LONDON.

Bonjour!

Well we made it! The Ace Gang are officially Londoners! After so much bloody effort, arguments, tears and Ugly Ginger spearing herself on barbed wire fences, we FINALLY moved.
As we speak, Ugly Ginger, Mr Pricklepants and myself are sitting in our London kitchen, discussing who Mr P would fancy if he could pick one of us (I secretly hope he says me, if only for my ego. Not for sexual reasons.) and Ugly Ginger is cooking us lasagne, like a good little housewife.
I must say we are all feeling slightly tender today - last night was our housewarming gathering, where I consumed a bottle and a half of wine, before trekking out in search of another bottle at the off license. I shall recommend a drinking game to you all - there are no real rules as such, just get very pissed and point and laugh at the knobheads in your group of friends (Ugly Ginger). It is called the Kitchen Utensil Game. One group member must whisper to the member on his left a kitchen utensil. The second member must then BE the utensil and the rest of the group must guess what it is. All was fun and games, until Petit Filous Bear had to be a sodastream - cue her slapping her head and then her arse, before collapsing into giggles. Not so accurate, then.
So far, we are enjoying London thoroughly. We have been to such places like Covent Garden, Harrods and Oxford Street. Mr Pricklepants and I wandered round Armani and such, exclaiming that they must have a sale on due to the items being so cheap. Londoners do not like us very much.
I also tried sushi for the first time and I must say I was impressed. I will be seeking out raw fish at every angle.
Other things of note:

1) PFB and I took a zumba class. For those who are unfamiliar, is a class with lots of black ladies salsa dancing and shaking their "booties" Beyonce style. PFB and I at back of class looking like two whitest girls in universe.

2) Ugly Ginger on tube. Is a wonder in itself. Hangs on to overhead railings with both hands like an ape.

3) High Horse's incessant baking. I am on diet yet being tempted with cakes, biscuits and other goodies at every angle. Finding it hard to resist so not bothering and eating them.

4) Mr Pricklepants is still listening to musicals at full blast, but has now introduced Rihanna into the equation. Have caught him several times dancing on Ugly Ginger's pole to Rihanna music. Think he may be cross dresser/secret pole dancer in evenings.

5) Ugly Ginger cocooning self in blanket due to cold temperatures. Wrapped very tightly she attempts to sit down, but blanket knocks her down in a rugby tackle-like motion into the fireplace. Much mirth.

6) Myself being accosted at local gym by male receptionists. Told me they like a girl with an accent but then called me a foreigner. Don't know what to say to that really.

7) Have had no couches for first week due to old ones being rotten and waiting on replacements. Have been sat on floor all week like peasants.

Apologies for the most boring blog I have possibly written, but stay tuned for our London adventures.

LOVE YOU
toodles xx

The blogs, they are a'changin'

I changed my blog. I realise that, as my readers, you aren't thickos, but I thought I should address it nonetheless. Tis my way of celebrating 2k11.

LOVE YOU

Home For The Hell-idays

Hello!

First of all may I wish you all the merriest of Christmasses and a very happy new year. I have travelled back up to the far North (Fife) for the festive season, and let me tell you, it's been anything but fucking festive.

Whilst in Carlisle I was very much looking forward to coming home to see my parents. Who wouldn't after spending 6 months working at Fawlty bloody Towers and living in a house with temperatures that rival the Arctic. I packed all of my belongings up and sent them away to Manchester to live in Petit Filous Bear's house, got in my car and sped up to Scotland, looking forward to getting home and putting my feet up and eating yummy food.

And then I arrived home.

Now you must understand something. I am a woman in my twenties, who is moving to London in a matter of days, with my own car and own life. My father, bless him, isn't aware of any of this information, and if he had his way, I would be electronically tagged so he would know my whereabouts at all times.  My mother is one of these women who is always in competition with someone or other. My uncle, about who has the nicest car; My auntie, about who has the cleanest house; ME, about WHO IS THINNER. I am not built to be skinny for two reasons. 1) I like cake and sweets, and 2) I have extremely large breasts (steady) and a massive arse. My mum is the same, but I think she forgets this, and has recently gone on a major diet and exercise regime to lose weight and shape up. Obviously I think this is fantastic for her, as a few years ago I lost a couple of stone. But the second I walk through the door, she says the following:

MUM : "I've bought you some gym passes on my membership. You're looking quite overweight at the moment and obviously because I've lost all this weight I want the same for you. I burned 350 calories today on the cross trainer and I had a weight watchers soup for my lunch today."

ME: "Hi Mum, I've just left my cases in the car."

No "hello", no "how was the drive?"

Just "you're looking quite overweight".

Bitch.

So I used her fucking gym passes and toddled off to the gym, only to discover that I have put on A STONE AND A HALF! This cannot be! I don't like cakes THAT much?! ... Joke. But seriously, I was devastated - that's nearly all of the weight I worked so hard to lose! Thus I am now depressed and going to the gym and eating celery and air in a bid to be a bit skinnier. I have also realised recently that I am a 45 year old woman and purchased Davina McCall's new workout DVD. I gave my brother the fright of his life when he walked in on me doing lunges in leggings and a sports bra.

As I'm sure my most avid readers are aware, I am moving to London this month. My fabby pals (Ugly Ginger, Mr Pricklepants and PFB) are journeying down to London over the next few days to view some houses which are suitable enough for us all to live in. I am tremendously excited, although completely aware that those Southern types are going to HATE me. I am Scottish, always extremely happy and constantly cracking (shit) jokes, therefore raining on their miserable little parade (soz to all of my Southern friends - you are all fabulous).

Reasons why I should not move home

1) Mother in constant calorie competition - "fat bitch" comments are being thrown about willy nilly.
2) Father plotting to strap tracking device round my middle (I'm sure if he had his way he'd use those reigns I see toddlers wearing).
3) One of my (SIX) dogs isn't house trained very well (he's deaf and fucking stupid) and is forever pissing all over my prized possessions. He is so cute but definitely has it in for me.
4) Constantly being snowed in due to ice age-like conditions in a house with limited hot water and (most of the time) no heating. Davina-cise has therefore been an effective warming up technique.
5) Since I have returned I have had extreme toothache to the point where I am considering bashing out with a rock caveman style. Obvious sign that Scotland is BAD.
6) Canny help eating cakes. Perhaps home is not the problem as I am a fat cow really but why not blame it while we're tugging at that thread.
7) No chance of shagging at any point due to creaky bed being right next to parents room. (Note to parents: can hear your fucking creaky bed by the way)
8) Missing my chums - very funny buggers who cheer me up. Bit shit when they are in a foreign country.
9) IT'S SHIT



Much love pals.

Toodles xx