Oh woe...

I just tried to put this as my facebook status, but I couldn't as facebook informed me I was 2078 characters over the limit. Clearly my 'woe is me' status was far too long and moany. So I've decided to post it here through sheer laziness, because the post I'd decided to write tonight will take me far too long and I'm tired after an 11 hour shift. Hmpfh.

Voila...

Francesca...is having serious University withdrawls, probably the worst in a while. I miss Lancaster, I even miss the weather, I miss county on Sundays, Theatre Group, Tory times in the Sun, girly lunches, boy adventures, furness foyer meets, cocktails in mint, the worst cinema in the world, getting on a number 3, constantly watching Friends, summer bbqs, christmas balls, bonfires and sunrises, aftershow parties, wine in the Friary, fancy dress at least once a week, watching house and drinking soup, multiple spooning and inappropriate touching, political incorrectness gone mad, too many gingers, spending my entire Wednesday in the bar doing theatre stuff, having no money and not caring, postering the spine, health and safety, dancing for hours on a night out, meeting wonderful new people, having all your best friends living within a 2 mile radius (and mostly next door), the funniest drunks in the world, all nighters, red cross parcels from home, "I have nevers", dominoes vouchers, crumbs, Yumi's presents to us all, naked photo shoots, rummaging for costumes in the cupboard and the Grand, GMs, using my brain on a daily basis, messed up sleeping patterns being the norm, nights in the pub becoming nights in the club, trips to ASDA/anywhere in the Beth-mobile, the Lake District, Lazer quest, cheese boards, first nights back, the lovely porters, canal walks, george fox chinese, the many fancy dress shops and their discounts, production weeks and first nights, always missing campaign days, stealing (borrowing) milk/bread etc, tuna pasta lunches, cooking chicken soup and watching Thelma and Louise, uber gossip sessions, impromptu sleepovers, scary basements, the Dallas Palace parties, Crows food and crows tequila and crows sangria, getting on the 12.00 Sunday 2a along with the rest of LUTG, mini trampolines, cans of coke in a pint glass with ice, hangover cures from Spar/still drunken Sunday rehearsals, staying in Lounge 'till 6am for the bacon sandwiches, post-club Pizetta in first year, 'I'm still a Fresher' nights in the Carleton, overly pretentious chats, Shakespeare overloads, essay relief and celebration, nature rambles, constantly quoting Friends ('see you ladle'), The Waterwitch, films at the Dukes that I'd always forget to see, Lambrini and bubble blowing, communal Doctor Who watching and post-episode dissection, door stops, my attendance record vs. other peoples ;-). Things I don't miss: all the goodbyes, faraday computer lab, Nintendo.


See what I mean? I've gone all emo, deary me!

Zzzzzzz

I am tired. Oh so very, very tired.

I also have to work from 2 until 1 tomorrow; it's pound-a-pint-night.

I seem to still be awake.

This would seem to indicate quite an epic fail...

Still, I got to see mummy Beckett today who is back from Australia chock full of amazing stories and a sickeningly good tan to boot. Not only does my mum out do me in the tan stakes (which is really her fault for giving me the pale genes) she's also managed to now go skydiving. TWICE. When your Mum is cooler than you are it's time to give up, no?

I really am going to sleep soon. Mostly because I had half a bottle of wine and some G&Ts with dinner pre-rehearsal and quite a bit of pear cider post-rehearsal; this has lead to quite a nice state of slight tipsyness with that blurry, fuzzy feeling that indicates a deep, deep sleeping beauty style sleep is to come.

It will however be broken tomorrow morning by an alarm, not a handsome Prince. Us modern girls have to look after ourselves. Oh woe.

I appear to be rambling. A good time to end, methinks.

Tess of the D'airbrush

It's not Stricly v.s Xfactor - it's Tess vs Cheryl. And I say give me Tess Daly over Cheryl Cole any day.

Tess has lovely curves, is happily and sensibly married with absurdly cute children and can talk without making me want to hurt her physically. The same cannot be said off Miss Cole, who's ubiquitous presence on my tv and inane, beige observations make it impossible for me to watch her for any length of time without having a rage blackout.

Yes, I'm a Stricly Come Dancing fan (despite 'Brucie' who belongs firmly in the 'rage blackout' camp) and I do love Tess' dresses every week; my hair for my Dad's wedding was inspired by a 'do she had once had. I always feel that she comes across as a very natural woman.

So - shock horror - what on earth has happened in these pictures for a new La Senza campaign? She looks so airbrushed it's unnatural; it's quite badly done (or at least looks so, in my opinion). Look at her inner left thigh - something there isn't quite right, no? I'm quite disappointed and can only hope that she didn't get picture approval on them. I'd hate to think she agreed for such awful images to be published!

Gutted. Still, I've got Claudia Winkleman to crush on.

Very superstitious, nothin' more to say...

I've never been a big believer in the whole 'Friday the 13th' thing. It's always been something to have a laugh and a joke about.

But I've had SUCH mare of a day. And I'm going to use the date as an excuse.

Not only do I now have to wait until after the weekend to hear whether or not I've managed to obtain (despite odds stacked against me) a bloody amazing job, my gorgeous ball gown now doesn't fit thanks to my bloody boobs (aka the banes of my life) and it's only thanks to my Sister and her boyfriend that I can actually go to my ball tonight. They're my new fairy Godparents.

I think everything seems worse because I'm now in a bad mood, so things that I'd normally laugh or brush off (being of quite a chipper disposition) are multiplied tenfold.

Is this illogical? I think I'm allowed to be illogical right now.

Grr.

But it's ok, I will have wine soon. And wine will make everything better I'm sure of it...

Femin-ish-t

I found myself having an internal struggle last week.


A young woman came into my shop, small child in tow, and after much browsing selected a coat she liked. The sleeves however were slightly too long, so I suggested alteration. She merely smiled and told me that her Mum would do it for her.


Now, I don't know why, but I always assumed the ability to sew miraculously appeared after childbirth, much like the knowledge of testing bottles for heat on your wrist. No one teaches it, it's something that Mums 'just know'.


But she has a child! She's a mum! And she can't sew!


Then I felt horrified. I've clearly been unconsciously channelling outdated beliefs. That Mums know how to sew and Dads know how to use a lawnmower.


The little feminist on the shoulder was horrified!!! "How can you think these things" she cried, burning her tiny, tiny bra. "You've been brought up as a modern woman, where stereotypical gender roles are mocked!"


Alas, it's all been a sham. I'm clearly going to end up cleaning my husband’s house all day while the children are at school, waiting for 11am so I can have my first dirty martini.


Provided I can do so dressed head to toe in Chanel and embark on a torrid and doomed affair it might not be so bad.

Highland Fail

So, Glasgow NE.

I was invited campaigning by the lovely Miss Bamford, but had other commitments. A shame really, because I do love a Scottish accent. Obviously victory wasn't expected in such a strong labour seat and we did well to come third, so it wasn't too much of a fail in that sense.

What's shocking is the amount of BNP votes cast. The Tories only recieved 62 more than the disgusting 'political party'. So despite the QT backlash against Griffin and the BNP people have still chosen to cast their vote in favour of a party no intelligent person should bother to even consider.

They're slowly creeping in under the radar, and I find that very, very scary.

Sleep vs. Blogging

Gah, sorry for the lack of blogging going on recently. I've had a very manic week and it's been the choice between sleep and blogging. Sleep won, every time.

I'm composing a post about the lovely Edwina Currie who I had the pleasure of hearing speak last week, and another about power dressing. Funsies. It seems I've become a little bit (!) biased towards political posts depite promising not to. Things in the political world have just been giving me plenty of 'ranting' ammunition over the last few weeks. Although I'm sure this will only increase leading up to the election, so I promise to attempt to not be too much of a bore on here...