The Abominable Snow Girls

Obviously living in the North East comes with its fair share of cold snaps… Mostly September through to June, with a few days of luke warm no jacket required weather scattered in July & August. Those are the few and far between days when everyone rips off their clothes in a hulk like massacre, and heads to the nearest beach or park to bathe their pasty skin in the artic Sun. Anyhoo the point I was trying to make is its effing freezing and will be for the foreseeable future. But thats never a bad thing! Winters amazing! You only have to glimpse at such shows as ‘Frozen Planet’ and you’ll be blown away by what frosty treats this season has in store for us. However, the incredible change in nature and natural behaviour is not why winter is my favourite season 🙂 … No matter how fascinating I find it. No no my real excitement comes from my personal change into abominable snow girl, like a Marvel comic character I evolve and get super powers… Which mostly can be classed as laziness!
Now in the short days of summer; pretty dresses, sandals, shorts and skirts rule the wardrobe, where as now the seasons have skipped, big coats, boots jeans and hats take over… Therefore no need to shave legs or paint toes or even slap on fake tan as my pins are constantly mumified… (Even right this second I have 1, 2, 3 … No four layers encasing my legs!) even in the cosiness of home the Pj’s are banged on every night!
I also begin the hibernation process, friday afternoons consisting of collecting scrumptious supplies to last the weekend, so there’s no need to leave the house, and days can be lost watching Dvd boxsets, films, playing monopoly and generally pigging out!
I guess its a money saver … And the lack of contact with the outside world leads to a serious amount of makeup not being worn, and a lot of time saved on hair styling! And even if you are forced to leave your cubby let the hairbrush stay on strike and wack a massive hat and scarf combo on, leaving just enough face showing to navigate through the winter crowds, fighting for sprouts and action men.
Then it comes, the dreaded week leading up to Christmas eve, where everyone has a party , works functions family bashes, meals with friends … Thats when it hits you, you’re going to have to get the hedge trimmer out of the shed to tackle the unruly leg hair, then you’ll have to paint them Orange and maybe sand your beastly toe nails down and paint them some ridiculous colour too … Then comes the hairbrush , where’s its hide out? Probably having a slumber party with all the make up brushes you’ve cruelly neglected. Oh the make up! So out of touch you appear to be auditioning for a drag show!! But finally after pulling on the same old sparkling Christmas number and wrapping up in the posh coat you’re ready to totter in the snow wearing insanely high heels and catch your death. But its worth braving the cold to meet up and catch up … Slowly, very slowly panic will set in , well organised prim and proper women will be reeling off their complete lists of Christmas tasks, boasting of present buying and turkey stuffing… When all you have is a room full of empty chocolate boxes that were bought for presents but ate as hibernation supplies….
Screw it! Get another glass off egg nog and stay nicely sozzled for the rest of the Christmas period!!…. And for New Year, resolute to not come out of hibernation until March next year!!
Happy Effing Christmas
😀

Attack of the Zombean

Halloween came and went like a flash, no longer popular as a pagan tradition seeped in horror stories & ghostly legends, night of the living dead and the witching hour… But modern times have upped the stakes and it has up become a day/night for dressing up & having fun, parties & pumpkin carving, truck or treating & bobbing for apples … Or so I thought…
No longer do flocks of children wander the streets swinging pumpkins by their side, no longer do the run all the way home and empty out sacks of sweets throwing them around the living room like they’ve just hit the jackpot, no longer do siblings spend hours trading off good & bad treats and plan prank like tricks to play on neighbours. Now parents are scared to let the little ones roam the streets , knocking on neighbours doors, of course they are the horror stories we read in the tabloids are far more horrific than any Stephen King novel. Celebrating in the house can even turn into a blood bath as one group of friends found out this friday when a rouge trick or treater crashed the party and stabbed 4 of the guests. Halloween is the perfect time for the dark passengers to lurk about our streets in a frightful outfit waiting to pounce. ..
Are any of our traditions safe? Will the next generation even understand trick or treating or will it be a mythical tale to tell that always ends in murder?
The coming celebration of gun power, treason & plot is expected to end in beautiful displays of fireworks lighting up our skies, showing our voice against the government …. Yes but of course that will soon be a distant memory …. Keep our traditions alive!! …
Beneath this mask is an idea…& ideas are bulletproof …

Lone Wolf

Today I realised I can’t do everything on my own, im not a one woman fighting machine who can take on the world. I dare not admit it but I need people to helps along the way, and im extremely lucky to have a wonderful family & beautiful friends, not forgetting the amazing funnyman boyfriend putting up with erratic behaviour and general crazyness!
I’ve been down on the floor like a little broken bird, but with their help its going to become so much easier to fly.
Lessons learned , dont hide from the people who care enough to hunt you out and sharing problems with people who love you makes it easier to breathe.
I would love to say I could live independently with no help from anyone, but that is a lonely life.
Being a lone wolf doesn’t make you stinger than those who travel in packs.
Peace Out

Stand Clear Of The Doors Please…

Before i got my car i got the metro to work everyday, and now that Dorian is in car hospital i have returned to the tracks with my tail humbly situated between my legs.

As most of the time spent on the metro i am on my way to work, sporting that just got out of bed look, with smudgey mascara eyes and ruffled hair; or im heading home which i sport the same ruffled hair but with added dirt, muck and clarts and a questionable odour, especially in the summer months.

I like to use my time on the metro wisely. In the mornings i like to squeeze into a front of carriage seat, get my baby wipes out and remove any traces of the previous nights makeup and then force a comb through my tatty hair trying to look half presentable, sometimes i push the boat out and throw on a head band and a bit mascara so people know im female. Then on the journey home is where the magic happens I sit with my book on my lap pretending to read, when really im listening to the ridiculous conversations and watching the animal like behaviour that takes place at rush hour. I enjoy people watching, humans are entertaining and make for great future anecdotes. During yesterdays journey home, I witnessed major two faced bitchiness, the moment I nestled into the hyena pit I had predicted the outcome. 3 girls, earlt 20’s two were sister (the youngest sibling being slightly, no massivley simple ) then what I assume was a friend of the big sis. They were constantly throwing snide remarks and sarcastic hurtful comments at dolly dimple but as you can imagine she had no clue of this and carried on as if they were complimenting her. They carried this on calling worse than shit but cleverly so she thought they were lovely. A few stops later the little hyena girl said her good byes and alighted the train, leaving her sister and friend to continue their journey. No sooner had the doors closed, the remaining hyenas began cackling and shrieking at the top of their voices, making unfunny jokes the little sis being the butt of them all. The one I was left with just as the train pulled into my stop was, “seriously she’s so retarded, she ate playdough when we were kids, she struggles to spell her own name, mam should really pay me to take her places or put her in a home” … Oh the joy of sisterhood. At this point all I could think of doing was shooting several holes in her fat head, filling her mouth regurgitated play dough, from her sister and squeezing her, to make a life like playdough factory. But I stopped my self as id left the gun at home.

The most entertaining thing ive ever witnessed on the metro was what I can only compare to a theatrical performance was played out by a overly polished ‘trendy nan’, wearing to much fake tan and even faker jewellery. This particular day i was extra scruffy, black face dusty hair and mucky clothes, not out of choice of course id been up in a 200year old loft fighting pigeon corpses and wrestling 20ft spiders, all in the name of science (well nature actually, as i recall it was the loft of the handcock museum in newcastje home of dinosaurs and butterflies alike) so needless to say i was in need of a good scrub.

The tanned tortoise in question seemed to be having a spot of bother with her grubby little grandchild, (under statement of the year, the two foot snot machine was the worst behaved, and possibly the ugliest thing ive ever laid eyes on) . The child, if you will, was running up and down the ailse swinging on poles (which to be honest with you looked fun, I was merely jealous not annoyed) but then he kicked his gran and a frail old woman sitting opposite, screaming ‘i hate grey people!!!” (which admittedly was laughble, not the kicking part though) i couldn’t help wishing he had picked on a ebony haired Goth couple as he would have sounded like a mini hilter marching up and down the ailse! (for reference, ebony is a glossy black hair colour) . At first it was rather funny watching him reek havoc through the carriage and his nasty chat back and violence was entertaining, however i couldn’t help wondering, if he’s this bad at this tiny size imagine the rein of terror he will have when he joins ‘big school’ . It seems his wrinkled guardian was having similar thoughts, and proceeded to squeal at the top of her smoke abused lungs “Harriet, Stop this intance!!” (two things there a) stop this intance, cliché, and in her put on posh voice it sounded like a shit advert for super nanny and b) fuck me, what a name for a boy , Hatriet is clearly a girls name, so I kind of felt sorry for him he was obviously trying to prove how manly he was to society) as you can imagine the little angel did no stopping, and spat at grandmother tortoise. I was still chuckling at this point, but tanfastic opposite certainly wasn’t. It seems this was the final straw and she grabbed little Harriet by the arm and proceeded to bark the most crazy sounded speech to him (bearing in mind he his a toddler and probably wont understand half of the words she was pretending to know)… “Harriet, you will be attending school within the next two years and if you dont buckle down, you will surely find yourself with no friends, bad reports and bad grades. Bad grades equal, bad exam results which equal a terrible job, no money no wife and no children..” I was massively taken aback by this, I didnt think old tortoise features had it in her, however it was a wasted effort as the infant, stared blankly (but he was silent so not all wasted) back at her. There was a silence that would rival a chess match, most of the other passengers where trying their best not to stare but everyone was so intrigued to see what move Harriet would play next. The gran continued, realising mapping out the toddlers shitty 20year life plan had zero impact, “I mean it, if you dont start behaving you’ll end up like … Like…erm” she scanned the carriage looking for some hobo, down and out, probably with a long matted grey beard who smelt of damp dogs and urine, “THAT!” she shouted waving her scrawny Orange finger at me, I glanced at her in horror, I was speechless, flabbergasted. I just stared angrily at her , trying to compose some sort of witty retort but in my shock my mouth would do no such thing. I looked at Harriet who by this time had swung round to stare at his future form, i likened it to how Mr. Eboniser Scrouge must have felt. Still staring he opened and closed his mouth a few times, finally he stood up right, folded his arms, glanced at me, then to his grandmother and blunted stated “I like miners…”

Check.Mate.

The Wanderer

Im not going to pretend I spend every second of my work day concentrating on the task in hand. Sometimes its mundane, if you define sometimes as all the time. I tend to let my mind wander, not too far mind the last time I did that I found my self standing staring at a blank wall for 20 minutes it was a tad worrying. So on these wanders I often imagine what it would be like if i had the same working day with little added extras. My favourite this week was that I wore roller blades constantly, but no one found it odd, I figured I could get way more work done, my only hindrance would be that of step ladders and come to think of it all stairs in general, this prompted me to hatch a plan to roller blade to work (well to the metro) but I figured I would get mocked and enough of that goes on without adding to it. Another favourite work aid daydream of mine, is of having a monkey apprentice to work alongside you. I thought of this idea a few years back and I guess ive always remembered it. Having a monkey apprentice would be amazing, because a) monkeys are cool as f**k and b) he would never answer back and would do as he’s told finally c) he would share his dinner with me and peel my oranges and bananas , I hate doing that. Other than being awesome and peeling my fruit, other tasks would be hand me tools and get into tricky spaces (and i would always protect my furry friend from electric shock, I imagined that image and I dont care for a Rod Stewart hairstyled monkey)
So amid the day dreams and actual work, i find time to eat, drink tea, listen to my iPod and occasionally sit on the loo looking at funny posts on 9gag.
As im mostly the only girl, toilets are sometimes an issue, most sites ive worked on have been very accommodating and let me share with the secretary or use the disabled loo, however about 6years ago when i was nothing more than a pup, I started work as a newbie, a very nervous newbie. At 16 years old I was rather naive and shy (not terribly shy but no where near as out spoken as now) so anyway, 16, brand new, first day & new people. So after a induction the guy in charge proceeded to show me where the ladies toilets were, now I must point out he used the term ladies very loosely. The toilet in question was a portaloo at the end of a line of 5 other portaloos (bearing in mind an estimated 150 or more people used them…imagine the smell , Jesus !) the ‘ladies’ portaloo was marked (in a Green permanent marker) ‘for girls’ . Now by this point tears had welled up I was horrified, but I took it in my stride, being the only girl I didn’t want to make a fuss, I nodded polietly and began work. There’s only so long you can hold a tinkle in for, and the nerves were building! I sneaked down to the basement where the line of tardis looking creatures stood staring at me, I opened the door marked ‘for girls’ (by now some witty gent had added the word Not above it, genius 😐 ) and began to wee. No sooner had my tinkle begun i heard a great big bang against the door, then another, then it began to shake. Panic crept in and i felt sick, I tried tp escape but it was jammed shut. To make matters worse the toilet had clearly never been emptied for a while and the contents was sloshing beneath my feet. By now I was crying, then to my horror the cubicle rose off the ground and began to shake and move about. At this point I was screaming and banging and trying to avoid used loo roll swilling past my feet. Then silence, the box lowered and hit the ground with a thud, causing more waste to regurgitate from the pan. I exited swiftly and ran away, past a group of gorillas gufawing at my mishap. God knows where I was running to there was no bathroom to clean myself up in. Keeping a brave face I ignored the incident, needless to say I never entered that hell hole again,I simply made use of the disabled toilet in a multi storey car park near by. Still determined to deter me from my newly chosen career path the next day they threw me in the skip, bastards!!
As fun as those times were, I now can sleep peacefully knowing I have a fully flushing toilet equipped with sink and handtowels; also my strength has somewhat improved so I can easily climb out of a skip even with a few bags of rubble thrown in top.
Im not sure how the subject of toilets came up but strangely enough I have notices there is now a padlock on the ladies toilet where im working at the moment. Im the only female, therefore the only one who should be using it however someone keeps changing the combination causing me to almost wee myself every day, as I like to wait until the last minute before urination because I heard somewhere you get more nutrients that way. Bloody tv. I dont see why such high security it worries me that they feel the toilet needs to be padlocked from the out side, who is stealing stuff from a toilet? It also worries me that someone will padlock me in and I’ll starve death or my phone battery will die and I will no longer beable to look on 9gag.com .
To much toilet talk, I need a wee,
Toooooodles

Beans on This Bird Who’s Pretty Mint

Its hard to find a good place to start with Ash 🙂 . Her full name would probably be a good start, Ashleigh Amanda Lowes. Currently she has a spray tan and Barry M nail varnish obsession and constantly smells of biscuits, if I had to liken the smell to a specific biscuit it would have to be digestives, not the chocolate ones though as she hasn’t ate chocolate for 4years f**king weirdo. So we’ve covered her smell, what now, her hair. Hair has been quiet a disaster zone for the pair of us the past few month. At the moment it is a beautiful glossy maroon colour, but before last Thursday it was a patchwork quilt of candy floss tones , as we tried to dye it blonde (it went ginger) so we could then go on to dye it a bright vibrant red (it went patchy pink) however the little bitch actually pulled it off so it stayed for a while. Apparently the reasoning behind the maroon move was because T in the Park is nearing (a few days in fact) and she wanted to look even hotter. T in the Park tutut no way is she roughing it mind, Miss. Lowes and her pal Brady are paying an extra £120 to have there tent and camping area set up when they arrive …. Princesses 🙂 also their camp area has electricity, showers and a salon hmmmm sounds extremely festivally.
Once I actually considered compiling a small book of anecdotes divulging the kooky world of Ash but there are simply to many! However I may make her her own page of the funny wit and adventures and terrible jokes ;);)
When she’s not cracking me up she’s locked away in her loft (its a lovely bedroom actually with Velux windows and a flat screen tv, its two flights of stairs from the front door, I once drunkenly passed out there and her brother had to give me a firemans lift up said two flights) writing songs and learning Adele covers, only Adele no one else she hates everyone except Adele. I lied ! She also has a fancy for Jessie J, who will not be performing at T this year and the Beatles. She probably likes more but this isn’t a dating site if you want to know more check her Facebook. She loves the Beatles so much that she once sat on the bed (not so much that she did a John & Yoko, obviously not a die hard fan) anyway, she sat on the bed and started singing ‘may it be, may it be, may it be, may it be’ which confused me slightly as I recognised the tune, she stared back as if to say ‘why so confused raco’ and giggled ‘its that Beatles song’ …. Yes die hard Beatles fan I see!
But i love her, and her custard cream odour , i will surely cry when she packs her bags for the Bright City! Londons calling her, i dont want her to answer, the the machine get it.
There’s so much more to learn about Ash, but this is all i can teach you today :):)

Beans on Cybertron Addiction

I get atticted easy. I have been addicted to Dexter (The non cartoon ginger lab geek) so much so I watched up to series 5 in a fortnight or so, I also had no social life but found that blood splatter turns me on which is good news for all the menstrating lesbians out there. However now ive finished season 5 of the pedantic killing sprees, and ive now become addicted to 27b slash 6 , Davud Thornes blog, I enjoy the tennis match style emails he has between collegues friends and the authorities it amuses me, but not my boss as he contantly finds me standing up a pair of steps laughing, i asked him if laughing is not permitted on this building site, he assured me ut was and he was only angry because I am constantly messing about on my phone, but I still think he hates laughter; he does have sinister eyebrows that differ in colour to his hair but tgats another un-interesting story that I wont bore you with . Seriously though , 27b slash 6 has become my new addiction 🙂 ive actually had to only allow my self to read two articles a day as I may get extremely depressed when I no longer have any humorous correspondence to read. I do get guilty at times as previous to 27b/6 I had a slight (serious under exaggeration) with 9gag. I know dont have the same time for 9gag now I’ve discovered the emails of David Thorne, rediscovered Twitter and suddenly realised if you post controversial statuses on Facebook it attracts alot of activity. I do sneakly grab a fix of 9gag whenever possible though , its sad when you schedule your day around websites, this is probably why I have no friends and am addicted to my windows phone, I sided with Bill Gates on this one. I guess it is becoming a bit ridiculous when I feel the need to constantly be on my phone, even when enjoying a film or tv show I’m telling others about said entertainment and how good it is, it can’t be that good if I can be drawn away from it my the glistening light of my precious Omnia7; which is now f**ked as I dropped it whilst running for a bus, which should not have happened for two reasons a) I should not have been running for any public transport as I have a beautiful car named Dorian which I crashed a few weeks ago its in the car hospital im still grieving b) I did have an amazing case constructed of gaffer tape, made by the funny man (or gaffersmith if you will) but I lost that … Butterfly Effect, plain and simple. That reminds me I must now go tell Facebook I miss Dexter and inform Twitter of my lack of iPod action today…. Kssstch over & out

Beans on Independently Alone

Now I’m not going to go down the USA route with stars, stripes & fireworks, no I simply wanted to ponder our day to day life.
When you’re a child you’re told what to do, where to go and how to act; nine times out of ten you do as you’re told unless you enjoy getting the back of your legs slapped or sent to your room with jam and bread (which I did actually enjoy, it had to be taken off the punishment list, I didn’t have any siblings so I spent most of my time in my room anyway and the jam and bread was a bonus)
Then you get a bit more independence as a teenager where you can go where you want as long as you inform the authorities (brown owl – she will be explained in full detail soon) and under the condition you act sensibly.
Then comes adulthood, you can do what you want, go where you want and and how you want. But now there’s never anything to do and its upsetting that you may not see anyone for days and nobody worries.
I guess you also gain independence by flying the nest, which i did, turns out you have to independently cook, clean, wash & iron, not to mention the financial side!
Take me back to my play room where i got bossed about and forced to eat jam sandwiches …. Independence Sucks!!

Beans on Toast

I would love to say im a master chef, that I whip up culinary delights in a flash and I never set the smoke alarm off. Alas its quite the opposite so much so I had to disconnect the smoke alarm. I do enjoy smiley faces beans and chicken dippers though I can cook them, just. Its a shame because I love food so much I could sit and eat all day, just not the crap I concoct. I guess its a good job McBride is such a good chef cooks a mean steak, I never go hungry when he’s around. We’ll learn more about him later, he’s funny deserves at least his own paragraph.
The latest in my long list of fails being the turkey nuggets and chips. The chips were a disaster, some were crucified and some were softer than a penis staring at Jocelyn Wildenstein. As for the nuggets, barely cooked a d induced a double flusher vomit fest a few hours later. It was a fun filled evening. Begs the question is there any more…

Beans on Explaining

It may confuse you as to why my blog is named world accordion beans. I would like to say I will explain in full, whilst entertaining you, but no it’s simply one of lifes great mysteries. One day you’ll find out when you eventually forget to stop wondering, then it wont matter anymore and there will be less pressure on my end. 🙂