Frosty Jack's Girl.

Once again I have become slack with my blog. For this I apologize. If it makes you feel any better, which I am sure it will not, I have become as equally slack with my nails. I am currently fobbing off a chipped electric blue as an intentional ombre, a nod  to the blue skies we so desperately seek. A subtle hint, a push in the right direction, a silenced scream of 'GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF BED SUMMER AND MAKE ME LOOK ALIVE AGAIN'. Like fake fur and penciled-in brows, subtlety is key...

A wee while ago I passed over the reigns to you and asked: 'What in heavens name shall I bang on about this week?' You came back in your millions all guns blazing* (*two dedicated blog lurvers came back, qwerty keen).  You asked me to write about the reality of my life in comparison to my immature impressions of what would be.

Well, let me see. I envisaged myself an add on to the Spice Girls, a stand in for Sporty or Scary. I wasn't fussy, all I knew is that I liked leopard print and could kick a ball (the same is true now, just a different kinda balls and a less trashy kinda leopard) thus ('thus' - English graduate problems) I had all the qualities and credentials required to be Team Spice. I could not hold a note but who are we kidding, could Ginger?

All in all, life is exactly as I envisaged. See you next week.

NOT.

I shall not sit here and bore you with endless details about how my life compares to VB and the gang. I hold no comparison. I do not own a fifteen storey house, nor a driver, nor a scantily clad, boxer or briefs hubby with golden balls.

Instead, I shall tell you something I wish someone had once told to me at a pivotal point in my life - going to university. Oooosh, how current of me.

I have no problem in telling you that when I went to University I was inexperienced in many more ways than one. Playing a game of 'I Have Never' was a course in sobriety for me as vodka failed to pass my lips, round after bullshit round. Such in-experiences did not define me but they did, in some twisted manner, embarrass me. I warn you now, I feel as if I am opening a bit of a chapter here, going forward it may be best to read with Kleenex in tow and wine at an arms length away. Just kiddin', 'I'm a strong, independent woman...' etc, etc.

There is one thing I have learnt from endless games of 'I Have Never' however, as time has passed and I have grown up. That is, that people talk a lot of shit. A lot of it. In a Frosty Jack and Squash haze (yes, I was a that girl) I was somewhat impressed by all manner of places people had supposedly done the dirty. In a McDonalds toilet just off the M25, the back seat of a cinema, your parents en suite shower and a red Micra with only one wing mirror - and of course each time was like flying through a lilac sky sprinkled with rainbows on talking unicorns. Magical. Well, I'm calling it. I'm calling it BULLSHIT.

Why do we feel the need to boast about such supposed antics when we are teens? Tell me, because it is not big and it is NOT CLEVER - hash tag, not an innuendo. As far as I was concerned there were parts of me that I refused to loose with a side portion of regret, and if that meant fifty five THOUSAND rounds of 'I Have Never' before diving for a jelly shot then...so be it.

If you have been following my Twitter feed this week you will know what has been getting up in my grrilllll...all twerking, all smirking Miley Cyrus:

19h

Miley Cyrus's new video makes me want to have a bath, join a nunnery and read Jane Austen in buttoned up shirts and lace-up loafers. #ew

I mean, I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind. But, when it is on a public platform in white leggings the probability is that I am going to get the hump. After watching the video three times, I am no wiser as to whether she is selling a track or herself? It is a mash up of giant teddies, gyrating and spanx with an underlying commentary of 'look at me, I may not be Rihanna but this country music gal can get norti, fancy a roll in the hay?'. You may well disagree but, tell me this; When was the precise moment smoke bellowing from your never-regions became attractive?

All in all...take your time y'all, when it all boils down to it it really is not as important as it may seem this solitary second. Instead be young, make mistakes because they are the only way your are ever going to learn. Just remember, sometimes it is okay to stand on your chair and scream "I have never...and I could not give a teeny tiny rats arse'.

Over and out. xx