Yawn

So I've passed my blogging anniversary, and guess what folks? I'm still single. I know it's a cliche, but I honestly couldn't be any less bothered. I have loads of other things to occupy myself, namely my first big persons, real life job, where I get my very own laptop, desk and lots and lots of changes I'm going to get to make. Nice an all as it is covering a maternity leave, I always felt like I had big shoes to fill and had to roll with the flow and not change anything. Now I can say that I want to do something, and suggest changes and because I am young and not taking over from someone, it all seems to go down a treat. Another lovely thing is our CEO. I've been so used to either having completely unapproachable bosses, where walking into their office feeling like you're entering the lions cage (and the lions are hungry and I have an open wound and they can smell the blood), or supervisors who think it's OK to quiz me about my sex life, or the people who I think are normal and could have a chat to, but everyone else in the office has them on a pedestal of unapproachableness that it's such a nice change to work in an environment where there is no hierarchy.
The other things that have been happening with me recently have been boring as ever. Going out and getting ridiculously drunk, shopping, drinking waaay too much coffee, thoroughly enjoying having the house to myself for a week, thinking about how to take over the world and sleeping far too much.
I also got my second tattoo recently. I don't believe in horoscopes, for the simple reason that they are cleverly written and open to interpretation. How can one short phrase be the same for one twelfth of the entire global population? Starsigns and name meanings are a different thing for me entirely. I'm a Pisces and I think the characteristics match my personality - 'The intuition of the Pisces-born is highly evolved. Many people associate Pisces with dreams and secrets, and it's a fair association, since those born under this sign feel comfortable in an illusory world'. Because of this, and the fact that I have a thing about dreams I wanted a tattoo about dreaming. I rarely dream when i'm asleep (or rarely remember them) but I do spend an awful lot of time daydreaming. It took a while, but I found a quote from Amelie, Les temps sont durs pour les reveurs that I fell in love with and struck a nerve with me. So I had it tattooed across my ribs. And it fucking hurt. A lot. But I would go and get it done again.

This is another ranty post about nothing, I keep saying 'oooh, i need to blog about that' but always forget what the post is about when I sit down with my lappy.

There's a package for you Miss Jugalot.

This is what Ollie (housemate) sent in a text to me today. First thought, was wtf is with Miss Jugalot. Second thought, what have I ordered? Has someone gifted me a Mulberry Alexa? Have I ordered something in my sleep with my buddies credit card? (Joys of sorting tickets for people means I often have several sets of card details*). Got home and found a rather large envelope with my full name written on the front in a child's handwriting. It could only mean one thing. The Ex.

I've briefly mentioned him on this blog. Twat number 4. Basically, we met in first year of Uni. We did the same course but he was repeating. We randomly bumped into each other several times throughout the years but it was only when I cut my hair off did he stop and pay attention. Within a few months, we had nicknames for each other, our own silly language, constant private jokes and all the other things couples do. About 8 months into the relationship, I went out with my BFF David. The boyf's pals were all out too, at the same place. David and I get on like dicks sometimes and this particular night, I was celebrating that I'd missed the deadline for my dissertation- silly to go and get drunk, I know, but I handed it in a week late. All good. (Anyone want to know about how the quality of river sediment changes as it flows through an urban environment- I'm yer gal.) So back to the night in question- basically the boyf's pals all thought I was gonna make out with Mitch. Much as I love him, that'd be a little too incestuous for me. But that didn't stop these pals of him telling ma boyf I was making out with another dude. In fact, one of these pals (a chick) of his then went to another of my friends and said I'd tried it on with her. Erm luv, if I was gonna go all lezzer, I'd pick a hawt bird, not someone who looks like Dobby the house Elf.
Dave (the boy) didn't mention anything, came to my house hammered a few nights later. Said he was ditching me coz I cheated on him. I said his friends were wanks and so was he for believing them and promptly chased him out of my house, like a woman possessed. Then I collapsed in a crying, wailing mess and scared the fuck out of Paul.
The ex eventually realised he was a dick and we got back together. All was peachy for another few months till he stopped calling round coz he was at the gym. Or with his pals. Or had to be home by 7 to see his mammy and have dinner (and if he was 5 mins late the world would end). Or he had a new CD to rip onto iTunes. Or he had to dust his skirting boards. So I'd only see him when I went to his house. Which never had any heating. You'd see your breath when you were in bed. Oh, but he was toasty, coz he was surgically attached to a sleeping bag. At all times. Including when we were eating dinner.
I eventually had a moment of clarity when he was buggering off skiing for xmas and not once told me he was gonna miss me. He wasn't even bothered that he wasn't going to see me the entire festive season (like from mid December to the 2nd week of January). He refused to spend NYE with me because I mentioned I *might* be going out for a while with David. So I kicked him to the kerb. Didn't hear anything until my birthday two months later. Cue crying phone call. 'I've been a dick, blah blah. Delayed reaction blah, miss you blah, do anything you want blah blah.' And here's me. Nah pal. You were a wile dick. Too late. Stop calling me. I'm trying to get drunk. Quit ruining my birthday celebrations with your whingeing.

Didn't hear from him again until today. When he sent me this. Closeup of letter page one and page two. I'm glad to get my Planet Earth dvd's back. Almost bought the box set again on many occasions. Jeff, I have a few copies of, but this is the disk from the special edition so it will be returned to it's rightful place asap. I wrote a letter back. I wish him well. He was a dick to me, but he will find some bird who's happy to be low on his list of priorities. Or he'll cut the apron strings and man up. Either way, the letter was funny.

Phew, long post. Sorry for the rant folks. Tried cutting sections of the story out but couldn't do it.

*Please don't try and rob me for the card deets.

It's oh so quiet...

Apparently my blog has been to quiet of late. This is simply because I have nothing to tell. Nothing to see here folks, move along. My reason for blogging was originally peer pressure (wind/wind?!) but the little lightning bolt has struck today and writing is going to be a nice way to clear my head.

Past few weeks have been rather good. After Twestival, Laura and I kept in touch and there are other projects in the pipeline. (Just had deja vu- even to the point where I remember having to go check the spelling of deja vu- brain tumor? Let's hope not). My days have consisted of the occasional box office shift, where generally I leave feeling pretty damn rubbish (office politics when there are so many people coming and going are hard to keep track of) but it funds my nights out and occasional shoe shopping trips. I'm still living in hope that someone will buy me a Mulberry Alexa. 

I spend my days popping out for lunch, coffee, occasional trips to Vicky Square to drool over Alexa and looking for new jobs. If I was getting paid to be a bum- I would have found my dream job. My house has miraculously stayed tidier than I've seen it in a long time, there are always fresh flowers in the kitchen (purple freesia's this week), I come and go as I please, I've started working out again (if you can call 30 mins x-training working out) and I love it. 

There have even been a few boys since I last blogged. Don't get excited. I took my lovely pal Rebecca to Omagh for the weekend. We had planned to do it for my birthday but with both our grandparents passing away in the same week in Feb, her modelling (!!), me working and other nights out planned it took us until April to get it sorted. So we hit the road, in true Thelma and Louise style. Complete with huge sunnies, leather trousers and high heels and headed to Omagh (via Dungannon Tesco- most stressful Tesco i've ever been in).

Night out started well, met my bitches, Ross and David in a bar (both of whom are now completely smitten with Rebecca), had a drink and a natter. I was soon approached by a "gentleman" I went to school with who told me he added me on Facebook because of my boobs. Then after throwing his drunk self across the back of Rebecca's chair, he proceeded to tell me he had won something at a rugby match and asked if I would be so kind as to let him motorboat me (accompanied by an example of how he'd do it). I can honestly say, I have never left a bar so quickly in all my life. I ran for the hills and learnt a valuable lesson. Country boys are idiots. 

After the disaster in Bar 10, Rebecca was understandably freaked out. Until she was being chatted up by a guy in a club who told her that he liked to go sheep tipping. We then found the only hot boys in Omagh in the third place we went to- unfortunately they also turned out to be wanks and spent the whole night making eyes at us before pulling some skanks. Story of ma life. Lopsi see boy, boy see Lopsi, boy makes out with skank. Bad craic. Anyways, thats a bit of a rant about what to expect when you go out in Omagh. 

We made up for a rubbishy night by watching Pineapple Dance Studios and having our faith restored in men by Louie Spence then spending the day having big lolz driving round the KFC drivethru twice, basking in the sun by the river and having my car washed.

Ranty post done. Least there was some man drama in there for y'all.

Awh shucks

So as you all know, last week was Twestival. Laura and I pulled it off and i'm so super proud of us! It came along at a weird time for me, the day I first heard about it was the day my granny died so my head was inside out and upside down so I didn't think about it. Then I found myself with no 'real' job so figured I had nothing to lose by helping with a bit of PR. Things flipped about again when I was given Lead. It scared me more than anything had scared me before. As I got to thinking about it, I realised how much work was involved in an area that I had no experience in whatsoever- I mean, i'm the girl who loves bands, band boys, music and i've even dated a few band boys. But soundchecks, equipment, load in, bookings...that was all completely new to me. The day I met Laura, I had a bit of a flap. Twestival was two weeks away and there was no venue. There were no bands. Right until then, there was just me. Trying to not freak out when I had to stay in mums house alone for a week, running errands, trying to have even half a social life - I spent my evenings on the sofa with Maisie, my cuddly cat (cuddly by nature rather than fat), twittering and blogging about twestival- at that stage I could never have even dreamt about pulling it all together.

When it came to it, there were a few twits who really dug me out of a hole. Laura was literally my right hand woman. We've both probably got RSI from tweeting and texting from mobiles- we spent so long together in Clements I can tell you she prefers her tea in a mug, with a splash of milk. I like a pot, with lots of milk. She's my brownie sharing, life saving queen.

Abi is also a legend. She's the regional co-ordinator for the UK. She got lots of whiney, confused, begging, desperate emails from me, at all times of the day. We did skype calls, pow wow's and she bent over backwards to help us get lots of tickets sold in advance. So thank you Abi!

Leah and Kata were assisted by Karen and Claire from Concern- they let us get on with our thing, checking when pizzas were being delivered, cupcake dramas while they sold raffle tickets and made sure no one snuck in! We had so many sponsors, I'm just gonna link you to the Twestival Blog . Everyone on their was so so helpful and i'm sure our prize winners will be excited at the prospect of their noms, CD's and movie tickets! Our official photographer on the night was the brilliant Nico. He shot some beautiful pics and made me look human (mega kudos to you there good sir- I always look whack in pictures!). Here is his blog with a write up about the night, and here is the link to the photos on his Flikr site.

I can't think of anything else to say, other than- I want a job that allows me to organise events. Or to meet more amazing people. I think if i'd been drinking on Thursday night, every single person in that bar would have got a hug and a kiss from me! I left on a high (in a red van with Joe and Dominic from Seven Summits - thats gonna be my claim to fame when I hear them on't radio ;) ). I've learnt alot from this.
First off- everything is possible. Even if no paying twits had turned up, we had everything else to hand. Seeing one of the guys from Seven Summits walk in with a bass drum I almost died from excitement and adrenaline overload. Then the rest of the band. Then ANOTHER band. And ANOTHER. And the wonderful Nico, the Leah, Kata, Claire, John and Lesley from Slide, Gavin- every time another person showed up I got more and more excited.
Second - The generosity of people shows no bounds. It's more difficult to raise money and support for a charity like Concern, in comparison to something that is more urgent, like the Haiti earthquake appeal but we're expecting our final total for Belfast to be in the region of £500-£600. Not half bad for a nights work.
Third - the Marshmallow Grove cupcakes are officially the way to my heart.
Fourth - A surprising number of foxy boys arrived at Slide. Note to self: make singles wear stickers.
Fifth - If it all goes tits up, i'm robbing a bank and setting up an Events company. I'll even do weddings. If I have to.
Sixth - RAMS' Pocket Radio, Seven Summits and Cutaways are amazing. And Shauna from Silhouette was brilliant. If I get my way, we'll all get a catch up and plan our next joint venture!

I think thats enough now. I'm rambling. Go look at the pics. And listen to the bands.

Latest goings on!

I've been a bit of a bum recently. I'm yet to find a new full time job, so i'm being a waster and just working in the Odyssey a few days a week. To be honest, I bloody love it. I didn't ever have that 'i'm finished uni and i'm going to do mid week drinking sessions and not find a job until I absolutely have to' period so i'm doing it now. I fill my days with long showers, tidying, laundry, This Morning and lots of tea.

I'm also one of the lead organisers for Twestival in Belfast. Basically, it's a charity event to raise money for Concern Worldwide. The cool thing about Twestival is that it's happening globally on March 25th- I just had a conference call with a few other organisers and it's so much more fun having a few people doing the same thing! It's also given me something to do on the days when telly's a bit rubbish!

I heard about Twestival last year when it was happening but wrote it off as a geeky thing. Now that i'm actually organising it, I've seen how non-geeky it is. We've got a few awesome bands lined up, a DJ who sounds like he's gonna be my new BFF (the promise of indie music combined with hip hop is something i'm digging) and a raffle full of prizes i'm actually gutted to have to give away!

It's only a fiver entry, for a night's craic and some board games (how fricking awesome- i'm gonna have a game of guess who and a magners to start the night in style) and it's not just twitter people who are invited!

For more info, and to buy your tickets go to http://www.belfast.twestival.com

What is wrong with them?

I've always said that all boys are idiots, some more than others. In recent weeks, with John Terry, Tiger Woods, Ashley Cole, Howard Donald and the love of my life Mark Owen all fessing up to affairs, my opinions of these boyos has changed. Terry and Tiger- fair enough. I've always thought you pair were ballbags. Ashely, erm, you're married to perhaps the most stunning woman and you cheat on her? You're mental and need psychiatric help, or your eyes testing. Howard, you're such a scamp. But you were my least favourite one in Take That.

Mark though. (Lets note that I am crying real tears at this minute in time). I thought Mark was a lovely boy and if he was going to run away from his lovely wife, it'd to be with me. I can't look at him right now (we just had to turn the DVD off).

But it has taught me a few things. First off, I was right. They are all idiots. Second, it's popped my bubble that I need to date a nice boy. Fuck that. Bring me the bad ones. What's the point in women putting so much effort into finding boys who are nice when even the nice ones fuck a whole host of other birds? Mark's only saving grace is that he stopped banging round him when he got wed.

Happy birthday to me!

I've just noticed that I've started at least three posts now with a greeting of some sort. Wonder what that says about me? Speaking of which, mum picked up a keyring with my name on when she was in Tenerife (you have no idea how hard it is to get things with Lorraine written on them- I really appreciate it when someone finds them for me!). It says 'a name taken from the French region. She is thoughtful, business-like and unpretentious. A straight forward lady; you know where you stand with her'. Today I picked up a copy of the Sunday Times. I like the supplements, so 120 pages of Style goodness sold it to me. And I found this inside- 'Blonde moment', An article written by AA Gill. 'All the associations for blonde were good. Who doesn't like a blonde? The Blonde was fun, liked to eat out, wore high heels and had a dirty laugh. She is witty and intense, quick to take offence and quick to make up. Blondes have opinions, swear and get jokes.' (This is possibly the most random tangent I could have gone on, and it has nothing at all to do with what I originally planned to blog about). Basically, I think at the minute, I'm definitely a blonde. Everyone has a different opinion on my hair colour. Right now, it's the closest it's been to it's natural colour in ages (there is no blonde at the back anymore) but what AA Gill says makes sense to me. I feel like a blonde. I like being blonde. I don't dye my hair to fit in, or be liked, or because of any social connotations that people may attribute with blonde hair. Some of the things he says, like the keyring just suit me. I read it, and I nodded. So, for the minute, I'm staying blonde. We really do have more fun.


So back to my original blog post-
birthday thinkings.
I had such a nice birthday. I didn't do anything. I went for lunch with my mum, I was woken up by my nephew, I sat on the sofa and watched rubbish telly and I eat cake. Of course there was some mayhem too- it wouldn't be a Lopsi birthday if I didn't go out. So the fabulous Rebecca, lovely Lynne and cute little Laura and I hit up Madison's. The ever lovely Dave made us birthday cocktails, which went down a treat! We sailed off on vodka cloud to Sketchy, where we danced and drank the night away (helped of course by birthday drinks from Rigsy - I cursed him something shocking the next day). Anyway, everything was great. Such a fun birthday night, even if I did spend the whole next day dying an absolute death!

Saturday night was Hockey in the S&A with David. After dragging him round town because I was stubborn (and a little unwilling to rush while getting ready) we didn't make reservations but ended up getting squeezed into AM:PM which happens to be one of my favourite restaurants! We headed to Hockey, my feet killing me after all the walking, where I had such an amazing time. The band were phenomenal. I absolutely loved every minute of it. Even David didn't mind going. We finished the night as drunken messes in the Limelight, where I stole a poster off the wall and danced with the band!

All in all, 23 kicked off in style. Nothing awful has happened yet, nothing I would even consider changing, several things I'd do all over again if I was lucky enough to get a second chance.