I Like You.

The music blares, the dance floor bounces and peoples hands are thrown in the air in celebration.

Mazey. The one time of the year that it's okay to end up at Sound (the local night club). Anything goes and everyone is happy and intoxicated. 

Words aren't needed, communication is done through our moved on the dance floor, and thank goodness too because I doubt people have much to say beyond drunkern slurs of "I love you" and other profanities. We're here to have fun, we're here to let our hair down and what a better way to do it than at a town carnival. 

So here are some picture and my song of the night. Love you Lorde

400 Lux - Lorde

"We're never done with killing time, can I kill it with you, till our veins run red and blue....."

"We come around here all the time, got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you...."

"You pick me up and take me home again, head out the window again, we're hollow like the bottles that we drank....."

 

"You drape your wrists over the steering wheel, pulses can drive from here, we might be hollow but we're brave...."

 

 

"And I like you..."

 

 



 

"I love the road where the houses don't change..."

 

 

"And I like you ..."

 

 

 

"Where we can talk like there's something to say..."

 

 

 

"And I like you, I'm glad that we stopped kissing in the dark on the highway, we move in between the streets, I'd like it if you stay...."

 

 

 

"We're never done with killing time, can I kill it with you...?"

 



 



"Till our veins run red and blue."

Peace Out.

 

Just a little quote I plucked out the air

"I love that feeling when you know you're not just wanted, but needed by him. That feeling of irresistible lust and passion. The feeling when the fireworks finally start and everything around drops away until it's only the both of you in the world. But there's one certain thing about great things such as fireworks... They come to an end, and when they come to an end, everyone goes home. And that's the best feeling, knowing that you don't have to stand around and wait for the next show, you get to go home and relive it all again next time."

Summer lovin', hating and everything in between

Welcome to summer guys and girls. But don't get your hopes up too much because then you end up like us, the notorious terrible twosome.

Sat on the bed smoking and contemplating how people flirt in today's day and age, we're both utterly clueless. A newly single and a serial friend with benefits, we're both a little rusty in the dating department. 

An hour later and Miss just-got-out-a-relationship has recieved a Facebook request to sit on some very excited guys face. Maybe we're being too forward? God knows are flirting practise dummy seems to think so.

I've taken a slightly different approach... It's called the sit back, watch and laugh. 

When did flirting become the be all and end all of every sexual partner? My sexy talk/ flirting has always both begun and ended in the bedroom, so why does my availability and general need for sex now have to be posted on social media for all worthy and non-worthy possible fucks to see? 

And when did "I want to sit on your face" become a valid pick up line. Of course you have to respect the guy for putting himself out there so bluntly. 

As newly single as my twosome counterpart is, her own blog post about taking the moral high ground may need rethinking.

"FUCK THE MORAL HIGH GROUND!" We shout as we realise that we've been clearly ruining the first part of our summer. We're young, sassy and the "perfect combination of sexy and cute" to quote the crappy, girly romcom Crazy Stupid Love - a working title for my life. 

Between maybe imagining a cosmic undeniable attraction and sustaining the longest and most successful friends with benefits in history; a terrible love life from the past and the infidelity I promised I'd never committed. Life and love are both very complicated things. 

Whilst all these normal thoughts of a nearly 19 year old student (it's my birthday in 1 hour) are rushing through my brain, who has time to contemplate the mentally exhausted chess game of flirting? 

On Saturday I'll do what I want and act like me. It's not time to be loosing myself and it's most certainly not time for the terrible twosome to stop being terrible.

Peace out.

Birthday Fever

Everyone does it (or at least I hope they do). Your Birthday is around the corner, and all these plans come to mind. What you're going to wear, what you're going to do; who you're going to invite and who you're not. But the day looms closer, reality sinks in. Turns out, no matter how old I am, I'm still not Carrie from Sex and the City and I'm not going to be getting a pair of Manolo Blahnik's for a present, and neither will I be wearing them out for cocktails in London or New York.

They may break my neck but god they're
so beautiful!

Being a country bumpkin and going to university so close to London, it's really easy to get caught up in all the crazy city life. The expensive clothes, the constant glamour and the roof top lunches about 500m from the ground. It's easy to forget my Cornish roots. The most glamorous I've ever been was at my school graduation prom, it's hard feeling comfortable in slacks around slick city chics.

Good bye city life, hello Cornish life

Having to divide your home life and uni life is one of the hardest bits of growing up. Having no choice but to be an adult and have responsibilities at uni and look smart so people take me seriously and then being able to go home, let my down and fit back in to my life on the beach... it's not hard to get lost in yourself. A schizophrenic life.

But fuck it... I'm turning 19, I have my whole life to pretend to be a city chic.

On my birthday I'll be donning a tie die mini dress and boots and hitting the carnival night life of where I live in my little town in little Cornwall. So it's not Sex and the City, and so I was a little disappointed that it wasn't going to be all glam and stuff but this is who I am. Besides, I hate wearing high heels, even if they are Monolo Blahnik's .... So where's that beach?!

Peace Out.

"Why did I ever let you go?"

It's adorable isn't it? You've sat there through the emotional roller-coaster of a Rom-Com. The leading lady has been through so much. She started off as a single girl, feeling lonely because all her friends are happily in love. She probably has a heart breaking unlucky-in-love background and has excepted that she'll be lonely forever. Then a man comes along. He's usually a beautiful Ryan Reynolds looking guy and she falls in love, he breaks her heart and there's a long, wasted period of time in the film where she's back to being her lonely, single self. At the end the guy comes to his senses and makes a massive show of his love and shouts from the roof tops "WHY DID I EVER LET YOU GO?"

How romantic.

But lets stop and think for a second, because I think I've heard this one before. It's called fiction and no matter how beautiful it sounds coming from Ryan Reynold's mouth, it's just simply not that convenient.

"You don't know what you've got until it's gone" seems to have a catch here in reality. And it's called "gone and lost weight, found a skin matching foundation and invested in a new wardrobe".

But the main question here is: What was wrong with me before? Was it that I was too young; had a few pre-adolescent pimples on my face and hadn't yet discovered frizz-ease shampoo? Because here's a shocker, you weren't that pretty yourself.

I'm still the same load mouth, weird and awkward girl that you dated before. And if none of that bothers you, then the reason we broke up, isn't because "it wasn't the right time" or you were "really bogged down with work" but because I just wasn't pretty enough. And now, because according to you I am, I'll get a text message from you declaring (quietly) "WHY DID I EVER LET YOU GO?"

How romantic.

Really, I mean it, I'm thrilled. It's not like I've moved on, grown up and totally forgot we ever dated. Honestly!

At the end of the day, this is just going to cause an awkward situation, ruin the friendship we built up over time and waste a whole evening, dedicating carefully selected words to letting you down in the nicest possible way after you dumbed me on my ass the first time round.

How romantic...

The Last 18th

Nearly two years since the crazy festivities began, all my friends have now successfully entered the part of their life that involves enough alcohol to fill the Dead Sea. Fact. (Well... I can imagine it would).

Every birthday has been different, and some substantially messier than others, but I'm not giving out awards. EVERYONE'S A WINNER!!

This 18th was no different. A weekend of madness which is still going on now, and will for the rest of the week.

So here's a few little snippets from the weekend in crazy drunkern pictures....

I arrived at 9pm on Friday night and walked into a chaos of absolute strangers. And in the half hour she remained with the living, my friend did her best to introduce me to everyone, before running off to the bathroom to flush her memory of the night away... I only wish I had a picture of her bent over a bucket.... Sadly, this will have to do:

The next morning was messy, and a trip into Waterlooville in the same clothes we'd worn the day before without showering is something that is only excusable if it's in the form of a walk of shame. We did see a super cool mini on the way though...

 

The night out in Portsmouth both hilarious an painful... Turns out no matter how drunk you get, you can't get along with everyone, not even your six inch high heels. But if you power through the pain, don some neon gear, you can bop along to the cheesiest pop song in history ... Or just leave and go to another night club. We did both.

(No, I don't know where I god the viser from....)

(... Or the neon shades that look photoshopped onto my face)

The next night club was much more sophisticated... If you ignore the overwhelming smell of sick and B.O. and find a space in the crowd where men don't want to violate your innabiltiy to run away (more issues with the six inch heels).

.... But we're also getting drunker, and I look like a gremlin. But that's what alcohol is all about.

After a long night, and a long taxi journey home, I think Katie's had enough:

Only one night of madness left! And it's to the casino in Gunwarf for a meal and a 'bit of flutter'. But before that a lovely lunch down Southsea with the sun shining and everyone feeling lovely and hungover.

Turns out I'm pretty lucky until a cowboy stands behind me and steals my luck. Bastard.

The birthday cake was pretty awesome though.

Happy Birthday Katie and bye bye Portsmouth. It's time to go back to uni. 

Hello Brighton!

Now it's my sister and all her friends to turn 18... Good grief that'll be a mess.

IT'S CHRISTMAS!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Every year,  my family, and hundreds of other people, head down to Sennen Beach; strip down to our summer time bikinis/swim shorts, and run like headless chickens into the sea for a five minute swim. 

This crazy and probably really stupid tradition is quickly followed by hugging flasks of Horlicks, grabbing the biggest,  warmest, fluffiest jumper you own for the painful walk back to the car.

Ho. Ho. Ho.