A weekend of revelations

I have had a weekend of revelation after revelation; here they are in no order of my astonishment. Warning this is mainly about myself… therefore perhaps one of my revelations should be that I have never fully realised my egotistical nature before.

I really cannot drink white wine. My body is a honed red wine carafe why would I taint this by moving to the lighter side for just one evening? Why indeed – follow one of my epic 36 hour hangovers.

 

I actually can wear jeans, and pull off a ‘casual’ style, without looking like too much of an old wanabe skater. Although new converse needed as feet today are a definite indication of shoes too small. Anyway I wore jeans for the first time in about 18 months, not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing though as my skirt/dress repertoire is pretty outstanding.

 

This Jessie J character is not a lyrical genius like all this music journalists are making her out to be. You try living with a house mate who audibly sings her own version of the lyrics on repeat, not only are you scratching your ears out but your vocal chords too because it’s bloody well catching. (I hate you Fiona/Pringle)

I have a gambling addiction. OK it’s only to ebay, but this say’s it’s true: http://www.gamblingask.com/gambling/1877-gambling.html. But I am sure none of this will matter when my beautiful new raspberry tea dress comes through the door, vintage amore xx

First solo valentines in 4 years…eeek. Feedback in a week to see if I’m drowning in tears or a liberal feminist rant.



 

Actually started writing my ever first business proposal, the revelation of this being, it’s WAY more complicated than I had ever thought. I can’t just write...

 
Dear Mr. Banker,

Please give me lots of money to make my beautifully pretty vintage emporium. It will be a smashing success so I can pay you all your money back as quickly as possible for as little interest as possible.

Pop along for a slice of cake and some new slacks some time.

Love love
Hellie G

It totally doesn’t work like that. I will be knocking on Sophie’s Aunts door for some much needed advice.

 

Jersey Shore is funny, even without intoxicating mood enhancing substances. As is 'Married to Rock.' The Human Caterpillar is not funny, vomit.

The Trailer Park Boy’s live is far too much anticipation.

Surprisingly good reception to the idea of having a Gypsy Wedding party, plenty of offers filling the grabber role. Roll on some sunshine so we can add wheels to the summer house for some caravan chic.

I am extremely surprised at myself for note absolutely freaking out and my approaching ‘lack of job—ness.’
I know I made the decision to leave, I know that I cannot make my mind up about what I want to do, nor commit to one job offer, but what I do know is that I love pretty dresses and my cute house and have impending holiday and festival tickets to pay for. In fact I think it’s more that I need a revelation. Do I go back to corporate boredom or, ‘fuck it’ and live life with no pennies but a whole lot of love in your belly for all the good you’ve done the world?
Ebay addiction would prompt the corporate corridor, but my ‘I can totally feed myself 3 meals a day for a week on £5’ head tells me to go save the world, albeit I will be doing it in some awesome dresses. WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO?

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