Fallen Madonna With The Big Boobies

Well, I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas. I only had the one day off as I worked Boxing Day, so today I decided to go sales shopping.

The plan was to get my bra size measured properly and then treat the 'girls' to some new bras. La Senza was the only place doing bra fitting, so in I went.

Turns out I am 2 inches narrower in the back than I thought. But I don't know my cup size as they don't actually have any bras large enough.

So I am at least 2 sizes up from what I thought but to what extent I don't know.

The horror.

A Night Out!

A most successful night out for the following reasons;

• Good hair and fabulous outfit
• Lovely meal
• Hilarity of Chinese waitress taking a shine to a member of our group and making him eat seconds on every course.
  
• Played 'I Never' and realised that I am naughtier then I thought, but I still have a lot of work to do on that score. Think that may be a New Year's Resolution.
• Got to feel up the chest of the boy I like - it was v v v nice!
• Got phone number of said boy (he asked me) - this was pre-grope too.
• Made a lovely new gay friend who told me I was fabulous like Charlotte from SATC (it's the Cosmo's and my new fake pearls what do it).
• Had to pretend to a random in Revolution that I was gay and my friend was my girl to get him to leave me alone - think I made his night.
  
• Drank for about 9 hours straight!
• Had to do walk of shame from a mate's house next day - across a national border on a train no less.
• No hangover!!! This puzzled me, but no complaints!
  
• Sky TV had been installed in the house when I returned. Joy!!

Best night out in a long time and after all the work I've done over the past few weeks, it was the perfect way to end the semester and start the Christmas season.

A Day Off!

Two in fact. So after handing the pile of old scrote that was my Egyptology essay and my histoloy practical on Friday, I am off to Manchester to get hideously drunk.

And just generally be a very bad girl indeed.

I even intend to straighten my hair, so intent am I on wrecking havoc. Doing my hair always puts me in the mood for a monster drinking session. Something about making effort I suppose.

So anyone in the vicinity of the Little Yang Sing or Baa Bar today, beware!

All I Want Is Access To A Fucking Colour Printer!!!

Not much to ask in a 'world class' university but since the two computer labs with working colour printers are booked, so that only a handful of people can use them. Meaning I am here in the library.

This floor doesn't have a colour printer and no computers in the areas that do are free.

Bit of a pain in the arse meaning an extra trip into university for me on Monday, not something I wanted or needed.

And if I find the fucker who is late handing back the books I need for my next set of essays, I am going to give them a little lesson in punctuality. With punchings.

Do your worst, Mr Hughes

Got this off Godzilla's site, muchus funus.

Katharine Hepburn You scored 14% grit, 57% wit, 38% flair, and 4% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women. Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the Classic Leading Man Test.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 17% on grit You scored higher than 96% on wit You scored higher than 48% on flair You scored higher than 0% on class

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

The Deadlines Are Coming! Save Yourself!

I have just over a week before my two big pieces of work for this semester are due in. The scientific part was an experimental write up about the histology practical. No real problems there and the work is all but done. Just a few references to stick in and then the proofing.

The problem is with my Egyptology essay. I'm writing about Old Kingdom non-royal tomb art. Which is more interesting than it probably sounds. What is giving me trouble is that I have to rework the entire way I think.

I've been trained for several years now, in how to write scientifically. Everything has to be referenced and my own opinion is not included unless it is backed up with results and references to earlier work.

Humanities doesn't work like this and it's giving me pains to put in what I think the scenes represent. As at the back of my mind all I can think is that I'm not doing things properly.

2000 words down. 4000 to go.

'Tis the season

It's only the 7th of December and yet about half of my town have already covered their houses in enough colourful flashing lights to kill an epileptic at 40 paces.

Why people?!

Ever heard of less is more?

Appears not.

Tired

I'm tired. And I don't mean in the I-had-a-bit-of-a-rotten-night's-sleep way. I mean in the exhausted-to-the-core-bone-shakingingly-headache-causingingly-weepy kind of tired.

Work was unbelievably busy. Honestly, people. It's December, you know Christmas is coming so why do you all troop out on the same fucking weekend? I worked a full shift on Sunday and didn't get a lunch break as we were so swamped.

I can't remember the last time I had a day off and I have no idea when I'm going to get one. Not until after the 16th when my deadlines are, that's for sure.

So when you ask me what is wrong and I say;

"I'm tired."

Don't raise your eyebrows and go,

"You're tired?"

As if you have a monopoly on exhaustion. I am so brittle right now that the slightest knock is likely to shatter me into a thousand pieces.

So excuse if I'm feeling a bit 'Poor Me'.

Oh Dear, That Wasn't Meant To Happen!

Since I've lost weight recently, none of my trousers fit me properly and so when I stood up last night, they slipped down on my hips and revealed my tattoo.

And my Dad, who up until this point didn't know I had one, saw it.

"What is that?"
"A tattoo."
"And when did you get that done?"
"Four years ago."

At which point he walked off, more disappointed that I hadn't told him (because he'd freak out) than the fact I had one.

I am a terrible daughter.