I'll have one apocolypse please.

This is the end, yeah this is the end of the world.

So...

NaBloPoMo.

Ouch.

Next time I'm doing February. It's a cop-out month.

Not that I didn't enjoy NaBloPoMo... It was great, and my followers list doubled which made my day multiple times.

I might do it again in NoBloPoMo (November)... so I have at least six months to plan this stuff out beforehand.

I'm DRAINED.

Seriously, you know prunes? I am Queen Prune, I have no juice left at all.

And I'm even telling you this, that's how bad it is.

So it'll be back to the normal schedule for the time being, as in, I need to go out and do things and make things happen in order to be able to write about it, because reading a post about me complaining about life is SO boring compared to the things I could write in the various school holidays I've had where things actually HAPPENED, e.g. last summer, when I went for my work experience interview:

Finally Kelly (She was the head Of Human Resources or Human Head of Lettuce or something) arrived... She explained a little about the job to me and when she asked me why I was interested in working there I fucked up utterly... How do you explain that I didn't check what the job was and just looked at the job description and whether or not I had to wear a skirt, and that since then I had found what I wanted to do?

Utter fuck up...

I kept dropping the pen I was holding too due to nerves as well, she was nice about it, though she probably thinks I'm clumsy now.

Fastforward a month: At this job I broke £2000 worth of wine glasses and caused myself all kinds of injuries. Oh, you didn't know I was clumsy?

---

So here's the plan. I'll be around and about, reading blogs, commenting, tweeting and the works, same as usual, but if there's no blog it's because I'm waiting for something AWESOME.

Like Twilight coming out on DVD... It doesn't come out until the sixth here, and I'll be going into school (IN THE SCHOOL HOLIDAYS, I might add) that day.

I know. It's practically criminal.

What I go to school for.

Sometimes, well, a lot of the time, I grumble about school and WHY OH WHY OH WHY DELILAH? But sometimes it's not so bad...

Occasionally funning things happen at school. Sometimes the time arises when I can turn to Matt in physics and say 'use the force Luke, I've run out of lubricant', or giggle and clap my hands like a toddler when confronted with something called 'Le Prof Sadique' in French, which reads upon translation as:

1. His (teacher's) eyes are evil as he watches you.
2. He doesn't like you.
3. You can be really proud if you get good grades.
4. But if you enter a discussion with him you are always wrong.
5. It's best to avoid being noticed.

It's honestly like a word-for-word account of a run-in with my drama teacher.

Or maybe what I go for school for is being able to look back in my planner and school books and find notes scribbled down that were intended for my blog but never made it that far, such as:

"Having a Bill Bailey moment in which we discover that everywhere else has a news theme that you can groove to, whilst the BBC just has an apocolyptic rave."

... And...

"11.52am - French.

Reading about 'Sauvez Willy 2' whilst sitting by the oh-so-epic 'Airforce 1 Climate Control' machine, which means that all the disease in the room is being sucked up and blown onto me. FML."

Either way, there is something about school that makes it bearable once I'm out of bed, away from the crazies on the bus and actually there.

But if I were to dispell all that and pin the blame on someone, I'd say these guys are what I go to school for.



What will happen when Emma takes them to college?!

The one where Nicole gets marooned. On camera.

[So yeah, sorry about yesterday. I was in a Robin Hood-esque bubble all day. This is what was meant to for yesterday:]

I have this weird new constitution where I have to find the best part of each day and make a big deal about it.

Do care to witness my mum's attempt at parallelogram parking. That was the corrected version.



This week I figured I'd earned my right to leave the city for a few hours, go to the coast or the middle of nowhere and just STOP.

Instead we went to Bridlington.

Bridlington is just the same as York to me. It caters for tourists but is in fact a hole. So yeah, it wasn't so thrilling, but it was still a change.

First and foremost, I got stranded. Happily I caught it all on camera.



The actual town was marginally better. The weather was awful, but then again Yorkshire is one of the few places in the world where the weather forecast has no bearing on whether or not a person takes off on some great outdoors-y escapade.

The other highlight of the day would have been seeing the flag of the USA in the most irrelevant place ever.



(I'm allowed to look fugly, it was cold)

Generally, it was a day of stupidity. I went too close to the sea when the tide was coming in, I went to the coast in gale force winds, I woke up at eight o'clock. The whole sha-bang.

I think if I were to send a postcard to my this-morning self, it would have looked something like this:

Men in tights are the sex.

Today marks a new dawn for England.

It's the day I have waited for for almost thirteen months, and it's finally here.

Robin Hood is back.



I mean, the good one. The hot one.



Huhuhuhuhuhhuuu...

I waited thirteen months for that.

I can't even frame a coherent blog right now.

Kung Fu Panda

Some of you may know that I have the uncanny ability to accumulate massive bags under my eyes because I am a vampire just one of those people who has trouble sleeping and trouble staying awake at the same time.

Today was no exception.

I went to school today and I was a panda.

It wasn't even my fault. I didn't stay up late or wake up at the arse crack of dawn.

No.

It was the wind. I get all restless when it's windy outside. I had about forty different nightmares and when I relayed them to Anna she announced that I had some kind of complex because I spent the whole night being tormented by children being born and dying in the most horrific ways and uuuughh.

Yeah. I'm normal.

So, at lunchtime my BFF Main Gay.5 was being all difficult and refusing to go into the goddamn form room and so after five minutes or so of fruitless complaining, I turned to the only real way to get results - violence.

I pushed, shoved, contemplated biting and poked him. No results...

And then it happened...

I felt THE POWER.

I felt POWERFUL.

I took a deep breath, stepped back and then came flying forward, kicking his ass in the most literal way you could possibly imagine.

Though because he is my BFF Main Gay.5 he probably didn't feel it so much.

That would explain why I got no results to speak of.

But still. I kicked his ass.

I honestly think I am a reincarnation of this dude.



You'd better believe I rock shorts like that.

Pearl Harbour saw less bombing than this

[Warning: If you are averse towards swearing you might want to skip this post because I am ANGSTY, damn it! VERY angsty. I don't even swear that much, but the occasion really calls for it. (yush... I hear it's not big or clever...)]

[Also, parents: beware.]

[Furthermore, I will stop complaining about everything soon, I promise]

You want to know something that really bugs me? I mean something that REALLY bugs me, something that gets in my grill, raises my roof and all kinds of GANG-STA terms I have yet to learn?

I’m talking about fucking time.

Time is the epitome of all evil, I swear. Nothing irritates me more than having too much time, or too little time, or it being time to get up, time to go to sleep, time to go to school, or the bus not being on time.

It’s time to address this issue.

My most recent qualm with time occurred just this week, today actually, about five minutes ago if you must know, but I don’t have the time for such details at present.

Just this Monday, I was told that I had a week to do my statistics coursework. At the beginning of the week, that sounded like loads of time. LOADS.

But then on Wednesday or Thursday you look back on it and realise that a working week is only five days long (Ha. Hahaha... Whoever said that a working week stopped at the weekend was either a gym teacher or one of the elderly insane. Or both, we have four of those at our school.) and you have two days left to improve the coursework draft that was graded an E.

Then you start to stress a bit.

Now, last night I worked from the moment I got to school (8.30am) to 10pm, having had nothing but a pasta salad and a milkshake through all that time. Why? Because I didn’t have time to eat.

By 9pm I was tearing my hair out, I’d screamed into a pillow three times already and was dangerously close to snapping my beloved laptop in two.

And this is where the parents might want to listen up. Teenagers are all like this, it's best you're prepared for the worst. (ME!)

My family aren’t so much a family as an assembly of tragic fools, and that’s how we roll. My friends have this theory that I’ve had a really relaxed upbringing. They would be almost right. I was not brought up; I was dragged up, kicking and screaming.

So it would be perfectly normal in my house for me to storm into my parents’ room and commence the following conversation (Game: Count the swearwords, double points for the F-bomb):

Me: Permission to swear profusely?

Mum: Why?

Me: Because I’ve been fucking working for the last fucking thirteen pissing hours. I’m barely halfway through the stupid fucking portfolio, teachers are being twats, Nathan’s fucked shit up in drama by being such a suck up he should just go give Baguette a B-J right now and-

Mum: Nicky that’s sick.

Me: -and it smells of nail varnish, my sadistics coursework is due in in fucking two days and I haven’t done anything to bloody improve it and me and Joe fucked up the chemistry exam so badly that we have to do it again at lunchtime-

Mum: You didn’t say you had another exam.

Me: -my shoes exploded again and my stupid pissing bag broke and it really, really smells of nail varnish in here!

(QUESTION: World’s longest sentence?)

Mum: Riiight...

---

But it doesn’t even end there. The clocks go backwards or forwards or to Switzerland next week so I lose YET ANOTHER hour of my day.

Stupid time. Go die in a hole.

I can't wait for me.

Today I decided that I was too caught up acting the way people expect me to, so that has to stop.

Translation: I refuse to be insufferably quiet anymore. I refuse to take people's crap and not stand up for myself. I'm not like that anymore, I can't hang around waiting for the person I used to be. I need to be me, which is something else entirely.

---

I also have bog-all time today. We (my drama class) were going to revolt but one member is being an utter douche and so I have another portfolio to write.

Smarmy little shit...

So yes. I can't remember if I've rambled on about drama much here, but I've certainly been doing a lot of it recently.

I even have PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE.

(Yeah. That's my way of saying: 'Here are some photos, bye!')



Codders, Liv and me as Hobby, Salty and Gail in our version of 'Teechers'.



Me as Gail, rocking the neon legwarmers.



Codders, Liv and me again, mid-scene.