There's a rat in my kitchen what am I gonna do?

Being from a small town in the middle of nowhere has had its fair share of issues for me over the years, issues such as having to travel miles to get to the nearest half decent shop and of course any chance of a late night McDonald's is long forgotten when you consider the effort it would take to get one. These things are just a couple of reasons why I love Southampton, although its not a big city for a little almost country bumpkin like myself Southampton offers a far more interesting life style than the one I have back at my parents house. However this blog is not a dedication to Southampton it is actually the opposite, as living in a city has its down sides, one of which is the huge problem with rodents. I hate, hate rodents. I have an not so uncommon phobia of the little buggers, which is why it freaks me out to have to be sharing my house with the pests. For the last year it has been a constant battle with the useless landlord and estate agency to deal with this issue, and needless to say the issue is far from resolved. After finding a huge dead beast in the middle of my kitchen floor on return from a visit to my beloved little town, I decided enough was enough, and called the pest control myself. At a lovely little cost of £50 , money which could of brought me a nice pair of shoes, I felt I could no longer face my fear every time i wanna go in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. So mouse man came round put some poison down and informed me that he would be back the following week for a re-visit. I was very happy with this and saw him out the door relieved that the problem will be fixed. Anyway a week later mouse man returned, and informed me that its not just mice that we have it is in fact rats, which is what I had told my landlord and he just laughed in my face and reassured me that it was only mice. Which is crazy cause mice are still gross, but rats! Rats are on a whole other level of gross. Anyway mouse man asked if there was a man in the house, I was a bit taken aback by this question, seeing my confusion he said "No, no not anything like that, wasn't trying anything, just i'm going to put a trap down and it needs to be checked everyday, so." I felt it was a tad bit insulting that he thought that just because I am female I would be incapable of disposing of the little bread stealing creature, which of cause is exactly the case but he did not know this. Anyway he put some bait down and a trap and will be back next week. So he went off I was happy that maybe just maybe I will be free of this problem, however later that day a friend of mine was over and I heard a snap. Yes I thought the trap has worked. So I sent my friend into the kitchen to investigate, and what he opened the kitchen door to was terrifying! A rat was indeed in the trap, not dead though,no the huge disgusting waste of space was running round my kitchen with the trap on its head. Obviously this was a dilemma, do we let it eventually die or do we do something about it. By we I obviously mean my friend, like hell I was going into that kitchen. So I found a box and a broom and ushered my poor friend into the kitchen, assuring him i was right there holding the door open. When trying to sweep the rat into the box , the trap snapped open and off the pest ran. Damn he got away. Resetting the trap and hoping that it worked the next time was all I could do. After a few drinks we returned to the house later that night to find that the trap has disappeared, literally no where to be seen. Hopefully it got stuck on his head again and he ran back through the hole where he came from got stuck and this acted as a warning to the other rodents to back off from the kitchen. Although i'm not so sure, so to be safe i'm staying out the kitchen until a male can investigate and make sure the coast is clear for me. Maybe mouse man was right, somethings are men's work and should be left for them to deal with. Kylie xxx

Tighten the Purse Strings

The gut wrenching feeling you get when you decide to sort out your finances, you just know something bad is waiting for you on your online banking. As you type in your details and hit the 'view statement' button, a sense of dread fills over you. I personally cross my fingers and close my eyes when doing so in some desperate attempt to some how not be faced with what is ultimately a total financial disaster. For once, just once I would like Barclays to inform me that I am in fact not a poor arse student, with a shopping addiction and a few too many nights out under my belt. I would love it to display the spending of a money conscious, wealthy young person with the amenities to go on a major shopping spree if she so desires. However I know this is never going to happen. I think I should be banned from town as the temptation to shop is to over powering for me. Although I would like to think that it is down to my friends bad influence that has me spending, but the truth is I know deep down that we both encourage each other with our addictions. I do not however wish to develop an eating disorder due to my lack of funds to spend on food, so I have devised a very clever plan, do the food shop before all my bursary money goes on new clothes. I will have to come to terms with the fact I will be a broke arse student for another year, choosing to ignore my dads words of 'Please not more shoes Kylie' I shall continue to close my eyes and cross my fingers on the rare occasion that I check my balance, and maybe one day I won't be depressed with amount that I am shown. If anyone knows a good shopaholics anonymous group I could join that also may be a solution.

80's baby..

Nov 1989, the year the Berlin wall comes down,Nintendo released its popular handheld video game player the 'Game Boy', The Simpsons premier and of course the year that I came into the world. Yes i am technically a child of the 80's well i like to think so anyway.

I grew up however in the 90's where the fashion was as unmemorable and quite frankly as dull as dish water and the music industry was pumping out artificial generic pop music. Artificially put together cleverly marketed boy and girl 'bands'(using that word loosely as I'm sure none of the spice girls truly possess an amazing vocal talent). Even though as a child I did have a slight obsession with Boyzone, which included pj's, bedspreads, stationary and various other memorabilia.

The thing that confuses me is what was the transitional point for music, fashion and the culture in general. How did we go from the mix match subcultures in the 80's to well the 90's?

I first started considering this one evening when discussing music with a housemate, he concluded from this discussion I should of grown up in the 80's and that I'm from the wrong decade. My response to him was "Who wouldn't want to have grown up in the 80's?" I grew up listening to my parents music(as they were teens in the 80's)and hearing stories of concerts and fashions. I grew up listening to my parents play early Madonna, Blondie, UB40 and Micheal Jackson. I still listened to Steps, S-club 7 and A1 (remember them?) of course I did, however now I find myself listening to 80's music again. I'll spend hours you-tubing Blondie, The smiths and The cure. They still hold so much relevance in today's youth culture, there is a sudden trend for all things 80's. And I for one am glad, and very proud to call myself an 80's baby.