Attempting life as an adult

Tag Archives: Helga


“Welcome, welcome, the time has come to select one courageous man and woman” – Wait. Is this the hunger games i’m entering?
Nope, it’s just another job application. Although there isn’t the inevitable threat of death, don’t be fooled, part of you will die – your soul.

Applying for jobs nowadays feels like your volunteering as tribute in a fight to the death of future employment. The questions, the tests, the stages, the interviews – WHY GOD, WHY?! It all makes me think Gale was right when he said “they just want a good show, that’s all they want”. Why else would a company subject other human beings to this torture if it wasn’t for the shits and giggles of it all.

The Districts – different universities.

District Representatives – other applicants, potentially old classmates.

The Capitol – the merciless employer.

The Arena – the job application.

Me – Jennifer Lawrence, the resemblance is uncanny i know.

My Mentor – my cv, (which might as well be a drunken Woody Harrelson from the mismatch jobs                        I’ve had in my lifetime).

STAGE 1: Job Applications questions;

You see a job advertisement online and before you know your saying: “I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE”. Instantly you regret it when the likes of this question pop up;

“What was the last thing you wondered about” – a genuine job application question I answered.

Right ok, you got this, you are Katniss Everdeen. Just give an answer that’s interesting, funny, and up to date with current affairs. Oh and remember to sound intelligent, but not too pretentious that you come across as an arse, but then again not too simple that it makes you look like a Kardashian.

STAGE 2: Tests; 

You receive an email. They want you to come in for an interview after impressing them with your witty, intelligent and down to earth answers right? Nope. They want to test your ability to answer more pointless questions, but wait for it, this time you’re timed. Right Katniss, just think of it as another higher english test. I’m sure this requirement wasn’t in the ‘ideal candidate’ section.

“Right here we go, this isn’t too bad – I think it’s this answer – phew that was close – wait – what? – What does that mean? – I don’t get it – ”

*session has expired* 


STAGE 3: The assessment centre; 

Finally the time comes to enter the real arena and the games can officially begin. You meet the other tributes, eyeing every one of them up and instantly there is a mutual hatred for each other. Like the hunger games, there is a group training exercise and other tributes who have trained for the games can show off their skills. Again, just like the Hunger Games, only one comes out victorious and I’ll be damned if it’s not me.
But wait, you meet your very own Rue.
That person is the only one you can relate to in a room full of pretentious twats. But she has to go, you have to outshine them all because this the hunger games and there’s only one job position!

STAGE 4: The Interview;

The time has come to remember everything your mentor taught you. Impress them with your made up skills from your CV. OH, tell them how much Nick Knowles liked your soy lattes, that’s bound to impress them, but maybe leave out the part about the accidental burn. Like a bow and arrow, take aim with your buzz words and release a perfectly rehearsed one-liner. BBHAAM, Jennifer Lawrence who?

At the end you take stock and for a second you think you’re the last one standing, everyone’s dead. But your glory is short lived, as a week later you receive an announcement from the capitol and your reminded that there can only be one winner in the hunger games, and it’s not you. Despite the extraordinary resemblance, you are not Jennifer Lawrence, you are just a ploy in their twisted game.

In desperation you reach for the poisonous berries and guzzle them down as you can’t let these vicious corporations get away these acts of torture. But they’re not poisonous berries, they’re grapes, and the only thing they’ve destroyed is your soul.



  1. If their local sports facility centre was a ski club.
  2. If their packed lunch to uni consists of cous cous with vegetables.
  3. If their summer days were spent at Balamaha on their friends jet skies instead of getting drunk at their local park.
  4. If their birthday party spread consists of cured italian meats, fresh bread and cheese instead of iceland’s spring rolls.
  5. If they say “yeah man” more than twice in a sentence.
  6. If their first car was better than the car your parents drive.
  7. If they put foundation on their lips, wtf is that about?
  8. If their version of misbehaving in class was challenging the philosophy teacher to a debate.
  9. If their scariest fight in school consisted of someone getting belted with last seasons Prada.
  10. If their hardest decision in 6th year was deciding between touring Europe or Southeast Asia.
  11. If the local delinquents were as effective a young team as the cast of Made in Chelsea.
  12. If their biggest fear at house parties was that their parent’s fine crystal champagne flutes would get chipped or god forbid the ice dispenser would break.
  13. If they know at least two people who own a boat. Or they actually have a boat themselves.
  14. If they pretend to like sushi while secretly gagging on the inside.
  15. If they know at least three people who are Tory voters.
  16. If their life ambition in school was to be part of the fashion show committee. In fact if their school even had a fashion show.
  17. If they complain about how much money they spent in the casino after being “like so, so drunk man” off of grey goose and patron.
  18. If their local ‘scheme’, if you could even call it that, resembled a cul de sac in a street.

    and finally….

  19. If they write a blog.


Some can sing, some can dance, I on the other hand can stalk your every online move through social media without you even noticing.

Ok that sounds pretty disturbing when I put it like that, what I maybe should of said is that through social media I have taken nosiness to a different level.

Being nosey about my friend’s, old school mate’s, frenemie’s, crush’s lives has led to something which I like to call ‘facecreeping’. I regularly creep on people’s Facebook profile or twitter accounts, I’ve even stooped to swatching linkedIn accounts. Hell, I even creep on people’s friends of friends, you know your onto a winner when their profile isn’t private. If I have you on any of these platforms then chances are – I’ve creeped on you.

I love facebook creeping, it’s part of my daily routine. What’s not to love about seeing your former schoolmates or colleagues, who in their hay-day ruled, receive their karmic retribution.

I’d like to use the public interest defence here, however don’t be fooled into thinking that this is an easy job folks – no, no. Facecreeping is a form of art. As simple as it may seem, not everyone can do it. Getting away with it is the key.

The first point I’d like to emphasize is that it takes effort. You get what you put in people. Most often this translates into spending the time. If you wanna know what your ex has been up to or know what your up against with his/her’s new interest, then this requires a lot of starring into the black mirror my friend.

Second, choose your device carefully. Computers are the most reliable tools for facecreeping on someone. Facecreeping on a smartphone is a rookie mistake. The chances of you accidentally clicking ‘like’ are more probable. If you’re facecreeping then you’re likely to be trolling through past photos or posts and nothing will give you the fear more than accidentally ‘likeing’ an old photo or post as it exposes your creepiness.

Just like you wouldn’t go for a run on an empty stomach, do not approach your creeping with a weary attitude. This is the downfall for most people. Being tired whilst facecreeping can lead to a number of fatalities; confusing your status update for your search bar, again accidental liking something and the most unfortunate – accidentally sharing a post or picture. Embark on your facecreeping with a clear head and a steady hand, optimum time being around lunchtime.

Most importantly, and crucial to the key of facecreeping, do not let individuals know that you know what they’ve been up to. For example, casually meeting an individual who you’ve recently creeped on can be potentially disastrous. Through an exchange of pleasantries they, hypothetically, reveal to you that they had recently broken up with someone. This will not be new knowledge to you the creeper, and hence you’re faced with a dilemma. Divulging that you know such information exposes your creeping, therefore one must act surprised – “THAT IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION”, further concealing your creeping.

By discussing the art of facecreeping I have in affect broke the pivotal rule and revealed that I am a creep, but the thing is we all do it to some degree. I like to think of it as an adventure like i’m Chloe from 24, but I think that is just to take my mind off the fact that I am sitting in on a Friday night with no one but two men called Ben and Jerry to satisfy me.


Have you ever been on your own in a public place – I call it just another weekday but that’s another story, and forgot that you were in fact alone?

Unfortunately I do it all the time: I’ve started bouncing my shoulders to “n***** in paris” whilst being at the gym like I was in some sort of club; I might have accidentally picked my nose whilst being in the library, much to an onlooker’s horror. You’d think by now I’d be immune to the embarrassment but no.

The other day I was getting money out at a busy cash machine, and at the end of my transaction, before I took my money, the question “would you like advice on your account?” appeared on screen, my reaction;

“Haha. eh NO.”

This sudden outburst prompted the guy behind me to ask “Is it out of money?”

“aw, eh no, sorry it just asked me if I wanted money advice and I was like obviously not…..”



It was distinctly awkward, however I was still laughing to myself by the fact that my financial situation had got so bad that cash machine’s were now offering me advice on how to deal with my account.

If there is one thing I do in life with consistency, it’s avoiding checking my bank balance.

Always- *CASH ONLY*

No, I do not want to know how skint I am. No, I do not want to see that red little minus sign next to numbers. No, I do not want to be depressed. I’d rather live in blissful ignorance over my financial situation, thank you very much.

I am hopeless with money. Literally hopeless. When I turned 18 I thought I was being sensible by not getting an overdraft so I rewarded myself with a shiny pink credit card. That didn’t last long.

Therefore, going to cash machine’s brings me both joy and sadness as I have a love/hate relationship with banks. They give me money, yet they only contribute to my blissful ignorance of living in a state of denial, prancing about like I am some sort of lady of leisure.

“Wagamamas? -YES.”
“Gumbo? – YES.”
“Cocktails? – do you really need to ask?”

(maybe I just like food too much)

What I find laughable though is when, on occasion, you may actually refuse an offer to do something with the excuse of being skint, the response;

“just come, I’m skint too I had to go into my overdraft this week”

Relief comes over you hearing that you are not alone in this situation.

“it sucks doesn’t it, how much you in now?”

“like -£50”


I like to compare this situation to exam time when the smartest person in your class say’s they’re shitting it for an exam, when you know perfectly well they started exam prep three months prior and will walk out with a first. Bitch please.

Ugh, people who are good with their money annoy me. I call them boring. Because there is an upside to being in debt. With that shiny pink credit card I got a trip to thailand out of it! Yes, I may not be able to get a mortgage but hell, I drank pina coladas with tiny asian men and if that doesn’t warrant a good story then I don’t know what does.


I always think it’s funny whenever I read or hear of people using social media as a form of self escapism, re-invention or for offering a sanitized version of yourself. Most of the time that is true but it provides many functions: some people use it as a way of keeping in touch with friends; or, in my case, it’s mostly used for creeping on people (hee hee). But nothing is funnier than those that use it as a form of self promotion.

A good friend once said that “selfies are just a form of self advertising for boyfriends”.

This couldn’t be more true in my opinion.

Urban dictionary offers many explanations to the phenomena of ‘selfies’;

“a picture of yourself that is planned to be uploaded to facebook, myspace or any other sort of social networking website”

“the taking of a picture of yourself and posting it on facebook because you have extremely low self-esteem and you need people to comment to tell you how hot or pretty you look”


The latter is a tad harsh but it’s still my favourite. These days facebook looks like with the amount of selfies blocking up my newsfeed. But don’t get this post construed now, I LOVE IT.

Nothing pleases me more than seeing a photo of someone pimping themselves out for potential suiters cause let’s face it, that is basically what your doing. If it’s not used for self-promotion then what is it used for? What is the point in them?
I am all for technology helping me look better, holla, I’ll take every option available to me. But pointlessly posting a photo of yourself pouting with sincerity, why bother? People will only ever be disappointed when they see you in person because there’s no ‘x-pro 2 filter’ in real life much to my dismay.

I use social media as a form of entertainment which it certainly does provide. I think selfies are HIGHlarious, and even funnier when it’s a male culprit (oh they’re out there).

Although when you’re doing it more than once a week it starts to get boring (I recently had to unfollow half of the Kardashians from instagram, they take self admiration to another level).

But let’s take a moment to give these folk the respect and recognition they deserve because it takes guts opening up yourself for scrutiny, especially when it’s based on your appearance. This suggests that these individuals do not have “low self-esteem” or feel the need for people to comment on “how hot or pretty [they] look”, bitch please – they know they look good. Maybe those who aren’t posting selfies are envious, in fact they are the one’s who lack self-pride and confidence in their own appearance.

Or maybe they just don’t wanna look like a fanny, either way keep em’ coming.