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I don’t really go in for the big New Year resolutions people seem to spread all over Facebook on the 1st January.

NO MORE CARBS
I QUIT SMOKING FOREVER
I’M NEVER GOING TO MCDONALD’S AGAIN
I VOW TO RUN SIX MILES A DAY

Of course, some people make these resolutions and stick to them, and I don’t begrudge them that – very well done. But in general, most people don’t, and end up feeling worse about themselves than they did before.

Grand declarations put way too much pressure on an individual.

It’s fine to want to improve – but never eating pizza again isn’t really going to help. It may make you thinner and healthier, and that’s great – but are you sure you want to make that much of a big deal that you’re never going to take advantage of Two for Tuesday again?

Why don’t you just eat a few less carbs or go for a run sometimes, rather than restricting yourself completely – and concentrate on being a better friend, daughter, girlfriend, or mother?

In fact, why not stop the 1st January resolutions altogether, and concentrate on improving ourselves, and our relationships all year round?

If you’ve already made one, don’t be afraid to say ‘stop’ if you’re not feeling it. If you are, carry on – that’s great – prove me wrong!

Just try to be your authentic self and it will show on the outside. Everyone can really tell who the fakers are, even if you think you’re hiding it really well. Hold your tongue and don’t say that bitchy thing you were about to say for once.

“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” – Eleanor Roosevelt

Be grateful for what you have, but don’t be afraid to work towards something better.

Happy New Year.

UnknownWhen I was in my teens, I used to think being 23 was going to be fantastic. 23 was like, THE age I couldn’t wait to be.

I’d have a job, my own flat, a boyfriend, loads of friends, my family around me, and a decent disposable income.

Well, I’ve got all of those things. So why aren’t I quite happy yet?

I seem to lie awake at night torturing myself over what I should do next, wondering if I’m missing out on something big. I have a horrible sense of urgency, like I’m running out of time and should be doing something greater or somehow I’ll ‘fail’.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” – John Lennon

I truly think that how you achieve happiness is by building a life around your current situation. Making new friends,  finding ways in which to enjoy ‘the moment’, rather than dwelling on all the things you could be doing or the places you could be visiting.

Remember that all we ever have is right now. Forget about the past. Don’t worry about the future. Take each day as it comes, and most of all, stop thinking that the grass is greener, because it never really is.

This is totally decent advice, and something to live by – but as with a lot of things, it’s easier said than done. All you can do is your best, and that’s the best you can do.

Let me know if any of you ever feel like this!

Happiness is not a goal; it’s the by-product of a life well lived.” ―Eleanor Roosevelt

On Saturday night, after a couple of glasses of wine, I finally got Kurt to agree to the very popular YouTube ‘tag’ – my boyfriend does my make-up.

I think he did really well – what do you think?

As I say in the video, please don’t be jealous of his flair with a blusher brush, or of my beautiful face (!)*

Enjoy!

The finished look, #nofilter :

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•For the minority – please get your heads out of your arses for a split-second to realise that this is a joke, and a bit of jolly Christmas fun!

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Someone sent me a Christmas joke this morning.

“Who is the biggest invalid in the world?”

*please wait the appropriate length of waity-joke time*

“It’s Santa Claus: he has his penis on his head, and his sack on his back!”

Well, as you’d imagine, I was shocked – I’ve not seen any Santa wandering around with a dong on his head!? Well, except this one.

All became clear after I expressed my confusion: “I do not get this joke at all.

Well, it turns out, in German, the hat Santa wears is called a zipfelmütze – but apparently, a ‘zipfel’ can also refer to a ‘penis’.

HENCE – Santa wears his ‘zipfel’ on his head, and his ‘sack’ on his back!

I HOPE WE’RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE NOW.

However, I’m not quite sure how that makes Santa the biggest invalid in the world. It turned out that my kleine German having to translate and explain the joke was funnier than the actual punchline – nothing to do with multiple sources stating that Germany is the least funny country in the whole entire world?*.

Regardless, it made me laugh, and I was inspired to post a few Christmas jokes (shamelessly robbed off the internet) to cheer up your Thursday lunchtime, and to lead you into the almost-weekend with a chuckle.

Enjoy,

E x

P.S. To all of the people who’ve got right on my tits this year – I hope you get Crocs for Christmas.

*In my experience, Germans are extremely funny. It’s just a certain type of humour. You have to try to understand, and once you do – mega fun lolz all round.

And here is a funny video about a German coastguard.

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Jokes bit

What does one ho plus two ho plus three ho make?
A jolly Santa.

Why the Christmas tree can’t stand up?
It doesn’t have legs.

Never catch snowflakes with your tongue until all the birds have gone south for the winter. 

What do you call an elf that sings?
ELFIS

How does Good King Wenceslas like his pizzas?
One that’s deep pan, crisp and even!

Why is Christmas just like a day at the office?
You do all the work and the fat guy with the suit gets all the credit.

What do you call a snowman in the summer?
A puddle.

The first of three Wise Men stepped carefully into the stable but sank his golden slipper into a big pile of manure.
”Jesus Christ!” he yelled.The woman beside the manger turned to her husband and said, “Now, Joseph, isn’t that a better name for the kid than Keith?”

What do angry mice send to each other at Christmas?
Cross mouse cards!

What does Father Christmas write on his Christmas cards?
ABCDEFGHIJKMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ*

At a monastery high in the mountains, the monks have a rigid vow of silence. Only at Christmas, and only by one monk, and only with one sentence, is the vow allowed to be broken.

One Christmas, Brother Thomas is allowed to speak and he says, “I like the mashed potatoes we have with the Christmas turkey!” and he sits down. Silence ensues for 365 days.

The next Christmas, Brother Michael gets his turn, and he says “I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy and I hate them!”

Once again, silence for 366 days (it’s leap year). The following Christmas, Brother Paul rises and says, “I am fed up with this constant bickering!”

A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn’t find one big enough for her family. She asked a stock boy, “Do these turkeys get any bigger?”

The stock boy replied, “No ma’am, they’re dead.”

”I don’t care who you are, fatso. Get the reindeer off my roof!”

Sources:
http://www.jokes4us.com/holidayjokes/christmasjokes/christmasjokes.html

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/christmas/10523013/50-Best-Christmas-cracker-jokes-ever.html

Adult Christmas Jokes

*No ‘L’! LOOOOOOOOL.

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I forgot I’d written this. Better late than never!

Disclaimer: I do not intend this post to be a ‘true’ representation of what it is like to be disabled. This is simply a snapshot of a short period in my life following an accident. I cannot begin to fathom what it is like to not be able to walk. Also, this is not the worst accident or most painful thing that has happened to someone. This is simply the worst thing that’s ever happened to ME. I do not wish to presume, make harsh judgements, or to offend anyone. Please let me know if anything here is not to your liking.

Tuesday 9th September
I had an accident a few weeks ago. It was a silly mistake. A lapse of judgement. Immediately afterwards, I was in a lot of pain andfound that I couldn’t bear weight on my left leg. I didn’t initially think that anything was really ‘wrong’ but had a panic attack, leading me to go into hospital with breathing issues. I was treated for my breathing and had no X-ray to have a look at the pain as at that point my leg was a ‘secondary’ issue. I don’t mean to be rude, but the student doctor was about 20, and I think he must have been on one of his first shifts in A&E. The problem was, as I’d come straight in from being in my PJ’s, they took them away and put me in a gown. My boyfriend was working and wasn’t there yet, and I wasn’t wearing any knickers! Also, (TMI!) I was on my period and was wearing a tampon. It was awkwardness all round and I’m not sure whose face was redder! He had a feel of my ankle, my upper thigh and diagnosed me with a strained groin. It’s probably my own fault for not making a bit more of a fuss. I was sent away after a dose of painkillers and some crutches, as I seriously, SERIOUSLY could NOT walk. I took the next day off work and assured them I’d be fine and I’d be back in the next day. As I was in bed, I asked my boyfriend for a glass of water and he left me to go to work. Remember, at this point we were still under the impression that I had a minor injury. What followed was unfortunately seven hours of lying prone in bed, unable to go to the toilet, to eat, or to even get myself a drink. I’d left my phone in the other room the previous night so was unable to call someone, too!

Thursday 11th September
The next day was worse. I’ve never, ever been in so much pain. I began vomiting from the pain, and was unable to take painkillers as I had an empty stomach. The best way to describe it is a white hot shoot of pain in my groin, down my leg and up my back but times like a million. Funnily enough, like I’ve heard about childbirth, I think I’ve blocked a lot of the pain out – I can describe it but not really recall it. By this point I was screaming in pain whenever I moved. I called 111 as at this point as my mum was going nuts, and we all realised that something just wasn’t right, and the service advised me to get to A&E within the hour. What a joke. Three hours later we turned up, after a lot of coaxing and pausing.  I would definitely win ‘slowest getting in and out of a taxi’ award. After two and a half hours of sitting on those awful metal seats at A&E, with pitying looks all round as I was in such pain, I was called. I was so thirsty and dehydrated from crying so much. The doctor who came to get me kindly got me a wheelchair but then tried to sort of lift me and sit me in it. I screamed and everyone was looking, cringe. In short, I got my X-ray and was very quickly diagnosed with a broken pelvis. It was a relief to know that something WAS wrong and I wasn’t just being a baby, and also to have some advice. I was sent home with some massively strong painkillers and my trusty crutches. Kurt kindly cooked at my request some plain pasta at 2am so I could take my painkillers and have a good night’s sleep.

Afterwards I was advised to rest, take painkillers, but at the same time, stay mobile.

Saturday 27th September
I went out for the first time today without my crutches. It was lovely, I felt so free. I went shopping, bought a few things. It’s nice to have a handbag, not a backpack. I went to a few places but went home quite soon (after about an hour) as I began to feel it. It’s only been a short while, but like the cliche, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I did notice that people were walking a lot closer to me and often pushing past which made me nervous as I’m still fragile! I didn’t realise how much of a wide berth people gave me whilst on crutches! I was walking about with a massive grin. Here’s to a full recovery!

Recovered (1/12/14): I wont be running any marathons soon (like I would anyway!), but I barely feel the pain now. What an experience. Really opened my eyes to what I have to be thankful for.

Afterword I just want to say a huge thank you for all the messages of support. For all the lovely people at work who’ve brought me tea and carried things for me when I couldn’t do it myself. For my mum who’s made me laugh and called me to check I’m not ‘sprinting about’. And to Kurt who’s been there from the beginning. Bringing me countless drinks, washing my hair for me that second night, helping me in and out of the shower, putting up with my awkward sleeping positions, and grabbing things for me when I couldn’t carry them with my crutches. I love you all.