19 August 2010

'You know when cows have 'piggybacks'? They're lesbians...'

SO, I've been working on a very special post for you guys. But it involves a lot of cropping of photos, which I 'haven't got round to' (I'm basically too lazy to wait for this slow ass computer to load anything), so this little (ahem) beauty will have to make do for now...

Firstly, I've been doing a lot of youtubing recently - searching for a few unknown gems for me to hog and rave about in a superior manner (until they make it big, when I die a little inside). I enjoy hoarding bands.
BUT, in doing so, I found this. It would be a crime for me to NOT show you. I play it on repeat a lot. Unlike the original overplayed song (Airplanes - one of the 'unknown gems' I found, in this case before it hit the charts. Though, I found part 2 which FYI is much better. It has eminem in. I showed it to a few people and they 'didn't like it', because it 'didn't suit' hayley williams. Now that it's internationally loved they play it on repeat. DAMN THEM.), it doesn't get old. Please only say nice things about them. It makes me cry when people reject the things I love to love.
Don't you just love the little airplanes at the end. Lovely touch I thought...

Secondly, I need a SIXTHFORM bag. Yes, I know 'sixthform' is just an extension of school. But I like to overexcite myself and fantasise to the extent that the actual event can in no way live up to my perfect version and then be bitter. I've found the perfect bag, but it costs £37 and the mother is only willing to pay £20. I'd subsidise, but I only have £15 to my name. Yes, that includes my bank account. Yes, that is shockingly disgusting. In my defence, in order to have an 'unbelievable' summer you have to have 'unbelivable' amounts of cash.

I just love patriotism (though often not for my actual country - I prefer other flags), and it's so in right now. PLUS my walking buddy, Adam, has a union jack bag (which I'm overly jealous of and would take from him if I was mean enough/ thought I could, in any way, get away with it) and this way we'd match. So, if anyone has any suggestions of where to get an equally snazzy bag with airs of sophistication (I'm in sixthform now remember. Actually I'm not. Results come out on Tuesday. I may have failed miserably and be left with only my £4 an hour Sunday job and prostitution), let me know...

SPEAKING OF results, my maths result comes out tomorrow. I did my GCSE last year and did an(extremely hard) FSMQ this year. That stands for Free Standing Maths Qualification. I know of many people that are freaking out, but, for once, I remain strangely calm. I guess I'm saving my worry sessions for the likely sleepless night I'm going to have on Monday/Tuesday. Plus, I know I've done awfully so have basically resigned myself to collecting the paper and then later setting fire to it. No, that's not me putting myself down. Nor am I being overly dramatic. IT WAS REALLY HARD.

I'm dreading Tuesday.
...although I may get a new laptop out of it. Fingers crossed for that one.
(I've written in small script in the hope that it will in some way metaphorically 'touch wood' and I will not be cursed with awful grades. We'll see how that one works out.)

In the immortal words of bugs bunny. THAT'S ALL FOLKS.

Ps. WELCOME NEW FOLLOWERS, VAMPIRE AND SESS. (look what a nice person I am to follow. I not only acknowledge each and every one of my new (and existing) followers, I also put a pretty little link in their name, to allow others to TRACK THEM DOWN.)

08 August 2010

'A Sunday well-spent brings a week of content'

Today, in a fit of boredom, I decided to measure my head. It's 21 and a half inches. Is that normal? I stopped short of looking it up.

Let me explain. Normally I work today and, having done so for the past two years, I've forgotten what to do on Sundays. Is there some code of conduct? I'm not religious, so there is no need to bring out the Sunday best. The reason I'm not at work is because my parents are away, so there's no Sunday Roast to prepare (mac and cheese is a much preferable option anyway.) Is there any point in Sundays? They seem rather benign. I have never longed for my (somewhat shitty) job as a waitress as much as I do now. My world has been turned upside down. On a Sunday. How ironic...

So blog, I turn to you in the hope that you can get me through the next 8 hours 35 minutes. Then it will be Monday. There's got to be something to do on Monday, right?

...my cat is twitching. I'm going to take that as a bad omen.

06 August 2010

'And I say hey (HEY!) what a wonderful kind of day, where you learn to work and play. And get along with each other...'

OKAY so firstly, an apology. Not for neglect, as they usually are, but this time for giving you FALSE INFORMATION (!). Having been to Ynot Festival (amazing stories ON THEIR WAY), and wearing my jacket basically all the time (it's quilted and therefore as cosy and warm as a hug with a loveable bear), I have come to the conclusion that it is NOT an NY Giants jacket as I was told (that's right. I WAS LIED TO. Either that or Mr. Absolute Vintage was as clueless as me). Unfortunately I am super gullible. As in, 'Hey Molly, I'm actually a teenage mutant ninja turtle' 'OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD. REALLY? YOU'RE MEAN, GREEN AND ON THE SCREEN?' style. So I didn't research the jacket until a considerable amount of doubt was cast. Anyway, in true English style, I wikipedia'd it. Turns out, it's a San Francisco Giant's Jacket (that's right. my Jacket gets a capital letter. Do you?) - the team transferred there from New York at the end of the 1957 season. So, I guess, it COULD be an NY Giants jacket, if it was pre-1957. But it feels more 80s/90s, if I'm honest. ANYWAY, it doesn't make me love it any less. Although it did link me to New YAWK, a place which, and excuse me for sound a little hippyish here, I feel I'm almost spiritually linked - I basically belong there. Whenever I see it on Tv (god, I sound so untraveled and boring), I feel like I'm there and I'm home. Not that there's anything wrong with Ashbourne (please don't use this as an opportunity to stalk me, and all other Molly's in Ashbourne) ...it's just a little narrow-minded here. The most cultural we get is people with Indian backgrounds. Then I hear my inner-Manchester situated cousins talking about their friends 'Koosha', 'Asad' and 'Lovely Day'. Not that there's anything cultural about the last one, I just find it horrendous that a child would be named such a thing. So, to summarise. It's a SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS JACKET AND I LOVE IT (despite it being more of a mouthful to say).

So, onwards and upwards, with the various delights of my life...

Most people would do things in chronological order, but I like to mix things up a little, so I'll work my way backwards (OH THE THRILL).

Y-not Festival. It was a roller coaster weekend of ups and downs, for sure. If I told you the downs in full, you may come to the misguided conclusion that I didn't have a good time (as my brother did: 'sounds like you had a rate shit time'). That would be a lie. So I'll tell you them quickly, in a monosyllabic tone (as far as is possible), in the hope that you will skim read and not get the wrong idea.

So, here, Ynot. Summed up in words, phrases and photos:

The Good:
Daisy Dares You (Honestly, she was purely AMAZING). Ok Go. Randomly taking part in a yoga class. The Quotes. Getting 11 out of 50 on a 'pub quiz'. The people. The late night drunken chats and times. Chica. Ritz crackers at 7am. Fancy dress. Meeting Jesus and his black and white cat. 18p white wine spritzer. Nachos. Circus tricks. 'When a guy's lined up for the portaloos with a bog roll, you know he's either off for a crafty wank or a shit.' Dancing to no music. Randomly bursting into song, only to have the whole campsite join in (especially when the 'song' was the theme tune from Arthur.) The Rash (local phenomenon). Blood red shoes. At the risk of sounding 'special': NEW FRIENDS. Running into people from Ynot'09. ARE YOU BUZZIN? ARE YOU LOVIN IT? Being with the guys who made unused condoms look used and then placed them strategically on unfortunate people. Watching the reactions of the aforementioned 'unfortunate people'. '...Ellie. I think I just pooed myself' (this is also one of the principal reasons why I will not do weed). Matt Dawson. SAN DIEGOOOOO. Rave Tent warmth. Drunken Sailor. A nice gesture from the mad hatter (the gesture shall remain unnamed at the risk of leaking info to REAL people (people I know)). Adopting weird items of clothing from weird people. The train driver. Choo choo. Adam Mckee && Issy Cecil (an almighty combo). 'I'm sorry... Ive just got to ask. Are you gay?' '...no' 'Aw man. Jusht. Jusht. Lemme give you a hug. Cause you're straight.' *this happened between 'Jonno' and Matt. Matt is most definitely gay. And camp with it.* 'Have you had a poo yet?' '...no. I'm a virgin'. Watching Adam get his stuff into the festival (video BELOW). WORKING the craaaaaaaaazy hats. The story of the girl who pooed in her hand (if you want to know more on that one just let me know. It sounds disgusting. It is. But it's also true hilarity). Just... EVERYTHING (apart from the bad. and the ugly. obviously. but other than that, EVERYTHING.)

The Bad:
One girl and her silly antics. The fact that our (once lovely) camp got crashed by bad people. Robbery. The price of food. Looking for the first aid tent in the dark and rain (an impossible task). Actually having to inject my wildly drunk diabetic friend. Sick. The portaloos. The BRIGHT ORANGE log of a poo IN one of the portaloos. Missing Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. Being (basically) molested. People whining. Expensive (and shit) sausage panini. BITCH BROKE MY SUNGLASSES. Having a (very high) person whom I barely know grab me and say 'THIS MY GIRLFRIEND' several times before slobbering on my face. And my hat. (i ran away). DERYN'S DIRTY SOCKS. It all being over for another year...

(okay so the monsyllabic thing didnt work out so great)

The Ugly:
Me. The whole weekend, I (apparently) looked awful. I only realised this AFTERWARDS. I'd like to blame this on lack of sleep, lack of showers and lack of mirrors. It would probably be more politically correct to blame it on my genes. Honestly, the photo evidence is so bad I may have to not show you it.
...I will, of course. But clicking 'publish post' will be a fight harder than anything Jaden Smith faces in Karate Kid, I promise you.

OBSERVE (and these are the 'good' ones).
The following photos aren't actually mine, as I was a silly bean and didn't take any (plus I had an irrational fear of taking expensive things with me. A fear that proved to be highly valid when the guy in the tent next to me had £30 and a tin of beans stolen from his tent), and actually belong to my beautiful friends. If you object to the fact that I stole your photos, please kindly comment and I will remove:

This is the first photo taken of the festival. It basically sums Adam up (note that he had only had ONE SIP of the scrumpy jack you see in the foreground. SHAMEFUL)

Grace (on the left) was amazing at hula hooping. Me? Not so much...

We attempted a triple two way. That would be 3 hoops and 2 girls. Yeah, it didn't work out so great...

We judge people on the way they say falafel. Say it with me: 'fa-LOHfull'

Adam and jelly. Really makes for a good photo. I later found some of that same jelly in my sleeping bag.

This is a highly disturbing thought.


My mouth looks weirdly deformed. BUT it's like an action shot. Lara Croft, eat yer heart out.

This is the SESS (pit). Looking almighty proud of herself.

My wellies are the ones with FACES on them. Love them.

PIMP (my face please)

This isn't just food. This is M'n'S food. LOL jk it's just food. Pretty tasty though.

Because he's worth it (?)

'You are the bluest light'.


Her Adorbz know no limits.


He works it like a polaroid picture. Ironically enough he shakes it like this too.

Please excuse the boobcrack. This photo basically sums up my weekend.

aaaaaand BAM! Erin looking irritatingly gorgeous. But we'll forgive her. Cause she's cool.

I swear that isn't even everything. But my weekend was amazing. I look back and smile. BAD BITS? What bad bits?

OKAY. Now we move on to my Grans 50th Wedding Anniversary. It was 'nice'. A chance to mingle with the old people of the world. BUT HEY HEY. My grandad gave me £50. Plus, it clearly made my Gran happy - and the weekend was about her (and my grandad, but hey. It was to celebrate a marriage, and the woman is always right and, let's face it, more important). Plus Plus (I already used plus) I got a new dress out of it. Its beautiful and from my new favourite shop, M Butterfly. You see that little link right there? Click it. You'll never look back. At first I thought it was just a little one off shop. It's run by these really cute Japanese people and the shop just seemed so 'them'. It was only when I got home that I realised it was a chain. This made me happy - now I can order online! Speaking of butterflies, check out what I found whilst munching on a packet of cinema sweet popcorn and watching 'The taking of Pelham 123' (which, by the way, is very hard to take seriously. The principal bad guy was John Travolta. I've seen him in leather pants and dressed as a woman. He's so not bad.)

It's a piece of popcorn that looks like a butterfly. I snapped it. Then I ate it. I love little things that make you appreciate life.

OKAY, so opinion time. A lot of my friends have been doing the thirty days of truth thing. Reading their answers, I started to envisage my own. So, sad as I am, I began writing them down in a notebook. I'm now up to day 6, but I'm not sure whether to publish or not. PLEASE, if you have an opinion, advise me. Do you want to know the ins and outs of my mind , or would you rather stay away from that pit of despair? (NB. it's not really a pit of despair, it just sounded poetic). I originally only started it as an exercise to 'discover' myself - as I feel that that was basically the point of the 30 days of truth. Not to tell other people how you feel, or use it as an attention seeking devise (JUST SO YOU KNOW, by saying that I'm thinking of no names - it's just a thought. I don't want to come across as an attention seeking whore), but to find it out about yourself. So. To publish, or not to publish? That is the question...

FINALEMENT, I would like to welcome my new followers. Actually, as this is something I have (rudely) never done before, I guess I should welcome ALL of my followers. Seriously, all 13 of you guys make me happy. So head on over to that little box to the right named 'beautiful people' and have a look at everyone because they're all awesome. With a capital A (oh the irony!).

Now please enjoy this video of Adam struggling his way into Ynot. I know I do:

Having looked through that post, I realise that I WAY overuse brackets. For this I apologise (I started with an apology and ended with one. What a nice ironic little wrap-up).