I know, I know. I am late. I am sorry – If you really want someone to blame, it’s the person that created wine. So, just in case you didn’t know…It’s MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY (and Alex’s), but really we all know it’s all about ME.
LIKE HOLY BLOODY SHIT I’M TWENTY! I AM 1/4 OF THE WAY TO GETTING ONE OF THOSE FUNKY-ASS WHITE SEATS THAT MEANS I WILL NEVER HAVE TO CLIMB A FLIGHT OF STAIRS EVER AGAIN!
So for this very special birthday blog I’m just going to walk you through 20 of my most feral fuck ups (or at least 20 that are PG enough to post online) from my last 20 years – prepare yourselves.
LETS GO BIATCHES!
FUCK UP #1
Let’s start at the beginning shall we, you’re 11, chubby and you look like a foetal Willy Wonker.
So, obviously, my extreme desire for attention was present from birth. Somehow I thought it would be extremely funny on my last day of Junior School to create an Afro out of my broken Bieber bob. Little did I know that that day I was destined for greatness and that I, Lucy Sheriff (and Alex because its unfair to chose between twins), would be crowned HEAD GIRL. There was a roar of admiration (A.K.A laughter) when I strutted my frizzy hive up on that stage. And I can promise you, I have never seen a person regret their decision more, than my head teacher when she called my name and a sexy mother fucker, looking similar to the hot stuff below, stood up.
It was my Afro picture that represented our school for the following year and I have to say I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD!
FUCK UP #2
Now, if you’ve read my earlier blogs, you will know that as a child I looked more like a young Ed Miliband than anything else; this fetching look continued well into my hormonal years.
This led to some très cute nicknames. It was on one fateful trip to Thorpe Park, that I was christened with my very first nickname that was set to nitro boost my sex appeal. After about 10 minutes of my friends thinking I was ignoring them, they tapped ‘me’ on the shoulder, only for a very confused Mexican man to turn around. And here was the birth of José. A beautiful name that highlighted all my womanly features. After a little help from RoyLAD, it was later agreed upon that Dave was also a spectacular alternative. But at least it was better than ‘Lucy the Lesbian’, or ‘Leslie’ for short and later just ‘Lesbian’ #OnlyGayInTheVillage – worst part being I fully embraced that name!
FUCK UP #3
So, if you have read my other blogs, you will know that I have a twin – Alex. Growing up we would get ourselves into all sorts of SHITuations. Literally. When we were about 8 we had a dog called Jakie and we used to put his poop down the manhole in our garden (classy I know). One day after Alex had just put the manhole cover back on, we started play fighting when I then heard a scream. IT WAS LIKE HELL HAD JUST GONE AND SUCKED HER RIGHT UP. Suddenly the cover had come loose and all that was left of Alex was her head and a single foot sticking out of the manhole. She was literally surrounded by shit. I AM A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING. Most sisters would run for help: it’s a 6 foot drop, she could really hurt herself. I, on the other hand, laughed so fucking hard I peed myself, and I just left her there. Eventually my parents came out to find her desperately trying to avoid a free fall into a pool of our dog and neighbours’ shit whilst I howled with laughter on the floor with a rather unsanitary trouser stain. Sometimes it really surprises me that Alex still loves me.
FUCK UP #4
So, we lived in a village, where there is FUCK ALL to do. Me and Alex were about 12, and I decided it was a fucking great idea to make a couple more rope swings. So I hung one up in our garden and obviously made Alex try it first. Somehow, she went from standing, to literally hanging from a tree by her foot within seconds. Being a pubescent teen, her boobs were practically in her nostrils and she was shamelessly flashing me, our nosy neighbour, and Jesus. This time I tried to help her (‘tried’ being the operative word). I used garden shears to cut the rope but I hadn’t planned how I would catch Alex. She fell, smacked her head on the concrete and eventually opened her eyes to the pathetic sight of me crying, begging her not to tell Mumma Sheriff and RoyLAD – Self Preservation Society. History is known to repeat itself, and well it goddamn did.
A couple of weeks later Alex made yet another fatal error in agreeing to try another one of my death swings. In hindsight I really should have assessed how far away the thorn bush was. Within minutes Alex had a 3 cm thorn embedded in her leg. She had to go to hospital and got all high, and I watched Emmerdale and got to eat her fish fingers for tea – once again I motherfucking nailed it.
FUCK UP #5
Living somewhere with so little to do meant I was forever trying to entertain myself. So naturally this meant forts, dens and camp outs. But, once again, my corn beef brain just doesn’t process shit properly. I must have been the only 10 year old who nearly got their family evicted because she decided to use the railway line as a sledging track… Twice. I also must be the only person who after that experience then goes and builds a camp out on Private Property and nearly gets fucking evicted again. Lucy Sheriff, making great life choices since 1996.
FUCK UP #6
I played a lot of football growing up – if you’ve seen my other posts and have seen me in a tutu you will understand why. I’ve had my fair share of injuries, but when I was about 12 I was kicked in the face – HARD. My jaw dislodged, swollen face, and I couldn’t even swear about it! So, obviously RoyLAD, being the LAD he is, decided that the most appropriate course of action was to give me an ice pack and go to the pub to watch the Liverpool game. 4 hours later, when I finally went to A&E, my concussed ass sat itself down and attempted to eat a sandwich to the harmonic background tunes of a nurse cursing at my father and something about child abuse. But patience has never been my strong point and eating ALWAYS has. In a frenzy of hunger and lust, I managed to pop my own jaw back in whilst ramming a cheese and pickle triangle into my face. The nurse ran in to see me crying, bleeding and smothered in pickle. From this I learnt two very important lessons:
1 – Nothing comes between RoyLAD and football
2 – Food solves EVERYTHING!
FUCK UP #7
Growing up in the middle of fucking nowhere does not mean I did not experience aspects of gang-related crime. Only difference is that, once again, I am the cause of my own misery and my gang rival was a middle-aged farmer. This turf war lasted years! And I have to say, there is nothing better for your cardiovascular fitness than being shot at by a fucked-off farmer because you, once gain, crushed his crops. And there’s nothing better for his cardiovascular fitness than chasing you around the woods every few days. #InsideCountryFile
FUCK UP #8
Tattoos are something I love. But, once again, my inability to think even the simplest task through means I now am now a part-time Kiwi and a keen member of the Illuminati. If you don’t know what I mean, you need to get your ass over to my Tattoo Throwback post!
FUCK UP #9
Brain farts have been a continual problem throughout my life. It’s not as if I chose to be a complete spanner – it simply comes naturally.
During first year I had one of my best friends come stay. After trees falling on his train, tinder creatures and 3 bottles of wine, things started to get messy. So, I wrote my address on his arm and the next thing I know we’re in a bar casually (and loudly) insulting everyone around us for being ‘Too Hipster For Hampshire’, in Wales. It is at this point that my brain becomes a black hole with an aftertaste of tequila. Suddenly, it’s 4am and I wake up in bed, naked. I hear my name being yelled and it is at this moment I realise… I Fucked Up. I am alone. My friend is not here.
I ran out of my flat in a bra and trackie bottoms to be met by 4 members of another flat (it was a really great introduction), holding one limb each of my clothe-less best friend, whilst he insisted his name was James because he ‘didn’t want to get arrested’. His name has never been James. He then proceeded to violate my poor shower tiles and scare the crap out of my flatmate by crawling into the wrong bed, just to then pass out in my hallway. So if you think forgetting the one person you had to look after, leaving them smashed in a strange city until they had to ask a homeless man for help would be the only way I could fuck up within those 48 hours – you would be so very wrong!
When we woke up it is fair to say we were both hanging out of our feral asses, though one of us more so. I went to lectures and when I returned there was just the remains of a broken human being. Long story short, within 5 hours we had called an ambulance because I had managed to get my bestie so drunk I had induced a viral flu and he was unconscious. NOW I REALLY GONE FUCKED UP. But it does not end there! The saga continues, after spending all night in A&E (he was fine in the end, by the way), I went to football. 10 minutes into the game, I came down with the same flu, subbed off and passed out under a pile of coats – so if you ever want to come visit me at Uni, well just don’t, because it’s clear I can only look after moi (and even that’s only a part-time occupation).
FUCK UP #10.
Again, if you’ve read my previous blogs, you may have heard this story mentioned before. I talked recently of the horrors of Odds On which has led to some shit life choices. There’s nothing better than being held down on a chair whilst your mate’s earring, sterilised in Vodka and Lemonade, is rammed through your ear! Especially when it take 3 attempts. Not that this experience has ever stopped me from doing it to anyone else…
FUCK UP #11
Some of my life choices are quite frankly legendary (and not at all over the top!)! Just like after the Lash when a slightly inebriated Math’s Fresher decided it was okay to put his podgy hand up my skirt. So naturally, rather than yelling or hitting him, I smashed a canvas painting over his head and made him try and eat his way out – I’m not even sorry.
FUCK UP #12
A main skill of mine during Fresher’s was the art of projectile vomiting – sexy, I know. This skill progressed as the year went on and eventually I had not only thrown up in nearly all of the Senior members of Ladies Football’s house, but I would always wake up after most socials covered in the not-so-cute version of a VK . Chunder Champ really is an understatement!
FUCK UP #13
Sometimes however, I lack serious class (and Polish Vodka destroys human souls). Only I could managed to chunder on the bottom of the bride’s dress at her reception, for her then to have to attempt to sweep it up whilst I’m carried to bed. It was 11.30. This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to represent Britain. To the beautiful bride, if you’re reading this, I love you and please forever have my apologies – I really am a stain on humanity!
FUCK UP #14
This beautiful trait also runs in my family. I returned home from University last year to be woken by a strange woman in my room. Naturally I freaked the fuck out, only to go and see Alex passed out on the floor. After I got her into bed, she was asleep for all of 5 fucking minutes before she rolled over and threw up all over me! LORD, PLEASE TAKE ME NOW, I AM FINISHED WITH THIS EARTH! Now a nice sister would try and help her. I am not that sister. 10 hours later Alex woke up covered head to toe in her own disgrace and I woke up clean and dry on our sofa.
FUCK UP #15
But of course, this shit streak doesn’t end there! No, we’ve still got to consider Post-Lash antics. Because what better way is there to wake up after a HEAVY night of diminishing your own self-respect whilst dressed in a bed sheet and oven gloves, than by your landlord and an electrician whilst you’re BUTT NAKED in bed? I would have said ‘I’m sorry’, but I was too hungover to form human words, all that came out was a sound closest to a whale’s mating call and one single tear.
FUCK UP #16
But these kinds of antics started way earlier than Uni. I mean who else do you know who has woken up in their underwear in a cold bath with their best friend surrounded by Vodka and Nutella (THIS IS NOT A SEX REFERENCE) whilst Sam Smith played beautifully in the background? Just to then walk into college late, in their pyjamas, still drunk and then fall asleep in their first class. Only to wake up, find everyone staring at them, PANIC, and yell ‘Stalin’. I don’t think I was even in History.
FUCK UP #17
And alcohol made my already bad habits so much WORSE! It’s no secret in my village, that cute, little, childhood Lucy loved nothing better than running around in just a pair of shorts pretending she was one of the Lads – I looked like fucking Mowgli. So this lasted until I was about 12, only joking, until 11 and then I had my pre-bra crying fit in M&S (don’t understand? better read my other blogs!). But, it was not long until my inappropriate stripping began again! But many years trapped beneath a T-shirt meant my pastey ass skin was so pale it was a risk to the human eye, ‘White Like Moonlight’. I was like something you attach to your bike before riding at night! I wish I could say I didn’t do this anymore, or that I never do this in public, but that would be a lie!
FUCK UP #18
And how many times can you say you’ve been carried out of a party by your belt for underage drinking under the watchful eyes of a mighty fine policeman, only to arrive hungover and in full cretin mode at a fair the next morning to find you’re working with this same beautiful human all day? And he definitely remembers you.
FUCK UP #19
And alcohol has got me in some other rather peculiar situation…there was that guy…yeah let’s not talk about that… And then there was prison eyes… but again… let’s not talk about that… And then there was the snail shell incident… but yeah… I’m just going to stop now…*shivers*
THE FINAL FUCK UP
Let’s just say if you’ve got someone who will willingly get in and crash a trolly with some chick who says she knows you, who will kiss a middle-aged man in a gay bar just to get a free drink, and who wakes up with an eyegina tattooed on their wrist – then you must be blessed. If you don’t, then you better hit follow!
So there are 20 of my most cretin moments (at least 20 that I am willing to publish online). I am now middle-aged and therefore will be retiring from any fun, all happiness and future smiling is now cancelled.
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If you didn’t see my post on the Facebook page, there will be no Thursday blog, so see you motherfuckers on Sunday!
I’m going to go take a paracetamol and comatose myself in bed – NO HANGOVER WILL DEFEAT ME!
Peace Out Lads xo
Written by Lucy Sheriff
Edited by Sofia Pritchard