Saying Goodbye To An Old Friend

'Cat' is definitely valid in the scrabble dictionary, right?

A couple of weeks back, we had to take my cat to the vets to have him put down because he'd basically got too old to function properly any more. Don't worry, this isn't going to be a letter telling him how much I'll miss him kind-of-post (I've seen a fair few of these in my time), because 1) He was a cat and therefore was pretty unlikely to read a letter anyway and 2) I can't help but feel like these sort of posts can be a little ridiculous-full of emotion and grief and heartache and, to be honest, I don't really understand.

We got Midnight (aforementioned cat) when I was 6 or 7 so he was a pretty grand age for a moggy, and was showing it. He was half blind, probably deaf and for the past year or so had been becoming more and more decrepit looking as he stopped looking after himself properly-I have no doubts that this was the right thing to do for him.
It's slightly weird to think that he'd been around for 2/3 of my life though-he'd met all of my boyfriends and a lot of my friends,  and left lasting impressions (and by impressions I mean scars!) on many of them, as well as all of my family. He'd put up with horrible children poking and prodding and chasing him for the last few years with a remarkable level of tolerance to say that he'd never really had the nicest temperament and was just as likely to gouge chunks out of your arm as he was to curl up on your knee. He was basically the grumpiest cat in the world, but he was well loved 'til the end. But that's it really. I mean he was just a cat. I don't know if I'm just particularly pragmatic about these things or particularly heartless but I'm really not too sad that he's gone. I mean sure, I keep seeing bundles of dark-coloured-somethings and thinking it's him curled up somewhere until I remember that it's not, and yes, that makes me a bit sad but I'm not heartbroken by it, I'm not all emotional, I'm not grieving. My Dad cried at the vets a few times but my eyes were dry-I felt a little choked up as it happened but otherwise I'm fine about it, really. At the end of the day, he was a pet, not a person-I dunno, it just feels strange to me that people can get so tied up in grieving for an animal. We were asked if we wanted to cremate him, which seemed really ridiculous to me. It's a cat.

It did make me think though-this is the first time I have ever really experienced death on a personal level. I've been lucky enough to get to 23 years old and still have three living grandparents-which I know is something that not everyone is able to claim. My other Grandad died when I was 6 or 7, when I was too young to really care too much. I've never been to a funeral, even, and touch wood I won't have to for a little while longer yet. My grandparents are no longer in the greatest of health, and they, like the cat, are starting to look a little run down, but they're still here-for now. That's what I've really learned from this-that I should thank my lucky stars that the I've never known grief, that the only death I've ever experienced was that of my cat. And I know that this won't last forever, that one day I'll know the sadness of someone I love dying, but I will find a way to deal with that when the time comes. For now I'm just appreciating how lucky I am that all the people I care about are still here, for however much longer that will last.

My cat had a good run and was well loved and looked after, and had a painless end, and really, I can only hope that when the time comes I can say the same for me and the people I love.

-Jenni-

A Fancy Sort Of Confession

Now I am about to reveal something to you that may surprise you a little, if you know me at all (or read my blog often enough to pretend that you do.) Hold on to your hats, folks, it's a shocker.
I have been a student, and a teenager. I love to go on stage and spend a lot of time in very silly costumes of one variety of another. I have even worn a beard in the interest of performing and have included a picture for your pleasure (because I know you were all dying to see it). I'm largely unafraid of making a fool of myself in most situations, but that is not the the thing that I have to confess, because you should all have realised this by now.
No, what I have to say is this:

I'm not very good at fancy dress.

I'd go so far as to say I'm completely and totally pants at it. I either always over think things and end up as something that no-one recognises and I have to spend the whole night explaining it to people, or I try so hard to be different and do something that no-one else will think of that I end up as something that no-one recognises and I have to spend the whole night explaining it to people, or I don't really know how to make the theme work for me so I end up as something that no-one recognises and I have to spend the whole night explaining it to people.

I mean take the last time I did anything to celebrate Halloween. I had a thought about it and didn't want to do any of the usual stuff-witches, vampires, pumpkins etc. I thought I'd be clever and go as 'Death on Holiday' (I might have been reading too much Pratchett at the time...). My other-half-at-the-time made me an excellent anatomically correct skeleton T-shirt with ribs and bones drawn on. Well...it was anatomically correct until I put it on and suddenly my skeleton grew...protuberances. I teamed this with a Scythe and a grass skirt and would have had facepaint too had it not made my skin feel like it was melting off. I felt so cool and unique. I spent all evening explaining what the hell I had come as and felt like an idiot. That is the best picture I could find (after much Facebook searching.) Yes I have a zombie hand on my boob, sorry, ribs. It's just not worth questioning these things any more.



Then there was the occasion that I decided that people should come to my birthday dressed as their favourite musical characters. This was, admittedly, not a sensible option, not everyone likes musicals and apart from obvious things like 'Grease' or 'Cats' people are probably not going to be able to recognise you.
What did I dress as? A bohemian. From We Will Rock You. Only I didn't have anything skimpy enough or leathery enough or covered in studs enough. Basically I just wore odd clothes and bright makeup. It probably didn't work. I also spent all evening pointing out to people what I was. Again.

Then there was the time my friend had a "cartoon" themed birthday. See if you can guess who I was-big pigtails with purple ribbons, short purple dress, orange sleeves and hideous blue and green tights. I even had purple shoes. I thought I'd nailed it this time, there was no way people wouldn't know who I was, right?
WRONG. I had to spend all night explaining that I was Angelica from the Rugrats-I even had a Cynthia (apparently the actual one wasn't really naked but hey ho).



I am so done with fancy dress. I'm not even sure I like it that much any way. I'm not completely against it by any means, I don't hate and loathe it like some people, but I'm just a bit 'meh' about it. Yeah, it's kind of fun when you're all in a big group together looking a bit mad. When you're on the bus, or in the queue for the loo, or at the bar you look a bit weird, and not in the good way. And it's so much effort and for what? For people to not know who you are, for someone to always have made a tonne more effort than you did and look a million times more amazing, for someone to have gone out and cheated by hiring a proper costume from a costume shop. For strange looks and comments and for people to just not get it. I'm tired of it.

We've had a good run, fancy dress and I, I had lots of fancy dress birthday parties as a child, and had lots of fun with them, I've tried a lot as an adult and had less success. But I think we should amicably part ways here. I'm just not that into you, fancy dress, it's not you, it's me, I just don't like you enough any more, I think (shock horror) I might have outgrown you a little. Sorry I'm not sorry.

-Jenni-

And for your enjoyment, and because I didn't want to spam you with too many pictures, here's a slide show of some more of my fancy dress win/fails. Mostly fails, let's face it. There are many more than this, but I can't find pictorial evidence of them any more =( (I have spent a LOT of time scouring FB today for you folks, hope you appreciate it!)

"It's All About Popular"

[From the Discover Ireland FB page]

I recently got through to the final stages of a competition to win a trip to Ireland, which I was pretty excited about-until I discovered that the winner was going to be chosen by Facebook vote and then I was a lot less so. I knew pretty much right away that I wasn't going to win it simply because by making it open to Facebook, it becomes a popularity contest-and I have never been what you would call popular. There was a time that I did want to fit in, wanted to be cool and wanted all the popular kids to like me, accept me as one of them, but eventually I realised that this was never going to happen. I started embracing my uniqueness, trying to make a point of standing out, actively seeking to be different and not one of the crowd, to be anything but popular. I mean if it's going to happen anyway you might as well make it your own, right?

Also, I use Facebook as a convenient place to keep all my friends together for when I need to tell them something important, but most people seem to use it as a way of collecting as many "friends" as they possibly can-almost as a way of proving how popular they are. I know everyone on my friend list and regularly have culls to delete those people I no longer really speak to any more. Against someone who has 3x more virtual buddies than me, I was never going to be able to hold my own.

I also noticed that the "competition" was really bringing out the nasty side in people-right from the start there was a couple-let's call them Couple 1-that I had a particular dislike for just because they came across as pushy and unpleasant, like they knew they were going to win anyway so it didn't matter if the rest of us tried or not. Before the ballot had even been opened they put out a plea for votes from the site's fans in a manner that just got my back up-but also in a way that had I replied to it I would have either seemed unoriginal or catty. Suddenly I minded losing to them, would rather any other pair won just so they didn't.

About half way through another pair-let's call them Couple 2-got a sudden upsurge in votes, overtaking Couple 1 (who had been leading right from day 1) by a considerable amount. Couple 1 started accusing them of cheating-of buying votes and clamouring for the votes to be investigated by the site. It just reeked of being a sore loser and that they didn't think anyone else should win but them. It almost felt like if you weren't playing dirty in some way then you couldn't win-Couple 1 had amassed over 120 votes in the first day alone while the rest of us were somewhere around the 20-70 mark and I think we basically all knew we didn't stand a chance against them. Whatever tactics they were using obviously worked because (of course) they won with 571 votes-the next nearest couple had 415. We were third and had 154 votes so it's not even like we had a shot any way. Couple 1 seemed really ungracious and I just really didn't want them to win because they don't come across as very nice people. (Although I am judging this solely on the comments I saw on the poll from them, so what do I know?)

The whole "competition" caused a lot of nastiness and bitterness, and for what? 48 hours in Dublin. Yes, it would have been an amazing prize to win but I don't think it's worth crapping all over other people just because you can. To be honest, I sort of wish I wasn't involved with the whole thing because it left a decidedly nasty taste in my mouth. Some people will do anything to prove that they're more popular, more loved, better than someone else. And yes, there was a prize at the end of it, but it didn't really feel like it was the end goal at points, it felt more like a high school competition-'I've got more friends than you so I'm better than you and you're nothing'. I didn't want to participate in those whilst I was at school, let alone now, when I should have (happily) left it all behind me.

So I hope Couple 1 enjoy their holiday, but I'm kinda glad that I know nearly everyone who contributed to those 154 votes. I might not be popular enough to win Facebook contests but I have a good bunch of excellent friends. If you took the time to vote for me then THANKYOU. I'm so grateful to you all for that. And while this means that I won't be able to write excellent Irish blog posts for you, I'm sure I can find something to fill the time instead.

See you there!

-Jenni-

Title of Post taken from 'Popular'-Wicked The Musical

Diary Of A Scrounger

Ugh, even this makes me feel depressed

I've been on the dole for a little over two months now and they've already made me want to jack it all in again-if it weren't for the fact that I kinda need the money I probably would have by now. I'm a little in awe of anyone who chooses to deliberately live like this (like our dear government seems to think so many people are doing)-going in for fortnightly meetings, being moved around from person to person, having forms filled in for you (because of course they're much too complicated to do by yourself!) and jumping through all of the necessary hoops to keep them satisfied that you're actively looking for work-it's exhausting and humiliating. I can't understand why anyone would choose that as a life for themselves if they had any other options.

When I was sat there the other day having the appropriate form filled out for me, there was a box to fill in my National Insurance Number, so I rattled it off to the guy. He continued searching through the various bits of paper looking for it so I assumed he hadn't heard me. I told him it again, and this time he acknowledged that I'd spoken to him, yet he still found the appropriate bit of paper and copied it down as if I'd never opened my mouth. I just felt like a child, like I couldn't be trusted to know my own personal information and it had to be verified through another source.

On another occasion my advisor expressed surprise that I hadn't got a job if I was applying to all the ones I'd listed on their stupid form. I told her why-because I'm really crap at application forms-then asked if they had anything that could help me with that. She basically replied that they only really have workshops to help people who have never had a job and that there wouldn't be any point in me going on them because they wouldn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Apparently I have had too much work experience for the job centre to help me find a job...great. Oh and my degree, that confuses them every time. I sometimes have to wonder if I am the only person who's come through Higher Education who's ever stepped foot in that place, the way they goggle at me like I'm an alien. Clearly the concepts of a graduate failing at life is not something they encounter all that often at the good ol' dole office.

This week they didn't give me any money. I've been racking my brains trying to work out why this is, because as far as I know I'd done all that they had asked of me. Apparently I didn't jump through every hoop properly, or forgot to do something and therefore MUST BE PUNISHED. Now I'm kinda lucky in that I do have a little bit of spare money to play with-money that was ear marked out for driving lessons but is slowly but surely being consumed by trips to Sheffield and a new waterproof coat for this lovely British summer we're having etc. I'm not desperate for the dole money (yet!), but I can't help but wonder what would happen if I was? What if that £113 was all that I had to last me two weeks, and it got taken away with no prior warning, where would that leave me? I had a meeting with my advisor last week, she could have told me what I had neglected to do, given me some forewarning that I wouldn't be getting anything this week, pointed out my mistake so that I wouldn't do it again. Instead the first inkling I had that I was getting any money for (at least) this fortnight was when it wasn't in my bank account on Monday morning. If I'd have needed that money to, y'know, LIVE OFF, I would have been absolutely screwed: No food for me this week, I have nothing to buy it with. That's OK though, because I can't even pay for the bus trip to the supermarket because I have no money. Better not turn on any lights or use any hot water because I have nothing to pay the bills with.
I know I am lucky because these aren't problems I am actually facing, but Jesus, if the people who run the country think that people would actually choose to live like that, their livelihood decided by the whim of someone else, then they're bigger wankers than I thought they were. Here I was thinking the job centre actually want to help people. Fat chance.

-Jenni-

My dear readers, can I ask of you a huge favour? Me and my best friend Rara have made the final of a competition to win a holiday to Dublin but the result is decided by Facebook votes. Please can you spare a couple of seconds to go to this link and vote for 'Jenni and Sarah' to give us a shot? I would be forever grateful!
THANK YOU!

30 Posts of Truth-Part 8

8. Someone Who Made Your Life Hell

(or treated you like shit)

When I first saw this list of truths I knew exactly who I'd be writing this post about-my first and second year housemate at university. For the sake of anonymity I'm not going to reveal her name, but I'll give her a pseudonym to save overuse of pronouns. Let's call her Tracey, because I don't actually know any Traceys so I hope I won't cause offence to anyone reading this. 

Now Tracey was the first housemate I met when I moved into my flat and she seemed nice enough-she jumped up from her room to shake my hand and helped me and my Dad bring my stuff up from the car. For the first few weeks of term we got on well enough, we went out together (as is practically required) in Fresher's week, we sat on the floor of our kitchen (we didn't have a living room) with our other housemates and found out all the interesting personal details about each other's sex lives, we generally rubbed along, whilst of course getting used to being away from home and in the big scary world of university. 

All the people that lived in our flat (plus two others) signed for a house together in the November, so I was obviously still getting along with her well enough by this point. I can't really remember at which point that changed, nor why it happened-truth be told I think I've blocked a lot of memories out of those two years because I can't remember much of it at all, and to be honest, I'm kinda grateful for that.

Maybe it's because we both had quite strong personalities-we both were vying for the "top dog" position I guess. Tracey was also one of those people who had to have the better story than you-no matter what situation you were in she had it worse/better. I can remember one incident where I, having not received any Student Finance at all at this point was very stressfully eeking out my £500 overdraft to last me the term. Tracey came into my room and complained at me for about half an hour that it was so unfair that her mum wanted to get remarried because if that happened  she would lose about a grand a year in loans. This from the same girl who was constantly telling us she would probably come out of university with no debt. From a girl from a fairly affluent family, who received full student loans because she lived with her mum, a single parent, but who also got money from her Dad plus two bursaries from the university for being there.
It's no exaggeration at all if I tell you that Tracey was the most self-centred person I have ever met. She basically thought the world revolved around her and if you contradicted that view then you were unequivocally wrong. She just made it very difficult for me to actually like her very much.

Fast forward to my second year, through the summer that I had spent dreading my return to uni, because I knew it meant returning to sharing a house with her. My stress levels were so high that I was probably an awful person to live with too, because I couldn't cope with the little un-important things because I was already at a level where everything caused me anguish. There were 6 of us in this house-me, Tracey and four others. At the start of the year it was just me that had problems with Tracey, and I had put it down to an epic personality clash between us or something. By the end of the year there were 5 of us left living in the house, and only one of them was still left talking to Tracey. She'd turned even the most easy going of people against her, someone who would go out of her way to be nice to everyone and always tried to understand things from the other person's point of view, so it can't have just been in my head. 

I don't remember any arguments though, that's the weird thing. I remember passive-aggressive Facebook updates (hers) and passive-aggressive notes (mine) but I don't remember any big blazing fall outs. All I know is that the situation devolved to the point where I ended up having to take special circumstances for my second year summer exams, so that I could retake them when not under the hugely stressful influence that was living with Tracey. That when my friend offered me a room in the house she had already signed for with 6 other people I'd never met before in the January of that year I took her up on that offer like she was throwing me a life boat as I was drowning. In a way, she truly was. 

As I said, it's weird, I don't really remember what caused it all, if it was any one thing. There are a few incidents that will stick in my mind forever-one that I shall refer to only as the Sugar Glider Incident *shudder* but I think overall I just couldn't tolerate someone who was that set on making all around her feel inferior. She had to show you that everything she had was better than whatever you had-her relationship, her grades, her life. She must have been desperately insecure but I can't feel sorry for her because she was just so horrendous to live with. She definitely made my life hell for a while, but thankfully I haven't seen her since the day she moved out for good (leaving her bedroom such a horrendous mess that we lost some of our deposit to have it cleaned professionally...) and have no intention of ever going back to resolve any of the issues between us. 

Actually, no, that's a lie. I did see her, the other day in a pub in Sheffield. She saw me at the exact same time...and then we both pretended we hadn't noticed a thing and carried on with our lives. And that is EXACTLY how I like it.

So long Tracey, I don't miss you.

-Jenni-

A Wonderful Thing

Yesterday I had a horrible evening but also a wonderful thing. Let me tell you my tale of woe: 

 Yesterday (and today) I had a training course in the art of phlebotomy so I can be a phabulous and phlamboyant phlebotomist now. This was held at a hotel that's near East Midlands Airport actually in the middle of smegging nowhere, meaning I had to get the airport bus into town so that I could get a bus home again. This is where all the fun started.

My course finished at 5pm and the next bus wasn't until 5.49 which was a teeny bit annoying but not much I could do about it. I set an alarm on my phone for 5.45 and sat in the lobby of the hotel doing sudoku, and enjoying the 90s music that was playing on the TV in the bar area.

Westlife-Flying Without Wings is playing on the tv in this Hotel bar...they all look about 12. Big floppy blonde curtains and spikey hair!
— Jenni Thompson (@CircleThinker) February 23, 2013

 At 5.48 I checked my phone to realise my alarm hadn't gone off. I legged it outside to the bus stop (literally outside the hotel door, up 5 steps) to watch the bus pull away in a cloud of horrible smelling exhaust fumes. Slightly cross, I trudged back into the bar to resume my sudoku for another hour.

Missed my cocking bus, next one is in another hour. ARSE. Stranded at a Holiday Inn near an airport, FUN TIMES.
— Jenni Thompson (@CircleThinker) February 23, 2013 

That was rather annoying, and I was now a little bit cross, but life was still bearable. Then this happened:

Hotel bar has now turned off awesome 90s music and put some kind of sports game on. FML.
— Jenni Thompson (@CircleThinker) February 23, 2013

It was the rugby apparently.

Now I was annoyed. And by this time getting really rather peckish as I hadn't eaten since lunch. Wisely I had decided to spend my last £1 on 20 minutes of internet rather than something I could put in my face and so now my stomach was rumbling. Luckily, I found half of Friday's flapjack in my bag. Result.
So I sat and whiled away my time, constantly checking my phone, and at 6.45 I went to stand outside for the next bus. Which either didn't show up or was so early it hadn't stopped at my bus stop, and just so happened was the LAST BUS that went by that stop. By 7.05 I was cold, exhausted, hungry, really ill (have had a horrible cold since Thursday) and close to tears with the realisation that I might now have to go home via a whole extra city which would add another hour/hour and a half to my journey.
Another bus pulled up on the opposite side of the road, and I ran across so I could ask the driver what my best course of action was. In response to me running across in front of him with all the grace and dignity of a baby hippo, he looked me square in the eyes, shook his head, shut his doors and pulled away. I did what any sensible person in this situation would do; promptly burst into tears. After about 5 minutes of this, I realised that it was snowing, and it was so cold that my tears were hurting my cheeks. So I pulled myself together (read: wrapped my scarf around my face so no-one could see me) and scurried back inside the hotel to mop myself up in their loos.
No-longer tear stained and wretched, but still feeling pretty miserable, I plonked myself back in the lobby to wait for the bus that would take me to another city. Then I got out my phone and fired off this text to 5 lovely ladies:
"Darlings, if one of you is free please talk to me because I'm in major need of a cheerup right now"
which was probably the most sensible thing I'd done all evening.
This is where the wonderful thing happened. Over the next couple of hours, every single one of them replied to me with messages of sympathy, encouragement, concern and things to make me laugh. One of them completely filled my Twitter and my Facebook walls with things that made me smile and giggle like a loon when I saw them, whilst simultaneously repeatedly texting me the words 'Boobs' and 'Pants' to make me laugh (Don't ask. I'm not going to tell you even if you do).

No, really

One of them offered me a lift today so I didn't have to deal with the same horrendous bus issues and I was the gratefullest of grateful things. They all helped me feel better in one way or another so by the time I was finally, finally on a bus on my way home, I was feeling much more like myself and a lot less like I was going to just sob at everyone endlessly until someone took pity on me. I think sometimes I forget just how much we can rely on our friends for the little things, as well as the big ones, and I forget just how nice it is to have people who will try to make you smile just because you tell them you're having a sad. So thank you ladies, all of you, you were all wonderful  and exactly what I needed. I will buy you all a drink/tea/cake/awesome cocktail/toffee toffee flapjack pie/your poison of choice next time we hang out together because you're marvellous.

Oh and I did get home in the end. EVENTUALLY. These tweets were sent about 20 minutes apart:

MANGO is like an Oyster card but only for buses in Nottingham k?

And when I did get home I ate Ben and Jerry's because I felt like I'd earned it.

So yeah. Look after your friends, and they'll look after you. I'm looking after you all by sharing this video that was sent as one of my cheerups (it'll make you go gooey, promise):

And for future reference, this is my wish list for cheery things:

Oh and hugs are good too.

Tata!

-Jenni-

Why Don't Shops Sell Clothes in MY SIZE?

Used with permission from Debbie Ridpath Ohi
at Inkygirl.com

So I went browsing in a shop the other day*, saw a couple of things I liked on the sale rale and took them into the changing room to try on. As you do, you know, like normal. Both of the items I had picked up were a size 18 which is what size I happen to be** and so I expected them to fit me. As you do. What happened was this: The lovely teal dress I tried I had expected not to fit me around the shoulder region. Normally size 18 dresses won't do up above about my bra strap level so I was expecting disappointment, but I could barely get my bum in it and it wouldn't zip higher than my lower back. The second item was more promising; a not-really-wool long T-shirt/short dress type thing. I did get it on but the sleeves were so tight that they hurt (which is definitely not something I look for in my clothes!) and the actual dress was also really tight. I could have worn it-it looked fine, but I wouldn't have felt comfortable in it at all. My conclusion is that these clothes were not really a size 18. I wouldn't have minded if they had said they were a 14/16 on the label but 18 on the hanger, then I would have realised my mistake and left it. Or even if they were sized differently in the first place-I wouldn't have tried them on then. But why go to the bother of making clothes in larger sizes if they're not actually the sizes they claim to be? Why go "Come and shop in our shop, we do lots of common sizes and we're awesome" when you really mean "we don't want to sell you clothes if you are bigger than a certain size!" Don't even get me started on Primark-whoever decided that the difference between a size 10 and a size 20 is simply about 6 inches in length but no other dimensions is a total idiot who has never met an actual woman.

More recently, I went shopping in the Dorothy Perkins online sale and treated myself to this lovely dress in a size 20, note a full size ABOVE my actual size (because dresses are weird shapes, basically!). I collected it from the store and took it to the changing rooms to try on. So far so good. Unzipping the dress, I tried to pull it on in the normal fashion-over the head. I couldn't get the waistband (which if you look at the picture you'll notice is quite tight) over my boobs. I thought this was a little odd but nevertheless continued undeterred. Thinking perhaps that you had to get into it in the more unconventional method of pulling it up over your hips, I tried this. This time I couldn't get the waistband over my bum. I thought perhaps I hadn't unzipped it all the way, but on closer inspection, I had, from neck to hip level. I tried again to get it over my head, thinking I had originally got the underskirt tangled up thus preventing my success. Nope, even with pulling the underskirt down first it wouldn't go on. I ask you this: why would a designer make a dress that was a size 20, when a size 18 woman can't even get it on because the designer waistband (which I'm sure would have made it look lovely on) is un-stretchy and ill-sized? Normally I don't have a problem with Dotty P's stuff, I own a lot of their clothes and regularly fit into a size 18 with no issues at all, so I can only conclude that this was a spectacularly poorly designed dress that can only be worn with people who don't have any body fat at all or who are made of elastic, and therefore can stretch themselves thinner to get into it. I'm sure it would have looked absolutely lovely on Mrs. Incredible.

It's bad enough that so many shops don't even make ranges in any sizes above a 16***, maybe an 18 at a push, like just because you're a larger person it means you can't shop in fashionable shops if you want to. Then the shops that do stock our sizes appear to be squeezing us out (pun totally intended) as well by making their clothes just a smidgen too small to be comfortable, or to do up correctly, or for us to fit in at all. Let's face it, clothing designers, Britain is getting fatter. If the UK average is a size 16 then if the rest of the data fits on a bell curve there are as many size 18 people out there as size 14, as many 20s as 12s (Yes, I'm dumbing all this down for the purposes of this post, don't focus on my [lack of] knowledge of statistics and averages, OK?). Surely then, you should be looking out for us larger ladies as much as your skinnier clientele, surely you should be wanting us to spend our money in your shops and look amazing in your clothes as a walking advertisement too, instead of driving us away by making ill fitting clothes that clearly aren't in the sizes you proclaim them to be. Here's a hint, when you're making them, GET PEOPLE TO TRY THEM ON IN EVERY SIZE. That way you'd know beforehand when you were making a dress that has a waistband rendering it utterly useless to anyone with lumps and bumps and could rectify this before rolling them out to the shops.
Instead, I'm complaining to Dotty P's and writing this blog post. HEY. I'm a size 18, not some magical made up size in your head, Mx. Designer. I want to buy clothes that fit me, thanks. Make it so.

-Jenni-

*Disclaimer: The other day in this instance actually equals a few months ago now. I started writing this then ran out of steam in the middle.
**admittedly I am an 18/20 in dresses due to my gargantuan shoulders, but still.
***Don't even get me started on this, that's another blog post for another day!

The 4am Blues

Source

So it would appear that my insomnia is back again, and this time it bought a friend along for the journey-a hefty dose of paranoia and worrying. Which is, y'know, fun. You know those little, niggly things that if you thought of any other time of day you'd swat away like an annoying insect intent on feasting on you? Have you ever noticed how if they sneak up on you when you're trying to go to sleep they become the biggest things in the world? They circle around and around in your brain getting bigger and bigger and suddenly you definitely aren't going to sleep because this is all you can think about and you have no idea how you're going to solve the problem and it's really rather worrying. So I gave up and tried to get out of bed. In the process of doing this I managed to whack my knee pretty hard on* the side of the bed which left me writhing in agony and swearing like a sailor for a while. Once this had subsided from a raging fire to a dull ache (and a lovely bruise), I again attempted to stand up. Bearing in mind that I live in an attic, bearing in mind that my writhing had left me in a slightly further back poisiton than I thought I was and bearing in mind I have low beams at just about head height you can probably guess what happened next. By this point I was already over tired and emotionally frought and the bang on the head was enough to tip me over from in control to emotional wreck. It didn't even hurt that much, but I was fighting back the tears all the same, and just felt a bit shitty about everything.
This time last year I would have had a friend on another continent who would put up with me being miserable at her for a bit and then generally make me feel better by balancing things on her head. It was the only time when the time difference between here and Australia wasn't a bitch to navigate, when I was having a 5am meltdown and she was calmly sitting there in the middle of the afternoon just being strange to me to make me smile. Nowadays she's back residing in RightWayUpLand and so is currently asleep like most normal people are at this time of day, which is wonderful, most of the time, but leaves me bereft of a cheerer upper at times like this**.
So what's an emotional, close to tears and in need of a friend girl to do at 4am when everyone else is slumbering? Answer: Turn to the internet.
Somehow I stumbled upon some wonderful blogs. And I read them, and they made me giggle a little (especially this one) and then I felt better. Much better in fact. It's like there's this whole network of people all talking to each other-maybe not directly, but through their blogs. Whatever problem you're having, someone else has had it too, and written about it in their own little corner of the internet just so you can read it and feel relieved that you're not alone, that there is a solution, that it's really nothing to worry about really. It's a really supportive and awesome community, that of the blogging peeps, whether they are directly talking to you on Google+ (I Google+ now, Google+ is cool.) or whether it's just putting out awesome blogs designed to put a smile on your face. Either way, I'm pleased that I am a tiny little part of it.

And to all my fellow bloggers,
THANKS. YOU'RE WONDERFUL.

-Jenni-


*I'm glad I proof read this. There was originally no space between hard and on. I would just like to clarify that I did not knock my knee on a hardon-there's scarce few of those in my life at the moment and if one came along I probably wouldn't take my knee to it. Well...not straight away anyway.
**Something which I don't attribute any blame to her for, because I can almost guarantee I've just made her feel guilty about it. If so, sorrysorry. It wasn't meant that way, I'm tired and it's silly AM and I'm writing a blog post coz that's what I do now.

One Day More...

One more day til unemployment

It will make you feel so glum,
No more money left for cool things

Or for anything that's fun...

Hopefully Herbert Kretzmer won't mind me bastardising his lyrics to make my point here. On a side note, I haven't been to see the film version yet, but I am hoping to in the next week or so because I do really want to goooooo.

Ahem.
It's 2am, I just (about half an hour ago at least) got back from a night out at my theatre for Skit-the staff version of the pantomime that I've been working for the last 6 weeks (Originally typed months here, it feels longer than it's been, clearly). It followed basically the same story line although there were a lot more nob jokes than in the family friendly version, and it was pretty hilarious. Tomorrow I'm working the matinee performance and then watching the final showing as is traditional. And then that's it. This time tomorrow I'll be unemployed again. I'm only just realising how much I'm going to miss it-it's not the most difficult job by any stretch of the imagination, but it's something I've really really enjoyed doing and can do well. Of course, it's the people that make it, and no matter how much they could have resented us newbies for coming in and purloining all their shifts, none of them seemed to in reality. Actually, they're all really great people, I've never had a shift where I felt like I didn't have anyone to talk to or like I wasn't included in the group. They've helped me out when I needed help and didn't try to help once I knew what I was doing which is always nice. Theatres can be very cliquey places and it's easy to be estranged from people within them, but I've not felt any of that whilst I've been here. Everyone will nod and smile a hello at you even when they clearly haven't the foggiest who you are, and that's really wonderful. It makes me really sad to think I more than likely won't see most of them ever again.

But that's not the only rubbish thing. I like having a job, I like feeling like a helpful member of society, I like having a reason to get dressed and leave the house a couple of days a week. I know that I'm just going to go back to spending all my time in my pyjamas and feeling sorry for myself again soon, and that's RUBBISH. And then I'm going to have to spend my time getting REALLY stressed out at application forms to the point where I just get cross and then don't do them anyway, because that's what always happens. I'm really bad at this whole 'being a grown up' thing. And if anyone tells me that 'All good things have to come to an end' I'm going to throw things at them, because that's a pants life philosophy to live by. Also because I don't want this one too, because I love it just a little bit too much. 

Ugh. 

Fine. 

Hand me the job section of the local paper, but know that I'm not going to enjoy this, not one little bit. I think I'm entitled to just a little bit of sulking, no?

One more shift left at the Playhouse

Then it's time to see the show, 

I've had such a brilliant time there

And I don't want to go.

SIGH.

Don't Feed The Trolls

Source: Thankyou Wikipedia

Thankfully, I have never (yet!) myself fallen victim to those most heinous cowards; the Internet Trolls, but I know of several people who have and heard about many unpleasant things that have been said and done to both my friends and total strangers. Tonight I followed such an incident on (where else) Facebook-one of those groups that are specifically set up to invoke rage in people. You know the ones- usually being very callous and heartless about a subject that many people will find inflammatory or hurtful such as (genuine example from the pit of the Facebook Trolls) "Cancer is funny coz people die, LOLS." The particular group tonight, much as I hate to promote them, was called "I Hate Teen Moms" and was basically doing a good job of what trolls do best-upsetting a group of people for fun by calling them all "immoral" and "a burden to society" as well as being "illiterate". Now don't get me wrong, everyone is entitled to have their own opinions* on a particular subject matter (and heaven knows I have been far too judgemental myself from time to time) but this group was specifically set up to troll-to cause offence just to get a reaction. When one young mum posted on their wall to say that she was finishing university that year and had completed GCSEs and A-Levels after giving birth at 16, she was leapt upon by the members of the group who began attacking her (all virtually, of course) in all sorts of disgusting ways-saying that she was "not mentally equipped to have a child at that age", that "95% of teen mothers are moronic and [she] was one of them", and that she was a "dumbf__k who couldn't keep her legs closed"** and on and on and on with this bile, all aimed at her because she tried standing up for herself against them. In the description of the group, it said that it was made for "satire and dark humour" but I could find neither in their personal attacks against her (and others-this was only reading just one comment thread of several!). I know that most people agree that you shouldn't 'feed the trolls' by giving them the reaction that they are aiming for, but when someone/the things they believe in are being assaulted then you can understand why they would try and fight their corner against them.
And the sad thing is is that this is happening in every crevice of the internet-anything that someone holds dear to them whether it be taste in music or sexuality, the way you dress or a disability, hair colour or a life style choice or horrible diseases that rob us of those we love and everything else you can think of. For every group created somewhere like Facebook to offer support, solidarity, friendship or a great chill out place for soft-cheese lovers there's at least one group of people going out of their way to (pardon my language) shit all over it just for kicks.
When did this become an accepted part of society? When did it become OK to just hurl abuse at people just to try and get a rise out of them. Since when did owning a laptop and an internet connection give someone the right to be a total dick to everyone they virtually encounter? I just can't imagine something like this happening outside of the virtual world where it's possible to be anonymous and hide behind a clever-dick screen name and offensive avatar. Outside of cases of prejudice-related violence and abuse, (which you will have to pardon me for not going into detail over today-another deplorable avenue of humanity for another blog post.) most of the judgements people make about people every day live in their heads and aren't used to bait people into a fury in the name of "satire and dark humour". Whether it's born from boredom, or cowardice or genuine malice, it sickens me sometimes to realise the lengths that people will go to just to upset other people. And whilst 90% of the time I will do what I always do, refuse to get inflamed by these groups and just click on the 'Report' button and wait for the group to be shut down***, sometimes you have to let it get to you,

Source: The Good Doctor
(Image created by me)

sometimes you have to notice how horrible human beings can be to each other in the name of a joke, and hang your head for the future of our species.

Source: Know Your Meme

Trolls, Cyber-Bullies, Flamers, Internet Dickheads, just fuck off and grow up will you? The world would be a much nicer place without you in it.

-Jenni-

NB: I'm sure Facebook could do more than it does in stopping these troll groups from reaching as many people as they do-something similar to the Twitter-bots (who search for specific terms in tweets) could monitor groups with 'I hate' in the title for inflammatory content. If a group gets reported and shut down, the person who made the group should be banned from making any more groups or pages for a while. OR SOMETHING. I don't know. There must be more that can be done to make these hideous people take their poison to some other corner of the internet where no-one will find them, surely? Hopefully some day.


*The difference, I think, comes in how you express that opinion. A lively discussion between two parties that disagree is fine, but attacking every aspect of someone's personality for a belief they hold or the way they live their lives or whatever it is is just callous and pretty disgusting, especially when it's all for your own "fun".
**Spelling and grammar corrected here.
***Sadly usually to be replaced by several more on the same topic angrily swearing about the "frigid bitches who can't take a f__king joke" etc etc

On The Flip Side

It occurred to me the other day just how often I say the phrase "it makes me want to punch them in the face". I don't think I am a horrible person, I just get annoyed really really easily, at all the little things that probably shouldn't matter. And really, everyone does from time to time, don't they? When you're having one of those days when it feels like the whole world is against you, it's really easy to get annoyed at those little things. Once a month or so, I do a list of some of the awesome things in my life, the little things that really make your day when they happen to you, but I was thinking about the other side, the things that just get on your nerves and make you grit your teeth, roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. A friend of mine joked that she was going to buy me the web-domain of Ihateeverything.com for my birthday, because I could easily fill a site like that with slightly ranty things. But instead, I'm going to do a similar post to my Awesome Things ones, only full of all those little things that are too annoying to warrant a full blog post of their own. Nothing important, nothing major, nothing life changing, just the tiny little, but still really annoying things.

Number 1: Two different types of music playing at the same time.
Drives me maaad. I can't focus on either one of them, but instead they mash together and just become awful awful noise. Aaaaaah!

Number 2: The limited number of adverts online TV providers have.
I realise that you see less adverts online than you do on the actual tele, and I'm not complaining about that. What I don't like is the fact that you can watch a show with 3 ad breaks, and watch the same four adverts in each one. It's not like you have long enough to get up and go to the loo in the break, so you have to suffer through them each time. It'd be so much better if you could have a little bit more variety, if only so I don't have to watch the same actress be amazed at the effects of her toothpaste*, or hear this guy say "yes some lovely sandwiches" again...

Number 3: People who cough/sneeze on public transport without covering their mouths.
Bler. You make me feel ill, and I can't physically hold my breath long enough to not get your germs. STOP IT, IT'S GROSS, STOP IT NOW.

Number 4: Small children's toys EVERYWHERE.
Seriously, I tread on at least one thing a day. And the whole of my house from about waist-down-height is sticky! It's HORRID. Eugh, children. No-one will ever be able to convince me that I would enjoying having some of my own.

Number 5: THIS.

Image source here

I mean WHAT? Why? Who the hell decided to make a fictional, computer generated meerkat an advertising point? Why are they STILL DOING THIS? At first, it was (And I totally agree) innovative and different and a bit fun. Now it's just annoying and ridiculous. They are selling adults insurance by offering them a free cuddly toy. It's madness. C'mon Compare the Market, Go Compare got the message that everyone hated their ads, time you do too. 

Ahhhh, that feels better. Time to stop stressing now and relaaaax.

Tata!


*NB Don't get me started on toothpaste adverts, they're full of pretend science and REALLY annoying. Does it clean my teeth? Yes. Does it taste of mint? Yes. That's all you need to know.