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18 November 2013

TatDo or TatDon't?

Good evening angel faces, this post is one of much controversiality (oo-er) but please remember this is my little space for my little thoughts!

So for centuries, tribes and colonies have been inking their skin as a symbol of their being, who they are, what they want to become, a sign they are part of a group, or a sign they are an individual... it's a tradition that has been going on for years...

When the tattooing we know (and may love), first came to the UK the custom was generally associated with sailors and men of the sea, who had been away to foreign countries and would bare a tattoo as a statement. Later, it spread to aristocrats and the very rich... but this blog post is definitely not a history lesson.


I just want you to question when did this:


turn into this:


You see, I have no ambition to rant about tattoos generally. If I'm completely honest, I don't care where you get them, if they're on your forehead or on your lady-parts. I completely understand if someone wants a tattoo just because they like it, to me, I am not a tattoo fascist and I do believe in getting what you want, not what other people want.

It just really hurts my brain when I think about all the hundreds of people who go out and get pissed and end up with tattoos like the one above. Or people who get a tattoo that covers up their whole back 'just for fun'. For instance, a friend of mine (let's call him Jack), when Jack was younger he went through a crazy phase and got 'Phat Bastard' tattooed across his stomach. Across his stomach. In massive letters. Enormous letters. I met Jack about 10 years later and he now has a baby daughter. Jack is now panicking about the day is daughter asks him what the words on his stomach mean. And is absolutely full of regret.

I don't have any tattoo's myself, but I know I will most likely get one in the future, and I have a lot of friends who have them. But personally, a tattoo is a commitment for life and not something I am going to take lightly. So I guess the whole point of this blog is not 'don't get a tattoo', because a lot of the time they are beautiful. It's just, please think about what you are getting done before it becomes inked on your body for life. Because a camel on your toe may be hilarious when you're 18.... but when you're a 45 year old businessman, not so much.

Go forth my little friends and proceed with caution.

Ciao for Now!
x




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14 November 2013

Being an emotional human

Today I had big big plans to create a 'my bedroom' post, however, as per usual the technology in my life has other ideas and since the camera isn't being recognised by my computer, I have had to draw up a new plan. Inspiration came fairly quickly after watching the John Lewis Christmas Ad on TV (kudos to the JL marketers, you are true angels).

You know when you're sat in the cinema not watching a particularly sad film and a girl a few rows back starts crying, or you're at a wedding and you look at the other end of the aisle and you see some woman sobbing into a tissue, or maybe you have a friend who you can't watch any film with because you are scared you will drown in their tears?......... Well, I am that friend. 

Admittedly, my emotion seems to be drawn from other peoples misfortune (fictional or otherwise), be it a film, the news, a play... I will find something to cry about. Me and my ex-boyfriend, went to see Monsters University, happily munching our popcorn and drinking our coke as the adverts came on. Our excitement began to brew when I saw the little pixar lampshade hopping along, ready for the pre-film... and by the end of it, Tom was sat next to a sniffling, piggy eyed mess. 

I think the day I realised I had a default in my ability to keep in the waterworks, came with the biggest sob-film ever in the world ever.... Titanic (although maybe The Notebook is on par). Titanic is one of those rare films I can watch, and know that I will not be the only person holding back tears at the end. However, in my case things went a step further. I had watched Titanic, my emotions had over flown and I had quite literally drenched my friends shoulder in my own tears and snot. I had gone to bed red eyed and squinty, exhausted from how much crying I had done in the space of about half an hour and religiously reminded myself it is JUST as film, Jack Dawson does not exist. 

My room, is next door to the upstairs living room. So unless the volume is on 0, I can hear pretty much anything. A couple of days post-Titanic sobbing, I was sat in my room doing some coursework, completely oblivious to my little sister, who in the next room, was putting on Titanic for herself. Literally, all it took was the first bar of the opening song, and I was sat on my bed, alone, crying like a baby.

I KNOW.


Due to my best friend having the emotion of a teaspoon when it comes to films and plays etc, I have had to come up with the defence that being emotional is due to my empathetic personality. However, I am fully aware of how annoying it is and although I am normally not a loud sobber (not too loud anyway), I am told during almost every cinema trip how weird I am for crying. 

So, next time you're watching a film, please spare a moment of thought before chucking your popcorn at the head of the girl sitting in front of you crying over a fictional characters misfortune... as it is probably me.

Ciao for now! x

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5 November 2013

Post-Break-Up-Stages

Over the summer, I went through a 'break up', not your typical 'he dumps her/she dumps him' thing, but it was a break up none the less. The problem we had was that we didn't want to break up with each other. But we were both going travelling and knew that it would be stupid to be in a long distance relationship when we were both off, doing new exciting things. So that is how I found myself, on the day I was catching my plane to Istanbul, an hour before my 2 best friends arrived, in bed, in stage 1 of the break up.

Stage 1, was the crying. Crying, sobbing, sniffling, those  inwards breaths that get caught in the back of your throat and make you feel like you're having a miniature heart attack. You hide in your bed and when anyone comes to see you, you just turn over dramatically, wave a hand at them to show you are still very much alive, and send them on their way. You may also have a look at photographs or think of things that you used to do together, just to make life that little bit harder. You watch films, LOTS of films, Pretty Woman, Never Been Kissed, The Notebook, all films that make you feel that little bit more alone. And, providing you are not one of those gals that loses their appetite when they've broken up with someone (I am definitely not that girl), you eat. Copious amounts of chocolate, that you have sent people out to buy for you, and very often you drink wine. Or maybe vodka if you're feeling that bad.

Funny Breakup Ecard: I'll be publicly sobbing for the next few weeks.

Stage 2 is always a little bit (a lot) of a risk.. you lose your inhibitions, you go wild and free, your friends tell you 'HEY, ALICE, YOU DON'T NEED NO MAN' and you definitely believe them. And thus comes, the rebound (optional plural choice here). Your friends come round, they drag you out of bed, force some clothes on you, make you shower, brush your teeth... things that haven't happened for a long while. They chuck out the empty chocolate wrappers and ice cream tubs, and put a bit of lippy on you. What a transformation. You look in the mirror and think, 'F**k XXXXXX, I don't need him' and you embark into the night. Ready to pounce on just about anyone and anything.

Please note that this is not always as fun as you think it may be. Sadly I fell into the 'plural' category and one of my rebounds resulted in the most awkward sexual moment of my life. His name was Hugo, he occasionally wore a headband (need I say more), and as I dropped the lid to his bottle of water and bent down to get it, I lifted my head to see him about an centimetre away from me, as he said 'Fuck the lid' in a low, fake, gravelly voice that definitely did not belong to him, and proceeded to attack me with his mouth.

Let that be a lesson ladies, rebounds are rubbish. Unless they result in really great sex.
Funny Flirting Ecard: I need a hug that results in wild sex.

Stage 3 brings out the worst in almost anyone. This is when you blame and get angry. After several attempts of getting over him, it's not working, you can't seem to settle for someone else, so you decide that this is someone's fault and obviously, it is his. So you take to Facebook and search and search and search for something that will make him look at fault, even when he's not. You try to convince yourself he is the bad one, you don't need him.... Sophie Jones has liked more than one facebook status.... bingo. CLEARLY he has moved on already... 3 facebook status likes? That is too much to be just a friendship. And so it continues on this long and windy road of facebook stalking, (real life stalking), asking his friends, until finally 

Stage 4 the realisation. Stage 4 is the best stage. And although sometimes is can take weeks or months, when you finally get there, it is a massive sigh of relief. You feel light and fluffy and finally you realise there really up plenty more fish in the sea (or attractive, decent guys). Stage 4 comes from weeks of going through the other stages, all the subconscious building up until BAM suddenly, you notice you haven't looked on his facebook for a while, you notice, actually, that guy at college/uni/work, is pretty hot and you realise the little knot in your stomach of guilt every time you are attracted to someone else is gone. Thank god for Stage 4, because it makes all the other stages feel that little bit worth it. 

Ciao for Now 
x

You will grow emotionally from months of bone-crushing agony


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