For Auld Lang Syne!

Wow!

I am genuinely impressed with myself that I am dressed as I am writing this (sorry boys).  Not only that but it is also mid-afternoon and I am 100% sober AND I have not had any chocolate today.  I am sat eating a chunk of Christmas ham but in my defence, I cooked it and it is delicious!

Cooked like Nigella only without the heaving bosom and inappropriate licking of spoons

Cooked like Nigella only without the heaving bosom and inappropriate licking of spoons.

In case you have been wondering where I have been hiding for the past week or so, I have managed to divide my time equally between the pub, the fridge and my bed so if you haven’t been in any of those places then chances are we have not crossed Christmassy paths.

Believe me – if someone had been in my fridge you guys would be the first to know!

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No Mum, I am not gay (and other things that happened this week)

Hi there

How’ve you been?

I’m not too bad thank you – yes I have lost a little weight how nice of you to notice! (I haven’t but you can’t see me so I can pretend)

I went to Blackpool again this week for Katie’s 30th!  Had a wonderful time. Did my Tina Turner dance.  Seriously, it is starting to be a real problem.  Other than that same old same old.

I know this goes against every blogging rule in the book but it is safe to say that not much has happened this week aside from the above.  I won’t be offended if you switch off here, maybe make yourself a brew, have a gander at Netflix.  I promise I won’t get mad.

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Don’t say I didn’t warn you

Right, now we’ve got rid of those hangers on, we can have a proper chat.

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Nathan Fillion’s Twitter is ruining my life

I got retweeted by Nathan Fillion!

I couldn’t believe it at first but 18 hours and 1100 notifications later I’m starting to regret it.

 

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Technically I suppose it is my fault for tweeting him in the first place.  It was ages ago and, although I can’t be 100% sure, there is a good chance that I wasn’t sober at the time.

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Screw you guys, I’m going home

 

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This is it. Moving day.

And when I say moving day – I don’t mean “I’ve met someone and now we’re in love and going to live together” Day, or “I have saved so much money I can buy a house” Day.

This is “I have no assets, no relationship and I can’t afford to keep renting so I’m moving back in with my parents and I’m nearly 29” Day.

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Secrets of a 28 year-old pensioner: An ode to JB.

Before Housemate gets too excited (her initials are also JB), this is not about you. I love you dearly even though you leave tea bags in the sink and lost the key to the post-box. Your achievements are numerous and wonderful but I haven’t dedicated this blog to you. One day, maybe, but not today. Sorry love.

Neither is this blog about Justin Beiber (who I think we can all agree is starting to act like he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic).

You’ve guessed it. We have reached the exciting episode where I explain why on earth I called my blog Sophie, She Wrote. This one is a bit longer than the others but bear with me, it ends well.

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