You’re just jealous because I’m way hotter than you, and boys don’t even ACKNOWLEDGE you….


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So I’m back …and I’m back with terribly exciting tales!

Lol but not really.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been working and settling into my new apartment with Tim and Olivia.

God it was the best thing I’ve ever done!

The day I moved out Sophie was out shopping, so I packed everything up, brought them down to the giant taxi I’d ordered and just as I grabbed the last bag from the sitting room, in she walked.

Noticing that nearly everything in the apartment was missing (she’s very observant) she said, “Uhm what’s going on?”

“Oh nothing much,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m just moving out.”

Her mouth dropped open.

I’ve never seen that happen in real life before.

“Yeah, so here you go,” I said, with a smug smile, and dropped my keys into her hand. “Enjoy.”

“Eh no, you can’t just move out and take all the stuff,” she shrieked at me. “That’s stealing.”

Oh mother of God, after living with me for a month, she’s only realising that it was me providing all the crockery and the TV and whatnot.

“It’s not stealing when all the stuff belonged to me,” I said.

“Omg, no you have no right. Once you bring them into the apartment, they become the property of all the tenants,” she said folding her arms.

I turned around.

“Wait, you knew you were using my stuff the whole time? You didn’t think it came with the apartment?” I asked, shocked. “So when you were using all my stuff and not cleaning it or even sharing it, you knew it was mine and just thought it was your right and privilage?”

“I pay rent,” she said.

“Actually your parents pay rent,” I spat. “I also pay rent AND I put MY money into all the stuff you’ve just used ….oh and broken and not replaced.”

“I live here,” she pouted.

“Yeah well now you live here alone, so we’ll see how you get on without my stuff,” I said. “Oh and are you a complete idiot, Sophie? We lived together, we weren’t married, so how the hell do you have joint ownership of each others’ stuff!?”

“You’re so sad,” she shot back. “You’re just jealous because I’m way hotter than you, and boys don’t even ACKNOWLEDGE you. You’re desperate and such a loser! This is just because you’re sulking over the guy next door!”

I looked at her.

“You’re a pathetic,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “And yes, you’re right, I am a loser …but not because I’m not attractive. I’m a loser for ever thinking you were a friend or worth my friendship and loyalty.”

And with that, I walked out the door.

Man that felt good.

I tried to be her friend, I really did.

But I was kidding myself.

I was just flattered that someone as pretty and popular as her took an interest in me, and ignored the fact that it was because I was the Fat-n-Ugly Friend that made her look good, and was the loyal dog she could kick around without worrying I’d leave her.

Skipping down the steps, with a smile on my face due to my new-found backbone, I bumped into Hot Boy Next Door ….well Ex-Hot Boy Next Door.

“Uhm hi,” he said eyeing the bag in my hand. “Going somewhere?”

Standing up straight and lifting my chin haughtily, I replied, “Yes, to my new apartment”.

He looked shocked. “You’re moving?”

“Yes I am,” I said. “I’ve outgrown this place ….and its people,” and with that I walked down the stairs, out of the building and away from the old me….


Dear Blog…


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….even if it doesn’t seem it, I do love you dearly.

Life is pure madness right now and even though I started you as a release pour moi, you’ve become part of the life stress, and I’m plagued with a constant guilt for neglecting you.

So I think we need a break, blog.

It’s not you, it’s me.

You’re lovely.

I’m just not in the right place right now.

I’m no good for you!

So I’m suggesting two weeks apart so I can sort my head out and find myself.

Please don’t be sad!

I’m still here for you …..although if you text or ring or email or sing outside my window during the next 14 days, I will ignore you, because it wouldn’t be a break if I actually had contact with you!



Just bubbling over with Ideas ….


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What a beautiful day!

How lovely the rain looks!

How breathtaking the gale-force wind it!

And oh, those mud water splashes look really good on my tights!

The new apartment is GORGEOUS! And surprisingly big for the surprisingly reasonable rent!

I’ve spent the last two days secretly moving stuff from my room to the new place with the help of Olivia and her car.

Am I going to warn Sophie?

Yup, just as I’m handing her my keys and wishing her good luck with all the rent and the new lease!

(I should add that I’m not horribly cruel by lumping her with rent for a two-bed apartment because her parents are LOADED and stupid and give her a lot of money ever week!)

Work is pleasant too!

Spent lots of time looking at Interior Design Blogs and am just bubbling over with ideas.

I’m in SUCH a good mood and even muttered a ‘Hello’ at Christopher ….which he didn’t reply to …..mainly out of shock, I think, judging by the look on his face …..

And we would never say it in front of other people


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First of all, blog, I’m terribly sorry for neglecting you for the last week.

It’s not that I don’t love you anymore, but I was having some emotional issues and I needed some space to think and grow ….and eat buckets of ice cream without you making me feel guilty with your judging.

So I didn’t see Sophie for a couple of days after our clash and I think this was a good thing. I’ve called her my best friend for so long now, when really I’ve just been kidding myself. Random people in my office have been nicer to me than she’s been.

She’s always used to me to make herself look better and I guess I just had too little confidence to ever cop on to it. When she made fun of my looks or shyness in front of people, I always assumed I was just being over-sensitive, but really I was being bullied by the girl I called my best friend.

Blog, I’m sorry that I’ve brought down the hilarity of the blog in recent posts, but I guess there are some things that can’t be made funny and this is one of them.

Olivia and Tim came over on Saturday night and we watched X Factor and drank homemade cocktails. During the drunken haze, both my friends admitted they never like Sophie and were only nice to her because I had such a high opinion of her.

“See Char, we know you’re a bit of a mess, but we love you and we would never say it in front of other people,” said Tim, quite sensibly while staring over my shoulder at the double-vision me he was seeing.

“Exactly,” agreed Olivia who was sitting on the floor cutting her toenails (she’s an odd drunk). “We’re good friends. We’ll tell you to your face if you’re being ridiculous but we don’t use it to humiliate you!!!” She looked at me for a second, steadying her eyes so she could make actual eye contact. “She’s a user and a bitch. Yeah, she probably thinks you’re grand, but really it’s that you’re too nice to stand up to her and so she can use and abuse you to make herself feel better!”

My drunken friends are so wise.

“Charlotte, Olivia and I have been talking,” said Tim, stumbling to the couch and sitting beside me.

Olivia nodded enthusiastically.

“You know we were thinking of moving out together since Olivia hates her parents and I hate my orgy-loving roommate and during our research, we’ve come across a number of lovely 3-bed apartments. And you know, since your lease is up at the end of the month, we were thinking you could not renew it, and leave Bitch Face here alone, while you can come and live with us,” he said.

“Yes yes yes yes, say YES!” shouted Olivia.

Let’s just think about this:

  • A change of scenery would be great.
  • Getting away from Sophie would be great.
  • Avoiding having to kick her out of the apartment would be great.
  • Not having to see Hot Boy Next Door everyday after his obvious rejection of me would be great.
  • Having my actual best friends as roomies would be great.

I can’t see a downside!

“YES OF COURSE I WANT TO MOVE IN WITH YOU GUYS!!!” I said jumping on Tim and smoothering him with a hug, while grabbing Olivia into the fray with a flailing arm.

So there you have it. They found a great building in the city that they were going to live in, and they still have 3-bedroom apartments left, so we’re moving in this weekend!

I don’t think I’ll even BOTHER telling Sophie …..

Maybe he likes girls who can actually talk to the opposite sex


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Hello Blog,

I know I said I would talk to you yesterday, but quite frankly I was still too emotional and traumatised and distraught to speak about what has happened.

I’ll begin…

So I came home from work on Monday night as I normally do; battled with my dodgy front door lock, tripped over Ginger, threw my bag and coat wherever and went to the kitchen to make tea and a dinner of some sort.

So has I’m stirring the sugar into my tea (there’s a method: heat cup, add Lyons teabag, pour hot water from a great height, stir and squeeze bag with speed, stir in sugar so it disolved properly, add milk gradually while stirring), in walks Sophie in a super clingy skin dress (not actually made from skin, but she might as well have been naked!). Her hair is all hairsprayed into a Just Had Crazy Sex In The Bathroom tossled look and she’s wearing sultry red lipstick, the kind that usually makes me resemble a clown.

“Oh hey Charlotte,” she said, hunting around for her bag, while trying to close the clasp on her watch. “I didn’t hear you come in”.

“Yeah, just walked in the door there,” I said, and then I added all nonchalantly, “So, are you going out?”

“What? Oh yeah, just going to a gig,” she said, looking under the couch and waving her stupid perky bum at me.

Talk about betrayl! She didn’t HAVE to invite me to her gig, but she could have at least told me she was going and made a half-assed attempt to invite me along, while making it clear she’d rather go alone so I’d kindly decline her offer, but be glad she loved me enough to invite me to something she didn’t want me to go to like a GOOD friend.

“Oh, really?” I said, trying to sound all Whatever, while sipping my tea. “Anything decent?”

“Uhhhhhmmmm…..” she stalled, looking behind a chair. “Uhm, it’s nothing major, just a couple of up-and-coming bands playing. There it is!” she shouted, waving her bag in the air.

Up-and-coming bands!??

“Oh right,” I said, as the metaphorical light in my head switched on. “And who are you going with?” I asked.

“Uhmmmm …..oh, you know,” she said, taking her compact mirror out of her bag and fixing her fringe.

Yeah I think I did, but…

“No, Sophie, actually I don’t,” I replied.

She looked up at me for the first time since she’d entered the room. “Omg Charlotte, you’re not being all bitchy just cos just weren’t invited!? Are you 9-years-old?”

“Well, first of all, as a friend I would’ve expected some sort of invite, yeah. Or if it was something you didn’t want me at, you could’ve explained that too! I’d do that for you!” I said.

She snorted. “When? Like the two times you go out a year? News Flash, I’m normally the reason you go out on the rare occasion you do!”

Wow, my best friend is a bitch.

“Who are you going with, Sophie?” I asked again.

“Whatever,” she said, flicking her hair and heading for the door.

“You can’t even face telling me you’re going with Him, can you?” I said. “You are actually quite possibly the worst friend ever.”

“Oh what!? You think cos you let me move in, you OWN me or that I OWE you something?” she shouted.

“No, but as a friend I figured you owed me some loyalty!” I shouted back.

“So just because you’ve been obsessing over a guy you’ve lived across the hall from for a YEAR and never made a move on and probably never WILL, I’m not allowed go on a date with him even though he was ALL OVER ME!?” she screamed.

I froze.

“Yeah that’s right,” she said. “He asked me. One conversation and I got a date with him. Maybe he likes girls who can actually talk to the opposite sex. Grow up, Charlotte.”

She turned and walked out of the room.

I decided to take the higher mature road, and as soon as I saw her leave the building, I put my coat on and went to the shop to buy a tub of Phish Food.

Was she always a bitch and I’m only seeing it now?

Or is she right and I’m being selfish.

Right now, the only thing I’m sure of it that a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, followed by a pizza, followed by a bottle of wine is NOT a healthy combination for your stomach.


With a sob and my arm thrown over my face


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Am currently consuming my weight in ice cream and cupcakes.

Will explain 2moro.

Want to be one of those old Hollywood stars, who throw themselves down on beds and couches dramatically and cry and beat the upholstery.

Would also very much like to run from rooms with a sob and my arm thrown over my face.

Those old dames really knew how to handle a bad event.

I’m a healthy boost to her quiet social life


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To: Blog

Subject: Friends!?!???!?!?!?!?!?

Message: So last night as I was walking to my room. As I stepped into the hall, I could hear giggling. I like giggling! So in a fit of nosiness and desperation-to-be-loved-and-accepted, I grabbed Ginger so it looked like I was bringing him out for some fresh air. I opened the door and there was Sophie, my dearest darling bessie, giggling and twirling her hair and playfully touching Hot Boy Next Door’s chest and arms and face and whatever else she could get her hand on.

“Oh ….hey Char,” she said, removing her hand from his upper arm epidermis and looking not looking at all ashamed. That HARLOT! “I’m just getting better acqainted with our neighbours.” She gave him a wink. OH JUST TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF WHY DON’T YOU!!

“Hey Charlotte,” he said smiling. “Sophie was telling me you took her in. That was really nice of you!”

“Oh well, it’s not like I was a charity case,” said Sophie quickly. “She LOVES living with me, and couldn’t find any other roomies anyway! Plus, I’m a healthy boost to her quiet social life.” She glanced at Ginger. “Where are you off to?”

Sophie ….you’re title is Best Friend, not Best Person At Making Me Look Like A Loser.

“I’m just letting Ginger out for some fresh air,” I muttered, heading for the stairs.

She giggled. “Wild!”

By the time I got back they were gone, and although my first presumption was that she was probably giving him a lapdance somewhere, when I got into the apartment I could hear her humming in the kitchen alone.


It was the size of a dog AT LEAST…


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So I’m sitting on the Luas this morning.

This is not drastically out of the ordinary.

In fact, I spend quite a large amount of time on the Luas.

Once in the morning …to get to work.

Once in the late afternoon …to come home from work.

Maybe twice again in the evening …if I happen to have a life that day.


What was out of the ordinary was that I was wearing a bodycon high-waisted denim skirt.

I never wear really tight clothes and I especially never wear tight on-the-short-side skirts.

But Sophie convinced me to buy it when we met up during my lunch for a ramble around Topshop. I was looking for something a bit different so when she suggested it and I didn’t look too hideous, I impulsively bought it!

So this morning I paired it with a lovely white knit and black tights and felt quite attractive for once!

However as I walked to the Luas, I realised that tight skirts tend to ride up and my already short skirt was getting shorter and shorter …eeeep!

No panic though, cos I was wearing a long coat (it was raining …shocker!), but when I got on the Luas, I was far too hot to keep it on. So I slid the coat off as gracefully as I could and grabbed a seat in the nearest 4-seater (two seats facing two seats facing), covering my legs up with my handbag and coat.

It was an uneventful journey …nothing to report, until …..

We arrived at the Jervis Street stop, which is the stop before mine, and as it was still raining I put my coat back on and plonked my handbag on my lap so I looked a little more lady-like.

And then I noticed the guy facing me look at my legs.

Hmph …perv.

And then he said “….*inaudible muttering* legs” and pointed at my thighs!

Now I know my skirt isn’t as repectful as I initially thought, but dear GOD, no one has a right to perv to THAT extent!

“Excuse ME!?” I snapped.

“There’s something on your leg,” he repeated, in what turned out to be an adorable Monaghan accent (think Scottishy but softer).

So I looked down and there was this …THING! It was the size of a dog AT LEAST and was brown and beetle-shelled and had pincers and a giant stinger and fangs and giant spikes on its back and crazy eyes!!!!!!! AND IT WAS CRAWLING ALONG MY THIGH!!!!!

I screamed and instinctivly flicked the THING with my hand …..but flicked it in the direction of the guy who’d warned me and the innocent woman who was sitting beside him, both of which started searching their immediate persons and the area around them for this made-for-horror-film creature!

I covered my mouth with my hands. “Oh my God …Oh my God …I’m so so sorry!!!! I just ….Panicked!!!” I babbled.

The woman look PISSED, but the guy just smiled and said “Ah it’s alright, don’t worry about it”, while still looking around a little nervously.


I need to shower or something.

As soon as the metaphorical bell rang, I was legging it out of the office


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Oh guys …..oh my deary darling guys ….

What a weekend …WHAT A WEEKEND!!!!

So, I headed into work on Friday, like I do.

It was an uneventful morning: I answered phones, sent important-sounding emails, chewed my nails and stared out the window …the usual!

And then, at 12:43pm, I received an email.

The email said the following:


I am SO done with Greece. Will be on a plane in approx 3 hours. Will be at your apartment sometime tonight.

Love Soaps.

I couldn’t believe it!

I was going to be reunited with my bestest best friend before the day was through ….probably even before I thought of making my bedtime cup of hot chocolate!

Man, I couldn’t sit still all day! As soon as the metaphorical bell rang, I was legging it out of the office and down to Luas. MOVE FASTER LUAS! I’D BE QUICKER WALKING!!!! Light rail, my arse! There are SNAILS passing us out!!!!!

As soon as the tram pulled to my stop, I hopped out and ran over to The Square for some AWESOME food shopping in Tescos: nachos, Pringles, Ben and Jerry’s, jellies, WINE, cupcakes, bread and cheese (for the traditional Toasted Cheese), loads of Lyons teabags (just in case we run out!), pizzas, cookie dough, cooked cookies … was Celebration Time, CMON!!!!

Struggling home under giant shopping bags, I was the happiest I’d been in ages: I practically skipped up the two flights of stairs to my apartment! (lol, that is a TOTAL exaggeration!!!)

I even bumped in Hot Boy Next Door on the way up and managed to make awesome cool conversation.

“Hey Charlotte”

“Hi” .…I still don’t know his name!

“Been shopping?”

“Yup, my best mate is arriving tonight!”



*pause* “Yeah so I better go”

“Cool, later!”

I am SO smooth, it hurts! 😀

I dashed around the apartment cleaning everything and anything in my path! I ran into the spare room and throw open the window and ran around flapping my arms in an attempt to clear out the musty unused smell! I made up the bed and threw in some spare cushions and throws to make it look more ‘bedroomy’!

Sophie arrived in a whirlwind at about 9pm, shrieking with joy and we did that huggy-jumping  thing to show how super-excited we were to see each other. Suitcases were dragged in a dumped in the hall and we stayed up all night catching up and just laughing! She couldn’t stand the bleakosity of her Grecian suburb and her hideous au pair family, and after they tried to dump their friend’s four kids, as well as their own two, on her during the one night she was supposed to have off in about a month. So she lost the rag, packed up her stuff and marched out.

How rockstar of her!

After grabbing some lovely sleep during Saturday afternoon, she decided she absolutely had to go to a club that night, having been deprived of such fun for a very long time!

So we both got ready in my room to boost the fun and girliness of the night and headed out after downing a large amount of wine!

Great night!

And great all-day sleep on Sunday!

Yay life!!!!

Cos my forehead pumps sweat like a waterfall


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I’m a terrible person!

I have abandoned my principles and beliefs.

I can barely look at myself in the mirror.

I’m hideous.

I’m foul.

I …..

….have joined a gym!

I know, I know.

I’ll understand if you don’t want visit my blog anymore.


Don’t let me corrupt you any further!!!!

So Olivia finally persuaded me to join her in our local gym, after the weekend where she had loiter on the the stairs of my apartment block for five minutes, while I rested on the steps to catch my breath. The second floor is REALLY high up!

I had hoped she’d forget, but she showed up all sporty and bouncy and enthusiastic yesterday, and the peppy wench wouldn’t take no for an answer.

I figured if I have to sell my soul to The Gym Man, then I might as well do it in style and spent about an hour picking my outfit, while Olivia stretched and looked irritated. I’m not going to deny I was trying to annoy her into abandoning me, but she’s so bloody stubborn that she just stayed and nagged me into hurrying up.

So decked out in black leggings, a giant Paris top from Topshop and lace-up plimsoles (see below), I trudged, in protest, to the Building of Evilness and Death (also known as the Gym).

Oh and I had a cool black Fame-type headband, cos my forehead pumps sweat like a waterfall and I didn’t want my fringe to look disgusting!

So after parting with my precious money for the first month’s memberships, I threw my bag into a locker in the changing room (what is WITH all the naked women walking around in their!! WE’RE NOT IN ANCIENT ROME, PEOPLE! COVER UP!) and went to the place with the machines. I say this cos when Olivia abandoned be for her Spinning Class, I immediately got lost and walked into a scary weights area which contained lots of sweaty men and heavy stuff that made my back give out just looking at it!

I didn’t want to pull a muscle or tear a ligament so I decided to take it easy on one of those sit-down bike things, but after about 3mins and 24secs I got really bored and decided to try out the arm-and-leg-swinging machines, but that just made me really sweaty so after 4min and 07secs, I dismounted that contraption and headed for a treadmill…which I walked on, because I’ve terrible balance and tend to panic and fall when I run.

So I strolled ….and then I walked ….and then I walked a little faster. That was all good and grand, and I lasted about 10mins on that. But I didn’t want to overwork myself considering I’m so fragile (and was starving!!!) so I hit the Stop button and then fell on my face.

That’s right.

On my face.

Nobody tells you that when you press Stop, it doesn’t actually stop.

No it slows to a stop.

So when you hit Stop and you stop, the machine is still moving so you go sailing off the thing!

Which I did.

And then I ran away.