Hello Bloggies! First, an apology. I know you've been sitting at your laptops/smart phones/tablets with confused expressions on your faces. I know you've been distressed and inwardly crying out 'Where is the next blog? When is it coming?!' I know you've been dying for a tweet, a word, anything in the name of breaking social boundaries, general nerdiness *salute* or even just a weird gross joke or two. From the bottom of my heart, I apologise. I've spent 10 days in a field at a christian MUSIC festival and have not had access to you all. Sad times. However, camping brings out in me a whole new level of disgusting that I never knew I had, so prepare yourselves for many a blog that will leave you saying 'Seriously? She posted that on the internet?!' Good times.
So, grovelling out of the way, I thought, as part repentance, part gift to you, I would share with you the BEST IDEA IN THE HISTORY OF HUMAN KIND! Ok, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I was quite pleased with my little discovery. As I may have mentioned/ranted before, I have this thing called POBS (or IBS to those of you who want beating with a large stick up a personal place) and the thing about POBS is you spend a lot of time on the loo; 'waiting on the Lord' as it were, or, to put it more crudely, waiting to poo.
So, enough sharing for one day...before I left for my christian MUSIC festival, I was sitting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea at that just beautiful temperature of hot, but drinkable, when I realised another round of 'waiting on the lord' was about to grace my life. Without thinking, I picked up my tea and started heading for the bathroom, when Jake asked, somewhat increduously 'Are you taking your tea to the loo with you?' I paused. I reflected. And said 'Yes. Yes I am.' What followed was perhaps the greatest thing of all time (apart from Jesus, Jane Austen, Batman, Star Wars and the Princess Bride...and cake) Ready? Well you should be because I've pretty much mentioned it already:
Tea on the Toilet
Now some of you are thinking 'What's the point?' and others are possibly thinking 'Well, of course! We've been doing that for years.' To the first group, answers are coming. To the second, well done. I salute you sir and/or madam. You have reached the promised land.
The reason why Tea Toilet Time is a beautiful, wise and wonderful thing, or at least, one reason of many, is time. More and more we are becoming these crazy busy people with responsibilities, worries and general stuff *salutes* to do. There's no time anymore to just sit and think, relax, breathe in a bit of life. Even when we have down time we're watching TV, listening to ITunes, reading a book, there're no little moments of calm nothingness, to simply be. Tea on the Toilet cuts through the madness because it gives you a quiet time without having to, if you'll pardon the pun, force it. Even if you don't have POBS, there are always those occasions where you know you're going to need the loo, but there'll be a long time waiting before anything occurs. Instead of leaving it until nature not only calls but texts, facebooks and starts banging down the front door, put the kettle on. Make a brew and have a sit until nature is ready to take its course. It even solves that awkward problem of 'Is there more coming or should I get up?' Who cares? Sit back and take another sip.
P.S. This blog is dedicated to my friend 'Hannah' as this may literally be the only way to make her stop. I've possibly saved her life now. I'm brilliant.
Friday 26 August 2011
Tuesday 9 August 2011
Big girls don't fart
Oooo it's two icky ones in a row, what a bargain!
This is one social thing that is always a little bit awkward: The Lady Fart. We all do it, everyone knows we do it, yet most girls hold in even a minor trump for fear of cries of "You are unclean! Away with you, Wench!" This fear is ridiculous, but not entirely unfounded. I'm a fairly confident public farter (Note to self: add that to CV) yet even yesterday, my boyfriend of 2 and a half years - who is well aware how disgusting I am - comes out with "But girls don't fart..." Maybe he was joking...and maybe I shouldn't have physically attacked him...but it's a common opinion that farting isn't "ladylike" [and again - what does that mean?! There isn't such a word as manlike!] I am here to say that not only do girls fart as much as boys, but sometimes even more...
You see, good internet friends, about 3 years ago I discovered I had this wonderful thing called IBS, which stands for irritable bowel syndrome. Now, before I knew what it was, I never thought about it but now I do know, all too well, what IBS is; I take offence to the name. The syndrome bit is fine. It's serious, it's medical-y. That's grand. And bowel is fine also because, well, that's what it is. But irritable?? When my mum nags me the minute I get home I'm irritable. When I have to make small talk with well-meaning, but infinitely dull, people I'm irritable. When my insides rage into self-destructive mode because I had too much mayonaise in my sandwich, I'm not irritable, I'm pissed off. And before you say it's the bowel that's irritable, no it isn't. My bowel hates me. And isn't afraid to show it. By the way, all this ranting is actually only a precursor to tell you that whenever I mention it again, I shall not refer to it as IBS, but POBS (Pissed Off Bowel Syndrome). Just so we're on the same page.
So, back to women folk. I mention POBS because women are more likely to get it than men, and so are much more likely to be farting all over the shop. And we shouldn't be afraid to because, if you have POBS, farting makes the evil insides happy again. Why should we stop being happy inside? I like being happy. Try it. It's fun.
And just to reassure everyone that I'm not bitter...or not entirely...I have found some wonderful ways of making excessive farting fun. Firstly, the "girls don't fart" thing. The first time I farted in front of my boyfriend, he smelt it and said "oh sorry, was that me?" It turns out old Jakeface often farts without realising, and thus everytime I farted, I'd follow it with an "Oh, Jake!" It was at least a year of our relationship before he found out. Genius. And he didn't work it out, I had to confess.
Also, I have discovered that if you own it, and make it your own, it's not as embarassing as much as it is hilarious. And I will do most things for a joke. Thus, when I won at cards the other night, and felt a Pissed Off Bowel movement coming on, I didn't sit quietly and hope it went away. That would have been horrible for me and no fun for everyone else because sitting silently is LAME. Instead, I proudly threw down my cards and said "Right, I'm going for a Victory Poo." Cue riotous, if slightly shocked, laughter and a empty-bowelled, happy CJ. Joy all around :)
Right, that's third-wheeling, showering, and farting boundaries smashed. I am on a roll.
This is one social thing that is always a little bit awkward: The Lady Fart. We all do it, everyone knows we do it, yet most girls hold in even a minor trump for fear of cries of "You are unclean! Away with you, Wench!" This fear is ridiculous, but not entirely unfounded. I'm a fairly confident public farter (Note to self: add that to CV) yet even yesterday, my boyfriend of 2 and a half years - who is well aware how disgusting I am - comes out with "But girls don't fart..." Maybe he was joking...and maybe I shouldn't have physically attacked him...but it's a common opinion that farting isn't "ladylike" [and again - what does that mean?! There isn't such a word as manlike!] I am here to say that not only do girls fart as much as boys, but sometimes even more...
You see, good internet friends, about 3 years ago I discovered I had this wonderful thing called IBS, which stands for irritable bowel syndrome. Now, before I knew what it was, I never thought about it but now I do know, all too well, what IBS is; I take offence to the name. The syndrome bit is fine. It's serious, it's medical-y. That's grand. And bowel is fine also because, well, that's what it is. But irritable?? When my mum nags me the minute I get home I'm irritable. When I have to make small talk with well-meaning, but infinitely dull, people I'm irritable. When my insides rage into self-destructive mode because I had too much mayonaise in my sandwich, I'm not irritable, I'm pissed off. And before you say it's the bowel that's irritable, no it isn't. My bowel hates me. And isn't afraid to show it. By the way, all this ranting is actually only a precursor to tell you that whenever I mention it again, I shall not refer to it as IBS, but POBS (Pissed Off Bowel Syndrome). Just so we're on the same page.
So, back to women folk. I mention POBS because women are more likely to get it than men, and so are much more likely to be farting all over the shop. And we shouldn't be afraid to because, if you have POBS, farting makes the evil insides happy again. Why should we stop being happy inside? I like being happy. Try it. It's fun.
And just to reassure everyone that I'm not bitter...or not entirely...I have found some wonderful ways of making excessive farting fun. Firstly, the "girls don't fart" thing. The first time I farted in front of my boyfriend, he smelt it and said "oh sorry, was that me?" It turns out old Jakeface often farts without realising, and thus everytime I farted, I'd follow it with an "Oh, Jake!" It was at least a year of our relationship before he found out. Genius. And he didn't work it out, I had to confess.
Also, I have discovered that if you own it, and make it your own, it's not as embarassing as much as it is hilarious. And I will do most things for a joke. Thus, when I won at cards the other night, and felt a Pissed Off Bowel movement coming on, I didn't sit quietly and hope it went away. That would have been horrible for me and no fun for everyone else because sitting silently is LAME. Instead, I proudly threw down my cards and said "Right, I'm going for a Victory Poo." Cue riotous, if slightly shocked, laughter and a empty-bowelled, happy CJ. Joy all around :)
Right, that's third-wheeling, showering, and farting boundaries smashed. I am on a roll.
Monday 8 August 2011
Go on, let's have a gross one
Ok, Guys, I've let you down. I promised an anything and everything blog full of breaking social norms, bodily functions; essentially the things you wouldn't mention to your Grandmother but it would be really funny to. And I realise that this is only the 3rd blog in so it's not like I've gone completely off track but I know myself well and for all my virtues, I'm not much of a starter-finisher. So we'll have a go :)
Firstly, as I write this now you have my solemn vow (although I'm not sure that's entirely necessary) that I am freshly showered, smelling lovely and just all the wonderful lady-like things one is expected to be [ side note: Have you ever noticed that a lot of the words that are describing what's 'feminine' are pretty pointless as they're just variations of female terms. Like 'Ladylike' and 'Girly' what does that even mean?! ] But I digress...the reason I tell you that I have showered is that an hour ago I couldn't have (without being a filthy liar - hehe pun) or yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. You see, kids, being the massive skank that I am, I have not showered since thursday, today is monday. That's 5 days inclusive. And I didn't even realise this until yesterday when I noticed my hair was slightly greasy and decided to work out how long it had been. I was slightly shocked, but did I even shower that day? No. I couldn't be arsed.
The problem is that a few months ago I did this thing called 'The Water Challenge' which was set up by a charity called Tearfund, raising awareness of the issues of water and sanitation in the poorer parts of the world. Put simply, I lived for a week like someone would do in Africa, on only 10 litres of water a day. To give you a quick sense of perspective, in the west we tend to do 200 litres a day, 10 litres is like a minute in a power shower. So I didn't shower for a week (among other things like sticking to oven food and not using the washing machine) it wasn't pleasant, but I realised something. Aside from realising the incredible struggles that people go through every day for something as easy for us as pressing a button or turning a tap, on a more trivial note, I seem to have a very good natural body odour. So good in fact that some people didn't really notice my seven-day showerless stint. I even asked my friend - cue fake name invention with minimum thought - Jamie, who I can always trust to give her honest opinion (I love people like that!) how terrible I smelled and even she said she couldn't really tell.
The problem that I have, among many other vices that, don't worry, I am aware of, is that I'm completely lazy. Seriously. They should give me an award. Once, 'Hannah' and 'Jake' eg. best friend and boyfriend drove up for hours to visit me at uni and I didn't manage to get dressed before they got to me...at 8pm... So I am aware what being able to miss the odd 4 showers and get away with it means, I will do that. A lot. Don't judge me.
And when you think about it (albeit possibly stretching this too far to justify my disgusting ways) why not? I go to this christian Music festival every year, called Momentum, camping with my lovely churchy friends and the boys shower every day. At a festival. In a field. Do the girls? No. They call us skanky, and they may have a point, but for guys its a 5 minute shower, bit of hair gel and they're good to go. My boyfriend doesn't even use shampoo. For a girl it's shampoo, condition, shave, shower gel, maybe a cheeky foot pumice...and then trying to tame long wet hair into submission, let alone making it all pretty and dry, takes at least 45 minutes. Meanwhile the boys are off gallavanting and we're still stuck in the tent, trying to defy the laws of hair maintenance and, even physics, to attempt becoming goddesses with 4 kirby grips and a tin of mousse. It's not worth it. Life's too short. Pass me the dry shampoo and a baby wipe.
Firstly, as I write this now you have my solemn vow (although I'm not sure that's entirely necessary) that I am freshly showered, smelling lovely and just all the wonderful lady-like things one is expected to be [ side note: Have you ever noticed that a lot of the words that are describing what's 'feminine' are pretty pointless as they're just variations of female terms. Like 'Ladylike' and 'Girly' what does that even mean?! ] But I digress...the reason I tell you that I have showered is that an hour ago I couldn't have (without being a filthy liar - hehe pun) or yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. You see, kids, being the massive skank that I am, I have not showered since thursday, today is monday. That's 5 days inclusive. And I didn't even realise this until yesterday when I noticed my hair was slightly greasy and decided to work out how long it had been. I was slightly shocked, but did I even shower that day? No. I couldn't be arsed.
The problem is that a few months ago I did this thing called 'The Water Challenge' which was set up by a charity called Tearfund, raising awareness of the issues of water and sanitation in the poorer parts of the world. Put simply, I lived for a week like someone would do in Africa, on only 10 litres of water a day. To give you a quick sense of perspective, in the west we tend to do 200 litres a day, 10 litres is like a minute in a power shower. So I didn't shower for a week (among other things like sticking to oven food and not using the washing machine) it wasn't pleasant, but I realised something. Aside from realising the incredible struggles that people go through every day for something as easy for us as pressing a button or turning a tap, on a more trivial note, I seem to have a very good natural body odour. So good in fact that some people didn't really notice my seven-day showerless stint. I even asked my friend - cue fake name invention with minimum thought - Jamie, who I can always trust to give her honest opinion (I love people like that!) how terrible I smelled and even she said she couldn't really tell.
The problem that I have, among many other vices that, don't worry, I am aware of, is that I'm completely lazy. Seriously. They should give me an award. Once, 'Hannah' and 'Jake' eg. best friend and boyfriend drove up for hours to visit me at uni and I didn't manage to get dressed before they got to me...at 8pm... So I am aware what being able to miss the odd 4 showers and get away with it means, I will do that. A lot. Don't judge me.
And when you think about it (albeit possibly stretching this too far to justify my disgusting ways) why not? I go to this christian Music festival every year, called Momentum, camping with my lovely churchy friends and the boys shower every day. At a festival. In a field. Do the girls? No. They call us skanky, and they may have a point, but for guys its a 5 minute shower, bit of hair gel and they're good to go. My boyfriend doesn't even use shampoo. For a girl it's shampoo, condition, shave, shower gel, maybe a cheeky foot pumice...and then trying to tame long wet hair into submission, let alone making it all pretty and dry, takes at least 45 minutes. Meanwhile the boys are off gallavanting and we're still stuck in the tent, trying to defy the laws of hair maintenance and, even physics, to attempt becoming goddesses with 4 kirby grips and a tin of mousse. It's not worth it. Life's too short. Pass me the dry shampoo and a baby wipe.
Saturday 6 August 2011
Reclaiming the 3rd Wheel (Because Del Boy's Reliant Robin was legendary)
We've all been caught in that situation. You're single, or your lover person is busy, and you think "Oh, I know, I'll go see what [insert couples' names here] are up to". Suddenly it's just you, and two other people who are very much in love and not afraid of showing it. You're an extra, a gooseberry, a third wheel.
But fear no more because the solution is here! I don't know if you're meant to use proper names on blogs so for privacy I'll make them up for people :) My boyfriend...Jake...and I have a running joke with our mutual best friend, let's call her Polly, that she's our official third wheel. Jake and I are known for being - how shall I say this? - less than couple-y in group situations because, let's face it, it's cheesy, not nice to the single people and just plain lame to be all lovey-dovey in front of people. For example, on new year's eve most people had a lovely kiss at midnight, we had a high five. Just as fun and no one feels sad. It's a win.
So as Polly is single at the moment and summer is that weird time when people aren't around all at once as they're off gallavanting, we decided to reclaim the third wheel status as a good, unpatronising and super fun thing; to make it a wonderful experience to be adopted as a couple's third wheel, and hang out with them without feeling awkward or sad inside. But not only did we hang out with Polly, we took her on a date!
We went to the cinema together, bought some beverages and, apart from a moment where Polly said "let's hold hands!" and then awkwardly realised that going in the middle meant she was holding Jake's hand and that was weird, it was ridiculously fun! Now we have our other best friend...Hannah...fighting for joint third wheel custody over us because her boyfriend is away and we're just really fun!
There you have it, first social boundary broken! Go forth, dear friends, and book a table for 3 (just make sure you all pay dutch because dinner for 3 is hard on the student wallet!)
But fear no more because the solution is here! I don't know if you're meant to use proper names on blogs so for privacy I'll make them up for people :) My boyfriend...Jake...and I have a running joke with our mutual best friend, let's call her Polly, that she's our official third wheel. Jake and I are known for being - how shall I say this? - less than couple-y in group situations because, let's face it, it's cheesy, not nice to the single people and just plain lame to be all lovey-dovey in front of people. For example, on new year's eve most people had a lovely kiss at midnight, we had a high five. Just as fun and no one feels sad. It's a win.
So as Polly is single at the moment and summer is that weird time when people aren't around all at once as they're off gallavanting, we decided to reclaim the third wheel status as a good, unpatronising and super fun thing; to make it a wonderful experience to be adopted as a couple's third wheel, and hang out with them without feeling awkward or sad inside. But not only did we hang out with Polly, we took her on a date!
We went to the cinema together, bought some beverages and, apart from a moment where Polly said "let's hold hands!" and then awkwardly realised that going in the middle meant she was holding Jake's hand and that was weird, it was ridiculously fun! Now we have our other best friend...Hannah...fighting for joint third wheel custody over us because her boyfriend is away and we're just really fun!
There you have it, first social boundary broken! Go forth, dear friends, and book a table for 3 (just make sure you all pay dutch because dinner for 3 is hard on the student wallet!)
Friday 5 August 2011
Oh..Hi there! Let's get started, shall we?
Alright Kids?
My sister said that if I want to be a brilliant writer and stuff I should start a blog and I'm always up for a shameless excuse to talk about me! People say they're entirely honest on Facebook and blogs etc or that they say everything they think but it struck me that no one is really that honest online are they??
For example; why does no one ever have a status about their certain time of the month? Or, at the risk of being crude, if they had a really good poo. Come on, we all think 'Oh, that was a good one' but no one ever says it, or at least I only do to a very select group of friends who understand that I have no social boundaries whatsoever.
But why are some things acceptable to be open about, and other things not? And why only with certain friends? I have a best friend who, if there is a long queue in the loos, we'll go into the same cubicle together (albeit with a courtesy back-turn) but try that with my other friend from uni and suddenly it's: 'No you're bloody well not!'
So that's what's going to be in this blog. All the things that we wish we could say, or never even thought too share, because we are afraid to. But life's too short to be shy and so many things in life are hilarious or thought-provoking, why not share them? Probably there'll be other things such as books, films, and a whole host of nerdy/christian merriment (yes I am one of those...a nerd...) So stick around, it's probably going to be gross, or I'll likely forget the original intention and just prattle on about star wars. Either way, let's have fun :)
My sister said that if I want to be a brilliant writer and stuff I should start a blog and I'm always up for a shameless excuse to talk about me! People say they're entirely honest on Facebook and blogs etc or that they say everything they think but it struck me that no one is really that honest online are they??
For example; why does no one ever have a status about their certain time of the month? Or, at the risk of being crude, if they had a really good poo. Come on, we all think 'Oh, that was a good one' but no one ever says it, or at least I only do to a very select group of friends who understand that I have no social boundaries whatsoever.
But why are some things acceptable to be open about, and other things not? And why only with certain friends? I have a best friend who, if there is a long queue in the loos, we'll go into the same cubicle together (albeit with a courtesy back-turn) but try that with my other friend from uni and suddenly it's: 'No you're bloody well not!'
So that's what's going to be in this blog. All the things that we wish we could say, or never even thought too share, because we are afraid to. But life's too short to be shy and so many things in life are hilarious or thought-provoking, why not share them? Probably there'll be other things such as books, films, and a whole host of nerdy/christian merriment (yes I am one of those...a nerd...) So stick around, it's probably going to be gross, or I'll likely forget the original intention and just prattle on about star wars. Either way, let's have fun :)
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