I just had an Epiphany.

So one night, namely last night at about 2 am, I had an epiphany.

Why was I up at 2 am, you might ask?
Well, a friend of mine called me to wail about how he couldn't sleep and all that, obviously forgetting that I live in Germany again now which means the time difference is even worse. But if you know one thing about me, let it be that it can be 2 am, or 3 am, or 4 am, or whenever; if I care about you and you call me up, I will take that call. I will scramble around the house barefoot and in my cupcake pyjamas, with my nerd glasses on and bed hair, waking everyone else up, until I find that fluffing phone of mine that has the habit of disappearing, and let you whine about your life.

I will not do that if I don't care for you deeply because my sleep is sacred. I would look even worse if I didn't sleep so much. I have different ringtones for people I like, and that's that. If I love you, I shall die for you.

Not literally, I wouldn't do that.

Well, anyways, after having to console my friend (whose name I will not tell you for obvious reasons, but you know who you are, and I love you to bits) and actually singing him to sleep, I was awake for some time, so I made myself some chamomile tea and ate a brownie and had a very nice chat with my cat.

I also started actually reading To Kill A Mockingbird (which I managed to write essays about without ever reading more than the first page, I just paid attention in class and basically retold everything my teacher said when writing the exam). It's really confusing, because I got to about page 500 or so and no bird had died yet. I don't think there's even a bird in that book. Nor that it dies. Therefore, it's a very stupid book, if you ask me.

In that hyped up moment of insomniac genius, I had an epiphany, and that is where we arrive at the start again.

Okay.

So my epiphany was not that my cat doesn't have a particularly nice personality, though I realised that as well.

It wasn't that I have way too many knitted jumpers and cardigans either, but I really do.

(I also realised that I am quite chubby and should really try not to bake as much. But then I wouldn't have any friends.)

Uhm yeah, I'll come to the point now.

It was that I am writing this blog, only for nobody but my friends to read it, and TBH, I don't even think they like it, they probably see it as some weird friendship duty they have to fulfill in exchange for cake and bad jokes, and braided hairdos (well, the last thing isn't really anything positive for the guys among them, but they eat more cake).

So, in order to change that, I ... I don't really know what to do.

I might make it a friendship duty to post a link to this blog EVERYWHERE, and I might get an actual YouTube channel, and I might invent weird dares, but tehre'd be no point in doing that if nobody reads this.

But, most importantly, and this is something I will actually do, from now on, every Sunday I will post a Guide To Being British.

Okay, yes, that was part of my epiphany.

I always get made fun of for my weird British accent, and right now, everyone seems to love Britain.

So that was what I thought.

But seriously, if anyone ready this, post a link on your twitter, instagram, whatever, I don't even care. Just don't tell any people I might now.

I always bitch about them, so that'd be unfortunate.

Buh-bye!

PS: It's funny how everyone keeps mentioning that this one guy, and I forgot who he was, barely even studied for his GCSEs, as if that was a bad thing or extraordinary. Duh, nobody studies for their GCSEs. And if you do, you start the morning of the exam.

PPS: I did not spellcheck this stuff.

Monday.

I know, I know.
But to my defense, school has been literally kicking my sorry arse.
Well, not quite literally as that would be sort of weird.... But yeah.
Have I told you I hate the people at my school?
I do.
Gosh, I hate them.
This had to be said.
I am still writing on that goddamn fanfiction and trying to make a lot of earrings.
You see, I want to sell them on christmas markets for BIM, which is a charity for children.
And ... yeah.
I'm sorry, I'm being a gimp, but I'm really tired and mad.
I'll tell you tomorrow.
It's half eight now, I shall go to bed.

Meet Jeremy.

Meet Jeremy.
We're best friends now.
I love him. 

In the background is my kitchen, sorry for the awkwardness...

That having been said, Jeremy is going to help me with the new part (The Kitchen!). I had recipes on when The Giggle Corner was still lame and new and called Teapots And Photographs and it all got a bit too much, but now since I have Jeremy everything is going to be so much easier. Also, I was asked to put the recipes in again because they were awesome. Awe, thanks, my dear angel faces!

Well, anyways, because of that, I wanted you to meet Jeremy. If he's really nice, I might get him a Jereminette and we can all live happily ever after. Except for me, because I'll still be forever alone, but I'll have my seventy-two cats, so I'll be okay.

Ah, I'd really appreciate it if you'd send me some Jeremy fan art like you did with my old old old blog (if you read that) and Herbert the Mug.
Yeah, good times.

I did not speelcheck that.

This post only exists bc I pinkie-promised myself I'd write one every day.

This is a short post.
I hate my life.

Gonna go get some paracetamol now, good day.

MY DANCE JAAAAAM!

It's the weekend, my dear flying ninja kitties.
Is anyone else just gasping because they're so happy? I hate my school....
My planner already looks like hell and it's only the second day of school. Sixth Form was way easier than this broccoli.
You don't believe me? Look at my agenda for MONDAY. (I like to remember stuff with post its. The empty side is the weekend. Just saying.) And it's only Friday, there's going to be more...

I think I need a bigger planner... But I can't be arsed to buy another one just for these what, three months? Four? 
Note the bottom right corner and how I even need to write myself a post it so that I don't forget about my boyfriend and ignore him even existing. That's how stressed I am. Oh, and note how I'll have to work on Sunday.

On a lighter note, have you guys heard of the Sister Eleanor account of twitter? It's ace! (Check it out by clicking here.)
To increase publicity, I have sworn (and I ringfinger-swear once more, you are my witnesses) to make a YouTube video (yes, i've got a YouTube account now) of my ingenius dance moves. My friend Vivi agreed to film it. We are in on this.
And I dare you, I double-dog-DARE you to send me the videos of you dancing retardedly. Just anywhere. Choose your own Dance Jam.
And yes, there's a story behind all this.
You see, I was at the mall as of yesterdayyyy, and my ABSOLUTELY BRILL DANCE JAM (I don't even remember what song it was, but I am really sensitive to caffeine) came on. So I started dancing like the biggest retard in the history of the earth. It was sort of a mixture of an Irish Jig and 50's moves.
My friend, S, who doesn't want her name to be mentioned because she's scared of people knowing we're friends, was acting all prissy and claiming I was ruining our chances of getting hot guys. Oh well. Whatever.
One guy in my year told me he went to a club in the holidays and this obviously gay guy in a pink polo and everything started grinding up to him from behind and then he just walked away and the gay guy looked at him like he was really mad. Haha that must've been so retarded.

Oh well. Here are some GIFs for your inspiration.

PS: Send your videos or pics/gifs you have found of you dancing or just some moves you want me to do when I film my Sister Eleanor video. Twerk it.

Back To School.

So in case you didn't know, which I assume you didn't, today was my first day back at school. Over the last few days, everyone seemed to be freaking out - it's our first year of Sixth Form - about what to wear, so I'll tell you what I wore. I wore jeggings. Boom. Take that, dolled up rest.
Sorry, I just really couldn't be arsed to wear anything nice, but did apply some eyeliner and lip tint in the car, so I expect you to be proud of me. Plus, my favourite thing ever to wear right now is a blazer anyway, but I still looked slightly like a scarecrow compared to the others in their fancy new leather jackets and dresses and whatnot.
So this is something I really don't understand. Coming into Sixth Form, we've had more than ten first days of school, so why does everyone still act like it's something really big and important what you look like? Geez, people, we've known each other for at least all of High School (and, mostly, Middle School as well) so we've seen each other in all these amazingly embarassing phases of puberty, including seventh effing grade, so what you wear when you come back to shool really isn't going to matter. Be happy I bothered putting my contacts in.
Everything's just cool, if you don't count the fact that I have to have the worst schedule ever. In like the history of bad schedules.
One of my friends has two frees first thing in the morning on two days and only has to stay in on the afternoon two times as well.
For me, school effing starts at eight a.m. EVERY morning and I have to stay in four out of five days a week. Life is so unfair. On a lighter note, I only have the teacher who hates me with all of her might in History (which we all have to take) and I am not going to write my final exams in that anyway, so I might as well fail. Others have her in Lit as well, and we have to take that as a written exam, so if that would've happened to me, I might've just as well left school. 
There's this new guy in our year and rumour has it (actually, I started that rumour off but he told me so I assume it's right) that his parents took him out of school for the last two years because if he would've done just one single thing slightly against school rules, he would've gotten thrown out, and let me tell you, that's a really, really, really hard thing to achieve where I live. So I thought I might make him my new best friend, both of us being sort of new considering I was at another school last year, but I think he thinks I'm a bit of a twat. Also, he's sort of a total douche.
My fingers are ice cold, by the way.

The Bucket List Review - I am a sad excuse for a girl.

• Buy something that makes me feel sexy as hell in summer 2012.

Oh my fudgecake has anyone of you bought one of these New Look Shaper jeans they make your bum look amazing. I feel pwettyyyyyy, oh so pwettyyyyyyy, I feel pwettyyyyyy and wittyyyyyyy and bwiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!

• Sing everything I want to say one day long in summer 2012.

Everyone hates me now.

• Go to the zoo in summer 2012.

I am sad now. I really wanted to do that. But not with my MUM for Christ's sake. So I didn't. Sad. Laura, you wanna go to the zoo with me in winter 2012???

• Go on a major shopping spree at Jack Wills in summer 2012.

I honestly think I just blew up two months' payment (I have a slave job at my Mum's firm) and I Do. Not. Care! YAY.

Oh Jack, I love Thee. I shall buy Thy Clothing until I am broke. Which I am now.

• Stay up all night at a sleepover and do a bunch of crazy things in summer 2012.

I am the proud inventor of the best Girls' Night In playlist ever. No hate.

• Do something illegal in summer 2012

I nicked something. Not going to tell you what it was. If the police ask, you don't know me. This blog never existed. Dum.

• Lose 10 pounds of weight in summer 2012.

Let's face it, I knew from the fluffing beginning this was more a dream than anything, mates.

• Have an epic waterbaloon fight in summer 2012.

So. Cold.

• Only wear underwear for one day in summer 2012.

I think I accidentally flashed my neighbour. This is fun.

• Ask a random cute guy for his number in summer 2012.

Failed as I did not see any cute guys. It's all your fault, England. Your fault.

• Make a new friend in summer 2012.

Remember the neighbour I flashed? He's quite the cool guy... Haha.

• Eat only green things for one day in summer 2012.

I was so hungry................... Need. Food.

• Tell the first ten people I see in the morning exactly what I think about them in summer 2012.

And again, people hate me now. (Or still.)

• Bake a cake every day for one week in summer 2012.

Very good tactic to combine that with making new friends, which I did. Haha.

• Tell nothing but the truth for one day in summer 2012.

After the disastrous tell-people-what-you-think, I left that out, to be honest.

• Find a real person to cuddle up to all the time - rather than a stuffed animal my Mum made for me when I was four that looks like the offspring of a donkey and a rabbit in summer 2012.

Nope, I'm still forever alone.