...to be abandoned for American football! Alas I am an NFL widow, every Sunday at midnight I am left to amuse myself while the other half watches burly men play a more protected version of rugby. To be honest, it couldn't be a worse time to say the last rites to our relationship for a night. What is there honestly to do this late at night on a Sunday? Why couldn't I just be left to my own devices during a Thursday afternoon, then I could just nip down to Starbucks to consume my new addiction (A peppermint mocha with cream FYI) with some tacky magazine. But I'm stuck here, deported to the bedroom. Confined, and being driven a bit loopy with the urge to do something creative. I opted to paint my nails. I know...my life is a whizz. I can hear you thinking...
Gosh darn, Lara has such an interesting life; if only she updated this blog a little more, then my own life would be fufilled, knowing that she does daily meaningless tasks really gives me purpose to keep on living!
My nails are purple if you want to know.
I've re-discovered a new joy of mine this past week; iPod shuffling. After a year of listening to the same mundane music, I finally got round to bugging mister man to download as much music for me as possible (After him huffing for a few days, and complaining that it would take ages; in reality it took him 3 hours EASY) I updated the poor music block. I have now so much music, I'm honestly spoilt for choice: I'm drowning in bass notes and drum beats! So to get to the point of my ramble, I've opted to continually use shuffle until I get myself acquainted.
There is no greater joy than walking through a crowded Tescos with your headphones in, laughing that these fools don't know your guilty secret...your listening to some UB40...oh...and what's next...some slipknot? Why if they only knew, what would they think of me?! I'll tell you, it's very difficult to avoiding doing some sweet shuffle moves in the dairy aisle when some Michael Buble comes on...you have to contain yourself to maybe a small spin near the tinned ham. Because I doubt they can handle the fact I'm mouthing the words. If I'm not careful they'll think I'm going to put on some one woman Glee performance at the deli counter.
With guilty pleasures and quirks on my mind, is it odd for a 21 year old woman to get slightly teary when she sees someone throwing a teddy bear forcefully? I must be a little bit on the '40 cats short of a spinster'. When out frolicking in the snow (Get your minds out of the dirty slush, I'm just talking about throwing snowballs etc.) I happened to come across a frostbitten teddy-bear sitting on-top of a car, completely immersed in the snow. All I could think is what 'heartless bastards' could leave a poor defenceless fluffy being in the minus degrees weather?! To add to the injustice that was being served, the bear was then heartlessly flung into the street by one of the creatures I was with. I don't think they took the sad look on my face and pleas to 'give it back' were taken with as much sincerity as I would have hoped. I needed to save her. Call me a hero, call me a saint, just call me, my number is 0779**2***1; I'm lonely.
Anyway, I decided to take Holly Bear (Yes, yes, that is her name now) back home. A good wash and dry later, and she has the great honour of being my new Christmas bear. She even has a dress that is red and green. Very pretty. The moral of this story is don't leave Teddies in the snow. You'll make me sad.
So yes. Winter is upon us. Now 6 days in to my advent calender ( A malteasers one may I add, very posh). You really can't beat rolling in a foot deep snow down a hill on the beach. That's right, a bloody beach! Who knew, the world's logic stands on its head in December!
I'll give you a tip, don't have your mouth open in a snowball fight;
1) Screw just yellow snow, ALL snow tastes funky.
2) When a snowball hits the back of your throat, you honestly believe you will choke to death, then it melts and you feel like a fool. A fool!
I'm going to leave you with that beauty of a piece of advice.
I'm wearying, I just want a cup of tea and to put my onesie on. (Yes, I could get lamer if I tried).
Night night my little snowflakes!
ps. Only 19 more sleeps til Christmas!