My audience

According to my 'stats' on here, these are the countries that my readership comes from:

• United Kingdom
• United States
• Germany
• Denmark
• Ireland
• Greece
• Croatia
• Philippines
• Saudi Arabia
• South Africa

That, to me, is amazing. How do these people find my blog? I only have like 20 blog entries, which is nothing compared to some blogs. I really wish everyone who read would comment then I'd actually believe these stats are true.

Technical difficulties, epiphanies, and more procrastination.

Oh look, it's 3am and I'm not asleep yet. Which can mean only one thing...blog time!

Things are pretty good at the moment. I had a good chat with one of my best friends tonight and realised that best friends are still best friends even if they don't speak for a little while, which is a realisation that might be quite useful soon, as I only have around 15 weeks of university left. I genuinely don't know what I'll do without seeing the people I've met and become so close to every day when we all go our separate ways, and as much as I've moaned about third year being gash, I'll miss it so much. I just hope that what they say about meeting most of your life-long friends at university is true. Ooh, how sentimental.

On a much shallower note, my BlackBerry broke today. And my world has basically crumbled around me ever since. I've become aware that my phone is basically an extension of my person, and that saddens me a bit, because that's pathetic and it's just a piece of technology, but I suppose it's all about keeping in touch with people again.

I've discovered a new favourite form of procrastination. Reading this: One of the funniest blogs ever. Some guy comes out with absolute gems while he's sleep-talking, and his genius wife decided to record everything he says and blog it. My personal favourite is "Your mum's at the door again. Bury me. Bury me deep.". I laughed for days at that.

Another thing keeping me from my dissertation at the moment is the planning of my 21st birthday party. I should mention that my 21st isn't until June, but booking a function room needs to be done ridiculously far in advance. Planning this party is becoming the bane of my life, and if people don't turn up, I'll be cutting all ties with them. An example of how much of a ballache party planning is becoming can be found in what I spent a good hour and half doing tonight. Researching hotel prices on the internet. FOR IN FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS' TIME. Calm the fuck down Emma.

Also worth a mention is the fact that the rugby league season has officially started again, which automatically means that my life is much brighter for the next 8 months.

Procrastination, and being Poirot.

There has been a mystery plaguing my life recently. Every so often I'll be in my room, which is downstairs at the front of my house, and I'll hear some knob walking past playing the guitar. The whole idea of this has baffled me for months. Who just casually roams the streets playing the guitar? And if it's a busker, aren't they supposed to stay in one place, like outside Debenhams? I have recently experienced the utter joy of discovering who the mystery strummer is...

He is a tramp. Tonight when I was walking home from my friend's house, I saw that he had attached himself to two men who smelled like a brewery and instigated a singalong. Heart-warmingly, the men had engaged in said drunken singalong, instead of beating the shit out of him. This is one way in which Chester is different to Wigan.

So yeah, the solving of that mystery was the 'being Poirot' part of my blog. Now to the procrastination part, which I ironically put off until after I'd wrote the Poirot part. I will do literally anything, except my dissertation. In the past week I have cleaned the whole of my house, attended yoga, worked, watched Big Fat Gypsy Weddings, stayed in work for three hours after my shift ended, and gotten drunk. All as opposed to doing my dissertation. And now, I'm updating my blog, something I haven't found the time to do for nearly a month, instead of doing my dissertation.

Another thing I have done in order to avoid doing my dissertation, is watch one of my best friends dress as a woman and deliver 'her' dating profile in video form. I give you, Joshinda. The epitomy of hilarity.

2011

Happy New Year boys and girls :)

My 'quiet NYE' turned into one of the most drunk nights of my life, followed by one of the worst hangovers of my life. I loved it though. I've been trying to decide what my New Year's resolution should be. Here are my options:

• Carry on being mint. At least I know I'm good at it. Ooooooh yeeeeeee.
• Keep up the frankly surprising streak of good results I've had in my recent uni work.
• Go to the gym AND STAY THERE. (Not all the time, I should point out. I'm not setting up camp or anything. I just mean stick with it.)
• Work my ass off as soon as my exams are over and start saving for travelling.

I should point out that, with the best will in the world, none of the above are overly likely to happen. Except the first one, obviously. I've also decided that I'm going to focus on my own happiness (in the least selfish way possible) and actually make 2011 live up to the potential it has to be one of the best years of my life.

2011 is already better than 2010. I spent yesterday at what can only be described as a castle in Kendal at Jo and Henning's wedding reception, which was BEAUTIFUL. I've not been to many weddings but it was definitely the best one. I spent the day with some of the girls I went to South Africa with, and obviously got to see Jo and Henning again for the first time since South Africa. We ate more than anyone ever should in one day, had more pictures taken than anyone ever should, but generally had a really lovely day. Today was spent napping, watching How I Met Your Mother, making plans for the rest of the week with my friends, and having a chinese. All of the above leads me to believe that 2011 is already better than 2010.

On a side note, I had a dream last night about dying my hair and getting new extensions. I've never been so excited to replace a set of extensions before, mine are definitely on their last legs.

Dear Dad

Stop reading my blog. Or at least, if you're gonna read my blog, stop referencing my blog to me. I know what it says, I wrote it.

Thanks for saying I'm witty though. And it's nice to know I have at least one reader...

The Christmas Spirit

I realise I'm a bit late with the Christmas-themed blog. But oh well. This is basically the tale of the run-up to my Christmas, and Christmas day.

In the week leading up to Christmas, I worked 6 out of 7 days. And subsequently lost all faith in humankind, and the will to live. Those of you who know me, will know I work in Sayers (and those of you who don't, have just been told). Most of the conversations I have with customers pass without any major incidents. We make the sales transaction and move on with our lives. However, there are some customers who feel it is their duty to make my shift just that little bit more stressful. Here are some examples of things customers do that make me want to hurdle over the counter and dropkick them all the way to PoundBakery, so they can mither someone else about baked pastry goods:

• "Can I have a pasty?" - The single most annoying question a customer could possibly ask. We're a bakery. We sell a variety of pasties, and I'm not a fucking mind-reader. You're going to have to be more specific.
• "Do you have any *name of any item we sell*?" - If it isn't on the counter, chances are, we don't have it. I'm not hiding a secret stash of steak pasties from you.
• "It costs extra to sit in? That's ridiculous. The world has gone mad! I'm now going to complete my conversation with you in the rudest way possible because, clearly, you write the company policy. Etc, etc, etc." - Actually, no, contrary to popular belief, the staff of this particular shop do not make the rules, we just follow them. You know, so we don't get sacked. It costs extra to sit in because you're paying for VAT and the wages of the sorry bastards who have to clean up after you. Deal with it, or get out.
• Similarly, don't pay the take-out price for a pasty, then sit in the cafe in the hope that no-one has noticed, then look at me like I have three heads when I ask you to either pay the difference, or leave.
• Do not ask me stupid questions, because stupid questions are usually followed up with a stupid answer, but no doubt if I gave you a stupid answer, you'd get me sacked. In the time I have worked at Sayers, I've been asked if the bean and SAUSAGE pasties are vegetarian, what the difference is between the plain iced bun and the fruited iced bun, and whether the cheese and onion pasties are very cheese-and-oniony. These are just a few off the top of my head and this is by no means an exhaustive list. Just take my word for it. People are idiots.
• There are quite a few options with our menu. So when I ask you if you want your coffee black, latte or cappuccino, or how many sausages you want on your barm, do NOT just go 'whatever', as though you have a 'usual' order that I should know about. I'm asking you for a reason, I work here and I know how the ordering system works, so just answer the goddamn question.

Over the Christmas period, incidents such as the above happen on a more often than average basis. On top of this, people go Christmas shopping, get themselves stressed, then come and take it out on us when they decide they want feeding and watering. For this reason, my Christmas spirit was at a low ebb, until I went home on Christmas eve after work.

I love Christmas eve. It's one of my favourite days of the year. This year, I spent it in my onesie, wrapping presents, watching The Holiday, and generally getting really excited about Christmas day. My Christmas day was also perfect, particularly Christmas morning. The only downside of Christmas this year has been that my dad has been working nights, meaning we got up at the crack of 7am when he got in from work and opened presents. Me, my mum, my dad, my brother and my dog, all sat downstairs, in front of the fire, and took turns opening presents (yes, even the dog). It was genuinely perfect. My dad sat with a pint(!) of whisky and lemonade ("Dad, it's 7 o clock in the morning!!"..."I've been at work ALL NIGHT." was the closest thing my family got to an argument throughout the whole of Christmas day) and turkey butties, while my mum made the rest of us breakfast.

Presents-wise, a couple of weird things happened. My dad bought my mum the same book as my mum had bought me, and none of us knew until we'd opened them, and me and my mum both got slankets (blanket + sleeves = slanket). I got a BEAUT Pandora charm bracelet, with an elephant charm and a hedgehog charm, which I love, amongst the usual things like dvds, books, perfume etc. My brother got an iPod touch, which nearly ended up outside buried in the snow due to the amount of mithering he did about how it works and how you put apps on it etc etc etc.

Which brings us to now, Christmas week. Last night I went out for a meal with Frankie, Vicki, Katie and Nathan for Frankie's 21st, during which we became that table that everyone hates, as discussed in my blog of a week or so ago when me and my friends went to a different Italian restaurant. Oh well, what goes around comes around. The highlight of my night was when Nathan got meringue in his eyebrow.

Today is my little brother's 16th birthday. Which makes me feel ridiculously old. Last month, he went looking at colleges and started trying to decide what he's actually going to do with his life, which made me realise that it's 5 years since I was doing that, and that in 6 months' time, I'll have left uni and will be turning 21, which means I'll actually officially be an adult. And that scares me shitless.

Maroon 5

I just love them. So much. I don't think there's another band in the world that I like every single one of their songs. Including Westlife. And for those of you who know me, you'll know how significant that claim is. Their current album, Hands All Over, is sterling. And it helps that Adam Levine, as well as being a lyrical genius, is beautiful.

Exhibit A: Never Gonna Leave This Bed