Shiny happy emptyhead

Five hours of being Smiley Cashier this morning has left me with bugger-all to write.

"I'd like to return this?"

"What is it?"

"Sellotape."

REALLY?!

Also,we have an offer on this weekend that involves fuckloads of gift vouchers, so my mind was BLOWN when I signed on to the tills at 9am and handed out nearly £200-worth of vouchers within the space of 10 minutes.

I also walked to the hospital in a blizzard, only to be sent halfway across York (to The Groves, to be fair) to get her some damn orange juice and then fell over in the most theatrical way possible. Excellent work, Nicole.

I'm worn out today. I'll be back tomorrow with tales of God only knows what because I'm going around to my brother's house for the day.

Keep... breathing...

In other words, it's really fecking cold.

Allow me to demonstrate in pictures what the past 24 hours have been like...

Fig. 1


Fig. 2


Fig. 3


Fig. 4


Fig. 5

Fig. 1 - Yesterday's 'Oooh, snow! Bit cold isn't it?"
Fig. 2 - Walking home in the snow, blizzards and general bollock-freezing conditions.
Fig. 3 - Epic rigger boots that kept my feet uncharacteristically toasty. Sadly have no grip despite having steel toe caps, distressed leather and other signs of being HARDCORE. Being designed for oil rigs might also have given me the impression that they'd at least put up some defense against the snow, but NO, I fell flat on my arse twice instead.
Fig. 4 - Nearing school... Thought this was a pretty nice scene.
Fig. 5 - A side street near my house. Salters didn't bother to clear it so it was rather nice/horrendous to walk down.

And apparently it's going to get worse and carry on snowing until Monday.

Lemme just stress that it is FREEZING COLD, as in, MY HAIR FROZE TO MY HEAD THIS MORNING.

That bad.

I can't wait.

(In other news, I got my contract at work extended. Woop!)

On Christmas cheer.

York puts up the Christmas decorations at the end of October. Halloween mix-ups lead to a Zombie Santa knocking at my door for sweets once - excellent statement, kiddo.

Anyhoo, at school we wait until the 1st of December to put up the decorations, but I'm known to've been singing Christmas songs since early May (hey, Slade is timeless).

Tonight is the sixth form Christmas party (no booze = no fun = no Nicole present), and today we were all sat in the common room sticking Guns N' Roses posters and the like to the walls (go Year 13, go!) when very suddenly...

IT'S SNOWIIIIIING!

There was pause enough for everyone to stop what they were doing, pull up the blinds, turn down the music and look out of the window, and then a cheer went up.

People were dancing, pushing up all the blinds, wearing tinsel, hugging, cheering, and then the speakers threw out Mariah Carey like never before.

SNOW!

We don't get snow here much, but when we do it's a big deal. Especially in the lower school. We'd had a few flakes of sleet-ish stuff this morning and the year sevens went apeshit, but now? Actually flakes of white snow and stuff. I wasn't sure it'd settle but Will AWESOMEFACE Torgerson, our unofficial wrong-75%-of-the-time-and-so-still-kinda-reliable weatherman said that it'll snow through til 8am tomorrow. And then I got home to see the whole of Yorkshire is on a severe weather warning (CODE RED, WEAR A COAT - England stops for no snowman, big or small).

Another thing is that you always now it's Christmas in the UK if the Coca Cola advert has been on TV. There's a Facebook group for it as well. It's a BIG. DEAL. if the Coca Cola advert comes on.

However, one sure way to kill the Christmas spirit (somewhat literally) is as follows.

1. Make a chocolate Santa, rap it up in Santa-looking foil with a ribbon and bell around the waist.

2. Put a stonking great sticker on the bottom reading "WARNING: BELL AND RIBBON REPRESENT CHOKING HAZARD".

3. Leave poor customer wondering what part of Christmas choking to death symbolises.

4. Allow customer to weep over the realisation that it must be the number of cold turkey sandwich-related deaths each Christmas.

5. See to it that customer becomes disaffected and becomes a whole different level of cold turkey in time for Christmas.

Learn from Whittards' mistakes, people.

They said there'd be snow this Christmas...

An amazing thing happened today. I actually slept through sociology without being caught. I woke up feeling a little like I was dying after four hours sleep (after the weekend I've had? Shocking) but now I'm just a strange shade of green because I stayed up until 3am doing essays and then when I got to the damn lesson no one had done them anyway.

Pfft... At least I have the moral high ground for now. Assholes. (Not really! No! Please don't ostracise me again! AHH!)

I can't really remember what I did today. I think I spent two lessons watching The Magnificent Seven or Teh Mag-nee-fee-cenn Seh-veeehn so I now know how to shoot bald guys and sombreros. You know, vital life skills.

I'll just take a moment to tell you that in true Northern English style, the weather is terrible. Cold, wet, windy, icy - the very last thing I need when I'm trying to make it through the year without shooting someone. I pity da fool that comes across me when the weather gets even worse. Blergh.

How I long for this weather:

Ahh, Tenerife! Where the heat would literally knock you out, send you down a flight of stairs ON YOUR FACE, make you have a seizure, lose all your memory and wake up as Sookie Stackhouse (true story) and leave you with epic sunburn that cracked and blistered your skin until you bled dry and left you scarred TO THIS DAY with strange pink/brown/white scars all over.

Actually, on second thoughts I don't miss that so much.

I do miss summer though. I remember when everyone (myself included) got all hyped up over Autumn and everyone was all OH EM GEE LOOK AT THE LEAVES and everyone else was all Jesus it's a leave for fuck's sake and all I was left with was that video of the suicidal leaves that I posted about in May which was hilarious so you should definitely click that link.



In Summer I'll think of Winter as snow and icy fresh air and the smell of burning wood and the cool clean smell that comes from the countryside when the city cools down, but it never is like that. Most years there is no snow and we just see endless rain and flooding.



This was taken exactly a year ago yesterday. Nothing's looked like that in a very long time.

Getting that sinking feeling...

Bring it ooonnn, byotch.

Nearly totally forgot I was meant to be pretending to be a nice person today. Whups.

Well today I gave someone my Mars Bar. Not sure I really 'gave' it to them. More, I put it down on the table and when I looked back at it, it wasn't there and his breath smelt of chocolate.

Bastard.

At any rate, that wasn't all I gave today, because today I gave someone wings. Yes. That's right. Wings.

But I'm not going to go on about that, it was a last-ditch attempt at giving whilst I was still feeling friendly.

Instead I'm going to tell you about... ZE GREAT WINTER OF 2009!

Remember back in February when it was sensationally cold and there were blizzards n'shit?

Of course you do.

Well it's got cold again. It's not even a respectable kind of cold. It's an oh em gee it's so fricking coooooolllld - kind of cold. It's the kind of cold where you breathe and your head disappears.

Brrrr.

Not only is it cold, but York has flooded too. That's just peachy. The main road to get to school was flooded, so the buses were canceled, I was stood at the bus stop for a half hour before someone had the heart to tell me that I'd be walking all the way to school.

Damn it.



(Ice would be surprised how cold it was)

Long story short, it took an hour to navigate around all the iced-over puddles before showing up in film studies half way through the lesson. The best part was that my teacher was more worried about that fact that I was more or less blue than the fact that I was massively late. Win.

It took me three hours to warm up, and for all of those three hours I wanted nothing more or less than a Starbucks caramel hot chocolate with muchos whipped cream.

One word: Nom.

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 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.