Of birthdays, bees and Brand.

So, I won a poetry competition the other night. What was even better, was that due to my winning, I got to dress up as a bumble bee and lead a procession of other bumble bee costume wearers, presumably all of whom were also competition winners.
Unfortunately, during our fantastic festival, an extremely pregnant Russell Brand decided to attack both the audience and precession participants. It all ended in everyone hiding in the woods, (I had somehow lost the costume which is a damn shame) shooting at him in what appeared to be World War 3. Odd really.

Last Friday was my birthday. Not just any birthday. It was my 21st. I am not officially 21. As always, I don't feel any older, but the amount of people who have been commenting on this fact, I feel I should feel responsible and old.

Sadly, my 21st was not as I had hoped. Since around Christmas, I had been planning a 99 red balloon party (copying that of the one in Scrubs, only with more balloons) with jelly, and ice cream and costumes. However, most of my friends are at Uni, or hate me. So that meant no party.

On top of which, my sister had a car crash (which thank fully ended in no injury on her part, aside from her poor car, so I can moan) it rained aaaallllll day, and ended in me having a shouting match (quite unlike me) with an extremely racist drunk man who proclaimed that all immigrants should be sterilised. After walking up to him and calling him a not very nice name (again, totally unlike me, and cowardly done, just as the bus pulled into my stop) he stood up and called me:

a fat cunt.

Boy, was my birthday good.

To my delight however, the day was saved by a rather heroic mr peas who supplied me with lots of lovely presents, including a fluffy plastic tiara and a big 21 badge. (Which, presumably the ignorant sod on the bus failed to notice.) He also bought me:

• a plaster animal making kit thing
• a plaster paint your own mask kit thing
• Coraline in a graphic novel (amazing incidentally)
• a bag of drumsticks
• a bag of vimto lollies
• a bag of egg jellies
• a bag of flying saucers
• a pretty, pink, glittery address book and note pad
  and a tiara.

To go into the Coraline book in more detail, we saw Coraline on Wednesday in 3D, and it is now in my top 5 films. I want to name my child (regardless of gender or existence), Coraline. The graphic novel is equally stupendous and looks like this:























FAB.

Also, I discovered, after years of falsely thinking that drumsticks are rhubarb and cream flavoured- they are actually raspberry and milk flavour. I kid you not.