Monday, 15 June 2015

Goodnight, Sweet Prince.

Okay I'm just going to get straight into it today...  So the story I'm going to tell you is a love story.  There was a boy.  There was a girl.  When they first met it was an unrequited love in that she liked him but he didn't seem to feel the same way and then over time her feelings fizzled.  This story however was building up to one significant event like the ship hitting the iceberg in Titanic.  The iceberg of this story was diabetes.  Our leading man got a bad case of the diabetes and this must have put everything into perspective for him because he was able to show his true feelings for our leading lady after the diagnosis.  Things really escalated after the medical diagnosis had planted the seeds of love for them, the love began to blossom and bloom and grow.  Before long there love had reached the maximum level that love could reach and then in a sudden twist of fate our leading man was involved in a hit and run and killed.

Our last Christmas together
This is the story of myself and Harvey, the love of my life (and I'm afraid I may never love again).  So I've already told you all about Harvey before and if you haven't read these posts you should check them out so you know Harvey's full story.  Harvey was more Blair Waldorf at her Yale interview than Serena Van Der Woodsen at hers, he definitley looked more Darth Vadar than Sunshine Barbie.  Our relationship started out with me telling him that when the shipped docked in New York I was going to get off with him and he replied "nah man don't" he didn't wan't to teach me how to spit like a man or ride like a man or chew tobacco like a man... In fact I don't think he even really wanted me to get off of the plane - even if there really was a problem with he left phalange.  One day
Harvey looked a little off, and then a lot of off and then it was time to take him to the vet who
When the love hits you
so hard
diagnosed him with diabetes.  After this Harvey just changed so much.  I think that it may have been because I had saved his life and he was eternally grateful but he also stopped packing his angry eyes and just lived a much happier life after that day.  I began to love Harvey so much and I knew the feeling was most definitely mutual, the mere thought of Harvey made me want to burst into tears because I was overwhelmed with how much I loved this cat, I would pick him up and cradle him like a baby and we would dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light all the time.  The thought of having to provide a fun fact about myself during 'ice breaker' situations no longer terrified me because I could always just say "I have a diabetic cat who we have to inject with insulin twice a day!".  It's so strange that all of this is now gone.  I had always thought that we would go out together Romeo and Juliet style #MurderSuicide.  It will be strange not having anyone march into the living room meowing loudly to announce their presence every morning when I'm at home; it will be weird not having anyone to carry around the house pretending to be my baby and who will be my dance partner when a slow Taylor Swift song comes on!?  

Some fun facts about Harvey:
1. Once he snuck into the car when my mum was going on holiday up north and she had driven for about 10 minutes before Harvey announced his presence with a loud meow and she had to turn around and drop him back at the house #ClassicHarvey
2. He once bit one of my friends mothers when she was petting him, she acted cool but you could tell she wasn't happy #ClassicHarvey
3. He once tried to jump up onto the windowsill while he was outside, he didn't quite make it though and he hit into the window then recreated the scene from The Lion King when Mufasa was hanging off of the ledge #ClassicHarvey
4. Harvey used to be called Harley with his old owners because he purred so loudly it reminded them of a Harley Davidson motorbike #ClassicHarvey
5. Harvey would drool all over me when he was sleeping/purring on my lap and I found out that the drool was caused by an overload of happiness #ClassicHarvey

Handsome young man

So Harvey we had a great time together; a real sad, beautiful, tragic love affair.  You were a legend, the king of cats, our fearless leader!  I will continue to spread the word of Harvey to the masses and make sure your memory lives on in the minds of others as much as you will live on in my heart.  I love you, I miss you, I'll see you again soon - unless they send diabetics to a different place to the medically fit in which case I'll get Charlotte the lifeguard or one of the other famous diabetics to love and mother you like I used to!

xoxo
Queen G.

Rest in peace to the love of my life.


Wednesday, 3 June 2015

A Periodical Look At Our Night Outs

Yo, so my friends and I are rated at about a 9/10 on the 'how basic are you?' scale and our nights out never fail to be a stereotypical, white girl wasted blur.  I, as an influential and popular blogger (4 followers and counting) know the importance of giving the people what they want and what they want is to know what a night out on the town with me is like! 
3 more than B has...

I'm getting drunk tonight
Wake up: Flawless
Ok so on the morning of a night out I wake up, today is the day!  The sun is shining, the tank is clean the tank is clean?!!. Basically from the suns first ray right up until about 4pm I am just trying to pass the time until it is acceptable to start poppin bottles in the ice like a blizzard.



MacdonNOlds
If I'm not sufficiently fed before I start drinking
so roll on 4-5pm and i'll be chowing down on an either too large or too little sized bowl of pasta (I just never could get those pasta measurements right).  I'd like to say I was trying to fill my stomach in order to slow down the pace at which I got drunk because I am a sensible young lady but in reality I'm eating in hopes of deterring the 03.00am MacDonalds cravings.  Not eating pasta before a night out forces me to do something I reaaaaly don't want to do and my diet will be ruined!

"Are you here to make me look pretty?"
2/10 on the cuteness scale
Now it's time to recreate the scene from The Hunger Games when Cinna and the prep team give Katniss a makeover, except I have no Cinna, I have no prep team, I am not Katniss and nobody is coming to make me look pretty - you don't have any friends! Nobody likes you! I attempt to curl my hair but just get annoyed when one side doesn't curl as well as the other, then I try to even out the curls, realise that the curls will all fall out about an hour into the dancing anyway and then move on to make up.  Throw on some make up, some clothes, pack my bag, get my shoes on and then step out into the hall.  
Life advice:  Do not under any circumstances do your make up when you're drunk.  I've been there my friends and it's not pretty!
"Is my make up even?"










Pre drinks 
More like one bottle of vodka
This is the part of the night when we get really really drunk because we're too poor at actually purchase a decent amount of alcohol when we're out.  B and I often make a fun 'punch' which usually consists of half a litre of vodka, some peach schnapps and then a fun splash of fruit juice - fun fact:  turns out I'm not as big a mango fan as I first imagined.  


Ali always knows whats up
So after a glass of our famous magic punch we are as merry as the merry men from Shrek - maybe even merrier!  This can only mean one thing: Karaoke!  If you come to one of our karaoke parties you will hear wonderful renditions of all the classics, for instance: Promiscuous Girl, Don't Dream It's Over (Ariana Grande and Miley Cyrus cover of course), Edel Weiss (sung in a round) and Moon River #Classic. Another cup of punch down the hatch and this is when we decided that either through the art of a good old drinking game or just in a plain old fashioned 'sharing is caring' kind of way it's time to reveal all of our hopes, dreams, fears and secrets #HurricaneGloriaDidn'tBreakThePorchSwingMonicaDid.  Basically by the end of pre drinks we are so drunk we can't even tell if we are white with black stripes or black with white stripes.

To the clubbbb
Getting turnt up in the taxi
The taxi arrives and we leave the flat ditching the 'Ohana is family and family means nobody gets left behind' motto because is you aren't there when the taxi arrives then you're walking.  The taxi often goes something like this, "what is your fake name tonight? *all hands in to the middle* never forget the topping on your pizza *raise hands into the air whilst shouting out your fave pizza toppings* I love this song! Taxi driver can you turn this song up!? *everyone shout sings the song over one another!* wait who is paying for this?  If you pay I'l buy the first round of drinks!"

Up in da club
Name and date of birth?
So we manage to pull ourselves together long enough to hand over our ID's to the bouncer, resit the urge to use a fake name when they ask and pay the entry fee. Then it's straight to the bar to top up our blood alcohol levels before a night of dance battles, sword fighting, turning tricks and fucking shit up.  A tequila shot for one, a tequila shot for all.  


One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor
Straight to the dance floor and then song request tactics are discussed:  If you ask for Taylor Swift then I'll ask for Ariana Grande and who is asking for Mmmm Whatcha Say by Jason Derulo?  Because I can feel it, tonight is the night they'll finally play it!  
We put in our song requests and then immediately retreat to the toilets for a quick urination, throwing up and crying session - and maybe even a little magic.  We miss all of our song requests.
You're my best friends I'm so happy right now
Return to the dance floor and there is A LOT of hugging and an infinite amount of declarations of "I love you so much!".  Sometimes the hugs are so passion filled that they take us off of our feet.  Sometimes the love is so overwhelming the only logical thing to do is for B and L to life me up into the air Bar Mitzvah style...

Anyway, here's Wonderwall

Couldn't have said it better myself Julie
Next we head to the rock room - which someone recently told me was actually the cheesy music room but I think that statement is all a but controversial.  I go up to the DJ and request the first rock song I can think of: Can you play some Taylor Momsen!?  We go and dance and then I return to the DJ;
Me: Can you play some Taylor Momsen?
DJ: I just played her
Me: Can you play some Queen?
DJ: You just danced to Taylor Momsen and Queen, how drunk are you!?
Me: Ok I'll take All The Small Things, that's my final offer

Helloooooo Is there anybody alive out there?
We've been waiting for you
We all get split up and while some of us search high and low for our friends tohers decide just to leave the club.  Usually this person is B, slipping out unnoticed to partake in a fun solo adventure wandering the streets intoxicated, cold, under dressed... 10/10 on the safety scale.  Once B and I left together and we went back to the flat and sat in our flatmate's room waiting for her to return.  It took too long so we sprinkled some popcorn on her bed and wrote her name on the door in peanut butter (we are such good friends!)

Casiyes or Casino/Pizza *insert antonym for paradise*
Never forget the toppings on your pizza
Sometimes the night ends magically with a trip to the casino, they do the best chicken burgers and you meet the most wonderful people.  

Otherwise we visit Pizza Paradise and spend at least £10 each on disgusting, under-cooked frozen pizzas...  That is the Edinburgh way after all.  Fun fact: I once drunkenly text my flatmate saying "New phone who dis?" from Pizza Paradise.

Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey
And this little pig went weee weeee weeee all
the way home
Often one of the best parts of the night is the walk home. A taxi is tempting because the journey home requires us to endure blistering winds and scorching deserts and then we have to climb to the highest bloody room in the tallest bloody tower (and then we find a gender confused wolf who tells us that our princess is already married #ugh #soannoying #theworst # waaaaat?).  However the walk home is the perfect opportunity for impromptu photoshoots on the street, the perfect setting for a fun new music video and the perfect time to make new friends.  From time to time L will run home because that's more fun than walking but I can't join her because I have asthma - and I'm afraid that if I run I'll miss the bush shaped like Shirley Bassey.  Regardless of the pace of our return to the flat nobody can deny that it certainly is one hell of a journey.  

Near far wherever you are
shhhhh everyones in bed
When L and I get home we always have a fun sleepover so we can watch Titanic together.  We tiptoe quite as a mouse around the flat as we get ready for bed so as not to disturb anyone and then start the film.  L gets real deep about how the ship is sinking down below them and the water that once kept the ship afloat ultimately led to it's demise... There are tears over how beautiful Jack is and applause over Rose's ability to see past the shallow world in which she was raised.   I think Titanic is a metaphor for our friendship. It will live on through everything and we will go down with this ship, we wont put our hands up and surrender #dido




The moral of the story is raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens are a few of my favourite things.


Oh Elizabeth



Caz is white girl wasted
Xoxo 
Queen G