Girl Power.

In a previous blog I wrote about how I'd been watching a lot of television recently. This goes hand in hand with the blog I am about to write. Step forward the Spice World movie. It was on last night on Viva, and repeated again this afternoon. Normally I wouldn't recommend being ill over Christmas, but I'm starting to realise that it has its benefits. I've watched the Spice Movie twice within 24 hours without even having to get up and swap the dvd. Win.

Let's go back, back in time, to when I was about 8. I freaking loved the Spice Girls. As you well know, my name is Emma, and Baby Spice had the same name. She was obviously therefore my favourite, well joint favourite with Posh. Obvo. I had their albums (on cassette - how retro!) their calendar, the photos you collected, the dolls, the big yellow puffa jacket, and the black one, the platform shoes, the duvet cover, pens and pencils and pretty much any other Spice Memorabilia that was on offer. Like I said, I LOVED them!

So imagine my absolute delight when on Boxing Day of 1997 the Spice World movie was released in cinemas, of course I went with my family in tow, Mum, Dad and a 3 year old Liam. I was mesmerised from the very first minute. It was pure brilliance. The acting wasn't so great, but I for one didn't give a hoot. The storyline had my chuckling away in my uncomfortable cinema seat. My dad genuinely fell asleep, my brother cried and my mum said she was bored, but deep down I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it a tiny bit. She's a girl after all, she's got Girl Power. Anyway I loved it so much I demanded to watch it again. So I did, straight after watching it the first time. I was a happy girl. My favourite line from the entire film and one that I have remembered ever since is one of Victoria's. It's in the part where she's driving the bus around London in a rush to get to their concert, which they are late for. And they attempt to drive over the London Tower Bridge, as it's opening to let a boat under. HORROR. She screams "Hold onto your knickers, girls." Looking back this really isn't that amusing at all, but at the time I was crying with laughter, literally. I had tears rolling down my little 8 year old chubby cheeks, which were probably stuffed with popcorn at the time. Other favourite lines include Victoria shouting "AND I'M VICTORIA MALCOLM." "The little Gucci dress. The little Gucci dress. Or the little Gucci dress?" and "I had a dream but it was much worse. I had a head... But it had no make up on it." All of which are VB and EB quotes, told you they were my favs!

Watching the film back last night and I was transported back to my childhood. It was nice, hearing all their songs again. I'm not ashamed to admit that I still knew all the words and have subsequently had my Spice Girls playlist on repeat (much to my Brother's annoyance when I took him out earlier.) The conversation went a little like this "Em, why are we listening to this rubbish?" "You're a boy. You don't have Girl Power. You wouldn't understand. Now shut up." "You're 21, get over it!" "Zigga Zig Ahhh." "Oh God." *puts his earphones in, so I turn the radio up louder.* I remember listening to their albums on repeat (mainly because they were one of about 3 albums that I actually owned.) I used to prance around in my platform shoes, my hair in bunches and often sucking on a Chupa Chup wishing my last name was Bunton.

It's coming up to 3 years since I went and saw them live at o2. Twice. Even then, at 18 I was an over-excited mess. Dancing whilst screaming back all the songs to them. It was without a doubt my favourite concert I've ever been to. Yep, they beat Britney. In my excitement last night I may have accidently spammed Vicky B on Twitter. Reminding her of how she waved to us, and how if she replies it will be even better. I'm still awaiting her reply! She's obviously busy making me a special video message or something... Anyway the only thing left to say on this topic is that The Spice Girls were and always will be the best girl group. And that bitches, is a Fact (note the capital F.)

Now, whilst I'm on the topic of brilliant films, Mary Poppins is currently on. Julie Andrews is an absolute Goddess. I also love her. I wish we were related, or at the very least friends, so that we could embark on country walks up hills and run around on the top with our arms spread wide open singing "The Hills Are Alive" whilst obviously wearing outfits made out of curtains. And on that note, I am off to see if I can tidy my room by just simply clicking my fingers. It never worked when I was a child, much to my dismay. But it's ok, because if Mary Poppins taught me anything it was that "in every job that must be done, there is an element of fun."

And with that, good day to you all.

When boredom strikes...

…You write a blog. About absolutely anything and EVERYTHING. Hello.

Recently whilst moping in my bed of flu I’ve had a lot of time to think about things. This might seem like a strange thing to say, but I don’t actually think that often. You know like, really, deeply think about something. Analyse it. Evaluate it. Yeah I’m normally too lazy for that kind of stuff, but alas the Lemsips I have been knocking back and the paracetamol and Soothers I have been popping have triggered my brain into thinking. What an absolute revelation!

For example earlier I was thinking about how bizarre babies are. (Not as controversial as it first may appear) Several of my friends have recently given birth, several are extremely close to popping and several have bumps which are expanding daily. I’ve always found pregnancy a very weird concept. Having a little human grow inside you, having it start off the size of a super teeny weeny thing (I’ve never been the greatest at science) and having it morph into a fully fledged baby, being able to feel it move, and sometimes hiccup. What the hell?! Now, having been sent pictures of a baby minutes old, I’m not going to lie, it creeped me out a little bit. To think that just 5 minutes before that picture was taken that baby was still inside. Inside and living in a womb, which is all it has even known, and then suddenly (or not so suddenly as the case may be. 57 hours in labour. I salute you) and it’s out there in the real world. A little breathing human being… I can’t and probably never will get my head around it. It’s incredible, fascinating, brilliant, mind-blogging and a little bit peculiar!

Another thing I have over-analysed is... crackers. *Hello massive subject change* They only really ever come out around the Christmas period. But what actually are they? A colourfully decorated cardboard tube with frilly bits on either-end, that contains a card strip which when ripped apart bangs, a paper hat (which is several sizes too big for the average sized human head) and a rubbish toy/gadget and a joke. I mean what the hell? Who or earth in their right mind invented that? Thomas J. Smith in 1847, that is who! This also leads me on to asking the question of who writes the poxy jokes? Possibly the worst jokes ever written. I mean seriously some of the trash you get in them, it wouldn’t surprise me if in the joke-writing office they have competitions to see who can write the un-funniest, most unoriginal and shittest joke possible.

There was another topic which I pondered for quite a while but it would appear that I have forgotten it. Can't have been that interesting then, never mind hey! I'm guessing you have all gathered from the utter randomness and poor writing style that, yes I am still flu-ridden. However today I ventured out of bed. Reb! Only to quickly wish that I was back in it! I have also drunk way too many Lemsips and feel a little drowsy. I don't suppose you can OD on flu medicines. Can you? Eeeek! Talking of drinks I was told today (actually about half an hour ago) about Pina Colada flavoured tea. As you well know I do not drink tea. Or coffee for that matter. However if its Pina Colada flavour I think I could be persuaded. And get this bitches, it doesn't even come in a tea bag (cue the "How do I open this Jaz?" moment. Whoops) Oh no, this bad lad comes in (and I quote) "like yellow crystallized powder stuff. 3 scoops in every 20mls or summink *shrugs*" Thanks Amy!

I wish I could play the piano.

Bye! xo

And the award for the Worst/Most boring Blog EVER written goes to... THIS ONE.

Hello. I have flu. It's turning me into an illiterate fool. Honestly, my brain has gone into meltdown and I can't type/spell/function. It is horrendous. The smallest of tasks, such as spelling the word 'tongue' have become insanely challenging for my brain (yes, you are correct in thinking that I graduated from Uni with a degree in Journalism earlier this year, so yes I should be able to spell a simple word. Fml.) Anyway I ended up spelling it 'tounge' which actually looking at it now is a much prettier way of spelling it. So in my delusional mood I thought I'd have a giggle and attempt to write a blog. So here I am now, writing this utter nonsense, which I can't be bothered to reread/spell check, so deal with it.

So, Christmas this year was, umm, interesting. I'm not going to lie; it was without a doubt the worst one I have ever experienced in my 21 years. I've been lucky enough to never have had a bad one before, but this one sure as hell made up for that. I'm very much pleased it is over. So long Christmas, and quite frankly, good bloody riddence. On a happier note on Christmas Eve Dermot posted a picture of him and his turkey. Cue new background.

The last couple of days my life has revolved around the TV. This has been one of the only things that I have truly enjoyed this year. The endless films and Christmas specials are usually missed because I'd have normally been out partying dressed as a reindeer or something, however due to certain circumstances the partying reindeer in me didn't come out this year, and instead I spent my evenings in my snuggie watching tv trash. Highlights have included Celebrity Juice, Love Actually, Nativity and Eastenders. Shoot me. I can't believe I just wrote that. Those of you who know me will be stunned/horrified/realise that I truly am ill due to the fact I just admitted to watching Eastenders. If there is one thing I despise it would be soaps. The acting is rubbish, the storylines are ridiculous and they're on too much. Count me out. However I actually quite enjoyed the whole saga of Stacey up on the rood covered in psycho Janine's blood. That was until Stacey flew off to some tropical climate to live happily ever after. If it were down to me I would have had her jump off that roof and splattered across the square... tis the season and all that jazz.

Back to wallowing about my poor fluey self. There may no longer be snow outside however my bedroom resembles a snowstorm. There are tissues everywhere. I sneeze. I snot. And then I throw. I aim for bin but often miss. I haven't played netball since year 11. My skills are lacking. Bite me. I also have an array of flavoured soothers. Peach would be my favourite. Closely followed by Strawberry. And then lastly Blackcurrant. I do not like lemsip, at all. Hot Ribena used to be a favourite, it has now become tedious. My nose looks like Rudolph's (how very festive of me) yet resembles a cheese grater. Ouch. My body aches. My head hurts. My eyes feel heavy. When I swallow it feels like I'm swallowing a tennise ball covered in blades. All in all I'm having an absolute blast. Here's hoping that it'll be gone by New Year's Eve. And if not, Eastenders better have a juicy storyline that night as well.... FML!

Also I bizarrely want to go and shop in the sales. Yes you did read that right. I, Emma Jamieson, want to shop in the sales. I really am NOT myself at the minute.

I watched Love Actually for the 175,736,992th time last night. It never, ever bores me. I still laugh, I still cry and I still smile through every second of it.

"Eight is a lot of legs, David."

I've just sneezed 8 times.

And on that note, goodbye.

Festive Friends.

Hello strangers, it’s been a while hasn’t it. So long in fact that I had forgotten my password. I had to contact my babe who kindly reminded me of it, so you should all thank her for the goodness your eyes are about to read. Something about a strawberry anyone? So anyway yeah, having finally logged in and returning to my blog I find cobwebs and a genuwine tumbleweed rolling around. Not. Impressed.

Let’s get the juice out the way, since last speaking I have (and in no particular order… ) Shopped. Gossiped. Laughed. Drunk. Danced. Shopped some more. Got Married. Quickly followed that up with a divorce. Drunk hot chocolate. Dribbled over Dermot. Paused X Factor on Dermot’s face. Licked the tv screen. Wished I was Dermot’s wife. Tweeted. Been tweeted BY Dermot. Left uni. Graduated. Hiccupped. Sneezed. Yawned. Went to London. Thought I was going to The X Factor, when really I was being taken out for dinner. Sulked because of this. Made a snowman. Read Heat magazine. Laughed at myself. Watched Nativity over 20 times. Munched my way through several boxes of Festive Friends with my babe. Been given my own mini Christmas tree from Phoebs to decorate seeing as my own mother, the woman who gave birth to me, still, after 21 flipping years, doesn’t trust me enough to let me touch ours. Oh no God forbid anyone apart from her touches the tree, it’s so extreme that everyone must evacuate the house and not return until she has sculpted it perfectly and how she wants it. She can be such a scrooge. I rebelled and moved a bauble earlier. She noticed within 20 minutes. Fml. I bought some shoes. Bought two Christmas presents. Both of which are for Jazpups. Broken my phone. Cried because I did so. Cursed Orange and T Mobile to the moon and back. Sipped on some Rum Punch. Fell out with Hannah. Slut. Wanted to go to New York. Wished I was capable of saving money so I could go to London. Rekindled a few relationships. Ordered my bridesmaid dress. Had several Ned’s and wish he would just eff off out of my life forever. He is not wanted. Said I was going to buy some hi-tops, and no one believed I would. Bought some hi-tops. Gold and pink ones to be exact. Walked around like Cher Lloyd. Went to a work Christmas party. Don’t remember any of it. Probably a good thing. Received quite a few bouquets of flowers. FYI I’d prefer the cash/a new pair of shoes. Sparkled some sparklers. Gone blonde. IMO they have the same amount of fun as brunettes. And lastly had an amazing/important/exciting/jolly/extraordinary/funny/possibly life changing phone call which prompted me to write this blog...

And breatheeeeeeeeee.

Phew. So today is (well at the time of typing it’s the 22nd December, however by the time this is published it’ll be the 23rd knowing me, anyway I digress) we are approximately 3/2/1 days away (depending on when I actually post this) and to be fair, I’m really not feeling Christmassy at all this year. Not sure why. The decs are up. The advent calendar has been eaten. (All of it. In one go. On the 1st of December...) The cards have been received. The presents have taken their place under the perfectly constructed tree, which under no circumstances may be touched. *Yes. Sir. Sorry, I mean Mum.* The festive films have been on tv. Which I have happily watched. Yet I am still not feeling festive, really, at all. I fear this may just mean that I am *shudder* Growing. Up. *sick in mouth* Oh sweet Mother of Jesus please have mercy on me. I may as well blaady ask Santa for anti-wrinkle cream, a zimmer frame and a hearing aid for Christmas this year.

I miss the days when I would get excited about the next Christmas on Boxing Day morning. When after my Birthday (in May) the countdown to Christmas officially began. When I was taken to see Santa and I could sit on his lap and ask him for hundreds of presents without looking like a deluded weirdo. Don’t judge me. I miss making paper chains at school on the last week before we split up for the Christmas holidays. I miss the annual Christmas party where everyone had to bring in an item of food. I miss being so excited that I couldn’t sleep and genuinely believing that this year would be the year I’d finally be able to stay awake and see Santa, but always falling asleep just before he came. Sigh. I miss opening my bedroom door and seeing a sack full of presents. Stuff those poxy stockings, I had a sack. Suck me. I miss going downstairs and seeing a half eaten carrot and an empty can of Pepsi and a half eaten chocolate bar. Mum and Dad always said Santa would get bored of all the mince pies and milk from other children so I should leave something different…

Now a days I only get a stocking and its filled with really pointless stuff that my mum will then go on to complain about in the following weeks “Em, clean all that clutter off your dressing table.” “Err, Mum you bought me that ‘clutter’ and stuffed it in my stocking you moron. Fill my stocking with shoes next year and quit your moaning. Thank you.” Sadly I now get more excited about people opening my presents I’ve got them rather than what they’ve got me. Every year my mum huffs how I always buy everything myself and I leave her with nothing to buy me. Technically that isn’t true Mum, I want a penthouse apartment in New York, I haven’t bought that yet have I? Hop to it, please. Then comes Christmas dinner. This is normally spewed up pretty much straight after consumption due to a horrific hangover after a messy night out on Christmas Eve. The rest of the day is a blur after guzzling Bucks Fizz, Champers and whatever other alcoholic beverage is on offer. Oh, and the obligatory scoffing of Roses/Miniature Heroes/Quality Streets obviously occurs. Then comes the turkey sandwich around 10pm. Standard procedure. Don’t get me wrong I love Christmas, I just miss the buzz you got as a kid, but hey, you can’t have it all... So long as I get that apartment on 5th Ave you won’t hear me complaining this year.

I think I’m going to leave it there for now Blogette’s. It’s been fun, I for one have enjoyed myself. Hopefully you feel the same. Not bothered if you don’t, as I was told today to “Write for me. Write because you want to. Write because you’re good at it.” So that is exactly what I have done. I may pop back tomorrow. I may not. I might be busy with an alcoholic beverage/variety of. So if I’m not back before Christmas I'd like to wish you all a very merry one. I hope the presents are good, the food is scrumptious and the hangovers are hideous, because, let’s face it: the worse the hangover, the better the night before!

Goodnight xo

P.S. Just a little someink’ someink’ to leave you with - Christmas. The magical time of year where you can scream "hoe hoe hoe" at slutty strangers and innocently claim that you were "being festive". I plan to take full advantage tomorrow and Friday night.