Hello, bitches. Guess what. I’ve given up on healthy eating for the 27th time? That’s not what I was going for, but you’d be right anyway. What I was going for, was the fact that, yet again, I have no idea what to write my next blog about. If I make it to #30, is that enough to quit and slap onto my CV? Maybe, but the truth is, I’ve come to quite enjoy chatting shit to the random 45 people (on average) that read these monstrosities.
So, in true What’s for dinner Gina? fashion, I’m just gonna write about not knowing what to write about, and if I ramble for long enough, I’ll reach the end.
What do you do when you don’t know what new series to start on Netflix? When you don’t know whether to wear your comfy Lion King panties, or something a bit more raunchy? When you don’t know whether to say ‘love you’ or ‘fuck you’ to someone?
If you’re anything like me, you’ll either, yeet, yolo, wing or fuck it. Like this blog, I winged it. I’m still winging it. Like yesterday, I said ‘fuck it’ and whacked the send button on an email to my supervisor, without being entirely sure whether the attached file was the formal one, or the rated 18 content one where I’d added in unnecessary evaluations like, ‘Ortony’s (1997) vividness hypothesis is so full of shit that you can almost smell it’. In case you can’t tell, I got slightly bored while writing a literature review on metaphors, but I would highly recommend expressing your academic frustrations in this way – it really helps. Just delete those parts before submission, unless you really are serious about dropping out of uni (a regular consideration of mine now).
Yeeting, yoloing, winging or just fucking it is a great method when you don’t know what the fuck to do. Risky, but great. Making an impulsive decision can sometimes help you to realise what you actually want. For example, if I can’t decide between Pizza Express or Las Iguanas, I might impulsively just decide on Las Iguanas. And then, whilst making my way to the Latin American restaurant, I’ll start thinking about all the pizza I now can’t eat. I’ll moan to my boyfriend that I won’t be eating Pizza Express’ Vegan Giahdinera Pizza (that’s absolutely not the correct spelling but it’s close enough). Walking up to the entrance of the restaurant, I’ll come to the realisation that this whole time, I wanted dough balls. Of course I wanted fucking dough balls. And with that, the correct decision is finally made – Pizza Express. No hangry Gina in the area.
Obviously, winging it can also just get you into some deep shit. If you’ve got an interview with a big corporate firm tomorrow, I’d advise against walking in there as if you’re Lizzo, acting like you own the place. Because, hun, you really don’t own the place when you’re standing in the same building as the CEO of T Mobile or some shit. Here are some further examples of when you probably shouldn’t wing it:
- Running your first marathon (diahrrea!!)
- Spending £183 in one online-shopping sitting (how u gonna pay rent then?)
- Attempting to cook a romantic meal for a partner (you’re not Jamie Oliver)
- Setting up a trampoline, safely (fuck)
My preferred activities to yolo it are the following…
- Socialising in general
- Learning how to use a washing machine
- Shotting vodka
- Bleaching and dying my hair pink
- How the fuck to do reverse cowgirl
- Adopting a gerbil on the spot
- Sending a risky text to my mum
So, in conclusion, if you’re bored out your mind in lock down, and you don’t know what to do, my advice is, take a risk! Ask your crush on a date (when we’re allowed out), dye your hair, chop your hair, confess your feelings to someone you really shouldn’t, steal your mum’s last Weight Watchers rocky road bar (yep I did that), send your ex a risky text, leak your own nudes, go mad…