Things I Learnt While at Home Visiting my Faminals.

1- my mother is a would-be murderess / potential merciful angel of death

. apparently she is just ironing out some kinks in the details with regards to not getting caught.

Comforting. wouldn't do to have a murderous beast in the family if on top of that she got locked away in prison as well. Who would do my ironing? 

2- When it comes to your siblings you are never too old to use farts as a weapon

3- the prices in Lidl are the last bastion of continuity in our ailing world. 

The 18p noodles remain 18p since I last went there when i was doing my undergrad.

We actually lived on the same road as a Lidl back then and i went in so much that the guy who worked on the counter decided this must be evidence that i was in love with him and gave me his number.

and by ‘so much’… i mean like it got to a stage where once a day was a restrained amount to be going. Mostly in pajamas. to buy popcorn and cloudy lemonade.

4- commuters are the absolute POND SCUM of the earth. 

I am hesitant to generalise this statement to include all of them, as my dad is actually a commuter and i love him very much (he gave me the gift of life i guess so fair play)

But i was almost knocked over multiple times trying to cross London Victoria station, by suit-wearing, briefcase brandishing fucking arsehole Smithers-Jones’ who apparently had a greater right than anyone else to barge their way onto the train first, so they could rush home to their awful wives they probably hate and have Marks and Sparks fish pie and socks-on, lights-off ‘intercourse’ before newsnight. URGH. 

5- I have purchased a knitted poncho. and i can confirm that it is literally impossible to be unhappy while wearing a poncho. 

Also the poncho has met with nothing but antipathy and hate since I bought it. But i am channelling David Crosby… and the sound of all the fucks not being given can be heard from miles around! 

Twitter vs. Facebook, a tangled love affair.

I recently got rid of my Facebook in an act of wild destructive hedonism.
Instead I am emptying my brain regularly onto twitter, and I must say, I feel like a whole new woman.




Here are my reasons for why twitter is like SO FETCH. and better than facebook.

1- with twitter it is less likely that traj people from your school can hunt you down and clog up your newsfeed and life with depressing pictures of
- the spawn they are incubating in their evil loins


- the car they just bought in an attempt to persuade themselves and the world that they are something other than a complete waste of skin

oh my god. help me take off my bra! 

- food they've recently eaten (usually accompanied by the words NOM NOM. #Killmenow)


- the parade of desperate local gomers and deviants they currently LUV4EVA XOXOX <3<3 along with pictures of them mashing their lips together while one cold dead eye stares down the camera like 'yeah, feast your eyes bitchez.'

2- But on the flipside, on those rare unfortunate days when crying and eating icecream straight from the tub is not enough and you feel like: 

... if only there was some kind of human alternative to the horses nosebag that you could attach to your hideous face that could serve the double whammy of hiding a few of your chins while leaving both arms free for wiping away tears / stabbing holes in celebrities perfect faces on the pages of trashy magazines (just me....?) 

- twitter has much less provision for privacy, so you have much easier access to the people you want to stalk to cheer yourself up and make you aware how much worse life could really be.  

3- Instead of just general losers from your town to stalk on Twitter you can stalk famuz people! 
This obviously makes for better stalking because drunken hot mess celebrities have more money to fuel their lunacy.
Case Study #1~ La Lohan
Sends demented public tweets to girlfriend? ex-girlfriend? does anybody care?

Which is fairly standard practise i guess. Show me the one of us who hasn't at some point sat with one eye closed (the only anti-drunk phone using technique to be seen sporting this spring) and their finger loomed over the send button on some ludicrous and experimentally-punctuated stream of consciousness which in our heads sounds like finger-snapping Real Talk worthy of Miss Jay,

But which in real life just sounds like the sound of your dignity quietly dripping away  like a melting icepop. 

Anyway, this aside Lindsay took neurotic unrequited-lover a step further, by moving out of rehab into the house next door to ex-girlfran Sam Ronson. 

 It's like a kind of poetic Shakespearean tragedy carcrash, a beautiful tableau of madness and horror. 

And exactly the kind of information we all need to reassure us that everything will be ok. 

Lindsay Lohan indulges in this kind of unbridled looning about once a month, and she is still an EPIC BOSS.

 

OWN THE MADNESS. 


and if anyone tries to bring you down- move in next door to them immediately!