I am useless at Christmas.

I tend to get really excited mid September for a few days a bit before my birthday, and then I pretty much forget about it, and put off buying presents etc, because I think I have LOADS of time, until about the 22^nd of December. At this point I usually realise that I actually don’t have loads of time, only a couple of days in fact, which may be plenty for an organised person, but really isn’t for me. So then I spaz around town for eight hours, picking out crappy presents that I really like but will just obtain raised eyebrows from my friends (last year I got my mum a remote control rat that had sticky feet so it could climb up walls and this year I bought a thing like a cookie cutter but its for toast and says ‘fuck you’ on it. I think I’ll give it to my dad or Craig), and then get home and stay up all night (life on the edge, I know) sticking bits of shell to cardboard for everyone I couldn’t find anything real for.

Also, until a few years ago I used to be in charge of sorting out the tree, which was ridiculous because I always forgot about that too. Then one year I actually didn’t get anything sorted until about five minutes before Christmas, and we ended up with a branch off of our neighbours’, stuck in an urn with some fairy lights and a defaced Barbie on top, and now I’m not allowed to be in charge of anything important, which is probably quite a good idea actually.

Here is a nice music video from youtube featuring some of Newcastles’s finest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dF5xVnTo8gs

The one on the far right looks like Katie.

Personal Statement

Dear University
Hi, my name is Fran and I really love history, especially reading books about it like '1066 and All That' and those ones about that lady doctor in the middle ages by Barry Norman's wife. I once read one with real facts in from the college library, although it was a bit wordy so after a while I started making a collage out of Quality Street wrappers instead.
As well as being able to read, my skills include peeling oranges, throwing things for my cat to chase and not giving up smoking. Also, I am a whizz in the kitchen and can make a variety of dishes such as scrambled egg, mushrooms with herbs, and pancakes, which if you ate them one after the other, you might be justified in calling a three course meal.
I once volunteered to do gardening for a Native American tribe which shows that I am nice, although I got sunburn and loads of blisters and they didn't say thankyou so I probably wouldn't do that again.
Because of my discussed traits I think I would be a real benefit to your university and you should definately hire me or whatever.
P.S. I don't really have any money, but if you want to waive the fees I will totally cook all your meals for you. Hope you're looking forward to scrambled egg every morning! xxx

Let the fun filled Anglo-Saxon extravaganza voyage commence...

In 15 hours (perhaps, we’re not very good at the whole counting thing) we (we being Fran and Katie) are departing for a fun filled, adventure ridden Anglo-Saxon extravaganza voyage to Suffolk. Jokes. It’s actually a death trip where our demise is inevitable, whether it be by hypothermia or getting on the wrong side of a drunken, history-crazed, Geordie ex-marine. As if this wasn’t bad enough, there are only FOUR of us going. It is going to be like a fucking family outing where we’re the (overgrown) adopted children being dragged around with force to look at decrepit monuments and ancient hats without a trace of appreciation or integrity. And it’s sodding cold, and that’s not an over reaction, I checked BBC Weather. It’s -5.

Pray for us.

Ginger Slut Luker + Captain Crime Wilkes.

How to (temporarily) get away with not doing any work

For some reason*, I seem to be doing archaeology at college, for which we get set about four hundred and twelve essays a week. I have neither the will nor the brain power to do most of these essays, but unfortunately my mum knows this, and is insistent that I should and constantly threatens to lock me in the utility room or take away my wine and friends if I don’t get on with it. Consequently, I have become quite the expert at making it look like I have written pages and pages of fantastic shit, when in fact I just sit around eating tangerines and drawing on my face with felt tips. Anyway, I thought I’d share with you, seeing as I’m actually avoiding doing one right now and we don't have any tangerines left. I know, I’m amazing.

1. Firstly, you actually have to do a bit of work, however, this bit isn’t very strenuous and means you can relax later. So open up a word document on your computer and type out the title. Maybe even add a few bullet points for good measure, e.g.

“Archaeology makes everyone want to die” Discuss

• 2 main views –  the “No way, flint is awesome!” view (Phil from Time Team), and the “Abso-fucking-lutely, just thinking about megaliths makes me puke blood” view (everyone else)
• Hillforts suck
• but mud is quite good 

This way, if a parent comes to check on your work you can show them how mature you are ‘cause you PLAN shit now.

Now, you can reward yourself by drawing a dolphin hugging a barracuda or something fun like that.

2. Before you get too carried away with marine fantasies, copy and paste a couple of paragraphs from one of the (two) essays you’ve managed to complete in your rare moments of diligence and commitment. If you’ve never had any of these moments, get something from the internet. When parent next comes to check on progress under the guise of tea bringer, you can be like “LOOK, I’VE WRITTEN LOADS I’M GREAT” and everyone will be happy. If they ask to read your ‘work’, say “Of course, I know you’ll really enjoy all the statistics and long words I’ve included” and they will fuck right off.

Carry on with the dolphins.

3. Repeat step 2 as many times as necessary.

Yay, now you’re mum thinks you’re clever and committed and won’t be able to hold this against you next time you’re shit and unorganised.

Tips for authenticity: have open books draped on desk/floor/self to give impression of ‘extra reading’, make typing noises periodically so they don’t get suspicious and/or think you have some kind of super power where you can type silently.

The finished product

*I had a series of moronic thoughts when choosing college courses including “Ooh archaeology will make me like Phil from Time Team yay I love mud” and “hmm, I read a book with the word ‘philosophy’ in it once when I was twelve, that must be the course for me!”

***** Whilst this is a brilliant technique, it is not perfect, as sometimes teachers notice when you hand in essays which are shorter than the title*****

This is stupid.
But my mum is awesome; she came to pick me up from college today so I didn't have to wait forty years for the bus + she didn't miss her dentist appointment.

Happy Birthday Greeny

Glad you could join us at eighteen. Finally, gochhhhh.
Also, I still can't get my eyelashes off, I think they're there for the long run. Love x

Archaeology is shit.

I hate it when you make a cup of tea and then forget about it because of your unwavering commitment and love for all things archaeological (not) so it goes cold. Its such a waste, and its all archaeology's fault.
RIP cup of rooibus, wish you'd stayed around longer, it could have been beautiful xxx

Suuuuupp

I didn't forget I've just been busy.
But I have been learning stuff.
For example, Francis Pryor doesn't think there were any Anglo-Saxon invasions in the fifth or sixth century AD. Pfff.
And that guy from that TV show on channel four where they all wear orange boiler suits has a wonderful accent and beautiful curly locks - almost as good as Kyle Falconer. I might watch it one day.
And to not wear white socks which aren't yours with no shoes when its been raining and the path to your car is muddy. They will never be the same again. Nor will your relationship with the sock owner.

fine.

well here is a picture of a pony then.

i hope you're scared of horses.

fhdjthmn

I'm not going to forget, can't you just give me twenty quid cause this is a pain in the rrrse.

just to prove i haven't forgotten...

My week so far:

Monday = birthday, got drunk, fell in pond, lots of bruises, pain. Also, Green put me on facebook and I'm pretty sure I offended LOTs of people, good stuff.
Tuesday = hangover, made it through nearly four hours of lessons without falling asleep, developed severe and life threatening cold.
Weds = severe and life threatening cold even more severe and life threatening, lost last bobbly bit to go on headphone earplug bit, dad bought me a banana milkshake. cool.

Thurs = severe and life threatening cold less severe and life threatening, got told off by man for parking wrong outside college, went swimming and waved frantically at lady with condescending face everytime she looked at me condescendingly cause I can't swim proper, ate burnt lentil burger, wondered what I'd look like with green hair, tried to draw a picture of it, found a picture of me pulling creepy face.



me with green hair and creepy face



Today, I have been questioning things lots.

Here are some examples of my questions:

• Where is my mum? She offered me a cup of tea twenty minutes ago and now she is nowhere to be seen. She does this a lot.
• Why have I chosen the period of history that doesn’t exist to do an A level on?
• Who the fuck is Pitbull and why the hell is he all over Enrique? THAT’S MY GIG (and Ginge’s.) (So is whistling.)
• Will Alex ever get over her hatred of baked beans?
• SHUT THE FFF UP DAVID BOWIE I SO DON'T CARE IF THE WIND IS WILD RIGHT NOW I HAVE ABOUT TWENTY ARCHAEOLOGY ESSAYS TO WRITE

If anyone has any answers...

Stuff I learnt this weekend

-Africa and Spain are really close. I'd always thought there was miles between them but it is not so. Look,

I reckon I could swim that.

-I'm still allergic to chocolate spread.

-Marks and Spencers don't let you swear on birthday cakes

Love + Arthur Lee

The other day I burnt off a copy of Forever Changes by Love, which i haven't listened to in a while, and I just remembered how fucking brilliant they are.
But I swear, I've only ever met like two people who have ever heard of them, and one was my dad so he doesn't count. I don't get it, and it makes me crumple a bit inside. They're so perfect, I wish everyone knew them and loved them, that would be the best.
And also, while i fully accept Jimi Henddrix's awesomeness, their version of Hey Joe is  better. They're CRAZY good. And Arthur Lee is pretty much one of my favourite people in the world.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-3Tk1AoXaI&feature=fvst

coooooooooooool

Yesssssss

I changed the name of this thing AND my driving licence just came in the post.
muthafuckaaaaaaas

COOL FACTS ABOUT DOGS

I don’t actually like dogs, and consequently don’t know any COOL facts about them, but luckily, two of my bestest friends do and even have THEIR OWN dogs. However, neither of them know any facts about dogs in general cause they’re really dense (one of them is ginger, go figure) so here is a list of facts about their own dogs. And my cat, who is also ginger.

BAILEY

• he wears a red bandana round his neck

• he barks at Chinese people in yellow jackets

• he eats Meaty Balls which is ironic cause he had his balls cut off ha ha ha

• he ear voms frequently

• he will high five you if you bring up Jason Donovan.

EBONY

• her full name is Ebony Ray Araura Flammable Lycra Greenybum

• she eats paper

• she can heil Hitler (great...)

• she doesn’t seem to care that I don’t like dogs and jumps on me and barks at me anyway

GINGE

• he looks like a leopard

• he likes Nirvana

• he can play the pan pipes really well. Actually that’s a lie, he can’t but sometimes he wags his tail really rhythmically.

don't get me started on titles...

Okay, Dominic just pointed out that the title of this thing seems a bit deep and profound, and has wondered if I am asking a philosophical question.

I AM NOT ASKING A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION. I HATE PHILOSOPHY. I GOT A U IN MY AS EXAM.

Nor was I trying to be deep or profound, I was just venting, I think. It's kind of a long and uninspiring story, but I guess that’s what these blog things are for?

See on my ipod you used to just be able to make a playlist, and it would name it for you, but the other day Itunes was updated and now when I make a new playlist on my ipod a little box gets all in my grill, telling me to name it. So even if you don't really want to, thank you very much sir, you still have to type something in.

Anyway that was fine but then later on, I uploaded some photos onto my computer and put them in a file, and that wanted a name too, and obviously it has always been that way, but that day I noticed it and annoyed me very much more than it should have done.

But THEN, that very same day, I had to create this blog and an account etc, and it seemed like every other bloody box was asking me to name something, and so I got all angry cause I couldn't think of any more bloody names and I just wrote 'Why does everything have to have a name?', and now I understand that I look like a douche but I can't seem to change it, so that’s how it’s going to stay, comprende? Cool.

Bonjour, Angleterre...

So, I'm not really sure how to start this, but I think I'm going to go for a bit of background information, if you will.

I was at a friend's house the other night and we decided to make a few bets. I won't go into too much detail, but basically, I'm pretty unorganised and forgetful sometimes, so my thing is having to write a regular-ish blog for the next six months. Or five months or something. I don't remember. So, on reflection, they're pretty pathetic as far as bets go, but I said I would and I can't really afford to lose twenty quid, what with not having it and all.
Even if I feel like a bit of a prat.

Peace out.