Cardigan Bonanza.*

*At 6am, this was the funniest thing I'd ever heard.**

**And by 'heard', I mean 'thought'.***

***And by 'thought', I mean 'excess words farted out of my brain'

Welcome to December, belatedly. Life goes on. There have been Mostly Autumn gigs, snow TO THE MAX, bad days at work, better days, worse days, pay days, days off (naw, that's a lie), shocks to the system, bleached and dyed hair AND I joined the gym.

*car brake sound*

WHAT?!

Yes. Yes. Yes yes yes. This blob of lard hauled her arse down to the gym after work and got a membership. Free for the rest of the month and then £40 each month afterwards. Incentive or what..?

I'm not going to go on and on about it like I did with my piercings (which recently caused my ear to explode a little.. ouch.. nevermind) but the gym membership is ace. There are loads of classes, free access to Waterworld (next door), a sauna, steam room, jacuzzi, loads of equipment, a really zen atmosphere, AND!! there's an offer on at the moment where you get the rest of the month's membership free if you sign up. So, Yorkie people, Nuffield Health on Monks Cross (Used to be Courtneys Gym, between the rugby stadium and Waterworld), go go go.

I'm determined to get into a shape that doesn't remind me of something from Monsters, Inc. ("...and work off that flab that's HANGING OVER THE BED!")

Also. I've done all the Christmas shopping. Just randomly. And wrapped it. And put up the tree, and decorated it and put all the presents under it and blahhhhh.

And finally, I hit new heights of awesome by announcing to the store manager and assistant manager at Work #1 that "I love you crazy bitches".

Now, I'm going to bed, because tomorrow I'm hitting the gym hard. Oof.

The 22-Hour Day by Nicole Smith.

Yesterday was tough tits.

It started like this. I woke up at 4am (ON A SATURDAY!! ON A SATURDAY!!!!) I was at Work #2 at 5.30am, doing deliveries in the freezing dark and setting up the store for the day with an army of other people I tiredly question the sanity of. Who has the energy to smile at that time of day?

I finished my shift at 11am and rushed to Work #1 to start work at 11.30am.. until 6pm.. At which time Matt drove us back to his house where we unpacked aaaaaalllll his DJ-ing gear and went to Denny's house and then to Lemon's house and then to Leeds, where we got lost looking for the German Christmas market, which turned out to be 'just behind us'.

The Christmas Market. It was more or less closed by the time we got there but I still got to eat a cockdog (see picture below) and a pretzel the size of my face before going home.

Midnight. But determined to enjoy not having to get up early the next day so I'm on the internet until 2am at which point I feel old and am sent off to bed.

Never has a reasonable 22 hours sounded so boring.

It's eating my face.

I'm going to tell you about me aged seventeen.

At seventeen, I:

- Have more piercings than ribs.
- Have epic red hair.
- Have two jobs, one as awesome as the other isn't. (But I didn't say that)
- Still have braces.
- Swear like a trucker.
- Have given up caring about my weight.
- Have totally eschewed following trends. I have flair, yo.
- Have an unnatural love for webcams.
- Still watch The Simpsons at least twice a day.
- Don't go to school.
- Still haven't seen Avatar.

And. Totally crappy at blogging.

But, I have a million photos on my phone that I took with the intention of showing you all. So.. I'll do that tomorrow when I'm nearer my phone.

Yeah. At seventeen years old I'm still a lazy shit once I get home from work.

Where have you beeeen?

Alas, I hath returneth.

I neglected to mention the epic November challenge I set myself.

Introducing.. Nicole's fantasticalmagicalbakingpalooza. It started with Baking For Dummies arriving in the post (I so recommend it..) and ended with my doing my first batch of cookies on the same day.

Fig. 1 - Stage: I will not be defeated.

Fig 2. - Stage: Holy crap I love that liquidiser.



Fig. 3 - Stage: I have a system worked out at this point.

Fig. 4 - Stage: Voila!

Epic delicious choc chunk cookies For Dummies.

My next creation? Nut-free carrot cake with vanilla/coffee icing (frosting). But more on that as and when it happens.

---

Also, excellent news!! I think I mentioned last week that I was applying for a second job and today? I gets it! I gets it!!

I dreamed a dream and it was dreadfully awesome.

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS!

I thought I'd blogged, I honestly thought I had. I had one of those very convincing dreams in which I blogged and it was epic and you were there, and you were there, and you were there, too.

I've been a-working my feet off. On my one single, lonely day off, I went into work to buy stuff I didn't need (dish rack, though the washing up might never happen) and then spent the rest of the day with crappy Argos Radio songs in my head (#suckfest).

Also, I quite literally nearly worked my feet off because the motherplebbing cleaner who is actually scarily unstable threw my shoes away, put them in a delivery cage and then sent them trucking across the country. My only pair of shoes that don't have gaping holes in the bottom. I was so pissed off I was almost pissed on. But that's what I get for slipping into anger comas in urinals. *cough*

Today was my awesome manager's last day at work so it mostly contained choosing Halloween costumes (try imagining a bloke in a suit dressed as a full-blown pumpkin with an orange shower cap on trying to squeeze through the door at work.. Try it..) and dancing to Wham in the manager's office.

I work hard.

And so it ends.

My thirty days are up, and the month has ended much as it began. With piercings, red hair and packages.

This morning the postman woke me up, but I was so comfortable that I left my inevitable packages to chance and refused to move, open my eyes or even acknowledge anything sensory until 2pm.

My neighbours, The Brick People took my package in for me like good elderly insane people. I went over to their door expecting one package reasonably sized package.

No.

Now, you know how I love me some package? How I go insane if they're BIG BOXES and if there's more than one?

Three big packages! HUZZAH!

Three drinking games, one of which is so complicated I'd need to be sober to play it, and very, very drunk to do any of the forfeits.

I got a good deal on hair dye.. and dyed my hair back to it's usual bright red. I'll post a picture tomorrow.

And finally I'm on the curb of being bollocked for having more than one pair of earrings at work. I'm sorry, boss, but I've got a really big thing about being restricted. It's a perfect equilibrium. My BRIGHT FUCKING HAIR covers eleven of my piercings*, my nose piercing gets me more compliments than glares, I do my job well and they don't exactly slow me down. LEAVE ME ALONE.

Gaahhhhh...

More on that when I get yelled at.

*Eleven ear piercings (Three cartilage, one conch, seven lobe), left nostril, upper navel, lower navel.

*Ping* AHH!

Alors... I got my new uniform today. It's DIRE.

Imagine the thinnest black material you can, then stretch it across my butt and hoik them up to Simon Cowell-esque heights and you have the trousers pictured clearly.

Imagine the reddest of red shirts making my hair look grey whilst barely restraining my poor, abused boobs. And the shirt doesn't really go past the waist.

It's tight in all the wrong places. The trousers balloon out in a vile way. The buttons on the shirt are ready to pop open (settle down, settle down) and take someone's eye out and then scar them for life.

The only redeeming factor is that I have my very own Argos fleece of my very own that is mine awl mine and is very, very snuggly.

And I won't lie. This top makes my boobs look voluptious and crapulous (real word, totally applies here) and big and stuff.

And I have the red hair to go with the company logo.

And I wear turquoise eyeshadow to go with the store colours.

All I need now is A, R, G, O and S earrings for my left ear and I'm done.

I can't think of a title because I'm listening to Queen again.

So you think you can love me and leave me to dii-iii-iie..?!

Today I worked my heel off.

Yeah. The sole of my right heel is gone now.

Le ouch.

(Seriously though. Send icecream and hugs)

Today I got to be a really annoying person because my boss sent me and a woman from work out into the wide world to jump in front of shoppers and push flyers at them.

Ultimately, we got rid of 200 in forty minutes in the freezing cold and wind and got driven off by the management at Asda (grr).

It was crippling. You put your heart on the line, offer them a leaflet and then when they brutally turn you down, you are convinced you are totally unloved and that you'll never put your heart on the line like that again in this lifetime.

There is nothing more pitiful than a girl in their work uniform wearing a fleece maybe three sizes too big for her, windswept, clutching a stack of flyers and limping (raw feet from 22 hours of working around the stockroom and assembling well over 2000 orders SINGLE-HANDED/FOOTEDLY over the course of four days).

Don't talk to me about work ethic.

No rest for the wicked.

Christmas shopping:

Lunchbreak in the staffroom: Argos catalogue, paper, pen, tea and coffee.

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGMUCHLOVE.

So I had a really shitty day yesterday. And the day before. And today I kinda manned up and did well at work (shock horror) rather than getting dragged by my toes into the manager's office to be yelled at twice in one shift.. again.

So I feel a little better.

Healthy eating has gone out of the window, I'm binge-eating like a rat in a fairground (I love that film) and I've managed to stop biting my nails. HUZZAH!

My packages arrived and thankfully I wasn't at home to hump the postman's leg this time. Lucky for him, because there was a HUGE box involved.

And finally, I'm reading a book called Fuck It: The Ultimate Spiritual Way so I should have some pearls (haha) of wisdom soon.

And and and!! Do we think that my hair does a passable impression of being on fire?

Nicole's Definitive List Of The Sneaky ("This Is How I Blog II")

Another thing that spawned from an early morning at work.

Nicole's Definitive List Of The Sneaky

A.k.a. Things you can buy from the shop that probably make you a criminal of some sort in Nicole's warped mind:

• Fire-proof boxes
• Cross-cut paper shredders
• Invisible ink pens
• Bubble wrap
• Oral B electric toothbrush
• Butane gas
• Pitchfork
• Swimming pool cover
• Rubber gloves
• Diving equipment
• Petrol-fuelled chainsaw

I have seven hours at work tomorrow morning. I'm going into the lion's den..

This is how I blog.

Today I was at work verrrry early (9am. How can I be trusted to operate heavy machinery at 9am?) and eventually I ended up seeing things in a skewed sort of way that I just had to write down, so, lo and behold, I have five crumbled pieces of paper infront of me that spent at least four hours in my bra today and are covered in scribbles.

First it started with The Cosiest/Fastest Bed In The World, which was essentially a shopping trolley filled with pillows and beanbags and other such awesome stuff you can find in the stockrooms of Argos. My bra proved to be much less safe than I thought because that piece of paper escaped so there is a (somewhat crumpled) top-notch drawing of The Cosiest/Fastest Bed In The World somewhere on the floor at work.

Then I started writing stupid lists. I'll spare you for today.

Then I got someone to apply for a store card and- Well. Do you know that episode of The Simpsons where Mandula goes to get a divorce from Apu and the divorce lawyer starts dancing on the table after he hears they have nine kids? Yes. Just like that.

And everything was dandy for a while, then my boss came along and said I was being slow and not doing things right and making me do stuff when I was already very very busy with something else so he could go read his newspaper and then this doodle came about:

And then my favourite manager came to join us all and I all but humped his leg.

Work is.. Interesting.

Church-burning thundercunts*

*This isn't an athiest rant, I apologise. Church-burning thundercunts just became my new favourite thing.

I've been feeling more hungover than Satan's ballsack because I had my happy pills upped and they've made me go all dopey. I can't concentrate, I can't work fast and I feel so tired it's just unreal.

I was lovingly reminded yesterday by Denny that I'd said I'd go with her to get her ears pierced for the first time and I'm SO glad we went. There is nothing funnier/scarier/more shitshouldIbravethelasermachine? than watching her go all woozy and bleed really dramatically (I'm talking dripping everywhere, running-down-her-neck dramatic) over a lobe piercing.

So so so proud of her though. I was freaking the hell out when I got mine done the first time.

I had a few minutes of absolute childlike euphoria when sat on the piercing bed as it moved around (it can do 360s) and we both walked out feeling spacey and full of metal studs. Denny from her lil' episode (sorry to be patronising my darkling) and me from the freezer fluid.

It was so cool being able to watch a piercing being done without having to be the subject. There's only so much you can pick up from peripheral vision. I ask my piercer (once again, he's mine, you can't have him) again about him teaching me to pierce, and I'm so much more optimistic now than I was before. Just things like being told that he *will* teach me about anatomy, rather than that he *would* teach me *if* he took me on, and when can I *start*?

START?!!! Oh Gawd. Heaven.

The only crap-mound in the meadow of life is that I have to stay at work to pay off the fees. Work don't like piercings, at the studio I'd need to stock up on them.

I don't understand the stigma against piercings. At work the quota is one set of earrings and one small nose stud maximum. No facial piercings, stretches have to be disguised, keep your hair colour normal. Just.. no individualism what so ever.

There's not much you can say through your work uniform. Nicole, Customer Advisor. Looks tired, messy, trousers are dusty, has cuts and bruises all over from working in the stockroom - clumsy.

As it stands, I have bright red messy hair, wear bright orange/purple make up, and don't particularly enjoy being challenged when in comes to being and expressing myself.

I feel awesome today.

Bite me, bitch.

(Did you catch ma tweetin' last night? I ordered a taxi and ended up on THE party bus.)

Today at work:

*Woman slams kettle down on counter*

Psychobitch Ahoy: I want a replacement on this kettle.

Nicole: *bewildered* Have you got a receipt?

PA: No! I don't need one. Don't try to trick me, I've studied trading standards. I'm not stupid.

Nicole: Err. Right. Without proof of purchase I can't authorise it. It's company policy.

PA: I'm suing the company. This is the second kettle I've bought here that has set fire to my kitchen.

Nicole: Oh yes? It would be Breville that was sued. We're just the middle-man.

PA: No. It be YOU.

Nicole: (Me?) Okay. Fine.

PA: I'm suing.

Nicole: You do that.

PA: I'm not stupid, and I've got your name, Nicole.

Nicole: ..Nor am I.

I get my manager, who relays EXACTLY THE SAME THING as I said. I go to check the displays and the woman follows me around.

PA: I'm suing the company. You'll hear all about it.

Nicole: You do that. Seeing as we're being frank I'll tell you. I'm not sorry because I've seen this before and I'm bored. Go away.

---

Gah. Stupid peoples. The great thing was that trading standards would have agreed. She didn't have a leg to stand on and she knew it, apparently. Bleeeh.

Da-da-da-duuum. Da-da-da-doooom.

I'm not so bothered about getting a second/third job anymore. I enjoyed being at work today, weirdly. Maybe it was because it was only for three hours, or because a particularly awesome cast of people were there tonight, or because The New Person In The Suit happens to be really lovely, but I actually enjoyed my job again for all of three hours.

I also bought some really funky earrings, which is nice though my newer piercings have swollen and gone purple and I had to get Cleo to help me clean them because rarrrrgh, it hurt like hello.

She got her ears pierced today. It looks the shit.

Tomorrow I'm at work for 6-and-a-bit hours which is plenty of time to make a mistake or two which is not good because GUESS WHAT!

The boss-of-all-bosses-ish is coming into the store for the entire duration of my shift tomorrow and I'm all worried because my manager will be there and he hates me and they'll all be mean and start grumbling because ZOMG, FACIAL PIERCING.

And I'll be all, Oh shut up, ladies. It's my nose.

Well. In my head anyway. I've got used to hating people in my head these days. Everyone can be a total asshat and Oh Don't I Know It.

Basically, I hope I'm not epically in trouble for bitching about my manager who, to be fair, is rather nasty to me.

And, for his information, I KNOW that I probably won't get either of the jobs I applied for, but 'because you're you, Nicole' is not the right reason to think it, and saying it was just plain mean.

Woes.

I forgot to take my sanity pills yesterday and today and today I felt it, as in, crying in the storeroom, hating everything, wanting to be nowhere, cursing my manager to the fiery pits of Hades, etc.

It all started out good when I was really chatty to customers and I thought that, hey, this not-taking-my-pills lark was working because I feel floaty and talky. Then one woman started yelling at me because we didn't deliver to her house - a flat in the arse-end of nowhere - and started raving and ranting and stormed off to kill some puppies so, rather than being meek and whatever, I suggested to her husband that he should kindly remind his wife that I personally am not in control of the fleet that is home delivery, that it was an entirely different branch to me and COME ON, I'm lower than breakfast on the pecking order at work. LEAVE ME ALONE.

Then I escaped and went on my break to discover that a random York number had called me, I Googled it and OH FUCK, it was the job I'd applied for. I tried to ring them back a million times and had some serious network difficulties and then I went to my (evil, evil) store manager to ask if I could stop working weekends and then he turned it all around and said that I was jumping the gun and I am 'most likely going to be turned away' anyway.

Fuck him.

I ended up working alone in the upper stockroom where I cried, crooning about hating myself, and when the suicidalness swept in I realised that, oh fuck, I needed to take my pills PRONTO. A day and a half without them and I was a quivering wreck. And there I was, saying just last week that they didn't work as well as they used to. I was wrong, clearly. Apparently, things have just managed to get so much worse.

Now I'm calm again. I'm sat at my brother's kitchen table with a realllly sweet cup of tea (I can hear my mum spitting 'Blergh! Poison!') listening out for Chunk who fell of a swing today, cut the back of his head and ended up in Casualty, fixing Kel and Bunny's Hannah Montana flasks (Hannah Montana - a true sign on crapola) and making plans again.

Tomorrow I'm going to wake up, pick up the phone and hope to God, Loki, Allah, Anansi, Krishna, ALL OF THEM, that I've got another job.

Worker Bee.

I'm dying inside and out. I had to walk/jog six miles to work and then start straight away because I was running late.. Then I was having a nightmare trying to find stock to put on display because we have NOTHING in stock, at all, ever. Three hours later I went on my break thinking I'd get a nice wrap from next door or something but NO. I had the joy of realising for the second day running, I couldn't afford to eat.

When work finished I was tired all over, my brain was tired, my feet hurt, I was hungry and felt slow. I had to walk another six miles home and when I got home, I just wanted to eat, watch crap TV and sleep.

Instead I ate, watched London Ink, London Ink, LA Ink, Miami Ink, Dancing Tweens, Miami Ink, Deadliest Catch... ate some more.. (shut up about my taste in TV.. I work hard)

My mum's car's off the road this month because she can't afford to tax it and my car's off the road because we can't find the insurance documents so I'm walking everywhere and I'm skint broke so I can't afford the bus and I work out of town so I'm running on my sentences and RARR.

I love my job, mostly. Getting there and back is a nightmare and I'm on my feet all day. I spent this morning being the duty manager and that wiped me out completely. When I'm this tired I don't want to take charge, I want to be told what to do, get it right and run in autopilot. Oh, and I like getting paid.

And now I've got all the references I need to apply for two more jobs. I like to work, I don't like to feel tired from working. I don't like feeling exhausted and doing a half-arsed job, pissing people off and feeling bad as a result.

Iiiit's a tough balance.

I'm gonna drop in my applications tomorrow maybe if I can scrounge the bus fare off of my brother, and then I'm gonna hope for the best.

I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

"We have reached the end of the line."

Today I very nearly didn't go job hunting. I didn't want to get out of bed, then I didn't want to get out of the shower, then I didn't have any clothes.

I eventually went out looking expensive enough not to seem like I was desperate for a job and had a nightmare  trying to find the right bus. Then I got there and I got LOST, then I found two lovely stores that are recruiting which was even more of a nightmare because I love them both so I've applied to both and if I get both I am going to be loaded but tiiiired.

Then I went to work and was yelled at by customers for a couple of hours before we all shut up shop, went onto the shop floor with coke and cookies and watched England suck at the World Cup.

So, my job hunting went well! And now I'm all aloney on my owney because my mum and my sister are at my mum's house and my dad is on holiday somewhere sunny.

Bastards.

This isn't working.

I'm trying to write a blog post, dear reader(s), really, I am.

You see, I made a plan earlier tonight..

And I'm TRYING!! SO hard. I want to apply to Matalan which someone said was recruiting (Ugh, awful sentence) and then this happened:

I'll be back tomorrow with something vaguely resembling a blog post, promise.

Erm.. whups.

So.

I brought just enough money to get me reasonably pissed without taking it *too* far but noooo, people started buying my drinks like the awesome lovely things they are and when I got into my taxi, I couldn't walk.

It all started with the goosing of the coke, then the WKD, then the strongbow, and then ANYTHING ELSE THEY COULD GET ME TO DRINK. Bastards.

Still, it was a good time. There are some.. memorable (ironically, not remembered at all).. pictures of my manager on Facebook.

It was a good time though. I came back to my mum's house absolutely fucked and then woke up on my mum's sofa the next day feeling strangely serene.

And then my fucking laptop broke and the whole day went to pot.

Can't win them all. Oh well. =)