Those of you that know me, and those of you that have read some of my blog will know my life is far from boring.

I’m the girl who most people have a story about, and boy are there a lot of stories. The phrase ‘it only happens to you’ follows me around. I am literally the Neville Longbottom of the Muggle world as previously mentioned: http://wp.me/p3xBAI-41

So about four years ago I suggested to my friends that they should present me with a book for my 18th birthday containing all the hilarious and stupid things I’ve done over the years, so we could all laugh together. Little did I know it would be brought out for any occasion possible so everyone could piss themselves at, well, me. Not that I mind, I love to laugh at myself more than most people, I am that crazy person you see wandering down the street beaming for no reason. I make myself laugh.

There are one hundred and two things written down in the ‘Oh Ellen’ book and that is just a few of the ones we could remember. The list seems to be endless. So I thought I would mention a couple on here so when you are feeling down you can read this, and realise there are more disastrous people in the world…namely me.

1) I stand at the tremendous height of 5’1″ and back in secondary school before my growth spurt (my feet went from a size 2 to a 4 in a few months) I could never get trousers short enough. If this wasn’t tragic enough they were inhibiting especially for a klutz like me. Whilst playing basketball in said trousers I fell over multiple times, hilarious for everyone else but my knees didn’t thank me -thinking about it, the amount I fall over probably explains why my knees make an unsettling crunching sound when I bend them -anyway.

2) The fact that I agreed to reply with ‘Awoo’ any time my friends said the words ‘She-wolf’. We were Shakira fans.

3) I occasionally get really excited when telling a story, or making a point, and speak so quickly that my own mouth gives up and all my words get mixed up and come out in high-pitched gibberish. Who am I kidding this happens all the time.

4) I once singed the ends of my hair off on my 17th birthday because I thought lighting candles would set a nice mood. The aroma of burning hair kind of killed it.

5) The time I accidentally stabbed myself with a pair of scissors, yes it was painful, yes I screamed and cried hysterically, no I didn’t need stitches. I put a plaster on it and pretended it never happen. Life lesson people, never leave nail scissors on you bed!

6) The time I grew increasingly panicked that I couldn’t find my phone, whilst talking on it.

7) The fact that I genuinely asked “how old do you have to be to buy batteries?” In my defence I thought everything behind the counter was age restricted.

8) On a packed train on the way back from a class trip in London, high on sweets, I decided it would be a good idea to launch myself on top of my friends. I ended up in the foothold with a gaping hole in my top, exposing my breasts to everyone. If that wasn’t enough I decided to announce that I had ripped my top to the entire carriage. Nice one El.

This last week has been particularly disastrous.

I was walking down a corridor in Uni and I was trying to move out of the way of a guy who was trying to get past. My friend and I hadn’t coordinated our movements so we just kept blocking him, and it was becoming increasingly awkward. I stopped to let him past and finding it hilarious I bent over to hold my sides, and recover my wits, into the crotch of an innocent passerby. In embarrassment I twisted away to be greeting with another crotch. So in the space of two minutes I had my head in the laps of two separate men! I stood up and awkwardly shuffled into a corner, red-faced and laughing.

Then later that same day I jumped out of my skin when I thought a guy in my peripheral vision was a door. I jumped to avoid collision only to realise it was actually a living, breathing, moving person.

Then later I had the conundrum as to whether I threw away my gum or swallowed it without realising. I still don’t know and I’m afraid I’ll spend the next seven years digesting something I didn’t even know I ate…

All this combined with being heckled at by a guy on a bike asking if he could help me whilst I readjusted my skirt.

I don’t understand why my only interaction with men is crotch diving and heckling…

Then there was the one time I checked my Instagram in forever. I wonder why I even have it…

I come to find I have been followed by a man old enough to be my Dad. His account filled with various pictures of him without a shirt, in bed, and then posing on a flight of stairs. I was trying to work out if he had roped someone in to take the shots or if he had set his phone to self timer, and well isn’t that just a tiny bit sad.

Maybe I would have healthy interaction with men if I left the house more than twice a week..

Other things to note I sing little tunes in uncomfortable, and comfortable silences to fill them, I laugh at my own jokes, I cry constantly, like an unhealthy amount, I’m surprised I don’t shrivel up like a grape in the sun. And finally I am proud of all of these ridiculously embarrassing things because they are me.

Sorry for the length. Hope this brings you some joy.

E x


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