Haters gonna hate….

I don’t know how but I seemed to of added a v cool playlist onto my Spotify.  Maybe I did it when under the influence and my cool alter ego came out (ssshhhh, I know she’s not cool at all. She’s a fuckin mess so I’m keepin that bitch buried).  Maybe my niece added it when she was over for the holidays and it was nothing to do with me (I nearly destroyed her when I put country music on one morning). Or maybe it was Alexa because she was sick of me yelling “NEXT ALEXA” (apparently I’m too harsh with her wtf)!! Anyways, however it got on there it is brilliant and for the past 2 days I have been listening to it arriving at my desk after doing the dance floor walk (you know, the one were you start by casually walking but by the time you get to the dance floor you’re full on Beyonce. If you have not seen this Peter Kay sketch go find it, it’s hilarious) and feeling ready to deal with the day no matter what it brings.

Music has the power to influence and totally drive our mood and therefore actions. It can make us happy, sad, motivated and chilled. I am always suspicious about people who don’t like music or those it has no effect on.  Maybe that would be a good research project, maybe it’s already been done. Just checked and it has, some clever dudes totes agree with me.

Here’s a little experiment download the song in the video below and listen to it next time you go outside (oh and when I say listen to it, I mean through headphones, don’t be one of those dicks who think everyone wants to listen to your music. Yes, I did just read that back but whatever).  When listening to the song see if it effects the way you’re walking and your mood. Are you full on swaggering down the road giving it your best runway walk and Naomi attitude or are you like what is she talking about, this is awful.

 

Whatever the effect, it says more about you than it does me bitches……………….sorry Naomi is still in the house.

#Slay

Love BritBird

 

 

 

 

 

You horrible bitch…….

Argh, I am so pissed off right now, I don’t often let anyone other than myself piss all over my day but as my lovely Welsh friends would say, “I’m tamping, raging, fuming.”

I am having a fab week, work has been productive, Tuesday was a day off, I received my tax refund yesterday (which went straight to pay for the desert race that I stupidly agreed to run/walk/crawl with Mr C ugh), we met our fab friends last night and had an awesome meal at Tableau Bistro and tomorrow night, we are meeting up with a load of British ex-pats for what is no doubt going to be a very messy night. So after work today I head to my Hip Hop dance class to perfect my moves to Hurricane Chris’s Halle Berry (tbh, I was shit at it, like proper shit but hey it was fun and that’s what counts right). Anyways, I finish and go to get the bus home feeling happy, famished and looking forward to whatever concoction Mr C was knocking up for dinner (okay let’s be clear about this, when I say “knocking up” that doesn’t mean Mr C is nailing (in case I need to also clear this up, when I say “nailing,” I mean fuckin, shaggin, making love etc etc) me dinner, “knocking up” is also a term for throwing something together. )

If you’re still with me after that last paragraph, first of all, well done, I read that back and got proper fuckin lost. Secondly, bear with me, I’m almost at why my blood is boiling a wee (small not urine) bit.

So, I gets on the bus and all is well (that’s not really true, all wasn’t well in the first place. Like a dumb twat, I’d forgotten me sunglasses and was getting right blinded by the sun), I’m excited to get home for me dinner and to watch our new Netflix show Safe and boom, some horror gets on me bus and totally fucks up my smug life is great vibe……..cheers love.

A family gets on, a Mum, Dad, a stroller (buggy), two little people and an even smaller one. Now, I imagine you think I’m going to start banging on about the little people and the even smaller one but no, something happened that might surprise you and for sure surprised me………………

Next stop, some older bird gets on the bus and she, is the horror who pissed all over my week. The family had their stroller in the spot where the fold up chairs are and though there was plenty of other seats this bird said loud enough for the whole bus to hear and sound like a complete bitch “can you move this so at least one person can sit down.” The family of course, shuffled the little people, even smaller one and the stroller to accommodate her request. I sit there all quiet, still being blinded by the bloody sun and thinking about me dinner. Well my inner warrior, decides that now is the time to tear herself from whatever slaying she is doing elsewhere and bless me with her presence.

The even smaller person starts kicking off and though their Dad is doing his best to calm it down, the older bird cannot hide her miserable judgey self. At first, she starts glancing up at the family disapprovingly but then she openly glares at them, starts shaking her head and starts tutting away and that’s, when my inner Warrior (Shelly) puts in an appearance.

Unfortunately Shelly didn’t have to much time to amuse herself with the miserable bird as the next stop was ours and as I mentioned before, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Mr C was knocking up for dinner. Obvs we wasn’t going to stay quiet though. I purposely walk to the front even though it wasn’t the closest exit and said to misery “what do you expect, it’s just a baby” to which she replies “mind your own business.” Now I know, the mature thing to do, would have been to shake my head in disappointment and hope that misery would reflect on her behaviour and realize she’s being a bitch. I didn’t do that. I smiled at the family, said thank you to the bus driver and called misery a “judgey cow” as I stepped off the bus.

Do you know what, I don’t even like kids, they make me itch and tbh I don’t care for anyone who can’t buy a round but this miserable woman proper got on my tits (not literally), was a horrible person and was obviously making the Mum and Dad feel uncomfortable and thought she was for some delusional reason, superior.  We taught her eh.

In other news: Mr C continues to hold onto a distinction on his MBA and though it’s not the same as my now amazing hip-hop dance skills, I do have to give credit where it’s due.

 

 

 

 

Might get a boob job……

I went to hip hop dance class last night, I’m trying to diversify my dance skills for when Bèy reaches out and asks me to star in one of her videos (I’m visualizing the fuck out of this, so it will happen soon. All you doubters can fuck right off with ya eye rolls). I must say, I reckon pretty soon I will be ready for the big time. Must remember that it’s all about patterns and that music is a road map. That’s what our instructor said and that little fella can move so I’m going to pay attention to him.

He also said that we should not act like it’s school and not to talk to people we don’t know but get to know each other and high five each other (I did eye roll then, what is it with the fuckin high fiving, you just said we’re not in high school mate). I think me asking some random bird in the changing rooms for a hair tie shows that I am happy to make friends with my fellow dancers (okay potential dancers but you should have heard our stomps, we sounded proper fierce).

If anyone is interested the classes take place at Harbour Dance Centre which is conveniently right next to a bar with a patio.

I was so unprepared that morning that I’d almost forgotten dance class, it was one of those mornings that even Eric couldn’t get me out of bed until the very last safe moment. Yep, I was hungover AF (don’t judge it was Wednesday the day before and we all know what that means). Mr C and I have been doing alright at not drinking through the week (excuse me whilst I polish my halo) so figured I should celebrate my achievement.

Okay so onto the boob thing. Back to dance class, a bird was there and she obviously had fake boobs and she was owning them. Whichever way she moved those things went right with her. Now I’m not judging (you know me, I’m no judgey bitch) on the contrary, I think it was fab that she was owning the awesomeness of her fake boobs. They obviously filled her with confidence as she proper sassed her movements up. This bird was very happy with her reflection. I on the other hand avoided the mirror (unless I knew I was dancing fabulously) and when I did get a glimpse I chastised myself for my terrible posture. My arms looked good though (I’ve been working out).

As I get older (ugh that sounds shit eh but how else do you say it. As I grow, as I mature……..they all sound shit so let’s not try and jazz it up), I do find myself looking in the mirror at those crinkly soft lines that have appeared around my eyes and wonder if a Botox injection is on the cards. Or if me boobs could do with a lift or boost or whatever you call it.  Or if I should get the hairs on me chin zapped before it turns into a full on beard and Mr C and I are fighting over the last blade!!

At the same time, as I spend this last year in my thirties, I can truly say that I am the happiest I have ever been. Life is fuckin awesome and I’m not saying that to put a positive spin on getting older, saggy boobs (okay not yet but inevitably), wrinkles or chin hair. I’m not even saying it to be an irritating positive bitch (haters gonna hate). Life just is awesome. So I’m not going to sweat the small stuff and when I turn forty I will not sink myself into a drunken stupor mourning for my youth. Okay, I will sink into a drunken stupor and I might actually mourn for my youth but I will be having fun!

In other news, he did it Mr C has talked me into signing up for racing the planet desert race . We are going to the Atacama desert in 2019 and are going to cover 250 kms in 7 days. It’s fuckin stupid I know but if you’re going to have a mid life crisis, might as well make it a challenging one!

Be whoever you want to be!!

So I didn’t let my shite performance at the last dance class put me off. I went back to RSVP 33 last night full of enthusiasm and praying my inner Beyonce was back from vacation and guess what…….bitch showed up!

I stopped thinking about the moves and just, well moved, it came to me more naturally and I was having so much fun. My inner warrior nodded her seal of approval as I flicked my hair, popped my ass out and pushed my chest forward. I am Beyonce, this is awesome, I am having soooo much fun, oh look a mirror, I should watch myself see how cool I look.

Did I look ridiculous twerking “backing it up like a U-Haul truck” (our instructors clear directions), was I the oldest bird there, covered in tattoos looking out of place flicking her hair like she was on an actual Beyonce music video.  Yep, I was all those things but you know what, I was having so much fun and laughing my head off!

To often we don’t do things that we might enjoy, through fear of looking daft or just being proper shite at it. I say, just do it fuck what anybody else thinks, you concentrate on your own happiness and if you want to be Beyonce then go head girl, you be Beyonce.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something, especially yourself!

In other news, my friends are inbound and my birthday weekend about to start. I will apologize to Vancouver now, for any offence or disruption we may cause this weekend 🙂

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Be whoever you want to be #slay

I am not Beyonce…….

This is it, this is when my outstanding dancing skills finally get recognized. I wonder how long it would take to become an instructor? Feel like I’m going to Julliard; I am a dancer, nothing can stop me (oh look Nandos, didn’t know they had them in Vancouver).  This is literally what was going on in my head when I got off the bus last night and walked to the Vancouver Dance Centre to start my 6 week Good Girl x Bad Girl dance workshop with RSVP 33.

I signed in and got in the elevator (lift for Brits) bursting with excitement. An older lady joined me and said she was also there for a class. I couldn’t imagine her shaking her booty but hey if that’s what she wanted to do, good for her. As we chatted it became apparent that she was actually here for ballet, I think we were both more at ease when we realised we wouldn’t be in the same class!

I got to the fourth floor and joined the excited group of women also waiting to release their inner Beyoncé. This is my dance crew, I thought, oh fabulous, I wonder who will end up being my BFF?!! One girl piped up “I went to the third floor by mistake and they were doing a ballet class, I watched for a few minutes. How do their bodies do that?!” I didn’t say anything but secretly thought I probably could with a little training.

The other class finished and it was our turn to go in let’s do this woop woop.

I instantly loved our instructor Kevin Fraser who gave us a run down saying “if you’re here to work out then work out, if you here to look cute and whip your hair, then you whip your hair!” Love it!

There was a cool bird helping Kevin out with his classes (she was becoming an instructor) she was v dancerish, even had her dance pants one up one down (what is that about?). We had a fab warm up and started getting into the dance mood with some chest out booty in and vice versa exercises. I was so excited, this is where I belong, at last!

We started dancing, it was part of a routine that looked easy enough, which I thought I could easily master. I was shite, like proper shite, my dreams of becoming a dance instructor flew out the window faster than a Concorde jet. I didn’t understand it, where the fuck is my inner Beyoncé, is she still on Christmas break, that bloody bitch!! I was uncoordinated, turned the wrong way and for the life of me could not get my arm to move in tune with my opposite leg…..disaster.

I did have the most fun though and was reassured watching others who were also struggling, well equally as shite as me (maybe they’ll be my new BFFs). There was also birds who picked it up straight away (smug bitches), bet their inner Beyoncé’s were right there for them.

Despite being shite, I loved the class, it was so much fun and everyone had a laugh. It’s not serious and you can do your own thing if you really want to. One girl asked Kevin “which way are you rolling your body” he showed us how he was rolling and then his assistant (the cool dancer bird) said “if the other way works for you just go that way.” Kevin shouted “options, you all have options.” This really is the general attitude, the main thing is that you have fun and I did, so much so that I am now looking to sign up for another class!! I only hope that my inner Beyoncé saw my pitiful performance and is back in time for my girls only birthday night out!

In other news, if my terrible dancing wasn’t enough to drive me into hibernation, I have also pledged to join Toastmasters. In some study conducted somewhere, it was found that people are more scared of public speaking than death. There is even a name for this fear Glossophobia. I was telling the wife how I was one of them people who hated it and how I literally go to pieces. She told me about Toastmasters and encouraged me to join, I didn’t of course, why would I put myself through that shit?!! But, new year, new me and I have decided to conquer this fear. I start Monday, will keep you posted!

Pep Talk
Getting a pep talk from my ladies before dance class!

 

 

 

This year I will mostly be mastering Pad Thai!

Well hello 2018 how excited are we all that you’re here! So just like a lot of people I’m all about “new year new me” and I’m pretty excited. 2017 was pretty awesome starting with a work promotion, a fun road trip in the middle and ending with us moving to the fabulous Vancouver.

So my new years resolution or 2018 goals for those who “don’t believe in new years resolutions” (insert eye roll) are:

#1 Master Pad Thai – the first time I ever went to a Thai restaurant was when I first met Mr C, and I got a right shitty on because you couldn’t get plain noodles Chow Mein style (these had become part of my staple diet, well actually I had them for dinner most nights with a big grease oozing spring roll). If you can imagine a scally (proper chav) sounding scouse-ish giving it pure attitude saying “whadya mean you don’t have chow mein” that was me. You can only imagine how Mr C felt though this wasn’t as bad as the time he took me to a seafood restaurant and my dinner came out with the head still intact but I digress.

After visiting Thailand and falling in love with this stunning country including the food Pad Thai became one of my fave things to eat. When I move to a new city I am always on a mission to seek out the best Pad Thai or even something that resembles the authentic version (you know not those Westernized ones covered in sauce).  When I lived in Edmonton my lovely work colleagues and I would visit Sawaddee in Sherwood Park at least once a week. The Pad Thai was so good that we always made sure we ordered the dinner size portion and not the lunch special portion. The service here was also excellent, they didn’t eye roll once when my work wife asked for extra peanuts every single time! I haven’t found my fave Pad Thai here in Vancouver yet so if anyone has any recommendations let me know.

I did have a first attempt on New years Eve at Pad Thai, I got the recipe from Nagi at Recipe Tin eats (side note Mr C thought he was hilarious when he said her name sounded like mine, he literally could not stop laughing at his own joke #dontbeatwatnath). This recipe was so yummy except we used the wrong noodles; Noodles are noodles right, no they are not you pair of tits. We ended up with a big pile of mush but even better Mr C did not shell the Prawns properly. Chewing on Prawn shell is not pleasant.

We did do a cooking class when we were in Thailand maybe I should just dig out the recipe book!

Cooking class Thailand
Enjoying the fab Thai food we cooked at Pum’s cooking school on Phi Phi Island

#2 Run a marathon – I have signed up for the Vancouver marathon in May and keep telling myself I have ages before I have to start training! This weekend I will be purchasing a lovely new running jacket and runners, it is sad I know but these things will help me to get out and started. I AM NOT MATERIALISTIC!!

#3 Visit Peru – Complete the Inca trail – Bore off with ya all inclusive holidays, why would anybody want to lounge around a pool being bought drinks all day. Sounds awful eh! We would much rather go exploring and risk becoming home to some random flesh eating bug and see the wondrous Machu Picchu.

#4 Drink less – Boooo I know boring right but Mr C and I have agreed zero drops of booze during the week. It will be interesting to see how much money we save!

I think that is enough to keep me busy.  I do also intend on getting a job in the next few weeks, I guess that should be a priority!

In other news, I have signed up for a fun looking dance workshop with RSVP 33 which a friend told me about. I just know once I’m there they will be so impressed when my inner Beyonce comes out and give me a job. That’s it, I will become an instructor woop woop. I just hope that my inner Beyonce can dance as well sober as she thinks she does when she is drunk!!