142 - Table Quiz!

Oh I am such a party animal. In fact, my whole family is so collectively exciting that firstly we went to donate blood yesterday evening, and then went to a table quiz in the local pub.

You're know you're jealous.

We came first in the quiz. It might sound obnoxious, but we usually come first or second any time a quiz night is hosted locally. I honestly think it was just pot luck at the very beginning. See, our ream usually consists of my sister and I, plus our dad and a family friend called Michael. It wasn't planned like this, but this is how it happened and we roll with the success. We all have our share of general knowledge but Michael is very knowledgeable in areas such as geography, history, Irish history and lore, and pop culture from about the 70's and earlier. Dad is good with sports, things from the 70's and 80's, some TV shows, regulations and some laws. My sister and I have the kids genre, movies, and visual and word puzzles down to a fine art. There aren't many usual pub quiz topics that come up that at least one of us has an educated clue of.

Most other teams have a bunch of people that know a lot about the same subject but not much about others. As in, they're all one type of person, while we're all very different. It works! It's like University Challenge; build your team wisely to cover most subjects and you're likely to prevail.

And yes, there have been Harry Potter questions in the past. And we have nailed them. Naturally.

Actually, I remember when one Harry Potter question came up and an old school friend of mine came to me and asked what the answer was.

134 - Lowering The Standards

It's 4am and I can't sleep. My mind is too busy, so I thought I'd let it all out here. I'm guessing this will piss some people off but I don't mean it to. Anyone that reads this (all four of you) will hear it all sooner or later anyway, and I really need to get it off my chest now.

To cut a long story short, my boyfriend started telling me about a night out a long time ago that he referred to as "the best evening ever" because of all the "hot girls". I was fine with the part about partying with transvestites and crazy people with guns. I was even OK with the thought that a bunch of strippers - who happened to be colleagues of his friend's wife - got their tits out to show off their boob jobs.

My curiosity plummeted when his "best evening ever" ended with him getting laid with one of the sluts. I mean, strippers. Wait, what's the difference? Oh, right, one gets paid.

I know every person above the age of, say, 25 has been with a bunch of people in their lives, of course. That's not the issue. We've talked about exes before, extensively, without a hint of resentment.

Let me just add in here that the last few days my confidence and self esteem has been floating somewhere around my ankles.

Now, I know he didn't mean any harm by it and even said he wished he hadn't mentioned it at all (right before he fell asleep... lucky for some) but that doesn't make it easier on my mind. My mind has still drawn a spider diagram in a notebook, with the words "stripper", "laid", "hot girls", my boyfriend's name and the quoted "best evening ever" all circled and joined to each other, and if you turn over the page there I am, connected up with "fat", "inexperienced" and "sorry excuse for a female".

My self-esteem is now ground into the carpet.

I'm taking bets on how long it will be before I can look in the mirror and like or even accept what I see. This morning the running average was two weeks. Now, I'm not so sure.

125 - Between The Cracks

At the risk of this blog turning into a constant "I'm just weird" ramble...

I made an observation today.

All my friends that don't drink are quite religious and/or American. All of my friends that do drink are more similar in my views and opinions. I don't drink and I'm not religious or American.

Therefore, to truly fit in with my friends, I have to get wasted and/or believe in God and/or move to America.

You know, I can't decide which of the three is most likely. I can say that being excluded from all three is surprisingly depressing.

118 - Re-meh-nder

I just got a text from the lady that runs the Weight Watchers meetings I recently dropped out of.

It made my eye twitch.

Not only did she use text-speak ("havnt cn u l8ly") but I really don't need a reminder that I 'gave up'.

1) I can't afford it.
2) I can't stand her whiny voice or total inaccuracy with pretty much everything.
3) Yes, I have had a really bad few days. Bite me.

116 - Cock Block

I've discovered a whole new meaning to that term.

Most of you guys know I've had a book in my head for years and recently I started putting it on paper. My biggest fear was always never having enough ideas to keep going, but now that I've started I have reached a new hurdle.

My protagonist is a guy.

I'm a girl.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to write as someone from a different country let alone a different species? I mean... gender...

It's really tricky.

I had to do something before he started going gay on me, so I thought some manly music would help. That's where I reached another hurdle.

I'm a girl.

Most of my music runs along the lines of Whitesnake, Journey, Josh Groban, Maroon 5... you get the picture.

Hopefully Breaking Benjamin will be my saving grace on this one. Watch this space.

Note: Stephenie Meyer listened to Muse when writing the Twilight books. Look at Edward. I rest my case.

107 - How You Doin'?

I realised today the effect this blog is having on my social life. It was unexpected and quite strange, but now that I think about it, it makes a lot of sense.

My friends read my blog and to them, they're hearing from me as though I picked up the phone or sent an email and chatted to them for a while. That's fine really, but what happens then is that I don't hear from my friends for days or weeks at a time. They don't realise it, because they know how I am and what's on my mind or what I get up to, but I have no idea how they are or what's happening in their lives because it doesn't register on a conscious level that the blog as a conversation is completely one-sided.

It's a very strange feeling, knowing that all your friends know all about your day/week/life, but you don't know a thing about theirs, or don't even realise that they know everything you're saying. Half of the people that read this blog I didn't realise even read it at all.

It's like having a diary, leaving it on your front door step and closing the door, not knowing who is going to read it and who isn't, and people rarely knock on the door to talk back.

102 - Never Say Never

I had a very good friend of mine run into some lady troubles. Very basically, he has been friends with her for a long time, he now wants to be more than friends and it's a mystery what will happen. At one point he said to me, "If this doesn't work I don't think I can be just friends with her..." or something to that effect.

He's not the only person I know to have ever said that.

I'm going to say this now; that is total bullshit.

Anyone with a strong enough will can change their perception and relationship with anyone else. I've done it before. Twice. Twice I've had friends that I've liked as more than friends, but for one reason or another it could never be. I forced my brain to think of them differently. It can be done. It is extremely difficult, especially if the person means a lot to you, but it can definitely be done. I'm not promising any relapses, but I can tell you that they get easier to deal with as time moves on.

Uhm... An example! Uhm... Ok, for this we will be a girl, and the other person will be a guy that was a friend that we now have swoony mushy feelings for. Remember, this works both ways if you swap the situation around.

So you like the guy. He likes you as a friend, or for other reasons (be it family, religion, distance, friends, other partners) you just can't be with him as more than a friend. You don't want to lose him entirely. So start treating him as a friend. Call him your friend, do friend type activities, go out with other friends and maybe limit hanging out where it's just the two of you, even distance yourself from him a bit and just remind yourself that he is a friend. Don't even tolerate thinking about even something as tiny as holding his hand or cuddling him. Imagine/see him with other girls and remind yourself that it's fine, force yourself to accept it and be happy for him and stay out of his love life.

Eventually you will see him (or her) as a friend and you will forget you even thought otherwise.

It can be done. You just have to want it enough.

098 - Nerd Sunday

I had sort of planned to get some writing done today. Instead I went over the the boyfriend's and played video games all day and stuffed myself with ice cream, nuts, muffins, and a giant burger with chips. I think I've gained about four pound this weekend alone. And it was worth it.

What have I been playing, I hear you ask? No? Well I'll tell you anyway. I've started playing Mass Effect (the first one) again. This time with a female character, and I'm making her as nasty and evil as I possibly can. I never play females or bad characters, but I really wanted to see how things would turn out. As a good guy at the end of the second game, I had three people die on me (two in the first, one in the second), so maybe it'll be different when I just don't give a damn and start pissing people off. Teehee.

Anyway, more important than anything already mentioned this weekend, I've realised the importance of speaking one's mind and venting to at least one person. This blog is my way of doing it, and I know it can sometimes come across as me being bitchy or talking behind people's backs, but I assure you it's just me getting a load off my chest, because if I don't things can go very very bad. And I know most people will understand that.

090 - Resurection

Did you know Blogger keeps your blog for 90 days after you delete it? I didn't. Now I do!

I have to apologise for deleting this this yesterday. Deleting it upset a lot of people, especially my writer friends who made me realise writing is one thing in my life that will never leave and never turn it's back on me. Part of my writing is my blog. So, in a way, my blog is my new dog. You know, dogs... loyal... best friend... Oh, it made sense in my head.

Why did I delete it? Well, someone read my last blog as a direct attack on him, and I'm actually still trying to convince that person that it wasn't. Perhaps I need to highlight the majority of the blog that wasn't about him at all. He didn't drive me to delete this though, oh no. It was his over-protective guard dog that doesn't know her place. She even told me I shouldn't write about things I care about or feel passionately about and accused me of caring more about my blog than about people that it may piss of. Well, some people, perhaps... clearly... but I assure everyone that reads these from an outside perspective that everyone in my blog is fully aware they're in it, most often why they're in it has already been discussed and resolved, and they see it as a general summary of my day. Most people. And generally they know me, or haven't had a few drinks in them at the time.

Oh dear, can you tell I'm still pissed off?

Never make a writer feel that her writing is worthless. It cuts to the bone.

085 - Stretch Marks

"OH EM GEE! Did she just say stretch marks?!!??!"

Yes. Yes I did. I've talked about fat asses this week because I've grown to love mine and I thought everyone else should too. One thing I've really really hated for a long time and have never talked about before is stretch marks. My stretch marks.

Deep breath.

I have stretch marks on my tummy, my hips, the backs of my thighs, the backs of my knees (yeah OK, what?), my boobs, and on my upper arms. The only ones that really really make me stress are the ones on my arms, because they're the ones people can see in the Summer when I wear sleeveless tops.

I'm one of the people who always associated stretch marks with old age, bad skin and pregnancy, so I've not even admitted to having them until now. Not to the outside world, anyway. It was always just so embarrassing!

So, I was watching that How To Look Good Naked crap and for once I didn't want to slap that Gok fella. (Let's face it, he's really irritating and extremely hypocritical. He was a fat kid who lost a ton of weight to look good, can't even look at his old photos, and he's making a living off of telling women they don't need to change how they look and should be happy with their bodies.) He said how 78% of women have stretch marks.

78% of women have stretch marks.

That's almost 4 of every 5 women look like a kid drew train tracks over their skin. I wonder how far a train would go if you laid all the women together...

OK, mind wandering now...

Only one member of Girls Aloud DOESN'T have stretch marks. Hah! That's a satisfying thought!

Not only that, but it really made me realise how these women get their stretch marks. Yes, some just have skin prone to it, some have had kids, but quite a lot come from weight loss or gain, which almost every woman goes through, and even puberty. Yep, that's when mine started showing up for sure. Just getting taller and growing can give teenage girls stretch marks.

Amazing, isn't it? So many women have them that saying "I hate my stretch marks" is like saying "I hate having dry skin" or "I hate having dark hair".

Look around you, girls. The woman right next to you probably has them too.

For the guys that have them, I wouldn't know where to start to talk about it. Like I said before, most people associate stretch marks with being pregnant, so that in itself is potentially demeaning for a guy. There is the thought that guys are less sensitive to body issues and lacking self-confidence, which I think is total bull. Guys just don't complain as much as we do. That doesn't mean they don't get self-conscious.

Guys get stretch marks from growing and weight fluctuation just like women do. And if women have a hard enough time dealing with them, imagine what it's like for the men.

But, men + stretch marks = taboo.

Or so it seems.

Hey, why don't we just call them Growth Scars instead?

And to all the women without stretch marks.... just you wait.... just.... wait...

082 - Love Your Lardy Butt!

I was going to say "Love your curves" but if you're like me, you'll read the word "curves" and think, "I have curves... lots of curves... rolls of them!" So, here goes...

Love your fat ass.
Love all your lumps and bumps, love handles and turkey thighs.

The number of good male friends I have with girlfriends: 5
The number of those girlfriends that are a size 18 and over: 4

The number of size 16+ girls I know: 5 (not the same girls)
Number of them with boyfriends: 5

(See the pattern yet?)

Number of single guy friends: 15
Number of those single guy friends that are gay (in the name of accuracy): 3
Number of those single guy friends that say their perfect woman is size 16+: 10
Number of those single guy friends that say their perfect woman is size 20+: 8

Ladies, big bums and hips are sexy. My friends are sweet, charming, loving, [somewhat] gentle men, so if you've come across guys and girls who have said they don't like bulge, well, you're talking to the wrong guys, and they're probably pond scum.

C'mon, imagine the last guy to tell you you're not attractive... pond scum, right? You're too good to date that anyway.

The bottom line is, if you're not happy with yourself, you CAN change... but you really don't need to.

Unless you're 400lbs and riddled with diabetes or something... then your lardy butt might be killing you. Just a thought.

081 - Life Is Short

Everyone has heard it said before. Almost everyone reading this has probably said it themselves. "Life is short." I've been wondering how many people have actually really thought about what it means. I was left to my own devices of boredom this morning and ended up really thinking about life - my life in particular.

I've lived approximately one third of my life already, or just under.
One third.
33.3%
Four slices of a 12" pizza.

That's a lot. I know I'm young still, I'm not saying that 24 years old is ancient. Hell, it's barely adult. But it is a large chunk of the average lifetime.

And what do I have to prove my 24 years? Not a lot. And that's the clincher. Sure, I know people older than me who still live at home with their parents and never had a substantial relationship and never held a job. I also know people younger than me with families, careers, the first stepping stones of the path that is the rest of their lives.

My obvious train of thought was that I generally suck - no job, no family other than the one I was born into - but then I got over myself and really thought about the things I have achieved. There is some success in my life. It's a delicate balance between it and the vast expanse of blah. True, I don't have a lot of stuff to show, but I have some things, and quite often they're drowned in the shadows of the blah.

I never finished college, but when I look at my designer friends I feel thankful that I didn't. It's not ideal to say that you're a drop-out - I wouldn't recommend it to anyone - but when I picture myself in the career I was set to achieve, all I can see is the maltreatment, stress, low wages and zero advancement potential that 90% of my designer friends currently deal with. Do I want that? No. If working as something less glamorous means I don't have to put up with all that, I'd be happy. Now, just to find a crap job... hmm...

As for relationships, I've had my fair share, and most of them were horrible. Do I regret them, so? No, not really, because they all helped make me the kind of person I am in a relationship now. I learned what to do, and what not to do. I learned what kind of guys yo stay away from and what kind of guys would break my heart (and, in some cases, other girls' hearts at the same time). And the result? I knew what I wanted and how to keep hold of it... er, him... uhm... so far, anyway. Haha... ha... uh....

078 - I'll Show You!

In the newspaper today there was a story about a young woman who recently climbed Mount Everest, despite only taking up climbing last year. Reportedly, she was seventeen years old when she first said to her dad that she was going to climb Everest,and he laughed and told her she'd never do it.

It got me wondering about how many people do things just because someone says they can't. Or how many people want something more because they're told they can't have it.

I don't just mean wanting chocolate when you're on a diet...

When my parents have ever said that they didn't think I'd be able to do something, I usually took it to heart and believed them. Thankfully this hardly ever happened. If a friend told me I wouldn't be able to do something I might argue and then it could go either way, whether I would do it or not. However, if someone I didn't like told me I was incapable of something I would go out of my way to prove them wrong.

Is that bad?

064 - Comfort

I just wanted to say that I was surprised to discover that I'd forgotten how to be completely relaxed and at ease around someone other than my sister. I have many friends that I love being around, having fun and getting up to no good, but when the fun and excitement dies down I often find myself ever so slightly uneasy. Like I should be doing something to amuse someone.

This weekend there was a period of no excitement, sitting still, not doing much of anything, when I realised I was really content and comfortable with the doing of nothing. The pressure and discomfort I expected to feel didn't exist at all, and it felt good.

063 - Revelation

Thanks to the lovely Matt, I've realised the reason I left Facebook had a very simple and effective solution. I had no idea you could specifically block people! To the point where they don't even exist! Nearly. They don't show up anywhere as far as I can see, and that includes other people's pages, info, and anything else you can think of. So my block list has grown considerably and Facebook should now be fun once more. For now, anyway.

I went to see Iron Man 2 yesterday, again, and it is still great.

I also got a new phone. You can't see from the picture, but the back is white with a Hello Kitty picture on it. And it's touchscreen, and has a lot of features that have been impressing my dear *cough* and many iphone user friends. And it only cost €99.

I think... win?

059 - But It Doesn't Hurt!

This blogging thing is becoming second nature at this stage. I'm surprised, because I thought it would have become a chore after a week or two. I admit, the first while was a little difficult but now it's more like diary or a more personal version of a social networking site. It's like having your own little house that you can invite people into whenever you want, and it just so happens that I want to invite them in every day.

On that note I want to say hi to my only stalker - I mean 'follower' - that I don't actually know. Hi Kevin! Welcome! Pull up a chair and grab some popcorn. And try not to fall asleep.

It's almost 1pm, which means I have to leave quite soon to catch a bus to catch another bus that will take me up to my parents' home. Why am I doing this mid-week instead of the usual weekend trip? Sigh.

I have to go to the dentist.

There. I said it. Now hopefully I won't panic so much every time I think of it.

...

Nope, that didn't work.

I broke one of my back teeth over a week ago. Now, it doesn't hurt and doesn't bother me at all, but people keep telling me I have to get it seen to, ignoring my panic-stricken face at the mention of a dentist. My mother actually made the appointment for me, and has offered to pay for it too (for those not familiar with Ireland health systems, basically it's half the price to go across the border into Northern Ireland for dental work than it is to get it done down here... which is why I'm going to my parents). My dad has actually taken the day off work and is driving me to the clinic himself. I swear I'm not that bad when it comes to the dentist, but it does say something when a 24 year old needs her dad to walk her to the door. Or, more importantly, her dad does it without asking.

My appointment is on Thursday - tomorrow.... ohgodI'mgoingtodie - which means I'll be up there from later today until Friday. So, no blog tomorrow. Well, no live one. I'll end up writing one and scheduling it for tomorrow instead. Hmm... Oh! Puzzle time! It's been a while.

Random, barely important updates?
I'm currently watching Ghost Hunters season 3 and Warehouse 13 season 1 (season 2 isn't out yet).
Listening to a CD I bought from a pair of guys busking on Henry Street a while ago. They're really good. Ryan Sheridan and Arthur Graczyk. Check out myspace.com/ryansheridanmusic. Or you can watch the video up above, but it's not his best song, in my opinion. Check the myspace page though. You won't be disappointed. I don't think.
I've been nomming on Special K Mini Breaks. They're really really good. Like cookies without the fat.
I've been trying to donate blood for the last few weeks, and yet again my plans have been foiled by you pesky kids!!! Or, rather, my dentist appointment.
I lost another 2lbs!
My horrible room mate is moving out. Yessss!
Oh, and I'm dying my hair blue.

058 - Goodbye Facebook

Why did I delete my Facebook account? Well, it's simple. Facebook does nothing but cause trouble for me. The people I care about already have my number or IM addresses and keep in contact that way. Facebook opens the door to people I don't even know to contact me and judge me (as has been happening) and has a habit of throwing people I generally dispise back in my face, over and over. Maybe that's why it's called 'face'book... hmm...

Plus, lately, Facebook has been so glitchy it drives me nuts.

I hate it more than I love it, so it seemed pointless to subject myself to it every day.

054 - Light At The End Of The Tunnel?

Perhaps....

I overheard two of my housemates arguing this morning about one of their doings, and it sounds like the bane of my existence is moving out. He went to look at a place today anyway. Fingers crossed he leaves ASAP, because if he doesn't go soon I might have to.

On another note, has anyone else ever come across someone that just rubs you up the wrong way entirely, right from the first moment? Or do I just have that effect on people?

Oh, and another lesson: just because milk says it's in date and smells like it's fresh doesn't mean it actually is.

051 - Got The Ball Rolling

After my first week of being back at Weight Watchers I've lost 4.5 lbs. Yay!!! Only 50 more to go!

And no, I won't be taking the lazy way out and just blogging my progress every Tuesday. I promise.

047 - Goosebumps

(Please note, the names of the people in this blog have been changed, because I'm paranoid, and this story involves kids.)

Not the excited kind of goosebumps. The creepy kind.

I was walking to my cousin's hair salon earlier today with my mother when she told me how a family friend was moving into 'Karen Fletcher's old house' and I told her how that house always made me uneasy. About half an hour later my cousin was talking about spooky goings-on with a client when we overheard her say "That's like Karen Fletcher's house. I hated being in there." Mam looked at me wide-eyed and I have to admit, my skin crawled. Later, we asked my cousin what she meant, and... well, let me start from the beginning...

When I was a teenager I babysat for two boys, we'll call them Charlie and Brian Fletcher. Since I looked after them they've moved home several times, so this story is about the house they lived in years ago. Until the conversation with my cousin today I didn't know she, too, looked after them, when they were younger (she's older than I am, so when she became too old to babysit, I started).

Every time I was in that house, I felt uneasy. From the very beginning I had no reason to feel that way, but the longer I babysat them, the more often strange things happened. I always put it down to some sort of psychological influence, because the boys would tell me about this monster they'd seen; a figure with disfigured head and huge horns that lived in the attic. I think I called it Maggie to see if naming their imaginary 'friend' would make them (and me) less scared. We hated the attic. In all the years I visited that house I'd only ever been in the attic once, despite it having a solid staircase leading up to it. It wasn't dangerous to get into.

Apart from the cold atmosphere, there were noises. We'd hear creaking, knocking, tapping, whispers, hissing... all things I told myself were just the heating turning off or on, or floorboards settling, or just the wind. A few times I'd thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, like when I saw a pair of eyes looking through the living room window at me, shadows out the corner of my eyes, things moving outside... I had a ritual, once the boys went to bed, to close every door and pull the window blinds down completely, and have all the lights on in the room that I was in. It never really helped, but I felt better that whatever was in the house or outside the window couldn't see me and I couldn't see it, if it had nowhere to hide.

I know I was glad when they moved and I didn't have to be in that house any more, but I never really made a fuss about anything that happened there. I never really told anyone. Like I said already, I was sure it was just my overactive imagination.

My cousin's stories were quite different. She reported, long before the younger boy was born, strange things happening. The TV would turn on and off by itself, for example. The story that really had me shivering in my seat today was of when Brian, the youngest, was about two months old, and Charlie was three years. My cousin had a few friends over after the boys were asleep, and they were talking away and watching TV when they heard three* very loud bangs from upstairs. And Brian started to cry.

My cousin and her friends went to check on the baby. What they saw freaked them out so much that her friends ran screaming from the house.

When she had put the baby to sleep in his cot, she tucked his blanket in cosy around him, lying down, head at the top of the cot, as most people would do. When she found him he was completely turned round, head where his feet had been, and he was tucked in perfectly. Like someone had just turned him around, blanket and all.

I know you probably don't believe in ghosts or poltergeists, but you have to admit, it's terribly strange...

I'm not going to sleep right tonight.

*For those who have never heard of the superstition before, it is said that if you hear three loud bangs, someone you know is going to die. A little bit like hearing a banshee.