All I Do Is Win

You know why I haven't been posting anything on here regularly?

I'm happy.

I am so happy right now and almost everything is going right for once.

So let me tell you about my pelvic exam.

Well really, it's the only thing that's going wrong. My body is rejecting itself and being a pain in the arse which has eventually evolved into me being fingered by a tiny birdwoman doctor and prescribed antibiotics that mean I can't drink alcohol for 2 whole weeks.

No alcohol for 2 entire weeks, 14 days. And 14 nights. It's not even like it's just recommended that I don't drink alcohol. If I do, I will make myself violently ill and wishing for death. But even still... I've just learned how to use the emoji things (is that the right word?) on my phone and the red wine glass was my favourite. Now it's followed by a broken heart.

Oh! Speaking of alcohol, I managed to go out in style with what is now my last occasion with wine. SD drove me back to Aberdeen last night. I bloody love a roadtrip. In fact, this is what I'm like on roadtrips (Shrek the Musical 4evs):

I may or may not have sung this multiple times much to SD's annoyance. But he was the one to challenge me to drink an entire bottle of white wine before we got to Perth. So in about an hour. Anything to shut me up about how my insides were falling out. Really, I think he was more interested in getting me to sing -as da youths say - my jam.

My jam is a song that is very roadtrip appropriate. If SD looks like he's tiring at all, I will steer the music away from my 80s playlist (Holding Out For A Hero is our personal fave. Mainly because once I've had wine, I will look at him all lovey and say that he's my hero. Anything to get him to stop madly waving his arms about to the song whilst DRIVING ON A MOTORWAY) and I will play my jam. It is important to recognise that whenever said jam comes on, one must hold ones hands up to shush everyone whilst saying 'dis ma jam, dis ma jam'. It really befits a classic white girl such as myself.

Anyway. Dis ma jam:

I even attempt to rap. Not gonna lie, I think SD fell a little bit in love with me when he first heard it.

And SD himself? Everything's going fucking amazingly. We've got a bit of dysfunctional long distance thing going as he's living in Glasgow at the moment and only has the weekends free. I'm obviously in Aberdeen and only have 2 days during the week free. There's a lot of car rides for him and train journeys for me but we're making it work.

We're going to Paris for 3 days at the end of May. Hold all your romantic horses though. I only asked him as an afterthought... I'm going to hopefully meet up with my new host family for when I legitimately move to Paris in August. This is a thing that is happening. I am going to live in Paris for the foreseeable future. I know. Pinch me now.

Leaving university was the greatest idea I have ever had. That and going to a log cabin for 2 nights with SD. Fo realz. Just look at it:

We played Scrabble in front of the fire. SD discovered how competitive I was. I denied him sex until I won a game. Apparently being an ex-English literature student doesn't mean you're good at Scrabble. He got 56 points in one go. We bought Scrabble when we got home. We each have a game in our respective flats. Bloody love Scrabble.

We were legit in the middle of nowhere (Dalavich on the West Coast of Scotland if you're interested) so the sky got pitch black at night and there's no streetlights for miles so you have no light pollution. We went and stood on the balcony with mojitos (pretending we weren't in the freezing cold) and looked up at the stars. Romantic as fuck thank you very much.

An actual wood burning stove. A real one. We were properly shite at lighting it. I'm just useless and was too busy drinking wine. SD just really wanted to soak a log in Redex and let it do its thing. I eventually let him. We didn't even burn anything down. We did good considering we were in a place made of wood.

So yes, the log cabin was one of my greater ideas. But leaving university is a close second. I am so much happier. I've even forgotten I even went to university. A huge weight has been lifted from my mind and I know I made the right decision. 

And Paris is sorted! Properly actually sorted! I have a job! In Paris! What even?!

So there we go. The reason I haven't been writing on this blog much is because I haven't had anything to complain about. No man dramas or anything. SD makes me so happy. I'm so glad I got drunk and horny one night in November and decided to text the very tall man in the dinosaur onesie from Halloween.

We're planning to go away on a roadtrip round Europe in Summer. We'll just keep going until his car falls apart. Various bits are already falling off it and I'm pretty sure he bribed the MOT guy to make sure it passed. I'm so excited. 

If it weren't for the minor issue of the pelvic exam; everything would be pretty damn amazing right now. And really, that's a very minor issue. 

Why I Ignored Everyone And Dropped Out Of University

I am officially a lady of leisure.

Yep, I ignored everyone's advice and dropped out of university yesterday. I am currently employed 11 hours a week and I have no solid plans for the near or far flung future.

And right now, I'm pretty okay with it.

Don't get me wrong, I'll have a breakdown about whether I made the right decision and what I'm going to do with my life at some point soon. I'm prepared for that. I have prepared everyone else in my life for that. It's fine, we'll work our way through it.

Dropping out of university is scarily easy. You just fill out a form, hand it to the nice Australian lady at the desk and you're done. Bosh. No longer a student. It's quite useful to bring your enormously tall boyfriend with you for moral support and to put up with your incessant 'I've just left uni' mumblings for the next 5 hours.

So why did I do it? Why did I drop out of a free degree that wasn't going to leave me with crippling amounts of student loans? Why did I drop out with no solid plan for what I was going to do next?

Because I was unhappy. I was unhappy with my course and I was unhappy attending uni. I wasn't depressed or anything, let's just clear that one up. I just wasn't cut out for it. And, despite what everyone else said, I thought: why the fuck do something I am unhappy with?

So you know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to move to Paris.

I am going to become an au pair and move to Paris. This isn't set in stone at all as I've only been talking to a couple of potential families for a week or so. But I'm so excited. Paris! I fucking love Paris.

Right I am bloody shattered so I need to go the fuck to sleep. Got a busy day of doing nothing tomorrow. I will write a (vaguely) more coherent post soon.

My Engagement Story

I got engaged on Saturday night.

Okay, admittedly it was fake so we could try and get free drinks but it was magical all the same.

So SD finally came back on Saturday morning and we met up for drinks once I'd finished work. My friend at work and I had come up with an ingenious idea to test out whether tequila gave you a hangover or not. So I had reluctantly agreed to try out the experiment. Which was basically to drink tequila all night. Two tequila shots at 8pm? But of course. However the bartender was so not on board with this. Two tequila shots at 8pm? She was a dick.

Naturally, during the entire course of the night, people were coming up to SD to ask him about his height and my height and get pictures of him. He's used to this - he hates it, but he deals with it so well - whereas it still shocks me a bit. However whilst he was getting photos, I was bonding with the women who wanted them. I'm going to put this out there right now: he is a cougar magnet. They adore him. It's one of the greatest spectacles I've ever witnessed.

This one woman was saying to us what a great couple we made. She then caught sight of my left hand, shrieked a little bit and asked if we were engaged. I usually wear two antique rings on my wedding finger because, although I don't really like wearing anything on said finger, they are just too damn pretty. And they don't fit any other finger.

So obviously, I said yes. I said yes we were engaged. We came up with some whole story about how it happened and how long we'd been together. By this time there were a group of middle aged women clustered around us, wanting to hear about our true love. They eventually dispersed and SD and I got our drinks. Then I turned to him and said, 'do you think if you actually proposed to me, we'd get free drinks?' The possibility of free alcohol? He was all over this plan.

We decided to see how many bars in which he could propose and try and score us free alcohol. We even pinky promised on it and everything. So we made our way to Vodka Rev. We got some drinks at the bar and then SD told me to wait there for a moment and he disappeared into the crowd. When he came back, he wouldn't tell me where he'd been and we walked over to a table. I had already given him one of the rings from my wedding finger - the most engagement-y one - and had put the other in my pocket. Then all of a sudden, the music died down.

As the DJ turned the music off, SD got down off his chair and bent down onto one knee. There was a crowd gathering around us. Girls were starting to squeal. People were taking pictures. And then he asked me to marry him. I said yes, he put the ring on my finger, we kissed and everyone cheered. It was the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened. It was bloody brilliant. I spent the next 20 minutes talking wedding plans with a girl on her hen party and was hugged by countless other girls.

And yep, we got our free (v posh) sparkling wine. All in the bucket with ice and everything.

Once we'd gotten drunk enough, we went to one of da clubs and managed to get free VIP entry because we were newly engaged. SD had even had someone take a video on his phone of the proposal as proof. I'll have to get him to send it to me. I mean, it was the most magical moment of my life, I need to have evidence it happened.



In other news, my boyfriend's pretty damn awesome.

Why Right Now At University Kinda Fucking Sucks

Now I wouldn't call this drunk blogging as such... Maybe we'll just stick with tipsy. Does an entire bottle of wine and an oddly delicious mixture of tequila (obvs), peach schnapps and apple and raspberry juice count as tipsy? We'll work with what we've got.

Here's the honest to God, actual, true as fuck deal. I have literally no idea what is going on in my life right now. So I am going to ramble at you. Bear with.

So I mentioned in my last post (possibly, who can be fucked checking?) that I wasn't sure about university. I am studying English literature and it's just not right for me. To put it mildly. I cannot think the way they want me to think. To put it simply; right now, I have more of a mathematic brain than a literature brain. At this current moment in time, I am much more suited to the way of thinking that involves rights and wrongs. I am not down with theological essays debating the merits of Frankenstein.

But this never used to be the case! I was always fucking awesome at English. English was my thing. I was going to successfully move out of a small town and go to university and be the greatest thing that had ever come out of my said small town. That was what I was kinda destined to be. Ish. So maybe not the greatest thing. Just a thing that didn't stay in the small town and get pregnant by whatever small town boy I went to high school with. I mean, seriously. It is utterly ridiculous the amount of pregnancies that have occurred in my hometown at my age. About 10% of my year got pregnant at around 17. That's about 20 girls. In a town of 8,000 that's a hell of a lot. This is why I'm so pleased I got out of there.

But now I'm in Aberdeen. I'm at university like I was supposed to be. I'm halfway through my 2nd year. And it fucking sucks. Because I have lost all motivation and general interest in my course. I do not want to be at university right now.

I think of it like... You're in a job that you hate for another 2 years. And you know you can leave this job and find another one in a completely different career. You know it's not the most sensible thing to do; leave your job for another uncertain job but it's what will make you happy.

I cried non stop for about 3 hours tonight as I was stressing like I have never stressed before over university and my future. My mother wants me to stay on and do one more year so I can come out with a degree. It makes sense. That is the sensible thing to do. Nowadays, employers look for degrees, regardless of what they're in. But the idea of even one more year at university terrifies me. Right now, I hate university. I have absolutely no interest in staying but I thought that yes, the sensible thing to do would be to continue on and do my 3rd year.

But I cannot bear that thought right now. I honestly cannot bear the thought of even staying on an extra week. I do not want to stay at something that makes me unhappy. I feel I am young enough (and able enough) to make the decision to not continue something that makes me unhappy. And I honestly am unhappy. I am not the type of person to get stressed about something. But I have been so unbelievably stressed these past few weeks that I don't know how much longer I can handle it for.

If you asked me honestly where I'd like to be right now, I would tell you: Paris. Paris is where I would like to be right now. I have been to Paris once and I fell in love with it. I could see myself living there. My friends could see me living there. And hopefully my family could see me living there too. I would love to have a tiny garret apartment up by the Moulin Rouge. I would love to be able to take picnics by the Eiffel Tower. I would love to wander through the antique markets and stop off to see the view at the Sacre Coeur. I feel that Paris is kind of a part of me. Is that very weird and white girl of me? I don't think so. I think it feels like home.

So I would, quite frankly, like nothing more than to leave university right now. To work in Aberdeen for a year and a half and save up some money. To become... I don't know... An au pair in Paris. Yes, these are very romantic dreams at the moment. I know I haven't yet thought through the logistics. But if it's something that would make me happy, then isn't it worth it?

And Mum, I know it's not the sensible thing to do. But if I have to stay another year at university, I think I will go utterly insane. I will lose what little sense of self I have left. I always told you to let me make my own mistakes and I am very much aware that this could be a huge mistake. But I am sensible. And I could deal with the consequences. And right now, I would much prefer to be happy than crying my eyes out alone at the kitchen table.

Also, SD? He is perfect. He has been perfect. He is just... I don't even know. He's the real deal. I can envision a proper, legitimate future with this man. I could honestly, at some point in the very near future, be in love with this man. Right now, he is keeping me sane. I have never felt like this before but it feels so right and natural. And he will be back onshore in approximately 24 hours. I cannot fucking wait.

What do you think? Do you think I should be sensible? Or should I think that life is fucking short and I should damn well live it? Or am I being a complete idiot in every single way? I need your help... Please help.

In Other News

Today has already started off to be a rather bloody good day. So, instead of writing my essay, I'm going to make you read shit. And then I'll start my essay. 

In other news, I think SD is my soulmate. Why? Because we both secretly (not so secretly now) watch Air Crash Investigation and find it the most incredible programme ever. If that's not soulmate material, I don't know what is.

I dig him. He romances so good.

Aberdeen was looking rather marvellous the other day when it wasn't grey and miserable. This was when I was being a lonely wifey before the dog turned up.

#nofilter. That's what the thing is right? Also SD is on one of those teeny tiny boats. Which are not so teeny tiny close up. Obviously. Also I filtered the fuck out of this picture on my Instagram... I am utterly shit at Instagram but I try. Also I do not understand hashtags for the life of me,

My flatmate baked biscuits the other day. I feel that one of the reasons I live with her is for her baking. Also the fact that she buys me wine. Anyway, she made a biscuit in the shape of a boat. And drew a tiny icing dinosaur on it. Just for me.

Yaaaasss good quality photos. But fo realz. It's SD on his boat. Come ON. 

And finally, because I really need to start essay writing, I was an awesome flatmate and took all the bins out this morning. Also I was an awesome adult because I actually remembered when the bins were getting collected. I picked out the first pair of shoes I found because I wasn't going out to the bin in bare feet and unwittingly turned into a fashion blogger.

I think you'll find that all good fashion bloggers pose with their bins. Also if anyone's interested, these are my Emergency Summer Wedding Heels. I found them on sale for £5 a few months ago and obviously bought them because you never know when you might be invited to a summer wedding. I have never been to a summer wedding and nor shall I in the foreseeable near future. But that doesn't matter because when I do get an invite, I will already have my shoes. So if anyone is going to a summer wedding and needs a date... I am very much prepared.

Now fuck off and let me do my essay.