Life Skills.

We always used to have these career days at school where you would brainstorm what skills you possessed and how these would determine what career you entered into. There would be a discussion with Madame Lott as to whether you had management skills, people skills; whether you were good with technology, good at memorising lots of facts and figures; good at maths, good at foreign languages and what careers you would be suited to you based on these apparent skills. My meetings were always rather brief. In my humble opinion aged 15 do you really have that many skills? And if you have acquired much more accomplished skills than myself, do you really know, at 15, what you want to do for the rest of your life? On reflection of my pathetic teenage self this is as skilled as it got:

- Cross the quad without dropping any of my books in the puddles, if I walked extra slow.

- Apply eyeliner faultlessly on a Friday afternoon, after spending all week with panda eyes.

- Miss my bus after games on a Tuesday afternoon because I couldn't get my tights on quick enough.

- Sing school hymns exceptionally well for an Indian.

- Spray my french homework in perfume so that I would continue to be one of Mr. Tomlin's 'fave girlies'.

- Recite Mean Girls from start to finish.

Was there more to life at 15? 

Oh and my personal favourite - I was so skilled I managed to get shat on by a really fat pigeon in the school car park one morning. It was so great that it was in my hair all down my school jumper and I was stood right next to the boy I really fancied whilst he hysterically laughed. Does life get any more skilled than that? 

I managed to tame the fro a litte for this picture. Life skill? Hell Yes. 

One year we took a career aptitude test, the whole year sat in the main hall pining their hopes and dreams and on essentially a reasoning test. I like everyone else was adamant the results were going to determine my entire future. Two weeks later everyone was eagerly awaiting their results to brag about how they were going to become a scientist or a lawyer or win a Nobel Peace Prize. So when I finally got my mitts on my results, I was rather disappointed with my predicted future. 

Careers based on results: 

1) Florist 

2) Hotel Manager 

3) Social Worker

Not exactly what I had expected. Was I to suddenly know my hydrangeas from my hyacinths?

Because 8 years later I still don't know the difference - I thought Hyacinth was a faux posh ageing lady who was adamant about keeping up appearances...apparently not. BBB was also less than impressed when he found out that 10 years of private school equated to arranging flowers.  

Hotel manager was a little more exciting. When I was little (well I've never really been 'little' perhaps younger is more apt) I always wanted my own chain of hotels. They were to be called 'The Five Oceans' (evidently an 8 year old's rip off of the Four Seasons) and there were going to be themed suits according to what ocean you were in. Hawaiian luaus in the Pacific Suites with floral walls and coconut water on tap. New York/London themed rooms in the Atlantic Suites with a Big Ben bed and Statue of Liberty bath robes. Obviously Indian rooms for the Indian Ocean Suites...with Indian things in there. Then my creativity went blank or I simply couldn't remember the other oceans. 

Think I could have been on to a winner. Maybe I should give Richard Branson a call see whether he would be interested in investing millions into an eight year old's dream.

As the end of 2013 draws to a close I decided to have a re think of my life skills. Upon reflection not much has changed. I'm still clumsy, I still can't apply eyeliner, it is however at this time of year that I continually sing carols exceptionally well - O Holy Night still belted out the best. Some say drowning cats, others say enthusiastic, I say... next Celine Dion? I suppose a skill I have acquired/ honed is the ability to write self deprecating matter on a fortnightly (when I'm good) basis. 

To my complete surprise the blog has done much better than I ever anticipated. Whilst initially my only consistent reader was Geeta (when I literally forced her to read it) I have now amassed over 90,000 views. When I delved a little deeper to see where these views had come from, to my amusement the post with the most amount of views was 'How to Lose Weight Fast' - clearly people really do google everything. 20,000 views and all they would have found out about losing weight fast is what happened to me when I got the flu. Lol. 

In the way of careers it has gone a little like this: 

Aged 5-16: Doctor. Then I realised I didn't understand any of A-Level chemistry. Rings and chains - what even is that.  

Aged 16 - 18: Classicist. I was going to discover something exciting or find gold and be rich. 

Aged 18- 21: Lawyer. As soon as I got to Uni I didn't want to be the next Mary Beard this was just my new unique way of becoming a lawyer, obvs - total sense. It was going to be great, I had it all planned - Classics was going to make me a more well rounded (no pun intended) lawyer. Life was going to be great. 

Aged 21-22: Career Unknown. Law school is horrendous, law is horrendous, I hate my statute book and I hate my case law book even more. Soz Baz I don't want part of the family business. 

Aged 22-23: Teacher. Seemed a logical route given the above...

PRESENT MODERN DAY NOW: Writer. 

Who would have guessed. Well, not to brag or anything but I did once win the Literature Cup at Stoneygate when I didn't even read the book. I think I would be quite happy to do this forever. Basically I want to be Caitlin Moran, have my own column, get paid to waffle on about mindless shit; but maybe a tad less feminist because I would still like to drool over Ryan Gosling without being chastised for showing a woman's weakness. 

Will this happen with my particular set of life skills? Who knows. I'll guess I'll just have to give it a whirl. 

Fatty BB xxx

The Night I Partied With Nicole.

Scherzy won't reply to my messages about grabbing a quick maccy's now though...awks.

There is a policy for this blog: Ask no questions, and I will tell no lies. (Publicly - if you ask me in private I will happily disclose my dirty little secrets).

So, I managed to wangle an invite for myself and Alex to attend the Sushi Samba One Year Anniversary Party (at is at this point we adopt our policy). Now I wasn't exactly invited by name but I had a hard copy of the invite and enough courage from Alex to attempt to blag it on the door. Believing I was Billie Big Balls I told them I was essentially a big deal, and quite shockingly they believed me... up to the 38th floor of the Heron Tower we flew.

We made it! 

We were greeted with free flowing Verve, a lot of beautiful looking people, even more edgy looking people and a chortling Nick Grimshaw entertaining his cronies. We obviously got as close as possible and pretended to join in on their Harry Styles related joke.

Our motto for the evening consisted quite simply of: BE COOL. BE COOL. BE COOL. (Not something that comes all too naturally). Whilst we only sampled one piece of sushi each (these cool kids act like they've never seen food before, I wasn't about to be the fat kid that deprived them), we certainly sampled our fair share of the champers. It was after we had guzzled a few pints of the Verve that a very awkward situation occurred.

Being Cool. 

Alex had left me (probably to stalk Grimmy under the guise of having a pee) and this woman kept looking at me and smiling - granted I had made an effort for the occasion but not one that really warranted strangers smiling at me. So I smiled back and did an awkward little wave, that appeared to summon her over - very cool. Before I knew it she had walked over to me and engaged in a conversation that went a little like this:

Smiling Lady: I love your coat!
Billie: Thank you - it's my favourite!
Smiling Lady: It's mine.
Billie: *feeling a little confused and wondering whether she was going to steal it from me*          Ummmm...no I don't think so - it's mine.
Smiling Lady: No, no, no. I'm Alice Temperley - I designed that coat.
Twatface: Ohhhhhh. It's my favourite. (well done, well incoherent just repeat what you previously said)
Alice Temperley: Well it looks great on you (bbrrrppppp) Have a good night!

I finally managed to pick my jaw up form the floor and shout behind her to have a good night too. Just call me a smooth operator.

THE COAT. 

A few more (clearly unnecessary) glasses of Verve meant two things:
1) We had made friends with the bar tender who constantly topped up our glasses before anyone else's.
2) We should have a dance since Neneh Cherry and Grimmy were playing and were supposed to be really into them...because the invitation told us to be.

A revelation: Apparently cool kids don't dance, they just shuffle along the dance floor shmoosing and air kissing - I think this was our give away that we weren't part of that crowd...

Smashing it.

All of a sudden Alex stops mind grind and turns to me and says to me 'Look who is directly behind you!" I turned around and BOOM there was... Scherzy in all her cat suit glory. 'Be cool' went straight out of the window and 'I lost my shit' tookover. She is without a doubt the most beautiful person I have ever seen (text me baaacccckkk Scherzy!) Alex played it cool and didn't whip out the phone, I on the other hand decided with only 4% batt (I know I was having palpitations too) I wasn't wasting my time with anymore sushi selfies I was getting Scherzy.

     

More dancing, more drinking and more laughing ensued and before I knew it, it was time for Cinderella to leave to ball. We arrived downstairs at the same time as Mark Francis who seemed to be shouting 'Where the fuck is my car?!'... to nobody. Giggling like school girls who had just crashed the party of the fit boy two years above we were greeted by a gaggle of paparazzi who were about to take our picture before they released...we weren't anyone worth writing a shit piece about in DM Online.

The night ended in Liverpool station scoffing fast food and getting a stitch from laughing after realising we were both smashed and had to be up for work in less than 6 hours - that part was not chic.

The next day at work I was suitably smug when I was telling everyone about my new BFF Nicole, until I was brought down a peg by picking up dry cleaning. Oh real world - I have not missed you.

London adventures continue...

Fatty BB xxx