Au Revoir Ecosse...

Well now, it's currently 01.06 on the morning of the 28th December and I'm about to begin my biggest adventure yet. And I'm terrified. And excited. But mostly terrified...

So, in the true spirit of goodbyes, I sort of want to blog a farewell to all my family and friends that I am having to sadly leave behind in Scotland. It's going to sound slightly like an Oscar Acceptance Speech so I would get comfortable.

I hate leaving all my family and friends behind, adventures are all well and good but it's nicer to share them with someone. If I could take all of you with me to Canada, I would in a heartbeat but unfortunately TARDIS Suitcases have yet to be invented (definitely a potential niche to invest into though).

Firstly, to my Sainsbury's buddies, who have been the best work colleagues I've ever had the pleasure to work with, it's been fun moaning about customers and joking around and I have loved working with all of you. However, I can't deny that the thrill of never having to be on Self Scans again is utterly fantastic and I have to be honest and say I will not miss that part of it.

To Facebook friends who've had to put up with constantly moaning about the snow or posting something Montreal - related. I'm just going to apologise now. Sadly, I'm a drama Queen by nature so I can't promise I'll ever stop complaining but I will be sure to reduce the frequency of my posts in the future to give your eyes a rest.

To Fraser Shaw, who deserves a massive chocolate medal for putting up with my inane and constant questioning about Montreal. You Sir, are a trooper and a fabulous friend.

To everyone who has bought me a card or a gift for leaving, you're all far too generous and kind, so thank you! I'm very blessed to have such lovely, caring friends and family.

To my best friends, you know who you are. Thanks for spending the day with me today, you have no idea how much it meant and the fact I won't see you all for five whole months is a wee bit heartbreaking. I love you guys so much.

And finally, to my wonderful family, who I'm going to miss the most. Twenty years is a long time to live with the same person and the fact that I've only ever spent two weeks away from you makes it even more harder. You're the best family a girl could ask for and I love you all so very much. The airport tomorrow is going to have puddles everywhere, just saying.

Bleak.

Let me set the scene. I decided I was going to go for a nice walk today. A nice, virtual walk on Google maps from HEC (the university) to my apartment on Avenue de Kent (which is said to be about a ten-minute walk but by my standards, that's probably twenty-minutes).

I was quite enjoying my walk, there was a lot of greenery and nice houses. Eventually, after a number of clicks, I arrived at Avenue de Kent.

Looks quite green!

And then, I looked back to see how far I had 'walked'.

Not bad, not bad.

And then I turned onto my street.

Sadface.

Thanks Google Maps, thanks. I despise Winter.

'Art' and Afremov.

One of my main aims in life is to become a cultured gent (although without the moustache preferably. In fact, scratch that, I would carry one off very well). However, one of the stumbling blocks I have encountered on the road to 'snobbery' is a real aversion to Modern 'Art', mainly because I think most of it is a contrived pile of pish. I group most of the pieces of modern 'art' I have had the misfortune to encounter into two categories.

Group One: THIS IS NOT ART.

To get a true sense of what I insinuate with this group, all you need to do is look up either Tracey Emin (whose face has to win 'The Most Terrifying Face of All Time' award) or anything that has been nominated for the Turner Prize. I mean, how is a bed, art? Does it mean I could show my bed off and be awarded with an exhibition? DOES IT?!

Tracey Emin's bed.

Apparently, the bed is to symbolize Emin's intimacy with the world in regards to her private life. To me, all it shows is she's an untidy, lazy bastard. She also used worn pants in this piece. I rest my case.

Group Two: A FIVE YEAR OLD COULD PAINT THIS.

This group annoys me more than Tracey Emin. The painting below was crafted by Mark Rothko and is simply titled 'Orange and Yellow'. Now, I'm not being funny but I genuinely could recreate this. In fact, a drawing of a stick man has more artistic integrity than this. But the suckerpunch to this absurd piece of 'art' (if it can be called that)? It sold for $86 million very recently...

You just can't rid the world of stupidity it seems. And you know what, my cat could paint this, that is how much I think of it. A true waste of canvas.

However, this blog was not just a rant (Yes, you may wipe your brow in relief now). It seems that I may have overcome the stumbling block previously mentioned as I have recently discovered the work of Leonid Afremov and I am in love. His paintings are true art. They're pretty, they're colourful, they tell a story and they invoke emotions. Isn't this what art should be like? Not like the crown colour chart above?

No caption required.

Perhaps he's not as successful as these other artists because his paintings portray real life or perhaps they could be described as 'pedestrian' but alas, that is the world most of us live in and most of us are pedestrians, peddling our way through normality. Simply put, they are beautiful and if galleries were filled with this sort of thing, rather than Tracey Emin's disgustingly stained bed sheets, I'm sure they would attract a bigger audience.

The only thing that worries me about this though is that having a favourite artist might be the harbinger of impending maturity or adulthood. I sincerely hope not anyway.

Shit just got montREAL.

So, five weeks today, I've somehow got to leave the family that I have spent everyday of the last twenty years with at Glasgow Airport, make it to Heathrow, the busiest airport on the globe and then fly to Montreal, Canada, a country I've never been to before in my life and on top of all that somehow,  mature and learn how to become a responsible adult during a seven hour flight.

Forgive my scepticism but even I have no faith in myself.

The thing, is when people ask for my advice, I will gladly give it and generally, I'm quite good at it. I like to help people. But I have a confession to make. It's all bullshit. I make all this stuff up. I don't have a clue and now, I'm paying for it, like a metaphorical Peter who cried wolf (or something). And this is not about believing in yourself, oh no, this is about knowing your limitations. And I have many.

When I was in school and people would say, 'Oh I'd love to go on exchange, that is my thing', I was the person who was convinced she would never want to do that sort of thing because that ain't my thing. Now look where I am. Why did I choose this course?

Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful for this amazing opportunity, I appreciate what it will do for me and I know that there's a 95% chance I'll get there and never want to leave but I'm a home bird. I like my creature comforts and I like familiarity. I'm not an adventurer or an explorer. Unfortunately, the one trait I inherited from my mother was the capacity to think of the worst case scenario of everything and stress. Lots of stress. MAHOOSIVE AMOUNTS OF STRESS. Am I allowed to worry about these things or am I just being silly? I can't tell.

However, I will digress from the anxiety attacks for a moment to share with you all, possibly the most absurd and disturbing thing I've seen in a while.

www.greatwallofvagina.co.uk

The first impressions formulating in your mind when you read that link are probably correct. This guy makes plaster casts of woman's vaginas to celebrate diversity and prove to women that all vaginas are different and you shouldn't be ashamed of your own. Personally, I think you've got too much time on your hands if you are worried about that sort of thing.

On the whole, I don't really mind the actual idea. I guess it could empower a very small minority but seriously, SELLING THE STUFF? I do not want to walk into a house that has casts of vagina just hanging on the wall, minding its own business. And I'm not a prude, I just think it's really strange. Especially, the gold cast one... 

Also, I wish to point out I don't actively seek these things out, I found it in Closer or something (Problem page FTW).

A Scottish Educational Haunting...

Not much has been happening here. In fact, I spend half of my blogs explaining my absence (this must stop).

The past month has been a... revelation of sorts. I think third year has arrived with a metaphorical kick up the arse because I have never felt so crumpled by the work pile before in my life. And then coupled with 'Canadia' stress (It was christened Canadia by Devon) and now honours entrance, I'm drowning. And I believe I'm drowning in 'Real Life'. God, does growing older ever stop getting worse?

As it is the penultimate year of my degree (what?), I have decided I'm going to take a bash at getting an internship for next summer. Now, I can't lie, I doubt very much I'll make it past the application process in most of them for two reasons.

1. Very little Proof that I will attain a 2:1 degree - Which is a pointless thing anyway. How can you employ someone on the basis that they MIGHT get a 2:1 degree? You might get someone who does and then goes into Honours year and falls flat on their face. Conversely, you might get someone who decides they are going to work their booty off in fourth year despite the fact their grades were substandard in second year (Aka, moi).

2. Maths test - I had to do a maths test on the very first one. Given enough time, I can work something out but I was given sixteen questions and eight minutes to do it. I don't like pressure. And then I ran out of time. I cannot believe, after two years at University that mathematics are still haunting me. It's like a slap in the face everytime. I hated maths and I still hate it and you wouldn't be asked to answer a complex maths question in a minute in the workplace. No. It just plain sucks.

So yeah, rant over.

You must be barking!

Today, the family and myself decided to take a trip to Sainsbury's in Kingsgate for a wee swatch at the new store. It's absolutely massive and sort of scary. Having lived in East Kilbride for seventeen years now, it's strange not to see the familiar brick-styled building...

However, I digress. The thing I want to discuss today involves an advertisement that we saw at the roundabout near Sainsbury's, on a billboard. Travelling at speeds of 30 m.p.h, it was slightly difficult to get a good quality photo but I did try my best.

Now, the photo is incredibly fuzzy, so I do apologise but luckily, I managed to decipher most of it and make it onto the website. All I can say is that what I've read so far is nothing short of ridiculous.

Maythorne Cottage is the name of a new, 'luxurious' dog kennel situated between East Kilbride and Strathaven. And when they say 'luxurious', they ain't half kidding. Here is a little excerpt which will hopefully convey my meaning.

"Every dog will have its own Dog Room which will have a half double glazed domestic upvc door. The flooring will be soft vinyl, with 65% of this being under floor heating, leaving the remainder of the area as cool spots for the dog's comfort.

Each Dog Room will have a wall mounted television (just like home) as well as speakers that will carry soft music for daytime comfort.

The rooms will be tastefully decorated - if your dog would be more settled with its own home comforts, feel free to bring along its own bedding and toys etc.

There will also be a second door leading into an Open Room where the dog can sit and look out over views of the beautiful countryside. This Open Room will have double-glazed French doors, which can be opened in good weather and closed during cold spells. The dogs will be secured within their own space at all times even when the French doors are open.

In addition to all of the above, the Open Room leads to your dog's own private garden, which is laid to lawn and chips."

I mean, THIS IS JUST INSANE. Absolutely insane and I have some points I would like to raise. Most dogs don't even have the mental capacity to follow simple instructions, let alone understand a full episode of Eastenders (although, really, who could?). And honestly, would a dog actively choose to sit and admire the 'beautiful view'? Especially considering that you have to tell them to sit half the time? I think I'll believe it if I see it. It's just all a bit bizarre really. In fact, this isn't a kennel, this is a proper dog's hotel, a holiday for dogs. I must admit, I've stayed in worst rooms than the ones described on the website.

However, as much as I am ridiculing it, the owners do sound like they genuinely want the dogs that stay there to be comfortable and happy with their arrangements and they've definitely thought about everything. I know it myself with Biffy, the woman who owns the cattery he stays in is one of nicest people you'll ever meet and a total animal lover, which makes us feel happier.

So, with all that being said, does anyone want to book a room? Sounds like a lovely place to stay!

Here's the link to read at your own leisure.

http://maythornecottage.co.uk/

What do Pete Burns and Ray Winstone have in common? Nothing...

Okay, I'm not going to lie to you, I can attribute many things to my idiocy. But I don't have the time nor the energy to list them and I know, you, my readers, don't have the time to read them either.

However, last night, I seemed to surpass all known boundaries of stupidity and I am certainly paying for it today. So, allow me to set the scene...

I am sitting in the lounge, watching 'Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World' on my laptop. Now, usually when I watch movies, I am known to be quite fidgety, whether it's clicking my toes or shaking my knees (this is beginning to sound like a bizarre dance routine, it's not). However, the source of my entertainment that night appeared to be the cap from my mini hairspray. I was having great fun, biting round the edges but this wasn't enough. No, I thought it would be a great idea to suck it to my face and see how long I could do it for. (Insert awkward elipsis here).

I can only say that it was the biggest mistake of my life. I went into the bathroom about half an hour later and I got the most enormous shock of my life when I saw Pete Burns staring back at me in the mirror. It was horrific. I panicked for a little bit before resigning to myself that when I woke up in the morning, my lips would be back to their normal, lippy-like self and all evidential nonsense from the night before would be forever erased.

I was wrong.

My lips are still a purple-ly, brown colour so I look like a Zombie. The swelling has gone down but has been replaced with a purple circle where the edge of cap had been sucked to my face. The top half resembles a paedo-y pencil moustache and the bottom line makes my bottom lip look like a black man's. I have to admit, applying a circle of concealer around my lips today has to be one of the weirdest cover-up jobs I've ever had to do...

I can't really justify my actions. I have no idea why I did it but certainly, I wouldn't have done it had I known the consequences. So I guess the moral of the story is, don't suck a cap to your face, even if it's fun.

That's some pout...

Anyway, moving swiftly on...

Today, Mark and me went to see 'The Sweeney', the remake of the classic 70's cop show starring Ray Winstone and Ben Drew (aka, Plan B). Now, before I launch into my tirade, I feel I need to point out that I do actually like Ray Winstone. He's a brilliant actor and has a really distinct voice with adds to his characters. However, if someone had asked me to write a list of 'Things I Never Want To See', directly behind 'The Human Centipede' (Sorry, bad pun was bad) would be seeing Ray Winstone kicking off his underwear and giving a remarkably younger lady a right good shagging...

It's just not right. Grunting away whilst he romantically pumps this lady in a public bathroom (fifteen minutes into the film I may add). Then, to top it all off, he does it again, after ripping off this lady's dress and jumping on her. BOAK. I did not pay to see this. I did not want to see this. It does not add to the film. Seriously, all of the film's good points were washed away in two single torrid moments. Eurgh. Seriously, if I have to witness another Ray Winstone sex scene in my life again, it will be too soon. In fact, I'd rather drill my eyeballs out...

The worst part? The actress who he was with is Hayley Atwell, the actress who played Peggy Carter, who played the love interest in 'Captain America'. Now, imagine, locking lips with Chris Evans, one of the hottest men alive and then being told your next role involves filming sexy time with Ray Winstone. I do believe that this is a major step down.

Why?