Confidence can lead to a shag.

Our three day British summer has come and gone, the remains of my summer glow is slowly fading and I feel fucking fantastic. So my tan may have faded a little, but my post-British summer positive mental attitude is very much still intact. Funnily enough, the glow on my face made me confident which made me more attractive to boys. What are the chances? Who'd have known that all I needed was a bit of self-confidence and a smile to get more boys gathered around me like blind lesbians at the fish mongers. I am now (relatively) the 'Catch of the Day'.

Even though I am still nineteen years old, I have decided to rediscover my freshers youth. I had a bit of a dry spell when it came to going out clubbing as I would have much rathered staying in my little halls of residence room with a bottle of red wine and Netflix. I always got fucked up whenever I went out which would ruin my sleeping pattern until the next time I went out, which would repeat the process. So, I went a bit anti-student and had a little party detox, bar a couple of trips to G-A-Y, because no-one can say no to £1.70 a drink.

But I am still a teenager for one more year so I decided to act like it. When the sun came out, the alcohol cravings began. I got all my friends together and decided to get absolutely fucked. Living in London, I have no fucking idea what to do when a spontaneous alcoholic outing occurs. I find myself googling things like 'best student nights out in London' or 'the best gay nightclubs in London' and go from there. Even though this occasionally works sometimes, we usually end up in a familiar place where we always go. But this night was different.

"You know it's a straight club, right?" my friend asked. "Perfect," I replied. During this point in my life (a whole three weeks ago), I was going through this awkward relationship with someone and didn't know what to do. I wanted to go out and dance, not find a fuck, considering for the past couple of months before hand, I had retired my dancing shoes.

Drinking my bottle of Blossom Hill Pinot grigio rosé in my new black skinny jeans on the tube, I had never felt more excited/clASSy to get off my face. I had a summer glow and a new outfit causing me to walk into this night club like Roxxxy Andrews walking into the work space on RuPaul's Drag Race series five. I felt good, I was smiling and I wasn't even thinking about the end of night McDonald's, which is usually always on my mind.

Even though I promised myself to stay away from guys, the moment I walked into this club I noticed the cutest boy, around my age ordering a drink. About four hours later he was taking me home on the night bus. This usually never happens to me, and if it does, I usually blame it on the other person feeling sorry for my friends because I used to get too drunk. We didn't have sex, but we could of. In fact, with this relationship I'm currently in going a bit tits up, now I wish I did have a joint party in our pants.

The moral to this overly-long blog post is to have fun, feel confident and smile whenever jizz is involved. Being cute is a way of being (I'm being sarcastic, do whatever you want).

Thoughts on Thatcher

Former British PM Margaret Thatcher passed away yesterday after a stroke. I have always had an adoration for this woman as well as a gut hate. She brought hope and aspiration to many girls and women, who were told to look after the home and make sure the paper was on the desk, that dreams can come true. You can be the Prime Minister. On the other hand, she was seen as unfair to the poor and industrial industries of the UK, she got rid of child benefits, and even though I think she dealt with situations the wrong way by doing too much too fast. What she did had to happen eventually, and we can see with the current government that her methods are being repeated to help the economy, for example, the bedroom tax. Thatcherism may not be popular, but some people see it as an affective way to sort things out.

Coming from an industrial town myself, I understand why people are happy about her death. Everyone is proud of where they come from and an industry can represent a community. But I don't think that her death should be celebrated. This woman shaped our country and without Thatcher, I believe gender roles would of taken a whole lot longer to break. Men would be men, and women would be women. Do we want all me to dominate the industrial and business industries and women to stay at home. Even though she wasn't really a feminist, she did a whole lot for women. She set the bar for doing whatever the fuck you want because that's what you want to fucking do.

Even though a lot of people haven't forgiven Thatcher and I completely understand why. Yesterday was a sad day for Britain. We lost our first and only female Prime Minister. One in five MP's are female, which too me and a lot of people is ridiculously low, and a whole lot of them think Margaret Thatcher set the bar for females in politics.

I'm very sorry for getting all serious on your asses but I promise I'll start talking about One Direction's crotches very soon.

Wankr's on Grindr

Grindr is described as a location-based dating app for gay men, so basically it's a hookup/one night stand/dick pic app. There are over five million users worldwide who spend, on average, ninety minutes of their day browsing through profiles of other gay men who'd like to chat, meet or blow. To most gay men with the app it's a serendipity, but to me it's a nightmare.

Most gays think I'm stupid for hating Grindr, but it's just a glorified orgy. Not to mention it's full of pricks that are so picky in who they want to meet, it makes me want to vomit. Pretentious knobheads using the over-used phrase, 'no fems, no fats, no Asians'. Don't get me wrong, it can be great if you're single and want to find a potential dating partner, and I'm sure a lot of people have found love through the app and whatever. Unfortunately, the majority of people on there are looking for sex, and it creeps me out.

Curiosity has made me download this app so many times, shortly followed by me deleting it. When I decided to talk about Grindr on here I downloaded it and decided to open it in the heart of London's gay town. It took me sixty seconds to get someone's location to meet and have sexy time with (of course I didn't go). Me and my friend were scrolling through the profiles, sitting in SOHO Coffee Co. and saw taglines saying things like 'twink free zone', 'no fatties' and (my personal favourite) 'If your wrist is broken, don't even bother'. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd much rather go to a club and pull an absolute munter, than be a twat and have sex with a stranger that meets my tastes.

In my opinion, it gives gay men a bad name. Sex obsessed and happy enough to send a picture of their dong to a stranger. Of course I would never judge a person who meets for sex through the app, it's your life, and I know a lot of lovely people who use the app to find dates, or even just to chat. But it's not my cup of tea, although it is currently downloaded on my iPod. I guess it's just a source of entertainment for me. Here are some screenshots of some funny Grindr conversations about blow jobs.

West End Weekend.

My lovely mother came to visit me last week, and when people come to visit me I become this raging tourist. On any other weekend, I would find eating a cheese and pickle sandwich on Piccadilly Circus a bit of a nightmare. But a relative is down, so it is a form of forced fun/torture. We went to see two shows, which were very different. I'm about to express my thoughts on both which I'm sure you'll find highly entertaining, *Sarcastic laughter*.

The first show I went to see was 'Billy Elliot' and it was fucking phenomenal. I went to see it 6 years ago, and it was the musical that got me interested in musical theater. If it wasn't for this musical, I probably would of thought Les Misérables was a bit shit. I am not shamed in saying that I cried a lot during this musical. I'm not sure why, but recently I've become this huge cry baby, or as some might say, a pussy. The show has the same story line as the film, so if you haven't seen the film (shame on you), here is a brief plot summary. The show is about a young gay boy who's not gay, but his friend is, growing up in a mining community in the North East of England during the 1980, when good old Margaret Thatcher (sarcasm) decided to take on the miners' union, and won. Which actually had a huge impact on UK politics, society and culture. The boy's name is Billy, and he wants to be a ballet dancer, but his 'lad dad' (good phrase, isn't it?) isn't happy with this, and needs to come to terms with Billy's talent. I won't go any further as I don't want to ruin it.

The songs in the show are pretty good, but not as good as other musicals like Les Mis or Wicked. It's the plot and the visuals which stood out the most during the performance. The use of contrast in this musical is amazing, with little ballet dancers and protesting miners singing about solidarity will certainly leave you in this goosebump/sobbing state, which will stay with you for at least another week. At one point I ran to the toilet, and came back to a giant effigy of Margaret Thatcher, maybe 20 or 30 feet tall. Underneath all that was about a dozen human-sized Margaret Thatchers. I thought I fell asleep during my piss and wondered into this, what surely had to be, the worst nightmare of my life. But it wasn't. Then it sunk in. I laughed.

Before I move on to the next show, I would just like to say that Billy's grandmother is a fucking legend. Oh, and I highly recommend this show. It's probably my favourite musical that I've seen (and I've seen a fair few).

Right. Oh God. The next show I went to see was Viva Forever. Like many a child of the 90s, my awkward years of being a confused, knob-head of a child were dominated by the Spice Girls, who probably defined my ongoing love affair with pop music. I heard the reviews were mixed by the fans and negative by journalists, but I did not let this get to me. In fact I was so excited about going to see Viva Forever that I had about 6 drinks before curtain-call. I was excited, optimistic and absolutely plastered. This certainly worked to my advantage, because looking back at the show, it was pretty crap, but I had a marvelous time. Never have I ever seen a theater so full of drunk people, that got up to dance at every opportunity possible.


The plot focuses on this girl named Viva who was in a girl band that was forced to split-up during an X-Factor-like show, leaving her on her own, trying to find herself, etc, etc. You can certainly tell that the musical is written by Jennifer Saunders, with a blatant Ab Fab consciousness, and in some ways, this makes the musical a bit better. Anyway I have mixed feelings about this musical and most of them are negative, so I'm going to make a bullet pointed list of what I learnt during this survival camp musical.

• Musicals about being famous are as ridiculous/shit as they sound.
• Props that appear from no-where and revolving things are always cool, but don't make the musical any better.
• 'Headlines' is still shit.
• 'Viva Forever' should never be tampered with, especially when it's a Spanish man with an acoustic guitar that's doing it.
• Thongs are always funny.
• 'Too Much' has always been a song about pubes after all.

That is it! I give Viva Forever a 4 out of 10 stilettos, and wouldn't really recommend it to anyone unless you are the worlds biggest Spice Girls fan and/or are absolutely wasted and want a good night out with your girls.

Love, dating and my sad, pathetic life.

For those who are new to this blog. Hello. I'm Jack. I'm 18 and I'm married to Shannen Doherty from the original Beverly Hills, 90210 with three kids. Well, this is not strictly true, although the essay I wrote when I was ten predicted I'd be married to a woman by 21, have a son at 24 and twin girls by the time I'm 30. Alas, I am a gay dude who's Facebook relationship status is single, and I have two years to find and marry Shannen Doherty.

Despite my desperation to find Zayn Malik, I've only ever had two gay relationships. One ended before coming to university last Summer, and the other with vodka (we're on a break, after what I can only describe as the worst hangover ever, sent from Hell) (I assume vodka is a boy, because it's so damn delicious). Because of my break-up with a boy I thought I'd be with for a long time ended, my bed has become my loving husband, and Netflix my harsh dominatrix of a mistress, demanding I devote all my time to watching The Hills and Jerseylicious (don't judge me).

The problem is I've not been a very good dater. The other night I decided to take someone out on a date. I was in charge of location, time, etc. and to be quite honest, it was lovely. We went for street food in Camden, followed by a cupcake accompanied walk to Primrose Hill, where we enjoyed hot chocolate and a chat, with the most amazing view of the London skyline. But now I don't know what to do or what to say.

I've spent nearly my entire teenage years in relationships with Troy Bolton, Justin Timberlake and Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell. My teenage years are almost over. I want to find someone that I can be myself around, have sexy times with, and do crosswords with whilst drinking a bottle of red. I really don't think I'll find this relationship in SoHo on a night out with my girls and gays. The only relationship you'll form from a night out in SoHo is with gonorrhea.

My problem is obvious. I'm not making the most of what I get. Cupid shoots the arrows and I go to surgically remove them. But I think this applies to all gay men. I've had two sexual experiences since coming to university. One of them included me bringing someone back to mine. It was just before Christmas and I really liked this person. I even cooked him oven chips for Christ's sake. If that doesn't scream true love, then I don't know what does. After getting the undercooked crumbs of the McCoys oven chips all over my sheets, we got a little frisky and had the best sleep ever resulting in a late for lecture fiasco with a quick digit exchange. After that, I didn't hear from him, and he didn't hear from me (if you're reading this, it's a bit fucking late now, and my apologies for not texting you). Maybe it's just my destiny to become a cat lady, which is fine and dandy with me because I spend 20% of my time youtubing cat videos, and another 20% looking for cat GIFS on tumblr. That's 40% guys. 40%.

This sad and pathetic blog posts calls for an intervention. I, Jack Rattenbury, am going to go on a second date this week. It's what Dame Lauren Conrad would want.

I guess it's time to review some BAFTA fashion.

 

(David Attenborough voice) Here we have the only woman I'd turn straight for, in her natural habitat. Maybe I'm biased, but there are no flaws to be seen here. Anne Hathaway in a lovely Burberry frock. Gay men and straight women are questioning their private parts right now.

 Bradley Cooper can sit on my face and paddle my ears. Lovely Ferragamo suite too. Can we all have a collective 'Mmmm' please and thank you.

 

The best couple ever (Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton) looking slightly weird, but wonderful as always.

 

 Eddie Redmayne could punch me in the face, covered in shit and I would still get a raging boner from looking at him

Carrie Bradshaw would not approve. Looks like Sarah Jessica Parker wasn't one of the horses found in the Tesco value burgers.

 Samantha Barks was amazing in Les Miserables, she was born to be Eponine, but EW EW EW EW. Such a basic dress, her feet look weird and what the fuck is up with her hair? I know it was raining but get a fucking umbrella.

I love her, but she really needs to stop praising the rain. I WANT SOME SUN. (Helen Mirren)

So I'd give the fashion at the BAFTA's a 6/10 stars. Everyone looked lovely (ish), but did someone die? What's up with all the black? Whatever, I'm going to eat doritos now.

Some exciting news!

This week I have started an internship at a pop music blog, but I'm not sure if I'm aloud to tell you the name or the details yet. But I can say I'm having a really good time, everyone is really nice and the work is really enjoyable. I have not been aloud to write anything yet but hopefully that will change soon. In other news (call me Fiona Bruce), *BONG*, I have just purchased a ticket to go to Bestval, which is an annual festival in the Isle of White. Jessie Ware, Elton John, Disclosure and Bastille are there (with many more), so I'm really looking forward to that. *BONG* I'm also going back home to celebrate my mothers birthday, which is rather exciting because as much as I love it here in London, going home is always lovely.

Enough about me, HOW ARE YOU? Because I've been pretty absent from the blogsphere for a while, I can promice you that there will be a new post up soon about One Direction which is all rather exciting, isn't it gays?!

MY THING OF THE WEEK.

My thing of this week is the film 'Pitch Perfect'. Apologies to the gays for taking so long to see this film, but now I have, and I'd like to say that it is possibly my favourite comedy, like ever (channeling Taylor Swift there). I'm not a huge Glee fan, in fact I haven't watched it properly since series two, but Pitch Perfect was the perfect mix of Mean Girls and Glee (in the best possible way), focusing on the characters traits than the plot, and sweet Jesus they have the Empress of comedy characters in this film. Two words. Fat, Amy. She is my new spiritual animal.

Highlights of the film include the burrito scene and anything that comes out of Fat Amy's mouth.

Here is the trailer. Go and check it out as I fear it won't be in the cinema for much longer.

New Year, New Me. Like Fuck.

Happy New Year everybody. It is 2013 which is absolutely crazy to me. I'm not going to get all reflective up on your grill so I'm just going to say this. I hate people and I hate New Years Eve. Everyone is trying way to hard to have a good time and everyone is 70% faker than they already are. So I spent my night getting drunk with friends in below average night clubs, resulting in a grotesque kebab disaster, with me spilling my half eaten kebab on the floor, because I thought I was getting shot due to the unexpected explosion from a nearby firework. FUCKING HELL, THAT WAS A MOUTHFUL.

I wasn't as embarrassing compared to last year. Last year I was spewing my guts out singing 'All By Myself' in my garden as my family watched through the window. This was before leaving a nightclub at half past eleven because I was too drunk. Did I mention it took me an hour to walk two hundred feet to my house? And by 'walk' I mean 'crawl'.

So New Years is not my friend. But I hope you all had a fabulous New Years Eve and had that special midnight kiss (vomit).

P.S I don't have a New Years Resolution because I'm a normal human being who doesn't keep any promises.

Halfway to Heaven.

It's another hangover post (are you surprised?) and I'm currently with a slice of toast which has a thin slice of cheese on top. It is like the mother fucking Moses of my life right now as I feel like my entire body has just collapsed through my arse (or if you're American, ass. Yes that right I just went multi-cultural on you).

Anyway, my best friend from Wales is in town this week and we decided to hit SoHo, aka the best place to ever exist. We went to G A Y bar and literally had one drink before we decided to go to Heaven. This morning I've been having several flashbacks including using a traffic cone as a penis whilst I wait for my friends to cross the road, having a three way kiss, losing my wallet, going absolutely ape shit when Miriah Carey came on (All I Want For Christmas thank you very much) and having someone else put their hand down the rear of my trousers without permission. I don't understand why people want to give you a boner in a club. It's not cute and if 90210 has taught me anything it's to always be cute and never be a slut. Although I would say I'm never cute and always a slut, but I try not to be. Honest.

Just thought I share that with you until I think of something interesting to write about.

I need to get drunk because sex is gross.

I recently came across this study that has shown being sexually aroused overrides feelings of disgust, meaning that you'd much be inclined to do something that you usually find repulsive when you're feeling horny minus your boner. In the study they used porn and something disgusting, (for example, Sex Toy Story 3 and wiping their hands with a used tissue). The people who watched the porn were then more likely to do the horrible task than the people who didn't watch porn. Even though this is completely true, I feel like alcohol has become more of a helping hand when it comes to, well, hand jobs.

Over the past couple of days I've realised that alcohol and being horny cancels out the disgusting state of the toilets in a concert arena I once gave someone a blowjob in (don't judge), or how I managed to sleep with someone so nauseatingly stupid that he didn't even understand what 'jounalism' meant, or how I managed to watch an entire episode of 'The Only Way is Essex' (joking).

But this has also made me worry a tiny bit, because I think whether you're turned on or off should determine if you're up for some bum, and not alcohol. I've always had quite an active social life ever since I can remember, and having been single for a while now, I've been having more one night stands (we've all had them, or will have one soon). I'm not having loads, just once a month or even every two. Usually when I meet the boy I'm going to have a one night stand with, I'm absolutely shit faced and scared I might spew up my sambuca if he's into oral. I'm afraid that vodka has become some sort of social and sexual lubricant that I'm going to need for sex with a future lover that won't be a one night thing.

So this is a little memo to Jack saying that sober sex might be shit, but try it out some time.

I need a stiff drink and a stiff something else.

HELLO! Happy Thursday to you. I decided not to go out tonight and now, have this huge feeling of regret in the pit of my stomach. I haven't had a double vodka and red bull in about 6 days and this to me, is unacceptable to the highest degree. Also I'm feeling unloved. I'm sick and tired of being single and I really want to take part in the American activity of dating because, as a British citizen I feel like we don't really partake in dating, and if we do call it a date it tends to make things awkward. I guess we'd call it 'outings', am I right? So I want an awkward free date with someone that gives me an instaboner (that's instant boner to those who don't know, it's not an app that makes your dick sepia).  My perfect date would be a few drinks (obviously) , sharing a shit full amount of carbohydrates and a good fuck.

Here is a brief characterisation of my ideal man. I like light brown hair and blue eyes on other men *orgasm*. I like men with the same build as me (unless you are Tom Daley, then you can sit on my face), you have to either be a little taller or the same height as me. I love a good sense of humour and if you are lucky enough to be my boyfriend (pushing it), then I'll enjoy seasonal kiki's with you and dick banana splits. You have to like One Direction and support them through every decision they make. Also if I meet any of the following people, you need to understand that I am aloud to leave you if they are in love with me: Zayn Malik, Zac Efron, Tom Daley, Darren Criss, David Beckham or River Viiperi. Please note that this list does change sometimes (everyday). It would be nice if we had similar music tastes. Finally, and this is important, you cannot be clingy. This is the worst personality trait to me. I like time to myself and I think it's important to spend time on your own, as it is with people you love.

It's time for my 'THING OF THE WEEK' and for those of you who are actually feeling alone. This week it's a beautiful video made by a filmmaker called Andrea Dorfman. It's about being lonely and how to cope with it if you are. Whenever I do feel lonely (which is rare because I surround myself with some lovely people) I think of this video and all is good in the world.

Thank God for Fridays and Vodka.

IT'S FRIDAAAAAAAAAAAAY.
Happy Friday everybody. Going to be a stereotypical Friday-lover and go to TGI Fridays and make love to some sweet food. I honestly can't wait to be with good food and good people. I can't remember the last time I went out in London (I actually can, it was last Thursday, but a week without vodka is like a week without company), so going to a bar for some drinks afterwards is a must.

Since the last time we chatted I've only gone and got work experience at Attitude magazine (could I get any gayer? The answer is no), so I'm very excited and going to celebrate by having a cocktail with my meal tonight. A REAL MAGAZINE GUYS! A REAL GAY MAGAZINE. If there is a God, I'd like to thank you with all my heart, soul and jizz.

Peace out
-Jack

Back to London Town

Hello everyone, are you all alright since our last encounter? Well it's my last night in my hometown until Christmas as tomorrow I'm going back to London. Visiting home has been really nice. Weird, but nice. Seeing my family and friends has been brilliant, but I'm excited to be going back to London for the rest of reading week. I MUST DO MY WORK THOUGH. I honestly haven't done anything educational for the past 4 days, unless you count cutting your nails and seeing James Bond as an educational experience.

James Bond BTW (by the way, if you will) was fantastic! Definitely a contender for one of the best Bond films ever. It was nice to see the inclusion of the British Isles as they seem to have gone missing from the past few films. Yes, so James Bond is amazing and I highly reccomend you go and see it, if you haven't already that is (I'm a sucker for a metrosexual men).

Tomorrow I'm going back to work and I really don't want to because I'm not loving it as much as my old store (I work in a supermarket if you didn't know already). It's just that they ask me to do overtime ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Don't get me wrong, the concept of overtime when you're a poor student is actually, properly amazing. But if I say no, the team leaders look at you like you're a lump of shit. I can't wait to go back to my old store during Christmas time to be reminded how a supermarket should be run (I know it's sad, but it really pisses me off).

Before I go I've decided to do a new segment on this blog and it's called... (wait for it).... (I feel like Dermot O'Leary)... 'MY THING OF THE WEEK' (original I know). And this weeks 'thing of the week' is the one and only MADEON! He's this amazing young DJ from France who's been played a lot on Radio One and will be one of the producers of Lady Gaga's next album 'ARTPOP' (The depressing thing is he's the same age as me and all I have is a blog). Check him out belowwwww! Goodbye blog chums, until next time:-)

It feels weird being home.

I was looking forward to coming home for a few days. Having proper meals, sleeping in a nostalgic bed, being with my family, I just thought I would be loving every minute of it. Don't get me wrong I love being home, but I just wanna be drunk rolling out of Proud in Camden. Maybe it's because not everyone has gone home from university or I'm home for no particular reason but it just feels weird.

Although I'm basing all this on one night here and I haven't really don't much today. ANYWAY, I'm going now to watch The Valleys because I want my brain cells to decay. I'll leave you with this photo of Tom Daley.

I'm a Stupid Hoe.

I don't know how to feel. I went to Cardiff to see Nicki Minaj and did two things I regret. Both revolve around love, or the lack of it, and both make me feel like I want to vomit. Mixed emotions without ice cream is very difficult and wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I'm back home in Wales which I think is much needed. Going to clear my mind with my family, friends and wine. Lots of it.

Nicki Minaj was better than expected. In fact I could call myself a Barb if I so feel like it. No? Okay. Highlights included Starships, Beez in the Trap, Pound the Alarm and Monster. I went ape-shit when Monster came on because one is a motherfucking monster. Enough about Nicki Minaj because I still can't believe I went let alone enjoyed every moment of it. Oh, also I was very drunk. Such fun.

After a long, long, LONG night with a 3:30am end, me and my cousin went to sleep with an alarm set for 7. Giving us a whole 3 and a half hours sleep. WOW. SO MUCH SLEEP. HAHAHAHA. *evil face*. This was then followed by a two hour train journey and a 40 minute tube journey. *repeats laughter and evil face*. I was tired and hungover. But the best way to cure a hangover is to go straight back out and do it all again. So we did minus a superstar rapper plus free Dominos Pizza. Yep, the club gave out free Dominos and everything was perfect. Minus the sleep deprivation. But one of my favourite quotes is "No-one looks back on their life and remembers the nights they had plenty of sleep."

I'm now sitting in my living room in Llanelli ready to sleep for my entire visit. Good night. God Bless.

-Jack

On the train to Cardiff...

On my way to Cardiff to see Nicki Minaj. I'm not the biggest Nicki fan but I'm so excited for tonight. Can't wait to show the capital my rapping skills. The only problem is that I have a two hour train ride with no food and I'm exceptionally hungry. I have no cash either so I really hope the trolly dolly accepts card.

Just had a row for using my phone because I'm in the quiet carriage. My bad. Anyway I'm going to love you and leave you as I have just departed Paddington. I need my earphones an my book. See you later!

-Jack

Remember, remember, the fifth of November

HAPPY BONFIRE NIGHT. Although is that correct? 'Happy bonfire night'? Is that a saying?

ANYWAY...

Tonight I went to Primrose Hill in Regents Park to look over the London skyline and it was so cute. Although we left after fifteen minutes because it was so fucking cold. I absolutely adore winter. The snow, the ice-skating, the Starbucks dates, etc. It's my favourite season, but I am the coldest person in the whole world. I need at least 5 layers on before I feel comfortable let alone warm. We then went to KFC (naturally) and I had a chicken popcorn snack box and these spicy chicken things that ended up not being that spicy. It was still beautiful.

Hopefully NONE of my family members have found this blog, and if any of you are reading, please stop or you don't love me and I will die (really I will, its the Jack's family reading his blog curse) (I will die).

I had a one night stand last night which is completely unlike me. It was with this boy I have never met properly but we'd been talking on Facebook. Before someone complains about how dangerous this is. He lives in the same Halls as me and we had met briefly on freshers week. Now I feel awkward because we haven't talked since. He wasn't the best mind you, but what if I wasn't good? My reputation is on the line here. I guess we both just had needs that needed sorting out and holes that needed filling (pun not intended, but rather good) (feel as if I should delete that sentence) (not going to). So maybe I'm just thinking about it too much., or too little. AH HELP. Need therapy.

-Jack

Shall we catch up?

Channeling the inner housewife in myself tonight, by doing the ironing whilst watching the TV. I feel like I should have curlers in my hair and smoking a cigarette. Anyway, lets catch up. So Halloween resulted in a pool of sick and a £10 taxi ride home. Egg was surprisingly good and nothing in the club was related to the name, which confused me. Because it is an odd name for a club, right? Not just me? As you all know I dressed up as a zombie Peter Pan and had a few looks on the Tube which I'm thinking is a good thing? No? Okay. I got ready in a record breaking fifteen minutes, but this worked to my advantage because Halloween is the only night you can look completely shit and not only get away with it, but get praised for it.

Moving on, I'm very excited about the next few weeks. This Wednesday I'm going to Cardiff to catch up with my cousin and see Nicki Minaj, hopefully followed by a nice night out in Cardiff. Then on the Thursday my cousin is coming up to London for a night out and some lovely sightseeing. THEN (I know, I'm sorry) I'm going back to Wales for a couple of days to see the family and see the friends and see the sheep.

Now that we have catched up I can go to bed feeling happy.

Goodnight, God bless.

Happy Halloween

I love Halloween. I usually make a big effort and spend money I don't have on a good costume. But this year I unfortunately have to be an outfit repeater (say it ain't so). I am dressing up as Peter Pan, using an outfit I bought one time for an eighteenth birthday party. I am totally (totes) devastated (devo). I'm going to 'pimp it out' as the youth say and make myself a zombie Peter Pan as there has been a zombie apocalypse on Neverland (if you hadn't heard).  I feel as if there will probably be another Peter Pan at this club I'm going to tonight so that is another reason why I'm twisting a classic character. I am totally (totes) original (orig).

Alas, it is not all fun and games as I am disastrously working until 10pm giving me a WHOLE HALF AN HOUR to get back to my halls, change, put on my makeup and get a little bit tipsy so I don't end up over spending at this ridiculously priced night club (wow). So I'll probably end up catching the tube on my own and then fail the mission of finding my friends resulting in a lonely night bus spectacle back to my room to watch Bridget Jone's Diary. Oh, by the way, the night club is called egg. Sounds cracking (pun intended), and I hope I bump into Lady Gaga (also intended).

I am currently in the library (which is very busy) writing a blog hoping that people aren't judging me. So to make me seem normal I'm flicking from tab to tab with more conventional sites in them, only to find out via Twitter that Nicole Scherzinger has been spotted in ASDA. Hurrah for social media.