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My Wardrobe Has S.A.D

16 Aug

In the spirit of starting in a new office and the idea that you have the chance to reinvent yourself, I have been addressing the current state of my wardrobe, and I assure you that it’s not a pretty sight. If you can imagine a bomb going off in TK Maxx or Primark, then you are probably 90% of the way towards understanding the turmoil of the cupboard. The mantra is, if you can throw it in and shut the door in time to stop everything falling out, then you are cooking on gas.

Not my actual wardrobe.. but if I ever own a dressing gown like that, please somebody shoot me. Immediately.

The first step of this process was to actually sort out what I have in there in the first place. My bedroom is on the ground floor and has limited space, but I have a bathroom a floor up with ceiling to floor wardrobes, stuffed full of clothes. The problem is that I am too lazy in the morning, so have a back up chest of drawers that contain 10% of my wardrobe (call it ‘capsule’ if you will, I think that’s a word that fashonistas and organised people use) and tend to wear the same things every week, leaving me without a clue as to what is lurking behind the mysterious wardrobe doors.

I started a banshee like clear out, throwing everything into the room, and hanging and tidying for what felt like days, until it resembled a well organised shop offering a vast selection of wares in length order, with shoes nestled under the shortest stuff.

This threw up a new problem. It turns out that my sister is right, and all I wear is black, navy, coral, or a combination with some polka dots thrown in for good measure. Christ. My wardrobe has seasonal affective disorder. And fashion (and shopping) are not my forte’s.


So I went shopping with a more fashion forward friend, and tried on a gorgeous dress, which I bought. The problem is, that it came with a net skirt, and while deliberating it in the changing room I nearly caused a woman to suffer death by choking when I innocently asked my friend “but does it make me look like I’m harbouring a secret pregnancy scandal?” It apparently didn’t, so I bought it. Now it’s looking very pretty in my cupboard, but when I put it on I talk myself out of wearing it on the basis that I look like a little girl heading off to a birthday party in her finest party dress. Not a good look for a girl whose ‘glam’ look is wearing a pair of (tiny) heels with her jeans and throwing on a blazer for good measure.

And dresses come with so many conundrums, as I found today when shopping with a friend for the summer party we are going to tonight. After she bought a new dress, we headed straight to Marks and Spencer’s for girdle style hold-it-all-in pants, which would go as high as our neck and as far down as our knees, to prevent us from looking like a condoms stuffed with walnuts. It was an interesting experience. I picked up a dress style weapon of torture, dreaming that it would make me look like Gisele on a thin day, and went to try it on.

The reality of it was that I spent 20 minutes in the changing room in diving position with it round my shoulders, wondering how the hell I was going to get it off. I had visions of falling out of the changing room door in nothing but my knickers and a rubber ring of girdle stuck round my neck, for all to see and if I’m honest, the panic set in and I began to believe that I was going to be hampered with this unusual body addition for the rest of my life.

During this low point, I sympathised with the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and had to talk myself off the ledge of thinking I was going to be ostracised by society. I did eventually get it off (after sweating about a stone of weight off) and managed to give myself a nosebleed in the process.

If that’s fashion, then I will put my pyjamas on and politely decline!

How To… Learn New Names. Or Give People Different Ones!

9 Jan

Don’t worry, I haven’t turned all educational for 2012 and decided to bring you quick and easy how to guides on DIY and decorating and such. Release sigh of relief! But having made it through the first week as the new girl in a big office I have observed that I have unusual and slightly eccentric methods for remembering names.

It turns out that I make up little songs in my head. A lot.  It’s a bit of a baptism of fire when you are walked around the office on your first day and introduced to smiling faces. You repeat “Haaaiii! I’m Laura!” in your most faux laid back voice, while in your head you quietly panic that you can’t even remember the name of the girl introducing you to these people, let alone begin to remember their names. So, I panicked, and in my normal idiot fashion made a few comments that I wished I hadn’t said. I’m getting more comfortable around these people after a week, but a few faux pas’ still pop up and say hi every now and then. Its made all the more uncomfortable that there is one ever-so friendly guy who greets me in the morning with “Hi Laura!”lovely, but for the first three days I couldn’t for the life of me recall his name, so muttered something unintelligible into my scarf in a panic and sat at my desk.

The songs. For example…. I thought one guy was called Ed. The song went… Glasses on his head, he’s called Ed. Simple, and when I looked at him I remember his name. I’ll soon banish this embarrassing forgetting of names with a witty ditty! I thought.

Turns out it wasn’t. When talking to the marketing girls, they mentioned said Ed, and I responded… “The one with the glasses?” Cue fits of giggles from them, and the voice in my head sounding like a naughty little child shouting “WHAT DID YOU SAY WRONG THIS TIME??!”  To cut a long story short, actual Ed had just returned from holiday and had the classic sunglasses tan. Ed in my head actually wasn’t called Ed at all.

And then I noticed I do it on the train too. Spending 2 hours on the train every day means I look at people. It passes the time. In fact, I am writing this on the train now and currently sharing a carriage with Captain Beerswill, who looks like a pirate and is swigging fosters, fresh from a hard day pillaging and looting. Then there is Lord Totally-Shagging-His-Secretary; a man who is switching between two phones and looking suspicious, and Twitchy Twitcherson, a woman whose eyes are darting about at record speed. She clearly knows more about terrorism than we do…..

The key to naming your travelling buddies and new colleagues is fairly simple. A cardinal rule is to never call them another christian name. For example if the new girl you sit next to in the office looks like a girl called Jessica you used to work with, don’t nickname her that. Chances are you’ll call her it and embarrass yourself, plus it will get stuck in your head and you’ll find it far harder to remember her actual name.

There is an exception to this rule: alliteration nicknames. Take Harry Halitosis on the train or Betty Bounce-alot at the gym… There are no chances you’ll confuse them as their real names!

Try it out! Who are your nickname regulars?

Horatio the Hotty just got on the train…. This could make the journey quicker. But actually I think I’ll just call Anthony the Awesome, after all, that’s his real name.

I’m not the only one who nicknames either… Read BreezyK’s post Barb the Boozebag? Meet Larry loves everybody for some humourous nicknaming on the other side of the pond.

If you aren’t already, follow me on Twitter and Facebook for snippets of special!

*New Years Resolution Update: Played crazy golf this weekend, but not sure this counts towards my unusual thing for the month so im leaning towards a visit to the Ice Bar in London. Exciting!!

Guest Post ~ Negative Nancy

21 Nov

Brooke and McKenzie have written todays guest post on friends and how different personalities have an impact on us. Read it and then head over to their blog because its jam-packed with fantastic posts about their mission to find Mr Right and the hijinks they get up to in the process.

I heart them, and I’m sure you will too.

Happy Monday 🙂

‘Belle xx

We are very excited to write a guest post for Tinkerbelle and although our blog is mainly about our dating and relationship mishaps, we are going to steer away from the opposite gender in this post and talk about platonic relationships. More specifically we want to share how important we think it is to maintain a positive attitude in life. After all, life is too short to waste it being miserable and trying to make others around you miserable as well, and the best memories we have are the good ones.

The Negative Nancy…

1.       Someone who commonly whines, complains, or looks at the bad side of things.

We have a friend who shall be nicknamed “Negative Nancy.” She has earned this nickname because by all definition of the word; she is a pessimist and views the glass as half empty all the time. There isn’t one day that goes by where we don’t hear from her whining or complaining about how every single thing in her life is unfair. She writes to ask how our day is but we feel that she does not even care for what answer we give because once she has your attention, she selfishly complains non-stop. She complains about everything from how much she hated her co-workers at her old job and how unhappy she is with her new job. She complains about any boyfriend she has had, her family and even daily routines like the coffee she is having and how she’s not enjoying it and how unhappy she is with her outfit choices. Because of her constant complaining, it has started to affect her daily life. Her constant Negative Nancy attitude has pushed away all of her friends and ruined her relationships. It seems that even when you try to show her some positivity she gets frustrated as if she’s happier being gloomy and wants you to sulk with her.

We had a girl’s vacation for a week to an all-inclusive resort with great food, beautiful weather, unlimited drinks at a 24 hour bar, one of which was a swim-up bar. What more could we want. The four of us were celebrating 10 years of friendship. Before going on the trip, 3 of us discussed how we were going to try to ignore Negative Nancy as much as we possibly could because by knowing her for 10 years we realized that a week with her was bound to create some issues.

It didn’t even take more than a day for Negative Nancy’s dark clouds to start looming over us. We were travelling overnight so that we would be there early in the morning an extra day of paradise.  As soon as we got in we enjoyed drinks outside, the ocean and the pools but as dinner rolled around Negative Nancy said she was feeling cranky because she was tired, to not let her gloom ruin our first day she went to bed early as we enjoyed dinner, made many new friends and went out to the clubs outside the resort. The next day when we told her about how eventful our first night was she was very upset that we did this without her. Apparently our world should’ve stopped because she was grumpy.

The negativity continued when we introduced her to the new friends we made as throughout the week she constantly criticized them and was anti-social. Out of the seven days we were there, we all can agree that we had fun with her on one day, the rest were made painful in one way or another.

There was days she was being “grumpy,” days she was being anti-social and days where she was disagreeing with the rest of us just because she was in a bad mood. We started to get more and more agitated with one another and whenever she wasn’t around was the times we were truly enjoying being on vacation. Overall, neither one of us would wish to ever go on a vacation or anything like that with her again.

That day we realized that having such a negative and selfish source in our lives would eventually start to turn us into negative and very anxious people. We then decided that we wanted to give her an intervention but where would we start? What would we say?

An idea I had was to ask her to write or talk about one positive thing a day. Or as a Christmas present I have joked about giving her a jar filled with positive things and what she should be thankful for.  We would love to give her an intervention. Bottling up so much negativity and anger cannot be good for anybody’s health emotionally and physically. As well by acting this way she is pushing away all the people who care about her as she selfishly refuses to get help and gets angry if it is offered.

What do you guys think, is an intervention necessary? What would you do if this was your friend? 

Brooke and Mckenzie

Funny Friday ~ Hallowe’en Freaky Fun

28 Oct

What with Hallowe’en being on Monday, I thought it would be fun to make a little mischief and get you all giggling. So without further ado, please prep your sides for four of the funniest and most interesting blog writing women I know (plus moi). This had me in stitches, and I hope you all agree!

(Disclaimer… Although fabulous, we are not available for shows unless you are paying at least a million each. And then we will consider it).

Pay them a visit!

The Redneck Princess (@DoMaH64) aka Franken-rapper
Jules (@Julie_Davidoski) also known as Dracu-MC
Maggie Mae (@maggiemaesdays) – The Rappin’ Mummy
Karyn (@ KarynAPyle) also known as MC Wicked Witch.

Happy Hallowe’en everyone!

The One Where We Went To Brighton

18 Oct

As I promised, I had vowed that this weekend was going to be not about stressing, but about really spending some me time and hanging with the ones I love. So Saturday I met a good friend of mine for lunch, and we chilled in a beer garden and got burnt. In the middle of October. I’m not entirely sure what this year is coming to, but when people have been laughing at you for not clearing out your handbag and getting rid of the sun cream, you do get a bit of a smug feeling when you rock it out of your bag and use it to protect your sizzling skin. Point to moi. Small victory.

In the evening the same friend was joined by one of my closest friends, and we made nachos (don’t get me wrong, they were a budget nachos, not the type you get in a fancy restaurant) and pigged out on chocolate oranges, which is by far my favourite thing to do.

And then on Sunday…. Brighton. I was a little sceptical about Brighton at first, what with it being a beach resort and it being cold. But my arm was twisted (doesn’t help when you live with your best mate so she knows that your alternative is staying under your duvet and sleeping the day away).

I went with my two best friends, who never fail to let me down. There is no way you will be having a bad day with those two around, and so I can’t think of anyone I would have rather spent my selfish weekend with. The road trip was hilarious:

“Can you fetch my sunglasses Em, they are to your right?…. Nope, other right…..”

Emma “You know that exit we just passed? We should have taken that one. I wasn’t going to say….”

Our first stop was lunch. We were so hungry we could have nommed on a scabby horse, so as Mexican makes me sick, our second choice was burgers. Mmmmmmmmmm.

And then we wound round the lanes, poking into little dress shops and Brighton’s famous sex shops

Charlotte “Where does that even go??!”

And stopping to peer in the windows of a multitude of boutiques. And then we hit up the proper shops. Two hours later, and loads of photos of us trying on various silly hats later, we discussed the beach. It had looked so promising as we had driven up the promenade; the sun dancing on the waves and fracturing like diamonds, but now it was late and we were tired, and chilly. Back in the car and home.

That evening we all snuggled up on the sofa and watched Xfactor. If you are out of the UK then you won’t know what I mean, but the Xfactor is a bit hit and miss, as always.

We have this one guy called Johnny who they dressed as an alien on the first week and got him to sing Cher. It’s all a bit circus-bizarre if you ask me! Which they haven’t, otherwise I’d be marching them all off to Topshop.

Emma “I think that Frankie is fit.”

Me “the one with the guy liner and the birds nest on his head? The one who looks like he got his jeans sprayed onto him and wiggles his hand like he is having a seizure? Give over?!”

Charlotte “Emma, my mums fitter than that. And her jeans fit her better.”

At this point Emma laughed so hard that she had to go to the loo. And that’s the kind of laughter you want in your life!

Mental Moments

23 Aug

Inside every normal girl is a complete nut job. I say this with love girls, but it’s true. There are certain times in our lives where we look back and think, “wow, that was a total losing it moment”. It’s normally when alcohol is involved, or down to a particularly hormonal week of our lives, but one thing we can be sure of is that we all have them. It just depends how we deal with them.

My nut job calming plan is calling my sister. I can call her in hysterics because I stubbed my toe and it was the final straw that turned me from sane and rational to total knife wielding maniac, or when I just need to say something inappropriate and not be judged. A friend of mine’s classic moment was calling her boyfriend in the region of thirty times on a drunken night out, and then when she finally got hold of him, asking him to stop calling her when she was out with the girls.

My personal favourite was when I was having a particularly highly strung episode and I called my sister in full blown nuttiness, to sob down the phone that I was concerned that I had taken too much night nurse, and might wet myself in my sleep. OK so NOW I know that was a bit irrational, but at the time I was genuinely inconsolable at the fact that my cold and flu medicine might cause me to have an accident. Pre menstrual? Go figure.

Another friend, upon discovering her ex boyfriend who she had split up with, had a new girlfriend, took to a few of his t-shirts with a pair of scissors, and decimated them to tiny little squares. She also shattered a few CD’s, and when the red mist cleared, realised her mistake. She had quite liked those t-shirts and had intended to keep them for herself!

I had a particular rant in the office yesterday, when explaining a situation to a colleague who had been away for a few weeks, I found myself getting irate with a glue dot machine. I ended up furious, covered in sticky glue dots and none the better, with him saying “I think maybe it’s time to stop glue dotting now, don’t you?”

So I honestly have to hand it to some of the men around us. Ex boyfriend dealt with period issues with gusto, arming himself with a box of tissues, a chocolate orange and my mobile when I was hormonal; upon the onset of tears a bath would be run, a chocolate orange lobbed at me like a grenade, and my sister speed dialled. He would then take my car and go to the pub, trapping me in the house and thus protecting any innocent member of the public from a rant should I decide to do something like pop to the supermarket. And men seem to handle girl issues with their trademark diplomacy; a pat on the head when in tears is one of my favourites, followed by the provision of a girlfriend, and then a swift and timely exit. One boyfriend actually asked me once if I would like a jam sandwich when I found out my great-grandmother had died; it was as if he remembered what his mum used to offer when he was an injured child and replicated the cure. A jam sandwich!

So let this be said, a nutty moment is something to be embraced, at least we can look back over a cup of tea with the girls on a dreary Sunday and laugh!

Reasons To Be Cheerful

5 Aug

A girl will have different types of friends in her life, and this will never change regardless of her age, hair style or choice of partner. Men will come and go; sometimes at a rate of knots and sometimes at a leisurely pace, depending on where you are in your life. There will be births and deaths, high days and holidays, but your friends will remain consistent, like the changing of the seasons.

But there are different types of friends, aren’t there? There are the jellyfish ones, where they sneak in a sting which you don’t notice for a while, like “oh I love that dress. I have it! But a size smaller.” (“Oh I know, I like it, it’s….. B*@TCH!)” Or “you’ve lost weight!! Your wings look toned!” (“Why thank you… wings, what wings? Is she referring to my BINGO WINGS? B*@TCH!”), the ones who will go shopping with you and tell you that you look fantastic in those trousers that you are umming and aahing over, the ones that are bang on trend but you think make you look a little bit like you’ve been shoehorned into them, only for you to get home and your boyfriend laugh at you for a solid ten minutes uttering “no darling, they look great. I’m just remembering a joke from the pub”.

But then you have the other ones. The ones that are there for you in times of need, when you are crying so hard that there is snot all over their shoulder and you sound like Darth Vader, who will laugh with you once they have picked you up from falling face first in a very public place, or take you to the hospital when you have had one too many and walked into a lamp post. The ones who will support you whatever you do; fully ready to laugh with you when you reminisce, but defend your honour when necessary. The ones who are totally mental, but you love them. The ones who are ruthlessly inappropriate to the point that you laugh so much you feel a bit sick, and the ones that you would rush to their side and dust them down when their boyfriend “isn’t sure about a future”. And the ones who never change, no matter where in the world you are and who you become. The girls who stick by your side when times get tough.

So take the time to say thank you for their support. And if they are anything like my crones they’ll say “aaaaaah… stop being such a knob. Did someone interfere with your drink?!”

The Green Eyed Monster

30 Jul

He who envies others does not obtain peace of mind. Buddha

It’s easy to say that when you are a guru who is tranquil and at peace with himself, swanning around in your towel smiling at people, but in modern times it is more difficult to apply to actually day to day life. We’ve all had fits of envy at one point or another; envying your housemate as you head off to work in the morning when she has a lay in on her day off, or eyeing up your boyfriends burger in that fancy restaurant because you went for the salad and now regret it; we have all envied another at some point in our lives.

A few weeks I listened to a conversation between two of my friends; one married and one single. One discussed how she missed the comfort of a relationship while the other came back with a counterargument of how she longed for a life of being selfish and not reporting to anyone. Both had valid points, and despite being happy in their current situation, both were a tad envious of the other.

It led to a poll of my nearest and dearest to establish if there are any amusing little things that they miss about a life they used to lead. And true to the nature of them, they came up with some winners.

My coupled up friends, whether married, cohabiting or simply a deux came up with some corkers. One commented that for JUST ONE WEEKEND she would like to be able to have a night in with her fella and watch a film, without having to ensure with military precision that it finished before Match of the Day started. Another said that she would like the chance to be able to have a bath without her boyfriend coming in and having a wee. She said it somewhat ruined the relaxation of having a nice bath, which made me giggle as I remembered when i used to live in the cottage. We only had one loo, so if ex-boyfriend needed the loo I was forced to stick my head under the water and wait till he was finished. It was fine when we actually liked each other, as I could cope with suffocation briefly, but as it got towards the end of the relationship I would be heard telling him to go in the garden, and the moment I got out of the bath I would get knocked over as he pegged it at brake neck speed into the bathroom. I know, I am horrible.  Another friend said that he missed not having to dust the skirting boards. Haha.

The singles among my friends didn’t fail to disappoint either.  One friend said that he missed being in a couple because it made it really expensive to get home in a taxi once the tube was shut.  Another missed feeling poorly and having someone be really sympathetic, but not having to be at all sympathetic when it was the other way round. I can sympathise with this one. when I split up with first-boyfriend, I used to miss having someone I could ring when I was out with the girls and really didn’t feel well, to come and pick me up and be all nice about me being poorly, rather than telling me to man up and stop having too much wine.

Whether you are part of a twosome (resisting the urge to say gruesome twosome here for some of you J ) or whether you are free and single, what are the things that you miss? And I’m looking for funny little titbits here, rather than soppy stuff. This is neither the time or the place!

City Love

11 Jul

As Lenny Henry says, at the end of a week is a weekend. And thank goodness there is. This weekend I spent two lovely days with friends in Central London; around St John’s Wood, Paddington and Covent Garden, and it was great fun.

Catching up, eating BBQ food, marvelling at the rain “it can’t keep this up!” “Shut up mate, were you not at Isle of Wight? It rained for 16 hours!!” and playing drinking games before heading to a really fun American club where a death metal singer belted out classics from the Black Eyed Peas and Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. It was odd, but it was good. We bounced around to Greenday and Bon Jovi and then the club went back to a normal establishment, like nothing had ever happened.

There is something about London in the sun. We sat in the little decking garden and sipped on Pimms, and the sun shone enough that we all had to put our sunglasses on. We got a bit delirious and realised that our friend Ben looks like Bruno Mars, Jen looks like Sinead O’Connor and Brendon looks like a tennis player, so much hilarity was had as we photographed them with pictures of their dopplegangers. And then we headed to Covent Garden which is beautiful in the evenings when the weather is balmy and people have smiles on their faces.

It’s all about getting out of the country when we have time off; bathing in the sun on the beaches and dining on the local food, but actually England is fantastic. London has so much to offer and it seems dead grim in the wet, but when the sun comes out there is so much more of a community feel; people smiling and saying thanks, picnics on the parks and music in the sun. My favourite is Kensington Park and the Serpentine Lake because I  love sitting down at the water with Kensington Palace as my backdrop. It makes me feel like part of The Bathers by Georges Seurat.

I remember the first time I went to the National Gallery with school and meandered round the Impressionist section, turning the corner and seeing a Monet, and thinking how fantastic it was, and then turning the corner and seeing this one.  Its massive; it takes up a whole wall in the gallery and is so delicate. Hundreds and thousands of tiny dots make up such a large piece and it’s intricate and beautiful. So when I sit at the Serpentine Lake, reading my book or having a picnic with my friends I imagine we are some of the modern-day bathers, and it makes me smile.

What do you love about your home town?


22 Jun

Drinking games are quite possibly the silliest thing ever. No one can remember the rules of new ones, so you always end up playing the same ones and getting slightly tiddly.
Ring of fire is the worst. Everyone knows different rules and there are different characters that people assume when playing the game.

Rule Hitler. The rule hitler knows the rules of the game and generally tries to ruin the fun for everyone else. For example, if a seven is a ‘pose master’ in their world, but someone else suggests that it might be ‘rhyme’ then the Rule Hitler gets upset. The Rule Hitler may also whip out a pen and paper that they have had concealed about their person and write down what they feel the rules are, so everyone is clear (and rolling their eyes with fun ruining desperation).

The Beer Bullies The Beer Bullies, normally boys, are the ones that psychically pick someone that they feel isn’t as drunk as everyone else of isn’t getting into the spirit of the game as much as they would like, and therefore choose that person to drink at every opportunity. Its normall y a team effort, and often ends in the victim having to go and have a lie down as they have peaked too soon.

The Stickler. The stickler is the one that imposes the rules through the game when people have become too drunk to stick to them.

The sound effects team. Often supporting the Beer Bullies, the sound effects team make oohing and aahing noises when people are drinking, “oh you must” when rules are being enforced, and shout “down it!!” when people are having to drink. Generally make the whole game more fun.

So, in case you are not familiar with the much loved Ring of Fire, there are some rules. I only have a faint grip on these as I normally rely on the fact that one of my friends falls into the Rule Hitler category (not a bad thing) and therefore I don’t have to know. Basically, its a pack of cards that are laid out in a ring. Under no circumstances are you allowed to break the ring (not sure why). You pick a card, turn it over and assume the rule assigned to the card. Five might be rhyme, so the person that turned the card starts with a word and it goes round the circle until you cant think of anymore rhyming words. The person that gets stuck has to drink. Seven might be pose master (hiliarious photo of us at the festival all saluting, with me commenting “why were we doing this?!!” and my friend wisely responding… posemaster.) the person who turns the posemaster card has free reign to strike a pose at any time, and if you arent paying attention and are the last to do it, you drink. So pretty much all rules make you drink. You never get to the end of the game; people get bored and as you get more drunk your own conversations spring up through the circle until it is abandoned.

Another boy rule that seemed to be adapted at the festival was not saying mine. Apparently the word mine is completely forbidden, and if you innocently said it (“whose cider is that?” “oh, its mine!”) you were screamed at to drop and give them twenty. Push ups. Im not sure why, and I cant do one press up without eating the grass so they soon got bored of trying to make me do it due to my pathetically weak upper body strength, but their attempts to con people were quite ingenious. Emma fell prey to it after she was asked “what was that thing called that those miners got stuck in? You know Em, under the ground??” Emma, pleased to know the answer said “it was a mine” and was attacked with shouts of “AHAHAHAHA!!! Drop and give me TWENTY!!!!”