First Fings First

May 21, 2014 11:28am Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 58 Comments

Taking part in the social ‘Firsts’ blog post – #firsttotalsocial


First birthday:  Whaaaa?  I haven’t got a bloody clue. I can’t remember yesterday never mind 12 years ago.  Tch!   If I was to take a wild guess then I would think that my mother probably tried to sell me cos she’d had a year and enough already and quite fancied the frock in the John Lewis window.  The woman drank a bottle of gin on the beaches of St. Ives when she found out she was pregnant with me.  Honestly, you just can’t trust teenagers.  Nor parents.  I came into this world pissed and intend to leave the same way.  It’s why I can’t remember anything.

First memory:  Again…Actually, I remember sitting in the back seat of the car about aged 3 wearing wooly tights.  I looked down and there was a spider on my leg that was caught in the fibres and trying to get off.  I screamed my head off and got smacked on the arse for making such a drama.  Never liked spiders since.  Nor parents.
First emotional tears:  I think I was about 5 and I’d woken up early at the weekend when everyone was still sleeping.  I decided that I would help my mummy and clean out my goldfish as it was looking a bit dirty and I didn’t like it.  I’d seen her do it before so I decided to have a go.  I caught my goldfish and put him in a nearby empty bottle.  I then set about cleaning the bowl, adding fresh water, fish fodder etc,  and when I went to put him back he was dead.  He was dead because I had left him in an empty bottle.  It was then that my true genius was realised.  I was hysterical at having killed my pet and more hysterical when my mum flushed him down the toilet.
First movie that made me cry:  Probably Bambi.  Disney is an evil bastard. 
First book series ever read:  The Hungry Caterpillar – The Hungry Caterpillar and Friends – The Hungry Caterpillar Ate His Friends- The Hungry Caterpillar Tried To Metamorphosise But Was Too Fat – The Hungry Caterpillar Died.  Followed by The Adventures of Captain Underpants and then a selection of Stephen King horror which was tepid next to The Hungry Caterpillar.
First music I ever bought:  Tough one.  At school I dated a lad that was so into his music he bought 3 of everything so I got a free copy of whatever was out.  After school I dated a big nightclub DJ so again I got all my music for free and my best friend worked at a music store so it was probably when iTunes was invented that I actually parted with cash.
First Celebrity Poster:  That was Marilyn Monroe.   My best friend nicked all my pictures of my favourite band members cos I used to make them into swag collages.
First Favourite TV show: I dont know…probably Danger Mouse.
First Kiss:  That was Peter H.  I was 14 and I’d fancied him for ages, like 3 days.  He had olive skin and dark floppy hair and played football and was really popular.  Anyway,  One day, my friend and I were walking down the school corridor and he and his mates were sauntering up from the other end in that ‘I’m so full of testosterone’ way that teenage boys do. Obviously, I looked at him and he was looking back, all confident and full of himself.  My friend jabbed me in the ribs and I squeezed her arm.  As I went to pass him by in that ‘I’m so not bovvered’ way that teenage girls do, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the lockers.  
“Wanna go out wiv me?”  he said.  
“K then,“ I shrugged.
“Wot you got last period?” 
“Chemistry,” I replied, nonchalantly. 
“Meet me outside science block after.”  And off he sauntered to his gangly posse.
My friend and I were all, “OMG…UGH…CAN I BORROW YOUR STRAWBERRY LIPGLOSS?” And giggly and so stupid thereafter that we were late for our chemistry lesson.  Now under normal circumstances, my teacher, Dr.Fagg, didn’t care because 9 times out of 10 he threw me out of chemistry for messing about with the Bunsen burners or trying to invent new chemicals.  THIS TIME he said he was going to give me a detention for being late.  Really?  When I had to meet my new boyfriend at the end?  I had to sweet talk like hell to get out of that and this was when I first learnt how to manipulate adults.   I got let off the hook and went to meet Peter H.  We walked up the twitchell out of school and then he suddenly stopped, took hold of me and kissed me for ages. That was also the first time I learned that things happen in boys trousers when they hold you close and snog you.  
First Job:  What’s a job?  I’ve had more of these than I’ve had vodka and cokes. My first job was aged 15 when I worked on a Saturday in a hair salon and on a Sunday in a newsagent.  I also delivered free papers at night with my friend after school.  Got so pissed off with doing that that we stole a supermarket trolley, filled it with all our months worth of newspapers and dumped them in what we thought was a disused builders yard.  Turned out it wasn’t.  The yard rang the paper company, as did the people who hadn’t got their FREE paper, the paper rang my mum and I got grounded for a disproportionate amount of time and never kissed Peter. H again. 
First Travel: I was a young girl about aged 7.  My parents and I went to Ibiza.  They shut me in my very own room and left me there whilst they disappeared to theirs and said they’d be back in a few hours for dinner. The hotel had left a free bottle of pop on my dressing table.  “Oh, how lovely,” I thought. I opened it and drank it as I got ready for dinner in my long, yellow maxi dress.  My parents came to collect me for dinner and I was dancing in my bedroom.  
“Oh fuck, she’s drank the champagne!”my father shouted.  They took me down to dinner where I promptly fell face first into it and then off my chair.  I’ve never looked back since.  Ibiza and alcohol – it’s when I first learnt to rave. 
First blog post:  I only started a blog because myself and my art teacher decided to take up Burlesque dancing and thought it would be funny to write about it.  Hence the name Julietta Jellybobble which I invented as my stage name. This will be easy, I thought for I am a pro Latin American dancer with gold medals and all.  I will be able to dress up like a whore without reprimand and learn to dance in giant champagne glasses.  I will be like a 1950’s, posh harlot.  Turns out it was way harder than thought and dancing in 5-inch heels and basques was verging on torturous.  However, I learnt to seductively take off long gloves with my teeth, remove stockings whilst balancing on a tiny chair and not ladder them and squish my boobs into bodices that were so tight that I nearly suffocated on my own cleavage.  The novelty wore off but the blog continued as an everyday diary.  I never thought for one minute that random strangers from around the world would read it and follow me on my escapades. 


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Interesting. Correct me if I’m wrong but this seems to me to be a girl-centric exercise. Generally, men have no answer for “first emotional tears” or “first movie that made me cry.” Ditto “first celeb poster” and “first kiss.” (Of course, we’ve all had a first kiss but it’s not anything to dwell on.) It’s like those BlogHer conferences where they, clearly, don’t want any men around. Am I being a sexist pig? Again?

Hmmm.. I suppose but then if you look at the things that i’ve actually cried at then it’s an animal or a cartoon! I’ve never been invited to a BlogHer conference so you’re not alone exile. I’d probably hate it anyway.

Nobody is invited to BlogHer. You pay your money and go. Do you have money? You’re invited.

Well sod that then.

God, I feel so upset about that poor goldfish, the first fish you accidentally murdered. I was slightly cheered up by the Peter Hardon anecdote – very strange that he didn’t try to kiss you again.

It still upsets me, Mr. Gorilla Bananas. I can’t ever have another goldfish again. Or Snog Peter H. Some things are best left in the past.

So, where’s the photo of you dancing in a champagne glass? 🙂
Very entertaining post – thanks for the read.

Sold it on eBay for £5.99. I never got out the champagne glass and am still living there. Like a goldfish….karma.
Thanks Debi 🙂

This is very vanilla. Naturally, I want more, for example: (1) The first time you can recall feeling in danger; (2) The first miracle – doesn’t have to be a religiously recognized one – you felt in your life; (3) A time that you felt inordinately lucky – and the other side of the coin when you felt unlucky; (4) a brush with karma – cause and effect, etc.

Ha ha! Hmmm…..Number 1 is a difficult question to answer as I have felt in danger on numerous occasions but they were relevant to my stage of life. I have a fairly recent one, I might turn it into a story 🙂
2: I burst a tyre on the M1 and span round in the middle of the motorway. I should have died but didn’t. I think that’s a miracle.
3: I suppose the above is lucky but…hmmm…I’m still here, I guess that is lucky.
Unlucky – I’ve been through some really hard times, loss of business, from riches to rags overnight, loads of people dying, messed up relationships and all at the same time. It was like everything was being thrown at me and my friends were waiting for me to have a nervous breakdown but I just walked through the shit. It made me realise how strong I was even though it scarred me for life.
A brush with karma? Karma hates me 🙂

Karma ran over your dogma?

Ha! Yeah, something like that! She certainly reacts badly to my dogma!

Now, that was an interesting read!
Your picture collage is interesting too and raises a couple of questions. Like:
“First time I dressed as MM”. First time? Is this something you do on a regular basis, then?
“First time I got paid for posing”. Plenty there that we all want to hear about, I’m sure!

Well I’m glad you enjoyed it Masher 🙂
I often dress up as MM, it causes a ruckus in my local Sainsburys when I swan down the bread aisle going “Boo boo be doo”

—‘sup, birds.
—wanna go steady?
—sure, whatevs, am i bovvered?
—am i bovvered though? look at my face, am i bovvered?
—i’m the quarterback.
—yes, you are the quarter pounder with cheese, am i bovvered tho?

—-It’s not about the quarterpounder tho, is it, is it tho?
— It’s not about the meat tho, it’s the cheese. It’s the topping innit tho.
—It’s not the meat that matters, it’s the matter that matters tho.
— But I’m the quaterback..
—Am I bovverred? Look at my face..bovvered? Does this face look bovvered to you?

Listen to you two, what are you like?!


Oh my goodness! That was awesome. I admit, the first kiss was my favorite part. Peter H’s attitude, all the girls responses… Oh my. Did I mention I’m forever stuck in that time period of my life? I think it’s too adorable.

Thank you Crystalicious. 🙂 I permanently live like a teenager in my head.

*high five*

Yo Sister 🙂

FIRST of all, I’m glad you joined in!

Second, your answers are so funny! Especially the first kiss and the first time you drank alcohol. Soda pop. Ha! But my condolences to you for killing your own fish.

Im glad you’re glad cos it makes me glad and I’m feeling glad all over.

I was never able to find the same joy in dandelion and burdock thereafter. My poor fish. One of my favourite jokes is about a fish but how can I ever laugh about it again?

What do you call a fish with no eyes?

Thanks Dee 🙂

Hahaha I encountered that joke on a HIMYM episode! It is quite funny!

Wow Julietta, this is by far your best post, ever. I LOVED getting a glimpse into your life… I find it all so fascinating 🙂 And damn you look mighty fine as a poser 😉

Azra!…. as long as you remain my friend despite my poor judgement on things! 🙂

Thank you goddess x

You gorgeous little fox, you! Hear hear! says I regarding the first birthday sentiments on trust and leaving pissed and remembering, remembering what? For me, remembering the strangest selection of things, those that impacted the farthest reaches of my psyche. Like wooly tights and spiders. And the goldfish Incident, which could singe the walls of a soul.
When I read the Stephen King-to-The Hungry Caterpillar comparison, one of those single, involuntary laughs came out, and it was all so good, this post: Mr. Testosterone, the not-so-smooth newspaper move, swigging all the “pop”… Growing up is so ragged, you know? Everyone’s evolving is different, yet the same: all the jigs and jags that come with trying to figure life out armed with bad information and one’s own left field assumptions… Well, you do a mean Marilyn I’ll tell you that!
Miss A

You equally gorgeous fox, you. I’ve grown up so ragged that I never really grew up. I lost my soul to the dark side and it metamorphosed into a snark sense of humour, wily ways with an essence of sweet despair. A veritable masterpiece of complicated art. As we all, so uniquely are…
Thank you, as always, Miss A. 🙂

Yeah, snark happens… Wish it had happened to me, but I grew up ragged in a different way… Still ended up with the sweet despair, though…which fuels a great bit of writing like no other fuel can do…which is cool…

It most certainly does, Miss A 🙂

Real life escapades are always more fun to read.

yeah…more gritty and real 🙂

Finding this one a little late…but better late than never eh. 🙂

Enjoyed reading your answers. I’d do this one myself but find that I can’t be bovvered. Could be persuaded to be bovvered by snogging a cute boy though. Your first brush with alcohol…really funny. Had mine when I was about three. My dad and uncle were watching sports and had their beers on the floor beside their chairs. My cousin and I (naughty little buggers that we were) crawled up behind their chairs and chugged down the rest of what they had left. Needless to say we managed to get ripped and our mothers, for some reason, were not amused. He and I were bouncing off the walls for a while…and even thought that we could take running leaps from the stairs and fly like birds. Yeah, I know…groan.

Love your photo collage…what a knockout you are! xx

Hello beautiful Tracy 🙂 I can’t be bovvered either. Nine times out of ten I seriously can’t be bovvered.
Oh you sound like you had a similar childhood to mine! Proper kids! Makes for a sweet and good kicking into the reality of adulthood, doesn’t it.

Tracy, I still think I can fly and have often landed at the bottom of the stairs with a trainer in my gob.

Thank you, angel x

You fly more than you are aware. At least that’s what we all see.

What a lovely thing to say, Larry. Thank you.

You came into this world pissed and intend to leave the same way…. It’s the only way!
My Momma never smacked on the arse for fear I would one day love it.
What you never blamed your Mom for buying you a fish that needed water?
Disney is an evil bastard, alright. I’m still scared of that witch in Snow White… (no joke)
You drank the champagne… good.
You nearly suffocated on your own cleavage? I’m so jealous. That said, I love your pics, especially the one in the bottom right corner. I bet you were thinking WTF….

Sorry for my tardiness my Blue friend, been super busy. My clock has run out of hours!

Yes, he really was called Dr. Fagg.
I learnt to appreciate champagne early in life. I had a fine palate early 🙂
I think that was when I first learnt to think WTF? and have thought it to pretty much everything ever since!

Busy is my middle name. I’ve been snowed under ever since I’ve been back in the swim of things, so I know what you mean.

Dr. Fagg… really… Well, my name is Randy so who am I to even dare to laugh….

Love your pics!


This is FANTASTIC!!!!

Especially this part…

Disney is an evil bastard.

Yes he was!!! I cried when the wild hogs killed ‘Ol’ Yeller’…

The BASTARDS!!!!!!!

I also liked the part about inventing new chemicals in Chemistry… and it appeared you created Chemistry with that young fellow… ;o)

Just sayin’…


Disney was a mean bastard and still is as he continues to make little people cry. And big people. Bastard.
I created a dangerous smoky haze once and the class had to be evacuated. Got a right telling off but I just cried and they let me off. ;P
And the other chemistry….well….that’s the best kind! Just sayin’ Shoes 🙂

Not to mention Bambi’s father! I still remember my own tears running down my little blue cheeks.

I KNOW! Ugh….fairytale people eh? Can’t bloody trust ’em.

But… but…. I’m a collector of fairy tales…. What does that say about me?????

It says you are a warm hearted, fanciful, imaginative soul, as I already knew 🙂 it’s not the collectors but the writers ;P

Just had another look at your pics again. Doesn’t time fly, Jules? Why can’t it just walk or crawl…

I know grumpy, it ticks past every second. Sigh….;)

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Why don’t they invent an app that allows us to control time? I mean… how hard can it be?

ROTFL, Jules ~ you are a motherflippin’ RIOT! I can’t decide which bit’s funnier: the comparison of Hungry Caterpillar with Stephen Kings stuff, “1950’s posh harlot,” or “I nearly suffocated on my own cleavage.” You got a spectacular turn of phrase, gurl. 🙂

Ha! Thanks Mina you swag babe and appreciate the tweet, it makes me feel loved. That’s not a feeling I’m used to unless drunk on champagne and suffocating on my cleavage.

Haha…fun firsts!! Got to know u a lil better…and the reason behind your blog name! 🙂

Yeah but don’t judge me on that Aditi, I’m proper nice now with morals and everything. I also donate heavily to the goldfish society. 🙂

Burlesque for real? Funny my parents always went to St Ives too. I still have nightmares about being force fed Cornish pasties that tasted of grit.

Yes for real. Sometimes I have these things called ideas that are utterly stupid. It happens a lot. There’s nowt wrong with gritty pasties, tis what makes British kids hardcore. 🙂

Julesy…I gotta know….are you really a “pro Latin American dancer with gold medals and all.” ??
We have so much in common !
I also threw away stacks of free papers, killed a goldfish , and discovered at an early age the strange going-ons in my trousers when I snoggled. And you would just die of envy at my Marilyn M. impersonation !
Such a small world !
Love Ya,

Yes, this is also true, PPS. I can put Shakira to shame with my moves.

Well, who’d have thought we had so much in common. You are my lost evil twin. Do you know who your dad was?…

When you say Marilyn M I feel slightly nervous on both counts: either you really are a drag queen or you dress like Marilyn Manson. I don’t know which is worse.

Love ya more!

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