So I’ve decided since school work is so utterly tedious instead I will throw away my education and take on the competitive world of full time blogging and start the strenuous process of becoming a mole woman. It sounds like a lonely life, but it's a life filled with munch, duvets and comedy central. So I’m content.
You're probably wondering how I can still find topics of conversation to fill up this blog. Well that's the beauty of being a pessimist, everything is wrong. And as you've probably noticed I ruddy well love to complain. If there was a complaining category in 2012 I’d be the new Paula fucking Radcliffe. I can complain about anything, from Apple Macs to the lack of meaningful words that begin with 'Z'. And on that note I’d like to start with; public transport.
So today I took a lovely journey to Shitechester, home of the very very brave. I hopped on a train with my NME and my Diet Coke fully prepared to shove on some Ed Sheeran and have a whale of a time. Then, some mental pensioner decides instead of the many available seats all around he will cram next to me and whip out a picnic. Now if watching an OAP erotically eating a banana didn't make for a soul crushing journey, then the three screaming toddlers who waddled on at one of the many Worthings definitely did. Now after a perfectly agreeable day in my mid-childhood home I get on yet another train full of the hope and optimism I am famous for. Half way in I start to think that maybe there's hope for Southern Rail yet when who should swagger into the seat next to me but, you've guessed it, the don of chav-city. The major of Pikey-ville. The ruler of all that is inbred. If I didn't guess by his attire the following behaviour definitely confirmed it;
Step 1. Lie across many seats in an unnecessary fashion.
Step 2. Choose a high-pitched remix of a trance track and blast it at full volume on your 'Nokia Music Phone'.
Step 3. Chew in an animated fashion and Shout to your friend who is also sprawled across the carriage.
Step 4. Get off at an appropriately grimy place, like Eastbourne.
Now normally I do not judge people by their appearance or before I know them, but he made it so darn easy I just had to.
One of the main reasons I took these treacherous journeys was to re-kindle with an old friend. And it got me thinking about awkwardness. Now today was not awkward in the slightest, there were no turtles in sight. The girl I met with happened to be a childhood best friend and when we see each other the conversation flows as easily as a drunken piss. But I do sometimes wonder how it is that with certain people who live completely separate lives to me banter can be so effortless, but there are people my age, with all my friends with who I struggle to string two words together. Is it chemistry? Are some people simply built to be friends? Is it in our DNA or is it about effort? It reminds me of when I was organising my birthday party I found myself inviting people simply for something to fill an awkward silence, and I couldn't imagine what I used to talk about before then. It's just completely impossible to find an interesting topic to land on with some people, but the very worst thing is when you settle for a completely inappropriate one. Like for instance I somehow always talk to my friend’s new partners about all the memories I have with the old couple, I’ll use sentences like 'Yeah when he was with her he used too...' or 'Well that is funny because he did that with her too ' I assure you it leads me straight into the war zone. Forget awkward turtles its awkward fucking nukes. The worst part is if the girl/boy get's really into the conversation and starts asking loads of ludicrous questions about the ex-partner at which point my soul cries a little and I fake a call.
Faking things is becoming too easy. Tans. Accents. Orgasms. It comes down to good acting. Or with a less PR friendly label, lying. If you're a good liar, you'll be a brilliant actor. And vice-versa. The human race loves to lie, we tell white lies, wicked lies, and more recently we just lie for the hell of it. I could start a massive rant about how lying makes Mother Teresa cry but really I couldn't care less. If you're going to lie to me I say fair play because I’ve probably already lied to you twice that day alone. I do try my hardest not to lie about anything important because that gets too complex. I've very recently half lost my job due to this. And to be honest I don't get a thrill from lying, but if you do then by all means tell me the biscuits are dark not milk chocolate. Have a cheeky wank to that feeling, and then tell the truth. Because isn't the big reveal the best part of lying? The prestige? Is that not the main point of it, that only you know the truth? That superior buzz? It’s the same thing about secrets; if someone tells you their secret then you can sit happily on your throne of knowledge and scoff at those who are unaware of this jewel of wisdom. That is the reason I rarely tell secrets. Well that, and of course being a good friend and having a conscious blah blah blah...
I'm trying to blog and listen to hip-hop, which never works because I start attempting to fit the words to the beat and use way too many commas. And my brother just gave me a Kinder Bueno which I will be shortly going to town on. So that's all for today folks, I hope you dream of decrepit men pleasuring fruit because I definitely will.
Wednesday 16 March 2011
Tuesday 15 March 2011
Never forget where you're coming from.
I know you were all waiting with bated breath over my four-day weekend but you can inhale deeply my loves. I am here. Now over my long absence I realised that I very rarely stick to anything I say I will, but I will try my very dandiest to stick to this, at least 5 times a week.
As a woman of a stern moral background I’d like to start by saying that I am uncomfortably aware of how dreadful the situation in Japan is, and how anything I say in this blog when compared with that will seem insensitive and cruel. Doing anything that isn’t a direct help to that great nation seems like a waste of energy. However we who are relatively distant from the horrible events must continue with life and not dwell on the situation. And on that note, I'd like to talk about; origins.
My followers and anyone who reads this pile of wank will know that my family is distantly Asian, my grandmother is Chinese. In fact my family can be somehow slot into most ethnicities and nationalities, in other words; my ancestors got around. Despite my exotic background I have never felt a particular strong urge to find out anything about it, I am from where I’ve been, where I’ve lived, and that's all that matters to me. But recently I’ve noticed that I have an abnormally large amount of Irish friends. Not just general Irish friends but friends from places like 'Cork' and 'Killarney'. Who knew such places existed? Let alone people actually went there? I thought when people went to Ireland they all just sat in Dublin with their nans and drank hard water tea. But apparently not. I'm not intending to be racist, in fact apparently I love the Irish as every friend I have is from there, but I just find it odd that people who originated from the same general country or place can have such different dialects and backgrounds. My mum for instants constantly fluctuates between what she believes to be ‘proper English’ and her heavy welsh accent.
Another thing my mum constantly does is forget about me. Last week I popped into a friend’s for a little chat and ended up staying till 10pm. I arrived home expecting to have to blurt out some sob story and instead discover that my sole carer thought I’d been upstairs since she returned at 3 and was just upset. Two things: 1. she’d put my dinner in the oven so I could eat it when I felt better. Meaning she hadn’t checked on me to ask. 2. When I actually am upset she’s Miss-fucking-attentive, she makes me answer a question a millisecond until I eventually die of breath-loss. My all time favourite mummery loss moment was when she forgot to leave a key out for me and my brand new friend. This girl had never been to my house before and I wanted to make a good impression, so I cleaned my room, left some food for us when we got home, fresh sheets, the whole shebang. My mum’s only job was to leave a key so that when we stumbled home at 4am we wouldn’t have to attempt a break in, pee in an alley, and eventually climb over a fence and break in the side door. Luckily we had potato smilies when we finally entered my abode so all was well. Once again I proved to be the semi-responsible being in our relationship.
Oh responsibilities. As I am growing ever older they are starting to mount upon me. I’ve never been the kind to face my responsibilities head on but instead trick them with many mirrors and costume changes. This has so far proved to be not a very useful tactic. I am always late, dead-lines, appointments, ofthepier. I am painfully lazy, I never do anything I don’t want or have to do. And I’m indecisive when it comes to insignificant decisions. Although these all might seem like terrible qualities when you really think about it I’m useful when it counts and I can be ace in a crisis. And that’s all that matters to me hence, because I’m selectively lazy as I said; I’ll leave it at that.
It’s easy to say don’t sweat the little things but we all do, and that won’t stop. Even with events all around us providing panorama we’re all still shamelessly self-involved. It’s not always a bad thing though, oh dear no. Selfless people get washed away by their own bottled up troubles where as selfish people are shallow, so they never drown. I’m not condoling egoistic behaviour in the slightest; I’m simply saying that you should take a little time for yourself and find a good balance in the battle of You vs. The World. I- for example, am not going to load the dishwasher and will instead watch crap TV and take a bubble bath. Because I feel I’ve been a little too benevolent today.
If you’re feeling liberal –
http://www.redcross.org.uk/japantsunami/?approachcode=68816_googlePAD5JpTs&gclid=CNeCntLO0acCFQoY4Qod40E5EA
As a woman of a stern moral background I’d like to start by saying that I am uncomfortably aware of how dreadful the situation in Japan is, and how anything I say in this blog when compared with that will seem insensitive and cruel. Doing anything that isn’t a direct help to that great nation seems like a waste of energy. However we who are relatively distant from the horrible events must continue with life and not dwell on the situation. And on that note, I'd like to talk about; origins.
My followers and anyone who reads this pile of wank will know that my family is distantly Asian, my grandmother is Chinese. In fact my family can be somehow slot into most ethnicities and nationalities, in other words; my ancestors got around. Despite my exotic background I have never felt a particular strong urge to find out anything about it, I am from where I’ve been, where I’ve lived, and that's all that matters to me. But recently I’ve noticed that I have an abnormally large amount of Irish friends. Not just general Irish friends but friends from places like 'Cork' and 'Killarney'. Who knew such places existed? Let alone people actually went there? I thought when people went to Ireland they all just sat in Dublin with their nans and drank hard water tea. But apparently not. I'm not intending to be racist, in fact apparently I love the Irish as every friend I have is from there, but I just find it odd that people who originated from the same general country or place can have such different dialects and backgrounds. My mum for instants constantly fluctuates between what she believes to be ‘proper English’ and her heavy welsh accent.
Another thing my mum constantly does is forget about me. Last week I popped into a friend’s for a little chat and ended up staying till 10pm. I arrived home expecting to have to blurt out some sob story and instead discover that my sole carer thought I’d been upstairs since she returned at 3 and was just upset. Two things: 1. she’d put my dinner in the oven so I could eat it when I felt better. Meaning she hadn’t checked on me to ask. 2. When I actually am upset she’s Miss-fucking-attentive, she makes me answer a question a millisecond until I eventually die of breath-loss. My all time favourite mummery loss moment was when she forgot to leave a key out for me and my brand new friend. This girl had never been to my house before and I wanted to make a good impression, so I cleaned my room, left some food for us when we got home, fresh sheets, the whole shebang. My mum’s only job was to leave a key so that when we stumbled home at 4am we wouldn’t have to attempt a break in, pee in an alley, and eventually climb over a fence and break in the side door. Luckily we had potato smilies when we finally entered my abode so all was well. Once again I proved to be the semi-responsible being in our relationship.
Oh responsibilities. As I am growing ever older they are starting to mount upon me. I’ve never been the kind to face my responsibilities head on but instead trick them with many mirrors and costume changes. This has so far proved to be not a very useful tactic. I am always late, dead-lines, appointments, ofthepier. I am painfully lazy, I never do anything I don’t want or have to do. And I’m indecisive when it comes to insignificant decisions. Although these all might seem like terrible qualities when you really think about it I’m useful when it counts and I can be ace in a crisis. And that’s all that matters to me hence, because I’m selectively lazy as I said; I’ll leave it at that.
It’s easy to say don’t sweat the little things but we all do, and that won’t stop. Even with events all around us providing panorama we’re all still shamelessly self-involved. It’s not always a bad thing though, oh dear no. Selfless people get washed away by their own bottled up troubles where as selfish people are shallow, so they never drown. I’m not condoling egoistic behaviour in the slightest; I’m simply saying that you should take a little time for yourself and find a good balance in the battle of You vs. The World. I- for example, am not going to load the dishwasher and will instead watch crap TV and take a bubble bath. Because I feel I’ve been a little too benevolent today.
If you’re feeling liberal –
http://www.redcross.org.uk/japantsunami/?approachcode=68816_googlePAD5JpTs&gclid=CNeCntLO0acCFQoY4Qod40E5EA
Thursday 10 March 2011
Never get crunk then pussy sail.
I would firstly like to thank my two followers. Although you are both following me out of obligation and pity it is still very much appreciated. It's bringing back memories of when my dad used to send me 'anonymous' valentine's day cards, I’d know it was from him so it'd never really give me that euphoric loved feeling, but it would make me smile. It sounds extremely pathetic but he hasn't done that since 2011 so it's okay.
Speaking of cards, letters and general vocabulary I would like to bring your attention to my first irritation of the day. The word 'fine'. Now this word has been a terminological thorn in my side for many a year now. It is the sort of nowhere word that shouldn't be used as a compliment, or ever particularly. If someone asks if they look alright and you say 'You look fine.' you've indirectly insulted them. They want to know they look above average, not subpar. Unless you put on a not very convincing stereotypically African-American accent and say 'You look fine, AS HELL GIRL.' I advise you to steer clear of that word altogether. The other thing that annoys me about this word is its mystery. If a friend says that they are 'fine' I automatically assume that they are in dire trouble. When did this happen? When did a word that allegedly means content become a social stress signal? The point is that everyone knows that's what it means. It's a vocabulary ninja. It means not what it's supposed to mean. If I’m feeling melancholy but not wanting to outright say that, I will say I’m fine. This statement will be followed by a long string of worried questions from my peers and I will be able to talk freely about my inferior and mediocre problems, 'since you asked...’
Another thing on my mind today is the legendary Charlie Sheen. Because let's be honest, who's mind isn't he on? And whose bed isn't he in? The man has become an overnight sensation and all because he's slightly off in the head, snorts anything crushable, and shags anything with a vague pulse. The point I’d like to draw upon is; Charlie Sheen has been this way possibly since Ferris Bueller took that day off. So why is he only getting major media attention now? Most people would say it's because he was released into the wild by the 'Two and a half men.' crew. I'd say it's the British tabloids. As soon as the born and bred publishing vultures caught sight of him the man was all over the front page faster than he could say 'Winning.'. But in all honesty he doesn't exactly make it easy for himself. If I was under supervision by police and paparazzi, my kids had been removed from my custody, and I was slowly becoming the next Chuck Norris I’d at least have the sense to lay low for a while and not to spew my cocaine-covered secrets to any reporter who almost glanced at me. I'm not really complaining however, the man gives me endless enjoyment.
A thing that provided me with little enjoyment today however; talent shows. Ever since the beginning of our schooling carers we've been told to excel in every way possible. To achieve highly. And breed our talents. But what is talent? Well according to that popular culture thing I keep bringing up, talent is the ability to either;
Sing,
Dance,
Act,
Or create a half decent sketch.
Now, being a mortal of very little talent I personally think this is an unfair judgment. I'd say my greatest talent is the ability to read people and assess social situations. However, would my year head see that trait as talent-show worthy? No. Personally even I wouldn't enjoy a five minute display of me evaluating the general 'auror' of a person or room and I doubt any sane person would. But why are these things not recognised as talents? What gives someone the right to say that is any less of a talent than being able to 'do the worm'. Okay so maybe my talent isn't quite the example I was looking for but it's a fair point. Sometimes the most amazing things are the most underrated.
Before I get too deep I have to point out that there are some super noodles in the microwave and they finished cooking 6 minutes ago and now they're cold and stale. I hope you're all happy. I'm going to eat them more than willingly anyway, fuck it.
Speaking of cards, letters and general vocabulary I would like to bring your attention to my first irritation of the day. The word 'fine'. Now this word has been a terminological thorn in my side for many a year now. It is the sort of nowhere word that shouldn't be used as a compliment, or ever particularly. If someone asks if they look alright and you say 'You look fine.' you've indirectly insulted them. They want to know they look above average, not subpar. Unless you put on a not very convincing stereotypically African-American accent and say 'You look fine, AS HELL GIRL.' I advise you to steer clear of that word altogether. The other thing that annoys me about this word is its mystery. If a friend says that they are 'fine' I automatically assume that they are in dire trouble. When did this happen? When did a word that allegedly means content become a social stress signal? The point is that everyone knows that's what it means. It's a vocabulary ninja. It means not what it's supposed to mean. If I’m feeling melancholy but not wanting to outright say that, I will say I’m fine. This statement will be followed by a long string of worried questions from my peers and I will be able to talk freely about my inferior and mediocre problems, 'since you asked...’
Another thing on my mind today is the legendary Charlie Sheen. Because let's be honest, who's mind isn't he on? And whose bed isn't he in? The man has become an overnight sensation and all because he's slightly off in the head, snorts anything crushable, and shags anything with a vague pulse. The point I’d like to draw upon is; Charlie Sheen has been this way possibly since Ferris Bueller took that day off. So why is he only getting major media attention now? Most people would say it's because he was released into the wild by the 'Two and a half men.' crew. I'd say it's the British tabloids. As soon as the born and bred publishing vultures caught sight of him the man was all over the front page faster than he could say 'Winning.'. But in all honesty he doesn't exactly make it easy for himself. If I was under supervision by police and paparazzi, my kids had been removed from my custody, and I was slowly becoming the next Chuck Norris I’d at least have the sense to lay low for a while and not to spew my cocaine-covered secrets to any reporter who almost glanced at me. I'm not really complaining however, the man gives me endless enjoyment.
A thing that provided me with little enjoyment today however; talent shows. Ever since the beginning of our schooling carers we've been told to excel in every way possible. To achieve highly. And breed our talents. But what is talent? Well according to that popular culture thing I keep bringing up, talent is the ability to either;
Sing,
Dance,
Act,
Or create a half decent sketch.
Now, being a mortal of very little talent I personally think this is an unfair judgment. I'd say my greatest talent is the ability to read people and assess social situations. However, would my year head see that trait as talent-show worthy? No. Personally even I wouldn't enjoy a five minute display of me evaluating the general 'auror' of a person or room and I doubt any sane person would. But why are these things not recognised as talents? What gives someone the right to say that is any less of a talent than being able to 'do the worm'. Okay so maybe my talent isn't quite the example I was looking for but it's a fair point. Sometimes the most amazing things are the most underrated.
Before I get too deep I have to point out that there are some super noodles in the microwave and they finished cooking 6 minutes ago and now they're cold and stale. I hope you're all happy. I'm going to eat them more than willingly anyway, fuck it.
Wednesday 9 March 2011
Never start a blog whilst enraged.
I'm sure popular culture dictates I should start by saying a few words about myself, but isn't learning the little things over time how we fall in love? And oh how I want you to love me.
Instead, I will tell you about my friends. My friend has decided that giving up alcohol would be a brilliant idea for lent, that's a lovely thought, but taking into the fact we're 17 makes it somewhat disturbing. Personally I think that at such an age of infinite possibilities it is in fact possible to have a good time without getting 'absolutely wankered' but needless to say even a intellectual being such as myself enjoys the odd mad one. The fact is that when they announced this to my chums there was a ripple of disgust, we (myself included) were astounded that someone would even consider 40 days without even a drop of fun juice. Does that make us alcoholics? I think so. If we were middle aged or in the US this would be seen as a serious problem, but as we are adolescents living in the capitol of binge drinking we continued to scoff at our sober friend. I do however wish her luck, and will update you of her progress.
Another thing that annoys me about British teens today is their complete devotion to sarcasm. Today we all went over to my best friend's and ate a fuck load of pancakes. What started out as a nice friendly afternoon soon became a blood bath of people's past embarrassments and heartaches. How is it that something you did once and seemed harmless can become so soul crushing when given to a mate as ammunition? There were jokes about boyfriends, in front of the boyfriends. Jokes about sex, in front of those involved. And jokes about being a hipster, in front of hipsters. I just don't understand why when the 'banter' is aimed at someone else it's hilarious, but when it's coming your way you want nothing more than to curl up and die and yet we all carry on and give it out like we don't know it's coming straight back. There is also the question of how to know when you've gone too far because it seems that whenever i attempt a light hearted sarcy joke no matter what I say the mood suddenly changes and it becomes apparent that i went 'Too far Lucy, too far.'.
Speaking of taking things too far, Facebook. When did it become okay to upload horrific pictures of people for other's amusement? I recently had some very lovely pictures of me and a 'you could say' friend uploaded. They weren't at all flattering and to be frank they were down right cringey. Aside from fuelling jokes amongst my group for the next decade they had no practical purpose other than to piss me and the other person involved off. So why do people do it? Why go through the effort and time just to make people feel bad? That's cyber bullying right there. I enjoy a good laugh as much as the next teen but that's what bad porn is for. And then there's that political battle within yourself of whether or not to remove your tag. If you do and the other person doesn't; you look rude and ashamed. If you don't and the other person does; you feel hurt and ashamed. Really the whole thing is another example of the blatant disregard for decency in the youth of today.
And on that note, and as it's National Non-Smoking day I’d just like to say 'Fuck off I’m going for a fag.'
Instead, I will tell you about my friends. My friend has decided that giving up alcohol would be a brilliant idea for lent, that's a lovely thought, but taking into the fact we're 17 makes it somewhat disturbing. Personally I think that at such an age of infinite possibilities it is in fact possible to have a good time without getting 'absolutely wankered' but needless to say even a intellectual being such as myself enjoys the odd mad one. The fact is that when they announced this to my chums there was a ripple of disgust, we (myself included) were astounded that someone would even consider 40 days without even a drop of fun juice. Does that make us alcoholics? I think so. If we were middle aged or in the US this would be seen as a serious problem, but as we are adolescents living in the capitol of binge drinking we continued to scoff at our sober friend. I do however wish her luck, and will update you of her progress.
Another thing that annoys me about British teens today is their complete devotion to sarcasm. Today we all went over to my best friend's and ate a fuck load of pancakes. What started out as a nice friendly afternoon soon became a blood bath of people's past embarrassments and heartaches. How is it that something you did once and seemed harmless can become so soul crushing when given to a mate as ammunition? There were jokes about boyfriends, in front of the boyfriends. Jokes about sex, in front of those involved. And jokes about being a hipster, in front of hipsters. I just don't understand why when the 'banter' is aimed at someone else it's hilarious, but when it's coming your way you want nothing more than to curl up and die and yet we all carry on and give it out like we don't know it's coming straight back. There is also the question of how to know when you've gone too far because it seems that whenever i attempt a light hearted sarcy joke no matter what I say the mood suddenly changes and it becomes apparent that i went 'Too far Lucy, too far.'.
Speaking of taking things too far, Facebook. When did it become okay to upload horrific pictures of people for other's amusement? I recently had some very lovely pictures of me and a 'you could say' friend uploaded. They weren't at all flattering and to be frank they were down right cringey. Aside from fuelling jokes amongst my group for the next decade they had no practical purpose other than to piss me and the other person involved off. So why do people do it? Why go through the effort and time just to make people feel bad? That's cyber bullying right there. I enjoy a good laugh as much as the next teen but that's what bad porn is for. And then there's that political battle within yourself of whether or not to remove your tag. If you do and the other person doesn't; you look rude and ashamed. If you don't and the other person does; you feel hurt and ashamed. Really the whole thing is another example of the blatant disregard for decency in the youth of today.
And on that note, and as it's National Non-Smoking day I’d just like to say 'Fuck off I’m going for a fag.'
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