New Year, New Less Branded Me

10341722_10101374850605772_876217071051089577_n.jpg

Oh my blog, my sweet beautiful blog.

If our relationship had a physical form, you would be a well meaning girl and I would be the sexy bad boy who keeps jerking you around. I always SAY I’m going to call, I always SAY I can change, I always SAY I’ll keep a consistent blogging pattern. But what do I do? I let you down. Worst – I let myself down*.

*Okay, maybe not myself, because not writing a blog usually means I’m on Tumblr, obsessing over the Michonne and Rick Grimes ship, and I love shipping. I really do.

But now that’s it’s 2016, I’ve decided to be honest with you blog. No more Mr.Cool-Aloof-Guy. Because the truth is, I our whole relationship started on the wrong foot. I didn’t start you because I’m a word-smithing-genius who needed a creative outlet. I started you because it seemed like a smart career move. Like it was the right thing to do if I wanted to get into digital media/social media/THE media. In short – it seemed very on brand.

Starting you merely to say I’ve started you was wrong, blog. Sure, we had our good times and sometimes I actually wrote something to be genuinely proud of… but often I just wrote what I thought I should write. Often I tried to sound like other bloggers, such as GirlLostintheCity or SuperlativelyRude – who are great, by the way, but they’re not me.

However, blog, I’m here yet again with a declaration of change.

I’m different now. I don’t try to guess at what I should be doing, but instead know what I want to be doing. I have projects. Goals. BIG CREATIVE DREAMS! Things that now inspire me because I find them inspiring, not because I’m trying to jump onto a hashtag on Twitter. You and me, blog, we can do something special. Create a showcase of the real Heather Shaw, without any of this futile imagining of what my brand should be.

Of course, we’ll have our challenges. Some of what appears on here might be a little messy. It could be 1,000 words or 100. It could be a picture, a podcast, or even a dick pic – JOKE! Obviously, a dick pic comes under the picture heading. But it’ll all be a reflection of me. Hopefully a lot of me. Seriously, I’ll update you more.

And who knows… maybe one day, in a future where Boris Johnson rules us with an iron fist, we’ll be able to look at each other and say: “finally, all our web traffic doesn’t come from those man porn, dick pic blogs”.

Let’s dream big, blog. You and me.

How to beat the heat

British weather too hot

So here we are England. We’ve always wished for that Greek sunshine that we love so much on holiday and now its here. Pouring into our homes and offices, melting us like the chocolate digestives that we are. What a fucking treat.

It has been claimed that the ideal heat for a Brit is 21C and that anything other 28C is TOO BLOODY HOT! So you can imagine the sheer panic of our little island as we’ve been forced to endure highs of up to THIRTY FIVE! We’ve been like sweaty ants floundering under God’s magnifying glass.

Just in case we’re forced to endure more of this sweltering hell, I’ve got some top tips to help:

1. Ice Tea

It goes without saying that British people love tea, more than children*. So it makes sense that tea should work in our favour during these tortuous days. America’s have a thing ‘iced tea’, I don’t know how to make this but the concept seems simple enough. For every sip of tea, suck on a cube of ice and repeat until tea is finished.

2. Be Naked

Like all the time. Less clothes, less sweat.

3. Dr. Who-icle

Another thing British people love – Doctor Who**. I don’t know why but our island just can’t get enough but everyone seems to be having a wet dream over Matt Smith’s weird brow. So I propose that we move all screenings of Dr. Who into large freezers. People would be into that, they can pretend they’re in the tardis when the heating breaks in space.

4. Become a Zombie

Seriously, rewatch The Walking Dead. Those guys never seem to be too hot. Or too cold. Maybe the dead have really mastered the whole body temperature thing.

5. Complain

There must be a reason why we like to talk about the weather. Maybe it’s some kind of basic animal instinct that will pay off… somehow. Either that or I’ve been writing this whole post for nothing.

 

 

*I don’t like tea.
** I don’t like Dr.Who. Am I even British?

Grizzly Men on Television that I Can’t Help but Fancy

I haven’t been a very good blogger lately. As a privileged white girl, I have no trouble telling you that my lack of updating isn’t my fault. First of all my university has been all you need to do some work now. And then this internship I signed up for it like you need to do some writing now. And then life in general has been all seriously you’re graduating in four month, you need to get some job prospects now!

All of these I feel are valid reasons as to why I haven’t been writing. But to be honest, the big reason I haven’t been writing is men. Namely grizzy, shouldn’t-be-looking-at-him-like-that, dirty, probably-mid-40s men from TV.

I mean, pretty TV boys like Chad Michael Murray are just SO noughties. It’s 2013 now and we’ve all moved on from the hairless boys from Gilmore Girls. We’re like women now and need some serious man candy for our serious burning loins.

And I’ve often heard that a problem shared is a problem halved, which makes me think that if I share my shameful television man crushes with the internet then that’s even better than halving it because thousands[1] of people will be lifting that monkey off of my back!

Plus I figured I can’t be the only one living with the burden of staring as scarred, wrinkled, older men, who beat other characters to bloody pulps on screen with adoring heart shaped eyes. I know this because I’ve been on tumblr and tumblr-bitches will ship anything with a storyline.

Bennet Drake

For half the year I fawn over Jerome Flynn in Game of Thrones when he’s playing the whore-munching, sell sword Bronn. But more recently I’ve become more accustomed to seeing him in my wet dreams as Sgt. Bennet Drake from Ripper Street. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a Bronn shaped hole in my knickers, but I just feel like Sgt. Bennet Drake has more going for him. For one thing he’s ginger, and I have a soft spot for anyone who can’t be in the sun too long. And secondly he has tattoos, but like, Victorian tattoos which is just so hipster because he had them before they were cool and every 18 year old from the South started getting them on their gap year.

Plus he’s killed people, which in real life is a no no, but in TV crime dramas is a YES YES! It means I can heal his tortured soul with my vagina, tumblr knows what I mean, right shippers?

Theon Greyjoy


Game of Thrones is like my greatest fetish realised – there’s just so many men! But definitely out of all of them, my biggest unmentionable crush has to be Theon Greyjoy. Sure I might go around saying I want to pop Jon Snow’s cherry, but realistically I want a man that knows what he’s doing, and boy has Theon built up quite a resume.

Nice cock Alfie Allen

Sadly as a reader of the ASOIAF I know old Theon hasn’t got the nicest time ahead of him, in fact, I’m not sure his impressive piece will make it to season 5, which is why we have to savour sex fiend Theon Greyjoy now while we still have him. That’s right clutch to your season 1 and 2 boxsets ladies and remember what Theon is now before March 31st comes and makes you more inclined to hold Theon tenderly to your breast in comfort, than swab the decks with his naked body.

Of course you could probably do both.

Daryl Dixon

If there’s one thing myself and the internet can’t say no to, it’s a hillbilly with a heart of gold. Throw in a crossbow and a horde of flesh eating zombies, and it’s practically the porno we’ve all been longing for. I must admit that I’m quite new to The Walking Dead fandom, by the time I heard about it properly most people were telling me not to bother because it was in the ‘forget zombies, we’ve got a farm to argue in’ stage of things. However, one fateful day I took a leap of faith and dived into this zombie-tastic show and didn’t resurface till I had polished off two and half seasons – just in time from the mid-season break to start up again.

I could go on and on about how much I love this show and how it’s inspired me to make a map of the fastest route from my house to the Isle of Skye – I figured in Britain this would be the safest place to wait out the zombies – but above my map making days is my love of Daryl Dixon. Thick southern accent, vest shirts, cheek bones and the ability to kill some animals with his hands… oh how I could go on.

In the show he has a thing with this woman Carol, though they’ve not made it past the flirty-flirty side of things, which makes me think if I were to magically transport into the show he would be sexual frustrated enough to be tempted by my pale, British piece of ass.

Of course then I would also be in a zombie apocalypse so would probably die before he even unslung his crossbow #tragic.

 

Thanks to tumblr for providing these knicker-dropping images. 


[1] Okay maybe not thousands, but at least a baker’s dozen.