28 Feb 2010

Keeping up with the Joneses

My family is strange. I know most people say that about their families but seriously, my are a tad weird, not even strange, just plain weird. The only two other families which could possibly (definitely) be stranger are the Hutchins' and Sherlock's...they are off their tits 24/7. 

Today was my Dad's turn to be a 'joker' in a 'Dad-sort-of-joker' type of way. He has his own sense of humour which comes from two sources. One, he's old. Two, he's from Birmingham and Brummies are nuts, whenever I'm up there visiting family I need a high dose of sugar intake beforehand to keep up with them, especially my cousin.

Today's jokerly antics from my father:

1) 10 minutes after finishing our Sunday roast (which was nom), my mum huffily got up and said "Alright then I'LL get dessert, you know, I've only made the beds, done the washing and ironing and made this bloody dinner today" To which my dad replied "Yeah you should you haven't done anything for the past five minutes *sips wine and carries on reading paper*" OOOOHHHHH dangerous move from the father. For me and my brother it was like watching a wrestling match. Aaaaannnnd in the red corner we have THE MOTHER with PMT who at any moment could throw left over steak and kidney into any direction! Aaaaaand in the blue corner we have THE FATHER with an extremely dry sense of humour and risky behaviour brought on by the wine! It was tense. Mum mumbled something inaudible as a reply as mothers do, to which my father went "Shush and get back in the kitchen" OOHH OH OH OH! Hilariously harsh but my mum forgave him after he groped her from behind. *stares* I'm all for PLEASE not in front of the CHILDREN. *runs*

2) While we were all watching tv together as a family this afternoon (Dad reading paper, Mum filing, me on itouch on twitter, brother on be fair we were in the same room together which is rare) Dad broke the silence and stated "According to this article it costs over £2000 a year to raise a child. Let's sell one one of ours. *gets out a coin* Right Louise heads or tails?" The sincerity in his voice was alarming. Me and Matt just stared at him and said nothing *tumbleweed* He got the picture and went on to explaining the government to us instead. I left soon after.

3) My mum has gel nails, they're not fake, but she has a gel coating on them which look fake but it's healthier..oh stuff it they're fake I have no idea what I'm going on about. They fall off, which says to me that they're fake. ANYWAY. One fell off at dinner, oh how hygienic yes I know, and my brother found a cornflake on the floor, oh how hygienic again, and placed it on mum's real nail going "Oh look that looks even better!" My dad unbeknown to the fact that actually one had fallen off went "That's a nice colour, you should have had all the nails like that..." "Martin it's a cornflake you tit head." I love my mum.

More Dad type stuff probably happened but to be quite frank I'm on a high from Danny getting 22 in DOI and can't think straight.

Going back to my estranged family and how different we are, we are also alike in many ways. I am talking about my cousins here. I only have 3 cousins, most people have like 14345265, and they all live AGES away *sad face*. One lives in Birmingham and the other two have lived in Canada all their lives. There are three of us girls and two boys. Us girls are Lauren (in Canada age 25) Louise (in Essex aged 16) and Lily (in Birmingham aged 13) Observation number one, we are all L.Jones'. Observation (well if you've seen us) number two, we are all tall, slim (not so slim for me) and have identical hair (until I dyed it) OKAY SO MABYE WE'RE NOT ALIKE. But until last year we were. All blonde hair, all tall, all skinny, all spoke exactly the same (apart from accents) Oh fuck it this paragraph was totally not needed, did not make any sense in the slightest and you all are probably reading this going "Wtf is this girl on *stares around at others shrugging*"

THIS WEEKEND I BECAME ORGANISED. *opens arms wide, head up, wind blows around dramatically* Yesterday I planned my Art coursework and finished all but one page of my Textiles coursework. Today I carried out two tasks I planned in my Art coursework and did a French essay. The 'rents nearly died in shock when I shoved it in their faces just to prove I DON'T just sit on my laptop all day staring at a screen...I do...but I'm a woman I can mulit task. I only have just over a month till my first GCSEs. 'But in the last blog you were slagging off GCSEs and that you didn't care about them?' I changed my mind. I'm a hormonal teenager I'm allowed. *sticks out tongue* So I figured I should get myself prepared and work extra hard to get all A*s, As and Bs in my results. I WILL I WILL I WILL. Motivation part of blog over.

I have also come to the conclusion that I have a lot of different thoughts swimming round my fragile mind, I change those thoughts constantly, and I am very paranoid. I should probably sort that out.

I have also also found out that my life isn't complete and I need to take part in the ritual of watching and reading The Godfather. *shrugs* Okay.

And that was a very random blog from a very worn and stressed out teen. I bid you adieu and promises of a better blog next time. X

22 Feb 2010

Alright GCSE term?

Oh well hello run up to GCSEs...GO THE EFF AWAY. Do I really need good GCSE results to become a writer? Surely THESE can be my results? People recommending me and asking me to work for them can be my results? I don't need letters on a piece of paper for proof that I am capable of working, especially for what I want to do in life. I don't need a list of subjects I hate to have a letter next to them, and that letter expressing how good I am in that subject. No. That letter will signify if I LIKE that subject. Not how good I am in it. I know that I am smart and other people know I'm smart, so why bother with all the stress and work just for some letters? "These results will affect your WHOLE LIFE and employers will look at these results and that A* instead of an A could determine whether you get a job!" ....No it won't! Maybe it will show what I like/dislike and what I probably excel in, but to be honest the way I present myself at an interview, my experience and personality will determine more if I get a desired job? Am I right?

RANT OVER. Today was 'back to school' day. *sob* Getting up at 7am hurt me inside. Plus it was chucking it down outside, cheers for that mother nature. Mum said she'd give us a lift though, win. *minutes tick by* "MUM we need to go!" "Okay Matt have you got everything?" "....I haven't done my PE kit!" I'd like to point out that is was 8.10am and school starts at 8.25am. Finally we left but MUm decided to stop off at the co-op to get some bean sprouts (?) so by the time we got near the school, the traffic was crazy (8.20am) NICE ONE. What a marvellous day this was going to be. I evidently got into form late, oh well, dripping wet as we ended up jumping out of the car on the main road and running the rest of the way. God I looked hot.

Physics. My teacher didn't do himself any favours by turning up on the first day back to a gaggle of rowdy year 11s with a plaster slapped across his clearly swollen nose. Nadia and Ronan are in my science classes, therefore I had to turn round and silently laugh hysterically at them about this incident. Oh we're so mean, but I HATE the man therefore I don't care. The rumours flew round the class in seconds. "He probably just fell over a shoe." "No, he fell down the stairs." the majority thought. "His chinese mum hit him with her handbag" Was my personal favourite.
He is incredibly strange is he. We were meant to be doing a presentation on stars on the laptops today, so we went on Google maps and looked up the Eastenders set instead. He came over a bit later, looked down at Nadia's lap and went "I don't think you've got the right equipment." That was it for me. I quick delved under the table because I 'dropped my pen' and came up for air when he left, face streaming with tears for laughing so much. "'You've not got the right equipment'? Well I don't have a penis sir, I'm pretty sure I have a very womanly vagina." I LOVE NADIA.

The jokes kept rolling on in Biology. We somehow got onto the topic of when you're 'on', what if when your egg comes out, it was an actual sized egg...Yes, we are 16 year olds in year 11, oh so mature. Other people think of these things though...don't then. Then Ronan goes "Okay so would you rather be 'on' and have normal bits of pain for a week, or, have an actual egg come out your vajayjay and be in excrutiating pain for 20mins?" "20MINS?! IT TAKES 20MINS?!" Nadia seemed in real shock at this. "I don't bloody know I haven't asked a chicken how long it takes them to squeeze an egg out, I'm guesstimating!" Oh God that might not seem hilarious but at the time we were in FITS and nearly on the 'being sent out' list. Rebels.

The womanly parts conversation carried out throughout the whole day, diverting into Embaressing Bodies and whatnot. But I am NOT going into what talk we had about that.

Something amazingly wierd happened earlier. We were eating dinner and Dad showed me an article in the paper about 'Birthday Numbers'. Somehow they had come up with some sort of way of calculating 'your' number, but using your birthday. My Dad worked out mine. My number is 4. Now look at what it says but I guide your focus to the last sentence. Oh. Em. Eff. Gee. X

Well that was better wasn't it.

wow, Wow, WOW! Oh my baby Jesus Dancing on Ice was INCREDIBLE! Easily the best TV show I've been to, and totes made up for Thursday's shenanigans...
Saturday night me and Mum spent half the night working out a route to Elstree...then another one...and another...and a fourth just in case. Oh yes we were PREPARED this time, overly some might say but at least this time we wouldn't be stranded in the middle of London.

With more than a few arrangements up our sleeves, we set off at 1pm and was there by 1.45pm, didn't get lost, even if we did have to go round a roundabout three times, DOESN'T COUNT. We parked opposite the studios and joined the end of a the very short queue, we just assumed it was the Dancing on Ice queue, there were no signs up saying it was and wasn't very obvious. However the family in front who seemed to know EVERYTHING about Dancing on Ice and skating in general (it sounded like they had a script about all they've done and seen, yawn, ready to tell anyone around who was said it was, so we munched on sandwiches and @salihughes' birthday cake, nom, see told you we were prepared.

So an hour into this next TV drama things were going well, it was sunny, not raining, we were at the front of the queue and eating lunch. Marvellous. No, there is no BUT, it really WAS marvellous.

At 3.30pm my toes had once again frozen and were threatening to break off at any given moment, I even wore my uggs this time which turned out to be no help whatsoever, although for the two and a half hours we waited, I got incredibly distracted by a rather gorgeous looking man in front of us in the queue...kept me busy. Then the ticket guy, not Martin the very funny small camp gay, came out and sorted us out into priority and non-priority. Now up to this point we were content and everything was going swimmingly well...then this guy started pulling people out and started a new priority queue...a long one...100 people...oh shit. We already knew the studio was going to be smaller than expected and they would need to sort out the skaters' family and friends first, but no one warned us about PRIORITY TICKETS. Me and Mum quick glanced at horror at each other then went on to glare at all the priority snobs who were starting to get red wristbands. HOWEVER. I had my lucky bracelet on which is also red, a clear sign things were going to go well...right...yes but again...we got wristbands! Only just though, as the family behind us got raffle tickets, which were to be drawn if there were seats available after us wristbanders had been seated. After kissing my wristband and clinging on to it for dear life, we were 'processed and fed through to the holding area' *tumbleweed* Yep, that's how they phrased it, we now seemed to be some sort of animal or other being, we felt like we were going to get gassed or something. Worrying.

ALAS NO, this 'holding area' was a hall filled with warmness, hot drinks and chairs...I didn't sit on them, oh no, I was sticking to the plan of being as close to the door as poss in order to run and grab good seats when we were called, genius. So while Mum spend 40mins at the end of the hot drinks line, what did I do? I'll give you three guesses. Of course I went over my contract on Twitter. Bring on my bill O2.
I heard up to "Would wristband numbers 100..." before I legged it to the door, they could have said "Go home you're all too ugly for this show" and would've sprinted through the gate to the studios. After passing the Big Brother portacabins where @jonalmond works (I was the only one jumping with excitement over them...not literally jumping over them ...) we were through a door leading right to the studio, WOAH it was TINY. We were given two seats and just watched the others come in, and not a lot of people followed us, then we looked round and saw that at least 80% of the seats had white paper saying reserved on them, we were LUCKY to get in! My lucky bracelet was clearly involved.

We didn't even have to wait a long time to see the slebs and family piling in, I kept a beady eye out for Danny's fam (who I know) and found them sitting right beside us! Wahay, obviously more help from the bracelet. But (yes NOW there's a but) then we heard the annoyingly distinctive voice of Andy...the effing warm up guy...thank God he wasn't in our view cos we would have leapt across that ice, strangled him, and given him a £90 bill for Friday morning's taxi *glares hard*. After the boring ever so familiar *rolls eyes* Vegas dance and adverts game (people around us gave us strange looks when we imitated what he was about to say) the show began! Live on ITV1...bloody brilliant.
Although before the show began we were introduced to the people who hold the show together, all the judges (I had to restrain Mum when Angela Rippon swanned past us in that dracula outfit) Torvill and Dean, and Phillip and Holly. Oh. My. Days. Holly Willoughby is absolutely GORGEOUS. I was so mesmerised when I first saw her. Her figure, her hair, her features and her dress were so stunning I would definitely turn lesbian for her. No joke. Her and Phillip walked past us a lot during the show and there were loud sighs coming from me and Mum, her for Phillip and me for Holly. I adore her and love her nearly as much as Davina McCall.
In the breaks the funniest thing I saw were the make up girls running on and tidying up how the judges looked. They put a ton of make up ON JASON GARDINER'S HEAD. HAHAHAHA! I have never seen a funnier sight. And although I missed the Baftas, the award for cutest child EVER goes to India, Gary Lucy's daughter. She is ADORABLE. Screamed for her Dad when she shouldn't have, kept silent when she should have, and held her I LOVE YOU DADDY sign upside down during the whole show. Brilliant.
The thing me and Mum were most interested about was what on earth we were going to do in the hour gap between the skating and the skate off? We already knew we got free doughnuts (I love Elstree), and I was half hoping they'd put Wild at Heart on the big screen. They didn't. Instead, all the skaters came over to their family...right next to us...and there were no barriers in front of after a few awkward glances Mum grabbed me and pushed me over to Dean Gaffney and Michael Greco for a photo. I didn't complain. Nom.

Then we just kind of hung around for ages, watching all these slebs push past us, literally, and Sharron Davies is a GIANT. Jordan, Claire and her fiancé came over to chat and tell us how Danny was feeling. Considering he got 17.0 for the fifth week in a row, he wasn't his best but we all tried to cheer him up and he did, and went back out smiling. As the skate off started the tension was building dramatically, and the breaks in between each skater being put through seemed an age, we were up and down like yoyos cheering and clapping, but Danny's name still hadn't been called, and when Phillip went to a break, we were shitting it. And so were the family. When we were back live, I was shaking uncontrollably and when he finally said "....Danny & Frankie!" I SCREAMED and jumped like a loon. LUCKY BRACELET YOU LEGEND. See, red bracelet, red wristband, and what colour was Danny wearing? Red. ;)
After the whole saga was over, Claire ran down and pulled us past the ticket lady who was filing everybody out. A quick "They're with us!" got us through and we got photos with Danny and managed to congratulate him. MUM got a hug, I DIDN'T. *strops* And I look rather shocking in the photo. OH WELL.

And theeeen we got home at 11pm :) FABFABFABFABFABFAB! AGAINAGAINAGAINAGAIN! I love Elstree, roll on summer's Big Brother. X

19 Feb 2010

"Please, I just want to go home" *sobs*

"@simperman #ff @louisejones_x She's going to have a lively blog after last night's adventure."

So er you know I was bursting with a ridiculous amount of excitement Wednesday night and yesterday morning about seeing Ant & Dec? Well after the 10th hour at Pinewood Studios that excitement had receded and was replaced by a big fat feeling of anxious, closely followed by sheer panic and a lot of swearing...

My Mum, like me, believes that things happen for a reason and also believes bad things happen in threes. The morning started off okay, we were on time, organised and were dead excited about it all. Then the first bad thing happened. One of Mum's friends who was meant to come phoned and said she'd had a bad allergic reaction to something overnight and couldn't come, so that sucked. Then Mum tried diverting her work phone but apparently the function isn't on there, why it doesn't baffles me but there you go, so Mum was likely to get a ton of calls throughout the day, which is bad enough for her but worse for me as my Mum has a very loud 'phone voice' and her ringtone is awful. Oh and yes the third bad thing to happen in a hour, it started to rain...a lot...and our hair was perfect...fab. 'But that's three bad things to happen early' I hear you cry. Well yes that's the theory, but theory decided to ambush us with destruction in a number of ways, I even had my lucky bracelet on! Fat lot of good that was.

After an hour of faffing around deciding what to wear I was finally ready and me and Mum were on our way to the station to meet the other 6 who were already there. Got a great deal on train tickets, was only £1 for the kids (because we were obviously kids for transport and adults for the show, brilliant being 16 and noone can tell how old you actually are mwahaha) Jumped on a train to Liverpool Street, then the Metropolitan Line all the way to Uxbridge. Things were now going really well. Found taxis at Uxbridge who took us straight to Pinewood Studios and we were there at 2.30pm...3 hours early...right. Oh well better early than late. A man at reception came out and said "You're too early" Well yes I think we gathered that Mr 'you look a lot like my Physics teacher' man. "Well is there anywhere we can go?" "No." "Oh thank you so much for your help" #clearlynosarcasmintended. If it was up to us 'kids' we would have been quite happy sitting on a bench at Pinewood chatting and nomming on our Marks & Spencer's picnic, but oh no, "Let's go for a walk!" So we were dragged out of Pinewood by my Mum and her best friend to walk...with no purpose...and no sense of direction. Ronan had a Satnav thingy on his phone thank God which told us where we were going, and we found A PUB. Marvellous. So we sat in there for an hour talking, laughing at the sex toy machine in the toilets and trying our best to not get drooled on by Fang from Harry Potter, well Lacey the dog, that looked a lot like Fang from Harry Potter.

We found a shortcut on the way back, typical, and got back to the studios just in time to see other people arriving and starting to queue. Now this is where it gets tense. These tickets are first come first serve, you don't have seat numbers, and you can tell a tv recording regular (us) from a first timer by the way they queue and treat the others. Everyone is your enemy. You automatically dislike everyone. You stare everyone down. It's hilarious but so sad. As cars were coming in the ushers had to send them back out as the gate to the car park wasn't opening till 4.45pm, and it was only 4.15pm now, so naturally we laughed at them being sent away while we queued at the front happily. As 4.45pm came and the gates opened, it looked like the cavalry arrived as all the ushers in yellow jackets came out in a bundle, and all the 'public transport' lot gave each other sneaky looks, mostly at their feet, to see if they were gonna make a run for it through the gate. Well as soon as one posh snobby woman did it started a stampede, literally. Everyone clutching their tickets legged it towards the gates to the ticket people, and me being small managed to push past everyone to the front again, WIN. We were directed into another queue, only to be sent to another which was done for priorities, oh yeah, we were priority.

Then it rained. A LOT. Thankfully we had umbrellas but that precipitation still soaks you, not good. After half an hour of queuing Martin the SRO ticket person little gay man with a big voice I love arrived. I shouted "Martinnnnn! Nice to see you!" which started some glares my way as I was obviously tight with him. I'm not. But I pretended. When it was our turn to get wristbands he said "Oh just four of you? You have six tickets, where are the other two? Dead? Fuck em I didn't like em anyway. Now go to Ian and he'll tell you a story." Hahahaha oh I LOVE him. Well Ian, whoever he was, didn't tell us a story but a woman who looked remarkably like @salihughes gave me my wristband and said my hair looked gorgeous. Score, nice hair even in the rain, Ant & Dec wouldn't be able to resist me. We were directed into a marquee out of the rain where there were seats, so we sat waiting until the next leg of this event. By this time my feet were frozen and wet, so I ended up sticking them in the crease of my knee to warm them up, it worked. We were meant to be taken to the studio at 6.45pm but they were delayed and clearly not organised as us purple wristband people weren't called up till 7.15pm. Oh well it will still be over by 10pm right? *stares* Finally at 7.30pm we were all seated, in FAB seats, bang in the middle 5 rows up. Brilliant! Now we were getting SO excited. The set looked good and it was warrrrrrm, oh I've never appreciated warmth so much in my life. It took a long time getting seated but finally recording started at 8, Ant & Dec appeared in all their glory (minus Ant's shocking hairstyle) and we were clapping and cheering away. I'm not gonna tell you a lot about the actual show, you can see that for yourself next Saturday. But I will tell you that it could have been a LOT better with a lot more variety, and the families they chose were quite clearly from some sort of drama school, Ant & Dec got annoyed with them by the end never mind us, they were SO cocky. Minutes passed, more clapping past, more breaks passed, HOURS passed when Kiera looked at her watch and said it was 11pm. Oh SHIT. Now we were bored out our brains, tired and needed a wee BAD. This was meant to finish at 10pm, it was an hour wait and deep down I was scared we were gonna miss trains, but I always worry about things like that so let it pass. We left th..."Woah hold up Louise you haven't said anything about the warm up guy." Oh what Andy? I want to strangle him, slice him with a small grater and feed him to pigeons. There you go. (He's the warm up guy for Dancing on Ice too which I'm seeing on Sunday, someone will have to restrain me)

We were back at the main entrance at midnight, called for a taxi and I was now having visions of everything stopping and us having to walk the streets of London late at night, but that couldn't happen, could it? *stares harder* We were back at Uxbridge at 12.15am, and were welcomed by silence and one tube...stopping at Wembley. Oh shit x1000. But that was okay, they'll be trains from Wembley *gulp* We sat on that tube for 15mins before it started, and now Mum started to stress, causing me to stress, causing EVERYONE to stress. This was a time for Twitter. Mum didn't even bat an eyelid when I said I was gonna ask Twitter for help on my phone, an obvious sign of 'We need help NOW' The tube started moving at 12.25am and I was frantically asking for help from Twitter. Thankfully @simperman was on the case and found the last trains and buses from Wembley back to Stratford. We were utterly screwed. The last trains and buses were around 12.50am and there was no way we were gonna make that. As we pulled into Wembley we leaped off the train and scrambled to the exit to try and make last trains, it didn't work. Everywhere was eerily empty and the buses didn't go anywhere we wanted to go. One of the workers said there were no more connections anywhere now and then left us. 2 women with 6 kids and he left us stranded. Twat. We left the station and ended up walking up Olympic Way in the rain and dark, just in the hope of finding someone to help us or a bus to take us somewhere we knew. Nothing. It was like everyone had disappeared. It was 1.15am now, we were all shivering with cold, soaked through and scared shitless. We didn't know what to do. So we walked back to the station where a big group of workers were about to start work on the tracks. My Mum was close to tears now and ran up to these men literally begging for help. I have SO much respect for these workers now, they work all through the night and they are genuine lovely men who helped us out so much. One of them took my Mum to the office thing where a man was still monitoring the station, and bless his little heart tried so hard to help. He confirmed there were no more trains and the only buses we could take were ones going to Hainault, over 40 mins away from where we lived and would take two hours on the bus. We were all in tears now just not knowing what the hell to do. This man was absolutely lovely and even offered to put us all up in his hotel room till the first train at 5am (!), either that or we got our own room in Premier Inn next door. By now we were all in this office in the warm, all the works rushing around thinking up ways to get us home and telling us it was all gonna be alright. 1.30am it was now and Mum had rung my Dad to tell him what was happening. After a few phonecalls the lovely train man had managed to bag us a huge taxi to take us all the way home, for £100. Mum didn't know what to do, that was SO much money but we were all in such a state it was our last resort. I ended up breaking the silence through tears going to the man "Please I just want to go home" Which pushed him to get a deal for £90, it was cheaper at least.

The taxi was booked and we waited 20mins outside for it. On our own in the even more freezing and wet night, mysterious cars passing and staring at us, and pervy horrible men trying to talk to us, not to mention the van that skidded and did a 360 nearly crashing into all of us. It was AWFUL. I ended up singing 'Keep Holding On' from Glee to keep me calm. The taxi arrived and we bundled in, 8 of us in a 6 man taxi, three of us including me squeezed in the back, 3 in the middle, one on the floor and one in the front. Finally we were on our way home. After a few tweets and texts I crashed out in the corner of the taxi and woke up at 3am, just as we passed the 'Oakwood Avenue' sign, we were HOME. We shuffled into our house to my Dad who bless him had got up and was watching the Olympics, with money for the taxi man and hot drinks at the ready. I collapsed into his arms and vowed never to go to Pinewood or London late at night again. I will. But at that moment I just wanted to stay at home for the rest of my life. At 4am I finally got into bed after being ill from all the kerfuffle and sticking my feet under the shower, my toes had gone all wrinkly and white like when you're in the bath for too long.

I fell into bed with a hot water bottle and just fell asleep. Roll on Dancing on Ice, IN THE CAR. X

16 Feb 2010


Valentine's Day has never meant anything to me. It will do one year, I hope. Actually, the one year it meant something to me is when a boy gave me a dolphin necklace in Year 3. I still have that necklace now, bless. But other than that? Nope, never. I'm destined to be a nun, or live alone with 100 cats *sigh* Saying that though my parents don't do anything on Valentine's Day either so it's not as if it's rubbed in my face. Until I go on Facebook. 'Chris babey I luv you forever and ever always in my heart XXXXX' Oh eff off.
Me and Mum went to see 'Valentine's Day', BIG mistake. Never let me go to the cinema on Vday EVER again. It's cringey and packed. The film was okay, uber cheesy but not awful, some of the acting was a bit poor though and not realistic, I was quite surprised at Ashton Kutcher who was quite bad in parts, but oh well it killed 3 hours. And for most of it I just kept thinking how much Jessica Alba looks like Quinn from Glee...
Well, kind of.

I had a moment Valentine's Day night. A strange moment. It's one of those moments only a teen girl understands, where something happens and you suddenly think 'OMG everyone hates me' Yeah, sad I know, don't judge me. Cos I'm 16 right but I don't feel or want to be 16. I want to be older. I want to move to London and live a proper life with a job and excitement and be able to do what I want to do, and I can't now, I feel like I'm tied down with chains to this house and hate being in a routine with school and coursework and whatnot. I HATE IT. I don't even feel 16, yeah all my best friends are 16 but I get on so much better with older people, I have the best convos with adults on Twitter and feel like one of them! So being in the emotional state I was, I tweeted saying 'I wish I was older, I could do so much stuff, I feel like I'm tied down being 16. I think it's cos I always wanna join in all the tweets on here but then I realise I'm 16 and they'll want me to go away *hangs head*'
Then I declared Twitter my Valentine. Honestly there is more love on there than in the 'real world' I got replies from people telling me 'not to be stupid you're age doesn't stop you doing anything, you do what you like, we all love you, why do you think you've got over 500 followers?!' etc etc. I actually welled up, and I NEVER tear up at anything. Not even at Titanic. Or Bambi. I have so much love for the people I've got to know on Twitter, they're like my second family. I'm declaring @salihughes as my Mum and @simperman as my Dad. @CarrieCardiff can be my Auntie.

Okay this is the time where I'm going to mention @emmybabee. Oh my God I don't think we could be any more similar. I'm basically a mini her. Somehow she started following me and our twiendship (sad I know but had to be done) began when she replied to a tweet I made; after going on her profile and seeing she was a blogger too, I realised she was in love with Heat like me and wants to be a journalist, like me. Bingo, someone I can take advice from! So we got chatting about Heat and she helped me with A levels and whatnot, and now we tweet like every day, and we're realising a bit more each day that we're more similar than we think. Last night we hit the epic evidence that this was so. We tweeted EXACTLY the same tweet at EXACTLY the same time. Wow. GET OUT OF MY HEAD EMMA! This is another thing that makes me believe in fate. All the people I've met recently and everything I've done, every tweet I've tweeted, has had an impact on me and was meant to be. OHHHHHH this is a deep blog. What is WRONG with me.

Yesterday the time had come when I had to stay at my Nan and Grandad's for the night. Why? To let Mum get some work done at home. I stay in my bloody room most of the day on twitter working so why the hell did I have to go?! I bid a sad farewell to Twitter for 48 hours, packed a bag and went on my way. They don't have Internet, you see my problem. The only way I was going to tweet was if I was prepared to go over on my phone contract and face the wrath of my Mum when the bill comes through. Oops. So after all the questions about school and work and friends and my non-existent love life, my N and G had topped up all their info and I was left alone...doing nothing...hmmm. So what did I do? Put on Beauty and the Beast, that's what I did. A plus point of staying at your Gparents, getting spoilt rotten and treated like a 7 year old, brilliant. And I LOVE Beauty and the Beast. LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT. Then I watched Bambi, then Snow White, then played Scrabble. Funtimes right? I managed to go what oooh 3 hours before I caved in and went on Twitter #addictgetmehelppronto I managed to ration myself to 3 mins on Twitter every half an hour, like a Nicotine patch. I yelped in Bambi though as the owl in it said 'Look they're twitterpated' QUOI?! WHAT WAS THAT OWL?! TWITTERPATED?! I am twitterpated, it means to be in love in Bambi language, but I think being in love with Twitter is more appropriate.

I love my Gparents, I really do, they come out with the funny lines. "Do you want me to cut your chicken up for you dear?" "No thanks Nan I can take it from here" Bless her. And I find out things that I never expected in a million years. I was showing my Gdad my Textiles coursework, explaining it in detail, and I didn't realise why he was so interested till he came out with "I used to work at the London College of Fashion" I nearly fell off my chair. My Grandad? At the LCOF? Wellinever.

After a trillion games of Scrabble and a few Disney films I decided to retire to bed, at 10.30pm.
This morning it was chucking it down, well actually it still is, bloody English weather, but never mind all is well as I'M GOING TO CYPRUS AT EASTER *jumps up and down and claps* But my Nan said "Oh Louise if it carries on like this you'll be stranded here for a week' *chokes on bacon sarnie* It stopped.

It was definitely worth staying though, I do love them to pieces, and I did get a fiver and this week's issue of Heat from them.

And now it's time for the Brits. I am not jealous of anyone I know who's going. *repeats over and over again* Even if Caz is sitting on a table with Shirley Bassey *clenches fists* Mind you from what I've seen already it looks a bit of a shambles. LOVE IT. X

My Dad just shouted at the football on TV 'YOU LAXIDATED LITTLE NIMPLETHWIX' He is clearly not from this planet.

13 Feb 2010

AND SHE SMASHES 500!...then gets spammed.

Friday morning was a complete fail. I was meant to get up early to text Nadia and Clare who were both going on holiday *cough* bitches *cough* but I didn't wake up in time. Plus I was going to get Comedy Gala tickets as soon as they came out at 9am, but didn't wake up till 10.30am, nice one. But I did find good seated tickets when I finally got up, so ran down to Mum for her credit card, only to be told 'ERRRRRR no' when I told her how much they were. Okay so they are £55...but it's for charity! And there are over 20 comedians! Including MicMac, Lee Evans and Alan Carr, Mum knows full well how much I love them and would totally spak out when I see them all ON THE SAME STAGE. *faints at the thought* So for the rest of the day I refused to speak to her, I didn't actually move from my room #lazyshit but I'm a teenager so I'm allowed to do eff all. HA.

As I was painfully bored I decided to rise to the challenge of smashing through 500 followers from 460. At first I thought it was impossible and was just doing it through sheer boredom, but then my followers started to slowly rise as people started RTing and whatnot, and by the time I got back after two hours of art coursework I was only 20 away! Oh it was ON like a light switch (best simile I could make, I'm tired) I started begging for followers which I HATE but promised it would be the only time I would do it, and by 11.30 I was 6 away! After a few episodes of Glee (thanks to @jonalmond) I came back at 11.50 and BAM! 502 followers! WIN! Thanks to @CarrieCardiff for the final push I was half way to 1000, oh what a moment that was. Waiting for those last few followers was like having my toes on the finishing line just waiting for a push to cross it. YAYAYAY oh the littlest things.

HOWEVER this morning was a shocker. As soon as I wake up I reach for my itouch and go on Tweetdeck, so, I did when I woke and at first thought I was on a different Twitter or something cos there were all these other people filling up my feed and I didn't have a clue who they were. I had loads of DMs and replies to just spamming me. I freaked. After the acheivement and effort of getting 500 followers my Twitter can't have been totally mucked up?! I frantically switched on my laptop to see the devastation (yes DEVASTATION) in full and began the long process of unfollowing about 80 randomers and bots, after which I then saw my following count had gone down by 210 from the norm before the storm (haha) I stared in horror, now Twitter had made me unfollow 210 Twitters. WTF! I tweet sobbed and stated I would have to get a new account, as every 20mins I would suddenly be following MORE spams and getting more not needed replies and DMs, I had no control! AHHH! Alas the lovely people of Twitter came to my rescue, told me not to go and said to change my password and do other various things, I felt LOVED I tell you, the people of Twitter are my Valentine's. So with that, my Twitter was back to normal *sigh of relief*

After that fiasco I went to do the Lottery and have the biggest clear out of my room EVER (I got rid of 3 sacks full of clothes and whatnot). Twitter is most definitely the way forward of choosing Lottery numbers, I got 2 plus the bonus ball which happened to be my lucky number, WOW, that's pretty good for a first go!
I booked tickets for me and Mum to see 'Valentine's Day' tomorrow and I knew all her credit details off by heart, I'm clearly a true teenage daughter.

Just seen I've done my 9000th tweet, it's officially taken over my life.

And that was my Friday and Saturday, GOODBYE X


11 Feb 2010

Welcome back lay ins, I've bloody missed you.

*shoves anything to do with school in wardrobe...right at the back* HELLO HALF TERM, long time no see, I'm so glad we have the opportunity for this much needed catch up.

I have been waiting for tomorrow morning for SO long. These past couple of days I've been waking up at about 5am and have just been laying there for two hours until @big_ben_clock goes BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG...then I get up. Now it shall have to go BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG BONG before I even consider moving. I can't WAIT.

The other morning after I got BONGed out of bed, I went to switch my light on when the bulb exploded (yes EXPLODED) somehow causing all the electricity to trip in the house, oops. For some greenhouse gas reason my Dad ...INTERRUPTION IN BLOG: excuse me while I go throttle my brother who's playing ping pong on the wooden floor, *screams heard, fades out*...yes so my Dad put an energy saving lightbulb in energy...and I'm not kidding, when I switched the light back on, I still thought it was off. They are shockingly shite. It's like the light's a bit wary of coming on and just goes "...Is it safe to come on? Shall I...shall I just erm brighten up just a tinsy bit first? Then um I'll turn on reaaallyyy slowly, so she doesn't notice" I'm not a bloody criminal I JUST WANT SOME EFFING LIGHT!

Today me and my Mum had to send a very angry complaint email *cue long angry posh words* to our gym. The manager gave me a month's free membership before Christmas to use when I want, because they stopped the scheme I was using there. So, me and Mum went down there after school yesterday and handed the email over saying what it was (the letter stated we ONLY had to bring the email, remember that point) So the girl gave us a form to fill in after asking my age, hate it when people do that, I want to look 16, not over or under that age. Then she said "Oh and if you can bring some ID over with the completed form we can give you the card" Er sorry what? ID? For a gym? For me? "Oh yeah company policy and for insurance purposes." I'm 16. One, I don't HAVE ID apart from a passport, and two why the hell do I have to bring ID for a gym? Mum stayed calm saying we didn't have any and we'll bring it next time but oh no that wasn't 'company policy'. YOU'RE A GYM. That did it for Mum, she demanded to see the manager, gotta love my Mum angry. After 20 MINUTES of waiting, oh foots were tapping at this point, some ditsy 'Bianca from Eastenders' looking and sounding person came over going 'Got a problem?' If my Mum had PMT she would have floored her there and then. After explaining and exaggerating our 'problem' all we got was more insurance and policy lark, sorry sorry sorry 'I know how you feel' ER NO YOU DON'T kind of thing. So Mum stormed out leaving me trailing along with all the bags dropping everything, thanks Mum, and we went round my Mum's best friend's instead so Mum could vent her anger and then laugh about it. A much better spent evening me thinks. Mum emailed the angry complaint today, I can't wait to see them grovel.

Who likes assemblies? *tumbleweed floats past, crickets er cricket* I thought as much. We've had two this week, paaiinnffuulll you might think. Alas no cringe not, this were remotely interesting as the first was to tell us who our new Headmaster will be...and nicknames are coming in thick and fast already. God help us. So happy I'm only gonna be in sixth form and not proper school if I'm pretty sure he is 'The man who looks like a thumb'

The second assembly we had today, it was pretty repetitive of all our others, '*insert number here* weeks left!' WORKWORKWORK' 'Start revising NOW' 'You're not gonna have a job if you don't work hard' YES WE KNOW, stop putting so much pressure on us jeeeez. But at the end of this one a girl from our year who is er a bit weird did a speech she had done in English, about the use of text speak. It was LOLtastic. Have to admit it was pretty good and funny, "'I woz lyk OMG I ROFLMAOed at wot u jus sed!' You won't see the Prime Minister going 'OMFG look at dat honourable gentlemen lookin lyk a tard LOLOLOLOLOL.'" It was effing hilarious the way she was saying it. Wish all assemblies were like that! Actually I wish all assemblies were done through Twitter.

Those were my last few days and next week I will chillax to the max and spot many celebs. BRING. IT. ON. X


8 Feb 2010


Look! That's my Uncle in Sherlock Holmes! What do you mean that could be anyone? IT'S HIM! Honest! *feels proud*

A bird shat on me on Friday. Had I not gone through enough humiliation that week? Clearly not. Effing seagulls. We don't even live near a beach, so why the hell do about 100 hundreds seagulls find it necessary to swoop around a school? I have come to a conclusion. They are obviously Paedogulls. I am so right.

Friday night I had to lead a Guides session for my volunteering bit of DofE with my best chum Clare. It was hilariously amusing, they were doing a communication badge so we got them playing sharades and pictionary, and then moved up a step in a quite harsh way. We blindfolded all these 10 year olds and made them run around knocking into chairs...hahahaha oh dear never again. Oh well, got them their badge.
I had to babysit my horror of a little brother Friday night as well...

...not that I have a social life or anything *sigh* However there are good moments in these scenarios. As soon as my rents shut the front door, me and Matt bolted in separate directions; him to grab the computer and play violent games after nicking a box of a celebrations, me to snatch the opportunity to turn my music up 'too loud' and delve in to the unknown of Mum's wardrobe and grab any morsel of chocolate I laid eyes on. Goooooood times. She hasn't noticed. Yet.

Saturday morning my Mum dragged me out of bed at 10 (EARLY) to state we were going to the gym. Faaaabulous. Did two hours of running, cycling and did those weird-other-exercises-that-make-you-look-like-a-total-fool things but felt quite good after; let the weight loss and getting fit extravaganza COMMENCE. Although personally I think I achieved more than my Mum, who on the cross trainer (aka THE MACHINE OF DEATH), gave up after 4 mins while I went on to do 10. It KILLED me and the way my Mum casually leant against it staring at me sweating and straining on it wasn't really helpful.
That night I count as a work out session as well though as I went to an 18th birthday party down the next road. Oh my what larks that was! A whole bunch of adults and 18 year olds getting utterly carparked as my old pal MicMac would say, and seven 16 year olds hanging around raving at the back and nicking the odd drink...or quite several in Drunk George's case. Oh Drunk George, where do I begin to explain his drunken antics. Now, George is the ultimate computer geek and scientific brainbox in our school, but Geeky George now has another reputation. I'm not even going to explain his hilariousnosity, you can use your own imagination if I just say: couldn't find the light, eating lemon skins, licking fingers. Worrying yet highly amusing for everyone. Just after 1am me and Kiera made our way back in the freezing cold night to mine and collapsed aching in bed, only to talk for an hour before falling asleep. Girls ay.

Sunday was excruciatingly painful and filled with Business work. You know the er lesson where I do jack shit apart from spend the hour on Twitter? Yeah that one. I had 4 bits to do before I'd finished the whole thing and LO AND BEHOLD COMPLETED THE LOT! *curtsies and collects thrown roses* Yes, yes, thank you all, I know it's one of my biggest achievements so far this year. So consequently I actually could go on Twitter in Business today without feeling guilty! Win!
I must explain, for Max's sake, the one moment in time (French lessons) when we are both convinced that life will end. This is when *shudders* the mighty boabab *gulps* GOES MISSING. If you do not know what a boabab tree is then, firstly, biff yourself on the noggin, and then FIND OUT. It is the tree of life and hope to all mankind. Honest. And can be seen on the horizon in mine and Max's view from our French class. It stands out clearly from the rest and fascinates us all lesson. I get distracted easily in school don't I, I should probably sort th...OH LOOK A SQUIRREL!

So yes this Lion King tree calms us with its majestic ways, alas today was a foggy day...meaning NO BOABAB. Our faces locked in an expression of terror and proceeded to fidget and act in a, well, not normal manner until the fog began to clear and the wonder seeped back into our view. Was a close call. And that was the story of the Mighty Boabab.

Guess what tomorrow is? Can you guess? Any thoughts? Oh hell yes, IT'S HEAT DAY *jumps up and down like a loon* At precisley 8am tomorrow I expect to walk into the shop and find the little Indian man with my Heat on his counter just waiting for my £1 50p 10p and 5p. I CAN'T WAIT. I have a quite funny yet strange story to tell involving Heat. My Mum came into my room last week and said "There was someone from Heat on TV earlier (excuse my interruption but WHY DIDN'T SHE TELL ME) can't remember her name though...began with L I think..." "Laura Atkinson" was my immediate response which caused Mum to stare at me curiously and wander off in confusion. I'm admitting now that my Heat obession has reached a height where I know everyone that works there, what they do, and even sometimes know who writes each article. Stalkerish or dedicated? Make your choice.

Now it's time for me to totter off and watch Hustle and Glee, whilst go crazy with anticipation for an email I'm not receiving till tomorrow. What a sad life I lead. X

4 Feb 2010

Can you fill in this incident form please...oh and this one...

I am never Never NEVER going to stand with a group of boys again. They are boisterous twats that hurt girls. Today was the day that I came to this conclusion *leans back, puts feet up, daydream bubble appears above head*

"JORDAN seriously stay away from me! You're going to bump into me at any moment." Me and Kiera were standing with the boys at lunch like usual cos we were bored inside, chatting away with them having a laugh. But boys being idiotic boys decided they'd had enough of talking and laughing and proceeded to fight each other. As you do. Grabbing hold of each other in sumo wrestler fashion and pushing each other into walls, pulling other boys along to way. Because that's obviously fun. *stares*

Kiera backed away from the riot and I followed her to get out of their bashing path and continued to talk and laugh COS THAT'S WHAT YOU DO. After about 3 near misses of me being battered by the boys I said (shouted) quite clearly 'STAY AWAY FROM ME I'm scared you're gonna hit me!' Which obviously meant nothing to them, as what happened next was possibly the worst and most humiliating moment of my school life...

After a few minutes we were oblivious to the continuing rabble and had a good conversation going, when suddenly my eyes met a boy's...whose were coming rapidly closer to my face, accompanied by about 5 ratherly tall bodies. BAM! I was bashed onto the ground, a VERY MUDDY field to be exact, my head ever so close to the concrete. After a split second of silence, everyone realised what had happened. Most laughed, some screamed, some murmured in shock, I burst into tears. I sat up, my hands were grazed and my right thigh hurt a lot, but that didn't bother me at the time as I had fallen into the muddiest of places therefore my WHOLE uniform and bag was caked in wet sticky mud. It felt like ages me sitting there sobbing and looking at my now shit (literally) looking appearance, but I felt two hands on mine pulling me up and dragging me away fast to the toilets. Those hands belonged to Kiera obviously, who I now declare as one of the best best friends I've ever had. If it wasn't for her being there I would still be rocking in the mud in uncontrollable sobs. She grabbed my bag and instantly just said "Don't look down, just think, you can write an amazing blog on this!" Which I admit, through my sobs, made me go "Yeah..*sniff*...yeah that's right, good blog..." I was thrust into the toilets where girls gawped at me in shock and little Year 7s pegged it out not wanting to be involved. I daren't glance at myself in the mirror to see what I actually looked like, I could paint that picture myself from everyone's reaction. Kiera took control of getting as much mud off my bag and blazer as she could, while I shoved my stinging hands under a tap and feebly attempted to wipe myself down, which evidently failed.

By now I had stopped crying and the slow emotion of anger seeped through my body as I recalled what had happened. I was effing and blinding all the way to the Medical Room about how I am (apparently) going to "POUR ACID OVER HIS EFFING HEAD AND CUT HIS FUGLY FACE OFF!!!!!!" That's still on my mind, although could have some interesting consequences. Perhaps not.

The look on the lady in the Medical Room's face said it all really as I walked in, I was ushered to a chair where I was doused in wet tissues and asked a number of questions. My Mum was phoned and she rushed down to see the sorry sight for herself. Have to say she wasn't best pleased. She turned up just as I was filling out another incident form explaining what had happened and was being told that this was going to be taken VERY seriously and I would have to be taken out of class a number of times tomorrow to explain to the Head of Year and other important sounding teachers about what had happened. Fabulous. I quick changed into clean uniform Mum had brought down and took a chance to look at my phone, to the sight of 5 new messages. Oh people had found out then.

Now lunch was well and truly over and Mum made me go to Biology, even though there was only 45mins of school left, thanks Mum. I shuffled into class where all eyes snapped onto me, and even though I kept my head down and slid into the seat next to Nadia, I could feel eyes boring into my head, don't blame them, who doesn't like a bit of gossip? So rather than just tell Nadia what had happened, I ended up giving some sort of speech to the whole class...even the teacher...who now I'm sure realises that if she wants a class to listen, create a dramatic empathetic story about the subject, people WILL listen. Have to say I felt a lot better after people had said "They should pay for a new uniform!" "I'm gonna abuse his Facebook tonight saying what a dick he is" So yeah now I'm back at home, feeling sorry for myself and not making things easier for my hands while I'm typing. Ouch. *type* ouch *type* My uniform and bag is ruined and all that's on my mind are the meeting's I'm going to have to have tomorrow *sigh* plus I feel bad as some of the boys are my friends and I know for a fact they didn't do it intentionally. Woe me woe me.

And that was the most humiliating day of my life. Sympathy welcome. *picks mud out of hair* X

What I would have looked like...if I was Asian...

2 Feb 2010

Jones, Louise Jones. Showbiz Reporter.

Da da da da da da da da da da da da da da DA DADADA DA! Yes mes amis you know what that sound means...No I am not your father *breathes in and out Darth Vader fashion* It's the opening tune to Dancing on Ice foooooooools! I got a text from my Mum at school saying 'We've got Dancing on Ice tickets!!!' I screamed and bounced on my stool; to my friends it looked like I'd got a tiny bit too excited about Collision Theory. Alas no that time had not (and never will) come, I'm going to DOI Sunday 21st Feb! YAY! Was the highlight of this very spiffing (lies) very lovely (lies) very interesting (lies) very normal (li...truth) day.

TIS FEBRUARY YOUNG ONES! The first month of this important year has passed like that *watches cheetah run past...cos there are cheetahs roaming in my garden clearly* Been very eventful! Back to school, Mock results back, sixth form application in, NTAs, (kind of) job, Big Brother, Glee and fancy shizz like that. Marvellous.

February shall hold many wonders. 1) Ant & Dec recording. 2) DOI. 3) Half term. 4) That weird very fast ending to the month where you go WTF what happened to the 30s? Why did February get the short (literally) straw and have to cut its visit to our lives short? These are the things that trouble me.

Today is Tuesday. Today is Heatday. Today was the day I realised that people know I'm addicted to Heat. Today, like I do every Tuesday, I stopped off at the shop on the way to school to grab a brand spanking new copy of Heat. However today I spazzed out in the process. HEAT WAS NOT IN MY EYESIGHT. Every other magazine was there, APART FROM HEAT. So I grabbed Best instead, put it on the counter to hear the little Indian man go '£1.65' This is the price of Heat, the little Indian man in the shop obviously knows me too well and instinctively knew I would come in at 8am to buy Heat. A very puzzled look came across the little Indian man's face as he shuffled over to the mag stand to see where Heat had gone, he was clearly distressed by the fact I hadn't brought him Heat. Either that or I was giving involuntary daggers to him as if to say 'If you don't bring me Heat, I WILL cut you bitch.' Anyway, the chaos inside my fragile mind died down as he found my beloved mag combined with Closer (the Closer side was showing on the stand, shocking behaviour) WIN! And that was the time I realised little Indian men know what I love.

I think that will be it for this blog. Nothing much to REPORT on. OHHHH see what I did there? Yes chaps I am now a Showbiz Reporter for a magazine, my life plan in unfolding before me! *gets party poppers, hats and kazoos out* Life is fabbity fab fab! And I love love love Twitter and the people who take up my feed. (@simperman @salihughes @heatworld @carriecardiff especially)

I now lub and leave you with some amusing baby photos of myself. Enjoy. X