Yes, it is I, your favourite Twitter disaster, returning for yet another week of trying really hard to tell you all the fun and incredible things I have been doing in lockdown. I say trying, because the reality of this is that I have done nothing but sit at home and tweet. I did leave the house on Tuesday to drive to Asda and to pick up a click and collect, that was a fun thirty-four minutes. Yes, I counted, because what else have we got to do right now??
Life in lockdown is really boring, and it’s quickly becoming very repetitive, right? Unless you’re my neighbour, who has just cranked up the volume on Ms Dions All By Myself. A true classic, a fitting theme for the current times, however I cannot help but fear one of two outcomes. The first, which is probably more bearable, is that my neighbours have finally cracked. The second, and the one I fear the most, is that this is about to become a new routine of theirs. Am I about to face life with a daily song at lunch time? So loud that I am sure people on the overside of Europe are too, singing along whilst wondering when this is going to end.
Elsewhere this week, I have once again been complaining about my oranges. I am indeed, referring to Animal Crossing. We are three weeks into the game since its release, and I am heavily contemplating restartin. Is this advisable? Am I going to completely regret it three minutes after restarting and being greeted with Tom Nooks smug, money making face once again? Stay tuned to find out, I suppose. I think the beauty of Animal Crossing is that you can restart it and improve each time with the knowledge of your previous play, however the thought of going through the same repetitive start up just sends fear through my body because, and I cannot stress this enough, I hate Tom Nook with every ounce of my existence.
Applications for the North-West Nightingale hospital have also opened this week, and they are looking for a full team of staff from doctors and nurses to administration assistants and ward clerks. Feeling like I couldn’t sit behind and do nothing anymore, I have decided to throw my hat into the ring and see what happens. Mainly because of my nature; I want to be there on the front line fighting this with the best of them, but also because I cannot take another week sat at home with my family. I love them, believe me, I adore them, but I don’t adore them enough to listen to my mum give a second daily briefing which is just a script of the first daily briefing with a few emotive adjectives thrown in whilst my dad sings another 80’s dance song with the dog in the kitchen.
I’ve also been binging a lot of How to Get Away With Murder. Mainly in the bath, which has led me to two conclusions. First of all, how does Annalise keep getting herself into situations where she, a lawyer, has to get herself and the Keating 5 out of murder, As lawyers, shouldn’t they know better than to bash someone over the head or suffocate them with their bare hands? Surely the getting away with murder should be done at the time in making sure there is no forensic evidence, no traceable motive etc? Secondly, and my hope for somebody at Netflix to read this, a question – is there no way I can press ‘Yes I am still watching’ from my phone when i’m in the bath so that my laptop on the toilet seat continues? I am tired of turning my bathroom into a modern day Titanic.
And finally, to the highlight of my week. A dating disaster story that has left many of you feeling full of laughter, and a little bit happier about life, because you realised that no matter how bad life gets for you, it’ll never be as bad as the time I threw up all over my date, naked. For those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter, first of all you should come and join the fun, second of all here is the run down. When I was younger, I was told that fish look sad because we eat their family for tea. That scarred me enough to never eat fish again, I feel terrible for all those fish fingers I once devoured. Fast forward many, many years and a boy that I have been dating offers to cook for us. Nobody has ever cooked for me before, so naturally I declare my heart and hole for this man, and I am ready to be whatever he wants to be and more. I tell him to cook whatever he wants, since he is the one doing the actual cooking. He offers a three course meal, the main consisting of fish. I just love fish, how did you know? I tell him as I can already feel my tastebuds retreating. He cook fish. We have wine. Things begin heating up so we take it to the bedroom where I am hit with a sudden fear of throwing up. You know when your head shrinks inside itself and your throat gets that presick dry wetness? Yes. That. I make my excuses and go to the bathroom where I am violently throwing up the main course. He hears me, because nothing about me is subtle, and comes to me aid with water and head pats. Still naked, we lie on the floor where I decide to open up to him about why I was sick. He laughs. I laugh. He laughs harder. I laugh harder. He laughs even more. I throw up all over his naked body. We stop laughing. I did get two more dates out of it, and sometimes he drops me a message reminding me of the time I threw up my dinner all over the chefs naked body. But there we are. Welcome to the world of dating me. In sharing this on Twitter, I realised that I was my own cockblock, and that I am destined to spend my life alone.
Some of you seemed to love my suggestion of listening to Banks last week, I am glad that my music taste isn’t totally terrible. As a thank you, I present to you a new artist for you to discover over the course of the next seven days; Ryan Beatty. His latest album Boy in Jeans is an easy summer listen about his relationship with a boy. Start with the track Powerslide and go from there.
Until next week, hopefully there will be nothing fishy that comes up. x