You're about to send this email without a subject line.

Something I particularly enjoy is naming emails. I probably enjoy thinking of a subject header more than I should. I think a good header should comprise of mystery (wetting the recipients appetite) yet still somehow relate to the content of the email that you have slaved over.

So below are the some of the fruits of my previous labours, from real emails, that I have lovingly sent.

  1.  A baby's bottom.
  2.  Step aside Lady Gaga, we have a new winner of weird entrances.
  3.  Call me Judy.
  4.  Ball o' Net.
  5.  Cabbages and raincoats.
  6.  Too much too soon, and who knew?!
  7.  That poor moose.
  8.  "Your feet smell like death." "That's because they are bleeding to it."
  9.  Mountain dweller calling.
10.  A PLAGUE ON YOUR HOUSES!
11.  Like one of your French girls.
12.  This is Roy.
13.  Chlochlo you just cray cray for Jojo.
14.  Snot and secrets.
15.  At last, an open window!!
16.  Thee, thy, thou.
17.  What a fine figure you have.
18.  Country of bread.
19.  Lions, Alps and Rabot.
20.  You are a BEAR.

We hope you have enjoyed this episode of: 'The names of Hannaa's old emails.' Please stay tuned for more thrilling content.

"I'll have that, with a side of rust please."

I have just googled:

What will happen if I eat rust?

Look at what my life has become.

Did Someone Say Buffet?

Being an art student, I collect strange things. My current project involves insects, so I have some dead moths on my floor to draw later. So there I am, innocently colouring in my drawing of a mountain that was spread out on my floor. (As it is rather large.) Just minding my own business. 

And then I notice something. 

I turn to look at my collection of dead creatures (as all monsters do) and I notice there is a new one. A big one. An alive one. A massive spider. The one type of insect I can't really deal with. 

Clearly he thought he had found some new friends. 

Or a delicious buffet.

Figs and Laguna

Eating figs and watching Laguna Beach is not the answer.

A Year in a Day

Yesterday I came to a very sad and scary realisation. For some unknown reason, I've been having a taste for watching The Hills. As a result, (and partly due to my obsessive personality) I have managed a terrible feat. I have watched a year of someone's life, in a day of my own. That is a worrying thing.

Mission Possible

• Mission: To embarrass self on train.

• Status: Successful.

• How: Curly-haired girl eats sandwich, with half the filling falling out in her hair, on herself and most importantly, on the woman she is sitting next to, who politely ignores what just transpired. Worst thing? My mouth was too full to say sorry, and too much time had passed for me to acknowledge what had happened.

• Result: Awkward.

Next please!

So, the reason of this absence that has been as very long time.. has been because this blog (or rather me) didn't know what it was trying to be. And I've realised it doesn't have to be anything in particular other than me. (Or rather a very very good friend, one of the best some might say, pushed me, or rather toppled me off that HUGE cliff I was looking over, into this vast sea. It may be a bit choppy, but they are waters that I can learn to tread.)  So hello to random musings and anecdotal stories. The first beginning with bags of salt.

Being an art student, you tend to buy odd things that seem to other people who don't understand that it is of course for a clearly normal please-don't-call-the-police reason, a little strange. Hence weird looks. That I have clearly never received... To the point. This being my situation, explains why in my hand I had three precious items that I wanted, scratch that, NEEDED to buy: 

1) A very large bag of table salt. 

2) Another very large bag of table salt. 

3) A four packet of hot cross buns. 

(Clearly I needed something to eat all that salt with! Or at least that's what the cashier must have thought as I placed my items on the conveyor belt.) Needless to say, as she beeped my items and tentatively asked for the amount that's what she thought. 

But at least it wasn't as bad as that time that I asked my hairdresser for the hair on the floor. But that's a story for another time.