Procrastinating + Snow = Tiny Igloo

Update: Scribbles wrecked it, but loved it.


So i use a tiny lunch box to make the "bricks".

BAM!

Then i got bored. or you could say creative????

TY's


Just casually drying on the rads.

Things I brought from home

Shit photos but, anyways.

3 pack!

Fresh troops.

17 bruises, not kidding.

Also, this is my room. I'll clean it soon mom, promise.

Not pictured, a makeup bag full of confetti. Explanations?

A real proper growd up

Card carrying and all

A new game.

Big Bird. He took ages cos o paint. I hate paint.

9min 18 sec

No.1
I'll be asked to draw some animal and will be timed by Ms Susan or anyone. This one wasn't timed tho, meh. anyway ill upload em to here. Boi

This n That

He's a goner.

a load of felt n a friend who hearts cupcakes results in a cupcake badge.

Mail is fun

I love that Mam knows exactly what I'm like and what I need.

Her letter contained a sweet little note, a brown envelope so I can mail details and get my grant PLUS a coin purse (special engraved) for, and I quote, when you are going out on the town. It's so I don't lose any more precious cards.

Shit buzz

Ikea's all out of Mulig clothes racks and you can't be arsed investigating alternatives?

Suck it Swedes, makeshift wardrobe it is. Alls you need is a ribbon from the towel set and 2 nails that were already in the wall.

p.s, one of those items is not a dress, guess which.

Smiling Like A Fool, Napping Like A Demon

I got post. S'awesome. I have a love hate relationship with the postal system. But all that goes out the window when I see my haul.

Deadly, Meanies.

Some homemade cake. Chocolate on a stick for dipping in hot chocolate. Viscounts. Mmm. Minstrels and TWO packs of polo mints. Oh Mammy.

Some sort of book. I don't read much. But I appreciate it. Good of me, riiight.

you can't read it but it says Chocolat Chocolat. Handmade by Miriam

And here are some snaps of a food shop I did a while back. Back when I was excited about cooking for myself. Now it's tired and boring. I only like cooking for others, so I can show off and be pretentious. And overuse garlic and pesto. Sigh.

Have a nice day

Still love you beeeebe.

But turns out Johnson's making me work at a conference all weekend, see you on Monday and we can make up for that dinner I missed, kay? xoxo

Passive Aggressive Notes

I am a slob, a sloth and a laze. My bedroom is generally a kip. My method of cleaning my room is to hide everything in the wardrobe or to put everything in the wash. Although I lack giving a shit to make my bed everyday or to pull my curtains (or draw? the point is they're rarely closed as that means pulling them open again), the one thing I do have is SHAME. Yes, it is shame that drives me to hide the crap from the floor in my cupboard. Shame that makes me run several steps up the stairs before any guest in order to quickly knock some empty mugs into an open drawer. I for one think that shame is a beautiful characteristic, keeps us from being too real, human and downright gross. Some people lack this shame. And it's a bit gross. Salmonella? No ta.

Admittedly this picture is fine. Just that there is food left in the pot. For how long? Can I use that pot?

SO I left a note. Hope the grammar and tone was OK. And I still want them to think that I'm cool

Playing Catch With EU Cheese

MAMA sent another package. 2 in 2 weeks, wow. I feel, what's that word? Loved? No. Feared. I mentioned to her that to have a few needles and pins would be a bit good. Ya know, for when winter falls and I need to darn my tights. And what do I get? A sweet sewing emergency kit.

• Left handed fabric scissors
• Dressmaker's pins
• Needles
• Strawberry pin cushion
• Thimble
• Stitch ripper
• Tailor's chalk
• That weird wheel thing with serrated edge
• Measuring tape
• Hook and eyes, safety pin, spare buttons
• Selection of coloured threads

Wow, looking at that list I feel like a brat. It's better than my kit at home.

Other goodies include; black bra, silvery bra, mini flake, insurance details, Bio Oil and and an un opened bottle of Boot's own Eye Wash...

wise words from bookmarkers

Just Sitting Around and Soaking Up Each Others' Awesomeness

SO some of the Hedwig followers have become a little bit envious of the life of an Erasmus kid. Sure, it's class. All sangria, euro tequila shots and creepy Spanish men with mullets. As much of a laugh it is, and as much as I like to gloat over many aspects of my new continental lifestyle, I think there is a part of me that is a little bit envious of my comrades back on home turf. Stuff that they're lucky to have:

Fresh milk.

Actual seasons.

The capacity to be witty, use word play.

Eeeeh that's all I can think of.

Free Things.

Never underestimate the amount of money locked up in bus ticket receipts. If you do, you're likely to just give them away for free, and you'll end up mightily out of pocket. Specifically, twenty Euro and fifteen cent out of pocket.

=

Then, you can go give blood. There's a bit on the form where It asks you if you've been in contact with monkeys or their 'fluids' recently. While being interrogated by the nurse, who asks you all the questions again, I asked whether anyone ever says yes to this question. Apparently about 2 people a year do. I thought at first that it must be those people who train monkeys in the circus, but apparently it's mostly just veterinary students.

Once you've proved that you're not a gay, or a drug user, or a foreigner, you get to give a pint of blood. It only takes about 8 minutes, but the record apparently is 3 minutes. Unfortunately, the speed depends on how big your veins are and not your heart rate, so it's pointless to get all your friends around for a blood-off because there's nothing you can do to ensure you'll win.

Then comes the free stuff. A canteen filled with sandwiches, timeouts, 7up, tea, Tayto Crisps and biscuits. It's class.

You can even eat the food if you couldn't give blood, just like this fat bastard did. 3 sandwiches and many time outs later, the nurse giving out the food wasn't best pleased.

Indie 'till the end

Shitbuzz, whilst cycling home from work just when I was getting smug about it and wondering why I ever got the bus I find myself lying on the ground cursing the day someone put a curb there. In a touching metaphor for life I clambered right back up, brushed it off and cycled home. However, when 3 days later the arm still won't straighten concerned family members decided it's perhaps time to get it checked out (mostly due to previous history of broken bones left to reset incorrectly..hem).

However, when lumbered with a standard grade white sling I decide this simply will not stand. Like any blogger worth their salt quickly slapped a sweet silk scarf on over it (with some help from a kindly first aid trained technician) et voila, statement injury wear for the 21st century girl about town.

Also, not to brag but getting it signed by Zach Condon'll also do the trick.

Nah, I am bragging. He's preeeetty.

I'm doing alright

During Daylight Hours

IT IS FUN TO DO STUFF. So we did things. Namely, got food and fucked aound (oooh risky choice of words!) the Trinity College area. Our first port of call was this sweet street side cafe for class pizzas. Then we saw a wedding in the Trinzer chapel. One guest wore a dress from Topshop that is now on sale. Scarleh. After digesting, we headed to that new milkshake place on Dame Street for some hotly awaited Kinder Bueno shakes. They were indeed class and the place was packed. Then it was off to Stephan's Green where we watched Italian students meet the face off each other. Some may call this dogging. As we took photos, they'd probably be correct in calling it this.

It was a good day.

And that's it

Nutty People in a Fruity World

I found my 6th class English copy. This is a story I wrote. I typed it all out, cos the photos were shit.

It was a normal day in foodville. Everyone was happy, until there was a murder. Tim the tomato had been fried, instantly killing him. It was all over the news because it was Foodvilles first murder. The culprits had to be apprehended, and quickly. The two officers assigned to the case were detective sausage and detective egg. Egg was 40 years old and had been with the force for for 4 years. Sausage was 30 and had been with the force for 3 years. Sausage was quite athletic but egg was fat, and could only waddle, not run. Sausage was single and egg was a loner. Together they made the perfect breakfast, but that's beside the point. They were the best men the force had ever had, and if anyone could apprehend the killer, they could.

First they visited tomato's family. They had said that he was shady and was a drug user. They went to his apartment and did a search. They tore the place apart. Underneath one of the floorboards they found a calling-card. It said :

Joe V. Turnip

2479054

Mob: 0872745398

They trashed the place some more, and left. They phoned the number.

Beep beep.....beep beep.....(picks up phone)

Egg: Hi

Joe: Hi

Egg: Say, are you a criminal?

Joe: No

Egg: Are you sure?

Joe: Yes

Egg: Aha! You said yes!

Joe: I know, I said it in relation to your question.

Egg: Liar! You confessed damn you, YOU CONFESSED

Joe: No I didn't you imbecile. I fart in your general direction! (puts down phone)

“Well, that sucked” said sausage “but I managed to track his phone.” “Where does he live” Inquired Egg. “Next Door” replied sausage. So they went next door.

First, they called in backup. A police helicopter hovered over the apartment block, police marksmen aimed at Joe's head, the area was cordoned off, and a SWAT team was waiting to go in. “When I say go, take down the door and go in” said Egg. “SNOW!” he shouted. “Just testin' ya” he said to the annoyed cops. “GO” he yelled. The swat team broke down the door. Tear gas filled the room, the place was trashed, and Joe was apprehended.

At the cop station Joe was tortured and beaten, and finally he gave in. he said that he was a member of the Turnip gang. The Turnip gang were notorious. They had been suspected of cooking other vegetables, illegal seed selling, banana peeling and illegal fruit smuggling, amongst other things. Their headquarters were in the middle of town, in Banana row. It was found out that Tim the tomato owed the Turnip gang seeds. A lot of seeds. And the suspected murderer was the leader of the Turnip gang, Don Turnip the VIII, and he was ruthless.

Egg and Sausage needed a plan. And fast. So, like in all good cop stories, they went to a lap dancing club. There they had some booze, got drunk, and formulated a plan. Their plan was to kill two members of the Turnip gang, steal their clothes, wear a balaclava to conceal their breakfast food features, ask to see the boss (Don Turnip VIII), kill him, and peg it. It was stupid and likely to fail, but they went ahead with it. First they killed a tomato, realised that they were meant to kill a member of the gang, and killed two turnips. They donned their new clothes and their balaclavas and walked in the front door of the headquarters. It was a very nice place, and it had snooker, a pool, a wide-screen TV, and girls. From a van swat teams tracked their every move, and after 2 hours they got bored and told egg (through an earpiece) to stop playing snooker and get on with the mission. So egg and sausage went upstairs, went into the Don's room, shot him, and ran. Sausage was out of there as quick as you could say “You're ugly,” but egg took his time, and he got shot. So sausage ran back in, grabbed egg, and also got shot.

It was time for the swat team. They ran in, shot everyone in sight, grabbed egg (it took 4 men to lift him) and sausage (one one man needed), and got out of there.

All in all:

The investigation took 1 week all in all.

Two apartments were destroyed.

One building went up in flames (the HQ)

33 people died. 17 were injured.

2 people suffered from insanity after the investigation.

Egg retired. Sausage got a raise.

And the case was solved.