A not-so-formal introduction

Hey, hey yeah you… oh hello there (ooh, new friends)

Before we get into the nitty gritty, we thought it’s only fitting to introduce ourselves to you. Stranger danger and all that. If you didn’t know already, there’s three of us: Red, Island Girl and B; urrr yeah of course they’re our real names, pfft. We lived together at University and now live hundreds of miles apart, sad I know. So we decided to create something fabulous for you, yeah you reader. Just a play by play of the mishaps, misfortunes and all together bumpy ride of trying to become an adult… it’s not going well so far. So without further ado, introducing (drum roll please)….

Red: Likes long walks, if theres food at the end of it, Gin – any gin – and lemonade (don’t judge me), food, un-healthy generally… just hold the peppers, and freeing the nipple on a daily basis (bras are for Losers, jokes I just don’t have any boobs). A tinder profile to end all tinder profiles! Anyway enough of that crap….

I’m Red, or formally known (if you’ve read About Usas the one and only P-A-R-T-Y gal. Well, not as often now-a-days, small town dives just aren’t the same as the city beacons of hope in the form of an Atik or Warehouse Super Club. Although, I’m a firm believer in ‘its what you make of it’. I’m from a small town and my closest friends at home consist of three girls and a toddler. Nothing weird or anything, just my BFFL’s offspring (I’m stinky butt butt to her).

I’ve been told I have the worst resting bitch face in town. It’s literally just my face? But under the blunt exterior I’m a lad(ette)s best friend, count on me to make you giggle, sprinkle sunshine and get you into all sorts of sticky situations you’ll live to love/regret but mostly love.  The other two will tell you just how renowned I am at always getting into the worst situations humanly possible, you just couldn’t make this shit up. Trust me.

Happy reading, oh and I advise taking anything I’ve written with a pinch of salt and a dash of hot sauce. Love ya,


Island Girl: This title may make me sound like an exotic Caribbean queen – but trust me, I’m not. I do live on an Island, but to my dismay it’s much closer to Scotland than to Miami. I’m currently stuck at home living with my parents and my cat Herman, who is pretty much my only friend on this Island . ATM I’m working as a chef (I may or may have not just exaggerated my cooking abilities to make me sound cooler) and am about to film a tv cookery programme in September. This sounds super adult-like but let me give you some deets:

  1. The cookery programme just involves me and my mum….
  2. I am so not prepared for the online trolling that will proceed said programme
  3. The producer actually told me last week that he could ‘stretch the screen to make me look skinnier’… cheers for the confidence boost bbz.
  4. I’m envisioning myself as a blonde Nigella… but unless I lose 5 stone and sort out these highlights I think I’m going to end up as more of a Hairy Biker… or Hairy Baker… if you will.

Just like my besties Red and B, I’ll be keeping you updated with my not-so-adventurous adventures, and sharing the real struggles of a twenty-something university graduate who still doesn’t know whether to refer to herself as a girl or a woman.

Kiss Kiss,


B: My current position describes my life down to a T: drinking coffee, eating a cheese toastie and stroking my dog at my parent’s house (in my pyjamas). Yup, that’s me. Somewhere between now and about two years ago I decided that it would make a lot more sense to live in pyjamas – and trust me, it is.

Oh, and the name B is purely because I am too lazy to think of anything fancy and sophisticated like the other two ^ – prime example of how I’m about as useless as the letter ‘g’ in lasagna (mmm, lasagna). Anyway, I digress…

Sometimes I feel quite intelligent, but other times I have to sing the ABC song in my head to remind myself which letter comes next and remember that I’m not. I am 100% a food-y and love anything about food, but it’s mostly the eating part. Hence my first thought when someone mentions the word ‘thigh gap’ is the distance between me and a piece of garlic and herb chicken.

But I definitely wouldn’t consider myself as lazy, I’ve just never seen anyone jogging and smiling, so why bother?

I hope you enjoy reading about my struggles in ‘adulting’, whilst I live at home in a little village on a quest to find out how to make it into the real-world.

N.B. If I say “the other day,” it could mean any time up to a year ago. Mwah,


Happy reading,


p.s. Head on over to is this real life? to discover nip slip catastrophes and interview rejection self help guides inspired by hideous personal experiences.