Signs You May've Hit Premature Middle Age

I've thought long and hard about the content of this post over the past week (in between searching for the perfect fruity spelt cake recipe, that is) and I've come to the conclusion that this intro, while completely honest, is absolutely not going to help my case. Oh how I wish I could interrupt with a "psych! I'm just messing!", but sadly this is neither a lie, nor a scene created for the audience's entertainment. It is my life.

It isn't exactly a huge shock to me, but the more I think about it, the more it slowly sinks in that I am indeed a middle aged woman stuck inside a twenty-one year old's body. Here is some evidence I've gathered that causes me to doubt my millennial heritage:

1. You have a budgeting app on your phone that you absolutely swear by
Look, it means I can sleep soundly at night knowing I have underspent on this month's petrol budget by a WHOLE ENTIRE two pounds fifty. If you're wondering (or in need of a trusty finance app yourself), I use OnTrees.

2. You're super into stocks and shares
Hells to the yeah do I own shares in a telecoms company and hells to the yeah am I now digging it. Admittedly, my stake in the company is minuscule but it's got me seriously thinking about future investments. AND I've now found a use for that annoying-as-eff Stocks app that comes with your iPhone.

3. You've vowed to become an ambassador for wildlife
I'm sorry, but there's only so many woodland creatures you can see dead on the side of the road before you decide you need to take action. Don't even talk to me about that time I saw a fallen fawn. And we all know about my teeny obsession with hedgehogs.

4. You want your out-of-work hobby to be flower arranging
Well, I've got to kick-start my train to Dutch-tulip-farm-ownership somewhere. (Also, every day I drive past a shop called 'Autumn Leaves Florist' and it fills me with joy).

5. You now drink tea after never touching the stuff before 
And your preferred choice is Darjeeling. Loose leaf Darjeeling. I just.

6. You shop at Gap
I bloomin' love Gap; their cotton shirts are so comfortable I could fall asleep in them, their jeans are the nokia of the denim world because they last an age and their colour palette is so gorge it makes my mouth water.

7. You have different candles for different times of the day
I own so many candles that I now have a sort of candle schedule. Morning is reserved for fresh, fruity and floraly scents, come afternoon we transition into warm shea butter and all things snuggly, until evening rolls around and we say hello to lavender (as this encourages restful sleep). I'm aware I need help.

8. You check the time on your watch, not your smartphone
I woke up one day and without realising, I became this. Lord have mercy on my iPhone.

9. You've started gravitating towards 'Ideal Homes' and 'Country Living' magazines
I do not own a home, nor do I live in the countryside, but these magazines are just so adorable and some of those DIYs are the things of Pinterest-filled dreams!

10. You're into gardening
I currently own a quadrant of cacti, a Wonderflower, two different types of mint herbs and five succulents. And no social life.

11. You start googling things like "when is plum season?" and "how to make rye bread rise"
In case you're wondering, plum season is May through October and you should probably mix normal wholemeal bread flour into your rye flour to help give it some oomph. You're welcome.

12. You have an uncontrollable desire to bake things even though you can't cook to save your life
I made my own spelt cake this weekend and flipping loved it! See also previous post where I blogged about making blackberry compote from home grown blackberries. I mean.

13. You see youths canoodling in the street and feel positively outraged
Excuse me but can you touch each others behind's on your own time?

*Gulp* Someone pass me a drink.
~ Eleanor xo

The person you become in a nightclub

Mindy Lahiri is goals

I don't know about you guys, but the person I turn into when I enter a discotech is largely down to the kind of mascara I'm wearing. If it looks as though I'm having trouble blinking because my eyelashes are so heavy, I'm probably wearing what I like to call: my slutty mascara. Or as some people call it, Maybelline Scandaleyes mascara. Or as my google search has just pointed out, Rimmel Scandaleyes mascara. If you ever wondered why I'm not a beauty blogger, I think you just found your answer; I don't even know what brands I use. Let's just gloss over that minor mishap, after all, I am currently drinking the most expensive vanilla latte in existence because the dick-wad barista decided to overcharge me and I'm so livid I can barely see. But I digress; my point is, this Rimmel mascara (nailed it) guarantees massive fat-ass lashes that look the bomb in photos. So much so that I haven't de-tagged myself from a truly atrocious photo that appeared on Facebook last week simply because my lashes are killing it and I want everyone to know. #TrueStory #Blessed.

So yes, slutty mascara = I've made an effort, I'm excited and I'm ready to partay... except in the case of last week when I had what can only be described as the worst night-out ever. Clearly the guy who thought it was hilarious to come up to me and mimic my 'resting bitch face' knew, even by midnight, that tonight was not the night he was getting laid so gave up and began acting like a giant douche-bag to soften the blow.

On that same night I made a new friend in the form of a blonde fresher, I'm going to go ahead and assume she was a fresher simply because she couldn't stop swaying and then couldn't seem to comprehend why I was drying my arm, even after I told her twice that someone had spilt their drink all over me. Eventually it seemed to click and she reacted as though I'd told her I'd been shot. Which to be honest, is a very fair reaction seeing as my new Zara top took the blow. Vodka is for drinking, not for pouring over brand new £30 chiffon Zara tops. Or Primark flats; but I lost that four quid simply by buying the shoes, let's be honest.

I'm not being a nightclub hater; the only things I really hate on are wine gums and incense candles *tries not to vomit*, because there are some great times to be had: you can weasel your way around getting a much drunker friend to buy you a beverage of some kind, maybe even a double if you're feeling adventurous, you can scream the entirety of 'what makes you beautiful' into your BFF's face as she does the same to you, and you're pretty much guaranteed to get some if that's what you're after. Unless of course you're one of those people that refuses to believe when someone tells you they aren't available. Basically what you're telling me is that even in my nightclub finery, I could never be anything more than a hump-and-dump situation. Yes, I may be wearing my slutty mascara but that's where it ends, my friend. And if we're being honest, if someone decides to make up that they're not on the market just so they don't have to get with you, maybe it's time you went home, ate a pot noodle and had an existential crisis of your own. Still, who can really say chivalry is dead when the guy finally stops telling you "you're lying" and trots off to try his luck with one of your friends. Forget holding a door open, this is what a gentleman looks like.

Seriously you guys, all I want to do is dance to Taylor Swift and wear sweatpants while I'm doing it. Kind of like a really hip grandma. Is that so much to ask?

~ Eleanor xo

PS, while googling synonyms for 'hump and dump', I found some amazing alternatives: "wham bam and thank you maam", "nail it and bail it", "smash it and dash it" and the king: "tap the ass and hit the gas"

What it's like being 7311 days old (or 20 years and 1 week)

As most of you are probably well aware, it is terrible. You see before you a girl with a chipped manicure, rocking a 'just-taken-out-plaits' hairstyle, who possesses a pink iPod nano with Ashley Tisdale's unfairly overlooked debut album, 'Guilty Pleasures', ready to blast through her car stereo on the drive home from work. It's possible we have an epidemic on our hands. Or a pandemic. Or just a general emic because I don't really know what any of those words mean... Let's just go with 'code red'. Or perhaps more fittingly, 'code grey', because that's what I've been fearing I will find stacked on my head when I look in the mirror every morning after I wake up.

Truthfully, on the day after my birthday I really believed I'd woken up with wrinkles. But as it turned out, I'd just fallen asleep with my make-up on and decided to smush my face into my pillow so as to make myself look as unattractive as possible. At least there's still part of me that's lazy enough to be classed as a teenager. I can't remember if this was also the night I had a dream where my neighbours ginger cat bit me on the face. Not that this is relevant, but as a certified old person, I'm now supposed to bore you by going off on strange tangents.

The day itself was obviously a lot of fun - as birthdays should be! I was awoken at six in the morning by an interesting rendition of 'happy birthday' sung by my mother; who also, being a total joker, decided to sing the line "happy birthday to someoneeeeeee" instead of inserting her own daughters name. Classic hilarity from Mrs Potter. We then preceded to play a game I would like to call "Mum can you stop telling me how much you think I'm going to like each present it's practically the middle of the night and my eyes aren't able to fully open". My parents gave me a silver star charm for my Thomas Sabo bracelet; receiving this gift is a moment I will probably always remember, obviously because it's beautiful but also because when I opened it, my mum looked me straight in the eye and went "because you are a star". Couldn't sing my name in the happy birthday song though, could she?

This all went out the window when four days later I picked out a truly gorgeous rose gold Marc Jacobs watch that would be, as we say in our family, my 'main present'. I'm still so in awe of it's beauty that I keep forgetting it is actually a time telling device. Brains AND beauty, what a catch. And just to blow this whole thing even more out of the water (I don't think I've used that saying right), the rose gold on the watch matches my rose gold iPhone 5S. I cannot tell you how much of a first world white girl I feel. It's an exhilarating experience to say the least.

Once I'd got past my midday "oh my god there's something wrong with my knee I can't move I've officially reached old age this is the end" anxiety attack, I was able to continue celebrating myself - with more presents (shout-out to my adorable best friends who proved once again just how well they know me *cough* chocolate fingers *cough*, and to my boyfriend for the really sweet gifts of my favourite things - including a new MASSIVE Yankee candle that the pyromaniac inside me can't wait to get back to uni and burn baby burn), and a Smarties birthday cake - courtesy of my boyfriends family because they're the sweetest people ever. Sadly the day ended with me in tucked up in bed early, ready for work the next day - and for those of you thinking to yourself that I would've done the same thing even if I didn't have work early in the morning, to you I say, shhhhhhh.

Now it's a whole week later and the world looks no different (which is good because it means I'm not losing my sight), and to be honest, I don't really feel any different. I still have trouble getting up in the morning, I seem to be getting worse at making toast, and I'm just as atrocious at driving as ever. I did voluntarily clean my room yesterday though so make of that what you will.

Thank you so much to everyone who wished me a happy birthday and/or sent me cards and gifts; you guys are the best.

~ Eleanor xo

PS. You'll be pleased to know I completed 9 of the 19 things I'd planned to do this year. Most disappointing of all was my failure to keep my cactus plant alive. Better luck next time. Maybe.

Fourty long overdue apologies

At nineteen years old (yes, really, I'm that many years old - I know you had no idea because I never talk about it...), I have racked up a worryingly large amount of regrets. From buying flared jeans in the peak of my childhood, to becoming addicted to the Sims 2 and butchering my family's laptop in the process, my repertoire is overflowing with "oh good God" moments. But let's be honest, what life is complete without a healthy dose of regret with a side order of self-hatred? We all need things that keep us up at night, that we can over-think while staring out of a car window with one of Adele's songs blaring through our headphones, and that really do warrant a dramatic re-enactment of our favourite rom-com break-up scene.

So I've been thinking, what am I sorry for? After much careful consideration and general "why the hell did I even do that? Eleanor you are a total twat", I have compiled a list of fourty incidents I feel I need to apologise to the world for (because face-to-face apologies are so two-thousand-and-late). And if you're reading the list and think a certain point is about you, well, it probably isn't - don't be so cocky. Ha, no I'm joking, it most likely is.

So without further ado: a bucket full of soz for (being the worst human being ever) and...

1. I am sorry that I can't pay my rent by myself
2. I am sorry that I have no self control when I'm in Zara
3. I am sorry for the times you haven't been able to check your email because I've been streaming crappy American television shows
4. I am sorry for fantasizing about pushing you down the stairs after I learnt that you'd eaten my Nutella without asking. *twitches*
5. I am sorry for accidentally setting that oven glove on fire
6. I am sorry for not texting you my whereabouts and causing you to think I had crashed my car and was in a ditch
7. I am sorry for telling you to "fuck off" on the one night of the year I should've done the exact opposite
8. I am sorry for all the times I've broken the shower. I've lost count of how many times it is now...
9. I am sorry that I use 'swag' as an adjective
10. I am sorry I let you pass out on the floor... whilst I fell asleep in your bed
11. I am sorry I laughed at your misfortune. But hey, karma's a bitch and so am I.
12. I am sorry for constantly borrowing your DVDs without asking
13. I am sorry I always fish for compliments. And I'm even more sorry that you've figured out that I do that.
14. I am sorry that I turn into Miley Cyrus when I'm drunk. And that my tongue has a mind of its own in pictures.
15. I am sorry for spilling the liquid soap in your bathroom. And for only now telling you.
16. I am sorry for smashing one of your plant pots with my car
17. I am sorry for crying for fucking hours and covering you (and everything you own) in mascara. That was so not cool and I deeply regret it.
18. I am sorry I enjoyed your sexting scandal. You did kind of deserve it though. Soz.
19. I am sorry for starting that fight about your ex. And that it lasted three days. I understand your side now.
20. I am sorry I tripped on my pajamas and ended up breaking your textiles coursework
21. I am sorry for breaking your heart after you spent £40 on sending me a bouquet of flowers on Valentines Day. And that you stopped talking to me a year later. Prick.
22. I am sorry for always being late
23. I am sorry for being "a tiny bit over-dramatic"
24. I am sorry that you're all so jealous of me. But I can't help it that I'm popular. Wait, no, that's a line from 'Mean Girls'.
25. I am sorry for getting a nose bleed while we were making out
26. I am sorry for getting rib pain while we were making out. Multiple times.
27. I am sorry that both of those things happened on the same weekend
28. I am sorry that my handwriting is worse than that of a 5 year old child
29. I am sorry for almost running a red light on my way to see you... I'm just generally sorry that I am such an abysmal driver.
30. I am sorry for swearing so fucking much... Ah, man.
31. I am sorry for not always texting back (or replying to snapchats) and being unable to control my use of emojis
32. I am sorry that my appalling taste in music affected you so much
33. I am sorry for always stealing the duvet
34. I am sorry for asking if you would "like me for dessert" whilst we were in a crowded restaurant... and for being unable to keep a straight face as I did so
35. I am sorry that near enough all my clothing has a chocolate stain on it
36. I am sorry I played bejeweled while we were in bed. And that you fell asleep because of it. (I got a high score though, so all was not lost!)
37. I am sorry for always shooting down all the nice things you say to me. I get nervous, ok!
38. I am sorry I still fantasize about one day getting my own break-up scene like the one in 'A Cinderella Story'. But it is so freaking dramatic.
39. I am sorry that I am so pessimistic about everything. "The glass is always completely full of tears".
40. And most importantly, I am sorry that I took a break whilst writing this post to stand on my bed and mime along to 'Let it Go' by Demi Lovato. And that I consequently almost fell off and broke my neck with the force of my air grabs.

So, can you forgive me?

~ Eleanor xo

The realisation that I shouldn't be left alone

I came up with this post idea whilst mustering all the strength in my five foot seven inch body in an attempt to reach the pack of Cadbury's chocolate fingers perched precariously on the edge of my desk - whilst still lying face down on my bed. I had an epiphany of sorts, a kind of "Eleanor, look at yourself. Look at your life, what on earth are you doing? And more importantly, why are you wearing Christmas socks in January!?" experience. I did manage to retrieve the box, but I'm really not flexible enough for all this stretching - I definitely think I just sprained some kind of ligament in my rib-area. You can tell I was a truly gifted biology student.

Ok, so now that I've consumed at least fifty per cent of the just opened box of chocolates, we can begin. Currently, you're all up to speed on how, at nineteen, I'm already certain that my career is failing. But today, my majestic chums, I am unsure whether I'll be able to survive long enough to even see my twentieth birthday. Why exactly? Because, to put it mildly, I am a tiny defenseless naive kitten with very little knowledge about anything.

To put this truly surprising revelation into perspective, earlier this week I found myself in an unforeseen predicament. Long story short, I spent a good ten minutes with my arm hanging out of a window, grasping a smoldering candle. Why, you ask? Because, earlier that day I'd taken a leap of faith and decided that I was responsible enough to buy and look after a Yankee Candle (here is an instagram image posted only hours before the harrowing event). Whilst burning, the candle fills the air with the scent of 'fluffy towels', which is most satisfying, only, when you blow it out, it emits more smoke than that of a nightclub smoke machine. Naturally, this threw me into a complete panic because my bedroom has its own smoke detector and I knew I had only a matter of minutes to get this situation under control... so I swept everything off my windowsill, threw open the window and with wet wax sloshing all over the place, thrust the jar into the night air. So smooth.  

Once I finally realised how incredibly ridiculous this entire situation was (I was still holding the candle outside at this point), I whispered down the phone to my boyfriend, "please don't ever let me live alone". As I described my predicament, and how utterly laughable it was, he replied with, "Oh god, who gave a candle to the pyromaniac?" And he's right, of course. I am a true fire risk. And then some.

Other evidence I shouldn't live alone:
1. I almost set my Halls kitchen on fire whilst cooking sausages last year
2. When the batteries in my toothbrush ran out, I had to brush my teeth without them for several weeks because I kept forgetting to buy more. (The same happened with my TV remote).
3. Generally, I can't cook. I just can't. And I don't think it's a good idea to live on a student diet for the rest of my life...
4. Not that good with a washing machine. I know that if you put a red sock in with your white clothes, bad things happen - I learnt that from a Simpsons episode.
5. I constantly lose my keys. Which are pretty important... And nobody wants to have a locksmith on their speed-dial, do they?
6. I'm not very good with money. Currently, my dad helps me keep track of my (dwindling) finances, but when I have a mortgage to pay, I have a feeling I'll need someone around to cut up my credit card if necessary
7. I AM ALWAYS LATE. It's not my fault, I swear! If I'm going somewhere with someone else, I am punctual, but without them, your guess is as good as mine (once, I turned up 50 minutes late...ooops)
8. When the light bulb in my university bedroom blew, I had to illuminate my life with fairy lights for weeks before my dad gave me new light bulbs and carefully instructed me on how to change them myself. He made sure to remind me to check the light switch was off before touching anything. Thank god.
9. I have absolutely no idea how to make tea. My mum keeps trying to teach me but it's yet to stick...

Sadly (and worryingly), there are so many more reasons as to why it's borderline dangerous for me to be alone. You never know what you'll find if you leave me unsupervised; I could paint a mural on the wall in your living room, or I could burn it to the ground whilst trying to make pancakes. But as I've often pointed out, that's half my charm...

~ Eleanor xo

{This post is dedicated to a dear member of my family who sadly passed away on Monday; you are forever in my heart, and I will miss you greatly}

Why I'm fairly sure my career will never take off

Now, I know you all believe that I am practically the human embodiment of perfection, but today I found myself wondering if this really is the case. When an uber-hipster with a loud shirt gives a presentation on his experience of the world of work and how he got to where he is (one sexually provocative banned Panasonic advert and, i'm presuming, an entire wardrobe stocked with geometrically colourful clothes), you can't help but question everything about yourself. He kindly informed us all that when employers are looking at you, they don't care for degrees or skillsets, they care about who you are as a person and, wait for it, your hobbies and interests. Ummm.

Hobbies and interests. HOBBIES AND INTERESTS?! I have no hobbies or interests. Actually, that's not true, some 'interests' that come to mind include: tweeting my embarrassing moments, eating my own body weight in Cadbury's Chocolate Fingers, wearing socks with holes in them, playing bejeweled, live-streaming Pretty Little Liars at 1am, being charmingly modest and providing ongoing comic relief for my friends, instagramming every restaurant meal before I consume it, impersonating Taylor Swift, wasting my student loan at Starbucks, getting snapchats labelled 'spawn of satan' from my sister after staying out all night without telling anyone, tripping over things, swearing (I really need to stop that), having nervous breakdowns about my future, getting blisters from new shoes, waking up with yesterdays make-up smeared across my face, avoiding physical exercise, and (perhaps most crucially), procrastinating.

So you see, that's all I have to offer the world! I don't cook, I can't ski, I'm not a photographer (like most people claim to be), I've never attempted to fight a great white shark, and disappointingly, I've never had the opportunity to save someones life. I can't even keep a Sim family alive without using cheats anymore! I'm nineteen, this really is not going well. I mean seriously, there are kids out there infiltrating the FBI website and starring in Hollywood movies, yet my greatest achievement of the last few months is managing not to kill my pet cactus. Instead of being out there saving white tigers or freeing slaves, I am sat here, wearing pajamas with owls printed on them and a hooded Hollister sweatshirt that frankly makes me look like a yob (my sister has pointed this out more than once), having what can only be described as a severe existential crisis.

You see, this is why I'll end up curled up in a hole all alone, with one outfit and three pence to my name. Because I am a truly horrendously pathetically boring excuse for a human being and if we're being honest: peeps do not dig that.

Now pretend you and I are out in a rainstorm, picture it as if we're part of a fantastic Hollywood rom-com starring Julia Roberts, it's dark and cold, there are only streetlights and the faint purr of someones Porsche in the distance, and I look up at the sky and begin to yell "tell me, advertising industry people, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO BE?!"

What's the answer? What do you think I am? (besides totally crazy for yelling at the sky, obviously)

~ Eleanor xo

The worst aspects of my personality

I spend a lot of my time complimenting myself. Not in an egotistical "wow I'm the most beautiful human being to ever walk the planet, bow down bitches" way, but for some reason I find myself believing that if I say cool things about myself for long enough, maybe one day someone will turn around and agree that yes, I am swagtastic. Here's to hoping.

Throwing aside my obvious personality winners, which include (but are not limited to), being an exceptionally talented writer (*cough cough*), really rather brilliant at remembering all the lines to Pixar animation films - to the point where I can recite them backwards, in my sleep, in Spanish; and not forgetting my ability to ignore all my problems and pretend my life is going swimmingly. But even I can admit that I'm not perfect. Practically perfect, yes, but not completely - something Mary Poppins and I have in common... isn't that swell.

But let us observe: Eleanor's Personality Downfalls:

1. Eleanor is ridiculously easy to make jump
Bet you all thought I'd stop after the first 4 words. Maybe you're sad I didn't...

2. Eleanor cannot make decisions

The worst thing you can ever ask me: "So, where do you want to go for dinner?". I imagine it'd be easier for me to climb Mount Everest in shorts than it would be to answer this question.

3. Eleanor constantly wants to eat
I don't have a defense for this, I just really like food.

4. Eleanor has this idea that she needs to 'fix' things... that aren't actually broken
You haven't told me you love me for 24 hours therefore that means you hate me therefore I must fix this and force you into wanting me again whether you like it or not.

5. Eleanor has an ability to procrastinate to the point where she is unable to function
Like now, for example, when I should be working on my marketing assignment (hashtag ooops)... If I'm totally honest, I'm still rather unsure how I managed to blag my way through First year.

6. Eleanor is strangely vengeful
When I was younger a lot of the people I sometimes fell out with (aren't I a delight) had nut allergies, so if they pissed me off, I went home and ate peanut butter sandwiches... and scowled a lot. Now I'm more into plotting the downfall of said pisser-offer and throwing stuff around my bedroom.

7. Eleanor has very expensive taste (she blames her sister)
And getting a £150 Ralph Lauren voucher for Christmas from said sister is not helping anything (but buckets of thanks for the uber generous gift, sis. You're awesome.)

8. Eleanor is worse than a starving lion when she is without sleep
Much like the events witnessed in the Hunger Games, you never know what you'll face if you attempt to talk to me whilst I'm running on empty. I may cry, I may laugh, I may fantasize about feeding you to a wild jackal, and there's only one way to find out...

9. Eleanor assumes that people understand her sarcasm and therefore has not just made someone contemplate jumping off a cliff because she made a joke about their t-shirt...

10. Eleanor never stops complaining
Actually, that's not true. Sometimes I'm asleep.

11. Eleanor thinks she's ghetto
See earlier paragraph in which I described myself as 'swagtastic'.

12. Eleanor tells people what her best asset is, rather than letting them decide for themselves
FYI, it's my bum. But I hope you already knew that.

13. Eleanor cannot go anywhere without alerting the world to her whereabouts or how much fun she's having
See twitter and instagram feeds for pouting selfies, filtered landscapes and spelling-mistake-ridden drunkeness - all in the name of "I'M HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE!!!!!!", when really, I'm probably not.

And apparently, Eleanor now talks in the third person. But, I have to admit, when I started writing this post I thought I'd only end up with a list of about three points... perhaps Eleanor is not as swagtastic as she thought...

~ Eleanor xo

Things I thought were sexy but upon reflection, probably weren't

I am probably the least sexy female on the planet; I eat like some kind of crazed gibbon and I laugh at pretty much everything (serious, sexual or otherwise). Let's all take a short moment to think about what a catch I am *sigh*. I have (so far) had zero luck with guys, can you tell? but university has provided a great stepping stone for me to work on my skills so I'll be ready to go out into the real world and work my magic and fool someone into loving me unconditionally. I am a girl with a plan. But no man. Hmmm.

So here it is: Eleanor's accidental guide to being seriously un-sexy... Enjoy:

1. Chewing gum
I thought I was doing great until he asked me why I was chewing so loud, and then proceeded to mimic me.

2. Low back/backless see-through top that showed off my new lacy bra
He pointed out that I had gotten thoroughly (unevenly) sunburnt the previous day. Like I didn't already know that. Moron.

3. Sneaking him into my house
My sister came home and found us. It was what I can only describe as one of the worst experiences of my life. She didn't grass me up to my parents though; thanks sis, I owe you one.

4. Short pyjama shorts
When you have a booty you gotta use it, girl! So I did. Until I got a text a few days later telling me the shorts were too short. Ok there, Mr Mixed Signals.

5. Wearing (and keeping) his hoodie
It was great; comfiest hoodie I've ever worn in fact (perfect for 9am lectures at uni where you do not give a shit about your appearance - take note, girls). Until we broke up and in the end I had to mail it back to him. There's £3.90 I'll never get back.

6. Talking about Victoria's Secret
I'll probably keep doing this but I just really like the brand.

7. Mositurising my legs
I don't think he was even watching so that was a waste of my time.

8. Instagramming bikini selfies
I was on holiday, hanging by the pool with the sun in the sky and decided to pose for a picture so I could boast to everyone back home in rainy England. Everything seemed cool until my sister messaged me telling me the bikini I was wearing made it look as though I was naked. I can't look at that picture anymore.

9. Sharing a mozzarella stick (you know, like the spaghetti scene in Lady & The Tramp)
This one was not my idea - umm hello, mozzarella sticks are my favourite, why on earth would I want to share one?! Still, we tried it and frankly it just turned into a cheesy mess and he ended up with the bigger half so that wasn't great.

10. Shaving only half way up my legs
I was wearing long pyjama bottoms so I figured only shaving to the knee would be fine. Oh how wrong I was. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how utterly horrific this experience was. NEVER. AGAIN.

What a poor excuse of a woman I am. Learn from my mistakes ladies, it will save you a hell of a lot of embarrassment.

~ Eleanor xo

Guys I Won't Date

Being a single girl (cue audience sighing and "awwww"ing on my behalf) I spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about my ex's and what I want in a guy in the future - other people do this too, right? Anyway, I've constructed a list of people I definitely wouldn't look at twice, with a few jabs at my ex's and their old habits (yep, I'm basically Taylor Swift... only I can't sing and I'm not blonde).

1. Someone who talks about themselves non-stop
Eventually I'll just stop listening because this stuff gets old fast. Maybe ask me how I am once in a while.

2. Hot and he knows it
Basically the biggest turn-off ever. Stop acting like you're god's freaking gift and just chill out - ain't nobody finding that attitude attractive.

3. Someone who barely watches TV
I like to watch television, like, a lot a lot. From staying up till 1am on a Wednesday morning to live-stream the latest episode of Pretty Little Liars, to curling up on a winter evening watching CSI, I do the lot. I'm not exactly going to force you to watch with me, but don't hate on the delights of the TLC network until you've watched at least one episode of Extreme Cheapskates.

4. Someone who thinks he's cooler than me because he drinks more
Sure, we're young and in our prime, but I am capable of deciding what I want and despite your enthralling story, I don't find you cool for drink driving.

5. Someone who tells me I have shit taste in music/films/TV etc.
You are not superior to me in any way simply because you listen to, in your opinion, 'better' music. When this gem comes up it becomes apparent that the only shit taste I have, is in boyfriends.

6. Someone who brags about their other female attention
I am well aware that there are billions of other females in the world, and you should definitely check them out because yolo but why do you feel the need to text me every time you get hit on?

7. Someone who talks about their ex
Erm hello, your ex is your ex for a reason and honey if you keep this up you're gonna become my ex to. Don't compare me or the things I do to how you remember it with your ex, like, what exactly are you hoping to achieve from this?

8. Cat lovers
Ever since I was a kid I have regarded cats as my personal omen. When cats are involved, bad things happen. I can't really explain it, but cats just make me super uncomfortable.

9. Bad manners
Manners are so incredibly vital. I'm not talking about always holding the door open for me and bowing as I enter (or maybe I am...), but just, don't behave like a total asshole. Is that too much to ask?

What about you? Are there any traits you cannot deal with or are you someone that's up for a challenge? And are you now thinking that I am a total lunatic with ridiculously high standards (I hope not).

~ Eleanor xo

My Internet Regrets

In life, we all have things we regret; and on the internet, they're immortalized forever. The list below includes only some of my regrets, there are probably hundreds more in the depths of cyberspace... Say "cheesy drunken selfie!!". Oh dear.

1. That one tweet I posted that got me into a huge fight with one of my best friends that frankly, I don't think we ever recovered from...

2. Helping my mum get Facebook 
I thought she only wanted it to re-connect with her sister who lives in the US and hasn't seen for a billion years. Nope, she just wanted it to stalk me whilst I'm away at uni. I learnt that the hard way. Damn.

3. Facebook in general
I do not fancy being reminded that a guy I turned down in year 10 is now celebrating his second anniversary with a SERIOUSLY hot girl, whilst I have sat in the same position eating Cheetos for 7 hours straight, totally alone.

4. Most of my selfies 
They always look so good at the time. Internet trickery.

5. Posting a story to 'My Life Is Twilight'
Just, don't even go there.

6. Every single Piczo site I owned 
If you're sitting there thinking 'I cannot relate to this' then you are lying. You know you are. Also, I only just found out that Piczo permanently closed down last December - what!?

7. Blocking my sister on twitter
She got really upset and I felt bad so I allowed her back into my elite fold after 2 days.

8. Every drunk tweet
Most people call their boyfriends when they get hella drunk, I however, for some reason, feel the need to tweet dumb stuff. Most of it doesn't even make sense. WHY?

9. Hotmail
I had a Hotmail account for around 8 years, and it got hacked approximately 3000 times. I'd be surprised if I'm not filed under 'girl who tries to sell me cheap viagra' in all my contacts address books. Now it's Gmail all the way.

10. The 'Capitalising Every Word In A Sentence' Phase
I stopped doing this after someone on, wait for it... a 'Sims 2' forum (yes, believe it) told me to stop. It truly was a life changing moment.

11. That time I stalked the Facebook and twitter pages of my ex boyfriend's new and past girlfriends
(We've all been there, right?) I hid under my duvet and cried my eyes out for hours. Then I told myself to suck it up and never ever do that again. And I haven't. So far.

However, I am immensely proud that I do not own a Pinterest board named 'my wedding' - not even a secret one! It almost makes all that other crap not seem so bad. Almost.

What are some of your internet regrets? You can deny it all you want but nothing gets 'permanently deleted' on the internet. (Basically, tell me I'm not alone in any of these things, please!)

~ Eleanor xo