So I just remembered that I have this blog to keep up, too. (Thank you, BattyScottyperson.) I also have tumblr if you're into stalking me full time... http://gingerful.tumblr.com/ But follow with care, for I am addicted to posting quotes from anything I can and ranting and raving and such. It's slightly less formal than this blog, because I can just do it on the off ... I don't know, I think of this blog as something I should work harder at, to make it look nice and pretty and all that stuff. I don't know, I'm rambling again.

As you can see, this bloggy type thingameejig includes one of the slightly funny pictures that I saved at random quite some time ago, and which you will have most definitely seen before.

Oi, people, have you been to the site www.unrelatedcaptions.com? Some of the thingies are absolutely hilarious. Others ... well, it can be a bit hit-and-miss, but that's pretty much what happens when you have captions that aren't related in any real way to the picture.

And you've all (yes, all nought point nought nought two of you) started reading the LOLcat Bible, right? If you haven't, dear god, start reading, it's one of the best ways to waste your time.

And if you're not gonna follow me on tumblr, then I absolutely must tell you this quote:

Faerie is a world of dark enchantments, of captivating beauty, of enormous ugliness, of callous superficiality, of humour, mischief, joy and inspiration, of terror, laughter, love and tragedy. It is far richer than fiction would generally lead one to believe and, beyond that, it is a world to enter with extreme caution, for of all things that faeries resent the most it is curious humans blundering about their private domains like so many ill-mannered tourists. So go softly - where the rewards are enchanting, the dangers are real.

The Ginger Declares That Dumbledore Does, Indeed, Run This Shit

So, I realised that I haven't written a blog in a while, and that that is a MORTAL SIN -- no, not really. (I'm extremely hyper due to sleep deprivation, once again; that seems to be the only time I ever think to write a blog.

I also realise that the somewhat funny pictures I include in my blogs are really old, but whatever, they make me giggle, so I'm putting them in here (that is actually what she said; I've got a recording if you want proof).

Most of these pictures I steal from the group conversation pictures of Skype, so yeah, they have meaning to me, too, if you want to get deep into it. But they can't have that much meaning to me, considering my complete and utter lack of memory... I'm just digging myself into a deeper hole here. I like the pictures, so I put them in my bloggy-type-whatsits and if you're gonna pull a hissy fit over that you can ... go do something else.

I probably would have written this blog last night, had it not been for my mother randomly telling me that I wasn't allowed on the computer. Apparently it keeps her up at night (it took so much effort for me not to say "oo-er" when she told me that).

And guess what? My mind has gone COMPLETELY blank! Isn't that fantastic? I think I'll have to go and collapse somewhere...

A Gingerlicious Christmas

So. Christmas has been and gone - well, it's probably still Christmas for someone out there in the crazy world that is not my time zone - and it was FUN.

I stayed up till 7AM spreading love on the Ning page comment walls of my friends and when I couldn't find their Ning page, I told them on Skype. So, that was fun. I got about two hours of sleep and then got woken up to open presents. I got some pretty cool stuff, but you've probably been bombarded with people telling you about the stuff they've got, as have I, which is why I'm not going to tell you about what I got right now.

So then I went to my godparents' house, and we had a great time. My cousins (by marriage) from Hong Kong were there, which was really cool, except I was so sleep deprived that I tried to speak French to them. Nellie, the dog, opened our presents for us - she's just skilled like that - and the hat I got from the cracker kept falling off, but that was okay, 'cause it made them all laugh. Auntie Ann got steadily more drunk, and started spilling the gossip. So apparently my evil grandmother is now in a wheelchair, having drunk herself into that state. It's going to sound horrible, but to be honest, I really don't care what happens to that woman any more. She's pretty much put herself in her own shit (which is quite a funny joke if I've told you what it was like living with her). Uncle John kept shouting "BETHAN'S GOT MORE THAN ME!" which caused a great deal of laughing, and whilst we were watching the Queen's speech, I muttered, "I've had her." So yeah. Good Christmas. Fun times. How was yours, stalker-type people?

The Ginger Got A Haircut ... Finally

After six months, I finally got my idiot hair cut!

I apologise if the picture blinded you, but I'm excited about having new hair after for-flipping-ever.

I happen to be in a particularly fabulous Skype call right at this point in time. If you haven't heard about Skype, then you've been living under a rock that has been hiding under a cave in the middle of fucking nowhere. But that's okay. I'll tell you about it right now.

Skype is this programme that you can talk to people on, and you can have massive group calls, but you can only have video calls with individuals. It's pretty fricking cool, and it only shows up as one tab-type-thing on the bottom of your screen, unless you put it into compact view. (But why would you want to do that? Do you *like* having your computer spaz out because of that many chats going on? No? Didn't think so.) Now, I'm not going to sugar-coat it; Skype can lag like a motherfudging failwhale, and if you don't have a whorehouse-esque computer like myself that can hold massive calls, then the quality and all that of a call will not be that great, and the whole mood of the call can go downhill because you're just trying to get on with your call but your computer's telling you differently. But there are secret emoticons that can cause much fun, and then there's the elusive cat emoticon that newbs can never figure out how to do and get in a ragequit mood about, and if you go "/me blablabla" it turns up as "someone does this this and this" which is endless fun when you're bored and like getting addicted to talking in third person.

So obviously I spend far too much time on Skype. Get over it.

In Which The Ginger Shows Her Temper And Wastes More Of Your Precious Time

Good evening, blog-reading-people.

You may or may not know by now, but I am a grammar and spelling Nazi, as the name is on the internet. I spell things correctly ninety-nine percent of the time, and always try to make what I say make sense to those who read it. I view that as a type of courtesy; you don't have to translate what I'm saying so that you have a chance of understanding it (unless I'm using really long words, but that's a whole other story).

Now, I understand that spelling is hard for some people, especially those for whom English is not their first language. And that's fine and dandy. There are also people for whom spelling is not fun, not something that they can do very well. And that's not their fault, I know.

But seriously, when you spell something awfully wrong, and I correct it just so that you know how to spell it next time, is it really necessary to start a fight or call me names? Surely, if it bothers you, the mature thing to do would be to have a quiet word with me in a private chat and tell me so. Don't go gallivanting about in main chat calling me a prick or a stupid cunt, because I will get upset or angry, or both. And believe me, when I'm like that, I get very rude and do not care for peoples' feelings. At all.

And I'm sorry if I get muddled up and get angry at you when it was a genuine mistake and you were joking about whatever you said about me, but sometimes I have a short fuse.

As you may have figured out, I have to deal with this kind of thing rather frequently. It's not fun. And yes, I know, I have your sympathy. Of course. (If you can't detect sarcasm, get out.)

Warning: the following blog will be filled with nonsense and uninteresting blabber from a teenage girl. Escape while you can.

I suppose I should introduce myself, eh?

My name is Bethan, but you can call me Beth. Call me Bethany and I will not be happy. That is, if you ever talk to me. If not, I'm just the ginger one who rambles on. I turned sixteen a couple of days ago. I am, as you may have already figured out, a ginger. I live in the UK. I'm short. I like to spell things correctly, and it kind of annoys me when other people don't. Hurrah.

So, anyway.

It's the start of the Christmas holidays, and I'm at home. Usually, I would be on a six hour coach to London to spend a week with my dad and cousins who I can't really talk to for some reason. I dislike six hour coaches with a fierce passion; I always seem to get the worst headaches on them. Last year it got so bad that I nearly passed out. But this year I don't have to deal with any of that! I get to stay at home! And not have to put up with the awkward conversations that inevitably occur when speaking to my father, and the lack of any conversation at all when near my cousins.

This will be the first year that I actually get to spend Christmas with my mum for about seven years, and I'm really looking forward to it.

I just looked out of my window to see that the snow has stopped falling, after about an hour and a half it. There's now about two inches, not including the ice. I know that doesn't sound like a hell of a lot, but I live in a very small village, and snow is the height of excitement at this time of year.

If I ever mention the place I live in a negative light, it's because I pretty much hate the place. I'm not really made for living in such a small place. I was born in London, and then left at the age of six because my parents got divorced. It wasn't a bitter break up caused by someone cheating on someone else, it was just that they didn't like to live with each other, so that hasn't screwed up my childhood, in case you were thinking that I was going to whine about all that. My mum and I came here, and my dad still lives there. I really liked living in the city; the noise of the cars sends you to sleep if you live there long enough. And now there's just silence, so I have to listen to the endless ramblings of my mind until it gets so dull that I just fall asleep.

Oh! You might be wanting a picture of me. If not, just avert your eyes from the ugly; it'll go away soon enough.

There we go. I don't look too happy in it, and I can't remember why, but it will do for the time being, don't you think? If you don't think, then don't answer. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway.

And yes, if you were wondering, that is a purple plushy of a stick man. His name is Ralph. I wouldn't get too close to him, if I were you. He got his left leg caught in a drawer a little while ago, and ever since, he's been rather intent on revenge.

Anyway. I'm in a bit of a drawing mood, so I suppose I should get on with that. If I don't post before Christmas, have a good one, all of you, my dear, dear stalkers.