Something like crazy.

Christicles. I am NEVER taking a night off from blogging again. It's taken me three hours to get through my blogroll.

Let me tell you that the last three days have been the peak of my fortnight off.

Wednesday: I saw Marley & Me. It's a great movie, it made me laugh like a loon. I zoned out towards the end though because I was too busy telling myself to 'stop crying you pansy' to pay attention to the last two minutes.

Yesterday I lost my pride from 6.5 feet in the air.

Do witness...



And Tilda somehow still managed to label me as 'graceful' or some such nonsense.

But it doesn't matter too much because I found out that I was a god of some sort.



Well I can see the resemblance, anyways.

(Also, that man has tiny junk.)

(Just thought I'd point it out.)

(Because he certainly isn't going to.)

(Hmm... Maybe God is pointing it out, and the man just misinterpreted the body language - I hear men are good at that.)

(Anyway, Anna has much bigger balls than me... Maybe.)

But I think I digressed.

Friday was traumatic... After having breakfast tragically cut short by my mother's horrendously good timing, I was whisked away to my SIL's house where it was announced that I would be the 'model' in my mum's new campaign.

Please note that this was a teenage parents campaign.

I already knew I'd be made to do it, but this was crippling to my ego.

I was handed Rhiley (baby nephew) and suddenly I was staggeringly grateful that my 25-year-old brother wasn't there. Now that would have been painful.

So the photographer bloke* arrived with one of those HUUUGE cameras that are made to scare the model stiff and my mum started teaming up with him and saying 'Oh, Nicky, we don't want to see your face for this, pull your hair down'.

Queue the mother of all disparaging looks.

My SIL was fabulous as always, making sure Rhiley kept laughing and smiling ('The baby needs to look happy.' The cameraman said. 'The mother needs to look stressed and tired.') and I just sat pretty and felt my mental age - somewhere in the mid-forties.

It was over in ten minutes, but BELIEVE ME they were the longest ten minutes of my life.

In other news Hitler my drama teacher has called rehearsals after school next Wednesday. No doubt I'll have tales of utter joy to tell then.

[* The photographer bloke was actually really nice even though this is all EXACTLY what happened, I'm just being an arrogant bitch here.]