AmsterDaym Girl

So I went somewhere and did something. 

Yikes Bikes

I went to Amsterdam. And it was beautiful and strange and surprising. 

Amsterdam Square by day

Unsurprisingly there really are a lot of bikes, more bikes that people it would seem. They are everywhere, at all times. But as much as I mithered, my fellow holiday goers refused to hire them. In fact they refused to do anything cultural. Apart from the Anne Frank Museum that is, which was met with the remark "well that was disappointing".

Instead they preferred to spend the days napping, in preparation for the nights. Oh the night time…

If I'd had it my way we would have spent all night drinking cocktails and chatting to the bartender at Cafe Pollux. But this was not enough for the party animals I had unwittingly come on holiday with.

Cafe Pollux

So after shelling out 16 euros, going through a body scanner and being patted down, we entered the club Escape. Self proclaimed as Amsterdam's number one club, hopefully a fitting start to our trip. 

In usual female fashion we headed straight for the toilet. Well we headed for the nearest bouncer to ask for the toilet. So this lovely chap points us down a set of stairs he's stood in front of. Down we go. 

Now the first thing I notice is that it's not just a toilet down here, it's another bar. With a low sofa and wooden table on top of which is a hookah pipe... people are smoking IN THE CLUB. 

Then I notice that the bathroom is awful nice; little mints, free perfume, hairspray, any girl's dream on a night out. So whilst we primped and powdered, in normal toilet fashion we struck up conversation with the other occupants. Sharing combs, passing hairspray, sharing home addresses, as you do. When the woman (who was Romanian but lived in Liverpool) asks us "Where are your wristbands?"

The conversation followed as such….

"Wristbands?"

"Yes, for the VIP"

"The VIP?"

"These are the VIP toilets"

"Oh, no, well, we just asked the bouncers where the toilets were"

"Oh, well then you must come sit with me! We have a table"

-collectively- "Oh alright then, thanks"

Turns out a table cost 650 euros and came with an unlimited amount of Grey Goose. It also seemed to mean we had the pleasure of being able to take an awkward grainy photo with a famous DJ (I have no idea who he is). 

No idea

Sometimes you just get lucky. 

Now Amsterdam is a beautiful city, but by night it becomes a whole new place. It seems to glow somehow, maybe it's the canals or perhaps the perpetually glowing spliffs, whatever it is, it's magical. 

And as we'd leave the apartment at 10pm and come home at 6am, it meant we saw most of the city by dawn. 

Cool, crisp and empty. 

Which gave us plenty of time to take photos like this.

And try to steal a bike (the closest I got them to riding one)

And then spend the next day sleeping until past midday.

All to do the same the next day. 

Wake up, eat...

AMAZING fondue

Sleep, wake up (again) and then out we went.

The head on that.

But this is where the problem was…I wanted to go to a museum. Any museum, any gallery, any building of culture. Somewhere I wasn't offered mushrooms because my skull was the right shape to take them (true story).

This is how I ended up in the Koninklijk Paleis Amsterdam on my own. 

I have submitted a formal letter saying that if the Dutch Royal family ever grow tired of it, I'll gladly take it off their hands. 

And just as I left Amsterdam, I shall leave you...

…with waffles. 

Slacker

Haven't been great with keeping up with this, but I have some new ideas. Some metaphorically rockets to put up this blog's rear end and get it going.

Peace and blessings
Lx

Shout Out To The Shoulders!

Okay, I'll admit it. Recently I've been sad, really sad.
And it wasn't till today that I was okay with not being okay, which led to me feeling okay!

This revelation came after instinctively buying tampons and chocolate. Those were the only things in my basket, and I didn't even realise until I'd got home. The cashier didn't even give me funny looks. That's when it dawned on me. Everyone gets sad, sad enough to buy chocolate and tampons. And often enough for a cashier not to give a crap about it.

Everyone always champions happiness. Happy this, happy that, you must be happy because happy is the only way, HAPPY FEET! You know what, give me a good bout of self-pity and ugly face crying every now and again. This isn't to say that being happy isn't great, but it wouldn't be anything without the shitty bits in-between. No one ever learnt to not touch a hot oven by not doing it. And this can be said with 100% accuracy that no one has ever got over a broken heart by being a constant ball of eye-searing sunshine.

Heartbreak is a funny thing, it happens more than you think. A five-year-old girl loses her favourite toy rabbit somewhere between her last tantrum and the supermarket. To her, this is the greatest loss she has ever known, nothing could have prepared her for this. Of course after the sobs, she will be consoled; there will be a new bunny . But for that moment in time, her heart broke. Snap. And no one thinks she's being ridiculous, childish maybe, but she'll get sympathy. An adult wouldn’t lose a toy rabbit; an adult wouldn’t have one to lose. They’ve moved on the bigger things, bigger worries. Bigger heartbreak!

Of course there are the in-between phases, I don't have a serious job or a committed relationship and certainly wouldn't be classed as an adult. But heartbreak can strike at any time, like an ill advised haircut, lingering for a long time until you've let it grow out go. 

Recently I had my heartbroken by a friend, and was completely blind sighted. And after the customary exchange of expletives and angry texts, and the obligatory cry in the toilets; came the people that didn't mind me being sad. That understood that sometimes the only thing to do is be upset and act like a five-year-old that had just lost her bunny. 

It's my life and I'll cry if I want to, and won't deny when I want to! 

So this is a shout out to sadness, but most importantly those who understand it. The shoulders, arms, bodies, faces of the people who make being sad bearable. Because making it through sadness it the happiest thing of all.

Peace and blessings, Lx 

(My bunny is safely at home in bed with me right now)

For The Love Of

Advanced skills in ranting are something that God has blessed me with. Skills I am proud of. Unsurprisingly this is going to be a rant. Not the kind of ranting that starts off about there being too much violence in the media and ends up about why semi skimmed is the best kind of milk. But a well thought out, somewhat concise rant.

Why are people so bothered about things?

I recently read an article about well known model Cara Delevingne; the long and short of it was that the author was happy that due to a new tattoo Miss Delevingne may no longer get any more modelling jobs. So as a consequence he wouldn't have to put up with her face plastered onto billboards and between the pages of magazines.

My question to him is, why does he care? How can seeing her face make such a difference to his life that he no longer wants her to have a career? It's ludicrous!

We all might have our bug-bears but publishing them in such public forums is just plain mean, and it's not newsworthy. Yet alas, articles like this exist all over the place, it's commonplace for people to write about things that, to be honest, don't really matter. Everyone does it, hell even I've done it. But does that mean it's acceptable?

Further examples of this (genuine 'news' articles):

Harry Styles wears a headband
Rita Ora dresses like a bee
Kylie Jenner eats sushi
Emma Roberts carries a heavy suitcase
Liam Hemsworth looks sad in an airport

How do the people who write these articles not feel an overwhelming bitter sense of disappointment in themselves.

WHEN WILL THIS END

Peace and blessings.x

I'm A Bad Person...

You may have heard of the app 'Tinder', possibly named because it's creators hoped it would help create a spark that would turn into an engulfing fire of romance and passion…

Unfortunately I found it quite the opposite. 

It was incredibly easy to set up, which did worry me slightly especially as it links to your Facebook. Leading me to think of how embarrassed it would be if my Facebook friends knew, I have my great grandma on there!

Once set up it immediately shows you a picture, first name and age of someone and you can swipe left or right, to either reject or accept the person. Then if they also accept you, you are 'matched'. And just to make sure you know it's a good thing you get a little congratulations notification and they then go into your 'matches', giving you the option to start a chat with them. 

My first match started the conversation with "Hi I'm *****, and I like the party", thankfully though it also gives you the option to then block them. 

It's a very weird feeling when you are matched, like you've won at a game or completed a level. And then having to speak to them afterwards is just painful! How genuine can a conversation be if the interaction was the result of swiping one way or another. The conversation is stunted and immature. 

I understand that the app just streamlines and digitises what people do in real life, but it doesn't make it seem any less cold.

That is until a headless man in a dog collar brandishing his penis pops up and you thank your lucky stars that you can only see this over cyberspace and quickly remove it. Although you CANNOT UNSEE IT. As far as I could see there was also no report button which is concerning.

Aiming to spend at least a week on the app, I soldiered through the first few days, checking back regularly but soon the novelty wore off. It just felt like a really shallow game, like pointing at strangers in the street and yelling out a rating from 0-10. Worse than that in fact, because the picture didn't seem like really people. The shame of it also began to grow, so after only 4 days the app was swiftly deleted. The embarrassment was too much, and maybe it's just me that died a little inside when someone nearly caught me on it. 

My main question is, what do the users hope to gain? Their intention isn't clear (except for dog collar man). From my limited experience it seems that the users themselves are pretty unsure as well, but that they for the most part play it like a game. 

It definitely won't be getting downloaded again, and thank goodness it was free!

Peace and blessings.x 

(HAPPY NEW YEAR, mostly to my mum as she is the only one likely to read this)

Weekly Accomplishments

I put my washing in the machine and forgot to add detergent.

Drank too many flavour bombs.

Called and wrote.

Saw a biscuit sellotaped to a lampost.

Stroked a Shire Horse.

And spent some time with the world's ugliest and sweetest cat.

Peace and Blessings. 

I'm A Bad Person...

Now, although I may be partial to a drunken rendition of 'That's what makes you beautiful', I have never been a true fan of One Direction. That was until they released their new album. And now there's no going back, I am…a Directioner.

Only joking! I am yet to be converted, but have stood at the altar and maybe said a few prayers to the current gods of boy-bandary. Obviously I haven't bought the full album because that would be far too uncool…but there are two belting tracks on it. Firstly 'Through The Dark' and then 'Happily'. Tracks that unashamedly reside in my 'Top 25 Most Played'; an honour that rivals a Brit award. I have had a sneaky peruse of the full album, and on the whole it's not bad. In fact, it's pretty darn enjoyable. It doesn't feel like I'm listening to my little sister's CD, but at the same time it is still a guilty pleasure. It's obvious that the band is maturing and that can only be a good thing.

With (what I assume is) their first foray into folk territory the fast-strumming, Mumford & Sons-esque, Lumineers essence really does it for me. Whilst yes, the lyrics are about heartbreak and tweeny-bop love they don't subtract from the quality of the songs. Through The Dark in particular has me singing and foot stomping along, all in the privacy of my own home of course.

And whilst two songs does not a Directioner make, it's a slippery slope, one false move and I may just be sharpie penning my palms with "I <3 1D" whilst simultaneously shipping (whatever that is)

Peace and blessings.

(update, also just discovered that Does He Know? is so Rick Springfield's Jessie's Girl. Which quite frankly is the best song ever)