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Warsaw: Day 1

I cannot believe this.

I’m ill!

On holiday!

I woke up with no voice to speak of (that pun so not funny) and a headache that felt like someone was kickboxing my skull.

Super.

So I wrapped up warm and headed out for breakfast.

Can I just say, the food here is gorgeous.

My breakfast was sweet pancakes filled with cottage cheese.

I think I died and went to heaven.

It was gorgeous.

It was a lovely little café, and it all seemed pretty normal until I looked over at a table on the other side of the room.

There were two men surrounded by glasses, chugging pints of beer like they were thin air.

At 9am!

Strange.

Later on, we were walking down a street and had paused to read a plaque on building. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something moving in a weird, non-linear way.

I turned and saw a man making a (literal) stumbling beeline down the pavement.

Imagine the most overwrought impression of a drunk person you can, then add some. He came about a foot away from taking me out before I had to duck out of the way.

Victim of a liquid breakfast, methinks.

We had a wander through the city, saw what remains of the old ghetto wall and went to the top of the Palace of Culture and Science (tallest building in Poland – the first picture). The views were incredible, though it was a little muggy so we couldn’t see too far.

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Much like!
XX

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Warsaw, Baby!

So, I managed to arrive in one piece (yay!)

Just saying, at Heathrow I saw Bonnie Wright in Boots (played Ginny Weasley in Harry Potter). Crazy.

The flight itself wasn’t bad, apart from two super-rowdy, probably drunk, twentysomething guys sat in front of me who kept putting their seats back really far. And the mega head/earache when we were about to land, but that’s just how it is with flying.

I was pretty sure I was going to die on the taxi ride to the hotel though. The driving is a little bit mad, and I’m not sure some of them know what half of the road markings actually mean, but hey. It’s not as crazy as Hong Kong or Japan, so as long as I don’t get mown down, I’m all good.

It’s beautiful here. I’m staying in the old town and there’s so much gorgeous architecture, all sandy coloured stone and ornate engravings. The weather’s a little nicer than in England, about 18 degrees, and it’s perfect for walking around in.

In other words, I think I may just love it.

By the way, if there happens to be a gif of Dylan O’Brien blowing kisses as the featured image of my last post, that is not me, complete accident, I have no idea why it’s there…

Much like to y’all!
XX

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Ah, I love airports.

Howdy, y’all!

So, right now I’m sitting in a shopping area at Heathrow trying not to stare at a woman wearing the most absurd hat in existence.

Imagine a plain black snapback cap.

Now add pink fluffy trim.

Then add the words “Mummy Swag” in little jewel studs along the front.

As I said, pretty absurd.

This is why I love airports. They attract every kind of person from the farthest reaches of the world and chuck them together in a confined space.

Plus, the place has a feeling of transience about it, where a unique set of people momentarily cross paths in a situation that within itself is so wholly unlikely that it makes the entire instance seem astounding…

That sounds very pseudo-philosophical, but oh well.

Back to people-watching.

A group of Japanese tourists is walking past.

They all have matching hats on, this is glorious.

Okay, what the hell just happened?!

Here I am, minding my own business, and an elderly woman from the Japanese group turns to me and says,

“You are cute white girl! We like cute white girl!”

That said, she snaps a photo of me and scuttles away.

Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

Oh God. I’m sat on those rows of chairs arranged back-to-back with other rows, and there’s a man behind me snoring and his head looks like it is dangerously close to lolling back onto my shoulder.

Please no.

hE’s drOOLING

DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN

Oh no.

No.

NO CRUEL WORLD

NO

DON’T

DO NOT

PLEASEEE

NOOOOOO

oh thank god he woke up.

Crisis averted.

I’m now at outside a Yo! Sushi.

I nearly got run over by one of those buggy things on the way here.

In all fairness, the guy who was driving it looked like he was on a homicidal rampage.

And there was an old guy in the back egging him on, wielding his walking stick like he was some sort of warlord.

Anywhoo.

I’m about to get on a flight to Warsaw, and I have no idea whether I’ll have internet access in the hotel so if I go AWOL for the rest of the week, that’s why.

Also, if anyone has ever been to Warsaw and recommends anything to do in particular, please let me know!

Much like!

XX

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Anecdotes., Uncategorized

Shopping Pandemonium

This was a shopping excursion with me and my mother.

It was bound for chaos from the outset.

We went to Costco (it’s basically a huge warehouse that sells products in bulk to representatives of businesses etc.)

The journey wasn’t exactly harmonious.

The short of it is that we ended up taking a wrong turn, swearing profusely, cutting up three lanes of angry rush hour traffic and getting eyeballed by a creepy businessman at some traffic lights.

Standard.

Okay, at this point I’m going to do a quick blame-shifting exercise: the trolleys at Costco are humungous (you could probably fit two of me in there, for crying out loud) and the back wheels don’t turn side-to-side so you’re basically throwing the thing around a corner and praying you don’t take out a nun or something.

This will be of import later on.

ANYWAY.

We went in and grabbed our complementary coffee/tea (cool, right?) and started to mooch.

On our right, there were flatscreen TVs, games consoles, mobile phones, all the flashy tech you could imagine.

On our left, there was a massive cabinet of expensive jewellery, some with rocks so big they looked fake.

And what did the mother say?

“OH MY GOD. LOOK. THEY HAVE VARIABLE VOLUME STORAGE!” and ran away to basically fangirl over glorified plastic boxes.

So I slid away to look at the books, and was disappointed. Nothing but airport fiction. I did see a pair of gorgeous black Levi’s but they didn’t have my size (me cries.)

Upon meeting up with the motherbird again, we went up to the foodstuffs section, and this is where I renewed my daily tradition of horrifically embarrassing myself.

My first mistake?

I offered to push the trolley.

Bad, bad idea.

So I was trundling along, and we found ourselves in a long stretch of empty aisle.

I don’t know about any of you, but I cannot restrain myself in these situations.

I slowly backed up to the end of the aisle and psyched myself up.

Then, I ran full pelt for a few feet, jumping onto the back of the trolley and flying at hyperspeed down the aisle.

Just before the end I leaped off and pulled the trolley to a halt, giggling like an idiot.

And then I looked behind me.

Three shop employees were staring after me, a mix of confusion and utter bewilderment on their faces.

I just grinned and ran off. Well, as fast as you can run with a trolley laden with enough ground coffee and peanut butter to last a couple of decades.

notevensorry

We carried on having a browse (ducking behind nearby crates when one of the employees materialised who beared witness to my trolley land-speed record) and stocked up on enough everything to survive a few apocalypses and then some.

At one point, I got a little over-zealous with my trolley-handling and I didn’t bother to look when I turned a corner.

I literally came about a centimetre away from full-on mowing down a child. He looked about six and I think I may have inadvertently made him shit his pants.

Oh, did I mention that my evade-making-child-pâté manoeuvre involved off-roading onto an empty crate, almost capsizing my overloaded trolley and nearly T-boning a little old lady carrying an industrial sized pack of napkins?

God.

I managed to get out of the place without killing myself/anyone else thankfully.

The only things I gained from the experience were chicken noodles and an affirmation of my dorkishness.

So yeah.

I’m essentially disaster-on-legs.

At least it makes a good (ish) blog post though.

Eh.

Whatever.

I regret nothing.

 

Izaezel: wreaking havoc on wholesale supermarket chains since 1997

xx


 

Quick sidenotes: I ended up deleting the last post I published (The ‘Proactive’ Summer) because it sounded plain stupid. Sorry for any glitchiness that may have occurred because of that.

Aaaand a superquick THANK-YOU. My follower count has shot up by about 25 in less that two weeks (that may sound pitiful to some of you luminaries of the blogosphere, but it’s all proportional). For me it’s pretty crazy that y’all would want to read my rants/ramblings/the crap that spouts out of my brain, so it means a lot. In other words: you’re marvellous

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Bad First Impressions

Well, that was rude.

You know when you need to describe someone and you can’t remember their name?

You immediately list their most distinctive features, right?

Apparently, a guy was asking my friend who I was.

And how exactly does he describe me?

“That short one with the big, weirdly blue eyes who had all her hair cut off. Y’know, the sarcastic one.”

 

WELL.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND THOUGHTS, CASANOVA, YOU SURE ARE DOWNRIGHT CHARMING I BET YOU’RE A REAL PANTIE-DROPPER WITH THE LADIES, YOU SMOOTH OPERATOR, YOU.

(douchenozzle)

 

Okay, fair enough I am tiny (5’3 and growing, I’ll have you know).

And I didn’t have all my hair cut off (only eleven inches or so…)

But c’mon.

Cut me some slack, I’m not a damn Kardashian.

Eurgh.

 

Boys.

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Birthday Celebrations… Yay Or Nay?

I am faced with a potentially awkward predicament (what am I talking about my whole life is an awkward predicament urgh).

My birthday is next week.

I don’t really like my birthday.

*Cue cries of indignation and disbelief*

I know!

All the pomp and being the centre of attention and being spoiled really isn’t me.

Plus the awkwardness of receiving presents. For some reason I hate possibility that someone would stress out/spend their money on me.

I’m bad at seeming thankful as well. My only marketable talent is that I’m a world-class liar, but whenever I say I like a present, even if I actually do, I don’t sound at all genuine.

I tend to go down one of three routes with my thank-yous:

1.     fakesmile

Stupidly-bad polite smile (usually reserved for distant relatives, grandparents and those of a sensitive/touchy disposition)

2.     sobeautiful

Overly emotional breakdown due to the perfection of the gift — frequently accompanied by blubbing, delirium and visits to the local mental hospital.

3.     heathermorris-freakingout

(My personal favourite) All-out, full-on, no-holds-barred freakout. Expect hyperventilation, smashing surrounding objects and a strong possibility of passing out.

So, besides the gift-related weirdness, why else don’t I like to celebrate the anniversary of my entry into existence?

The P Word.

I’m fine with them when it’s just casual, but when it’s for my birthday I don’t want to disappoint and I feel a load of pressure and…

Wait.

No.

PARTIES.

I AM TALKING ABOUT PARTIES.

you sick people.

GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER.

Dammit.

So, no.

Also, my drunk dancing is HORRENDOUS. I literally channel this gorgeous specimen:

leo-dancing

I.

Am.

A.

Dork.

So, I’m leaning towards a big, fuckoff NAYYYYY right now.

Eurgh, I can’t even think about it *shudder*

MISSJ

 

What do you guys think?

YAY OR NAY?

XX

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A-Level Results Day: The Verdict

Well, fuck.

That was weird.

Le Lowdown:

Went to school with my friend A. We were both feeling trippy. No biggie. She rather suitably had a crewneck on with a huge hand flipping the middle finger.

Appropriate.

Got to school. Officially preparing to die. K.

Went into the hall. They were lined up in envelopes in boxes. It felt like some twisted version of the Hunger Games. Fully expected Effie Trinket to burst out and pound me in the head with one of her wigs or something.

Mental.

Signed off on the register. Got handed my results.

About ready to flip my shit, climb on a table and rugby tackle people I hate.

Or die from heart failure before I could open the results.

Decimated my envelope in the process of trying to get it open.

Looked at the results.

My string of reactions went kind of like this:

brucewillisdoubletake

waitwhat

arnoldshocked

silverliningsyay

I could not fucking believe it.

THREE As AND TWO Bs BITCHESSSSSS!

jEsuS.

Pretty good, seeing as in my exams my brain went into lockdown and quarantined the bits with my intelligence in them. I literally ended up like:

everywordiknow-gif

I felt bad for people who didn’t do as well as they’d hoped though. It’s hard to seem genuine in those situations, and I always feel like I’m doling out fake sympathy and really bad advice. Well, when I last had a bad set of results and people tried to comfort me, I was like,

princess+bride+gif

Kinda.

But anyway.

I SURVIVED A-LEVEL RESULTS DAY!

(and all I got was this crappy blog post)

 

YIPPEE KI-YAY MOTHERFUCKERRRRR!

aceventuradance

XX

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