8 reasons why you shouldn't read my blog... and 1 reason why you should.

You know that one friend you have when you're younger that your parents just do not approve of? I'm that person to the blogger part of your brain. "Don't get involved...you'll end up with your heart broken." I'm going to break it down to nine solid reasons why my blog is a huge waste of your time...and one reason why you need to stick around.

I can’t work Twitter.

OK, I can work it. But I just think I'm Twitter-ally challenged. If I think of something tweet-worthy, it always feels a bit forced. By the time I’ve put my food down (I’m ALWAYS eating, fyi.), found my phone, unlocked it, and opened the app...seasons have passed and the moment is gone. Oh, and another thing - there will be no handy bitly link for you to stumble upon as you scroll through your favourite hashtags. You have to come straight to the source - I'm too lazy to meet you anywhere else. But when you do finally get here, I'll always have the virtual kettle on. Milk and two?

I don’t have a vlog.

Which is probably just as well, considering the only camera I have is a 3 megapixel beauty that just happened to come built into my phone that I never tweet from. 

I’m not fashionable.

Nope — you won’t find any arty OOTD pics or #fashinspo here. I’m just lucky if I can find two socks that match in the morning. I should be much more fashionable than I am, considering the amount of money I spend on clothes...but I'm working on it. 

I don’t eat healthily.

Quinoa is a city in Mexico. Kale is a mountain in Colorado. Herbal tea is disgusting. I'm completely clueless, and a little bit ignorant, when it comes to nutrition. Sticking to a healthy eating routine is so hard, right? Right?! It’s not? Well then, you’re expectations are far too high for this blog. Go home, kid. You don't belong here. *shameless plug* check out my new Instagram @dietsanddonuts where I'm documenting everything I eat in an attempt to stop eating so much. Trolls welcome! We gotta get this beach bod cookin.

I’m probably not even supposed to be blogging.

I'm pretty sure if my boss found out I had a blog I'd lose my job. I write for a living... so every letter I type is like gold dust. OK - not really. But I'm being a bit of a shady Shirley.

I have a puppy.

Since my last post, I got a puppy. He's the bloody love of my life and I'll talk about him all day every day if people will listen. It won't be long before he's popping up on the blog, so if you hate cutest-dog-in-the-world stuff, you better keep your distance. 

I get severe writers block.

Sometimes I can sit and thrash out three blog posts in one sitting...sometimes it takes me weeks to finish one. This entry started out as 9 reasons why you shouldn't read my blog - now I've put myself out of my own misery and cut it down to 8 so that we can all move on with our lives.

I hardly ever blog.

Seriously — there’ll be no weekly post or schedule or reason to my posting. It’s like sex. You’ll get it when you get it and you’ll be happy about it, alright?

Did I just call myself sex? Yes, I did.

And why you should?

I'm a voice in your head. You're going to relate to the things I have to say, or the things that I do. I'm going to be completely honest in every sentence I type...for better or for worse.

 And can we address the fact that I haven't even explained why I haven't blogged for months? Mysterious, huh?

 That's me! The unhealthy, unfashionable, disorganised, mysterious sex machine.

(The flat upstairs has been blasting out Westlife's greatest hits the whole time I've been writing this post. We're now on Unbreakable and I've been pushed to my limit. SO MANY KEY CHANGES.)

Thanks for reading! Come back soon.

Not too soon - there will be nothing new for you to read.

Toodles!

Do It Like A Dude

If you could be anyone else for a day - who would you be?

I'd be a dude. Definitely. Any lad in the whoooole world... just for a day.

This was today's little daydream. It's 1.14pm, I've finished my cashew nuts, and I'm contemplating life - with seven Asos tabs open for casual browsing, obv. I found myself looking at Asos Men, and I got to thinking about how I'd dress if I were a bloke. Then I threw in what that bloke would be like, just for a laugh.

The results are below. Hang onto your hats folks - it's about to get weird up in here.

The inoffensive cardi-bloke. 

I'm the strong silent type. I like to make out that I don't know anything about 'fashion', but I know exactly what I'm doing. The crisp white buttoned up shirt to contrast my surfer boy hair, a mardigan (man's cardigan - duh) thrown on top to show you how beefy my shoulders are...

Ladies - this was no accident.

*sigh*

I am man. I have beard. I wear jumper. End of.

I look pretty...sad, right? Probably because my jumper isn't really even that thick. And my ridiculous beard led my girlfriend to dump me. 

Maybe if I'd put more thought into my fashion sense than my facial hair, life would be better.

Probably not. 

Beardy beard beard <3

The logo lad.

I know about fashion, and I want you to know that I know about fashion. But really - I don't know anything about fashion. If it's in the shop window, I've already bought it baby. You like that, huh? Maybe one night I could take you out to dinner, sit across from you wearing this ridiculous sweatshirt, and let you feel inferior to the babe on my chest all night. 

THEN I thought (oh god, she's still thinking) - guy bashing aside - I wonder if they categorize us as ridiculously as I just have, based on what we wear. What would they say about what I'm wearing right now?

Then I remember - when it comes round to a guy, and a guys state of mind - he whole heartedly doesn't give a shit. 

This is why I could, and should, never be a guy. I definitely think too much.

Wait - I take it back. I'd be Zac Efron for a day. I'd be Zac Efron all day. Every day.

What a nifty lil gif-ty.

What kind of bloke would you be?

NEW THINGS.

Birthdays are beautiful things. They bring us together with our families. They bring us cake. And they bring us vouchers. Oohhh boy, do they bring us vouchers...

Here's a little peek at some of the birthday threads I've bought this week - sorry about the vile photography. I toyed with the idea of buying a decent camera a while back, but chose to buy new clothes instead. The day I almost bought an iPhone I was probably distracted by a shoe sale. I hope you can see the pattern here...

Blog world - meet coat. She's a beauty int she? And only £20 from the wondrous sheinside.com! Well worth taking the bash of just fitting in a size L thanks to their tiny Chinese sizing. 

Sweden is an awesome country. Have I ever been? Well, no. But if she keeps hurlin' shoes like this my way for £15 with free p&p... I'm takin that bitch out for margaritas. 

I'm a skirt guy now. Yes I am. Yes I am, yes I am, yes I am. Shout out to Mama Bear or the Zara voucher that brought this beautiful skirt/jumper combo into my life! 

So there you go - that's my haul!

Did I do it right?

Being ladies.

I'm grateful to Emerald Street for a lot of things... mid morning laughs at silly dog photos, discovering new cafes and restaurants, and adding new books to the I-need-to-read-this-oh-wait-I-never-have-time-to-read-anymore list... but for their Two For One Afternoon Tea offer that flagged up in my inbox last week - I send them a big fat HIGH FIVE.

As Mothers Day fell on my birthday this year, I arranged to take my mum out on Monday instead. Living away from my home town, I always enjoy whatever chance I get for a bit of one on one time with her - spoiling her for a change ain't bad either.

Scrubbed up for Mother's Day.

So at a totally unreasonable 9am, we set off to start our day. Before heading into town for lunch, it was a quick stop off at the Beatson for a treatment (the cancer kind, not a mani and pedi kind unfortunately). Being away from home makes me forget sometimes that the cancer thing is still such a big part of mums routine, so in a way it was good for me to go with her to the hospital. 

Rachael, what is this - a post about hospitals or cream cakes and fluffy scones? I know, I know - sorry.

We got to Blythswood Square in Glasgow at 12pm, even though our booking wasn't until half past. I imagine we looked like hungry little puppies skipping up those front steps to the doorman, but he never let on. We walked into the lobby as casually as we could, trying to control our little noses from sniffing out the goods before we'd even reached The Salon.

A facially gifted waiter showed us to our table - sorry - couches, and brought us drinks while we waited for our food. Mum and I shared a few schoolgirl giggles every time he looked in our direction, but he might as well have been a slab of pavement the moment that food came out of the kitchen...

Smoked salmon and cream cheese on sun dried tomato bruschetta

Prosciutto and relish on sun dried tomato bruschetta

 Sandwiches with beef & horseradish, ham & mustard, emmental & pesto

Fruit and plain scones with butter and jam

Mini Cake Selection - strawberry tart, chocolate brownie, lemon drizzle cake, and carrot cake.

Just to be clear - that was EACH. All washed down with a glass of Prosecco and a delicious latte, I was just about ready to curl up on the couch for a nap. I wouldn't even have minded if tasty waiter had joined me.

Blythswood Square was just as lovely as I imagined it. The food was delicious, the staff were really attentive, and my mum really enjoyed herself. I repeat - high five Emerald Street. Thanks for a lovely day out!

Bags and boys.

I don’t even want to get into the topic of balls, or how much time men spend fondling them. But ol’ Carrie was definitely onto something here… I do feel naked without my bag. 

The insecurity that comes with going bag free in public is baffling – especially considering the fact that nothing of any great importance is ever in there. 99% of the time, my bag is essentially made up of makeup that’s not even on my face that day… and a never-ending stock of receipts (Sidenote: I never return anything anyway). But without it, I just feel incomplete. 

Boys do not understand this turmoil.

It’s usually a toss-up between “Why do you need a huge bag – what’s in here?!” and “It’s tiny – what could you possibly fit in here?!” but my answer is always the same – MIND YO’ BUSINESS.

Yes, we may ask you to hold our bag occasionally when we have more important stuff to tend to. But that doesn’t mean that we like knowing the bag is right there, by our side should we need it. Yes, we probably will change our entire outfit in favour of the bag if, when asked “Does this bag go with my outfit?, you hesitate for even a millisecond. And no, we won’t stop our mad bag-lady ways, so quit bugging us about it.

Back off, boys - you're fighting a losing battle. Put it this way - what if we told you that you couldn’t rearrange your bits/heat your mits/grab em in a LAD like manner in public for a whole day? Carnage. It would be utter carnage.

Writings on the wall.

It's 1am on a night out. Drinks have been spilled down my dress, makeup has started sliding down my face, and I've fallen out with everyone except that one girl in the group that I can't usually stand to be around, because "she's the only one who really understands me". Before buying her a drink and planning a summer holiday with her, nature calls and I stagger my way to the toilets.

I breeze into a stall and relieve myself of those seven gins and four jagerbombs. I suddenly find myself in the cubicle of life, pondering all of lives little questions that are sweeping through my brain faster than that last shot at the bar. I feel myself being drawn to the scribblings on the walls, wondering the stories behind them...

I turn and look to my left. Now - generally speaking, Richie is a boys name. I highly doubt that Richie has snuck his way into the ladies lavvy to express his 'eva'-lasting love for Holly on the cubicle wall. Has Holly done this, knowing in her heart of hearts that Richie does and always will love her? Is she a jilted ex who is taking time out of her 'I don't need no man!" bravado to miss him in the safety of the cubicle of life? Let it out Holly... no one can hurt you in here.

I turn to my right, and feel instantly bad for Elaine. Does she really smell like shit? Or is this just the result of a quarrel out on the dancefloor earlier that night? Long gone are the days of song lyrics and phone numbers - we're now choosing to diss while we piss. I'm suddenly suspicious of the use of pen over the popular scratching-into-the-paint method. Who comes out to a nightclub with a Biro? This was not a spontaneous act... Elaine was doomed from the start. I decide there and then not to trust whoever wrote this. Elaine, you probably smell wonderful - I've got your back.

I can't help but wonder if my name is scribbled on the wall somewhere in this world - is someone professing their undying love for me, or stating that I smell like shit? 

The Ex Motto.

I wrote this post a while back, before Bloglovin scooped me up into it's loving arms. Apologies if you've already seen it, but after experiencing my friend almost go through the dreaded ex-meet last weekend, I decided to repost! So here you have it...

The Ex Motto

When it comes to dressing myself in the morning, my motto is simple: kit out like you’re going to run into an ex-boyfriend. Smart or Shallow? Conceited or Insecure? Probably all of the above. But I challenge any single girl to disagree with me! Of course you want to look like the one that got away - but at what cost?

I’m on night shift in a busy bar on the night a local football team has taken home the cup. By the end of the night I find myself sweaty, cranky and stinking of a putrid punch of lager, vodka and jagermeister. Upon my arrival home, I flop down onto the couch and swear to myself I will not, for love nor money, get out of my pyjamas the following day. Yes, I spent the majority of my day lying on the couch. Yes, I made my way through four chick flicks one after the other in a desperate bid to relocate my inner female following eight straight hours of testosterone fuelled singing and banter from the bar the night before. However, in pyjamas I am not. I am in fact fully clothed, hair done with a full face of makeup.

 My justification? That motto. That damn motto.

I’m not alone in this. Take, for example, the unsuspecting girl popping to the shops for a birthday card in her trackie bottoms and hangover hoody after a rather messy night out (this is starting to sound less and less hypothetical…). You think to yourself, ‘I’ll only be out ten minutes, who’s going to see me?’ so head out into the big bad sods law world as you are; a mess. Making it to the shopping centre – success. Grabbing the first card in sight – Success. Not being able to look the cashier in the eye because you know how awful you look – Success. Sort of. 
Walking out the shop and practically bulldozing your ex-boyfriend….absolutely priceless. 

You think back to when you were getting dressed that morning. Back to that moment you couldn’t decide between your sweats, and the tight jeans and ‘I’M OVER YOU’ t-shirt… Why Rachael. Why do you do this to yourself? He looks at you with a sympathetic smile, making a half-arsed attempt to hide his smugness. 

Then, and only then, do you notice the pretty little thing accompanying him. Resist, I repeat, resist urge to punch her right in her cute button nose.

It’s not her fault. She was just following the motto.

Picking an outfit.

Three little words – one huge task.

I have a work night out tomorrow night. I've known about it for weeks, shrugged it off in the past seven days, and felt that now – the day before – was the right time to start planning an outfit.  

I'm suddenly repulsed by everything I own – must buy something new.

Everyone will want a photo taken with me – gotta look goooood.

If I don't get this outfit right, society as a whole is going to shun me.

Oh - none of the above are true? I'm just going to carry on behaving like they are anyway…

As I was trying to explain to a male colleague this morning – 24 hours is a very tight window for arranging the outfit, the back-up outfit and the back-up for the back-up when I come to realise that I hate everything I've already picked. Suddenly, I'm trying to piece together three outfits in a matter of hours, can't find those shoes I was going to wear and I'm breaking out in cold sweats. I'M NOT A SUPERHUMAN.

Even once I've picked the outfits, I'm really only half way there. Take option one, for example: white shirt, leather trousers, black heels. Pretty manageable, right? Then reality hits…

Dream:

Reality:

See where I’m going with this? Even once I’ve found something to wear, my mind is already trying to talk me out of it. It comes down to this – wear the outfit you want but be someone else for the night, or find something mediocre to wear and be the drunken riot that everyone knows and loves! I already know the answer. I’ll give you a hint: it involves gin. But that won’t stop me obsessing over it until the last minute when I’m forced to make a decision and spend the rest of the night regretting it.

Why the overwhelming need to look perfect on a night out? Comments below, please! 

Why I'm a non blogger.

Some of you might wonder why I don't post too many images on my blog. Then again, maybe you don't - but I'ma tell ya why anyway! 

It's because I have a tail. A huge, bushy tail.

Seriously, though!

The beauty of bloggers is that they come in all shapes, sizes, voices, styles...

But I've noticed, while looking at all your lovely photos, that there are a few common factors in my fave blogs...all of which are missing from my life.

A small dog

Whether they're curled up on a bed, snuggled up with you on the couch or out on a walk in the woods, there are loads of these little guys popping up all over the blogosphere and giving me serious puppy envy! For a long time, this little guy was called 'Pinterest puppy' until I found out what breed he was - a dapple dachshund!

Must.have.one.

A decent mobile phone

A phone has never been much more to me than something to call on/text on/use as a ploy when that creepy guy's showing a bit too much interest at the bar.Outside of social media and Bloglovin (sweet, sweet Bloglovin) I'm not much of an app guy either, so my only other request is that the phone has a decent camera. That is - until I got an online deal without testing the phone first. Helloooo 2MP camera! Goodbyyyye decent photos.

A cream bedroom

Oh no. No, no, no, no. Are you serious?! Girls - how do you get through daily life without dropping/scuffing/staining something? 

There's not an inch in my room where I could take a photo without my floordrobe, mounds of makeup, mismatched furniture photobombing. I could only dream of one day having a beautiful, crisp cream bedroom like so many that I spot on your blogs. I'm just not house trained enough to maintain one. 

Such magical tricks and tips should be shared in the comments below. A'thank you.

A tablet/decent laptop

Finally - we come to the machine that makes it all happen. Or not happen, in my case. Remember before flatscreen TVs we had industrial size televisions? I have an industrial laptop. It's old, slow, has never had a sniff of anti-virus software on it in it's life, and weighs more than my car. 
I have started saving for a tablet (thanks to many bloggers' recommendations!) and hope to someday be able to fulfil my dream of writing, editing and publishing a post all in one night. That'd be nifty, wouldn't it? 
So if you don't hear from me for a few days, assume that I'm wrestling this bad boy to the ground.

 

The Liebster Award Post!

Well this is a nifty little thing, isn't it? I was nominated by darbx to take part in the Liebster Award (which I had to Google by the way) - a post to help boost a blog's reputation if you have under 200 followers - thanks Darby!

There are a lot of questions here, so bear with me - but take comfort in knowing that by the end, you'll probably know me better than I know myself. You'll also notice that I pretty much make up my own rules in my answers - 'tell me one thing...': lists a million things. Enjoy!

The rules

·          

·         Make a post about the Leibster Award and thank the blogger who nominated you

·         Write 11 interesting things about yourself

·         Answer the 11 questions created by the blogger who nominated you

·         Nominate 11 other bloggers (who have less than 200 followers) and notify them about the nomination

·         Write 11 new questions for your nominees   

11 facts about me...

1. Sarcasm is my choice of humour, my defence mechanism, my charm and my way of coping with awkward situations. So... it's pretty much 24/7.

2. I've never been able to blow my nose. Yep, seriously. I just gotta put in some serious dabbing time with the tissues.

3. I was vegetarian for two whole years until one Christmas Eve when I caught a whiff of my mum's spaghetti bolognese.

4. I'm suuuper laid back - to a fault, probably!

5. I don't like cats. And I'm not even sorry.

6. I want to be part of the Made In Chelsea cast. The part that's with Proudlock ALL THE TIME. Mmm.

7. I don't eat sliced bread, but I'll chow down on a crusty loaf and a pack of Lurpak til the cows come home/my heart gives out.

8. University gave me two best friends, the love of my life and countless drunken memories. I recommend it for these reasons alone.

9. I am the only middle child I know who doesn't have a complex about it.

10. I'm hungry - and it's still half an hour until lunch time.

11. I will instantly hate and want to change all 11 facts as soon as this post is published.

Questions from darbx...

1. Ant or Dec?

I always had a crush on Dec when I was younger... I'm talking SMTV days though! 

2. What is your one beauty product that you cannot live without?

I'm going through my entire makeup collection in my head right now... umm, I suppose I'd say my Rimmel Stay Matte Mousse Foundation - I don't leave the house without it on! 

3. If you could have one wish, what would it be?

I'd wish for two wishes. I'd use one to wish that I was rich. That probably sounds really shallow, but there are things I want to do and see, people I want to help - and money would let me do that. And a puppy. I wish I had a puppy. 

4. How do you like your popcorn - sweet, salty, buttery, plain?

My favourite is sun dried tomato and Worcester sauce popcorn! But if I had to choose, I'd say sweet.  

5. What is/was your favourite subject in school?

My favourite was Art, until my teacher broke me down and told me I wasn't good enough. In hindsight, I was.

6. Where in the world would you most like to travel?

At the moment it's New York, but I want to go EVERYWHERE.

7. Favourite fragrance?

Chance by Chanel.

8. Your opinion on One Direction...

I'm not too fussed about their music - but Zayn would definitely get one.

9. What is your favourite past time?

I should say blogging - but it's shopping. Has been, is, and will always be... shopping!

10. Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?

I hope to see myself happy, living in another country, continuing to do a job that I love and sharing it with a guy that I love!

11. What is at the top of your bucket list?

To write someone's favourite book.

I nominate:

Smoking Peaches

Beauty H2T

Scotlass 99

Iona Blogs

Ruby Ruby Slippers

Smidge

Fashion Rhapsody

Oyster Girl

The Girl With The Most Cake

All The Buzz

The Little Backpacker

My questions to you!

1. How would you describe your blog?

2. Where is your favourite place in the world?

3. What are you scared of?

4. Who is your favourite blogger?

5. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your days, what would it be?

6. What is your life motto?

7. What does your idea of a perfect future entail?

8. Cosy night in or wild night out?

9. Which piece of advice would you give to your younger self?

10. What are your three makeup must haves?

11. What has been your favourite ever blog post? Add a link!

Okaayyyyy so that's it! I feel like I've aged twenty years since writing this post, but I'm glad I did! 

Good luck to those who have been nominated, and thanks again to Darby!