why what's up hun?? x

I used to be much more tolerant about the people i let infest my news feed. But now i am straight off deleting:

1- anyone who thinks its the height of wit and hilarity to comment ‘gay’ on peoples statuses and pictures.

Yeah… that’s not ok! did the last 50 years not happen to you??

2- anyone who is moronic enough to put up statuses to the effect of ‘Clarkson is a LAD.’

3- Anyone who posts pictures with the camera held at arms length of them and their latest significant other mashing their lips together like greasy walruses. 

4- mindless NOM NOM NOM-ers. 

I’m sure that was funny and original once. for like a second. 

5- People who write weird angry/ threatening statuses to ‘nobody’

like, “literally can’t believe some people… screw you bitch!”

omg. fierce babes. totally get that rage on the page. Just be sure not to mention who you’re talking about, or bother to confront them face to face about it, that way it might get sorted… and then what are you going to fill your fb statuses with??

This is one of the type of ‘wats up hun? x’ statuses that make me want to HURT PEOPLE!

The ultimate in dangling out your emotions on facebook like a juicy dangler, trying to hook someone that actually gives a crap.

anyway, hope this advice helps with how to not be a total loser! 

Merry Christmas!

Amerikeens

i made this present for my friend who is going to spend christmas with his girlfriend’s parents (meeting them for the first time) in California:

“Someone told me you’re going to see Jenny’s family at Christmas? 

i think it was that Dunph lunatic that i’ve seen wandering the corridors of life. I hope you have a nice time! Is it going to be warm there? are you going to be the stereotypical american enjoying christmas in bermuda shorts with a bud and medallions in your chest hair? pretty much sounds like you i have to say.

do Americans wear medallions in their chest hair? 

I’m not sure. I’ve only really got Saturday Night Fever to back up this assumption… but i’ve always thought of that as being pretty representative of american culture as a whole.

You can print this picture out and take it with you as reference to help you fit in.”

That boy is gonna do SWELL.

That's just like... the rules of feminism

So, despite the fact that I predict it will make me obscenely angry / then depressed / then feel incredibly fat and inferior because i don't look like a bratz doll / then angry again, i am planning to watch Friends with Benefits tonight 

(I feel obliged to stipulate that this is NOT an activity in itself, i just plan to put it on while i get on with some wee jobs.) 

I envisage that the end bit where they inevitably ruin everything fall in love and become disgusting saps will besmirch the whole thing, 

but i’ve seen some ace quotes from it, i.e:

and:

"I really have to stop buying into this bullshit Hollywood cliche of true love. Shut up, Katherine Heigl, you stupid, little liar!"

lol.

Anyway anything that allows me to watch Mila Kunis dry humping in fleshies in a film studio for 2 hours 

(unfortunately with some squirrel that used to be in N'sync -i will be covering his face with my thumb throughout any porno parts) 

is fine bah me. 

ah Mila. with her lovely hair and face. *sigh*

anyway, i was wondering, why is it that women in films that Don't Need Men are always characterised as: 

• ball-breaker due to screwed up past who eventually comes to her senses and gets herself a ring on it

•  Careerist with emotionally screwed up past - who finally comes to her senses.... etc.

• 'ugly girls' who 'come to their senses' when they 'get pretty'

• unhinged

I prefer this girl:

in 27 dresses. (yes i have seen it. THE SHAME)

"Hey, do you want to come over to my place before the party? Some of the guys from shipping are coming, and they're bringing tequila and bubble wrap."

"Are you kidding? The only reason to wear this monstrous dress is that so some drunken groomsman can rip it to shreds with his teeth."

Jane: "George appreciates me for who I am! "
Casey: "What good is it being appreciated if no one is naked?"

yes. yes. and yes.

My to-do list for today

i aim low






edit: I failed to do a single ONE of these things. suck it to-do list, you're not the boss of me!

T£CHNOFEAR

Today I have to upgrade my phone.

it has been a worthy foe over the years, 

and i shall surely miss it.

For example the way it used to take messages i was trying to send to someone and just pick someone at random from my phonebook that it felt to be more deserving of the message and send it to them instead,

thankfully (and strangely miraculously consider we are talking my life here) i never got caught out inappropriately sexting (LOL i don't really do that) or bitching and whining about someone and how their face and life makes me want to hurt them (Lol i TOTALLY do that).

So bon courage phone, alas we hardly knew ye!

The BIG failure and horror about this whole situation is the fact that I have to get a new phone, and when I try to buy phones it usually goes something like this:

Me: 'uh. i want a phone that... um, you can take pictures?'

Orange Saleskid (we shall call them Agent Orange): 'yeah, they all do that these days.'

Me: 'huh. well, i want one where I can set my own music as like, the ringtone and alarm and stuff.'

Agent Orange: *slowly cottoning on that they are dealing with a moron* 'yes. ALL phones do that.'

Me: *beginning to sweat and panic due to social awkwardness of having to engage with someone for this long* umm... *scans phones attached to desk with string wildly and bolts towards nearest one*

'This one? is this one any good??'

Agent Orange: 'I'll power it up so you can have a play'

Why do they say that?? 

'power it up' like its some sort of flux capacitor...

'have a play' like we're just two normal people having an apparently casual discussion about buying phones.

What is the meaning of all this madness??

by now Agent Orange has returned with the phone, so i can go through the rigmarole of turning it on and jabbing wildly at buttons, 

making reassuring noises like, 'uh huh' 'ahh, so this is this...' and 'but how do i...? ah yes. yes, i see' 

to try to disguise the fact that i have no idea whats going on, and regardless of this fact will never read the manual and opt instead to treat my phone with a mixture of fear and contempt until I am due for my next upgrade which I assume will solve all of life's problems. 

So this is where i head off to this afternoon. 

I am wearing extra eyeliner 

in an attempt to look feminine, so that if the Agent Orange is a man / chauvinist pig he will assume that my tiny woman's brain cannot possibly cope with the complexities of selecting a phone and just point at one so i can snatch it up and run off into the distance, laughing and playing polyphonic ringtones into the still dusk air. 

Things I need to stop doing

- not getting dressed until well after mid day

- using not leaving the house as an excuse for no makeup

- using no makeup as an excuse for not leaving the house

- being in love with people that are dead. (unhelpful in terms of internet and physical stalking. i do however harbour plans to stalk Gram Parsons to room 1 at the Joshua Tree Inn where he died. Even in death he cannot escape my creepy love!)

 

- giving people unimpressed death-stares when they frustrate and annoy me (so this is basically everyone, all of the time), in case the strain gives me contributes to ever growing legion of premature wrinkles

- listening to 5 O’clock by T-Pain and Lily Allen, when it (in between busting sick moves) makes me so very very angry and disgusted 

- listening to it so loudly that people who are not in room can almost definitely hear well enough to judge me in a manner that i entirely deserve

- being of the opinion that any skirt that skims lower than the southern point of the vagina is too long and thus ‘frumpy’

- forgetting to perv at ugly naked guy in the house window opposite

- assuming that when I throw up from hungoverness people want details on exactly what was expelled from my body, complete with positioning on ‘my favourite and least favourite pukes of all time’ scale

- drinking wine out of cardboard cartons which are so shamefully cheap i actually feel possessed to leave the house and walk to a nearby park to dispose of the evidence in a public bin, to avoid the judgement of just putting it in the recycling

(i’m not actually going to do this. it all sounds like totally too much hard work. i’ll probably just scribble over the carton with a sharpie until the shameful details are mostly obscured. is sharpie ink recyclable?)

Dan PetRescue

i just watched a minute long video of various cats meowing.

pretty much like this

Sometimes i worry about myself.

But then i just use the noise of dem kittehz to block out those interfering voices 

oh yeah-

as part of holding up my end of a deal made at the weekend....

this is my stoopid friend Jerry:

he is pictured with some cheese in this picture, as if that somehow makes him a real person.

Yeah. Right.

anyway, UGH he is totally the worst, and nobody should follow him on his blog: Woolley On Wheels

I am telling you this as a friend because I once fell for his trap, and became a follower of his blog, and let me tell you........ IT WAS THE WORST DECISION I EVER MADE!! i cannot even begin to talk about it as it is still too recent and painful.

but Jerry if you read this........ I hope you take a long hard look in the mirror young man!!

A swellegant weekend.

Well, this weekend i have surely outdone myself in disgusting untempered consumption of all that is braincell-bursting and cellulite-beckoning.

I would propose some kind of detox but if i was such a crushing bore as that i would probably just kill myself now and have done with it.

On Friday my freen D from home and Charlie came up to my uni house, we had a party in which i got entirely spangled on gin and monster energy, interspersed with bursts of tequila slammers with cinnamon and orange slices.

We watched Pink Floyd live in Pompei on a big projector screen in a room full of vile smog, and i ended up sitting like a spiral eyed deranged audience member in the basement at the feet of boys playing guitars and drums.

Saturday i woke up and vomited,

i must have still been drunk because i remember standing in the kitchen swigging juice from the carton and telling my housemates ‘i just puked pure coke. It was quite nice actually, sweet. Kind of like drinking coke but in reverse.’

They seemed disturbed by this particular piece of honesty, for some crazy reason…

After this my other friend arrived and we went to the German Christcringle market! which as it turns out, is an entirely dangerous place to drag a hangover to.

Drinking wheat beer and devouring various goods, all of which have been deep fried to within an inch of their life, will never Not be a good hangover cure.

Later was the Rum Diary and a homemade curry before crawling into bed, this time in actual pajamas (success!) and with makeup removed (double success, boom chica wah wah).

Today belonged to breakfast tequila, a fry up with cumin potatoes, a Caribbean Christmas fair, mars bar and toblerone flavoured fudge, ale and pies at the Hop, and my friends kidnapping me onto the train back home with them

(they had a spare free ticket due to their (read: Charlie’s) own stupidity which i am taking off their hands).

So i will now be home til Wednesday. I took exactly 13 minutes to confirm this plan and throw uncoordinated items into a bag.

Phone charger and makeup remover are among the things i have already noticed i’ve forgotten.

Stuffing my face with salt and vinny peanuts, dark rum, hurtling towards London and hoping for the best!

WHY do I keep listening to T-Pain and Lily Allen?

singing an awful awful song

which seems to be about booty calls.

and disrespECful menz who don’t treat their womens right. 

in fact ‘singing’ is a bit of a GEN word considering its just T-pain repeatedly vomiting into an autotune machine. 

And being driven round in a rickshaw (??? why?)

and staring at prozzers (no offence sex-workers of the world)

plus T-pain has a see-through phone.

And is called fricking ‘T-PAIN’ !

and i am watching this because………………..?

ah yes. 

i remember. 

How to stick at an article when its SO unmanageably dull that your eyes keep sliding off the page...

This is like: my life. for all of times, at the moment. 


So here are my top tips to get you through this difficult time! It kind of only really applies if you're a politics (or maybe fashion) student... but nevertheless, heed these words of wisdom, 
and when you graduate with honours because you're so brill and go on to a life of success, be sure to please give me a job in your evil empire (i.e. food taster to check for poison or chair warmer plz). Chars!


1- gather all that you will need, and arrange it some kind of abstract design (to later kick and smash down when insanity sets in) around your desk. 
Close all your windows and nail up your door, we're doing this Rents' cold turkey-style

(Suppositories optional)

Be sure to put the nails on the wrong bit of the door so it will still open, otherwise the toilet situation might get tricky, and your children will forever have to stare up into the face of a man who once crapped into a takeaway bag. 

2- Drink coffee. Lots of coffee. Coffee until you can't remember who you are. 

As a test stare into a mirror, if you can cope with this without attempting to headbutt yourself = MORE. 

coffee is like liquid payattention.

3- Be horrifically rude, personal, bigoted and creepy towards absolutely everyone on your facebook, 

so that everybody deletes and blocks you

 and you are unable to waste hours of your life stalking people you completely hate and would run away from if you saw them in the street, in case they tried to be 'actual friends'   

4- develop deep admiration for a dubious career / personal role  model. 

Print off their picture and stick it somewhere prominent on your desk.

Blank out all dubious aspects of their personality and opt instead for creepily fixated love.

Stare at the picture (try not to get lost in their beautiful dead evil soulless Scottish eyes), think about how deliciously ruthless they are and remind yourself that they would not be sitting here questioning themselves, they

would be kicking that article's pages up and down the corridoors of power, laughing manically all the while.

With this deeply moving inspirado under your belt- back to the grindstone!

5- THIS.

Happy studies Malchickiwicks!

Offering your womb to people is totally not weird.

Binge drinking failed lesbian intellectual WLTM someone with similar interests and VGSOH for LOLZ

"intelligent individuals are more likely to engage in evolutionarily novel behavior. Since the consumption of modern alcoholic beverages - including binge drinking and getting drunk - is evolutionarily novel, the Hypothesis would predict that more intelligent individuals are more likely to engage in it, and the empirical data from the UK and the US confirm it." ... yeah. that'll be that then!

this picture was taken in a gay club (where i ditched our Society Ball to go hang out #obvs.) I failed to pick up any gays, despite my friend (who is gay) grabbing hold of various lesbians and steering them in the direction of my face. *sigh* #Straightgirlproblems

Charolastras

This week I have been mostly languishing in bed socks and pajama tops indoors. Drinking tea, and staring down the barrel of a computer or pen.


I don't know if so much time spend interned has had the effect of making me dreamy, and imprisoned in my own girlish mind, like the girls in the Virgin Suicides.

So far nobody has yet called me just to play a record down the phone.


in an attempt to live vicariously through others (healthy) I've been reading Freak Out! My Life with Frank Zappa, by 'Par-lene' Butler


I also like to keep a copy of Pamela Des Barres' (= Original Band Aid and Groupie Goddess Extraordinaire) book I'm with The Band on my person as often as possible.
I know it well enough now that I can pretty instantaneously flip to the best bits

(Keith Moon getting Jekylled up in lingerie and heels in Frank Zappa's pool house- Pamela's home, popping pills like smarties and lunging between frenzied prowling of her body and inconsolable paranoid tears for hours on end /












Pamela throwing roses from the audience at greasy-quiffed, mumbling, cowboy Waylon Jennings, resulting in him having a good go at 'shoving her through the wall' before tipping his hat like a good southern boy and clicking off on his heels into the night)  


and gorge my lascivious heart to its content.


It's all making me wish for the 70s, when the kind of 'apple-catchers required' skirts I like to wear were probably if anything too long, and Cosmic American Music was just being born.


So like the good christian girl I am I have compiled my list of top 5 cosmic american charolastras to cram into my Bill and Ted time machine phonebox with me for a few hours:


1- Gram Parsons

The prophet of cosmic american music. Kind of like an olden days Pete Doherty, he was an old fashioned Southern State hot mess, coming from old money and alcoholism and then some. Everyone I've ever heard describe him had tried to save him. It's the story that keeps on repeating.


I would do ANYTHING to get to sit on the edge of this boy's bath. or just like... drink his bathwater. I wouldn't even care that he was a massive junkie (which i gather makes you kind of unclean / boring / incapable). I love a project.


2- Chris Hillman

Has a healthy moustache like a grown up man. But little.

 Plus fuzz hair is the hottest to chew on. 

He and Gram used to live together in Los Angeles (before it went shit and got full of vacuous, celery crunching, biscuit coloured, taking-their-tiny-rat-dog-to-the-pet-therapist, bubble-headed morons) while they were in the Flying Burrito Brothers together.


Imagine the DNA you could steal snooping round that house. Imagine the whiff of bromance everywhere. Its making my ovaries need to explode so moving on.....


3- Frank Zappa

He is of Italian extraction. Italian-ness is an important element in my future happiness- (see here).


plus this: "He answered politely and I felt somewhat reassured until he pulled me close and pressed my head against his shoulder. We continued talking in a lighthearted, jokey way while a thousand incoherent worries niggled in my mind. He leant down and brushed the base of my neck with his moustache and i scrunched up my shoulders and giggled. That set him off and he began tickling me all over...
Somehow in the thrashing about he found my lips and kissed me. 
'So Par-leen' he said at last, 'do you think if we fucked you could still work as my secretary?'"
enough said. 


Plus 'I Promise Not to Come in Your Mouth' is possibly the greatest song title of all time. for a song with no lyrics.


4- The GTOs. All of them

You get compliments, sleep overs, boob-rubs, gossip, companionship, kisses,

drinking buddies, No cock-based pressure, and like a billion lunatics to scrounge clothes and makeup from.
WAY better than any boyfriend.


5- Robbie Robertson

A SILLY amount of hot to be inside one man. And one name, recycled!
Plus he was in The Band,
and by the looks of things they knew EVERYONE.

p.s HOW cute (read: wasted) is Neil Young in this video? guhhhsh.
p.p.s. HOW much of an uptight librarian is Joni Mitchell? its almost like she doesn't like to have a spangled Neil Young leering down her cleavage and breathing vile drug stink all over her.... what's that about??