Remember that time when Homer took a baptism to the face for Bart? This is nothing like that.

Major (ish) controversy going on in the house tonight.

My niece Kel went away on holiday with her Nananana and now she's been converted to Catholic Christianity. And she's being told to do this communion thing and drink Jesus's blood and stuff.

WHY, GODS, WHY?

I wouldn't mind, I really wouldn't, but Kel is just a child. She's only just seven years old now, and.. ugh. People should be allowed to choose their own paths, and I know they've all been talking about it over her beautiful blondy head.

I have nothing on religion. I just worry that Kel'll get all influenced and opinionated like I've seen with sooo many other children. I've met friends of Cleo's who were raised to believe that 'Playing pretend is like lying', 'silence is golden' (fair play.. but not for a child!) and it's just sad.

I'm not blasting religion. Absolutely not. Everyone can do as they please and (hopefully) be happy that way. But imposing a massive religious... thing.. on a seven-year-old is a low blow.

On a lighter note.. I have a companion piece to go with this rant:

"You don't have to be a six-footer
You don't have to have a great brain
You don't have to have any clothes on
You're a Catholic the moment Dad caaaaame..!"

Monty Python - Every Sperm Is Sacred.

Round-up.

So what's been happening around here?

I went to Slovenia for eight days.

I got my exam result (note the singular). I got a U, but it was a high U so it was more like a U* and overall it comes out as a C so I've passed, which really makes no difference to me.

I'm still working on my mum to give me £3000 for body-piercing-training reasons.

I'm back at work. Joy to the fucking world.

And yesterday I gave my nephew a makeover.

I keep having panic attacks, I need my meds taking up a notch.

And finally... The return of the penis pasta.

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).

I'm just here to love you.

Alors... 27th of October.

Exactly a year ago I did a variety of things... I babysat both of my nieces for three days. I asked for and received red and black bands on my braces, keeping in theme with Twilight. I nearly bit my dentist's fingers off and I discovered a turd on the floor in the middle of a waiting room in the hospital.

Also, my lovely, lovely nephew was born.



For the first week we couldn't think of a name for him. It's not like we hadn't been narrowing down the list for nine months or anything, none of us could agree on a name. I wanted to call him Caleb, like the guy from Kings Of Leon (wooooooooooah, your sex is on fiii-ire), but in the end I was turned down, which sucks because I'm kind of awesome.



But anyways, this awesome lump of luuurve is Rhiley Kaelen "Chunk" Gaines, my awesome TIMES A MILLION nephew. He's one year old today.

The year has gone really quickly, but it hasn't exactly gone smoothly. What with all the stays in hospital, the spell of Bronchitis that had me howling like a wounded animal at school, the meningitis scare that made sure I had worry coming out of my eyes and then having his bed collapse on him. It's been an eventful year.



When he first had Bronchitis I was in such a state that I was ushered into an empty classroom to calm down implode before being taken to hospital to see him, which was grim. All covered in tubes and crying because he kept coughing. Not so good.

Health scares and accidents aside, he's a pretty kick-ass baby. Insanely cuddling and giggly. He almost never cries and he's a total rock star, bobbing up and down waving his arms whenever music comes on. He gets that from me, obviously.



How could anyone resist that face? His sisters do it, somehow. They wind him up no end but he sticks it out, which instantly makes him better than me.

But that's cool. We're cool.


Somehow he always manages to look like he's seen the inside of a Travelodge just west of the seventh circle of hell, but honestly, he's a happy little chunk.

Happy birthday, baby! Don't party too hard.

Rhiley's Christening: The Saga

This past Sunday was my nephew's christening. And before I go any further I'll just point out that none of my family are religious. At all. Ever. It just so happens that my brother's mother-in-law was still talking to us when their first kid was christened, and another two kids later my sister in law is trying to be democratic by keeping them all equal. But now her lizard of a mother isn't talking to any of us because we're common and rough apparently. Charming woman.

Part I: Shopping for presents

Me and my mum had gone out in search of a decent present and a card that didn't have some gawky "Our prayers are with you" crap inside it yesterday and split up to search for a normal-ish card.

We met up ten minutes later to see what we'd found. I held up a "Deepest Sympathy" card.

"Nicky! That's awful." My mum said.

"Well what have you got that's better?" I said, pointing at a card she was holding.

"Just this one. Look, it says 'Get well soon' in it."

Part II: Finding an outfit for my sister

My sister is one of those REALLY hot-headed people who will blow a fuse at almost anything and is also absolutely infuriating to spend time with. So imagine my horror when we had to take her shopping.

Imagine Pearl Harbour with a hint of Hannah Montana.

Bleurgh.

My mum was trying to dress her up like a seven-year-old but my sister wasn't having it at all so I took over and all hell broke loose.

"Cleo... No. Cleo! Those shoes are vile, you look like an effing prostitute."

"Just let me try them on..." She said, holding them behind her back.

"I'm telling you, they're disgusting. They are the pinnacle of ugly."

"JUST let me TRY them ON!" She starts yelling. Marching towards a mirror.

"Well at least get the right size!" I shout after her.

"SHUT UP YOU IDIOT AND LET ME TRY ON THE SHOES!" She screams just as I shriek "THEY'RE THREE SIZES TOO SMALL FOR YOU, ASSHOLE."

Happy families.

Part III: The ceremony

It had already got off to a shaky start with my sister-in-law's family blatantly ignoring my family, sitting on the other side of the church from us, parking on the other side of the car park from us etc. etc. when the vicar asked for Rhiley.

There was a pause...

"He's in the car." My brother mutters before running out.

Then the actual ceremony started, baby and all, when my sisters-of-sorts' kids started SCREAMING. The vicar carried on anyway, talking very loudly. We were given these sheets to read off but we all kept missing our cues and got shown up by my sister-in-law's family who are all devout-ish Roman Catholics and so knew every prayer off by heart while my side of the church was muttering "Where are they reading that from?" and "Fuck! Were we meant to say something?"

And because the after-party was being held in a pub, as soon as the vicar said the last words on the sheet of paper we were given, my great-uncle Chris clapped his hands together and shouted "Right lads, pub!" which carried around the room pretty swiftly.

Part IV: YOUR BOOBS!

My grandma has had breast cancer twice and as a result now has no boobs at all, but has these weird things that she can shove down her bra and I mentioned yesterday that she should wear them, and so she did, but I hadn't noticed...

My brother: "You're looking great grandma." Suck-up...

Grandma: "Well yes... *whispers something* but Nicky hasn't noticed yet..."

Me: "What?" I ponder for a moment, and the church went a little quiet. "YOUR BOOBS!"

The vicar was kind enough to show me the exit.

Part V: The pub

My SIL's parents/family didn't stay around because apparently pubs are below them so it was just my family, my brother's army mates, my sister-in-law's friends and all their kids. Rowdy. As. Fuck.

There was awesome food courtesy of my SIL, awesome Rhiley-cake and awesome drinks, courtesy of the bar but not my mother or brother who refused to buy me any because of a supposed £2500 fine.

Huh. Yeah right.

Whatever.

Part VI: The verdict

Awesome day. Rhiley smelt of religion afterwards though which was slightly alarming. But then he pooped and it was normal again. I also got the first ever picture of me and my dad together EVER which is just amazing.



You could hear the psycho themetune playing at this point.



Rhiley Awesome Face with his sisters Eboni and Kelsi. Don't be fooled by their innocent good looks. They are actually the epitome of evil.



Awesome Face starred on the cake as well.



Me and my bro invented the spazzy snazzy photo.

---

The one thing, the one tiny thing, that I could not stomach was Awesome Face's outfit. Cute as he was... bleh. Because honestly?



I've seen it before. And that scares the shit out of me.

At least I'm not dead yet.

That's all you people ever seem to do, really. Die.

(In case you didn't know, I have no intention of dying. Ever.)

I cannot even begin to tell you how much death has been going on this weekend.

It started on Saturday, when I bought over $100-worth (it's in dollars because it sounds more impressive than mere sterling £££) of Twilight things. Three things died in that moment.

1. My pride.
2. My bank balance.
3. Part of the man who served me in the store.

My heart goes out to all those who had to suffer for this.

And then...

On Sunday, I went into town again to buy a DVD, I came out with eight of the bastards. My bank card was screaming in agony at this point.

Then I was watching I Am Legend, but skipped over parts because the plague mutants looked too much like The Mummy and that guy always scares the shit out of me the first few times and in that EVERYBODY died. Then the guy who survived died to save two other people who survived and then-

*sigh*

You all died, people.

Monday... Huzzah! Bank Holiday. No school.

First things first, we - being my mum and me - had to drag my dad to A&E (Ummm... 'ER' in American-ish?) after we thought his lungs had exploded or something and it turned out it was just how he was which led to my mum letting rip a volley of 'freak's and 'weirdo's.

Went to visit my grandma in hospital, I don't like her ward. It smells of piss and general bad hygiene and the company was absolutely terrible... It's not a place a human, or any animal, should have to spend more than a couple of seconds in without holding their breath and wearing scuba gear. Kind of like school, actually.

I killed an hour reading all the 'CRITICAL: AVOID THE SPREAD OF DISEASES' messages that coated the walls and ceiling and watching an old lady flip out over a picture of a pig that her grandchild drew for her.

A nurse came over to see what was wrong and was fussing over the old lady.

I turned to my grandma and said 'Must be pretty vigilant with the whole swine flu thing around here, huh?'. She didn't hear me.

'I said: Must be pretty tough on the whole swine flu thing around here!'

'What?'

'I SAID THE NURSES HAVE GOT THE WHOLE WARD FLIPPING OUT OVER SWINE FLU, GRANDMA.'

Dead. Silence.

After a few moments of receiving the full-on stink eye of death from the nurse across the room, my grandma piped up 'It's a load of old bollocks if you ask me'.

Well said Grandma, well said.

---

I'd promised my niece - Kel - that I'd go visit her this weekend and we'd blow out candles for my birthday so my bro's house was the next stop. Unfortunately I'd also said that my friends would come too (she's in love with Tilda, D.L. Denny and Lemon after Friday night, and Tilda wasn't even there. THAT is how good she is) but I didn't bring them...

Translation: I was in d-e-e-p shit.

But when I got to my brother's house, there was a sombre air...

No-Name the guinea pig had died.

Kel's guinea pig.

Had it been Bunny's guinea pig it wouldn't have been so bad, because Bunny is cold and unemotional three years old and ape-shit crazy. Kel, however, is a lunatic, but loves drama. LOVES IT. So when I got inside and settled down next to Rhiley, the only sane one of my brother's offspring, I became the victim of a guilt-trip because I didn't want to see some poor guinea pig's corpse. Particularly one that has been through four weeks with my nieces.

Poor little blighter, it was doomed from the start.

Just to top if off, I watched The Holiday today as well... It was one of the DVDs I bought in a sale.
I was horrified to see the silly woman (no disrespect... Her accent almost makes me appreciate being English) stood inhaling gas from the cooker after her douchebag ex-boyfriend got engaged.
I mean... There are better things to do at a time like this!!!

Jude Law, for example.

D'oh!

Strange lady. I wouldn't be caught doing that if I was a stone's throw away from Jude Law, that's for sure.

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.]

Down with the kids.

Let me tell you a little story about today...

After a day of waking up unnaturally early, sprinting down one of York's main roads, waltzing around a city that is predominantly grey, smuggling KitKats and Twix bars away from the 'School Of English' and watching Londoners screaming 'it's the end of the world! It's the end of the world!' because of an elephant, I came home, glad to crash and relax for the evening. Maybe I could watch a DVD, listen to some music and get ahead with some work?

Haha. That's a good one.

No.

My family came home from work/school. I'd climbed into bed, not planning to leave for the next sixteen hours or so.

'Are you ready to go?' My mum asks.

'Uhh... Pardon?' I'm stumped, and somewhat incredulous. I'm in bed. I am not ready - or willing - to go anywhere.

Next thing I knew I was walking to the nearest Italian Restaurant to meet the fockers.

Kel, Bunny and Rhiley were there. Bunny was being difficult, shrieking 'poo poo' in such a way that it echoed off of the walls and caused the candles to flicker. Kel was being her usual matter-of-fact self, though she'd suddenly turned into a five-year old doctor, diagnosing everyone with all kinds of far-flung diseases.

Rhiley? Giggly. We made a game whilst waiting for the food. We'd pass him along the table and see how far we could get until he started crying. (He's at that age where he doesn't know if he's laughing or crying.)

The meal was yummy. Poo (my brother...) ate all of Bunny's food because she asked for pizza and then at the very mention of icecream she said she didn't want her pizza and was saving room (clever little three-year old...) for dessert.

Le sigh.

I finished all my food and looked up to see Kel watching me, a twinkle in her eye.

'Nicoooooooole?' She said slowly.

'Yes?' I braced myself, she comes out with some horrific things.

'I know why your belly is bigger than mine.' Well. It could be worse.

I sighed. 'Why's that, Kel?'

'Because you're going to have a baby!' She shouted at me, as if it was news to me. Well, it was. It was also news to the entire restaurant.

I was mortified. I made my excuses... 'going... to see... Rhiley'.

'Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, auntie Nicoooole? You've got a baby in your tummy! You don't need Rhiley!' She jabbered on.

ShutUpShutUpShutUp.