Is a Pizza Beret an Inappropriate Choice of Hat For a Summer Wedding?

I’ve been feeling so grown up this week. I feel like a REAL woman. I feel more grown up than the time I had my first period and had to go and tell my swimming teacher loudly that I’d have to sit that week’s lesson out as I was IN THE MIDDLE OF MY MENSTRUAL CYCLE. This week, I received my first wedding invitation. I have friends that are getting married! And it’s my first wedding invitation that’s addressed solely to ME! I’ve never had my name on a wedding invite that isn’t primarily addressed to my parents, which must mean I have friends old enough to legitimately get married – it’s not a shotgun wedding or anything! – which must also mean I’m in that age bracket now where it’s kind of alright for ME to get married. Which feels very strange. It’s pretty doubtful that I’ll ever get married. Actually that’s a lie; I’ll probably end up being one of those spinsters that marries a 19-year-old money-grabbing SOB who runs off with my life savings but I still believe is going to come back from the shops any time soon. So although I’m not one to really plan my dream wedding, I do have a theme in mind. I don’t want to give too much away, but the first minute and a half of this will be very important:

And just FYI, don’t be offended if my invitations say something along the lines of:

“You are cordially invited to my wedding. Your kids can come if they can keep their traps shut on my special day. Actually you know what? Don’t bring them. It’s better that way. Save the date! xxx”

This wedding invitation is also very exciting for two reasons: number one, because I get to pick out a fucking amazing hat, and the bride has agreed (sort of) to let me get a more extravagant hat than her mum. Which I have narrowed down to the following:

Clam Hat:


Homer Simpson-inspired nacho hat – which I know will make me very popular with guests:

nacho hat

And this one. I wouldn’t really have considered it before but it popped up on Google images and this kid really sold it to me. He makes a pizza beret look so cool:


And number two, because it means there’s going to be a HEN PARTY!! I am currently prepping my personalised t-shirt, I’m thinking my moniker can be Dame Slutty McHoeWhore-Prostitute. Catchy, right?

But unfortunately just as I was starting to feel so grown up, I was abruptly brought back down to juvenile cry-baby level again because I DECIDED TO GO TRAVELLING.

That doesn’t really make sense.

What I mean is, my two friends and I have decided to go and travel the woooorld. Which is so exciting, but it has also brought out my crazy neurotic side. I’m like Woody Allen in all his films, but more annoying, if that’s possible. For example, my friend Zoe and I discussed the possibility of doing a sky dive in Australia. I told her that I was totally excited and buzzed to do it – but what I really meant to say was NO FUCKING WAY, because when I got off the phone to her, I Googled this:

“What percentage of parachutes don’t open?”

Probably the worst thing you could ever ask Google if you’re thinking of doing a sky dive. This is genuinely what it said (if you’re planning on doing one soon, I’d just stop reading, because I swear down, this is going to ruin it for you):

“Even the most experienced skydiver may have technical difficulties with his/her equipment. “Skydiving has been my life, and it will probably be my death too. But hopefully not yet, for I have many years of jumps left in me,” said Robin Wilcox, an experienced jumper, four days before his parachute failed.”


Then I spoke to my other friend, Becky – because none of us can work out how to do a three-way phone call yet – and we talked about going scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef. When I finished speaking to her I started Googling really stupid shit like “How to act around sharks” and “What’s in the dark bits of the sea?” Neither gave me the results I was looking for, like Sharks don’t exist anymore or The dark bits of the sea aren’t dangerous at all, and are mostly just made up of treasure chests that you are allowed to take home.

But this is stupid, how am I ever going to travel if I’m scared of everything? So I’ve decided to try this: I’m writing all my fears and phobias on here in hopes that the sheer embarrassment will exorcise them from my subconscious.

Pascale’s Inexhaustible List of Fears That Could Be Considered Irrational but Are Not:



Deep sea diving



The sea in general – or as I like to call it, “Nature’s toilet.”

Wet bread

One Direction fans

The stop button on buses

Girls who readily slut drop to R&B – it’s not really a fear; I just really don’t like it. If they’re doing it near me it makes me feel cheap, and it catches me off guard nearly every time. It’s really alarming when someone’s there one second and not the next.

When really old people fall asleep

All fairground rides – fairground folk do not look like they can put together those rides in a way that can be safe AND fun

Random spots of blood on the pavement

Gum under chairs in a public place

Creepy men with greasy ponytails who wear wolf-and-moon t-shirts and own cars with a really big boot – you just know there’s something weird going on there

Toddlers eating bananas

Buses and Lorries turning corners

Being kissed by old people – They’re so soft! And how long is an appropriate time to wait before vigorously rubbing that garish lipstick mark off your cheek?

Being the only one at a buffet table

Theatre-trained children

My skirt being tucked into my pants


The wheelers from The Wizard of Oz

Anjelica Houston in The Witches

This picture of Richard E Grant:


And finally, after watching Embarassing Bodies for the second time, I’m scared of Dr Pixie:




If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room trying to avoid sharp corners.


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