Tough because usually I don't give a damn.

Alors... I'm jumping on the bandwagon for NaBloPoMo this December.

QUOI?! You all say? I don't blame you. I'm terrible at being consistant with this blog these days. I'm a terrible mother, I get it.

Anyhoodle, the theme for December is MITZVAH, and which I'm pretty sure is a Jewish celebration of some sort but apparently it means giving, too. This is kinda a good topic for me because I'm pretty generous (or I think so, anyway) when I can afford to be, and sometimes when I can't, which leads to muchos trouble with my mother, and by that I mean that she breaks me.

Tsk. The things I do for humanity.

Also it's Christmas or something like that this month so I'll be giving pretty much all month.

And also my job includes giving out items to the good shoppers of Argos.

Ha. I've got this thing bagged.

See you-all tomorrow.

It's beginning to smell a lot like Christmas...

So yesterday I was suckered into babysitting my brother's kids. Go me.

I actually love my brother's kids. Kelsi, Eboni and Rhiley are perhaps the funniest kids of their age (6, 4 and 1 respectively) I've ever met. Kelsi is loopy, shy-but-loud and giggly, Eboni is absolutely feral and cheeky and Rhiley is just quirky and hosts some of the best facial expressions everrr.



(Eboni [3, now 4] Rhiley [0, now 1] Kelsi [5, now 6] - I don't know what Rhiley is wearing here. It was his Christening [not my idea, or anyone elses, it just happened one day] but I think he looks like the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters)

I had the ingenius idea of buying Eboni some Sea Monkeys for her birthday last week, but according to Kelsi and her shiny new pink DS Lite, Father Christmas has already been this year.

I look at my brother, then shake my head. He does these things in style. He left Kelsi an I.O.U from the tooth fairy.

Anyhoo, babysitting my nieces/nephew always starts out the same. Eboni and especially Kelsi scream and shout "Nicoooooooooole!" when they see me, waking Rhiley up, before my brother, Golden Balls, and sister-in-law go out. I'm then stuck with three kids, two of which are bouncing off the ways, one of which would be if he could walk.

The only difference in the first five minutes was that my SIL poked her head through the window and said "By the way, Rhiley's been eating prunes. See ya!" before I'm left with a baby who is now growling and visibly straining.

Oh. Dear. God.

Cue slight hysteria, with me begging Rhiley to keep his nappy clean and Kelsi and Eboni shouting about the smell.

Crap. Literally.

"He'll, ah, be okay, I think..." I say to the girls, who are now dragging my laptop out of my bag and trying to set up some music (Eboni is convinced it has a touch screen, dun dun duuunnn...) before ABBA starts blasting out and the girls start dancing to Mamma Mia like only small, hyper kids can.

"Dance, Nicole! Dance!" Three minutes later I'm caught up trying to keep both girls happy, because one sulks if I dance with the other for two long.

Half an hour later all I'm hearing is "Dance monkey, dance!" and Rhiley is growling again. Joy.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes and say "Kelsi: Wipes, nappy. Eboni: Find the changing mat." They're off like a shot. Rhiley is grinning up at me with an air of triumph. I look down at him, biting my lip. This is going to be horrible.

The girls come back, place all the stuff on the floor and try to get Rhiley to lie down. He won't.

"Pleaaaase, Rhiley!" The girls say. He wriggles and whines.

"Be careful he doesn't wee in your face, Nicole." Kelsi chimes in quietly.

"...Thanks Kelsi."

Eventually I decide I'm going to try and change him sitting up. I spin him round, then turn around to grab a nappy. I turn to find him with his back to me again. I turn him round again, he shuffles back round. It goes on like this for a solid two minutes, with the girls cackling hysterically. Eventually I manage to get his nappy off, and straight away he puts his foot in it. Before I can say "wolverines" he's stuck his hand in it and the smell is just cruel. "Nooooo..." I croon. "You pain in the arse."

"Ohmmm! You said 'arse'!" Kelsi chimes.

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No, you did."

"Only because you did."

"Yeah, but you did."

I sit there, up to my eyes in baby crap with a baby who is now smearing the fucking floor with poop whilst arguing over whosaidwhat with a six year old and then...

"No, Kelsi, I said farce which means like trouble, you kno-OH MY GOD!"

Rhiley is now sat in a puddle of pee, as well as poo.

"How does your dad make it look so easy?!" I whine. Eboni shrugs.

I sigh. Fine, then. Eboni gets me a towel and Kelsi starts mopping up the mess, whilst I struggle on with Rhiley until I finally get him dressed.

After the whole episode I get the girls some cookies, show them that the Sea Monkeys have hatched ("But they don't look like monkeys!") and send them off to bed before sitting Rhiley in his cot. He starts giggling like a maniac.

"Oi, you're meant to be going to sleep, mister." I say, tucking him, still giggling, in.

After a while I decide he'll eventually wear himself out, so I go out and close the door. The giggling stops immediately.

I consider opening the door to see if he'll start up again but then decide that no, actually I need a cold shower and my good friend Stella (Artois).

No one can say I didn't try.

Me and my sister do not get along by any stretch of the imagination. People used to despair over this, but now it's just a source of amusement. I find it vaguely hilarious and then acutely depressing.

My sister Cleo is, in my opinion, a spoilt, attention-seeking, idiotic, whiney, pathetic, dirty, hateful, egotistical hypochondriac. She is also very, very annoying and generally an unnecessary person (go figure).

To her, I'm probably a nerdy, bookish, mean asshole.

It's probably worth pointing out that I am a nerdy, bookish, mean asshole.

At any rate, we don't get along. She's a terrible person in my eyes, I'm an unsupportive clam in hers, it's a long since done deal. My mum loves nothing better to blame me for the way Cleo turned out, and that does nothing to help our relationship at all. There is no understanding between me and my sister. She doesn't like music, it's the climate I live in, she likes to talk about herself to anyone who will listen (and those who won't) whilst I prefer to keep quiet, she has no sense of humour, I find everything funny, she'll make herself out to be a victim ALL THE TIME, I'll find her kicking the ever-loving shit out of some poor kid when I pick her up from school. The girl is a terrible human being.

Though I know that I'm no better. I know that I'm terrible to her, just by the way that I ignore her. But I have to. She doesn't bring out any good side in me, and I don't feel good around her, or around home, so I block her out along with everything. I'm a terrible sister to her. I get this.

We share a bedroom, which is separated by two wardrobes and a few pieces of cardboard that I nabbed from the council. Since she discovered that I can't sleep with the light on, she's been 'scared' of the dark and has had the hall light on all the time. I can't sleep, making me grouchy and tired and generally very hateful towards her, and then my mum for being so blinkered. Even my brother, who can sleep through any situation, complained about the light getting into my room when he crashed on the floor.

Sometimes I get so frustrated with her and everyone that I just walk out. I usually get into trouble which never helps, but I need the space that I don't get at home.

But I do try sometimes. I'll take her out into town, alone or occasionally with my friends (usually with BFF Main Gay.5 because she's a massive homophobe and must learn). I'll write up lists of songs she might like to burn to a CD, but then she'll do something that pisses me off and I'll tear them up. I might find a film or a book she'll like but then she ruins them. It always ends the same.

I said I'd take her to the cinema this weekend, which I think will be good for her. I like taking Cleo to different places, mostly because she's less of a shit when she's on her own, and I'm feeling more forgiving. I'm dragging BFF Main Gay.5, Cherry, Lemon and Anner and Mo-Balls with me too (I have strange names for my friends... I know. Though Cherry is actually Cherry's real name) if they're not busy. Work, school and hours of blogs, books and music aside, I'm the only one who isn't perpetually busy. I spend a lot of time rotting away at home, and I think we all know the amount of good that does me (hint: it begins with Z- and ends with -ERO).

I get tired of people saying I don't make and effort with things, because it's not true, at least not to me. I'm so exhausted with all these little things that if I've done something, it seems like an effort to me.

If, as I hope, I leave home in a few years, go onto better things and things at home go wrong, no one can blame me anymore. No one can say I didn't try, because I've been trying all along, in my own way. They just have to accept that.

The hand of frog is collecting your items.

I have never laughed so hard at a newspaper as I did this morning:

THE HAND OF FROG

God bless Thierry Henry and all who sail in him. (Though, seriously... It's FOOTball, not HANDball, son.) In case you missed it there's been a big controversy with Thierry Henry (Ex-Arsenal[YEAH!], now playing for Argentina) hitting a ball with his hand when playing against the Irish in football. D'oh.

There's lots going on in he blogging world at the moment, isn't there? Crissy's Big Pussy introduced us to a mouse that looked like it'd seen the inside of hell, Andy started dating a (lovely) French guy, Jay's beard is preparing to undergo a FIERCE transformation (Mutton chops? Please?) and Jassie graduated.

Phwoar. Busy busy busy.

Me? I've been working.

This is actually very cunning timing on my part. I chose my hours based upon when I was most likely to go apeshit with my mum's money and go see New Moon a million times like I did with Twilight, and so when everyone else was out watching awesome hair being all emo-ish, I was picking tickets at Argos.

Sounds thrilling, no? No sarcasm: it actually WAS awesome. I have my own locker and badge and shirt and ID and everything.

I spent last time learning the layout of the warehouse and scaling the dizzy heights to get top shelf items (I instantly hate orders that require me to go to the top shelf at any time - it's 15ft high) and generally had a great time just doing stuff. This morning I went in and worked on collection, which is amazing because when 30-part orders come through we all congregate, get tickets and then bolt in different directions. Awesome.

The best moment had to be last night when we were tidying up the stockroom, and I was putting away ladders. One was huge and didn't have a second set of wheels so I went to let it stand, it fell, I tried to grab it, got dragged down and landed with THE LOUDEST CRASH I've ever caused:

Me: Shi-ouch... Erm. WHUPS!

Person: *across the storeroom* You okay?!

Me: Yeah... Where do I put the big ladders?

Person: Just on the floor will do.

Me: Ahh ok. That's where it landed.

Person: Umm... where are you?

Me: Under it.

Excellent moment in my own personal history, truly.

I'm working again tomorrow, which is great because you get paid half again on Sundays, and then me and Lemon are going to see New Moon, because Lemon is my amazing Twilight buddy who doesn't do anything dickish whilst the film's running, unlike SOME people. *cough, cough*BFF Main Gay.5*cough*

Sadly - or not - I haven't had chance to do any homework this weekend, but hey, at least I'm not bored.

Let meeeeeme entertain you. (do, do, doo...)

Well well. I wrote in my planner of undisguised awesome (everyone else's are black and gold, mine's black and green with two holes in the front - yeah!!) that I was going to write a blog tonight, but honestly? I'm dying a little bit this week, so I'm going to reply to a thing Jassie tagged me on Facebook because hell if I'm not tired.

25 Things But I'm gonna pretend my finger slipped so now it's just "15 Things"

(If you can't be arsed with this, just scroll to the bottom where there is a picture of something I discovered this week which was just... SOUL SHAKING...)

1. Actually, I can't think of anything. Let's make it 10 Things.

2. I'm in love with really simple stuff. Sleep, authentic Coca Cola, a bar of Galaxy chocolate and a decent film is all I need to recover from the world's worst week, month, decade.

3. The smell of my parents' farts makes me cry. They fart depression. I lose my faith in humanity for a good couple of hours.

4. I'm the world champion of the card game Spit. Ditto Snap.

5. I once conspired to get into America by marrying my half-American friend. Didn't work and now I have no grounds on which I can apply for a visa. Daym.

6. My brother used to handcuff me to our balcony and shoot me with a BB gun. My parents confiscated both and I haven't seen either item since. Good, character-building stuff.

7. I taught my nephew to say 'asssshoooooole' a la Meet The Fockers because my brother had already taught him to say 'Arse-nool', after Arsenal, our favourite team.

8. I'm unusually awesome at baseball on WiiSport. I have stamina and a stammer (only a little one).

9. I use the words 'chebly', 'lober' and 'meathead' way too much, even if they aren't actual words. My friends are strange and wonderful beings...

10. I have a crippling fear of spiders that covers cuddly, fluffy toys that vaguely resemble spiders. The word 'spider' makes me feel ill. I have arachnophobia of the nth degree.

Oooeeeefff. Effort. It burns.

And now... This here Tuesday I was a-mindin' my own business, playing chess and the sort, when I looked down to discover something... epic.

Behold...



I think we've all come to the same conclusion...

Jesus is coming. Hide the pawn.

I best be on my way now.

Lately I've been bogged down under everyone else's problems.

My parents still fight and argue all the time. My mum has become a raving feminist, blaming men for EVERYTHING and trying to drag me down into her little celibate lesbian club for one (that's what she named herself) which as of yet has been and will remain an unsuccessful gambit. My dad keeps to himself as he always has (we do not have much of a relationship, or any relationship, come to think of it) and goes off to be with other people and all that crap. Sucks. I can't leave the house for more than ten minutes with my parents together without them exploding into arguments and my sister hiding in my bedroom.

My brother's marriage fell flat last week. He can't see his kids or his wife and this time he didn't actually do anything. He's been pretty much inconsolable since then. I had to go sit with him at my grandma's house yesterday, only to find him hugging a cushion in the foetal position and not eating/drinking/saying anything. Last night I was told I might have to take his place and go to Paris for Christmas with my sister-in-law and the kids, but I don't want to because he was so looking forward to having Christmas with the kids again.

My sister is a relentless shithead who goes out of her way to make me feel awful.

I have a stupidly little amount of money, meaning I miss out on school books, extra reading stuff and occasionally my lunch.

School is difficult, the workload is too much and I have no motivation to do anything. I'd happily drop out.

Everyone makes out that I've got it easy.

I appear to have adopted the status of 'taker of shit'. They don't seem to realise that I cannot deal with their crap. I have my own crap and it is great and bountiful. I've got things I want to do, places I want to be and things I want to try, and I cannot do any of that when I'm scared to leave the house, never mind the country, in case something goes wrong.

And apparently I don't even have to leave the house now. My sister-in-law called to say my brother is sat on the side of the motorway threatening to jump in front of a car. Stupid twonk. (He wouldn't do that)

Ohh, the drama.

So forgive me if I'm ranting, which I am, and forgive me if I'm being selfish, but I cannot deal with everyone else's crises right now.

Just call me Harry Potter.

I woke feeling weird this morning. Wide awake, nothing in my head, comfy. Not usual things for me. I checked the clock... 7.19am. I closed my eyes and settled back down again.

And about two minutes later my eyes flew open again.

First day at work today getthefuckoutofbedfuckshitcrappissandbollocks...

I'm a tad neurotic first thing on a morning.

At any rate, I ended up being twenty minutes early. If I knew I was being paid today I would've gone straight to the store, but instead I headed to McDonald's were I had the shock of my life...

"Hey, a small fries please?"

"Umm... We don't have any fries."

Since when have McDonald's not had any fries!?

*hyperventilating* "What... the hell... happened?"

"We're on the breakfast menu at the moment."

Oh. OH!

Whew. Almost had a moment there.

I got covered in grease and salt and walked into the store feeling pretty crumby. Apparently it didn't show.

Let me describe this particular store to you lovely American/Australian people. Basically, instead of having of having shelves of products on the shop floor and stuff, you have a big catalogue, and you choose what you want, pay for it and then suddenly, out of the tens of thousands of items that are hidden away - presumably in a hole in time and space - you receive your item. It's amazing.

It's like... one of the biggest mysteries of the modern world - it defies science. Probably.

Anyhoo, you have to imagine that all these items are stored somewhere. You can't just conjure these things out of thin air the way I thought they did for SO long it's embarrassing (up until I was about eight I thought this place was magical. Now I just think it's awesome).

Today, I came face-to-face with the single most daunting warehouse I have seen in my short history of seeing warehouses (though anything that looks like it requires effort is a daunting prospect to me).

Have you seen Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire, where they're in the maze?



To my mind, that was EXACTLY what it was.

Sadly I don't think vines are going to start shooting out of the shelves and rip Rob Pattinson's clothes off, though for a moment there I could've sworn it was about to happen.

Anyhoo, I snacked on muffins and cookies whilst watching videos about how to deal with fires (apparently "run the other way" isn't quite right) and violent customers (ditto "sock 'em one") and then I went on my way.

Awesome, easy day of non-work with funny people that I get paid for.

I love this place.

There is, sadly, one little detail that renders this post bittersweet...

I may have signed up to work hours next week that totally wipe out any plans to go see N-N-N-New Moon on Friday or Saturday.

So it'll be Sunday before I get to see it. That's crap. That's two days after it'll be released. When Twilight came out in cinemas, I'd seen in three times before the third day of release.

This will not do.

Anyways, I've got it planned to go with the lovely Lemon, who I have already dubbed as an ah-may-zing Twilight cinema buddy, and we will be great.

I'm totally wearing my Twilight t-shirt next week. (Oh yeah, I have one of those = SAD)

I'm thirsty.

Sometimes on a Wednesday we all have to cram into the common room (it was built for about 70, not 300) and sit through being lectured about litter or behaviour or grade targets. Today we went one better - ALCOHOL AWARENESS.

Within about five minutes I was able to say that no one was more aware than me that I was sober.

I won't go into it, but highlights included THE ULTIMATE HANGOVER CURE (turns out it was just time - cop out), Connor (awesome and raging drinker) passing out with a resounding slap on the floor, and making fake wine out of red food colouring and water (I know your game, lady, and I don't like it...).

I went to psychology feeling somewhat thirsty. And hungry. After the lesson I took off to Big Bite which is just THE place to be if you want awesome meat-based food (I lasted less than a week in that place before I stopped being a vegetarian), and on the way back I was a-happily munching on my sandwich when suddenly a big brown splodge appeared on my jacket.

No. Way.

After years, years of tormenting and/or dodging seagulls I had finally been singled out and poops away...!

I spent the rest of the day with my jacket doubled over to hide the big poo stain and trying not to breathe through my nose.



That bird's feathery little butt is mine.

When I grow up, I'll fly to the shops on LSD.

So today I was at my grandma's house for Sunday dinner. Sunday dinner is pretty much a boring affair up until the actual eating comes around, so to kill some time I took off to the local shop which I was convinced was just around the corner.

Please note: I have known this area of York all my life and there is not a snowball's chance in hell that I could get lost.

I got lost.

Somewhere along the way, the roads looked the same, I took a wrong turn and ended up back at my grandma's house, crouching in the bushes because I'm far too proud to admit that I'm wrong.

So I took off again.

TWO HOURS LATER, I returned with the damned bottle of coke. And when I found the place, it turned out that truly, it was around several corners.

I got back to base, hobbling in my stupid bloody boots (I'm usually just a trainers and jeans person) with half a two-litre bottle of coke left.

Then whilst watching The Wizard Of Oz, my grandma and me started arguing over whether poppies contained opium or heroin before she announced she'd spent a good part of her life stoned off her tits (ironically, she has none anymore, two strikes of breast cancer) on LSD.

I dived on this information. I'm kinda obsessed with acid.

The long of the short of it is she took tons of acid with my auntie (pretty much every picture I have of this aunt involved her holding spliff, she's so amazing...), was attacked by a vacuum cleaner before being strangled by a turkey, and after that she turned to softer things like vodka and rum.

Happy days.

And then my other aunt and Lil AB arrived and the whole day went to pot.

Lil AB has gone from being a lovely sleepy puppy to an absolute hell hound in the space of about two weeks. He destroyed a broom, ate all the toilet paper and peed all over the kitchen whilst we were eating, and then my sister went arse over tea kettle when he ran under her feet. He's staying with us at Christmas, I actually cannot wait to see him causing hell around our house.

Christmas will be interesting.

Sparks Fly Out

There be an olde English saying around these parts:

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Pat McGarry ran out of pot.

Or something like that.

It's more or less Bonfire Night today. It's one of two nights a year that the UK get to piss around with fireworks and invariably, someone dies as a result. Insane, I know, but it's good practice for nuclear fallout, which, here in York, we're pretty sure is going to happen because there are not one, but TWO American early warning bases on either side of York out in the country. So if the martians invade, York'll be the first to go.

Thanks a lot, assholes.

AnyArmageddon, Bonfire Night is pretty much the same for me every year.

1. I stumble around a very smokey York

2. I go to a pub, cram in with the masses around a bonfire, get choked out by sulphur fumes and wood smoke and get some form of alcohol spilt on me.

3. Have flashbacks of 'Nam triggered by the constant fireworks.

4. Grab a takeaway and head home.

5. Get no sleep because someone has torched a car near my house (It's a ritual. People who live on my street/estate watch out for cars that haven't moved in a month or two, and then torch it. It was an old white Ford Escort last year. NOTE: I had nothing to do with the torching of the car) and the fireworks will not. stop. banging.

---

It's a great night out.

Sadly the smoke from the fireworks always makes me ill. Last year I was ill for a month (ever-so-conveniently causing me to miss my mock exams), and the year before that I was ill for two weeks. It's never good. I've just shaken off one cold, and odds are I'll get another one, which sucks cuz I'm working next week.

I feel weirdly powerful, being able to say that.

WORK, suckahs!

And the odds are that I'm the last person to get a job. Good lord I'm sad.

In other news I spent the better part of an hour playing snap with Anna Ross today. Think of Anna Ross as like... the brother from Napoleon Dynamite, or something. Only more kick-ass. She also does karate.

Tip: Never play snap with someone who is liable to karate chop your hand when you tell "SNAP!"

If I ever find my hands it'll be a bloody miracle.

A post about a series of random events strung together by the telling of the aforementioned random events.

There's something truly horrendous about the first day back at school. There's the obvious work factor, then the whole no-sleep thing, and then the 'we don't need no education, fongool' trip. The way the first bell makes your face squinch up with revulsion and then you go to your lesson and OH MY FUCK, homework?! What fresh hell is this?

Everything's amplified. The bus ride to school seems louder and shorter, the common room seems busier, the teachers seem moodier, the lower years are even more in-the-middle-of-the-goshdarn-corridor-assholes that usual and you look around and wonder how the hell you lasted five years in this place, no matter about the next two.

Free periods are boring, because you haven't got anything to do or anyone to talk to, and you end up making random lists to pass the time (I'm a sucker for lists).

11.40am

Things that would be more interesting than what I am doing now (nothing):

- Chasing stray cats

- Examining rocks

- Sticking labels to my forehead

- Throwing tomatoes at the dramatic ponce across the room from me when he winds up his monologue... any time now...

- Spying for the enemy

- Apologising for all the shit I otherwise got away with

- Smuggling crack

- Heart attack

- Spontaneous dancing

- Spontaneous applause

- Spontaneous combustion

- Finding out where Amarillo is

- Respiratory arrest

- Nuclear warfare

- Being held random by a band of Tasmanian bandits

- Fire alarm

- Reading that book that I totally hate but have to study for English and goddamnit I've forgotten it even though I have English twice today, nice work asshole

- Bringing a llama to school

11.50am

Most awesome moments of last week

- 3 y.o. niece informing my brother that the song was NOT 'socks on fire'.

- Finally teaching 1 y.o. nephew to say 'ass...hooooooole' a la Meet The Fockers

- Strutting around a village in the dark wearing BFF Main Gay.5's boxers

- Finding a drunk video on my camera of me telling my sister she sounded like 'REDNEX on crack'

- Gourmet burger bar with the epic 6-inch high burger

- Buying the True Blood box set

---

So basically today was the single most boring day e-v-e-r, and I trudged home giving evils to everything (I think I scared a car, yes, a car - it started screaming and everything) before being DUTCH SAUNA'ED whilst in the shower (think of this as a dutch oven only in a steamy room, I can't even begin to describe how much worse it is...) and finally collapsing on my bed and falling straight through it.

It's the kind of day where I want to elongate everything liiiiiike thiiiiiiis...

It suuuuuuuucks... It's craaaaaaaap. Shiiiiiiitty. Like that.

And then, AND THEN! I got a call... A very mysterious call.

And then I got a job.

So now I work at Argos, one of the great mysteries of the world. "You punch in some numbers, then they go through the door, and beyond that door is... everything..."

Argos is a magical place of hope and wonder, y'all.

So, to summarise: I have a job, I find smuggling crack to be a rewarding career and life, school and everything is just a series of random, crushing, grinding disappointments.

Awesome.