Sorry guys. I'm really crap at this and I think really we are nearing the end of my tolerance for updating my blog.
Yeah.
I really love you all though.
But I am now boring and have set myself the challenge, as of writing this sentence, of having a whole chapter of a book written by the time I (possibly) go to university.
And considering I have written anything of worth in a VERY long time, I'd better get cracking.
<3
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
It's Almost Been A Month
Sorry about that. Things all went a little bit mad, with a bunch of people turning eighteen and a whole shiteload of revision being done. I do miss writing this, I just don't have a lot of time anymore. Over the summer, for sure, I will start writing more.
And then in September when I inevitably fail to get into university, I will be writing constantly.
Anyway.
This isn't really about catching up, I'm a wee bit of a bad mood bear today.
This is literally a post to point out that all my friends are stupidly beautiful, and I hope that one day, with me telling them enough, they will actually start to believe me.
They are not Barbie dolls. Not one of them. Apart from maybe Hanna, but it isn't her fault that she is blonde and likes pink an awful lot.
They are all, however, individuals with their own dress sense and their own way of looking and their own personalities, and that is what makes them all so fucking beautiful.
If we are honest, my friends and I, none of us can feel that we follow the lines of what is now considered traditionally pretty. The stick thin, plastic features with enormous drawn on eyebrows and our bellies hanging out and frankly that is just plain refreshing. I walk through the corridors at college and feel a concious sense of relief when I reach my friends, because I no longer have to make sure all my back fat is covered.
I like that we don't think like the girls who turn up in a tshirt and leggings. Nothing pisses me off more than tshirts and leggings and not even a skirt or something. I do NOT want to see foo-foo in college. Ever. If I want to see foo-foo, I will look at porn.
Anyway. This is not supposed to be me bitching.
This is me telling all my friends that they are actually beautiful to me. All of them. No homo. (Well. A little bit homo, but shhhhhhh.)
I love them. I really do. Even the ones who are being hideously bitchy at the moment and either need to tell me what I've done or jog on. Still love. I have too much of it bumping around in me, and my way of not becoming polyamorous is to throw as much of it at you lot as possible.
So yeah.
You're all really beautiful, and it is only because I know better that I am not posting multiple pictures of you all on here to prove it.
Big love, but it's Russian history time. (Essentially farming and pointless wars, but I can't turn that into two sixty mark questions.) XXXXXXXXXXXXX
And then in September when I inevitably fail to get into university, I will be writing constantly.
Anyway.
This isn't really about catching up, I'm a wee bit of a bad mood bear today.
This is literally a post to point out that all my friends are stupidly beautiful, and I hope that one day, with me telling them enough, they will actually start to believe me.
They are not Barbie dolls. Not one of them. Apart from maybe Hanna, but it isn't her fault that she is blonde and likes pink an awful lot.
They are all, however, individuals with their own dress sense and their own way of looking and their own personalities, and that is what makes them all so fucking beautiful.
If we are honest, my friends and I, none of us can feel that we follow the lines of what is now considered traditionally pretty. The stick thin, plastic features with enormous drawn on eyebrows and our bellies hanging out and frankly that is just plain refreshing. I walk through the corridors at college and feel a concious sense of relief when I reach my friends, because I no longer have to make sure all my back fat is covered.
I like that we don't think like the girls who turn up in a tshirt and leggings. Nothing pisses me off more than tshirts and leggings and not even a skirt or something. I do NOT want to see foo-foo in college. Ever. If I want to see foo-foo, I will look at porn.
Anyway. This is not supposed to be me bitching.
This is me telling all my friends that they are actually beautiful to me. All of them. No homo. (Well. A little bit homo, but shhhhhhh.)
I love them. I really do. Even the ones who are being hideously bitchy at the moment and either need to tell me what I've done or jog on. Still love. I have too much of it bumping around in me, and my way of not becoming polyamorous is to throw as much of it at you lot as possible.
So yeah.
You're all really beautiful, and it is only because I know better that I am not posting multiple pictures of you all on here to prove it.
Big love, but it's Russian history time. (Essentially farming and pointless wars, but I can't turn that into two sixty mark questions.) XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Catch Up And A Confession
I've missed having the spare hours to actually write a blog. Despite my odd, self-derogatory bit last week. I vote we all just ignore that.
Anyway, catching up time.
Last week was Carl's engagement party. I did not, as threatened, go as a rainbow. Sarah somehow found out that I was trying to wind her up, which is outrageously irritating.
The party was pretty damn good.
It would appear that you can indeed get something of a mild hangover from three Malibu and Cokes.
His fiancée is a complete babe. I approve. I am informed that my approval probably wasn't necessary, but it's a nice added extra, I think.
There was some major singing done.
When I say singing, we picked all the songs we used to scream at each other in senior school and proceeded to thoroughly embarrass ourselves.
Cracking night.
Forgot what I was doing and chatted up my own boyfriend.
Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
He made a mustache out of a napkin.
We're too cool.
Time for a confession that is totally unrelated to me getting drunk.
And everything to do with how much I hate one of the bitches in my film class.
She rarely turns up, which is completely okay as far as I'm concerned, and when she turned up for the second half of our mock test without a pen, I got a bit pissed off at her.
Pretending to be kind and knowing that she was never going to write much and would instead sit there chatting to the other bitches all lesson, I lent her my pen.
The pen that whenever you press down on the nib, it unclicks itself.
Oh, the hilarity.
After about a half hour of silence, she tried to write a few words.
It kept unclicking.
So fucking funny it hurt.
She threw a tantrum.
Later in the lesson, my friend Lauren turned up, who is one of the only decent people in the ENTIRE class. I therefore forgive her for being a bit shit at the whole punctuality thing.
Yes, Queen of Nerds, I know.
She noticed too how the cow was making a fuss.
I found her later and told her what I had done with the pen.
I think she loves me a little bit more now.
I certainly love me a little bit more now.
I feel SO much better about film.
Plus, a week on Monday I NEVER EVER HAVE TO GO TO ANOTHER LESSON OF FILM EVER EVER AGAIN.
Sweet relief.
Off I toddle. Love you all. xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Anyway, catching up time.
Last week was Carl's engagement party. I did not, as threatened, go as a rainbow. Sarah somehow found out that I was trying to wind her up, which is outrageously irritating.
The party was pretty damn good.
It would appear that you can indeed get something of a mild hangover from three Malibu and Cokes.
His fiancée is a complete babe. I approve. I am informed that my approval probably wasn't necessary, but it's a nice added extra, I think.
There was some major singing done.
When I say singing, we picked all the songs we used to scream at each other in senior school and proceeded to thoroughly embarrass ourselves.
Cracking night.
Forgot what I was doing and chatted up my own boyfriend.
Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
He made a mustache out of a napkin.
We're too cool.
Time for a confession that is totally unrelated to me getting drunk.
And everything to do with how much I hate one of the bitches in my film class.
She rarely turns up, which is completely okay as far as I'm concerned, and when she turned up for the second half of our mock test without a pen, I got a bit pissed off at her.
Pretending to be kind and knowing that she was never going to write much and would instead sit there chatting to the other bitches all lesson, I lent her my pen.
The pen that whenever you press down on the nib, it unclicks itself.
Oh, the hilarity.
After about a half hour of silence, she tried to write a few words.
It kept unclicking.
So fucking funny it hurt.
She threw a tantrum.
Later in the lesson, my friend Lauren turned up, who is one of the only decent people in the ENTIRE class. I therefore forgive her for being a bit shit at the whole punctuality thing.
Yes, Queen of Nerds, I know.
She noticed too how the cow was making a fuss.
I found her later and told her what I had done with the pen.
I think she loves me a little bit more now.
I certainly love me a little bit more now.
I feel SO much better about film.
Plus, a week on Monday I NEVER EVER HAVE TO GO TO ANOTHER LESSON OF FILM EVER EVER AGAIN.
Sweet relief.
Off I toddle. Love you all. xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sunday, April 29, 2012
The Issue With This Blog
I read other blogs than my own. Infrequently, but I do.
I read Retro Rack, which is a vintage clothing blog by a heavily bosomed author whom I completely adore.
I read World Of Ledzebra, which is a blog by one of my best friends, describing her slightly mental life with her dog Mungo and cat Nelson. And, ofc, the lesser humans.
I also read Katie's blogs, of which she has made many and posts to few.
You see, in this blog I normally fritter away word counts on things like who I'm seeing, what I had for dinner, what petty little issue that is pissing me off that day, like how Blogger has changed it's format and my ex has deleted his Facebook and oh woe is me.
You know, attention seeking crap.
That is essentially all it is.
And then I look at these other blogs and think "Fucking hell, I'm shallower than a puddle of spit."
All of the crap I spout about on this blog is pretty inconsequential. Like the several blogs about what a complete jackass Harry was. Describing my antics with booze. What I try to do is document moments in my life to almost create a diary and I am very steadily realising that I am incredibly shallow, very attention seeking and don't have even the smallest bit of perspective on anything.
Which is a bit shit.
I'm going to try and decide whether or not this matters.
I think two years ago, or even last year, it would really, really have mattered to me.
The attention seeking thing still does.
However, the bit where I'm shallow, out of touch with stuff like global politics and big issues like feminism in the workplace and gay marriage rights and who to actually vote for in the upcoming local elections, it just doesn't bother me that much.
See, the me of two years ago and even last year felt she was of above average intelligence and could do whatever the hell she wanted with her life. The me of two years ago had it all sorted out in her head and was going to teach English for a few years while she wrote her first novel, sell it, make millions, marry a nice man and then give up working to procreate and collect a large wardrobe of vintage clothes and also make a difference. Do some charity work or something, foster some extra kids, stuff like that.
But I don't even know if I'm going to uni now.
And now I'm getting a degree in Sociology, what the hell am I going to do with it?
I don't know if I want to teach.
I feel like I should be doing something really academic, or at least I though I felt like I should be doing something really academic. But all that's been buggered over, because I'm lazy and I'm failing and I might not even get into uni, to be honest.
I'm considering ditching every last bit of even trying to be academic now.
I know I'm smart, but I have literally no motivation to do this any more.
I am so seriously considering saying fuck this shit to everything college based, working and saving for a few years and getting a loan from a bank to start a café.
It would have books along one wall and paintings along another and two floors so I could sell some clothes and some more paintings and maybe odd furniture too.
It would be somewhere quiet and cute, with that purple flower growing up the side that I don't even remember the name of now.
Wysteria or something like that.
Purple and nice smelling.
Sod it, I'm reading the style section out of the Times.
I read Retro Rack, which is a vintage clothing blog by a heavily bosomed author whom I completely adore.
I read World Of Ledzebra, which is a blog by one of my best friends, describing her slightly mental life with her dog Mungo and cat Nelson. And, ofc, the lesser humans.
I also read Katie's blogs, of which she has made many and posts to few.
You see, in this blog I normally fritter away word counts on things like who I'm seeing, what I had for dinner, what petty little issue that is pissing me off that day, like how Blogger has changed it's format and my ex has deleted his Facebook and oh woe is me.
You know, attention seeking crap.
That is essentially all it is.
And then I look at these other blogs and think "Fucking hell, I'm shallower than a puddle of spit."
All of the crap I spout about on this blog is pretty inconsequential. Like the several blogs about what a complete jackass Harry was. Describing my antics with booze. What I try to do is document moments in my life to almost create a diary and I am very steadily realising that I am incredibly shallow, very attention seeking and don't have even the smallest bit of perspective on anything.
Which is a bit shit.
I'm going to try and decide whether or not this matters.
I think two years ago, or even last year, it would really, really have mattered to me.
The attention seeking thing still does.
However, the bit where I'm shallow, out of touch with stuff like global politics and big issues like feminism in the workplace and gay marriage rights and who to actually vote for in the upcoming local elections, it just doesn't bother me that much.
See, the me of two years ago and even last year felt she was of above average intelligence and could do whatever the hell she wanted with her life. The me of two years ago had it all sorted out in her head and was going to teach English for a few years while she wrote her first novel, sell it, make millions, marry a nice man and then give up working to procreate and collect a large wardrobe of vintage clothes and also make a difference. Do some charity work or something, foster some extra kids, stuff like that.
But I don't even know if I'm going to uni now.
And now I'm getting a degree in Sociology, what the hell am I going to do with it?
I don't know if I want to teach.
I feel like I should be doing something really academic, or at least I though I felt like I should be doing something really academic. But all that's been buggered over, because I'm lazy and I'm failing and I might not even get into uni, to be honest.
I'm considering ditching every last bit of even trying to be academic now.
I know I'm smart, but I have literally no motivation to do this any more.
I am so seriously considering saying fuck this shit to everything college based, working and saving for a few years and getting a loan from a bank to start a café.
It would have books along one wall and paintings along another and two floors so I could sell some clothes and some more paintings and maybe odd furniture too.
It would be somewhere quiet and cute, with that purple flower growing up the side that I don't even remember the name of now.
Wysteria or something like that.
Purple and nice smelling.
Sod it, I'm reading the style section out of the Times.
Genuine Disappointment
I got a text to my phone at lunchtime from Ellie, asking whether or not I wanted to go to town with him and his nan Ange today.
FUCK YES I WANTED TO GO.
But no.
I was at work.
I am so freaking disappointed it's a bit unreal.
I have met Ellie's nan Ange only once and immediately completely adored her.
Totally and utterly.
Bloody brilliant woman.
So being offered the opportunity to see her again and not being able to and instead having to sell people ridiculously priced garden equipment is a bit of a kick in the teeth.
Gah.
And now I have to do revision so that Ellie can come over later and so that he can eat the Rice Krispie square I have for him and then I CAN EAT MINE.
Sigh.
Bye guys <3
FUCK YES I WANTED TO GO.
But no.
I was at work.
I am so freaking disappointed it's a bit unreal.
I have met Ellie's nan Ange only once and immediately completely adored her.
Totally and utterly.
Bloody brilliant woman.
So being offered the opportunity to see her again and not being able to and instead having to sell people ridiculously priced garden equipment is a bit of a kick in the teeth.
Gah.
And now I have to do revision so that Ellie can come over later and so that he can eat the Rice Krispie square I have for him and then I CAN EAT MINE.
Sigh.
Bye guys <3
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Luli and I are GOING TO DISNEYLAND
I get gradually more excited every time I think about it.
I am currently trying to read the brochure so I can decide whether or not it is necessary for her to read but I have to stop every couple of pages because I am just too excited.
Seriously.
I jumped up and down in my spinny chair and almost hurt myself.
SO excited.
I freaking love Disney.
It contains the vast majority of my favourite rides.
Everyone else is putting a down on this lesson (okay, yeah, technically in lesson) by talking about Frankenstein and how horrific it all is.
Whatever.
I'ma meet Donald Duck.
I'm looking at all the restaurants.
The issue is that it all costs moneys.
I have no idea how much money I'm even going to have.
I'm not allowed to spend megabucks this month so I can save up.
My mouth is getting all watery just thinking about it.
I wannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnt the foods.
Abi is now doing her online clothes shopping in lesson.
Casual.
It's not like we EVER do anything in prep now.
Nor have we ever done anything in prep.
It's a relax lesson, in my opinion.
It is for calm.
EEEEEEEEEEE!
I am so excited I think I will burst.
It is fifty nine days to go.
When I get back, I will make a big blog post about it.
There is a website called HiddenDLRP (Disneyland Resort Paris) which is SO cool, because it shows you all the stuff that the average Joe would miss.
The Hidden Mickeys are my favourite, though some are a little tenuous.
There's someone bitching in one of the posts.
I hate people like that.
Especially because he is wrong.
So funny at some bits though.
To the moon in a fart of glory!
LOGGING OUT TO SHARE THIS STUFF WITH MY MUM BYE
I am currently trying to read the brochure so I can decide whether or not it is necessary for her to read but I have to stop every couple of pages because I am just too excited.
Seriously.
I jumped up and down in my spinny chair and almost hurt myself.
SO excited.
I freaking love Disney.
It contains the vast majority of my favourite rides.
Everyone else is putting a down on this lesson (okay, yeah, technically in lesson) by talking about Frankenstein and how horrific it all is.
Whatever.
I'ma meet Donald Duck.
I'm looking at all the restaurants.
The issue is that it all costs moneys.
I have no idea how much money I'm even going to have.
I'm not allowed to spend megabucks this month so I can save up.
My mouth is getting all watery just thinking about it.
I wannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnt the foods.
Abi is now doing her online clothes shopping in lesson.
Casual.
It's not like we EVER do anything in prep now.
Nor have we ever done anything in prep.
It's a relax lesson, in my opinion.
It is for calm.
EEEEEEEEEEE!
It is fifty nine days to go.
When I get back, I will make a big blog post about it.
There is a website called HiddenDLRP (Disneyland Resort Paris) which is SO cool, because it shows you all the stuff that the average Joe would miss.
The Hidden Mickeys are my favourite, though some are a little tenuous.
There's someone bitching in one of the posts.
I hate people like that.
Especially because he is wrong.
So funny at some bits though.
To the moon in a fart of glory!
LOGGING OUT TO SHARE THIS STUFF WITH MY MUM BYE
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The First Write-It-In-My-Free Blog For AGES
I'll do some filling in for you, I haven't actually done a decent blog in ages.
A lot of bitching, as far as I can see, but nothing particularly interesting.
So maybe I'll do something good in this one.
Chris Evans is playing Layla and talking to people who play lutes. It is clearly going to be one of those mornings.
Yes, yes I should definitely be doing my essay on Mephistopheles, if only I cared.
I'll do it eventually.
Ellie won't have done it, so I can totally blame it on him.
He managed to cover himself in Creme Egg yesterday. It was hilarious, I took pictures and I will devote a post to it later.
What did I do last week?
I recall promising you my further adventures into adulthood.
YES.
Hanna's birthday.
Fairly hilarious evening.
I wore my only piece of REALLY vintage clothing. I have a lot of stuff that pretends to be vintage but does just look vintage. My only piece of REAL vintage is my white dinner waistcoat.
It is TECHNICALLY a man's waistcoat. I could not care less. I frequently wear men's clothing. I am wearing men's clothing as we speak, in the form of hat, cardigan and shoes.
What makes my waistcoat REALLY cool, apart from the fact that it's a vintage dinner waistcoat, is the buttons.
The buttons are FRUIT SHAPED.
FRUIT SHAPED BUTTONS.
So exciting.
I am forever in debt to Cathy at Hepwright's who is a goddess and spent far too much of her time putting two apples and a lemon onto my waistcoat for me.
Anyway, wore the waistcoat, black blouse and cardy, green jeans and my black prom shoes, which appear to be becoming my standard going out shoes, as I am planning on wearing them to Carl's thing which is... Friday? Oh bloody hell. Carlos, can you give me an estimate of when it'll be finishing? I'll either need to get a night bus or get a lift home. Ergh, organising.
Back to Hanna's thing. I am nothing if not marvellous at... Oh my Goodness I've forgotten the word.
Ohhhhhhh.
It begins with a D.
Anyway.
I got off the subject.
I turned up at the pub in town (The Giddy Bridge, not bad) and started looking for people I knew.
About twenty seconds later I realised I was a fairly feeble woman, alone in a fairly rowdy pub.
Concerned for my welfare and despite the weather, I decided to wait outside for someone to arrive, as I was at least five minutes late and reasoned that if I was late, people must come along soon.
Specifically Hanna.
How wrong I was.
I texted both Hanna and Ellie in an effort not to be alone.
Ellie was in ASDA and on his way, so that was alright.
Hanna called me off her boyfriend's phone a few minutes later, telling me she had had what she called a "wardrobe crisis" and would be there when she could.
Five minutes later I was joined by Jess and Vince, and subsequently Domi, who I have now met and is lovely, so I added her on Facebook.
As you do.
DIGRESS.
The word was digress.
I digressed.
There we go, much better.
Anyway, we grabbed a table, Vince bought two beers at once and we waited for Hanna.
Who turned up 45 minutes late for her own party, hilariously.
Her "wardrobe crisis" was that she had decided her dress was too short and went to take it back, bought a jumpsuit to wear that wouldn't do up, and then re-bought the original dress as far as I can tell.
It was outrageously short.
And very tight.
And could be undone with a zip that went all the way down the front.
But anyway, we all got a little tipsy, I flirted with Luke, and then Ellie and I got a little bit kicked out because he doesn't have any I.D.
Whoops.
There's a good reason for that, but don't tell the bouncer.
We'd got into the pub before the bouncers were even out, to be fair.
It was a pretty good night though.
Apparently there are a lot of pictures of feet on Jess' camera, but because she's a numpty and chose to do the IB, she is too stressed to spend her time uploading any photos.
Something like 15 exams.
SO glad I didn't pick it.
Was apparently clever enough.
I completely disagree.
I am and will forever remain in complete awe of anyone who does the IB, as they have to put up with so much. All the exams at the end of two years and SIX SUBJECTS.
Six.
That includes science and maths and stuff.
I'd have DIED.
I'm surprised no-one HAS.
Like this:
Like I said, forever in awe.
AND I discovered Malibu.
Malibu is gorgeous.
Apparently, people have been instructing Ellie on what to allow me to wear for Carl's party on Friday.
Unimpressed.
Will wear what I please.
TO BE FAIR I am a lot more sedate in what I wear now than I was when I was 14 or so.
For example, I used to wear neon pink shoes with neon blue hoodies.
Now I have neon pink with a fairly sedate green and a nice hat.
I fully intended on just going a little bit vintage, maybe some slag shoes, enough lipstick to blind people.
The usual.
May go a little overboard because now I feel restrained.
See, I WASN'T planning on doing anything like this:
But now...
How quickly can a top hat be crocheted, do you suppose?
Having found a pattern, it will only take me a few hours, and so is completely achievable in the three days I have left.
Hmmmm...
Casually stick a link in so I can find it later.
How difficult would it be to attach a veil?
Hmmm...
I think I'd look delightful.
Perhaps add a parrot.
To match the parrot skirt.
How many colours CAN you get in one outfit?
I think later I will go home and experiment with this idea.
I have bright red shoes, electric blue dress.
Green tights somewhere.
Although, if I borrow Lu's mum's hot pink sandals, I can wear my bright red suit jacket.
That's a plan.
I also have yarn that makes spots.
Or yellow.
Ooooh, yellow.
A yellow top hat, blue dress, red jacket, green tights, hot pink shoes.
Excellent.
I have a plan.
I feel like this is apt vengeance.
How many colours do I not have?
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
Red jacket, orange... HAIR, yellow top hat, green tights, blue dress, pink shoes (it'll do), purple... nails and jewellery I think.
Cracking.
The ENTIRE rainbow.
I wonder if I could persuade Ellie to take part in this revenge...
He's got braces with musical instruments on them, a couple of colourful shirts...
This is entirely possible.
Oh, this could be so much fun.
I am acutely aware that the people next to me are laughing, possibly at me.
Which means I'm going to bitch about how it's a library, could you put your fucking sandwiches away, please?
I could make a stripey top hat to wear.
I have loads of colours of yarn.
Yellow, pink, green...
Two types of pink, actually.
Hmmm.
Hehehehehe.
I'll give you loud.
People need to learn that I see restrictions as challenges.
Stupid people.
Thinking about it, I could paint my nails in all the colours I have.
And I have a lot.
More than I have nails.
Thing is, if I get masking tape, I can put more than one colour on each.
Bloody hungry now.
I always get like this.
My whole lunch consists of an Easter Egg, because instead of doing stuff like packing my lunch this morning, I went on Facebook.
Bloody laptop.
It glitters, which is SO exciting, but because it is so exciting I want to be on it ALL the time.
Which means my stomach suffers.
And I'm not sure I'm going to be able to explain to Ellie that I need lunch off him again.
And I really can't do that or we can't have drinks on Friday.
Which I have already told him he has to pay for because I'm broke.
Which is completely true.
Think I'm going to have to persuade my mother to lend me a fiver.
I get paid the day after the party.
So very, very irritated.
I think it would be better if I got paid every two weeks.
I can make a fiver last a while, but when I have a big chunk of money it goes in minutes.
Which sucks.
I am so, SO bad at money.
Very bad. VERY bad.
It would be a lot better for me to just get someone else to give me a daily allowance on all my moneys.
Then, I might not plan on going and getting more holes stuck in my ears and buying train tickets the second I get any money in.
25 minutes left of this free.
I am definitely not allowed to come back on Blogger after my mid-morning break.
I have an essay and coursework and so many other constructive things to be doing.
And yet, I will probably be back on here finding pictures of crochet top hats.
Or better.
Crochet. Pirate. Hat.
Sold.
Oh HELL yeah.
I am going to look SO good on Friday.
Get a giant feather.
Got distracted by crochet patterns now...
This is genius.
Not crochet, but genius.
http://www.craftster.org/forum/index.php?topic=388327.0
Oooooooooh, I want.
I particularly want the green ones.
Right, I'm leaving. If there are any more blog posts after this yell at me, I HAVE to do work.
Also yell at me if I don't show you my top hat in progress.
LOVES. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A lot of bitching, as far as I can see, but nothing particularly interesting.
So maybe I'll do something good in this one.
Chris Evans is playing Layla and talking to people who play lutes. It is clearly going to be one of those mornings.
Yes, yes I should definitely be doing my essay on Mephistopheles, if only I cared.
I'll do it eventually.
Ellie won't have done it, so I can totally blame it on him.
He managed to cover himself in Creme Egg yesterday. It was hilarious, I took pictures and I will devote a post to it later.
What did I do last week?
I recall promising you my further adventures into adulthood.
YES.
Hanna's birthday.
Fairly hilarious evening.
I wore my only piece of REALLY vintage clothing. I have a lot of stuff that pretends to be vintage but does just look vintage. My only piece of REAL vintage is my white dinner waistcoat.
It is TECHNICALLY a man's waistcoat. I could not care less. I frequently wear men's clothing. I am wearing men's clothing as we speak, in the form of hat, cardigan and shoes.
What makes my waistcoat REALLY cool, apart from the fact that it's a vintage dinner waistcoat, is the buttons.
The buttons are FRUIT SHAPED.
FRUIT SHAPED BUTTONS.
So exciting.
I am forever in debt to Cathy at Hepwright's who is a goddess and spent far too much of her time putting two apples and a lemon onto my waistcoat for me.
Anyway, wore the waistcoat, black blouse and cardy, green jeans and my black prom shoes, which appear to be becoming my standard going out shoes, as I am planning on wearing them to Carl's thing which is... Friday? Oh bloody hell. Carlos, can you give me an estimate of when it'll be finishing? I'll either need to get a night bus or get a lift home. Ergh, organising.
Back to Hanna's thing. I am nothing if not marvellous at... Oh my Goodness I've forgotten the word.
Ohhhhhhh.
It begins with a D.
Anyway.
I got off the subject.
I turned up at the pub in town (The Giddy Bridge, not bad) and started looking for people I knew.
About twenty seconds later I realised I was a fairly feeble woman, alone in a fairly rowdy pub.
Concerned for my welfare and despite the weather, I decided to wait outside for someone to arrive, as I was at least five minutes late and reasoned that if I was late, people must come along soon.
Specifically Hanna.
How wrong I was.
I texted both Hanna and Ellie in an effort not to be alone.
Ellie was in ASDA and on his way, so that was alright.
Hanna called me off her boyfriend's phone a few minutes later, telling me she had had what she called a "wardrobe crisis" and would be there when she could.
Five minutes later I was joined by Jess and Vince, and subsequently Domi, who I have now met and is lovely, so I added her on Facebook.
As you do.
DIGRESS.
The word was digress.
I digressed.
There we go, much better.
Anyway, we grabbed a table, Vince bought two beers at once and we waited for Hanna.
Who turned up 45 minutes late for her own party, hilariously.
Her "wardrobe crisis" was that she had decided her dress was too short and went to take it back, bought a jumpsuit to wear that wouldn't do up, and then re-bought the original dress as far as I can tell.
It was outrageously short.
And very tight.
And could be undone with a zip that went all the way down the front.
But anyway, we all got a little tipsy, I flirted with Luke, and then Ellie and I got a little bit kicked out because he doesn't have any I.D.
Whoops.
There's a good reason for that, but don't tell the bouncer.
We'd got into the pub before the bouncers were even out, to be fair.
It was a pretty good night though.
Apparently there are a lot of pictures of feet on Jess' camera, but because she's a numpty and chose to do the IB, she is too stressed to spend her time uploading any photos.
Something like 15 exams.
SO glad I didn't pick it.
Was apparently clever enough.
I completely disagree.
I am and will forever remain in complete awe of anyone who does the IB, as they have to put up with so much. All the exams at the end of two years and SIX SUBJECTS.
Six.
That includes science and maths and stuff.
I'd have DIED.
I'm surprised no-one HAS.
Like this:
AND I discovered Malibu.
Malibu is gorgeous.
Apparently, people have been instructing Ellie on what to allow me to wear for Carl's party on Friday.
Unimpressed.
Will wear what I please.
TO BE FAIR I am a lot more sedate in what I wear now than I was when I was 14 or so.
For example, I used to wear neon pink shoes with neon blue hoodies.
Now I have neon pink with a fairly sedate green and a nice hat.
I fully intended on just going a little bit vintage, maybe some slag shoes, enough lipstick to blind people.
The usual.
May go a little overboard because now I feel restrained.
See, I WASN'T planning on doing anything like this:
 |
| If I could just BE Helena Bonham Carter, I'd be a happy bunny. |
But now...
How quickly can a top hat be crocheted, do you suppose?
Having found a pattern, it will only take me a few hours, and so is completely achievable in the three days I have left.
Hmmmm...
Casually stick a link in so I can find it later.
How difficult would it be to attach a veil?
Hmmm...
I think I'd look delightful.
Perhaps add a parrot.
To match the parrot skirt.
How many colours CAN you get in one outfit?
I think later I will go home and experiment with this idea.
I have bright red shoes, electric blue dress.
Green tights somewhere.
Although, if I borrow Lu's mum's hot pink sandals, I can wear my bright red suit jacket.
That's a plan.
I also have yarn that makes spots.
Or yellow.
Ooooh, yellow.
A yellow top hat, blue dress, red jacket, green tights, hot pink shoes.
Excellent.
I have a plan.
I feel like this is apt vengeance.
How many colours do I not have?
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
Red jacket, orange... HAIR, yellow top hat, green tights, blue dress, pink shoes (it'll do), purple... nails and jewellery I think.
Cracking.
The ENTIRE rainbow.
I wonder if I could persuade Ellie to take part in this revenge...
He's got braces with musical instruments on them, a couple of colourful shirts...
This is entirely possible.
Oh, this could be so much fun.
 |
| I have no idea what this is, but it sums up the concept of what I plan to wear this week. |
 |
| Hula hoops! Why didn't I think of that? |
 |
| How I'm going to look after I'm done co-ordinating. |
I am acutely aware that the people next to me are laughing, possibly at me.
Which means I'm going to bitch about how it's a library, could you put your fucking sandwiches away, please?
I could make a stripey top hat to wear.
I have loads of colours of yarn.
Yellow, pink, green...
Two types of pink, actually.
Hmmm.
Hehehehehe.
I'll give you loud.
People need to learn that I see restrictions as challenges.
Stupid people.
Thinking about it, I could paint my nails in all the colours I have.
And I have a lot.
More than I have nails.
Thing is, if I get masking tape, I can put more than one colour on each.
Bloody hungry now.
I always get like this.
My whole lunch consists of an Easter Egg, because instead of doing stuff like packing my lunch this morning, I went on Facebook.
Bloody laptop.
It glitters, which is SO exciting, but because it is so exciting I want to be on it ALL the time.
Which means my stomach suffers.
And I'm not sure I'm going to be able to explain to Ellie that I need lunch off him again.
And I really can't do that or we can't have drinks on Friday.
Which I have already told him he has to pay for because I'm broke.
Which is completely true.
Think I'm going to have to persuade my mother to lend me a fiver.
I get paid the day after the party.
So very, very irritated.
I think it would be better if I got paid every two weeks.
I can make a fiver last a while, but when I have a big chunk of money it goes in minutes.
Which sucks.
I am so, SO bad at money.
Very bad. VERY bad.
It would be a lot better for me to just get someone else to give me a daily allowance on all my moneys.
Then, I might not plan on going and getting more holes stuck in my ears and buying train tickets the second I get any money in.
25 minutes left of this free.
I am definitely not allowed to come back on Blogger after my mid-morning break.
I have an essay and coursework and so many other constructive things to be doing.
And yet, I will probably be back on here finding pictures of crochet top hats.
Or better.
Sold.
I am going to look SO good on Friday.
Get a giant feather.
Got distracted by crochet patterns now...
This is genius.
Not crochet, but genius.
http://www.craftster.org/forum/index.php?topic=388327.0
Oooooooooh, I want.
I particularly want the green ones.
Right, I'm leaving. If there are any more blog posts after this yell at me, I HAVE to do work.
Also yell at me if I don't show you my top hat in progress.
LOVES. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Saturday, April 21, 2012
"Further Adventures Into Adulthood" and "WTF HAVE THEY DONE WITH BLOGGER??"
I will start with the blog, because I am quite angry.
Sure, they were warning me for AGES about how they were changing it and how I should be prepared.
That does not mean I like what they've done the place.
It looks scienctific.
I am not very good with scientific.
It's why my cooking always has "home-style" in front of it.
Once, a few years ago when I was ill, I was confined to the sofabed in the living room and I had Dave on.
I could not reach the remote.
So I watched whatever the hell came on and swore a lot everytime Top Gear reared it's ugly head.
Anyway, there was this nice chef programme that I have since forgotten the name of with a fella whose name also escapes me.
He made gnocchi, which for the uninitiated is essentially gooey, doughy pasta in a lump.
And he said he was making home-style gnocchi.
He explained to me, alone and adrift upon my sofabed, that there was not a special technique for making home-style, but that it was instead the abscene of any technique or finesse that made it so.
I took this very much to heart.
Excellent bloke.
Possibly Kevin.
Back later, dins. xx
Sure, they were warning me for AGES about how they were changing it and how I should be prepared.
That does not mean I like what they've done the place.
It looks scienctific.
I am not very good with scientific.
It's why my cooking always has "home-style" in front of it.
Once, a few years ago when I was ill, I was confined to the sofabed in the living room and I had Dave on.
I could not reach the remote.
So I watched whatever the hell came on and swore a lot everytime Top Gear reared it's ugly head.
Anyway, there was this nice chef programme that I have since forgotten the name of with a fella whose name also escapes me.
He made gnocchi, which for the uninitiated is essentially gooey, doughy pasta in a lump.
And he said he was making home-style gnocchi.
He explained to me, alone and adrift upon my sofabed, that there was not a special technique for making home-style, but that it was instead the abscene of any technique or finesse that made it so.
I took this very much to heart.
Excellent bloke.
Possibly Kevin.
Back later, dins. xx
Thursday, April 19, 2012
I Do Not Have The Energy...
To be having a moral confusion.
It's just not possible for me right now. I am going to leave it to everyone else and let THEM deal with it because it is so fucking hard to not say I told you so right now it's insane.
I might log on to Pinterest and post you pretty pictures that I find.
That's just upsetting.
Yeah, this is just going to be a tiny, teenage angst style post because there is so little I can be bothered with it's insane and my hands hurts and I CANNOT BE ARSED WITH ANYTHING.
I'm going to Google crochet patterns
I need to watch Mulan again. I totally gave up on crochet.
Fuck this shit. i'm out.
It's just not possible for me right now. I am going to leave it to everyone else and let THEM deal with it because it is so fucking hard to not say I told you so right now it's insane.
I might log on to Pinterest and post you pretty pictures that I find.
Yeah, this is just going to be a tiny, teenage angst style post because there is so little I can be bothered with it's insane and my hands hurts and I CANNOT BE ARSED WITH ANYTHING.
I'm going to Google crochet patterns
I need to watch Mulan again. I totally gave up on crochet.
Fuck this shit. i'm out.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
A Response
After my last posting, Ellie decided to reply to said post with a decidedly cocky retort.
That's definitely cocky.
And also wrong.
If you Google "Prince Phillip", and click the Wikipedia link, it explains to the world the titles bestowed upon said royal.
For those who cannot read it (it might be too small, I dunno) that top bit says:
Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (born Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark 10 June 1921) is the husband of Elizabeth II. He is the United Kingdom's longest-serving consort and the oldest serving spouse of a reigning British monarch.
I would say that THAT RIGHT THERE says he's a prince.
Now I realise that Wikipedia is not necessarily a reputable source.
Therefore.
Now, that's DEFINITELY not going to be readable, and therefore I shall again copy and paste and even provide you with a link.
Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth and Baron Greenwich, was born Prince of Greece and Denmark in Corfu on 10 June 1921.
So yes.
What's that now?
Oh, I believe that's two-nil.
-gracious bow, followed by exit-
And also wrong.
If you Google "Prince Phillip", and click the Wikipedia link, it explains to the world the titles bestowed upon said royal.
For those who cannot read it (it might be too small, I dunno) that top bit says:
Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (born Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark 10 June 1921) is the husband of Elizabeth II. He is the United Kingdom's longest-serving consort and the oldest serving spouse of a reigning British monarch.
I would say that THAT RIGHT THERE says he's a prince.
Now I realise that Wikipedia is not necessarily a reputable source.
Therefore.
Now, that's DEFINITELY not going to be readable, and therefore I shall again copy and paste and even provide you with a link.
Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Merioneth and Baron Greenwich, was born Prince of Greece and Denmark in Corfu on 10 June 1921.
So yes.
What's that now?
Oh, I believe that's two-nil.
-gracious bow, followed by exit-
Thursday, March 29, 2012
A Short, But Hilarious, Blog Post
I just had this conversation (slightly condensed for easier understanding) with that nice man I keep kissing.
Me: I want this http://wedinator.icanhascheezburger.com/2012/03/25/funny-wedding-photos-special-guests/
Ellie: that Queen thing is amazing and adorable =L
Me: I KNOW :D Can we hAS?
Ellie: we can has. if, when we marry, king phillip likes metal
Me: PRINCE Phillip
Ellie: he'll be king then
Me: ... No he won't. Why would he be king then? You reasoning behind this is required.
Ellie: queen dies, her son takes over
Me: -facepalm- Phillip is her husband.
Ellie: her son is....
Me: Charles.
Ellie: charsles shit. =L
Me: I fucking love you.
Ellie: well, it aint my fam =P
I feel the need to make an informative post on such a subject.
Lesson concluded.
Me: I want this http://wedinator.icanhascheezburger.com/2012/03/25/funny-wedding-photos-special-guests/
Ellie: that Queen thing is amazing and adorable =L
Me: I KNOW :D Can we hAS?
Ellie: we can has. if, when we marry, king phillip likes metal
Me: PRINCE Phillip
Ellie: he'll be king then
Me: ... No he won't. Why would he be king then? You reasoning behind this is required.
Ellie: queen dies, her son takes over
Me: -facepalm- Phillip is her husband.
Ellie: her son is....
Me: Charles.
Ellie: charsles shit. =L
Me: I fucking love you.
Ellie: well, it aint my fam =P
I feel the need to make an informative post on such a subject.
 |
| Charles |
 |
| Phillip |
 |
| Queen's Son |
 |
| Queen's Husband |
 |
| Future King |
 |
| WILL NEVER BE KING (Probably also doesn't like metal) |
Monday, March 26, 2012
LOUD??
This is going to be partly in response to Carl, and partly in response to how I now have a job.
Beginning with Carl.
I am apparently not allowed to wear "loud" clothes to his engagement party.
LOUD CLOTHES?
What, am I supposed to go naked??
Now, I realise that this is so that I don't frighten his fianceé and instead get along with her.
However.
My brain seems to have taken this as a challenge and I am considering going all out and wearing something rainbow.
Properly rainbow.
Don't let me dress loudly, indeed.
I shall wear what I want!
And quite frankly, anyone who doesn't like it can go to hell.
I will either dress with as many colours as I possibly can, covered in jewellry and whatever else including my grannie-on-crack shawl
OR
Go as a mime.
I said this to Sarah, and she is unimpressed and SUCKING THE FUN OUT OF EVERYTHING.
Beginning with Carl.
I am apparently not allowed to wear "loud" clothes to his engagement party.
LOUD CLOTHES?
What, am I supposed to go naked??
Now, I realise that this is so that I don't frighten his fianceé and instead get along with her.
However.
My brain seems to have taken this as a challenge and I am considering going all out and wearing something rainbow.
Properly rainbow.
Don't let me dress loudly, indeed.
I shall wear what I want!
And quite frankly, anyone who doesn't like it can go to hell.
I will either dress with as many colours as I possibly can, covered in jewellry and whatever else including my grannie-on-crack shawl
OR
Go as a mime.
I said this to Sarah, and she is unimpressed and SUCKING THE FUN OUT OF EVERYTHING.
Maddy: I'm writing a blog about how I have taken "don't dress loudly" as a challenge.
Maddy: That I am either going to wear as many colours as possible or go as a mime.
Maddy: Mimes are very dignified. NO. NEVERRRRRRRRR
Friday, March 16, 2012
I Don't Have Any Impending Work To Do
And so I'm totally going to write you a blog post and relax a little bit.
And maybe sort some stuff out in my head.
It's been a bit of a hectic week, faithful bloggees. Not in that I've had a shitload of stuff to do, it's just that an awful lot has changed.
I don't think I'm going to university next year, for starters.
I might not be an author.
With turning 18, I have actually lost more control over my life than ever before.
I feel the need to do something rebellious, such as get more piercings or, even better, a tattoo.
It's got to the stage where I essentially have no idea what to do with my life. This stage has then evolved to the point where I have made a spider diagram entitled "WTF do I do with my life??"
No joke.
This has stemmed from me realising that I don't even LIKE English Literature. I just like creative writing. So why in the name of all that is frabjous am I down to do it at degree level??
Wtf am I doing?
To be fair, this realisation has come within the last week, which is why I am down to do it.
Had I realised this in September last year, everything would be fine.
So I'm pretty honestly not going to do any of the choices I have put down for.
So yeah.
What the hell to do now?
There's an open uni degree that's something along the lines of a BA Hons in Humanities with Creative Writing (or some other fancy title to that effect) that looks amazing. Properly, properly amazing.
My mother hates the idea.
But seeing as how she spent the last two days pretty much blanking me, I don't really give a crap what she thinks. I have emailed her to the effect of "I LOVE THIS COURSE" and texted her to find the email, which she ignored, and then when I brought it up she was overwhelmingly negative.
I therefore don't see why I should give a crap what she thinks anymore.
It was on HER advice that I consider not going English Literature, and it is not my problem if she doesn't like the alternative I've come up with.
Gah.
I might not do any writing at all.
I might open up a vintage teashop/bookshop/art gallery and serve people interesting tea and fancy cakes and sell them books and artwork instead of writing. If I do that, then I can definitely get other people to run it for me, just be the owner, have my own little table in the corner and sit there writing all day.
This seems like a wonderful, wonderful option.
The issue is getting the money to have such a venture, which I am unlikely to ever get if I don't do something in which money comes in.
There are several options for gaining money.
The lottery.
A job.
Sell a book.
Marry a rich man and use his money.
At the moment, considering I'm broke, don't play the lottery, don't have a job and don't have a completed book to get published, I'm pretty much looking at marrying a rich man.
All of this is deeply irritating.
I am getting ever more tempted by the idea of a tattoo.
This is stemming from my clearly being such a raging disappointment to my mother.
My friend Aaron (different Aaron to the one who follows this blog) once recommended to another old friend that if he was going to do something wrong, he might as well do it properly.
Which is decent advice in some respects.
I have never been a believer in fannying about.
It might not have been the best advice for a bloke who was planning on cheating on his girlfriend though.
We've never really forgiven Aaron for that one.
I wasn't even there and I'm still angry.
ANYWAY.
I figure that if I am already a disappointment to my mother, I might as well go the whole hog and get something permanently tattooed on.
And possibly a couple of piercings.
I have no idea how to tell you where I would have my piercing in the technical words (I just plan on pointing when I eventually get to a piercing parlour) but it's the curvy bit at the top of my ear.
Right at the top.
It's possibly a HELIX.
Hang on, I'll google it.
Helix, apparently.
But yeah, that bit.
Except not with a jewel in it. Probably just a ring through it.
And then get one of these tattooed somewhere that won't be visible when I wear normal clothes.
Like my thigh or something.
Not on my tummy. I too often wear tops that are too small and stretch upwards.
See, I think that would be really, really pretty.
I am already being met with opposition.
I'd just like to point out that I'M NEEDLE PHOBIC AND TEENAGE REBELLION IS TRANSIENT SO IT WILL PROBABLY NEVER HAPPEN AND IF YOU COULD STOP FREAKING OUT ABOUT IT THAT WOULD JUST BE FUCKING GREAT.
Okay, shouty over.
Knobends.
There is, apparently, very little opposition on the piercing front.
Although I'm apparently not allowed my lip done.
Whatever.
I'll take Katie and Hanna and go and get holes stabbed through me and hope I don't almost pass out this time.
I've actually started writing more than usual.
According to Ellie, it is because I've sucked his creative out, as he hasn't written anything in a while and I did 1000 words in half an hour the other day.
They weren't too horrible, either.
They were almost tolerable.
This is an improvement on any of the crap I've churned out trying to get my creative juices flowing in the last few months. I'd pretty much given up, but now I feel the urge again.
URGES.
URGES URGES URGES.
Inside joke.
I'm now trying to find a dress online that I saw in Underground yesterday and LOVE.
Except for the price tag.
I consider £54 to be excessive.
It's soooooooo pretty though.
Not easy to find.
If Hell Bunny had their own page, life would be a lot easier.
I figure that someone other than Underground must have it SOMEWHERE.
Underground should get their own website.
It's red, with white polka dots, and a big cut out heart over the boobs.
It HAS to be somewhere.
It exists, therefore it is on the interwebs.
Something like the 6th website now.
I've amazon-ed it.
Google was taking too long.
I think (think), if I get a job, I will be able to justify the purchase of my Hell Bunny.
I already consider it MY Hell Bunny.
Went throught the whole of amazon and got NOTHING.
Wtf?
IT IS EXACTLY THIS BUT IN RED
http://www.sinderellas-shrine.co.uk/hell-bunny-sweetheart-polka-dot-50s-dress-487-p.asp
Now I'm excited.
THIS DRESS
THIS ONE
http://www.attitudeclothing.co.uk/product_22601-68-1061_Hell-Bunny---Sweetheart-Dress-%28Red-White%29.htm
And so much fucking cheaper than Underground were telling me they were doing it.
OMG OMG OMG
Except it's out of stock.
Bastards.
I FOUND IT
ON EBAY
I don't care if it is eBay, I got my prom dress from eBay. EBay is good enough for MOI.
If I wasn't in the library, I would do a happy dance.
I'm now going to spam my own blog with links to this dress, because I am too damn happy to care what you lot think. <3
http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/HELL-BUNNY-SWEETHEART-VTG-50S-RED-POLKA-DOT-DRESS-/230739052192?pt=UK_Women_s_Dresses&var=&hash=item7b6910bdee
http://sirensandstarlets.co.uk/hb-4019-whtred-hell-bunny-sweetheart-vtg-50s-red-polka-dot-dress.html
I am going to seriously consider wearing this to Carl and Leanne's engagement thingummy.
ELLIE, I KNOW THE DATE NOW AND YOU SHOULD GET ME TO ASK SARAH AGAIN LATER BECAUSE I'VE FORGOTTEN IN THE HOUR SINCE SHE TOLD ME.
Or.
SARAH WHEN WAS IT AGAIN?
Or.
CARLLLLLLLL, WHEN IS YOUR THING???
That should do it.
I could wear my stripper shoes.
I like how that doesn't give anyone a definition because I have too many pairs of stripper shoes for that to apply to only one pair.
My red ones.
And now I have the money because my cheques went through.
So.
The plan.
Take a patient friend/boyfriend/musketeer to town.
Try on The Dress to get accurate sizing.
Put it back on the shelf if it's still £54. (£54??? How much are they getting off this if the price increase is something like £24???)
Buy it if it's £27.99 like on the interwebs.
Buy it online later.
Wear my Hell Bunny to death.
Job done.
I'm going to look hot in that.
Hot hot hot.
Hotter than hot.
I'll stop now.
Stupidly excited about it being £28ish online.
See, I am now going through the Starlets and Sirens page and looking at the clothes that I am going to wear all the time when I am a growed up.
I feel like I shall wear nothing but (stretchy) pencil skirts and circle skirts and skirts, actually, because I really don't mind never wearing trousers.
I will need a lot of tights.
But it's okay, because I can buy tights.
And boots.
Fur-lined boots.
FAKE fur-lined boots.
Yeah.
I'm in a happy little fantasy world now, to be honest, the blog may not be particularly coherent from here-on-in.
What do you need to start a tea shop anyway? Tea, obviously. Cake and stuff. Tables. I'm thinking that I'm just going to get a load of mismatched tables and chairs, mismatched china and stuff.
There will be STUFF everywhere.
Like walls filled with paintings that could be done by people I know or people I really like and other people could buy them.
And one wall filled top to toe with bookcases filled with first editions and new books and ALL the books ever.
And some Dita Von Teese, because she makes everything awesome.
Fuck it, she can have free tea as often as she wants.
I presume you also need money.
I'll get some of that eventually.
I think for the last twenty minutes of this lesson, I will go buy a tea from the café and drink it with my book.
What am I reading at the moment?
So far, it's quite good.
I have seen it on the telly, with that nice (and attractive, apart from the no-eyebrows thing) Matt Smith.
And now I shall read it, having had it since Christmas.
I love ALL of you.
<3 XXXXXXXXXXXXX
And maybe sort some stuff out in my head.
It's been a bit of a hectic week, faithful bloggees. Not in that I've had a shitload of stuff to do, it's just that an awful lot has changed.
I don't think I'm going to university next year, for starters.
I might not be an author.
With turning 18, I have actually lost more control over my life than ever before.
I feel the need to do something rebellious, such as get more piercings or, even better, a tattoo.
It's got to the stage where I essentially have no idea what to do with my life. This stage has then evolved to the point where I have made a spider diagram entitled "WTF do I do with my life??"
No joke.
This has stemmed from me realising that I don't even LIKE English Literature. I just like creative writing. So why in the name of all that is frabjous am I down to do it at degree level??
Wtf am I doing?
To be fair, this realisation has come within the last week, which is why I am down to do it.
Had I realised this in September last year, everything would be fine.
So I'm pretty honestly not going to do any of the choices I have put down for.
So yeah.
What the hell to do now?
There's an open uni degree that's something along the lines of a BA Hons in Humanities with Creative Writing (or some other fancy title to that effect) that looks amazing. Properly, properly amazing.
My mother hates the idea.
But seeing as how she spent the last two days pretty much blanking me, I don't really give a crap what she thinks. I have emailed her to the effect of "I LOVE THIS COURSE" and texted her to find the email, which she ignored, and then when I brought it up she was overwhelmingly negative.
I therefore don't see why I should give a crap what she thinks anymore.
It was on HER advice that I consider not going English Literature, and it is not my problem if she doesn't like the alternative I've come up with.
Gah.
I might not do any writing at all.
I might open up a vintage teashop/bookshop/art gallery and serve people interesting tea and fancy cakes and sell them books and artwork instead of writing. If I do that, then I can definitely get other people to run it for me, just be the owner, have my own little table in the corner and sit there writing all day.
This seems like a wonderful, wonderful option.
The issue is getting the money to have such a venture, which I am unlikely to ever get if I don't do something in which money comes in.
There are several options for gaining money.
The lottery.
A job.
Sell a book.
Marry a rich man and use his money.
At the moment, considering I'm broke, don't play the lottery, don't have a job and don't have a completed book to get published, I'm pretty much looking at marrying a rich man.
All of this is deeply irritating.
I am getting ever more tempted by the idea of a tattoo.
This is stemming from my clearly being such a raging disappointment to my mother.
My friend Aaron (different Aaron to the one who follows this blog) once recommended to another old friend that if he was going to do something wrong, he might as well do it properly.
Which is decent advice in some respects.
I have never been a believer in fannying about.
It might not have been the best advice for a bloke who was planning on cheating on his girlfriend though.
We've never really forgiven Aaron for that one.
I wasn't even there and I'm still angry.
ANYWAY.
I figure that if I am already a disappointment to my mother, I might as well go the whole hog and get something permanently tattooed on.
And possibly a couple of piercings.
I have no idea how to tell you where I would have my piercing in the technical words (I just plan on pointing when I eventually get to a piercing parlour) but it's the curvy bit at the top of my ear.
Right at the top.
It's possibly a HELIX.
Hang on, I'll google it.
But yeah, that bit.
Except not with a jewel in it. Probably just a ring through it.
And then get one of these tattooed somewhere that won't be visible when I wear normal clothes.
Like my thigh or something.
Not on my tummy. I too often wear tops that are too small and stretch upwards.
See, I think that would be really, really pretty.
I am already being met with opposition.
I'd just like to point out that I'M NEEDLE PHOBIC AND TEENAGE REBELLION IS TRANSIENT SO IT WILL PROBABLY NEVER HAPPEN AND IF YOU COULD STOP FREAKING OUT ABOUT IT THAT WOULD JUST BE FUCKING GREAT.
Okay, shouty over.
Knobends.
There is, apparently, very little opposition on the piercing front.
Although I'm apparently not allowed my lip done.
Whatever.
I'll take Katie and Hanna and go and get holes stabbed through me and hope I don't almost pass out this time.
I've actually started writing more than usual.
According to Ellie, it is because I've sucked his creative out, as he hasn't written anything in a while and I did 1000 words in half an hour the other day.
They weren't too horrible, either.
They were almost tolerable.
This is an improvement on any of the crap I've churned out trying to get my creative juices flowing in the last few months. I'd pretty much given up, but now I feel the urge again.
URGES.
URGES URGES URGES.
Inside joke.
I'm now trying to find a dress online that I saw in Underground yesterday and LOVE.
Except for the price tag.
I consider £54 to be excessive.
It's soooooooo pretty though.
Not easy to find.
If Hell Bunny had their own page, life would be a lot easier.
I figure that someone other than Underground must have it SOMEWHERE.
Underground should get their own website.
It's red, with white polka dots, and a big cut out heart over the boobs.
It HAS to be somewhere.
It exists, therefore it is on the interwebs.
Something like the 6th website now.
I've amazon-ed it.
Google was taking too long.
I think (think), if I get a job, I will be able to justify the purchase of my Hell Bunny.
I already consider it MY Hell Bunny.
Went throught the whole of amazon and got NOTHING.
Wtf?
IT IS EXACTLY THIS BUT IN RED
http://www.sinderellas-shrine.co.uk/hell-bunny-sweetheart-polka-dot-50s-dress-487-p.asp
Now I'm excited.
THIS DRESS
THIS ONE
http://www.attitudeclothing.co.uk/product_22601-68-1061_Hell-Bunny---Sweetheart-Dress-%28Red-White%29.htm
And so much fucking cheaper than Underground were telling me they were doing it.
OMG OMG OMG
Except it's out of stock.
Bastards.
I FOUND IT
ON EBAY
I don't care if it is eBay, I got my prom dress from eBay. EBay is good enough for MOI.
If I wasn't in the library, I would do a happy dance.
I'm now going to spam my own blog with links to this dress, because I am too damn happy to care what you lot think. <3
http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/HELL-BUNNY-SWEETHEART-VTG-50S-RED-POLKA-DOT-DRESS-/230739052192?pt=UK_Women_s_Dresses&var=&hash=item7b6910bdee
http://sirensandstarlets.co.uk/hb-4019-whtred-hell-bunny-sweetheart-vtg-50s-red-polka-dot-dress.html
I am going to seriously consider wearing this to Carl and Leanne's engagement thingummy.
ELLIE, I KNOW THE DATE NOW AND YOU SHOULD GET ME TO ASK SARAH AGAIN LATER BECAUSE I'VE FORGOTTEN IN THE HOUR SINCE SHE TOLD ME.
Or.
SARAH WHEN WAS IT AGAIN?
Or.
CARLLLLLLLL, WHEN IS YOUR THING???
That should do it.
I could wear my stripper shoes.
I like how that doesn't give anyone a definition because I have too many pairs of stripper shoes for that to apply to only one pair.
My red ones.
And now I have the money because my cheques went through.
So.
The plan.
Take a patient friend/boyfriend/musketeer to town.
Try on The Dress to get accurate sizing.
Put it back on the shelf if it's still £54. (£54??? How much are they getting off this if the price increase is something like £24???)
Buy it if it's £27.99 like on the interwebs.
Buy it online later.
Wear my Hell Bunny to death.
Job done.
I'm going to look hot in that.
Hot hot hot.
Hotter than hot.
I'll stop now.
Stupidly excited about it being £28ish online.
See, I am now going through the Starlets and Sirens page and looking at the clothes that I am going to wear all the time when I am a growed up.
I feel like I shall wear nothing but (stretchy) pencil skirts and circle skirts and skirts, actually, because I really don't mind never wearing trousers.
I will need a lot of tights.
But it's okay, because I can buy tights.
And boots.
Fur-lined boots.
FAKE fur-lined boots.
Yeah.
I'm in a happy little fantasy world now, to be honest, the blog may not be particularly coherent from here-on-in.
What do you need to start a tea shop anyway? Tea, obviously. Cake and stuff. Tables. I'm thinking that I'm just going to get a load of mismatched tables and chairs, mismatched china and stuff.
There will be STUFF everywhere.
Like walls filled with paintings that could be done by people I know or people I really like and other people could buy them.
And one wall filled top to toe with bookcases filled with first editions and new books and ALL the books ever.
And some Dita Von Teese, because she makes everything awesome.
Fuck it, she can have free tea as often as she wants.
I presume you also need money.
I'll get some of that eventually.
I think for the last twenty minutes of this lesson, I will go buy a tea from the café and drink it with my book.
What am I reading at the moment?
I have seen it on the telly, with that nice (and attractive, apart from the no-eyebrows thing) Matt Smith.
And now I shall read it, having had it since Christmas.
I love ALL of you.
<3 XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
This Isn't A Proper Blog Post
I am totally doing work, I have just had a pretty fucking awesome idea for the book I'm writing, and I do NOT want to forget it.
HAVE IT FALL INTO THE SEA, MADELEINE. THE BIG PLACE OF ALL EVIL. INTO THE OCEAN WITH A VERY BIG SPLASH.
You should also put more consideration into an open uni degree and less into scrounging off Elliot til you die.
Good girl.
I hope you lot are ignoring this.
HAVE IT FALL INTO THE SEA, MADELEINE. THE BIG PLACE OF ALL EVIL. INTO THE OCEAN WITH A VERY BIG SPLASH.
You should also put more consideration into an open uni degree and less into scrounging off Elliot til you die.
Good girl.
I hope you lot are ignoring this.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Wittering. Again. You Know, To Go Along With What It Says On The Tin.
As I said, I have a blog app now. Not one that you can download (Probably. I dunno. Ask Carl.) but it is still largely exciting.
Hence why I am now posting pictures in a slightly giddy fashion.
I think you'll agree that that is BEYOND exciting.
I've sort of been distracted from blog writing by Sarah (that bitch) who is discussing with me Carl's wedding, and has therefore sent me pictures of what she intends to wear.
This bearing in mind that they're not getting married for at least a year yet, and yet we already have outfits planned.
Needless to say, we have sheltered and boring lives.
I am planning on clashing as much as possible, giving the union jack shoes and the electric blue dress an airing, plus a bright red jacket and something outlandish on my head.
You know, as you do.
Sarah was planning on something gothy, as SHE does.
She looks quite good in gothy stuff.
When I say quite, I mean that she looks HOT in gothy stuff, but I'm really supposed to be toning down the lesbianism at the moment.
She therefore linked me to a dress, which she will look awesome in. (Toning down from NOW.)
I have, therefore, been distracted by the fact that they have rockabilly dresses, which are my eternal calling, and also attempting to find something outlandish to wear on my head for such a wedding.
This is mostly limited to Etsy, as John Lewis, being the only other place they really do well made fascinators, don't really cater for eccentricity.
Which I have by the bucket load.
They also don't seem to understand that red and electric blue look HOT together.
They do.
Really.
Something like a blue one of these.
Have now pointed out to Sarah that buying £75 shoes (!!!!) online is ridiculous.
She agrees, praise be.
I am now essentially surfing the net trying to find her similar shoes, cheaper and in a shop where she can go try them on.
I figured it would be easier, thereby jinxing it, ofc.
I FOUND ONES SHE LIKED.
Get in.
We are discussing whether or not the shoes are wedding appropriate.
The decision: We don't really give two shits.
Wedding etiquette is for boring people.
And anyway, it's not like we're turning up in white.
Just, ya know, all the other colours.
Still trying to find her the perfect shoes.
I keep forgetting she can handle her heels better than me, and so keep looking at slightly lower heels.
She's gone.
Bored now.
May spam Carl with texts til I'm bored.
I think I hate ankle strap shoes on everyone.
I do not see the point in them.
You can just have a nice strap over the top of your foot instead.
They just make calves look FAT.
FAT FAT CALVES.
I don't honestly understand what WOULDN'T be wedding appropriate, providing it's fancy?
This may come from my brother going wearing sandals and the like, but seriously.
Just because the shoes have skulls on them.
It could be worse.
It's not a meat dress or anything.
And yeah, white is a bit weird, but only if you're wearing a maxi dress or something.
I AM GETTING A PICTURE MESSAGE :O
IT'S FROM CARL :O
IT'S MY FAVOURITE MEME :D
Later, I will upload it.
New Look now do Iron Fist shoes.
Slightly upsetting, due to the fact that now the chavs will wear them.
We are far from hipsters, Sarah and I, but we don't need our weird shoes legitimised by the orange beasts.
I'm tempted to make a post dedicated to the people I talk about in the blogs. Just for pictures and such. It's nice to put names to faces and faces to names.
Tempting.
For the reference of this post, these are Carl and Sarah. (The pictures are basically just stolen from their Facebooks, so they aren't allowed to get pissy because the photos are ALREADY ON THE INTERNET.)
The captions were in case it wasn't already obvious.
Might have chopped Carl's up a bit, if only because there was a lot of background and it will make the screen go all wide after I post this, and there is nothing more irritating than an unnecessarily wide webpage.
I do not understand clothes with cut out bits.
What the hell is the point?
At a recent party, there was a girl wearing a dress with cut outs.
She was skinny, and the cut outs were at her middle.
Due to the fact that she had no hips, the dress spent the night sliding down past her knicker line.
For me, this was HILARIOUS.
For her, quite embarrassing.
Have I mentioned she was 14?
She was 14.
Anyway, cut outs.
Not exactly going to keep you warm.
And so SO inappropriate on a 14 year old.
I think I'm okay with cut out backs.
And possibly cut out fronts.
It's just in the middle that upsets.
I realise now that I am my mother.
Goodnight.
Hence why I am now posting pictures in a slightly giddy fashion.
I've sort of been distracted from blog writing by Sarah (that bitch) who is discussing with me Carl's wedding, and has therefore sent me pictures of what she intends to wear.
This bearing in mind that they're not getting married for at least a year yet, and yet we already have outfits planned.
Needless to say, we have sheltered and boring lives.
I am planning on clashing as much as possible, giving the union jack shoes and the electric blue dress an airing, plus a bright red jacket and something outlandish on my head.
You know, as you do.
Sarah was planning on something gothy, as SHE does.
She looks quite good in gothy stuff.
When I say quite, I mean that she looks HOT in gothy stuff, but I'm really supposed to be toning down the lesbianism at the moment.
She therefore linked me to a dress, which she will look awesome in. (Toning down from NOW.)
I have, therefore, been distracted by the fact that they have rockabilly dresses, which are my eternal calling, and also attempting to find something outlandish to wear on my head for such a wedding.
This is mostly limited to Etsy, as John Lewis, being the only other place they really do well made fascinators, don't really cater for eccentricity.
Which I have by the bucket load.
They also don't seem to understand that red and electric blue look HOT together.
They do.
Really.
Something like a blue one of these.
Have now pointed out to Sarah that buying £75 shoes (!!!!) online is ridiculous.
She agrees, praise be.
I am now essentially surfing the net trying to find her similar shoes, cheaper and in a shop where she can go try them on.
I figured it would be easier, thereby jinxing it, ofc.
I FOUND ONES SHE LIKED.
Get in.
We are discussing whether or not the shoes are wedding appropriate.
The decision: We don't really give two shits.
Wedding etiquette is for boring people.
And anyway, it's not like we're turning up in white.
Just, ya know, all the other colours.
Still trying to find her the perfect shoes.
I keep forgetting she can handle her heels better than me, and so keep looking at slightly lower heels.
She's gone.
Bored now.
May spam Carl with texts til I'm bored.
I think I hate ankle strap shoes on everyone.
I do not see the point in them.
You can just have a nice strap over the top of your foot instead.
They just make calves look FAT.
FAT FAT CALVES.
I don't honestly understand what WOULDN'T be wedding appropriate, providing it's fancy?
This may come from my brother going wearing sandals and the like, but seriously.
Just because the shoes have skulls on them.
It could be worse.
It's not a meat dress or anything.
And yeah, white is a bit weird, but only if you're wearing a maxi dress or something.
I AM GETTING A PICTURE MESSAGE :O
IT'S FROM CARL :O
IT'S MY FAVOURITE MEME :D
Later, I will upload it.
New Look now do Iron Fist shoes.
Slightly upsetting, due to the fact that now the chavs will wear them.
We are far from hipsters, Sarah and I, but we don't need our weird shoes legitimised by the orange beasts.
I'm tempted to make a post dedicated to the people I talk about in the blogs. Just for pictures and such. It's nice to put names to faces and faces to names.
Tempting.
For the reference of this post, these are Carl and Sarah. (The pictures are basically just stolen from their Facebooks, so they aren't allowed to get pissy because the photos are ALREADY ON THE INTERNET.)
 |
| Carl |
 |
| Sarah |
Might have chopped Carl's up a bit, if only because there was a lot of background and it will make the screen go all wide after I post this, and there is nothing more irritating than an unnecessarily wide webpage.
I do not understand clothes with cut out bits.
What the hell is the point?
At a recent party, there was a girl wearing a dress with cut outs.
She was skinny, and the cut outs were at her middle.
Due to the fact that she had no hips, the dress spent the night sliding down past her knicker line.
For me, this was HILARIOUS.
For her, quite embarrassing.
Have I mentioned she was 14?
She was 14.
Anyway, cut outs.
Not exactly going to keep you warm.
And so SO inappropriate on a 14 year old.
I think I'm okay with cut out backs.
And possibly cut out fronts.
It's just in the middle that upsets.
I realise now that I am my mother.
Goodnight.
Friday, March 2, 2012
I Have Lost My Memory Stick
Which is so far beyond irritating it is ludicrous. And I can't really leave to go find it.
I am therefore going to sit here and write a blog because fuck it, I've been getting into the habit of doing blogs and I see no reason to stop now.
MY BLOG HAS AN APP.
There is literally an app for everything now.
It's not a proper, official app, I don't think, but nice Carl has made my blog into an app on his fancy phone and there's a photo on Facebook but the college computers have it blocked still.
Well, unless I want to download Firefox or Chrome and use that instead.
I think it says a lot about my college that we are still stuck with Internet Explorer.
I'm really quite fond of my Firefox. It has a nice koi pattern on it and lots of saved tabs that involve Facebook and Twitter.
Firefox also lets you have an internet history.
For no apparent good reason, the college computers do not save your internet history. NONE of it.
It lets you click the back button as many times as you want, but if you shut the tab you're buggered.
I have taken once more to wearing sunglasses in an attempt to make the sunshine come out.
They are currently perched atop my head and snuggled into the ginge.
I think (think) that they are black with yellow and green flowers and a little bit Raybans style. The best thing about them of all, however, is that they did not cost me, as Raybans do, £102. They cost me a quid from Primark. And this makes me a very happy bunny.
I just Googled "happy bunny" to find you a good picture of a happy bunny, and it came up with stuff like this.
I feel this should be a mantra for life.
It is much like the list myself and Sarah have come up with for the day of the revolution, when we take over and shoot all those who have pissed us off.
Most of our exes are on that list. Apart from Mitch, who's a bit harmless.
Apart from that, it consists of my maternal grandmother, Dakota Fanning, and the vast majority of Bitterne Park School.
People this does not include:
Stuff like being a prefect, chairs being chucked across the room in maths and that one assembly where the headteacher essentially blamed us for the murder of Rhys Jones back in about 2007.
I'll write more on that in a minute. I opened the Happy Bunny website in a new tab, and there are e-cards.
:D
Stuff like "roses are red, violets are blue, your butt's funny looking, but I think you'll do"
Totally sending these.
It is definitely a little sad that I just spent ten minutes of my life sending slightly abusive e-cards to people.
Anyway, my school was very very shit, and I am therefore going to cheer myself up by looking up crochet patterns and posting amusing pictures of happy bunnies.
I am now just posting pictures that make me happy. And shall continue until I am in a state of pictoral bliss.
I may have a bit of a girl crush on Sophia Myles. Perhaps now a selections of photos of women I have girl crushes on.
But also
I'm not entirely sure which interpretation of the woman I love most.
Thinking of girl crushes under the pressure of blog writing makes it a lot more difficult. It is slowly going to turn into a list of women I would cheerfully bang.
Such as
Back more to women I admire or have girl crushes on.
But also just
OH OH OH LIBRARIES
And car boot sales
And best of all, vintage fairs.
I feel like I should probably leave you alone now and go scavenge some foods from somewhere. I have, once again, forgotten everything except the stuff necessary for my lessons. I therefore have no lunch and I'm starting to wonder about my keys.
Anyone, love to everyone :)
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
I am therefore going to sit here and write a blog because fuck it, I've been getting into the habit of doing blogs and I see no reason to stop now.
MY BLOG HAS AN APP.
There is literally an app for everything now.
It's not a proper, official app, I don't think, but nice Carl has made my blog into an app on his fancy phone and there's a photo on Facebook but the college computers have it blocked still.
Well, unless I want to download Firefox or Chrome and use that instead.
I think it says a lot about my college that we are still stuck with Internet Explorer.
I'm really quite fond of my Firefox. It has a nice koi pattern on it and lots of saved tabs that involve Facebook and Twitter.
Firefox also lets you have an internet history.
For no apparent good reason, the college computers do not save your internet history. NONE of it.
It lets you click the back button as many times as you want, but if you shut the tab you're buggered.
I have taken once more to wearing sunglasses in an attempt to make the sunshine come out.
They are currently perched atop my head and snuggled into the ginge.
I think (think) that they are black with yellow and green flowers and a little bit Raybans style. The best thing about them of all, however, is that they did not cost me, as Raybans do, £102. They cost me a quid from Primark. And this makes me a very happy bunny.
I just Googled "happy bunny" to find you a good picture of a happy bunny, and it came up with stuff like this.
It is much like the list myself and Sarah have come up with for the day of the revolution, when we take over and shoot all those who have pissed us off.
Most of our exes are on that list. Apart from Mitch, who's a bit harmless.
Apart from that, it consists of my maternal grandmother, Dakota Fanning, and the vast majority of Bitterne Park School.
People this does not include:
- Aaron
- Sully
- Lula
- Skinner
- Ross
- Rosie
- Katie
- ... Uhm...
Stuff like being a prefect, chairs being chucked across the room in maths and that one assembly where the headteacher essentially blamed us for the murder of Rhys Jones back in about 2007.
I'll write more on that in a minute. I opened the Happy Bunny website in a new tab, and there are e-cards.
:D
Stuff like "roses are red, violets are blue, your butt's funny looking, but I think you'll do"
Totally sending these.
It is definitely a little sad that I just spent ten minutes of my life sending slightly abusive e-cards to people.
Anyway, my school was very very shit, and I am therefore going to cheer myself up by looking up crochet patterns and posting amusing pictures of happy bunnies.
 |
| Mary Elizabeth Winstead |
 |
| Christina Hendricks |
 |
| Caitlin Moran |
 |
| Helena Bonham Carter |
 |
| Gail Carriger |
 |
| Rachel McAdams as Irene Adler |
 |
| Lara Pulver as Irene Adler |
Thinking of girl crushes under the pressure of blog writing makes it a lot more difficult. It is slowly going to turn into a list of women I would cheerfully bang.
Such as
 |
| Florenc Welch |
 |
| Nerina Pallot |
 |
| Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing, played by Emma Thompson |
 |
| Emma Thompson |
 |
| Gemma Arterton |
Anyone, love to everyone :)
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)