Dirty minds.

Happy Easter!
Or
Happy chocolate day!
Or…
Happy Sunday!

I just popped downstairs to start work, oh yeah I’m dedicated *flicks hair and manages to flick herself in the eye* and I notice my mum outside, in the garden, trimming our small little shrub. I asked her what she was doing and if she needed help and she replied with…

“It’s fine darling, I’m only trimming my bush”

PAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Apparently I’m the one with the dirty mind…

Anyway happy chocolate eating or whatever you lovely people are doing :) I shall be consuming as much chocolate as my body can take because I believe in embracing culture and tradition until you are violently sick.

Bush…lol.

Maybe I’m doing ok.

I have really surprised myself these last couple of weeks. I’ve adapted to life as I now know it and it hasn’t been that bad. It really is amazing what we can do with the right mentality and a clearer grasp on reality.

Maybe we all need to take some time, even if it is just five minutes at lunch, just to sit quietly and gain some perspective. Sit quietly and just…sit. Take it all in, register events, realise feelings, acknowledge people’s existence in your life and just accept it.

Take a deep breath and let all the anger and bitterness out. Being bitter is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to feel the effect…it will only eat you up.

There is never a problem that cannot be fixed and there is never a situation that cannot be resolved. Have enough faith in yourself that you deserve more than this, right now, whatever it is. Life owes you nothing but freedom. Use yours wisely.

Writing a novel.

I’ve been thinking today, I want to write a novel about my recent experiences and not share the money with the people who are involved in those experiences. Is that okay? Can I do that? I’d put it towards something important like…pizza. I’m kidding. I’d move out and then buy pizza. I’ve got priorities guys.

I’d make the book funny because I’m funny when I type…or maybe I’m just sarcastic. In real life I’m a jumbling reck who has a better relationship with the pizza delivery guy than with any other guy she’s known. I could make a made up name too so nobody would know! Oooo a secret book.

I like how I’m literally thinking up all this shit as I’m typing it, it’s like “you are coming along on this emotional journey with me through literature”. Look! I’ve even got the interview lingo sorted. Call Vogue. Call Oprah. Call Jonathan Ross. I’m ready for my close up and my ‘tell all’ interview. Let’s make millions darling..

Bob the bumble bee.

Aimee’s dad, on one fine Friday morning, was busy in the garden. He had left the back door open so insects were flying in and out freely, much to Aimee’s mum’s annoyance. When her dad returned from the garden there was a bee on the window sill, he watched it for ten minutes whilst sipping a glass of cold lemonade. The bee didn’t move during these ten minutes so Aimee’s dad assumed that the poor bee had gone to bee heaven *awww*. Even though her dad is a roughty toughy builder, he doesn’t like insects so he thought of a great master plan…he would hoover up the dead bumble bee.

That all would’ve been great, except for one thing. THE BEE WASN’T FUCKING DEAD. That’s right Bob the sodding bumble bee must’ve been snoozing and managed to wake up during his hoover ordeal and fly out of Henry the hoover, in a fashion that I can only assume was like ‘The Great Escape’. Poor Bob was so exhausted he was lying on the kitchen floor ready for an unexpected AIMEE to walk in. Aimee has a slight phobia of bees and wasps so it was definitely not love and first sight between the two. She screamed like a five year old and stood hopping from foot to foot pointing at a hyperventilating bee until her mum came and saved the day.

Moral of the story: men are fucking useless, using a bloody hoover? Oh please…

THE END.

How was your day?

A fatal toxic inhalation.

When Aimee wants a lie in this means that her mum stomps about upstairs as if she is impersonating an elephant.

When Aimee wants to have a shower this means that her brother takes the mother of all shits and leaves behind a smell that is both sickening and toxic.

And…
When Aimee plans an essay day/night she will be invited to a surprise evening out that she has to dress ‘poshly’ for (I shall let you know all about it!).

I’m Aimee by the way. Hey. 3 little notes before the day has really started. I shall venture into the bathroom to see if I can bare to stand in it without holding my breath now. If I don’t make it out, be sure to write that the cause of death was ‘a fatal toxic inhalation’.

Flesh eating happiness.

You’ll be pleased to know I am no longer depressed Aimee. I am now someone who listens to Destiny Child’s ‘Survivor’ on repeat and watches gangster man films to harden herself up. Did you know you can kill two people at once with a gun? Me neither. Apparently the bullet goes right through the first person’s head and into the next. Pretty unfortunate for wanker number 2 who thought he was safe. PA. HA. HAAAA.

Anyway, so as of today I begun ‘Operation Happiness’ and I started off well; with a McDonald’s breakfast. I don’t feel guilty, my strawberry milkshake went down a treat. I then moved on to arse whipping my debit card until it screamed “NO MORE PLEASE, IT HURTS”. I bought pretty things. Lovely pretty things. It’s a shallow happiness but it feels good. I then returned home to find a bouquet of flowers on my doorstep and a note. Safe to say that it’s definitely the little things in life that make you smile.

But that’s enough about me, how are you? Tell me in the comments, let’s have a chat :)

I normally sign off with a quote from a student so here we are:

Miss if I eat human flesh that has been made in a laboratory then is that cannabalism?

I’ll be reading about him in ten years time:

“Boy survives on human flesh as Essex churns out it’s very own Sweeney Todd”

Brilliant.
Fucking brilliant.

Screw all the memories I’ve ever made.

This is why I hate making memories with other people.

I’m the memory making type of girl. I love taking a photo or going somewhere new with someone and then keeping the tickets or something sentimental of the day and putting it my memory box. But from now on I’m making them alone or with family because this way I won’t regret making them.

Every time I eat something, get an email about something in particular or go somewhere that’s it BAM! I’m straight back there. Back to reliving how I felt at the time and realising how fucking stupid I was. I thought I was queen of the bloody world “love does conquer all! Look at my happy ending”. What a load of bullshit. I’m the worlds most gullible person who has the scars to prove it but like hell am I letting you close enough to see them.

People spoil the memories. Love spoils everything and leaves you lonely and afraid of ever falling that hard again. I’ll make memories alone, I quite like me; I’m a bit cynical but I’m honest and I’m tired of being let down.

I sound angry. I’m angry at myself. Poxy memories. Stupid Aimee. Make me a time machine.

Monday’s male genitals.

Life can be a right load of bollocks sometimes. Your life okay? That’s probably because I’ve got your shit. I’ve got everyone’s. I’m nice like that. I hoard it, like the freak I am. My phrase today was:

If I were a bird, I know who I’d shit on

The poxy gas men are still outside, I can’t park my car on my driveway, I’ve just had a 3 hour nap and apparently I’m friends with people who have NO SOCIAL AWARENESS or EMOTIONAL AWARENESS.

Life can be a right load of bollocks sometimes. So I’m going to live off white chocolate, read Bridget Jones and consequently die alone.

I’ve sworn a lot. I apologise.

A day like mine.

So today has been one of those days.

It started off with a lie in that commenced at around 6:45am this morning. THIS IS NOT A LIE IN. It was barely a sleep. But you know…whatever. “It’s not like a need a bagillion hours of beauty sleep anyway” say the bulging bags under my eyes.

Then I ask my brother to go and buy our mother a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ gift bag while he was out today. Turns out men can’t shop for present accessories because he returned home with a ‘Happy Birthday’ bag and replied with “I just saw it was pink”. Knob. That’s all he had to do. Well I’ve learnt my lesson. I WILL DO EVERYTHING. Knob.

And then last but certainly not least. The most embarrassing moment of my existence so far on a planet that insists on making my life a common joke to those who are around me.  I’ll give you the shortened version:

  1. Mum and Dad told me that ‘Jack and Kath’ have gone on a holiday so if we need to park on their driveway at all during that time then that’s fine.
  2. Conveniently our pavement down our road is being torn up at the moment, by gas men who speak a very limited amount of English, “Hola pretty girl” was my first interaction with said men. This apocolyptic style catastrophe going on outside has blocked our driveway so this offer was very…convenient.
  3. I have lived in this house for 10 years. Or a decade if you will. To my knowledge, Jack and Kath live next door.
  4. I popped out this morning and decided to park on their driveway.
  5. Turns out Jack and Kath do not live next door, they live two doors down.
  6. We gets a knock at the door from our next door neighbours who are bemused as to why I am parked ON THEIR drive and blocking their garage door.
  7. My next door neighbours are not Jack and Kath but Pete and Ann who are not on holiday.
  8. I removed my car from their driveway with a bright red face and wearing a Christmas inspired onesie. I squeezed out an apology and have since vowed to never drive again.

You know when you think you’re done with being a twat? You’re probably not.

 

Doggy cuddles.

What’s really important is to know when your time is up. When you realise your purpose no longer exists and you’re no longer needed. That’s the time to remove yourself. Breakaway and don’t look back. Mend your heart. Man the fuck up and get on with life. Life owes you nothing. We are the masters of our own life and we make our own decisions.

On a lighter note I had a dream that I owned an adorable puppy that, when it was called, came bounding up to me and placed it’s paws on my shoulders and hugged me. I WANT IT. I want it so badly that the fact this puppy doesn’t exist is actually making me moody.
I also had a dream that I was lead into a maze and left there. I enjoyed that dream…almost as much as I enjoyed waking up in a cold sweat.

I’m a mess. I’m changing this and I’m just as pleased as you are.