Brits Abroad…

In the last week of May my flatmates and I decided to go on an impromptu trip to Malaga in Spain.

Excellent use of student loan I must say.

Yes yes, I’ve realised that it is currently July. I’ve been busy.

Actually I’ve been lazy but I’m turning 20 in two months and apparently adults are “busy” not “lazy”.

*Stoic face*

*Adjusts wire rimmed glasses and straightens pantsuit*

*Smooths hair tendrils into smart work-appropriate chignon with…*…ok you get the point.

I digress.

^ See adult posh word.

As it turns out it wasn’t quite the typical “lads and ladettes on tour” holiday that you would expect.

Well except for the first night where we decided that buying a massive European priced bottle of Smirnoff vodka between three of us (the others arrived later) and drinking it all as screwdrivers was a good idea.

I drank the most and spent the whole night with my head down the toilet.

“Woo party!”.

Bleugh.

There were no late night clubbing adventures (we tried to go clubbing, it was more like a year 9 school disco where everyone was cramped onto a dance floor the size of a toilet and amazing tunes such as ‘Summer Lovin’ were blasted out to a near sober crowd), the alcohol was kept to a minimum….well for me at least, (I have since gained the nickname “pukette”), and there was no sex on tap (well the non-monogamous-long-term-loving relationship type…that’s what you get for living in a flat full of couples).

But we did see a lovely castle which we were given a grand tour of by the famed and internationally revered resident local tour guide (and apparent owner) Mr Abraham (thanks Kolujo 😉 ). And an amazing Flamenco show, and a beautiful cathedral, and we ate some authentic paella and we caught some rays on Malagueta beach and, and….I’ll stop. Haha.

#Tourists.

*Facepalm*

Highlights of the trip included me getting sick (as usual, did you even have to ask) and having to make a confusing and bloody expensive trip to Malaga General Hospital (could we have found a GP? Hell no); accidentally eating at the dodgiest of all dodgy cafés with questionable results; meeting a 30 year old married German man and his best friend on the beach (who surprisingly didn’t try to chat us up but did talk for a bit too long and took a few too many group pictures), meeting som Spanish boys who did try for a bit of how’s your father (with the line “do you like my body”) and arriving at the airport 6 hours to early because we thought our flight was at 6pm rather than 12am.

All in all a very successful adventure, don’t you think?

Greece anyone?

PS, Malaga is wonderful you should definitely go and visit, we stayed in a lovely flat in the heart of the city centre using airbnb.com which was a steal for the location and price! A big cheers to my flatmates for the best holiday ever :).

Overpacked and Unlucky…

Today I have come to realise one very important fact: I do not have the luck of the rabbit’s foot when it comes to team games.

Having a family mostly born and raised in East London, and coming from Essex I am an avid (in not knowledgeable) supporter of West Ham United football team (come on you Irons!)…who happen to be shit. I know, I know but come on, seriously?

I have just watched a horrifically ball-breaking World Cup game supporting…you guessed it, England. Also shit. Actually even more shit…I think I just lost at least half a full head of hair and my voice. Really Gerrard, really?

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I was in S house in school (yellow) who didn’t win the school cup for the whole 7 years I was there.

And naturally I was also yellow team at primary school sports day, in which we lost many an egg and spoon and sack race. Not that kind of sack. What’s wrong with you people.

You get my drift.

Also, put me in ANY kind of organised sports team and I will bet on myself that I will lose. 100/1.

I got scratched to pieces at school netball games (I’m serious, all girls grammar school netball players are vicious…and Essex ones at that tend to have particularly long talons), I dislocated my knee playing school hockey, I near drown if i try to swim for too long and don’t even get me started on indoor sports (dodge ball and basketball are terrifying when you’re five foot one).

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So when people like job interviewers ask me, “so, do you enjoy any extracurricular sport?”

“Ooohhh…errr…oooh…well…I like dancing”.

*Hopeful face*

*Crickets*

I suck.

I cannot join any sports societies at uni…I’ve found the hard way that you don’t get medals just for the taking part at this age.

Even when you plead puppy eyes.

No; cowering in the corner and ducking when a rugby ball hurtles towards you at 60 miles an hour is not acceptable…even though its scary. Shouldn’t there be laws against these things?

Ok so it was only going 10 miles an hour. So sue me.

*Petulant face*

Can someone please invent a non competitive, non contact, ball-less sport for me to play please and thank you.

Oh and a good team for me to support that’s none of the following: Arsenal, Chelsea, Man U….actually any of the existing ones.

I need it for my CV.

It’s “character building”, “encourages participation” and “teaches teamwork”.

P.S. On the note of jobs and CV’s I will be moving to the sunny land of the South of France in July to start work at a beautiful little hotel. Look out for mischief, mayhem and disasters. On an Overpacked and Underpaid near you, July 1st, Certificate 12-18…depending on the shenanigans…not those shenanigans…other ones…ones that don’t involve that…okay. *Awkward cough*. See you there!

The Liebster Award

*Makes a swishy entrance in large floppy hat, kaftan, bangles and sunglasses*

Oh hello there, haven’t seen you for a while…I’ve just been busy…you know, traveling, finding myself, learning the arts of yoga, hybrid flowga and feng shui and uncovering the true meaning of life through my own self improvement and discovery.

LOL

Actually I’m sat at my uni kitchen table in a blanket hanging like a wet jumper on a washing line.

JÄEGERBOMBS ARE POISON.

I really don’t have an excuse as to why I have failed to blog for over a month..or two (shhhhhhh).

I will accept my punishment.

Not that type of punishment you filthy beggars, put down the Fifty Shades of Grey…yes that’s it…now step away slowly…you can do it…no stop it…stop…put your hands away…in your pockets…well done.

Did you miss me?

Not even a little?

On my grand return to the blogosphere, I discovered that the lovely Bella, fellow blogger, Exeter lass and all around girl about town (I don’t know this for sure, I’ve never met her but she has a very lovely blog so one must make assumptions…go check her out, that’s an order) has nominated me for a Liebster award, so sit back and listen to me waffle on about myself.

Vain?

Me?

Nooooo

Here are the rules:

  • Share 11 facts about yourself
  • Answer the 10 questions set to you
  • Come up with 10 more questions
  • Nominate some other bloggers to take part!

 

  1. I hate talking about myself. Really…you don’t believe me? And this doesn’t count as a fact? Ok fine I’ll do another number one.
  2. I LOVE watching movies…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen every rom-com since the turn of the noughties. I’m currently taking a film class which means I can put this hobby to actual use.
  3. I stand at the grand old height of 5’1. Yes, I maybe pint sized but I’m hella powerful…I can totally lift like 3, 4 pounds…on a good day.
  4. I am a walking furnace. I radiate heat like the depths of hell. If the ice age ever returns, you have permission to grab me for life saving warmth.
  5. Despite this fact I adore summer, even though I “glow” like the north star. Nothing better than lying in the sun for a good couple of hours…or 20. Oh how I miss the luxury of holidays…oh the tan, oh the cocktails *le sigh*
  6. I am famous in my student flat for my undying love for the Taco who doesn’t love tomato-ey beef in a crispy shell covered with cheese *foodgasm*.
  7. And on that Mexican note…Tequila is my kryptonite.
  8. I am also addicted to crisps, to the extent where my mum even sent me an article on the fact that its the crunch of the crisp that I’m actually hooked on. Probable one of the most unhealthy addictions you can have. Please tell me there’s a crisp addiction clinic…do any of you know hypnosis?
  9. My biggest movie crush is probably Jude Law in The Holiday *drools*.
  10. At the grand old age of 19, I still have a little bit of a Sims addiction. Freeplay anyone? I know, I know, I’m just that cool right?
  11. I am the modern day Imelda Marcos, I am a self proclaimed shoe-aholic. I have too many pairs to count…don’t ask, my GCSE maths doesn’t stretch to those kind of figures.
  12. I don’t play any musical instruments…or any sports. Tried piano once, couldn’t move one hand separately to the other #epicfail.
And here are the answers to the questions Bella set me:
  1. What did you want to be when you were little? A teacher, a dancer, a mummy, a princess…ohh the fun I had dressing up my brother and cousins.
  2. Was there a particular blog that got you into blogging? What was it? Not in particular, but I started off reading fashion blogs from my favourite YouTubers.
  3. Where is somewhere in the UK you would love to visit but haven’t yet? I have always wanted to go to Ireland. This has absolutely nothing to do with the Irish accent. Nothing at all.
  4. What’s your biggest guilty pleasure? *Cough* food *cough*. If you hadn’t already noticed from the above.
  5. If you could only listen to 1 song for the rest of time, what would it be? My Baby Just Cares for Me by Nina Simone. Oh the times I pranced and trotted along to this tune.
  6. Where was the first place you went on holiday? My first holiday was to Disneyland. I was too young. I remember nothing. I will never forgive my parents.
  7. What’s your favourite month? September, the month of birthday presents, Indian summers and golden leaves.
  8. What’s your favourite book? Probably Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.
  9. Describe your dream house (briefly!) It has a jacuzzi and an indoor swing. The rest is negligible.
  10. What’s your supermarket of choice? ASDA all the way *slaps bum to advert theme tune*. Cheap? Who me?
My questions are:
  1. Where do you want to travel to?
  2. Tell us a funny story.
  3. What is your dream job?
  4. Why did you decide to start blogging?
  5. Who would play you in a movie about your life?
  6. Do you have any secret skills/party tricks?
  7. What is your favourite film?
  8. What would your super power be?
  9. Tell us your favourite/worst chat up line.
  10. If  you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

I tag Kate, Zooey, Alex, Pretty Vacant Pirate, Drown in Melancholy and Seb, (should they wish to answer my terrible questions) and anyone else who wants to join in!

 Ready, set, GO!

Merry Christmas!

I’m a 4 year old.

I actually woke my mum up this morning because I was so excited for Christmas (well to be honest I do this every year but hey).

I don’t know if its the fact that I’ve been away at Uni, or just purely the fact I’m a Christmas nut but I just can’t contain my excitement, I’m bouncing off the walls.

Its one of the only days of the year where its guaranteed that I’ll wake up feeling elated…you know when you feel like you could just burst from happiness?

Would you like some hamburger with that cheese, Laura?

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Anyway, in the Christmas spirit, I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has read my blog this year, left me comments and been generally supportive. The other day I reached over 1000 views and I couldn’t be happier so THANK YOU.

I wish all of you health, happiness and prosperity, and the best Christmas Day (or whatever you may celebrate today) you could ask for.

Love,

Laura

They see me tempin’ they hatin’…

I’ve been up all night, tryna get that rich I’ve been work, work, work, work working on my shit.

So, as it turns out, not only was I able to secure a little part time job at uni, but I’ve also been offered a Christmas temp position back at home (say what?).

Such fun!

(Not)

I hate it.

I’d envisioned spending the entirety of my Christmas holiday watching movies, seeing my friends, reading and soaking in a bubble bath.

Now I have to get up at 6am to catch a bus to the city.

The other day I was so tired I didn’t realise my watch was an hour fast so I accidentally waltzed out of the shop early, only to realise the actual time and have to awkwardly (and very stealthily I might add, I wasn’t voted most likely to work for Mi5 for nothing you know) creep back in and finish.

I ended this day spending five minutes trying to push open a pull door.

In front of a colleague.

Professionalism?

Nailed it.

It does have its perks though…

…like the other day I had a very funny conversation with an exasperated old man who was fed up following his wife around Christmas shopping.

I asked him if he was at least carrying her bags for her…his reply?

“No she likes carrying them…its a thing with you women isn’t it…the more bags you’ve got on your arms the better you feel”.

She wasn’t too impressed when she found him slacking off talking to me haha.

And…

And…

Ok I’m out of positives.

I spend the majority of my days manning the fitting rooms, which are empty 80% of the time so I’m insanely bored.

In fact I’ve been working on a little something something in my spare time.

“How to get Fired from your Retail Job” a self help book by Laura.

With highlights such as “have sex in the changing rooms” and “walk out before your shift ends”.

I’ll follow it up with the sequel “The Bus” an anecdotal book by Laura.

What was that?

You wouldn’t read either of them?

Well shit.

I guess I better stick at it then.

*Skulks off to changing rooms”

“Yanks curtains closed”

Christmastime, Mistletoe and Jäeger…

That’s the lyrics, right?

Good old Cliff, the cheeky minx.

And so this post (more than) officially concludes my first term at uni…I clearly have an A* in timekeeping, I actually came home on the 12th.

*Slow clap*

We most definitely ended the year on a bang.

All of my flatmates and I headed to our local-est of local haunts and had the weirdest night ever….we’re convinced we all fell into some kind of Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole.

Think ecstasy without the…err ecstasy.

In my case, after one too many Jäegerbombs (bought by a very nice guy at the bar…did drunk Laura stay and thank him? Nope…she drank two, handed the rest to her friends and strutted off into a door..yes, into #nailedit….I digress) I decided to go for an “epic” adventure.

Aka I tottered off alone to a bench outside our flat to “get some air”.

Seems I have a little bit of a penchant for the outdoors when I’m tipsy (pissed)…I once made my flatmate lap a very drunk me around our uni accommodation eight times because I was “enjoying the breeze”.

There are no words.

(Thanks babe.)

Whilst there a very *handsy* arse decides to try and hit on me…I shoved him off, got up to leave and fell smack bang onto my chin.

It was the heels.

I swear.

It wasn’t.

I lied.

How-to-test-if-Youre-drunk-meme-cat-kitty-kitten

It hurt.

And I didn’t get a kiss under the mistletoe.

Turns out I then decided this was a reasonable enough trigger to get home and full on ugly cry, only to find most of my other female flatmates in tears too.

what-the-fuck-is-this

No one will ever truly know what went down that night.

Oh, hang on…

…maybe it was just that creepy bartender…

…you know…

…the one pouring our drinks.

original

All in all we had a great last night out though, and a great term. I miss them all already!

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And so, in the words of my spirit animal, Bridget Jones…

December 16th, year-end summary:

Prison stays, none.
Alcohol poisonings, two.
Lesbian kisses (don’t ask), three (minds OUT of gutters).
Pounds lost, minus one (okay minus seven).
Boyfriends lost but then regained following major diplomatic incident, none #forveralone.
Marriage proposals, see above.
Boys kissed, you guys are such pervs, honestly.
New friends made, six (I hope).

An excellent year’s progress.

Overpacked and Underpaid has most definitely not cocked things up for the very last time.

Pinkie promise.

😉

Workin’ 9 to 5…

So as it turns out, Overpacked may just be on her way to being paid.

Yes you did just read that right.

And yes, I am well aware that I sound like a pretentious twat when I refer to myself in the third person.

Such fun.

Not overpaid mind you, which is what I actually want…just nicely minimum waged up.

I’m actually a little bit chuffed…I thought I’d absolutely cocked up the interview.

In the first place I forgot that I even had it at all.

You know that memory wipe phenomenon you get when walking through doorways…yeah…well I had that in reverse.

There I go lah di dah di dah…walking into the kitchen at half twelve to warm up my soup for lunch then…

…BOOM.

Brain presents me with *interview at 1*.

*Hand flourish*

*Fanfare*

23 19, I repeat we have a 23 19.

Monsters Inc. reference….yes?

No?

I of course lose my shit and run flailing out the front door, calling a taxi and then cancelling the taxi when I realise it’s actually going to arrive too late.

I contemplated walking (power walking…running).

Fuck that.

Bus it was.

I arrive in the nick of time…but then of course my Google maps decides it’s going to lead me in the completely wrong direction.

YOU HAD ONE JOB.

By the time I’d reached the top end of the high street I realised how hopelessly lost I was, and had to call the interviewer and ask for directions.

Professionalism?

Nailed it.

Anyways, I must have done something right, in the New Year I should be settling into the position of Customer Service Assistance at a beautiful little high end espresso cafe.

She said they needed smiley people like me at the front of house.

I think she confused “smiley” with manic.

Personally I think I looked a little more like this:

And what do I have to do in that position you ask?

LITERALLY smile and wave boys.

Smile and wave.

…Oh and carry (smash) the crockery.

P.S. Keep your fingers crossed for me will you? Pretty please. Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Do you have a plaster?

Based on recent estimates, I now believe that I spend around 90% of my free time (and 100% of my…err….non-free time) staring at pictures of men…

Hundreds of them, all on my phone.

No…I haven’t just gotten cozy with the university rugby team, or the football team, or the lacrosse team…

Le grande sigh.

And no I haven’t (more likely) discovered Porn in Your Pocket or Porn2Go or Porns ‘R’ Us or whatever those sites are called (please tell me none of these are actually real websites)…

In actual fact my flatmates persuaded (forced me pain of death) to get Tinder.

Now I’m addicted.

In the words of Howard from Fresh Meat…I’ve already completed it once.

Yes, you heard me right…when I first got it I was so interested on flicking everyone into the no pile, I actually exhausted all the men in my area (HAHAHA….hahaha ha..ha…no…I wish).

I’ve now had to make a new profile which I shall handle with more care.

Must….resist…the….X….button…

*Hand shakes*

Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely no intention of actually talking to these people…

In fact I was actually quite pissed off when I found out that the whole purpose of the App was for it to be a dating tool…why can’t I just stalk people in peace? In the privacy of my own home…without them knowing about it….

Plus the majority of the guys on here are absolute twats.

No offence.

But seriously.

You don’t even want to know some of the chat up lines I’ve been sent.

The only one I could give credit to so far would have to be “I wish you were my big toe”….”so I can bang you on all the furniture in my house”.

I spat out my water.

I am in no way recommending you get this App.

For the sake of your own sanity and yes, physical health (The Illest MF Alive guy popped up on screen just after I logged on for the first time…I fell off the bed in shock…you know that weird feeling people are watching you…yeah…that) DO NOT DOWNLOAD IT.

In fact, your general sense of paranoia will be permanently increased…like what if you accidentally bump into one of these people in real life….what if they recognize you from your profile…what if Facebook decides that they’re going to suddenly post everyone’s dating preferences and subsequent conversations online…

You just downloaded it didn’t you.

Naughty.

I tried.

*Surreptitiously opens App*

The Illest MF Alive…

Oh yeah, the title of this post is totally a Kanye West reference…told you I was gangsta.

*Tumbleweed*

In all seriousness though, once again some sneaky bastard has infected me with their pathogens…I’ve only just managed to surface from the depths of my bed fort to write this.

Not only do I have a hacking cough, a fever, a sore throat and nausea, but I’m also sporting a fucking sexy nose whistle.

Thank god I’m a girl…the sheer amount of tissues overflowing my litter bin would have raised a few eyebrows by now.

Maybe I shouldn’t say “sneaky bastard” I do kind of know the reason I’m sick.

Ok fine, I know exactly why…

I went out with my friends the other day to my favourite club and had a bit of a “moment”.

There I was boogieing the night away when a cute guy came up to dance with me…

*Cue slow motion turn around, eyes meeting, seductive smile*

Pfft, yeah right.

Come on guys, this is me we’re talking about.

I, in fact, didn’t notice him and carried on dancing, flailing my arms around and by accident punched him on the nose.

TWICE.

Of course I turned around and apologised profusely, he lifted me off the ground in a hug and said it was all fine.

We danced together.

Ten minutes later, I look down and notice I have blood on my arm.

Turns out I hit him so hard he got a nosebleed.

…I’ll let that sink in for a minute…

…How much better do you feel about your life right now?

Uh huh.

Anyway he ran off to go and get cleaned up and I legged it to the bathroom and met back up with my friends, not expecting to see him again.

A little while later I turn around and there he was so we dance together for a while until the DJ says “in ten seconds I wanna see everyone jump”.

On one he picks me up in front of the whole club and kisses me.

THIS.

THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED TO ME.

I DIED.

Then he did it again.

We sat down for a bit and exchanged numbers, and I had to resist his advances with the whole ‘wrong time of the month’ excuse, which I can inform you, is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever had to say to another person in my entire life.

Praise the lord for vodka.

Don’t you just love mother nature?

When I got up to leave, instead of a sexy sashay away,  I managed to walk straight into a bar stool and almost stacked it in my heels…

FAIL, Laura, FAIL.

And yet for some unknown reason I arrived home to a goodnight text.

I handed to my more experienced flatmate to deal with.

Bad idea.

Rather than the mysterious allure I was going for, it resulted more in a bit too much obvious flirtation and way too many winky faces for my liking.

Then the alcohol buzz wore off and now everything is just very awkward.

In fact I walked past him on the way back from the Co-Op the other day and had to resist the urge to throw myself sideways into a hedge.

*Cringe-fest*

And I wonder why I’m still single.

Oh, did I mention he had a “cold”?

So now I’m both sick and sad.

All care packages to my bedroom please.

Stop it, minds out of gutters.

What am I going to do with you guys.

*Smh*

Having nun of it…

They’re dropping like flies…

I’ve just found out that a SECOND person from my school year has gotten engaged…at NINETEEN.

I, on the other hand, have decided to become a nun…

According to Wiki How all I need to do is be single (check), not be on my deathbed (check), lack any dependents (check) and be in good physical and financial standing (well if you ignore my overdraft and penchant for bacon sandwiches, check).

I then have to socialise with the “in group” of nuns, do research on the internet, attend a weekend at a Mother House and go through an initiation process…

…hang on a minute, this sounds suspiciously like rushing for a sorority.

Who would have thought…Wikipedia…unreliable?

Ok, so maybe I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in a convent…but you know you’ve got a problem when your fifty year old mother has a better sex life than you….

I spoke to her this morning on the phone…I was moaning about the fact I’m forever alone and she was all…

“Oh I’m so tired *yawns*, I was up all night with him”

“Oh we’re just popping over to Tenerife together for a few days to get a bit of sun”

*Throws up in plant pot*

If you can’t tell me and my best mate alcohol have been reunited over the past few days…

…well I had to do something to counteract the fact that I now own a Sainsbury’s Nectar card, spend my weeknights baking cookies and sometimes find the walk in heels to the club in town too much of an effort for it to be worth going out.

Hand me the Ovaltine and no one gets hurt.

Maybe its time to invest in that BOB.

He he.