August Rush

Hell's testicles.

2011-06-26T20:52:00.000+01:00

That's how warm it is.

Do you know Chas & Dave? They did that Rabbit song.

I lit them (well... minus Dave these days...) last week. Twenty songs that all sounded like the rabbit song - it was just about kinda sorta awesome. Buuuut of course it's music festival season here so I haven't been doing a hell of a lot workwise.

Well, except from ze day job, where my hours have been so massively cut that I spent most of last week in bed. But, I got a bonus, which is nice but it's the direct result of having premium wages cut. Balls.

But, what to spend with this money? I could be a massive big girl and not buy the blue Nintendo 3DS that I have been covetting since the dawn of time, or I could splurge and buy everything on my Amazon wishlist.

Decisions, decisions.

In the meantime, I have therapy advice and it is thus..

Angry tweeting is SO theraputic.

There's a drumming noise inside my head, it starts when you're around...

2011-06-19T02:24:00.000+01:00

Sorry, had to quote a bit o' Florence there. That song's been following me around for weeks like the plague's nicer, more bookish cousin. You know the one.

Alas, I hath returned. And I have an alibi.

Remember my shitty laptop? It caught a virus which caught another virus which then caught a virus that downloaded viruses which made it download a virus that left my internet security swinging wiiiiiide (Nice lock. Pity the door's open.) open and so on and so on so that I got all frustrated and eventually associated everything to do with the laptop as evil, upsetting and expensive. And so the blog got put to the side whilst I used my shitty 14-year-old computer for three months. And then I bought a new laptop after Matt totalled mine by 'fixing' it and here we are.

Thrilling. I know.

So what's new? I totally missed this instragram thing. And LiLu has a name (The pwettiest name I ever heard) and Ask The Bloggess disappeared and CRAP. So much missed.

Me? I hit eighteen and got some tattoos. I'm a frickin' adult now. Rawk.

Tattoos: Boobage (Ow-fuckety-ow) and shoulder blade (Mmmm...)

Click to enlarge, I guess.

Oh. And I got into college. Woopah! And debt, but that's another story. But not a long one so here: I got a storecard from work out of the goodness of my heart and now I owe too much money (I hate owing money) and the deadline is like 4 days before payday with 30% interest on the total amount. Oooshit.

But that is a basic summary of events, anyway. I'll blog again soon when I'm not caught between two-to-four jobs. Ciao!

18th June.

2011-06-18T01:51:00.000+01:00

I'm baa-aaack...

Flash Bang.

2011-04-08T23:48:00.000+01:00

Seething, dear people! Seething!!

I was about to light an aged rocker the other night at work (the one where I'm a lighting technician with full creative license, not the one where I'm a slave to the customers' every want and need) and was told by one of their crew that I wasn't allowed to do this, or that, or even this, and not even a tiny bit of that. God no.

I love lighting, I love the set up, the co-ordination, the complete, unwavering, exhausting concentration and the technical stuff right down to the tiny details, but I cannot stand not being able to go wild with the lights (within reason, I wouldn't use lasers and strobe lights during a ballad or anything). My middle name is practically Flash-Bang, for God's sake.

[From LightingDesignOnline.com]

I had to stand there for four hours, flushing out the back of the stage with three colours in a cycle. No flashing drum-rise, no flooding out the venue with pink, purple and blue light, no filling the stage with a different colour from each side, pulsing to the music, just fading red, green and blue in the background whilst the front of the stage stayed white and boring. Hell, I didn't even get to use the smoke machine! The horror!

Muchos Grr.

Just wait until I get my pyrotechnics license and THEN they'll be sorry.

BOOM.

Bloooooood. Say it with me. Bloooooooooooooooooooooooood.

2011-03-26T23:44:00.000Z

Saturday is the new Thursday apparently. I've spent the last three days trying to get my files off the bobbing turd that is my laptop. And so, Saturday. Hi.

I went to the blood place and they weren't even there!!

It was in a church-esque place, which is enough to turn me to stone anyway, but I asked a woman the the desk if there was a blood donar thing going on today and her reaction looked eerily like this.

"Maybe at the Merchant Hall but certainly not here, young lady."

To which I thought, "Jehovah's Witness? Oops."

And so I took my blood home and fed it lots of chocolate.

My college interview is booked! Mum was sneaking around my house and found the letter. And opened it. And then told me all about it after work before I'd even had chance to close the car door. Muchos excitement. I'd be pissy about my mum opening my mail but I opened hers, annotated it, and told Facebook all about it.

Get with the times, Mum.

The Charity Post.

2011-03-22T02:48:00.000Z

*cough*

A few weeks ago I got this scary letter from my beloved National Health Service:

Truly. It's love.

So I signed up. It's not like I'm using my blood right now or anything. And I'm giving blood for the first time this Thursday. But a friend told me that she had tried and they told her her blood wasn't heavy enough, whatever that means. So I'm full of questions:

What if I don't have enough blood? (I'm very pale and last time the doctors took blood from me, my arm started slurping.)

What if my blood is too heavy?

Shitballs, what if I have fat blood?

Fatty-fat fat blood. This is the best weightloss scheme I've had in a loooong time.

What if my blood turns out to be like.. black or something. How do I explain that I'm inherently evil?

Will I get a lollypop for being a big brave girl?

And so on. More on Thursday when I've braved syringe-wielding nurses and an hour of intense questioning about my medical history. Joy unbound.

Another thing I'm doing: Race For Life 2011 for Cancer Research UK. It's not the running around the racecourse all day or the vast amount of fundraising I mean to do before it that is the real chore for me. It's the pink. I have to wear pink! Blar.

I'll survive. I've seen a fantastic "Fuck Cancer" t-shirt on Amazon that I'm gonna wear like the less-than-discreet idiot I am.

And finally! Comic Relief: Red Nose Day. Something that creeps up on the Beeb (apparently that's Street for "the BBC") every year and it's usually awesome. I donated the last of my dwindling funds to them after David Tennant made me cry. Because he cried. Meanie. It's awesome. Peter Kay's done a comedy single with Susan Boyle for it. Definitely worth a peek for shits and giggles. And all for a good cause. *wink*

Wargh.

2011-03-13T01:36:00.000Z

All my little programs at the bottom of the screen are in the wrong order. I AM SO CONFUSED.

Wargh! Ten days?! How did that happen?

.. I have been thinking of you. Little blog baby's readers. Whilst I sit here in my freezing little (council) house somewhere in Northern England, freezing my lady-balls off, I've been trying to come up with something vaguely interesting to blog about.

The result? Nil. Nix. Nada.

I just finished a three-day stint at one of the local venues. In the last three days I've lit twelve bands and have the scars to prove it. One hand has seized up because of an unfortunate incident with a can of baked beans and a faulty can opener and the other is cramping because of the lighting controls.

The first night? My hands were so cold I couldn't keep the buttons pressed down at the right times.

The second night? I found the solution:

Multicoloured woolly wrist warmers. Bliss.

The third night? The music was awesome, the coke was less watered down than usual, and my hands were toasty warm.

Cheers.

College.

2011-03-03T22:12:00.000Z

..I know. I rock the titles.

In the last two months I’ve gone from holding two jobs to barely having one. Sod’s law, my hours were cut at Job #1 just after I quit Job #2. So I’ve gone from having two days off in as many months to working six hours a week.

..Leaves a helluva lot of time to do a lot of nothing. I’ve spent the last month in and around my bed, waking up at 3pm, eating shit, watching crap TV, forgetting to get my hair cut, bored but not motivated to do anything to change that. Basically, about three levels away from the circle of hell I was in this time last year. But there’s no point flogging a dead horse.

So, what do we propose, reader(s)?

Let’s go... To College!

I’ve been toying with the idea of going to college and doing a production arts course (think lighting/sound technician meets stage design) at some point and here whilst I have the time, I went to an open evening at college to check it out.

Looks. Frickin’. Awesome!

There’s a tiny problem involving applications, references, interviews, deadlines, only-three-remaining-places and, aw hell, a big wad of problems, but I’m being optimistic.

I’ve been stepping in as a lighting technician at some local venues for extra money and it’s all good experience. It’s something I enjoy doing, and getting paid definitely helps.

I've been staying awake until 4 or 5am every night/morning so when Mum woke me up at 9am I wasn't all that happy about it. First thing I said this morning? "I can't see."

..I function so well on four-and-a-half hours of sleep.

But this morning I phoned up my old school and asked for a reference, coke in hand, expecting to have to talk my way into it. Aaaand I didn't. The conversation was over in less than three minutes. That's the least time I have ever spent arguing with a teacher. (Much appreciated)

So it's all out of my hands now. Just have to sit around and wait to hear back from the college.

*Gulp*

I know. I'm shocked too.

2011-03-02T22:09:00.001Z

Horrified that I left a post about pool lanes fester at the top of my blog for a full month. What a crappy subject, I mean, really, Nicole? Nothing better to write about? Nothing? Nothing at all?

[Courtesy of the niiiice kitties at icanhazcheezburger.com]

Well. Bugger me.

We're in March now. J. H. Christ, how did that happen? I've been in bed for the last week. Not enough trade to justify my presence at work. Nice to see I have a life outside of work.

There's just one tiny thing I need to get off my chest:

First of all, aren't we all just SO excited about the royal wedding? I mean, OMG, it's SO EXCITING. So happy I could just bleed to death, right here at my desk. Grr. It's all I hear about. MSN actually has a page dedicated to every. little. sordid. detail. And if I see one more TV advert for a Royal Wedding Decorative Plate, I may just die. Twice.

...Though the condoms they made were pretty damn funny.

On the plus side, the prince is going bald. I swear he's not even thirty yet.

/End Transmission/

Seattle is back on the agenda! Looks set to be some time in 2013 (And I'll be twenty years old. Shit.). Norway-Sweden-Finland next summer - The Great Roadtrip me and Hubs have been planning for ages.

Slovenia (woot woot!) this summer. I can't remember if I've talked about Slovenia, but I do miss it. I miss the warmth and the torrential downpours and thunderstorms and huge vegetables and delicious fruit in my great-aunt's garden. I miss the dogs, Sena and Ika, I miss speaking Slovene. I miss my auntie Katra and her excellent cooking and her casual swearing.

And also I've applied to college. Though that gives me fuel for tomorrow, so I'll go into that then.

Ta-ta for now.

Pool Politics

2011-02-05T22:02:00.000Z

I spend a helluva lot of time at the pool these days. It's free with the gym membership so I've got no excuse not to really. Forty lengths yesterday (the pool closed early, but I got time in before the toddlers came and yellowed up the water) and 160 today to make up for it, leaving me aching in strange places; the back of my neck, the sole of my left foot, my wrists.

Also absolutely starving. Not in a normal way, but in a way where I can feel some part of my digestive system tugging on my poor stomach shouting (in a Scottish accent) "We need more power!" but as usual, I've only had time to throw down a bowl of cereal or possibly something once resembling sushi (I loooove my sushi).

So I was swimming away today, counting down the lengths until I was finished for the day (not all that reassuring when you're stuck in the nineties, let me tell you) when three assholes drop into my lane.

You know the type, you've seen them in the street. The type of family that has a nice-looking, indulgent mum, and ignorant husband and a teenage son who's going the same way as his dad. The fast-and-furious lane is free to the highest bidder and yet they choose my lane (who I'm sharing with a nice lady in her forties) to start splashing about and zooming from one end to the other, blinding and dismembering all who dare to get in their way.

Assholes.

Mum is letting Dad and Son do whatever the hell they want, including crashing into Nice Lady. I stop swimming and give them The Evils, which isn't so effective when the receiving party is wearing goggles - you gotta have that eye contact or it's just one-sided and sad.

In any case, me and Nice Lady shuffle along to the fast-and-furious lane (what a larf) and eventually it's just me and the dad of the family battling it out.

I cannot swim in the lanes without starting a little fight with someone. It's totally possible that I'm the real asshole. Probable, even. Yesterday it was a superfit granny who hadn't taken her tights off before getting into the pool. Today it was Father Hole. 130 lengths in and I was still faster than the guy. He left the pool for the flumes a few minutes later, disgraced by an overweight 17-year-old with orange hair.

I came to one conclusion in the next seventy lengths.

Nicole Smith, Fat, Fast and Furious.

The belated London post.

2011-01-23T00:18:00.000Z

Two weeks ago I mooched down to London to meet one of my friends and it was faaaab.

Yes. Faaaab is a word you all should recognise.

I was very, very tired because evil Work #2 wouldn't let me swap my hours so I was at work at 6am til noon before I could pack my bags and get on the train.

Leaving out details, I got some good pictures.

Big Ben

Cleopatra's Needle

Inexplicable Sphinx

Trafalgar Square

Bonus Shot: York shares my madness

My scarily streetwise dad took me around more or less all of the main places in London on the Sunday, leaving me exhausted and craving a bed that didn't shake when the people in the room next door started boinking. Where is the justice?

So that was all two weeks ago. Since then, True Blood Season 3 aired on FXUK and my life has once again been complete (which pisses my boyfriend off no end because Eric Northman is 'serious competition' and uh.. Swedish. Silly boy.) Also, the first of the 18th's has arrived. Denny on the 17th, then Mo-Balls, then MEEEE, then Hooker, then Lemon. And then we can all go drinking in town without having to steal Hooker's brother's ID. Hell yeah.

Finally, gym update: I've been, oh... twice..? in six weeks. So I need to work on that. At this point, any way is up. Here goes.

'Sup?

2011-01-01T00:00:00.000Z

Work work work work money money money money spend spend spend spend angry mother angry mother angry mother angry mother.

It's half an hour until midnight and I am *this* close to dying on my arse.

Well, my dears, I tried working two jobs. The term is "Fuck that shit".
This last month has been nice and (barely) rewarding, I'm going to London next week to spend my hard-earned cash and such'n'such. I love my first job more than ever these days, but Job #2? Not so much. It's stuck up, it's bitchy and the customers are all vulgar.

For the record I'm not overly bothered about been Dooced.

Last week I was told I was wrong for calling out a customer for hitting her four-year-old. I'd say people talk about me behind me back but usually I'm next to them, in front of them, or being the one they're talking to. About me. And my orange hair (long story). And about how apparently I cannot do anything right. And any damn thing they can pick on to distract from their own sad, sordid little lives.

GAHHHH.

On a lighter note, I bought a curling iron (a good one) for £9.99 in the sales. I KNOW RIGHT! That's an abstract way of saying I. Cannot. Stop. Spending. You'd think I'd spend enough time in shops at work but noooo.. It's an affliction.

I said I joined the gym.. I've been once since. £40 a month is enough incentive to start going there so I need a better New Year's Resolution. Perhaps "Stop eating fuckloads of crap". Apt enough because I'm currently torn between making a pasta salad and running to the takeaway whilst the streets are dead (T minus ten minutes until midnight).

So, I guess I should some goodbyes to 2010:

*ahem*

2010,

Interesting year you threw at me, what with the crippling depression, the dropping-out-of-school-ness, the crappy job, the stupid parents, the most recent Charlaine Harris book (that's a good thing by the way), the change of staff at Work #1 that makes me giggle, the many gallons of coke I have consumed, GREGGS FESTIVE PASTIES! (=D), my awesome not-boyfriend. I want to say that you fucking sucked. That you made swine flu look good, AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING, swine flu. What the hell? Buuuut, it wasn't so bad. It was.. interesting.

Thanks for an interesting year, dummy.

Midnight!

Cardigan Bonanza.*

2010-12-12T23:50:00.000Z

*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.

2010-11-21T22:43:00.000Z

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.

2010-11-18T22:28:00.000Z

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?

2010-11-06T20:25:00.000Z

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.

2010-10-30T20:13:00.000+01:00

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.

The Filling And The Carbon-dated Toothbrush*

2010-10-22T00:09:00.001+01:00

*Which Stephen Fry has since informed me is made from coal and water and oxygen. Thou Shalt Not Question Stephen Fry.

Alors.. Today I had to go to... The Dentists.

I appreciate flowers, monetary donations and cards from well-wishers. Industrial-size bricks from those who wish me harm. Thank you.

I had to go get a filling because even at the strange age of seventeen I still need dentists to tell me that coke is baaad.. ('Tis bullshit, I'm convinced.)

I refused the injection because 'I don't like needles' - not entirely true. I just don't like needles THERE - and got an absolutely repulsed look from the assistant nurse when she saw my right ear**/*** and it all got worse from there.

So he started drilling and hacking away at my tooth without a care in the world whilst I - unnumbed and with very, very sensative teeth (OH MY GOD STOP BLAMING THE COKE) - shrieked and jumped and had to be held down by the assistant (who I suspect may have had army training in the last four years) until it was over. I swear she nearly broke my nose shoving the weird sunglasses they use on my face.

So. That put me off sugar for all of three hours. Now I want to be an erotic baker. More on that as it happens.

**My right ear.. just for you.

***And my left ear, just for the hell of it.

Hang on a second, I'm applying for a job.

2010-10-18T22:45:00.000+01:00

Right. And now I'm just waiting for one of my managers on Facebook chat to give me a reference.

I are professional.

Furthermore, message to a manager on Facebook goes as follows:

---

Nicole Smith, where HAVE you been?!

No idea. Just not blogging.

This weekend I went to see Rach for her birthday and ate a massive meal followed by delicious cake followed by a chocolate fountain and... so... much... food... that I'm still dying a little. But I don't have any pictures because my camera is dead. RIP, buddy.

Not much has been happening around here. I've been expanding my musical horizons which is actually a code for Spending All My Money That I Haven't Got Yet Buying Opeth Albums And Such.

Rawr.

Anyhow. I still don't have much to write about, as you can see.

Someone thinks you've failed.

2010-10-04T23:16:00.000+01:00

"This is the right decision."

"No one thinks you've failed."

"No one is judging you."

"No one thinks any less of you."

"No one thinks you're incapable of achieving these things."

"You're not dropping out, you're moving on."

I haven't been to school since January. At first it was just a sickness, then it was a weight, and then it was paralysis, and I'd fall and fall and just when I thought I'd hit the bottom, I slipped and I kept falling.

I went from Under The Weather to Under The World in a very short space of time.

I remember squeezing my eyes tight shut against the feeling in my head, in my hands, behind my ribs and under my hair. I remember waking up feeling voided. I remember my head being too swamped with this thing to feel anything. No grief, no happiness. I lost the ability to retain information. I couldn't percieve what people were saying. I couldn't remember the slightest things and some days I couldn't speak.

There is no feeling like depression. It's not grief, it's not pain. The way it creeps in, slows you down, smothers you and soaks "you" up. It's like walking through oil.

And recently with some medical help the consistancy is changing into something a little more manageable.

The pills help. The talking, not so much. Both are absolutely draining.

Today I went from being on sick leave to actually dropping out of sixth form.

"No one is judging you."

"No one thinks any less of you for this."

I've spent months killing myself thinking that I have to go back, that I'll get nowhere without passing those exams and that I have years of the same thing sprawled infront of me.

I don't.

I don't have to do what they say. I don't have to do everything their way.

I can do what I damn well please, and it has taken me ages to realise this.

So here's so me ending my time in school and moving onto something else.

I'm not fixed yet, that's not even on the horizon. But I'm on my way.

About Fucking Time.

Disaster.

2010-10-01T23:16:00.000+01:00

Today I came home from a raaather interesting day in and around school (I have a DIRECTION now, y'all) to find my room in this state:

The shelf fell down and my books? EVERYWHERE. How many times did I croon "Oh My Gawwd..."? Sixty seven.

Luckily I had my trusty Denny with me, so we broke out the shot glass chess and drowned our sorrows (well, half of them. Half of the shots were water).

And that is the highly editted story of my day.

Quote Of The Day: "I'm wet and hungry and it's hot and long and I want to eat it and I don't like it!" - "Well, that's not something SHE would say."

And so it ends.

2010-09-30T23:43:00.000+01:00

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!

2010-09-29T21:44:00.000+01:00

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.

28th.

2010-09-28T23:52:00.000+01:00

Pay day.

Two days left of NaBloPoMo.

The day of the month where I spent too much on too little.

One month until Cleo's birthday.

Shopping.

Piercings.

Ouchy-ness.

No sleep.

The 28th is pretty much the same every month.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..

2010-09-27T22:45:00.000+01:00

Purely because I'm doing my Christmas shopping a few months early this year.

And so far I've bought stuff for me and stuff for Cleo and that's about it.

Sorry guys, there won't be a Christmas this year.

Believe it or not, that is all.

Just sleeping.

2010-09-27T00:55:00.000+01:00

It's my first day off in five/six days so today I had one of my trademark duvet days which more or less involves me sleeping, eating, sleeping some more and then listening to music until dawn and being totally dead the next day.

It's never a good mirror day though. My hair's a mess, I have eyeliner I forgot to wash off clouding my eyes, my eyes are bleary from sleeping, I slur my words, I move slowly, I don't get dressed and I'm a total asshole to all who approach me.

They're good days.

It also helps with the overall mood of the day that I'm a few days south of pay day. It's the same every month, around the 25th I start getting restless and zoom around Amazon UK adding and subtracting from my wishlist, putting all sorts of things in my basket (TWSS) with pretty much no restraint.

I made a cool investment this month though.

.Shot glass chess set.

I'm fucking awesome at chess. And drinking. And spending.

This is obviously meant to be.

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

2010-09-25T21:44:00.000+01:00

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.

I are clever.

2010-09-24T23:55:00.000+01:00

I have been on my feet for 10 hours, but I will not rest!

Behold:

.Click.

Yes. That is Nicole's spanking new Videojug site for body piercing.

Let's see how this one turns out.

No rest for the wicked.

2010-09-23T23:13:00.000+01:00

Christmas shopping:

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

Talks.

2010-09-22T23:25:00.015+01:00

Done a lot of talking today..

Both my psychologist and my psychiatrist are leaving, which must mean that I'm hopeless. And I've been asked to attend a half-term clinic for the possibly psychotic.

I'm fine, by the way.

My shrink thinks I should leave sixth form entirely. I partially agree. My A-levels have really run their course. But I don't want to start anything else academic right now. We talked about what I could do instead. I wanted to look into teaching access courses and body piercing training. A nice (suitably destructive) mix.

Tomorrow I'm going into school for a careers interview. I'm trying to convince myself that I don't have to do anything yet, that I can remain as inert as I please for now and that I'm not wasting time, but I still feel thrown into stuff.

I listen and listen and listen. And don't listen, a lot. But people are trying to move me on faster than I want to move, which is next to nothing.

In the news

2010-09-21T23:24:00.000+01:00

By the way...

Sliced bread's got nothin' on this mofo.

2010-09-20T22:33:00.000+01:00

My dad has just come home from scouting for a video location and with him came two amazing things...

I got one of them. And the magical thing is this:

Yes. That is a Smirnoff bottle cooler-jacket with built-in speakers.

Yes. They work like a dream.

Yes. They keep my vodka cool.

No. You don't put it in the fridge.

But yes. Smirnoff-vodka-cooler-jacket-speakers.

Smirnoff, I salute you.

We can dance, we can dance the night away.

2010-09-19T14:52:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was a loooong day.

It all started on Friday night, which was awesome, awesome, and really really awesome, and I got no sleep, and then I went to work on Saturday feeling very happy and tired and hyper and stuffs. THEN I got home and sat down for maybe a minute before taking off to see Panic Room at The Duchess.

Le awesome. Free drinks (for me, mwahaha), awesome people, awesome band/support bands, all spells for a good night. My dad was given the top-secret-hush-hush promo copy of Mostly Autumn's new album and we went home to listen to it (which reminds me, I have something awesome to show you tomorrow) 'through vodka', which is what I'll show you tomorrow.. I suck at surprises.

Also, it's probably still Jassie's birthday! Puh-leeeeez head over and hump her leg and tell her she's the best asshole ever, because she totally is. =)

Overly complicated.

2010-09-18T23:57:00.000+01:00

Working the lights.

To do.

2010-09-17T23:44:00.000+01:00

Read Fragile Things

Redecorate bathroom
- Find naked man shower curtain
- Funky toilet seat

Finish Neverwhere DVD series

Successfully get at least one of my friends a job at work this Christmas.

Start driving lessons (Sooooon! ^^)

Stop my car from dying on its arse. Again.

Start epic piercing training.

Stop binge eating. Stat.

Don't lie. This is hysterical.

2010-09-16T22:22:00.000+01:00

I am sorry for the people who got hurt. Karma may punch me in the face. It's still funny.

This is a public announcement

2010-09-15T23:18:00.000+01:00

..About my mum's boobs.

My lovely lovely mother whoisreadingovermyshoulderrightnowsendhelp is very lovely.

I've been dying of a grizzly infection which has left me bed-ridden (or hobbling around at work, grimacing) and in constant discomfort so my lovely lovely mother made me a nice hot water bottle because my feet were cold, and when she was sealing it, she squeezed it, caused a geiser, and scalded her boobs.

Le ouch.

Scalded as in, red, sore, blisters and everything. The whole shebang of boob-burns.

All hail my mother, who not only braved evil mastitis when I was a baby, but has now had her boobs poached so I could have warm feet.

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

2010-09-14T22:03:00.000+01:00

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.

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGMUCHLOVE.

2010-09-13T22:21:00.000+01:00

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?

Below the blue.

2010-09-12T19:18:00.000+01:00

I've been having too many bad days.

Work is bad. Home is bad. Time goes slowly and I sleep and sleep.

What am I supposed to write about?

Well, this is awkward.

2010-09-11T20:51:00.000+01:00

One-day hiatus from NaBloPoMo me thinks.

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

2010-09-10T23:19:00.001+01:00

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.

2010-09-09T22:03:00.000+01:00

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.

I am sailing, I am sailiiiing..

2010-09-08T22:08:00.000+01:00

Please, please, I beg of you, please share with me in the hilarity of this video:

(Courtesy of LiveLeak via The Bloggess)

Oh My God I Hate That Song.

2010-09-07T12:05:00.000+01:00

Here in L'Angleterre our children (I have four) are subjected to singing assemblies at school.

NB: This is where we are all forced to stand up, stare at terribly cheesy lyrics and sing along to terribly cheesy music whilst hating ourselves and watching our lives glide away as fast as they can.

Example:

Conkers, lots of lovely conkers
I'm trying hard to find the biggest and the best

A particularly quirky tune about conkers. I hate conkers now.

Then there was 'cum bi arrrrr' that eventually turned into '2 pi r' in year 10 maths because we all want to know the circumference of a circle. It's definitely preferable.

Then there was a particularly haunting song about school rules.. Which was hysterical just because it was terrifying.

Don't tell tales and don't tell lies
Don't be cheeky or unkind
...We're learning...We're learning...

Scary as hell, even without the tune.

I'm only saying this because my household is finally free of these horrors. Cleo, God rest her soul, has started my terrifying school that made me all depressed and shit and let me tell you, singing in assembly? Punishable by death.

Good luck Cleo. May the odds be ever in your favour.

Dead man walking.

2010-09-06T17:15:00.000+01:00

I feel like I should explain why I - me, who doesn't actively go to school and works a couple of days a week - am sucking so badly at posting everyday, even though I'm online anyway.

I'm DYING.

Everytime I take my crazy pills (every morning) I have a few hours of normal just-woken-up tiredness before they make me all exhausted and I have to sleep and sleep and sleep to feel normal again which just makes my day run later and later until it's past midnight and uhh shit, I've missed the deadline again.

On Saturday I stayed in bed and started/finished Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins. I've been waiting for that book for the best of a year so it was awesome before I even read it. I cried like a baby towards the end.

I flying-hugged a postman because he brought me five packages in three days.

I woke up with one of my (..eight..) earrings embedded in my ear. Lovely.

I'm totally addicted to Amazon.co.uk. I have the world's longest wishlist. I'm slowly buying my way through it.

And finally I'm about to indulge in Chinese-style sticky chicken. Wish me luck.

My little pony.

2010-09-05T23:34:00.000+01:00

I'm really sorry I'm sucking so bad at NaBloPoMo. I promise I'll sit down tomorrow and tap out a decent post.

In the meantime.. Pony!

Pop art attack.

2010-09-04T22:53:00.000+01:00

Alors.. I'm in a rush.

Pop-art Nicole. (Done on MS Paint - worship me, bitches)

That's better.

2010-09-03T21:07:00.002+01:00

You're all insane.

2010-09-02T23:01:00.000+01:00

Dear stupid, stupid people.

Why in Ghandhi's name did I see you hovering a million miles above York this morning?

Are you buttfucked? It was freezing cold on the ground and yet you go up in a hot-air balloon at SEVEN IN THE MORNING with a very sporradic heating system and a view of fog on an already bleak-looking York.

You fools!

Don't let me catch you at it again.

Regards,

Nicole K Smith CE.

Art Bart Cart Dart Eart Fart. parrrrp

2010-09-01T23:02:00.000+01:00

I'm giving NaBloPoMo another stab (*stab* *stab* *stab* WAR CRY) this month and it'll be my ~~fourth~~ fifth (fucking hell) NaBloPoMo, so as my über-Führer boss-man would say, "Let's all get behind this please".

Kidding. You have my full permission to ignore my ramblings for the full month.

The theme be ART. I like ART. Particularly body art but I'm pretty sure you've heard all about that by now.

I've been getting many many packages lately. Yesterday I got two, today I got two. Tomorrow I'll probably get two more. Heil Amazon. (Note to self: Stop it with the Nazi references)

I'm probably world famous for my Amazon wishlist. I spent all month Windows (C) shopping (oh har har..) and as soon as I get paid, usually before lunchtime on the very same day, I spent at least £160 (about $200) on things I've hoarded on Amazon, and then get über restless whilst I wait for them to arrive. It was even worse this time because they very conveniently placed a bank holiday RIGHT where my delivery would've been. The slags.

So that's all from me for now. I'm feeling way too controversial today.

Church-burning thundercunts*

2010-08-28T22:43:00.000+01:00

*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.

Round-up.

2010-08-23T14:48:00.000+01:00

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.

Dearest Blog-baby.

2010-08-19T23:00:00.001+01:00

So I totally forgot my blog's birthday.

3 whole years and I totally forgot.

Happy late birthday, blog-baby!

You more or less count as a blog-toddler now.

Blogmamma xx

Miniature disasters and minor catastrophes.

2010-08-07T00:15:00.000+01:00

I'll be honest, I suck at writing about the big stuff that happens, so there probably won't be a Sonisphere recap that is anything other than pictures of me in my festival hat (worship it..), awesome hair and my cool-person shades.

Fig. 1 - all of the above.

I might just leave it at that. Sonisphere was awesome. I met Lacuna Coil (!), I saw Alice Cooper, Iron Maiden and a million other fab bands in one weekend and got pissed off my tits every other night religiously.

Captain! Iceberg ahead!

Ahem.

SURPRISE BONG TENT!

Aaaanyway. This was meant to be a few tidbits of random shizzle that's been a-happenin', so yeah.

I got my seventh, eighth and ninth piercings yesterday. Two helix piercings (upper ear) and a lower naval piercing. I got chatting to my piercer (who is awesome and funny and I love him and OMG SO AWESOME) and he said he'd take me on as an apprentice for three thousand pounds.

That's reasonable I think. It's £1500 for an intensive 11-day course in Oxfordshire. £3000 for three years as an apprentice in my favourite shop in the world where I'll be learning something I love seems too awesome to be true.

And I'm going to Slovenia in four days for exactly one tweeble which looks to be awesome, too.

Alors.. I shall see you when I get back if not before I set off. Adios!

I must stay away. I have enemies. Dangerous, too-sane enemies.

2010-08-03T15:40:00.000+01:00

Hola!!

I'm back from Sonisphere and chillin' at Rach's house.

Blogging shall resume when I can form coherent words, because it was THAT good. Delain, Turisas, Europe, Alice Cooper, Lacuna Coil, Papa Roach, Apocalyptica, Tim Minchin, Good Charlotte, Skunk Anansie, Placebo, Motley Crue, Rammstein, Renegades, Madina Lake, Skindred, Dir En Grey, Slayer, Bring Me The Horizon, Alice In Chains, The Cult, Pendulum, Iggy & The Stooges and Iron FUCKING Maiden.

I more or less died of happiness/drunkeness, and THAT is why I cannot blog.

Adios.

New hair.

2010-07-27T23:49:00.000+01:00

What do we think?

I went to get it cut and it was a TOTAL disaster so I had a panic attack or two and then went to the supermarket and stocked up on hair dye.

Fuck yeah, red hair.

Sonisphere is in two days and I'm not exactly prepared. The tent is bought but hasn't been set up yet, I've got all the hygiene-stuffs I could ever need, I've stocked up on medicine. I haven't sorted out how I'm getting back yet and I still need to confirm how I'm getting there but once again, my dad is off-site.

GAAAAH.

See you when I get back, assuming I don't explode.

The walls fall down.

2010-07-22T01:47:00.001+01:00

None of the remotely cheerful today. I'm not in the mood.

Hey, how are you?

I'm great, thanks, you?

I'm..

..So tired I made myself sleep until 6pm to pass the day. A day filled with nothing. A day that I wanted that way because I'm not just tired, I'm drained mentally, physically and emotionally because *it's* always there, not doing anything, just crushing and draining and demanding.

..So wrecked I burst into tears in the shower. I can only be so happy for everyone else.

..So immobile that I lied and said that I couldn't go to meet with my most favourite people ever because I was shifting furniture. I was sat in my room.

..An awful friend. But not enough to care. Which is where I know that I'm not 'Me' as I want to be anymore.

..Full of hate and anger and frustration and misery that just sits and seethes in all the awkward places. At the back of my neck, in my knees and elbows, under my fingernails, in every pore and joint.

..Sure that I've lost the best thing I had going for me.

..Aware that I've got so much worse that even a dose high enough to soothe pretty severe depression has become 'not nearly enough'. I have to see a psychologist, a doctor and a psychiatrist regularly, which sucks butt because they're looking for stuff that just isn't there.

..Not even bored.

I'm fine, thanks.

Three times a tweeble.

2010-07-20T03:05:00.000+01:00

Stemming from here:

Nicole: Be right back.
Rach: Still alive?
Nicole: Just brb-ing for provisions.
            I'm going to write a blog post if it kills me.
Rach: lol about what.
Nicole:No idea. Need inspiration, so.. brb. =)
Rach: Chimps drinking tea?
Nicole: BE RIGHT BACK, RACH!
            But yeah. I like that.
            ...Brb..

So, way back then, I had a rough idea of how I'd stumble through another post. Now I'm sat brooding because everyone else makes it look so easy and now, at the tender age of seventeen, all I see and want and hear is FACEBOOK! No no you must blog, it's been- FACEBOOK! But your blog! Don't you love it anymo-FAAAAAACE-*gasp*-BOOOOOOOK!

...I never get any notifications on Facebook. But I live in hope.

Lots of nothing and some of anything has been happening around here. My mamma could be ready to move out (taking the dread-pirate Cleo with her) in as little as two weeks. Testing out her house the other night she brought a band and her original-punk friends back to her house where she ended up sleeping in a spooning conga line, had a million or so glasses broken and had "life is a sexually transmitted disease with 100% mortality" written on the kitchen wall along with "Gav is a knob!" which is fair enough because it also has "NICOLE IS AWESOME" sprawled across it in black ink, too. Fun times.

My Sonisphere tickets have arrived. I'm pretty sure I've written this maybe three times on here already but this time I have PICTURES! Yes, precious!

No that isn't a carbunkle on the side of my nose, it's a stud, TYVM.

Because I'm vain and stuff. But not at all, really. I threw on a t-shirt at least (B-Movie Vampires - also known as the-band-that-trashed-my-mamma's-house) which is very considerate of me considering that I don't believe in t-shirts or indeed pyjamas OR clothes because they mess with my overall karma which means it's too damn hot for clothes. There was a week where I totally abandoned the concept of trousers and just walked around the house in tights and erm, not much else but you don't need the details of that.

And because I'm awesome, or in case you missed me or the tickets in the first picture, or even because the heady combination of me plus Sonisphere tickets is particularly moving to you, here are some more pictures of me with the tickets:

Alas! 'Tis poetry kindred unto none other, Sire! 'Tis blossom that hath not blemish nor ill-repute!

Last night, or seeing as it's 2.22am, Sunday night, I went to an awesome poker night with people from school. Quids in, playing for keeps, etc etc. I neither won nor lost any money except for what I owe someone for the take-out, so all's fair. There's something awesome about six 17-year-olds getting together with money, Indian food, poker chips and cards that totally warrants the text I got the next day: "I hear you engaged in illicit behaviour with *bleep* yesterday?" Though the fact is that today I have a bruised bottom, backache and cannot walk straight. What the hell was I doing, pray tell? Riding from Fulford to Acomb (North to south, essentially) on a bike with skinny wheels and bugger-all suspension, that's what.

I also read through all the Neil Gaiman books I own verrry slooowly to pass the time. I totally recommend any of them, especially Neverwhere (Damn.. why has no one invented an internet book database yet? One that actually works? Someone get onto that) which is probably going to be my favourite book ever when I read my last book. I also read the latest Sookie Stackhouse (True Blood, duh) book too which was fab but didn't take up enough of my time (my fault entirely, I read so fast, never has 'devour a book' been so literal) and I was left thinking 'I should have savoured that..' afterwards because that was the book I'd been waiting for since last May, which I oh-so-conveniently remembered only after I finished it. Way to go, bumpkin.

I also managed to get myself down to the coast that awkward distance-across-time ago that isn't a couple of weeks ago or just one week ago, it's simply a 'time' that has no name except for now, as I'm calling it a 'tweeble'. So, I managed to get myself down to the coast a tweeble ago and got some gorgeous pictures out of it that made walking barefoot for two miles across tiny sharp pebbles and rocks totally worth it.

So for now I'm thinking I'm going to try to blog three times a tweeble.

The Plan: Summer 2010.

2010-07-18T23:34:00.000+01:00

I've written up maybe four million and eighty two lists of things I've got to buy, books I've got to read, films I've got to see, people I need to get in touch with, places to go this summer.

All in all I've narrowed it down to about seven things:

1. Re-learn German. It's an awesome language. I had the best time speaking it when I went to Germany a few years ago (I vlogged the whole thing).

2. Have a kickass time at Sonisphere Festival with ma homies. My ticket arrived a few days ago.

3. Decorate my sister's new bedroom. I think I mentioned that my mum and sister are moving out. If not, my mum and sister are moving out.

4. Learn to drive, though finding the insurance info for my car has turned into a mini-expedition with no end in sight, the UK seems to need paperwork for everything a la the Vogans off of Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy.

5. Get an exercise bike and get BUNS OF STEEL. Possibly considering getting a stripper pole in my bedroom if I can convince my dad that it's for exercise-y reasons and that I'm not a total whorebag.

6. Read a vaaaast array of For Dummies books on all different topics so I can be all smart'n'shit.

7. Go to Slovenia to see Great-Aunt Katra. She's just that great.

---

Thunderbirds are goooooo...

Family Bliss.

2010-07-12T23:10:00.001+01:00

Oh.. Facebook.. I love your face and everything attached to it.

^^Click to enlarge^^

Paul - My brother

Sam - Our aunt

Nicole - super-hot blogger with no ideas

Notes from The Book Of Nicole.

2010-07-10T01:02:00.001+01:00

Random quote from a book (Smoke And Mirrors - Neil Gaiman) that I liked:

"She stares at me, amused." ~ There was nothing special about this, except that it stood out on the page to me.

Random 3am observation:

"Though it comes close, I don't think I'm entirely alone in thinking that fo every time I read a book, my mind's internal commentary morphs and shifts slightly, receptive and accommodating new thoughts and opinions that would've had no place before. I know I'm not part of a majority here. If this were a commonplace observation then there would be trophies for those who read the most books, Borders York wouldn't've closed down and the world would be quieter in terms of blinkered idiots with penchants for airing their own hollow, self-important manifestos." ~ At 3am I'm everything from political anarchist to zoologist.

On piercings:

Done:

Ears - done
2nd ears - done
Nose - done
Naval - done

To do:

Tragus x2
Cartilage x2
Lip lower centre x1
Eyebrow microdermal x2
Tongue x1
Microdermal vertical sternum x2

*Now* I'm done.

On possible jobs:

- Get into piercing - No guarantee of job and will have to stop biting nails. Nooooo...
- Teaching qualification - Have already passed the limit on facial piercings. Bugger.
- Music store - Don't know enough music.. (?!?!?!?!?!?!)
- Bookstore - Too easily distracted by books.
- Professional reader - Too easily done.
- Writer - Can't fucking write without fucking swearing.
- Drug lord.
- Bartender - Already drink too much.
- Join the circus - Not hairy enough.
- Get pregnant - Don't earn enough to feed myself anyway.

---

I've spent the last few days reading and reading and reading and Windows shopping (my oh-so-clever phrase coined from where I spend hours adding things to my wish list on Amazon).

Mostly it's full of bright red and bright yellow fedoras and books about interesting and diverse subjects that'll get my head back into gear seeing as I haven't actually done any schoolwork in over five months now.

I can always think of awesome things to write, but it's always at the wrong time like when I'm scaling shelves at work or sat trying to hold my breakfast down on a bus (the car's been off the road for a month and all of a sudden I'm travel sick) and I just realised that's not even accurate because I usually sleep through breakfast.

The rest is pretty much solid though. I'm an awesome writer, in some alternate reality where I have a dictaphone, a pen and paper and a manservant called Juan with a typewriter at my disposal.

Crappy excuse for not writing more though. I know it. I'll get back to you when I find a better excuse.

"I'm thinking about England, in the rain..."

Neil Gaiman

Bite me, bitch.

2010-07-05T00:10:00.001+01:00

(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.

2010-07-03T00:04:00.000+01:00

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.

The internet is weird.

2010-06-30T18:50:00.002+01:00

Look what I found.

^ Click to enlarge ^

I'm scared for humanity.

And the wolves.

Tales from.. erm.. whatever day it is. Edited

2010-06-29T22:25:00.003+01:00

Today is Tuesday a.k.a. Shrink Day so I went trundling down to see my person and talked for an hour about life, the universe and everything and ended up drawing how I felt today and it was pretty strange, I think:

The idea was meant to be that I felt like stuff wasn't so important. York could get bombed and people would still be eating pizza in Venice or hunting Justin Beiber for sport in Texas.

You heard it here first.

Anyway. I left the Shrinkses in a pretty good mood, for once. It was raining in an awesome kind of way, with huge raindrops that didn't fall too often but when they did it was like.. SPLAT, soaked, fuck you. It was AWESOME.

I went around pricing up piercings for a while before realising that there was only really one place I wanted to go to, so I ended up at my favouritest piercing studio EVARR for the second time in two days and got the lovely greeting of "'Ello you! You're here a lot aren't you?"

Awesome. I'm loved.

As I sat waiting for him to prep, I was reeling at the fact that my piercer (He's mine now. You can't have him) has approx. twelve piercings in one ear. TWELVE.

That's ten more than me! Shit!

So, today, on a whim, I got my fifth and sixth piercings.

I'm a bit iffy about needle piercings (you have needles and you have guns. Guns are baaaaad, but they hurt less) because my ears were gunned, my naval was done by needle and so was my nose and fuck if that didn't hurt like a blowfish TO THE FACE, so he told me he'd freeze over my ears (I just noticed that 'ears' is an anagram of 'arse' - vital information) beforehand.

Mayhem ensued.

*spraying starts*

"I suppose you'll charge me more if I get high of the fumes."

"Probably."

"Pleh.. Woah, it's in my mouth."

"You want your tongue pierced?"

"Not today tha- SHIT! I didn't take my other earrings out. Shit shit shit! They're FREEZING."

"I can't help you."

"Ffffffferk! Get'emoutget'emout!"

"If I touch them, I'll get stuck to them."

"Ah. Right."

"It'll wear off."

"Cool."

*Pause*

"..Ice cool."

*Huff*

And I've totes promised myself that if I save my money I can have four more at the end of the month.

I rock my own socks.

And for five glorious minutes, my bank balance was more than £1.

2010-06-28T20:39:00.001+01:00

Today I bought my ticket for Sonisphere Festival.

Incase you haven't had the utter joy of hearing me rambling on about what is probably THE MOST INTENSE LINE-UP EVERRR, do feel free to take a peak here.

So, on top of Iggy Pop, Alice Cooper, Iron Maiden, Lacuna Coil, Placebo, Pendulum and forty or so other bands, Tim Min-fucking-chin (it had to go somewhere..) will also be there to make me giggle at inflatable dolls and distant wars and such.

Also I just noticed that Europe are playing and I'm 60% sure that they wrote The Final Countdown.

Crap. I've got that in my head now.

Also, you lost the game. Mwahaha.

I'm still considering tearing up the floorboards.

2010-06-27T22:21:00.000+01:00

I woke up dead today. My throat was swollen, my nose was runny, I was dizzy because my body, brain and blood is screaming PILLS... PILLS... and making me go all black-out-ish.

I had plans today. I had to get hold of the place that called me (didn't work), I had to go food shopping (nearly didn't work) and I had to get a shower (definitely didn't work).

I had an absolute nightmare because when I was getting dry, the towel snagged my nose stud and pulled it out, it fell on the floor, bounced off my foot and disappeared into infinity. I searched, butt-naked, for the damn thing for half an hour before finding it under the floorboards when lying face down on the floor with a torch.

Called Mum:

"Mum? I need to pull up the floorboards and I'd appreciate it if you weren't totally unreasonable about it."

"No."

"You don't even know why yet."

"I don't care. Fuck no."

Humph.

Random-but-relevant piece of info: Nose piercings hurt like hell and without a stud to keep them open they heal really quickly.

I ran down the street to a Goth shop that I always used to shop in and yelled 'CURVED NOSE RING!' at the empty store. Someone came flying out of the back and helped me find a nice pale blue one.

It's too thin and curved wrong so it knocks the inside of my nose making me sneeze like a.. baby panda.. but it's nice so I'm eternally grateful.

So that's the epic tale of my nose.

I'm so pissed that my beloved, fitting, shiny nose stud is still under the floorboards in the bathroom.

I also bought some delicious pork pies, an apple pie, discovered TO MY HORROR that some scary people say 'erbs instead of herbs and nearly passed out in a restaurant.

Life, 'tis dull..

Woes.

2010-06-26T21:09:00.000+01:00

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.

Pleb pleb pleb pleb, a-pleb pleb pleb pleb.

2010-06-25T15:25:00.000+01:00

My brain is mush, ladies and gentlemen. I don't know what's caused it, it's a toss up between watching the X-Men quadrilogy all in one go or going around the house singing stoopid, wordless songs about plebs. Either way, I have mush for brains and want to be a mutant.

Not much happens around here. Mum got her tattoo. Cleo has decided she's fat and both her and mum have enlisted me as a personal trainer because.. oh I don't know. I'm not exactly at the peak of physical fitness but I'm a total pro at WiiFit.

We're all broke so my auntie is paying for our next meal, little does she know that it is going to be THE MOTHER OF ALL KEBABS.

As you were, everyone. As you were.

The artist formally known as Nicole.

2010-06-24T22:17:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I went round to my neighbours house and awwww'd over the tiny baby hamsters, the gorgeous rats (just.. trust me, here) the biiiiiiig snakes, the horribleblehblehbleh spider, the rottweiler, the bird and the tiny puppy whilst my mum got a tattoo from our neighbour.

The end result?

Not baaaad.

It designed it by accident - doodling whilst watching TV. It looks rough because that was literally a minute after we got home and the ink was all smudged on the surface because her skin had puckered up.

Still. I think it's super awesome.

Meet the Nicole-ites.

2010-06-23T17:52:00.000+01:00

I fried my internet connection last night because my laptop breathes fire because I'm an adaptor with the wrong specs because the first one broke because I said so.

So, I'm here on borrowed time, posting nice photos because I'm in a desperate race against my laptop, who is winning.

Here are the cast of my life, in no real order:

Your beloved leader a.k.a. Me.

Anner, Mo-Balls and Lemon.

BFF Main Gay.5 and me.

Rach. We loves.

Kel, my oldest niece. Always loud, always pushing the limits. Doesn't understand the word 'calm' and is totally amazing.

Me, Chunk and Bunny. Chunk's the youngest and absolutely adorable. Bunny's the most lovable, cute, clever, funny little girl in the world.

Cleo. Rerrr... My sister and polar opposite. Found here once in a blue moon.

My brother, Golden Balls. Spawn of awesome.

My mamma. Formally known as 'Mum'.

And finally, my awesome dad, simply known as 'Dad'.

I honestly think I saw Ray Mears today.

2010-06-22T23:58:00.000+01:00

Surviving on three hours sleep, today I went out into the wide world (Ahh! It burns!) and delivered my application forms to places.

I hate buses. They're warm and loud and I get travel sick now because our car is off the road this month so I've been walking everywhere but I have to go on buses because,

A. I live in the middle of York so everything that isn't in the city centre is VERY far away.

B. I have a habit of oversleeping so I run late for work a lot.

C. I work a few miles outside of York.

D. The stores I want to work at are even further away than that. On the other side of York and then some.

Anyway, after running into someone who looked, acted, sounded and dressed like Ray Mears and being ever so slightly bewildered by it, I jumped on the bus and sat still for 45 minutes as we crawled through traffic.

Blergh.

And then again, as we came back to York.

Blergh.

There's good news though. Mum's morgage came through so I can start my driving lessons soon and stop taking the damn bus.

There's hope yet.

Titles are for people with brains.

2010-06-21T23:09:00.000+01:00

Today, walking back from the hospital, I made a new friend.

I don't know his name and he lives where he chooses.

He was a homeless guy sat under Monkgate Bar who was sat with another, much younger, guy holding a bundled scarf like it was an infant. He called out to me, sounded alarming like the vicar guy off of The Princess Bride and said "I know a cat who had a habbit.. of feasting on lots of tasty rabbits!"

I gave him the thumbs up and told him about how my mum's cat's favourite flavour food is rabbit.

"Do you want a Tarot card reading?" The younger guy said quickly, holding out the scarf, which made the possessiveness make more sense. To me, anyway.

I told him I couldn't, that I was in a rush, the usual jargon. The older man said that the Tarot readings were good and I told him that I knew, because I could read them too (Yeah.. about that..).

I stood and talked to the two homeless men for a good ten minutes before I left, feeling much happier that I had before.

It's nice how people do that.

There's a sparkling difference between 'overweight' and 'at high risk of being overweight'

2010-06-20T22:58:00.000+01:00

I'm utterly obsessed with a Wii game called Just Dance, which is more fun that whipped cream and probably one helluva lot healthier too.

Absolutely B-E-A-Utiful. (if anything, it's the arse-over-tit dancing fails that make that advert come true for me)

I absolutely love my Wii. There was a time that I'd play on it every day, work out like mad and dance for hours. Today I got back into the swing of it by killing myself on Wii Fit Plus for an hour and a half. I've shed about a stone and a half since I started playing on it seriously (playing.. seriously.. it doesn't work somehow) and today something new happened.

I bet you can already guess what it was.

I went from being overweight to being at risk of being overweight!

WOOHOOOO!

(Oh, come on.. small achievements are good too..)

Worker Bee.

2010-06-19T21:51:00.000+01:00

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."

2010-06-19T00:19:00.000+01:00

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.

2010-06-17T23:58:00.000+01:00

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.

My neighbours include Sasha the rottweiler and Kenny the boa constrictor.

2010-06-16T21:59:00.000+01:00

I think I mentioned once or twice that my newish neighbours have lots of animals.

Today I met them all and it was terrifyingly awesome.

I came outside to find everyone stood on the balcony with Tiny Pup (no name yet.. very tiny) who they adopted because his mum stopped producing milk when he was two weeks old and Sasha the huge, chunky, gorgeous BFG of a rottweiler. They have two other gorgeous puppies who love running around our kitchen. They have two house bunnies, a tarantula called Rosie, two rats and eleven snakes.

I shit you not.

Dan (neighbour who also happens to be a tattoo artist - WOOP! He let me look at all his design mags) said something about getting Monty, who I assumed was one of the rabbits or rats.

No. Not he was not.

Monty is a huge python. Monty the Python. I love Monty. He's good people. Or snakes. (He's one heavy guy, that's fo sho)

Theeen they brought out a couple of the smaller snakes. One, Choco, was tiny and looked like a bracelet on my wrist. Another, Kenny, was slightly bigger and I could feel by holding him that he was one strong little guy.

"Are they the same breed of snake?" My mum asked.

"Ohh, no. Choco's a corn snake and the one Nicky's holding is a boa constrictor."

REALLY?!

I would've done a happy dance if my hands weren't locked together by half a metre of solid snake. I took Kenny upstairs to show Cleo and straight away he struck out at her. She yelped, I burst out laughing and ran downstairs.

"Kenny tried to kill Cleo!! KENNY ROCKS!"

Mindfudge.

2010-06-15T22:31:00.000+01:00

Never ever ever try to out-run a psychologist. They have powers.

I skipped out on an appointment with my shrink last week because she wanted me to get out of bed and that's just not on.

The office promotes insanity by playing a dazzling array of music varying from the dizzy heights of 'Dancing On The Ceiling' to 'I'm Going Slightly Mad' so that you feel nice and insane when you go to see people you go to see.

This morning me and a four-year-old were sat in the waiting room. It seemed bizarre. All four-year-olds are batshit crazy as a fundamental rule, so what had she done to clear the bar? Absolutely nothing, surely. She could've taught my nieces a few things about being a regular sane four-year-old. Maybe this shizzle runs in the family.

When my person came to collect me, it was my turn to be the four-year-old. She told me to mind my step (all of them, it was a flight of stairs.. d'oh), carried my drink for me incase I spilled it, talked like she was my best buddy, all the usual. And then it was my turn to talk for an hour, most of which she spent guessing what I was trying to say, because fuck if I know.

My head isn't a place for words, it's just thoughts, feelings, images, hunches and a sort of black, blank, empty space where things randomly click into sequences that make sense and fall out of my mouth. I'm no artist and I'm not a particularly gifted speaker. Nothing's particularly easy to put into words or anything anyone else could gain insight from, so as far as shrinks go, I'm screwed.

My person is fairly new, she doesn't guard her facial expressions particularly well so I'm forever back-tracking and correcting what I'm saying, which does sod all for my confidence which is the thing that keeps me from being on a massive downer all the time.

My person also thinks that I'm schizophrenic because in my head I refer to myself as 'you' and also I kept hearing a noise whilst I was talking to her which kinda freaked her out, much to my twisted, delicious delight (oh come on, if you can make a shrink nervous you've really achieved something).

Generally, shrinkage always makes me feel worse, as do doctor's visits, dentist appointments and pop tarts, so it's always good to do something to perk myself up before I get home where I can wallow uninterrupted in self-pity/loathing for a good six hours. Walking back through town, I noted that the mental hospital is only five minutes' walk away from the shrinkses, I bought a godly smoothie from Xing Smoothies (om nom nom), a delicious cookie whirl from Millie's Cookies (om nom nom) and then came home and rocked out on Guitar Hero and Just Dance, and it was good.

Small steps, people. Small steps.

It takes skill to make decent gravy out of an Oxo cube and instant mash. I have that skill.*

2010-06-14T20:29:00.000+01:00

*Factual but irrelevent.

I'm taking time out of my über busy schedule of cooking/sobbing down the phone to some poor rep from PC World/The Sims 2-ing/did-I-mention-the-sobbing?-ing to tell you that rhubarb is the most soothing thing to peel EVER. It actually is. I've never felt so relaxed with a knife in my hand. Heh heh..

My poor baby (my laptop) is without a working adaptor so I called PC World to beg for a new one, which should've been easy because it comes with the warranty, but nooooo... They wanted to steal away my laptop for further tests for upto-and-including-48-days-in-which-time-we-are-not-responsible-to-damage-to-any-of-the-information-on-your-laptop which I agreed to, hung up, went into auto-pilot for five minutes and then dived across the room, snatched up the phone and yelled "CANCEL IT! DON'T TAKE IT AWAY!" and then started crying because being shot in the face is preferable to having my laptop taken away for any reason.

So, my poor baby's future is uncertain for the next few weeks. I'll have to buy a new adaptor because £30+ is much better than being without a laptop.

..Yeah. I'm sane.

And now I have to go see if my world famous (as of forty minutes ago) Rhubarb Guestimation Crumble has exploded or not.

Erm.. whups.

2010-06-13T22:12:00.000+01:00

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. =)

Doomed.. like frog in a blender.

2010-06-12T18:44:00.001+01:00

So, after six hours at work I must go out feeling ROTTEN with all my peeps from work try not to die a lot.

Epic.

I'm only posting this because of NaBloPoMo. NaBloPoMo is eviiiil.

I've earnt the right to be mopey.

2010-06-11T23:38:00.000+01:00

Today I dropped into that-store-that-I-applied-to to ask for another application form and was told that 'sorry, we stopped recruiting yesterday'.

I was grouchy for the rest of the day. My poor manager didn't know what had hit him.

I stood with my arms crossed, glaring at the tills, daring customers to come along wanting to pay for things. Then they did and I was charming. It's easy to be charming, it's hard to get their attention away from the stud (Shiiiiny) in my nose though. People always stare at my nose.

The World Cup kicked off at 3.30.. the store was dead quiet and there were no jobs to do, so there were six of us stood doing sod all. England is playing tomorrow so we get to wear football shirts to work. My manager decided his mission was to cheer me up, which worked, ish. We're all going out tomorrow night for someone's birthday, t'will be awesome and almost worth the nightmare that was trying to find something to wear.

I really reaaaallllyyy love my job. Not many people have managers who let them start start work ten minutes late because they are enjoying a particularly delicious packet of Oreos during briefing.

Buuuut I really do need another job, so the hunt is on. I spent an hour making lists this morning (yeah, okay.) and this is what I came up with re: jobs:

1. Ninja assasin - I'm serious. Mostly.
2. Bartender/barmaid - I don't know why I like job as much as I do, but I do.
3. Argos Gremlin - I got there first, bitches.
4. Clothes store person - I love clothes, I hate buying them.
5. Starbucks barrister - It's STARBUCKS.

Job searching is going to be a perky trip, I can tell.

Let's go, I wanna go, all the way to the horizon.

2010-06-10T16:02:00.000+01:00

I love making plans. LOVE. Even small ones like listening to a certain song/album one night, or planning to go into town. I love making things I can look forward to.

I'm gonna set up a savings account. I'm gonna get more piercings (four or six more and I'm done, promise). I'm gonna get this tattooed just above where my heart ~~was~~ is. I'm going to buy these beautiful beasts.

These are small things (except for the boots and tattoo, which I'm totally stoked about).

I'm also trying to get people to come with me to Sonisphere Festival (Iron Maiden, Muse (possibly), Alice Cooper, Iggy fucking Pop, TIM MINCHIN!!!!) in August. I've applied for a second job, I'm re-doing my bedroom, I'm gonna learn to drive my car and pimp it out (maybe)..

Today I made more plans. I'm gonna try and study from home, I'm taking the sociology exam, I'm going to lose weight LIKE NEVER BEFORE (which is saying something considering I've already lost a stone) and then make more plans in a couple of months.

Plans are gooood, people. Plans don't actually involve doing anything. Yet.

A bit... objective, maybe?

2010-06-09T12:22:00.001+01:00

Good question. Bad question. Let's face it. All exams are are bad questions.

2010-06-08T21:22:00.000+01:00

So I have an exam in two days that I can't find the motivation to to any work for. I tried for three hours earlier, and as a result I reverted back to my still-in-school self: Grim, morbid, angry, breath-y (seriously, I physically can't breath when I try do this 'school' thing) and generally just RARRRRR.

And who can blame me really? Look at the evidence. (Yeah, I totally planned this post whilst pretending to read a textbook)

There is no escaping the obvious in this exam.

I haven't been in school for.. oh.. four months and I've missed E V E R Y T H I N G, so I really don't know what the exam is about.

And.. judging by my epic newfound lack of ability to absorb information and write neatly, here's another question that I can't answer:

So, I guess the moral here is that I'm gonna be here tomorrow whilst I try to pass this exam with no prior knowledge whatsoever.

Bon chance, Nicole.

Not my day. Because 'My Day' sounds like it went as I wanted it to.

2010-06-07T21:23:00.000+01:00

I woke up at two in the afternoon, feeling less like rough and more like ill-fated hedgehog rolled into the road.

Why? You may ask. Why are you so damn lazy?

I'm not lazy, I'm tired. I sleep when I don't want to be awake and when I'm tired. I don't sleep just because I can. I'm tired all the time these days. That's how I'd describe a bad case of clinical depression. It feels like being thoroughly tired, like.. all over. Everything you feel is exhausted and everything you do is exhausting. Commiting yourself to doing anything when you don't feel like it feels like an emotional hazard. There aren't any strong emotions, not really. More like tiny breezes or sparks next to a tidal wave - hardly the most noticeable thing.

Those are the bad days, anyway.

Today wasn't a bad day, I suppose. It was a day that I'll forget about by the end of tomorrow because it'll blend in with a whole army of other days that amount to nothing glorious.

I spent last night nursing a God-awful headache whilst doing the whole 'Jaded' thing. I watched TV without taking any of it in, listened to sad music, looked at photos of times when I actually saw my friends - or anyone - more than once every three weeks, re-read old conversations that made me smile and let out a big. sigh.

This morning? I woke up and baked a cake without any of the pleasure I usually get out of cooking. I watched the end of Marley & Me with Cleo and had a little cry because it reminds me of Zebbie, who I miss more than anything. I cancelled an appointment with my psychologist (yeah..) because talking doesn't help in the slightest, I sat in my room and stared at the ceiling, made plans that made no sense. Nothing much of anything.

The plans were my favourite part of the day.

Easier said than done.

2010-06-06T22:17:00.000+01:00

My house is right in the middle of York. It's a stone's throw away from Pavement a.k.a. the city centre. My mum's house is the last place in York that you can be without not being in York. It's slightly uphill for the whole way. We can't afford to tax the car this month. I have a rusty bike that more or less works so I thought I'd bike down to my mum's today because I was feeling exercise-y (I'd just managed to fit snugly into a pair of jeans that hadn't fit me for three years - woop!).

Getting there was precious. My legs felt a little wobbly when I tried to walk around, get a drink, die on my arse, etc..

Getting back was something else entirely. I felt sick so I thought I'd get myself home before the skies opened because, this being York, it's always on the verge of rain if it's not sunny. I like biking places. I like going places fast, or faster than walking, though walking's good too.

It was all going alright until I got to halfway down my street. There's a hill there that takes a bit of work, and it's also covered in speedbumps because the council are sadists and there's also a river at the bottom of the hill that is realllllly good at getting driven into, so..

Anyway.

I tried to stand up on my bike to work my way up the hill but I couldn't manage it so I thought I'd just dismount and walk the rest of the way.

Des Down The Road was there, sat on a wall with his leg in a cast (motorcycle incident) watching my slow progress. It was an epic defeat, realising I was gonna have to get off my bike, but it only got worse.

You know on Bridget Jones' Diary where she is on the exercise bike and she tries to get off it and flops to the floor?

That happened.

My legs just folded. I tried to stagger upright but they just collapsed again. I crawled awkwardly towards the path, trying to keep my bike from falling on top of me with an air of dignity that I save for special occasions. Des Down The Road burst out laughing.

Joe.

2010-06-05T23:32:00.000+01:00

I have a deep and profound connection with my local supermarket. It's the one that I vomited all over the floor in when I was six and dying of stomach flu. It's the one that I feel less like dying in because ZOMG I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING IS!!!!11!!!1! It's the one that does amazing offers on Coca Cola that basically ensure my teeth are going to hell within the next four years.

It also has a skate park in the car park, rats in the trolley bay and smells of 'just-past-clean'.

AND the toilets are all lit in blue so you can't see your veins to inject The Drugs, it's THAT badass.

Anyway.

I usually go there when I'm going to make my world-famous lasagne, and I'm always served by the same person when I pay.

His name is Joe.

Joe is easily into his fifties, has a faded tattoo in his inner left forearm of a celtic cross, has some teeth missing, one ear pierced, cannot remember solid decades of his life and has the most awesome sense of presence that I've ever come across.

Joe is just golden.

JOE IS AWESOME.

But of course nobody sees that. No one goes to that run-down store that smells of 'just-past-clean' with tired, quirky staff and has a conversation with Joe, which really sucks because he's no regular Joe.

I don't think I have a conclusion here.

Love thy Joes.

I have nothing to say other than "Wake me up, before you go, go.."

2010-06-04T23:59:00.015+01:00

I'm doing short, sweet posts because otherwise I'll burn out by next week.

So you know yesterday when someone asked for my number after they asked if I (on behalf of the store, I guess) had any jobs and I looked down at myself and said 'Uh, no, not on me.' like an idiot?

Of course you do.

Well, this morning he drove past me whilst I was walking to work and shouted/sang "WAKE ME UP, BEFORE YOU GO GO!" as he went flying past.

It was ferking awesome.

I also dropped into ASDA (literally Brit equivalent of Wal Mart) to beg for a job whilst wearing my work uniform and dying of sun-ness. It was surprisingly easy. One of my managers even helped me with the application form.

So here's a round up of the month so far:

1. Got many piercings.
2. Became irresistable babe overnight..
3. Applied for a second job.

Four days into the month.. Not bad, really.

Strange/awesome things that happened at work today:*

2010-06-03T23:40:00.001+01:00

*Full of mystery, I know.

Mo-Balls's awesome mum took us to the retail park I work in, bought me an amazing frappacino AND was totally understanding when I had to bolt off to work three minutes before I was due to start, all before I started work. Ah-may-zing.
A man walked into the store and said to me "Rentakill, I'm here to.. uhh.. look around." I'd been on my shift for oh... ten minutes and hadn't had the childish enthusiasm drained out of me yet so I immediately squealed "OH MY GOD! NINJAS!!!!"

I got someone to apply for a store card for the first time in six months. I'm AWESOME.

Someone asked for my number. Scary fucking potatoes.

I considered getting a second job, like, working the early hours of the morning so I could balance the shifts out easier.

See, folks? Work still hasn't broken me.. yet.

News just in: My face hurts.

2010-06-02T00:30:00.001+01:00

So...

I did it.

Today I went all around town and ended up with these muthas:

You can just see one of the earrings through my hair.

Barely even swollen. Yay me.

I'd say this was a triumph.

Now, let's see if I can dodge infection for however long they take to heal.

No, no. NOW you're sorry.

2010-06-01T01:35:00.002+01:00

I'm gonna attempt NaBloPoMo again this month.

No, please... Don't cry...

Ahem.

The theme is 'now', so..

This month is going off with a BANG, or at least an OWW, because I'm dishing out a whole new kind of payback.

You see, I'm über pissed at my mum for getting off-her-tits drunk whilst I was in one of my black moods and Cleo was there (she gets stressed, she doesn't like not having someone in a solid frame of mind around), and then just being insanely annoying for all of it.

Sooooo...

I'm exacting my revenge.

Tomorrow I'm going to get a fuckload of piercings.

I could not tell you where, or how many, or how much it'll cost, or if I'll chicken out (I have no piercings)..

But tomorrow, I will come home (and then go to work - woe is me -) with more holes then I went out with.

(Hahahaha...)

Suck on THAT.

Summer of 2010 - it was nice while it lasted.

2010-05-27T23:35:00.000+01:00

A few days ago the UK had this blast of Omigod-so-hot that meant that the entire nation descended upon the store I work in to by barbeques and paddling pools TO THE MAX. It was ridiculous. It was hot for three days and I was at work for all of those days (basking in the glory of epic air conditioning - booyah).

By the end of the first day we had a strategem where two of us would hide from the customers and eat ice cream, and then swap. It was delicious.

That's... pretty much all that's happened.

I got a new mouse for my computer and I've been Simming it up pretty much around the clock.

My life is thrilling, I know.

Trubble in ma hood.

2010-05-22T21:18:00.001+01:00

I think I've mentioned my elderly insane neighbours.

My newest neighbours keep fort with a rottweiler, four budgies and two horny lizards.

One is using a raving, rent-dodging, fake-ID toting 70-odd bingo fanatic's old house as a drug den.

Two own a burger van on the A19.

One puts bricks in her plant-pots to 'hold the trees in'.

One is on the run from the feds.

And the final one is a bearded lady. I shit you not, she's all bristly.

The bearded lady has always labelled me, Cleo and Golden Balls (my bro) as trouble. She's never had a reason to, really. I suppose me leaving (very very very) faint marks on her stretch of the balcony whilst rollerblading would've been kind annoying seeing as she likes everything to be squeaky clean, (but it was the guy at the end of the balcony whose wall I'd usually crash into that suffered most - knocked all the stuff off his bathroom shelf a million times over) but she has never had any solid reason to hate us.

If there's trouble, it's one of us. If the bin's overflowing, it's us, not the twenty three other families we share it with. The one time that Cleo scratched her name into the bricks on the stairwell, she came knocking. If she sees me going past her house (which I have to, unless I wanted to take an 18-ft dive off the balcony) she always tells me to move on, even though out of pure dislike for the woman I was practically running anyway.

Anyway.

The bearded lady has taken it too far ladies and gents.

She has now installed one of those little buzzer things that make a horrible whining sound that only dogs, children and teenagers can hear.

It's not like I can avoid the damn thing, I have to go to work, go shopping, meet people etc. and everytime I leave the house all I can hear is painfully high-pitched Oh-My-God-It's-Eating-My-Brain shrieking that makes my ears throb.

Stupid woman.

It was much easier when I was three and the neighbour categories fell as: Paedophile, Man Who Works In A Chocolate Factory, Nice Woman Who Nearly Killed Me With Peanuts, and Religious Nuts.

The Religious Nuts are still here as The Brick People (also known as the 'Jesus Rocks! Quarter'). They wrote me off for an atheist at the tender age of four when I saw Jesus on a cross in their house and said 'Jesus has got boobies, look!

Shattered.

2010-05-20T23:21:00.002+01:00

As the sky is clearing
You clear your mind
Hide all mirrors not to see
What the morphine couldn't hide

I don't feel much like myself right now. My meds aren't working, the trips to the psychologist are driving me mad and I slept until 7pm today just to avoid the day. I can't stand myself.

There's not much to write about, days are filled with nothing and I'm even bored.

I am a learner, learning. And other stuff.

2010-05-15T23:49:00.001+01:00

8 days later and uhh... nothing more interesting than my underwear has happened.

Except that my driving licence arrived, I nearly ran over a lawn mower because my dad left my car in gear (even I know not to do that = years of complaints from my mum), I have an effing CAR, I've been on a fitness bender and am finally seeing some awesome results and I'm trying to give up coke by watching my sister drink it and have toothache. Win.

I spent today on my current best friend (TWSS), the Wii. I love Wii Fit Plus, I even though it costs a bomb in batteries. I had a moment of weakness at work and ended up buying tons of stuff like yoga mats and pedometers and stuff but I'm fairly sure it was worth it.

I went to see a psychologist where we talked about loads of rather dull stuff mostly involving me and my feelings and how do you feel about that and by the end of it I was in such a state of 'meh' that me and my mum went to the pub and took up Tuesday afternoon drinking. True story.

So that's all that I've got, except that the True Blood season finale aired here yesterday. That was more or less the highlight of my entire life.

Undercrackers.

2010-05-07T00:54:00.000+01:00

I draw power from my underwear.

No, sit down, listen.

Basically I appear to be one of those people who will sit back and watch as someone cuts in front of me in a shop, or will sit and allow herself to be yelled at by a grouchy customer who refuses to acknowledge that I work for a store that sells electronics, not Sony itself. Someone might smirk at me because I'm kinda-sorta fat (plump is more accurate) and absolutely LOVE running*, exercise and shit.

I also have a penchant for underwear. I lovelovelove buying bras and pants (pants = panties in this here part of the world) and socks and tights in wild colours and awesome patterns. Like at school when I had to wear solid black for my uniform, I'd wear neon yellow leg warmers and bright green and red socks.

At work I take a lot of crap. My badge should say 'Nicole - taker of shit' because that's all I seem to get. Yes, I'm sorry your car got broken into, sure I'll replace the car seat for you but FOR SHIT'S SAKE! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THE POLICE ARE TAKING SO LONG TO BLOODY RECOVER IT. And SCREW YOU! I'M WEARING A BRIGHT YELLOW BRA.

If my mum starts arguing about.. oh.. anything.. I zone out and focus on the niiiice silk pants. Looooovely silk pants. These socks are full of holes but the pants are niiiiiice... Sorry, what?

If someone (heaven forbid) calls me boring I have no problem telling them that 'Actually, you should see the underwear I'm packing right now, buddy.'

My friend Mo-Balls used to have an awesome pair of boxers with like.. superheroes on them with BAM and POW and stuff on them which she called her 'Power Pants'. I totally get that.

*Though I've had to kinda quit the running for a little while, I've strained all the tendons in my foot. Joy.

Frick.

2010-05-04T23:44:00.000+01:00

Alors, Rach has been and gone (awesomeness all weekend long - probably more on this later).

My birthday was good. I tried to get the lovely Anner drunk and only succeeded in getting wasted myself.

Went climbing around some waterfalls and did so without getting even a tiny bit wet. That takes skill, yo.

Today I dropped Rach off at the station and went bra shopping, which in itself is a mammoth task. I don't like shopping outside of Asda (UK equivalent of WalMart) or Sainsbury's because seeing clothes that I'd have to work for two days straight to afford just pisses me the fuck off. See? Like that.

Anyhoodle it was waaaaaarm today so I was wearing only the bare essentials, and after about two hours in town I looked in a window - Note: not the clearest reflection either and I still saw it - to see that, Oh, Fabulous, my top was see-through, like, all the way through.

And I had to get home. Through town. With lots of people. Some of which probably knew me.

Cue loud internal FRICK followed by frantic tweeting:

And God knows, I tried to text my insignificant other to see if he thought the situation was too dire for me to carry on living, but my phone and his phone hate each other so the picture got lost somewhere in the cosmos, so now there's a picture of me wearing a see-through top floating around in infinity waiting for someone to find it and take it home.

You have to understand, to a freshly-turned seventeen year old, this shit is the height of mortal embarrassment.

I did get 30 cans of coke for £5.70 though. To a freshly-turned seventeen year old, that's the redeeming factor.