Evening. I'm off to my Grandma's in Carlisle tomorrow until Sunday so this is a goodbye blog post. I'm supposed to be packing tonight but seeing as I'm wearing now what I'll be wearing for the next few days, with changes in undercrackers and t-shirts, obvs. I can't really do much until I put my jimjams on later this evening.

I found a picture of what I want my hair to look like, or rather, how I'm going to get it done over summer, ready for Corfu and Prom and all that jazz. I'll need a cut and a dye but it'll look mint, hopefully. I did go to the gym today, and the blind man was there again and I also (somehow) managed to do 20 pages of Lysistrata annotations. I'll do another 20 in the car tomorrow, and then 20 on Saturday, and then, hopefully, I'll only have a few left to do during the car journey hom on Sunday.

My list of things-that-I-want-but-won't-be-able-to-own-for-ages is steadily growing. It now includes Marg Kate boots from Clarks (in black), Aqua Marina face wash from Lush, both She and Him albums and some new jeans. I can't wait until I'm famous and rich.

Yearbook nominations are out!

I'm trying hard to trick myself into thinking that winning one of the categories is the equivalent of winning an Oscar, so that I can justify my excitement and mega-focus when it comes to nominating who I think should win. Each category has a boy and a girl winner, and the categories are:

Loudest Person,
Class Clown,
Laziest Person,
Best Dressed,
Drama King/Queen,
Best Couple,
Teacher's Pet,
Sports Person,
Legend of the Year,
Best Hair,
Best Smile,
Rear of the Year,
Best Looking,
Drunkard/Party Animal,
Best Driver,
Worst Driver,
Facebook Keeno,
Most Talented,
Best Laugh,
First To be On Page 3,
First To Win An Oscar,
Most Argumentative,
Biggest Flirt,
Biggest Contributor,
First To Become A Footballer's Wife,
First To Become A Cleaner.

And totally off topic, but:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!

So today was the Johnstone's Paint Trophy final, between Carlisle United and Southampton. We didn't win. We lost 4-1. Which wasn't great. I figure I'd write just to say that Wembley stadium is one of the coolest places I've been in a while. And although we didn't win, when Carlisle came out they played Kings and Queens by 30 Seconds To Mars, and I don't know why, but I got this weird sense of pride and gratefulness, for actually being there. I guess this is why people love watching the big games and travelling miles and miles to see their team play. I've ended up coming home with a t-shirt and the Gary Madine song going round and round in my head, which, to my great suprise, has not yet become irritating.

I am exhausted. In retrospect, perhaps staying up for most of last night to watch the end of Bones season four (I watched six episodes) was not the best idea. So, right now, I have a large mug of strong black coffee and in ten minutes I'll go and make dinner for everyone.

I don't have work specifically for this weekend; two hand-written Media exam questions are due in after the Easter holidays, so it's not like I don't have the time. I need to go to the St Albans library I think, for resources. I have literally no idea what hegemony is so I need to sort that out before attempting any Media. I finished The Informers last night as well so I can focus 110% on Dracula and Frankenstein, and the other English texts.

This week hasn't been particularly fab food-wise. I had two rounds of chips and burger/chicken etc. which, although hand-prepared (to the best of my knowledge) clocked many, many calories. I also had a few six custard creams on Monday evening when I got in from school. But I've been to the gym four times this week, so that hasn't dropped.

There was a blind man there today and there were no staff in the gym itself, so when he called out 'Is anyone there?' I had to answer in case he needed help or something. No, he didn't, he just wanted to know if it was okay if he could sing out loud. There was no one else in the gym, bar me and him, so I said it was cool and he was humming away on the rowing machine.

Have a good weekend, I'm off to boil some sprouts.

I haven't blogged for nearly a week. That isn't good.

I had a good weekend, starting with Wagamamas with Caitlin and Katie on Friday night. I was so tired so I asked for an early meal, and we met at 6:30 and ate a chicken katsu curry each and it was all generally very cool. Plus, I got my birthday presents which are very appreciated, so thank you!

On Saturday, everyone went to a party so Anne came over for roast chicken and couscous and then we watched The Darjeeling Ltd which was awesome. I LOVE YOU TOO BUT I'M GONNA MACE YOU IN THE FACE.

And then on Sunday I weighed myself and I've lost one pound so that's good.

Today is CED Day and we're not doing anything so I'm at home. I went to the gym this morning so that I can go and meet Mum and pick her up after her Spanish exam which is today. Then, I think, we are going to the pub for lunch.

I have to do more Lysistrata, but that can wait until later today.

I've been watching Bones pretty much non-stop for the last week, and I'm on season four now and I'm getting quite obsessed. Unfortunately I'm usually eating just as they pull a dismembered and decomposed corpse out of a giant blender or something - but I guess it's good for the diet, right?

Ergh, Drama is uber pants. I've got two exercises from Frantic Assembly to do, and Clear The Space to play if they bomb. I don't know what Melissa's doing, but we're meeting tomorrow P1 to put our ideas together and work out what we're doing.

I don't know why I'm so worried, it's not like it's even that big a deal. Hmm.

Laura, Jane and I are walking in the dark and the rain underneath a spooky, deserted closed bridge at about eleven o’clock at night. We are dressed as Spike, Buffy and Drusilla respectively, because it’s Halloween.

Me (Anne): Our lives are fucking weird. I can’t believe this is my life.



I've just spent a good part of my evening laughing hysterically at Anne's brilliant compilation of conversations from the last few years. From real life. We actually have conversations like this. This is what we do.

We're here 'til Thursday.

Try the veal.

I have lost absolutely no weight.

My body wants me to be a horrible fatty.

What more can I do?

Hey. So, this is a catch up.

Number One:
I have begun a routine which means that I go to the gym four times a week and don't snack. Hopefully, I'll shift some weight ready for Corfu because I'm sick of being flabby. No, I won't be my ideal weight in time, because I only have four months, but I'm going to try and lose at least a couple of pounds.

Number Two:
I got 32 out of 40 on my Section B of my English mock. I was quite happy. That's a Band 5 answer, or roughly a B. But only two marks out from an A. Even Mrs Dean said it was impressive.

Number Three:
I've read both of my dystopian novels, which, anyone who knows me can verify, is quite a big deal. So I'm quite proud of that. I'm now reading The Informers by Bret Easton Ellis.

Number Four:
I think Tinie Tempah is my guilty pleasure. And I hate to say it, but the JLS song 'One Shot' is actually quite good as well. In other news, I've been listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack to fight the mainstream-ness.

Number Six:
The end of the last episode of Skins (I mean Thursday's) disturbed me more than it probably should have done. I don't know. It made me quite uncomfortable. All in a bad way.

Number Five:
I did something very important to me last week. And it went better than I expected which is a good and a bad thing.

Number Six:
I'm going to have a bubble bath now, and then Anne and I are going to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D tonight, which should be pretty darn nifty.

Hi blogosphere. I'm back.

I'd write more but I'm currently trying not to go completely apeshit at my brother who has decided not to have the dinner I'm cooking later, didn't get the washing in, looked at me as if I hadn't even spoken when I asked him to do the fire, let the fire I made go out, and, I haven't checked, but after asking him to make sure that the second fire I just made doesn't go out as well, I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be glorious warm flames when I get downstairs.

Eventually.

When I've stopped fuming.

And sending clips of lesbians to my Media teacher. (All will be explained).

Once I've stopped fuming.

You are all lucky people. Ma has let me use her laptop on the understanding that it's only for half an hour and that I don't get greasy fingerprints all over it, because apparently I did last time. I have a feeling this is going to be a fairly long post, so stick with it because it will be interesting.

Due to not having a laptop and all that, I've been feeling rather left out of the internet-social world. I like checking on blogs everyday and numerous something-secrets sites and reading tweets and looking at photos and seeing what's happening in the world.

However, not having my fingers glued to the keys means that I've been able to focus on other things that I would perhaps not have given full attention to in the past. Neatness, for a start. My desk has become a haven for the ordered. Everything has its place. Everything must go in its place immediately upon me dealing with it. Electronic equipment i.e. iPod, camera etc. must face horizontally under each other, unless they are charging. Books must be vertical on the right hand bottom corner. Pens must be in order. Empire magazine may only rest on the desk if I have a bad night's sleep, for easy midnight access. In the morning, my duvet must be folded back so the bed airs through the day, and my pyjamas must be folded neatly on the bottom right hand corner, ready for application come nighttime. The bed must be done before I leave my room in the morning.

Oh good Lord. I think I'm going insane.

In animal related news, we thought Star had done plops on Neil's shoes (I know, I laughed too) until he picked them up and the poo did a huge leap onto the kitchen floor, revealing itself to be a frog that Star had brought in and left as a lovely brown slimy prezzie for us. Also, Ma found some mice in the veranda or the shed or something and then went down the garden to find a dead mousey floating in the watering can. My theory? Ruddles was dangling it above its watery grave by its tail and laughing and taunting it like a madkit until his back leg attacked him whilst he was unprepared (as it so often does) and he dropped mousey-play-friend into the watering can and focused on killing his back leg instead.

Oh dear God. I think I'm even more of a crazy cat lady.

In summary - no laptop/internet means that I have developed OCD, talk about kitties at any given oppurtunity and hand my school work in late.

Send the folk in white round, asap.

P.S. Oscars on Sunday!!

My laptop has a killer virus. Well, perhaps not killer, but it's not good.

So no blogs/tweets/emails for a while, I think. Just warning you.