm returning (8) to you, but I'll keep (9) as a memory.
You should also know that I (10) (11).

(12), Your name.

1. What's the colour of your shirt?
Blue - Our romance is over
Red - Our affair is over
White - I really like you
Black - I dislike you
Brown - The mafia wants you
Green - Our horoscopes don't .
match
Grey - You're a pervert
Yellow - I'm selling myself
Pink - Your nostrils are insulting
No shirt - You're a loser
Other - I'm in love with your sister

2. Which is your birth month?
January - That night
February - When your dog ran amok
April - When I tripped on sesame seeds
May - First of May
June - When you put cuffs on me
July - When I threw up
August - When I saw the shrunken head
September - When we skinny dipped
October - When I quoted Santa
November - Last year
December - When I changed tennis shoes

3. Which food do you prefer?
Tacos - In your apartment
Pizza - At the park
Hamburgers - Under the bus
Salad - As you ate enchilada
Pasta - Outside of Chicago
Chicken - In your closet
Kebab - With Paris Hilton
Fish - In women's clothing
Sandwiches - At the Hare Krishna graduation
Lasagna - At the mental hospital
Hot dog - Under a state of trance
None of the above - With George Bush and his wife

4. What's the colour of your socks?
Yellow - Hit on
Red - Insult
Black - Looking
Blue - Knock out
Purple - Pour syrup on
White - Carve your initials into
Grey - Pull the clothes off
Brown - Put leeches on
Orange - Castrate
Barefoot - Sit on
Pink - Pull the toupee off
Other - Drive out

5. What's the colour of your underwear?
Black - My best friend
White - My father
Grey - Bill Clinton
Brown - At me lovingly
Red - Donald Duck
Blue - My avocado plant
Yellow - My penpal in Iraq
Purple - My mustard souffle
Orange - My Kid Rock collection
Pink - Manchester United's goalkeeper
None - My John F. Kennedy statue
Other - The crazy monk

6. What do you prefer to watch on TV?
Scrubs - Man
O.C. - Emotional
One Tree Hill - Frostbitten
Heroes - Open
House - Scarred
Lost - High
Simpsons - Cowardly
The news - Mongolic
Idol - Masochistic
Family Guy - Senile
Top Model - Middle class

7. Your mood right now?
Happy - How happy i felt
Bored - That Santa doesn't exist
Sad - How boring you are
Angry - That your pimples are at the last stage
Depressed - That we're cousins
Excited - That there is no solution to this
Nervous - The middle east
Worried - That your Honda sucks
Apathetic - That I did a sex change
Ashamed - That I'm allergic to your hamster
Cuddly - That I get turned on by garbage men
Overjoyous - That I'm open
Other - That Extreme Home Makeover sucks
None of the above - Ashamed

8. What's the colour of your bedroom walls?
White - Your ring
Yellow - Your love letters
Red - Your Darth Vader poster
Black - Your tame stone
Blue - Your photos
Orange - Your false teeth
Brown - Your contact book
Green - The pictures from LA
Grey - Our matching Snoopy bibs
Purple - Your old lottery coupons
Pink - The cut toenails
Others - The memories in the military service

9. What is the first letter of your first name?
A/B - Your some of your photos
C/D - The oil stocks
E/F - Your neighbour Martin
G/H - My virginity
I/J - Results of your blood sample
K/L - Your left ear
M/N - Your suicide note
O/P - My common sense
Q/R - Your mom
S/T - Your collection of butterflies
U/V - Your criminal record
W/X - David's tricot outfits
Y/Z - Your grades from college

10. What is the last letter of your last name?
A/B - Will tell the authorities about
C/D - Never will forget
E/F - Always wanted to break
G/H - Never openly mocked
I/J - Always have felt dirty before
K/L - Will always will remember
M/N - Told in my confession today about
O/P - Was interviewed by the Times about
Q/R - Told my psychiatrist about
S/T - Get sick when I think of
U/V - Always will try to forget
W/X - Am better off without
Y/Z - Never liked

11. What do you prefer to drink?
Water - Our friendship
Beer - Senility
Soft drink - A new life as a clone
Soda - The moments we had together
Milk - The apartment building
Wine - Cocaine abuse
Cider - A passionate interest for mice
Juice - Oprah Winfrey imitations
Mineral water - Embarrassing rash
Hot chocolate - Eggplant fetishism
Whisky - To ruin the second World War
Other - To hate the Boston Celtics

12. To which country would you want to go on a vacation?
Thailand - Warm regards
USA - Best regards
England - Good luck on your short term leave from jail
Spain - Go and drown yourself
China - Disgusting regards
Germany - With ease
Japan - Go burn
Greece - Your everlasting enemy
Australia - Thanks for the memories
Egypt - Fuck off
France - In pain

---

So, here's my letter to Jassie.

Dear Jassie,

I don't really know how to tell you this, but the mafia wants you. I think I realized it first of May outside of Chicago and I saw you castrate Donald Duck.
I'm sure you're man enough to understand that there is no solution to this. I'm returning your ring to you, but I'll keep your suicide note as a memory.
You should also know that I never openly mocked eggplant fetishism.

Best regards, Nicole.

---

And for this I will tag... Matt!

Whilst I'm waiting for the heating to come on...

I'm still feeling a bit faint from this morning where I was sensationally rickrolled.

Cold. So cold.

I'm 70% sure that my feet are still there, but I'm not moving to check.

I took my Book Of Blog into school today, I had a good idea avec beaucoup de blog fodder, but I've forgotten the details of it.

Kind of defeats the object but I still have stuff to write about.

You know when your mind plays tricks on you?

Mine plays very special, cunning kinds of tricks. The one that goes 'haha, I'm going to give you some good ideas just before you go to bed so you have to stay awake and write it all down'. It's clever because it means that when I wake up too early the next morning more shit-faced than the guy who got his head stuck up a horses arse in Police Academy, my mind doesn't work, nor does it try to.

Cunning, see?

So yes. When I got to school this morning I could only remember that I had to ask people what they wanted to do in life once we escaped this hello-hole we find ourselves in.

At this point I need to remind you that the Urban Family are quite insane.

[Sadly I could only get hold of Emma, Anna and Tilda to help me do this]

I asked Anna first. Straight up she said 'I intend to have a family with lots of very attractive sons with fabulous names such as Felix, Virgil and Ichabod'. We later disproved this when we realised that with the apocalypse nigh and everything (*uck global warming, it's really doomsday approaching... No. I don't mean Valentine's Day), her sons would be little more than Sea Monkeys before she melted in hell/Globally Warmed Earth.

Emma? She wants to play Quidditch. I said here about Fulford's magical conversion to Hogwarts, and Emma took the next natural step. Now, Emma's a very interesting person. She wants to go to college (she went to her drama audition there yesterday, woop!), go to theatre school, and then be an actress on stage and be awesomer than she already is because Robert Pattinson is her hot, hot sex and she wants to play with his hair and more besides. ...Wait, who said that?!

The longest reply by far was Tilda's. I ran out of room on the page I was writing on trying to get it all down.

And so here we have it.

What Tilda wants from life

- Wooden, old, bay PVC windows
- A nice garden
- A strange quirky partner
- Lots of children (I've already offered her some of mine if she can't be arsed with the whole preggo thing)
- No gym membership
- A bike that she will use
- Keep dancing (dancing through liiife...)
- Lots of mirrors in her house to make it look bigger
- Mafia-style bookshelves that open into a secret study
- To perform on stage some more
- To work with people (not robots)
- For her parents to have a boat
- To keep living in England
- To be happy (nawww...)
- To be poor (wuh?)
- And much, much more, except I was so overwhelmed with happiness at the prospect of Tilda's future that I had to stop writing.

---

Me? Teaching, Seattle, my own vampire (or whatever).

C'est la vie...

This is the last time.

I am NEVER letting Cherry borrow my headphones again.

I've just been spectacularly rickrolled.

I- I'm not sure how I feel right now.

Fragile, maybe.

Welcome down to my planet hell.

Now. I blog A LOT about Stalag 14, and how much it sucks, but what do you know about Fulford School really? That it's awesome because I go there? That it's horrific because I suffer there?

Both are equally true. School sucks in the extreme, but in reality it is SO much more than that.

It's a prison. It's a liberated concentration camp. It's a hello-hole.

But they dress it up quite well. So kudos to Goebbels for that one (sorry for the Nazi references, I'll try to stop).

Fig. 1 - The 'Portakabins? Where?!' approach.



This is the A-Block. It's one of the newest blocks and it cost 4.4 million pounds. It's nice in a weird way.

HOWEVER.

Notice how the photo cuts off something?

See how it is just that little bit too thin?

It's got a secret, people.

Next to the A-block lies the B-block. The B-block is a derilect, cruddy, falling-down, shivers-down-your-spine-and-crows kind of place.

Fig. 2 - Our evil dictator.



This is him. No kidding.

Fig. 3 - The logo is outdated.



A wheatsheaf? I'M NOT A FARMER! You're just proving the Southerners right you know! (Southern England-dwellers traditionally think all Northerners are farmers)

A cross? My school of all places is a God-less, soul-less place. It's the most God-forsaken place I've ever set foot in. Why???!

A book? Half the people at Flufford can't read! Don't be stupid!

Fig. 4 - The motto lies.

'A Posse Ad Esse'? 'From possibility to realisation'? HA! What were they smoking that night? Every possibility I've been offered by the school has been screwed up in some way or another. It really should be 'A Esse Ad Posse Ad Nihilo' (yeah, I can do Latin, check me out). 'From realisation to possibility to nothing'.

Fig. 5 - This logo is SO much better.



And more accurate, besides.

[Dooce me, Fulford, I defy you.]

Different.

Being in a school environment everyday means I'm frequently subject to change.

Some things, small things, don't change. My friends are mostly the same group of people. My name is still Nicole Smith. I still buy my tomato-pasta-and-noodle-salad, low-fat chocolate milkshake and bog-standard biscuit for lunch every day. These things probably won't change until I finish school.

Big things though... I leave school this year. I turn sixteen this year too. But today we all got word of some news that caused absolute outrage.

Last year I posted about P. Daddy leaving my form to become our head of year. This upset me a lot. It still bothers me, because I now have an utterly incompetent form tutor who treats us like year sevens and is just plain stupid about everything.

Today we all got wind of news that they were changing all the forms next year. Instead of us being grouped by year, we'll be split up from our year and left with loads of other years as form groups. We'll have houses and it'll be shit.

I was so angry! Everyone is! It's crap. We year elevens (will be year twelve by then) will be stressed out as it is without having to share a goddamn form with some dithering year sevens or smarmy year tens. It's better to be around people who are going through the same stuff and can be related to.

Of course, the teachers won't have it. They are so hellbent on making Fulford a 'model school' that they have focused on statistics and forgotten all about the people behind them.

The teachers weren't allowed to tell us, but we found out anyway. They were threatened with the sack but we're not gonna grass the teacher who told us up, it's our business.

They are going to announce it officially tomorrow. I'll be the one selling rotten tomatoes in assembly, I'll make a fortune. Everyone's angry now, they'll want to throw stuff at the teachers.

I'm only reserving judgement on Sonic Jobson, P. Daddy, Poppy-man and Ms Brzozowska, because they, a) didn't deny it, and b) are too nice for me to be mad at (P. Daddy made Tilda a cup of tea today).

Grr. I don't like change.

This is the most depressing thing I have ever read.

*sigh*

Adios amigo.

I tried to stay away but it was snow use.

Guess where I am.

Yeah.

School.

I woke up this morning to A LOT of snow. I walked to school with Tilda -complaining all the way with Hannah about how school should be closed.

The short of the long of it is that I'm sat in fake-fake-fake-fake-form at break, after having been held in the room for an hour and a half, watching the blizzard outside and wondering why the hell we are still here.

Mutiny will begin soon.