Nothing to Worry About…

-1Anyone else get this all the time?

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Yeah.

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Well I guess if you tell me not to worry, I’ll stop worrying. No problems. All better.

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I knew that whole anxiety disorder thing was bullshit.

It couldn’t possibly be at all like telling someone with depression to stop being sad.

Or perhaps like telling a paraplegic to go for a run.

Just something to think about, folks.

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‘Whore Dancing Academy’

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Or at least this is what the guy I’m dating calls it.

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However, it is more commonly known as pole dancing class.

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My best friend did a one off class a month or two ago and enjoyed it so much she immediately signed up for the full 10 week absolute beginner course.

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I SAID ABSOLUTE BEGINNER, NOT EXPERT!

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That’s better.

As soon as she told me about it, I (of course) signed up too.

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Based on all the things I’ve written about in the past, you didn’t really think I would pass that up, did you?

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And so my training began.

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Wait, hang on. Give me a second to prepare myself

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OK. Let’s continue.

I’m about 6 weeks in now and getting intensely sick of hearing ‘California Gurls’ by Katy Perry.

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(at the end of the 10 week course, there’ll be a ‘Beach Party’ themed showcase of all the course routines; hence ‘California Gurls’ being our song)

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So let me give you the down low on what I’ve learnt so far about pole dancing.

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A Pole Dancing 101 (if you will)

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I’ll describe everything layman style (mostly because I don’t know any better) so you can all understand the process.

Lesson 1: It fucking hurts.

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As in, you bruise. A lot.

(PS – they’re called pole kisses, which sounds nicer but still hurts the same)

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Lesson 2: It’s not as sexy as you expect.

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You’d think that watching yourself do body roles repeatedly against a phallic object would be super sassypants but that, my friends, is where you are WRONG.

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It should look like this:

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But it feels more like this:

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I genuinely can’t watch myself practicing moves in class because I’m too embarrassed. I feel ridiculous.

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Apparently it’s just not done to laugh at your reflection constantly (according to my teacher after I demonstrated said laughter) so I just don’t look in the studio mirror anymore. It’s easier that way…

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Lesson 3: Don’t tell people you’re doing pole dancing or they will judge you.

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Lesson 4: If you’re doing it right, it’s a real workout.

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Since you’re lifting only your own body weight, it’s great for your core (that’s what she said).

Lesson 5: Sliding down the pole wrong will cause you to burn the skin off your feet. Don’t do it wrong.

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PS – Not my foot (thank shit)

Lesson 6: Don’t do this course if you are a straight male. I guarantee you will not be able to hide how much you’re enjoying yourself (if you know what I mean) watching mostly undressed women dance around poles.

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Lesson 7: Make sure you’ve got some self confidence. I don’t. Dressing in a skimpy top and short shorts and doing sexualised moves against a metal penis type thingy is not really my area of expertise, I’ve since realised. Austin Powers would do a much better job.

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You get on with your sexy self, Austin Powers!

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Now, I was gonna do 10 lessons but I can’t think of anything else so I’m just gonna pretend as if I always intended to finish at 7…

… so, uh, I guess we’re done here.

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*awkward goodbye*

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Woopsief***

Yeah, so today was boring…

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I might have maybe, slightly flooded my WHOLE FUCKING APARTMENT!

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Woops…

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 I was having a shower and when I got out I stepped into a puddle…

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… a puddle that covered every room of my apartment except (thankfully) the living room and my housemate’s bedroom.

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So then I was running around like a (naked) headless chicken, throwing towels around like a crazed bathroom attendant.

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Yeah. So that happened.

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I was meant to have a nice leisurely morning, hanging out in bed and dozing, before heading into the city for a lunch date with a friend but OH NO!

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Then the guy I’m seeing, who had spent all afternoon helping me clean my apartment, got a ticket for parking his car in front of said apartment.

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Cherry on the motherfucking cake.

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-1

I must admit, I’ve never before been worried about a Friday the 13th. However, based on how today has gone, I’m a little nervous that tomorrow will be even more of a shit storm.

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Please, please, please, let Friday the 13th not be as bad as people anticipate. PLEASE!

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Well, I guess I’d better prepare myself mentally by sleeping as much as I can tonight. At least that way I’ll be awake enough to deal with whatever shit the world can throw at me.

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And you know what’s gonna follow Friday the 13th?

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Anyone got the answer?

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I DO.

VALENTINE’S DAY.

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The day of a thousand orgasms for Hallmark and Cadbury.

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FUCK YOU V-DAY.

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I’ll just wait till the 15th to buy my chocolate. On sale, motherfuckers because that’s how I roll.

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This year, however, I have plans.

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Legit. Fucking. Plans.

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My way of celebrating a day of romance and love is by doing one of those escape room things. Someone locks you and several others in a ‘haunted’ room for an hour with a torch and you have to solve puzzles to get out ALIVE. Or they just let you out after the hour is up. Either one of those.

So you guys can have your hearts and flowers and I’ll be nailing V-Day like a motherfucking boss.

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And on that note: sleepytime.

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Bye bitches.

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Sims

Does anyone else remember spending every available hour of their teenage years playing this on their computer?

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No?

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WHAT THE HELL KIND OF CHILDHOOD DID YOU HAVE?

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If not, you’ve never experienced the glory of building your own house and buying all-the-things because you cheated and made yourself a millionaire (fuck playing it properly).

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You’re supposed to get a job and be a normal, functioning human but I do enough of that in real life so I just build houses and make my Sims have sex.

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As if you didn’t do that.

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 Moving on…

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I used to be able to play it for hours on end when I was younger but now after 20 minutes or so my eyes ache and I just want to nap.

Plus, being an adult is hard enough in real life, what’s the point of doing it via virtual reality.

TOO MUCH EFFORT I SAY!

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Screw jobs and all that nonsense. Why would I do that when I can just make my Sim rich?

WHY?

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Anyhoozle, the moral of this story is: ah who the hell knows…I’m gonna play Sims now.

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Sunburn 101

Holy shit.

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I’m so fucking sunburnt.

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There is barely a part of my body that doesn’t feel like it’s being stung by motherfucking wasps right now…

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Maybe my toe?……NO. THAT IS ALSO BURNT. NEVER MIND.

giphyIt burns! It burns so bad!

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I went to Wet ‘N Wild yesterday and like the dumb fuck I am, I wanted to look nice. Instead of being sensible,  I wore a cute little bikini and my poor virgin skin was exposed to the scary sun and now WOOPSIEFUCK, I hurt.

giphy-1Sunburn on a normal human is bad enough but when you factor in my anxiety disorder, it just becomes a motherload of fuck.

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 I ended up having to take pills. Not for the pain. Oh no. To stop me from having panic attacks. Of course.

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I’ve been so good on the anxiety front lately. Dating someone doesn’t really leave you time to get inside your head. Which is fabulous for someone like me; someone who needs to stay the fuck out of her own brain.

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That is just a recipe for disaster.

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I managed to stop a panic attack before it started, mostly because the guy I’m dating was in my apartment and I think it’s a little too soon to expose him to all of my crazy. Ain’t nobody gonna wanna hang around after that.

tumblr_milksy0cK21s60vaxo1_250 tumblr_m3xt8ndHto1rupmkgo1_500On the plus side, I have a new nickname: candy cane. That’s kind of cute, right?

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Alright, it’s been real, but my inability to find a comfortable position to sleep at night has led me to need constant naps so I’m gonna go ahead and enter unconsciousness now.

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Having A Life…

So it turns out that having a life is actually so much more difficult and tiring than not having a life.

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After gaining so many new friends during the making of one of the shittiest productions of West Side Story to ever grace a stage, I figured my popularity with human beings other than myself would eventually wane.

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I was wrong.

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That’s why I’ve been so selfishly neglecting all of you lovely people in the past few months. Each of these posts takes several hours to craft (finding the perfect gif is an art form) and it’s not often that I get several hours of down time at once. This week in its entirety will have contained two trips to the theatre, several sleepovers, one choir performance and a weekend at my parents’ home.

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I had my first evening of leisure tonight (leisure being laundry and grocery shopping because adulthood is a dick)

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…and holy asshole, it was as majestic as a unicorn crapping rainbows.

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I don’t even know what to do with myself when I’m at home anymore. I’m like a fish on a bike. No fucking idea what I’m doing.

fish-on-a-bicycle-o Yeah, I can’t believe it’s a gif either…

I’m so exhausted by having a life (first world problems) that even my work ethic is suffering.

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Turns out I’m not so functional with only 4 hours of sleep on most nights. Who knew?

 tumblr_mdpm7wt4JZ1r21i5xo1_500The world’s smallest violin is playing a sad song for you.

You’re welcome,

Mr Pink

Plus, courtesy of Tinder, I’ve been seeing someone.

holy-shtYeah, I know. I didn’t think I was capable of engaging men with my rather unique personality either…

My past experiences of dating have all involved minimal effort on my part and even less actual time spent in the other’s company. That’s just all I’ve been capable of committing emotionally up till now.

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I have been anxiety’s bitch for so long now that it’s bizarre to spend time romantically with someone and not be suffering from some form of psychological insanity.

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Turns out I can be a fully functioning human being after all!

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Now dating is my bitch!

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The only downside of dating like a normal person, is time. Where the fuck did my free time go? Sometimes a person just needs to be a nancy-no-friends for an evening or two.

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Plus, now I have to shave my legs every day.

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Entirely too much effort. People need to get on board the hairy train so I don’t have to waste all the hot water pretending like I don’t have hair on my delicate, feminine body.

tumblr_mzi9emD3eb1rp2i22o1_500Spoiler alert: I do

You know what though? That’s life, and I’m living it like a motherfucking boss right now so I can’t continue to pretend that I have a reason to complain about anything other than my shitty case of tonsilitis (fuck you, tonsils).

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And on that note, people, I gotta run…

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…to bed, so I can sleep. This whole staying awake is beyond me because screw consciousness.

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Sweet Deans

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