Unintentionally appropriate gif...
So, it's almost that time of year when every single newspaper prints a cartoon of an old man with a long beard, wearing a sash that says "2015," walking past a newborn baby wearing a sash that says "2016." Seriously, get a new meme, guys...
In honour of the end of the year, I thought I'd do a review blog. But, seeing as I have a headache (from staring at this screen for way too long) and therefore don't fancy doing a review of actual, serious world issues and cultural developments in 2015, I'm doing a Bridget Jones-style one of my personal year. You lucky devils.
Here we go, then...
No. of calories consumed: Roughly twenty million billion. Diet starts next year. Maybe. If my clothes stop fitting.
No. of boyfriends: None. Zero. Zilch. I'm fine, though, guys.
No. of celebrity crushes: Loads. I may be terminally unattached in reality, but my subconcious gets around a lot. From Johnny Galecki, James Dean Bradfield and Josh Widdicombe, to people whose names don't even begin with J, the list is long, this year.
No. of real-life crushes: If you don't count the brief "hangover" crush I had from last New Year up until February, then just the one (which I've been harbouring since bloody March). My subconcious is a right tart with celebs, but I'm bizarrely faithful to real-life people who almost certainly aren't interested. Good times.
No. of units consumed: Probably too many. But you know what? I really love you. *hiccup*
No. of holidays been on: I'm starting to wonder whether Butlin's counts, anymore, seeing as I'm there so often that if I was an MP, I could probably claim expenses on it as a second home. But then again, if you don't count it, I don't think I've actually been on holiday this year. It sounds much more impressive if I count my visits to Minehead, so... Um... Maybe six? Ugh, hang on, this "review" is starting to sound like one of those awful "round-robins."
"Emma has been on six glorious holidays, this year. Isn't she wonderful?"
No. of blogs written: Including this one and the final two children's bedtime stories I have cued up and ready to post, I think my final total for the year will be 114. That's a whole lot of rambling for this curly-haired girl.
No. of books published:
Semi-autbiographical novel for adults. Buy it here. Pretty please.
A week of stories for children. Buy it here. It's good, I promise.
TWO. That's two more than last year and frankly, I'm calling that a result. I'm already planning ideas for the Seven Days... sequel, which I hope to release in Spring 2016, so here's hoping I can either match or better this record, next year.
No. of celebrities met: I think it's hovering at around 12 or 13. I'm not a stalker, I promise...
No. of concerts attended: Only around 3 or 4, I think. Not good enough. Must try harder. Still, the number of concerts I attended at which I cried my eyes out and filmed my own tears is only at one, so that's something...
No. of daily medications now being taken: Six. I know. This is what comes from having the lungs of a ninety year old miner, a belly that can't apparently digest anything without causing ridiculous pain and sinuses that block more often than a poorly-functioning toilet. Come and get me, boys.
Tattoos gained: One. I have one half of a song lyric and my bestie has the other. Basically, I've branded her as mine. Mwahahahaaaaa.
My foot, her arm.
No. of statues/funny signs/inanimate objects I have insisted on posing with for a photo: Too many. Somebody needs to stage an intervention.
No. of times I've said I'm giving up on writing: Probably at least a thousand. Every writer does it. Very rarely do we ever mean it.
New Year's resolutions:
- Lose slightly more weight and do slightly more exercise. You know, slightly.
- Grow my bloody fingernails, so I can finally stop putting this on my resolution list.
- Plan more girly days with Mum.
- Plan more, er, blokey days with Dad?
- Write more. Publish more. Make EL James' sales look pitiful.
- Will find nice, sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits or perverts. Okay, I stole that one from Bridget...
- World domination. Actually scrap that; sounds like too much pressure.
- Be happy and healthy in 2016.
Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. I wish you all a very merry Christmas and here's to a fantastic New Year. xx