I know I don't blog as much as a could and I do have loads of new stuff I could talk about. However, I have been reading through my blog again and feel I need to bring up this point again. I can't spell.
"I've been reading through my posts and although on the whole I think they're quite good (yea, my ego only just fits through doorways) there is one thing that niggles. My spelling. I'm very sorry if you're the kind of person who can naturally spell amazingly well and to whom my poor spelling causes almost physical pain. I've always had a problem with it. Personally, I think I might be a bit dyslexic (what sadist made that word so hard to spell) sometimes I read words in the wrong order and when I speak the wrong word comes out. Having said this, I'm probably just being melodramatic and in reality I'm simply overtired and bad at spelling.
I've managed to get through 14 years of schooling and still not know instinctively which "which" is which. I miss letters out and throw extra ones into words depending on how generous I'm feeling at the time. I've produced work that is positively Elizabethan in terms of the variety of spellings for a single word it contains.
"Proof read!" I hear you cry. Unfortunately, for proof reading to work one must know how to spell the word in the first place. I think I have everything perfectly until someone points out a heinous error and I am forced to reconsider everything I've already written.
I think the best way to sum up my problem is to tell you a little anecdote about a time when my inability to spell has actually ruined my life. I got an interview at Kings College London. I arrived, full of excitement and potential, raring to prove that I would be an epic midwife. They gave me a numeracy assessment. "Easy" I said to myself "I have an A in GCSE maths and I do A-level physics." I passed with flying colours. Result. They gave me a literacy assessment. "Easy" I thought to myself "I'm clearly literate, I have and A in GCSE English language and I do A-level history, I write essays ALL the time. Wrong. I failed and got rejected from the university. I got 2/10 in my spelling test. Seriously.
What I'm really trying to say is that I'm very sorry for any misspellings in my posts. My bad. Have a song about poetry to make up for it.
YAY! FRANK TURNER!"
Monday, 26 December 2011
Sunday, 13 November 2011
I'm a lazy reader (and feel no shame in admitting to this)
I am aware that this post could be controversial. I am expecting at least an irate text from the best friend berating me for this addition. Please, let me explain myself. I do read. Alot. I read a wide variety of things. Oscar Wilde is my favourite author but I'm not adverse to some Katie Fforde on occasion. I have a soft spot for Terry Pratchett and yes, I read Twilight and to my eternal shame, I loved it. Neil Gaiman provides escapism and Orwell and Huxley Show me what the world could be in a not-so-far-off dystopian future. I love books with a passion.
So why the post title I hear you cry! I hate books that take an inordinate amount of effort to read. I don't want to have to plough through tedious meandering plots. I just don't see why I should have to work to traverse through the book. Surely it's the job of the author to make my journey through their world pleasurable and easy? I read a book to be entertained, to leave this world for a while. I want to be carried along without needing a high level of mental persistence.
*disclaimer: This is different from reading books that make me think, I like that, I just resent having to think. A perfect book will carry me along whilst making me think.*
Books that fit this description are often "classic" literature. I'm talking about Tolstoy, Dickens and Hardy. In general books that are winners of or have been short-listed for high-brow and prestigious award such as the Man Booker prize eg. Cloud Atlas often fall into this category. Now I appreciate beautiful imagery and structure as much as the next person but, in my opinion, without sufficient plot a book is empty and dreary.
I now open the floor to anyone out of my extensive readership (jokes!) to challenge this view. I promise I wont hold it against you.
Massive love xxxxxxxxx
Friday, 11 November 2011
Monday, 24 October 2011
Saga of the lightbulb.
Hello strangers. I'm not dead. If fact, I can say with absolute certainty that I'm definitely not dead. The number of times I've had my pulse taken and my blood pressure checked the past couple of days...........sigh! I am, however, in my seventh week of university! Hurrah! Earlier this year I thought that I would never in million years be able to say that! (You can tell that I'm still pretty excited due to the profusion of exclamation marks contained within this post.) Despite my extreme glee at being away from home, at university, independent living is not without it's challenges let me talk to you about the saga of the light bulb. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
After hours of packing and sorting my room I arrive at university and realise I'd left my bedside lamp at home.
This was a problem. The main light in my uni room is really bright, not very relaxing if one wants to read in bed. Not to mention the fact that when the time comes for sleep I had to drag my backside out of bed and across the room to the light switch. Something had to be done.
I went into Cambridge city centre at the first opportunity I had. After a pleasant amble around some shops found a wonderful bedside lamp for £6. Bargain. I took it home feeling very proud of myself. I had overcome the first hurdle of living away from my fantastic, doting parents.
Sorry this has been such a long one, I'm procrastinating (again!)
After hours of packing and sorting my room I arrive at university and realise I'd left my bedside lamp at home.
I went into Cambridge city centre at the first opportunity I had. After a pleasant amble around some shops found a wonderful bedside lamp for £6. Bargain. I took it home feeling very proud of myself. I had overcome the first hurdle of living away from my fantastic, doting parents.
You can but imagine my horror upon my return home when I realised my quarry was lacking. There was no light-bulb provided. by the time I discovered this it was too late for anything to be done. I had to spend yet another night without any relaxing lighting to read by. Fortunately I was going to town again on the Sunday and was passing a large Tesco (other supermarkets are available.) Morning came and I carefully checked the label on the lamp as I had vague suspicion that there are more than one type of lightbulb. The picture looked like a screw in one so I set off with high hopes to the shops.
Now, I don't know about you but I'd never bought a lightbulb at this point in my life. As far as I was concerned lightbulbs came from the little set of draws above the washing machine in the utility room. As I stood in Tesco it dawned on me that I hadn't the foggiest idea where I should even begin to look for one amongst the wasteland of commodities. I aimlessly wandered thought the isles for a quite a while before I eventually gave up and asked a very nice man where to find them. I think I will forever be emotionally scared by the pitying look he gave me as I explained the situation to him. He took me to the isle and left me in-front of a bewildering array of lightbulbs. I chose one that looked like it fitted my description and headed to the till feeling very proud of myself.
Alas, upon my return home I tried to fit my new purchase into my lamp, only to discover that it didn't fit! I can't begin to describe my disappointment. I felt so stupid and upset. My future loomed ahead of me, dark and cold. I couldn't even complete the simplest task, I didn't think I'd survive till Christmas!
Maybe independent living wasn't going to be as easy as I first thought. I took a deep breath, pulled myself together and returned to the supermarket. Now I knew where the light bulbs were I want straight thereI and found the small (key detail there!) screw in ones. I returned home and I had done it! It fitted! I was ecstatic. I had finally succeeded in my task!
Now, you may be wondering what this long meandering and seeming pointless story is all about. My point is that moving home has been a series of little obstacles. I didn't realise how much stuff was done for me until there was no-one there to do it. I didn't know how to cook potatoes to put in curry and I had no real concept of how much food cost. I'm getting the hang of it now but the first few months were an adventure of discovery. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that you should be grateful of all the little things that you don't normally have to do.
Sorry this has been such a long one, I'm procrastinating (again!) All my love and kisses guys. I've missed you.
Monday, 17 October 2011
Monday, 4 July 2011
SO FRICKIN' BORED!
Recently I've noticed an odd phemoninum occurring. I've been bored, really, mind-numbingly, gouge-your-own eyes-out-just-for-something-to-do bored.
I've read 1984 for fun. I've been for strolls in the park on my own. I've run up and down the stairs repeatedly, I've found obscure videos of parrots shagging someone's head (I guess you'll want to watch it now, click HERE) The thing is, everyone but me seems to be busy, be it visiting relatives or friends in far flung corners of the country (well, at least a few hours south) or recoding with their band or simply going to the beach. Unfortunatly work commitments mean that I'm always busy exactly halfway through the day meaning I can't just pop to the beach like a normal person.
All the things that seemed fun when they were procrastinations now have no appeal. It doesn't help that it's beautifully sunny so staying in and blobbing isn't top of my list. I also have my own excitement to deal with. I do have some fun stuff planned, like FRANK TURNER ON THURSDAY!!!! and my school leavers dinner on Friday and then, next week....I'm going to Italy for a couple of weeks. Knowing I have all of this planned makes the times I'm not doing anything seem all the more dull.
I should really take up a hobby but boredom makes me lethargic. I feel better now I've told you all how bored I am. You can go back to your lives now. I'll go and find something productive to do.
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| This is me removing my eye (and apparently using my spider hands to shove it up my nose) |
All the things that seemed fun when they were procrastinations now have no appeal. It doesn't help that it's beautifully sunny so staying in and blobbing isn't top of my list. I also have my own excitement to deal with. I do have some fun stuff planned, like FRANK TURNER ON THURSDAY!!!! and my school leavers dinner on Friday and then, next week....I'm going to Italy for a couple of weeks. Knowing I have all of this planned makes the times I'm not doing anything seem all the more dull.
I should really take up a hobby but boredom makes me lethargic. I feel better now I've told you all how bored I am. You can go back to your lives now. I'll go and find something productive to do.
Thursday, 30 June 2011
As promised.
Exams are over. I'm a free woman. This is currently what I look like. Well, minus the slight look of homicidal mania.
So, I've been promising a proper post for ages now and I figured there's no time like the present (plus I have a small hole in my normally full social calender). I'm still getting over the fact I no longer have to study, It's such a wierd feeling. I keep experiencing waves of guilt about not pouring over the notes that I've already thrown out. I am assured it will pass in time.
I am faced with the pleasant prospect of a long summer holiday not doing very much with my life at all. There are a million things the I could be doing but I can guarantee that I won't do them so I'm not even going to attempt anything that could be construed as productive. I intend to fill my time with the watching of TV, reading of books and chilling with the occasional unlucky friend.
Right. I'm going to get down to the business of pretentious post writing rather than waffling about my life.
London. Capital of England. Home of black cabs, Westminster, and the Queen. Metropolis. May as well be a million miles away from rural North East England where I'm currently stuck. Now, you have to understand the London and I are not best buddies. We have a bit of a personality clash. I find London vulgar, dirty and rude. There are far too many people and I just can't warm to it. London finds me small, insignificant and out of my depth. You can see why we don't get on. I prefer medium sized pretty places, like Cambridge (win!). This relationship with London is something The Best Friend and I disagree on. She loves the damn place.
This being said, I have a few friends and acquaintances in London. I keep in touch with them via the wonderful, worldwide meeting place that is Facebook. I read their status updates with interest. They always seem to be doing something fantastic. Like seeing Mumford And Sons in Hyde park. Or going to Wimbledon and seeing Nadal the dreamboat. Or watching the Graham Norton Show live. They get all of these fantastic opportunities because they live in London, where things happen, rather than in Northumberland where they don't. It simply isn't fair.
The preferential treatment of London always irks me. Listening to the national radio stations, such as Radio One, the give traffic reports for London, tell you of events happening in London. It's all about London. London. London. London. In London they think that Yorkshire is north. Heck, they practically think that Birmingham is north. These places are hours south for me. Hours. In a car. With my family. They are NOT Northern. They also seem to think that things that occur in the north are not worth reporting. Northern cities are not worth visiting. Again, simply not fair.
Now I understand that London is the centre of politics in the country and home of the royals seemingly anyone else of note but does that mean that the North can be ignored? It takes me 6-7 hours to get to London in the car. I can't travel to the entertainment and I don't see why the entertainment can't travel to me. Seriously Next year can we hold Wimbledon in Newcastle? (wait second....doh!)
Anyhoo. Rant over. you can all go back to your lives now.
Love and kisses x
ps. New glasses are great, can see again. hurrah.
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| Pleased as punch! |
I am faced with the pleasant prospect of a long summer holiday not doing very much with my life at all. There are a million things the I could be doing but I can guarantee that I won't do them so I'm not even going to attempt anything that could be construed as productive. I intend to fill my time with the watching of TV, reading of books and chilling with the occasional unlucky friend.
Right. I'm going to get down to the business of pretentious post writing rather than waffling about my life.
London. Capital of England. Home of black cabs, Westminster, and the Queen. Metropolis. May as well be a million miles away from rural North East England where I'm currently stuck. Now, you have to understand the London and I are not best buddies. We have a bit of a personality clash. I find London vulgar, dirty and rude. There are far too many people and I just can't warm to it. London finds me small, insignificant and out of my depth. You can see why we don't get on. I prefer medium sized pretty places, like Cambridge (win!). This relationship with London is something The Best Friend and I disagree on. She loves the damn place.
This being said, I have a few friends and acquaintances in London. I keep in touch with them via the wonderful, worldwide meeting place that is Facebook. I read their status updates with interest. They always seem to be doing something fantastic. Like seeing Mumford And Sons in Hyde park. Or going to Wimbledon and seeing Nadal the dreamboat. Or watching the Graham Norton Show live. They get all of these fantastic opportunities because they live in London, where things happen, rather than in Northumberland where they don't. It simply isn't fair.
The preferential treatment of London always irks me. Listening to the national radio stations, such as Radio One, the give traffic reports for London, tell you of events happening in London. It's all about London. London. London. London. In London they think that Yorkshire is north. Heck, they practically think that Birmingham is north. These places are hours south for me. Hours. In a car. With my family. They are NOT Northern. They also seem to think that things that occur in the north are not worth reporting. Northern cities are not worth visiting. Again, simply not fair.
Now I understand that London is the centre of politics in the country and home of the royals seemingly anyone else of note but does that mean that the North can be ignored? It takes me 6-7 hours to get to London in the car. I can't travel to the entertainment and I don't see why the entertainment can't travel to me. Seriously Next year can we hold Wimbledon in Newcastle? (wait second....doh!)
Anyhoo. Rant over. you can all go back to your lives now.
Love and kisses x
ps. New glasses are great, can see again. hurrah.
Saturday, 25 June 2011
The final push.
Well hello there my beautiful young chickens. No, I'm not drunk, simply in fine fettle this glorious day. The end is in sight. By Monday afternoon I shall be free from the daily grind of school. The culmination of 14 years of full time education. Shocker. Only one more little physics based exam to plough my way through. The final push. The last time over the top.
Who I am I kidding? I've got all of this to look forward to this time next year...Although, I suppose I can't complain. Next years is self inflicted education. YAY!
Also, I just got new glasses wanna see? No? Tough. My blog; my rules.
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| I shall be able to see again! |
Look! Pretty glasses!
Anyhoo, I again apologies for the relative crappyness of this post. Normal service will be resumed after Monday.
All my love and sloppy kisses xxxx
Monday, 20 June 2011
Hello Google.
I've just checked my audience statistics (It's not as vain as it sounds, I've only just worked out how to do it and I'm quite excited). I noticed that quite a lot of my traffic was coming from Google. I checked this out and I've discovered that if you image search "man eating cucumber" or "procrastination monster" my pictures come up linking to the blog!
I really do promise to get back to proper posting after Monday.
Also, hi Tom.
I really do promise to get back to proper posting after Monday.
Also, hi Tom.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Speaking of fish.
I was alarmed to walk in from work and find my dinner looking at me....
(after exams I promise I'll write a proper post rather than these ridiculous mini posts....)
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Friday, 17 June 2011
Sun.
Apparently it's pissing down with rain everywhere in the UK. I would just like to point out that it is beautiful and sunny here in the North East. Honest. Not that I can enjoy it seen as I'm still stuck in the middle of exam turmoil. Still, only 10 days left and it's all over. Hurrah!
Just wanted to rub the sun in your faces. Like this:
Just wanted to rub the sun in your faces. Like this:
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Fish.
The Best Friend has been nagging me to write another post. So I'm going to write about fish. I have a friend who has two fish, Perry and Bubbles. Recently I was "revising" round at her house and I remarked that the fish food she feeds her fish is made from, erm, fish. I thought this was a bit creepy. Anyway, she calls me up the other day to let me know that Bubbles was sick. He was kinda bent double in his bowl. This in itself is distressing. However, worse was yet to come. Perry Had been eating bits of Bubbles. I know, gross right? We did a bit of research and it turns out that fish are a bit cannibalistic.
Owing to the alarming nature of this situation I'm personally of the opinion that Bubbles should be put out of his misery. This resulted in a lunchtime researching fish euthanasia, we found one method that seemed like a doable option, it involved clove oil and vodka. I was quite surprised at the number of websites telling you how to kill your fish. I was even more surprised at the comments people left. Two of my favourites:
"Step one. Toilet
Step two. Flush"
"I find the waste disposal unit is best"<-----This one made me literally LOL
I realise that this makes me seem a tiny bit sadistic but I find this whole idea of fish cannibalism quite amusing. I drew this picture for my friend the fish owner:
Owing to the alarming nature of this situation I'm personally of the opinion that Bubbles should be put out of his misery. This resulted in a lunchtime researching fish euthanasia, we found one method that seemed like a doable option, it involved clove oil and vodka. I was quite surprised at the number of websites telling you how to kill your fish. I was even more surprised at the comments people left. Two of my favourites:
"Step one. Toilet
Step two. Flush"
"I find the waste disposal unit is best"<-----This one made me literally LOL
I realise that this makes me seem a tiny bit sadistic but I find this whole idea of fish cannibalism quite amusing. I drew this picture for my friend the fish owner:
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| It's a fish eat fish world out there.... |
I thought it was great. She was unimpressed.
I should probably get some sleep now, I have an exam tomorrow....wish me luck guys!
PS. She didn't kill her fish......
UPDATE: Bubbles has now sadly deceased.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Just a time for a quickie, love.
The BBC had this headline on their web page "Cucumber fear spreads in Europe". It conjures up fantastical images of giant man-eating cucumbers.
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| Man-eating cucumber |
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Procrastination monster strikes again.
If you've ever had something really important to do that you can't really be arsed to do, such as studying for an exam or tidying your room, I'll bet you a million pounds that you've had a run in with the procrastination monster.
This beast is currently ruining my life. I sit down in the morning to do some studying then, BAM! I'm distracted and doing something completely unrelated to my original task. I should really be studying right now, oops.
In my defence I'm still recuperating from last week. I was out stumbling home late most nights. In my school each department, so in my case Chemistry, Physics and Biology, go out on the lash together. This includes the teaching staff, I can honestly say that I now view my teachers (or should I say ex-teachers) in a completely different light. It is quite on odd feeling to know that they're never going to teach me again. You don't realise that they have such an influence on you till it all stops.
Still, only a few pesky little exams then I have a whole summer to look forward to and then I can get stuck into Uni!!!! WOO! (apologies for the profusion of exclamation marks, I just get really excited...)
Right, I'm off to battle the procrastination monster and get some A-levels. Over and Out.
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| The procrastination monster |
This beast is currently ruining my life. I sit down in the morning to do some studying then, BAM! I'm distracted and doing something completely unrelated to my original task. I should really be studying right now, oops.
In my defence I'm still recuperating from last week. I was out stumbling home late most nights. In my school each department, so in my case Chemistry, Physics and Biology, go out on the lash together. This includes the teaching staff, I can honestly say that I now view my teachers (or should I say ex-teachers) in a completely different light. It is quite on odd feeling to know that they're never going to teach me again. You don't realise that they have such an influence on you till it all stops.
Still, only a few pesky little exams then I have a whole summer to look forward to and then I can get stuck into Uni!!!! WOO! (apologies for the profusion of exclamation marks, I just get really excited...)
Right, I'm off to battle the procrastination monster and get some A-levels. Over and Out.
Monday, 16 May 2011
A short story about spelling.
I've been reading through my posts and although on the whole I think they're quite good (yea, my ego only just fits through doorways) there is one thing that niggles. My spelling. I'm very sorry if you're the kind of person who can naturally spell amazingly well and to whom my poor spelling causes almost physical pain. I've always had a problem with it. Personally, I think I might be a bit dyslexic (what sadist made that word so hard to spell) sometimes I read words in the wrong order and when I speak the wrong word comes out. Having said this, I'm probably just being melodramatic and in reality I'm simply overtired and bad at spelling.
I've managed to get through 14 years of schooling and still not know instinctively which "which" is which. I miss letters out and throw extra ones into words depending on how generous I'm feeling at the time. I've produced work that is positively Elizabethan in terms of the variety of spellings for a single word it contains.
"Proof read!" I hear you cry. Unfortunately, for proof reading to work one must know how to spell the word in the first place. I think I have everything perfectly until someone points out a heinous error and I am forced to reconsider everything I've already written.
I think the best way to sum up my problem is to tell you a little anecdote about a time when my inability to spell has actually ruined my life. I got an interview at Kings College London. I arrived, full of excitement and potential, raring to prove that I would be an epic midwife. They gave me a numeracy assessment. "Easy" I said to myself "I have an A in GCSE maths and I do A-level physics." I passed with flying colours. Result. They gave me a literacy assessment. "Easy" I thought to myself "I'm clearly literate, I have and A in GCSE English language and I do A-level history, I write essays ALL the time. Wrong. I failed and got rejected from the university. I got 2/10 in my spelling test. Seriously.
What I'm really trying to say is that I'm very sorry for any misspellings in my posts. My bad. Have a song about poetry to make up for it.
YAY! FRANK TURNER!
I've managed to get through 14 years of schooling and still not know instinctively which "which" is which. I miss letters out and throw extra ones into words depending on how generous I'm feeling at the time. I've produced work that is positively Elizabethan in terms of the variety of spellings for a single word it contains.
"Proof read!" I hear you cry. Unfortunately, for proof reading to work one must know how to spell the word in the first place. I think I have everything perfectly until someone points out a heinous error and I am forced to reconsider everything I've already written.
I think the best way to sum up my problem is to tell you a little anecdote about a time when my inability to spell has actually ruined my life. I got an interview at Kings College London. I arrived, full of excitement and potential, raring to prove that I would be an epic midwife. They gave me a numeracy assessment. "Easy" I said to myself "I have an A in GCSE maths and I do A-level physics." I passed with flying colours. Result. They gave me a literacy assessment. "Easy" I thought to myself "I'm clearly literate, I have and A in GCSE English language and I do A-level history, I write essays ALL the time. Wrong. I failed and got rejected from the university. I got 2/10 in my spelling test. Seriously.
What I'm really trying to say is that I'm very sorry for any misspellings in my posts. My bad. Have a song about poetry to make up for it.
YAY! FRANK TURNER!
Saturday, 14 May 2011
The day I get eaten by my cats.
We've all had them, the traumatic moment when you realise that you're going to end up a 50 year old spinster who gets eaten by her cats and no-one notices till two weeks later. Unloved and alone. I'm going to let you into a little secret, I recently got dumped. Heartlessly tossed into the gutter. Rejected. Tragically left to wither, lonely and hurt. Ok, it wasn't quite as dramatic as that. All things considered it was very civilized and amicable. However, I'm going to explain how I got through the lonely evenings before I decided that I would probably survive.
If you've ever seem the film Bridget Jones you'll know this scene:
Well, this is what I was reduced to. I know, pathetic right. I sat in my room listening to ADELE wallowing in self pity, swigging Malibu straight from the bottle. I even had my own tub of ice cream in the freezer I was getting through so much of the stuff. You think I'm joking. I'm not. I lay on my bed in my pants and sang into my hair brush.
I regressed to being about 7 on a few evenings when I decided to see if my life could get any worse by seeing what would happen if I had no knees. This resulted in me walking around my house with my knees locked straight for a few hours. I can conclude that my life would be worse if I was unloved and had no knees. I also started going to bed at about half eight (although this was probably the Malibu)
Now, I'm not unattractive (at least I don't think I am) and I'm sure that I will find someone with whom I will share many an evening watching university challenge, drinking red wine and discussing, I don't know, Shakespeare? But until then I feel there will be just as many nights spent with my two favourite guys, Mr Ben and Mr Jerry (just kidding, like I could afford Ben and Jerrys, own brand all the way!)
And hey, Bridget Jones pulled both Colin Firth AND Hugh Grant, even with massive knickers. There must be hope for me yet.
If you've ever seem the film Bridget Jones you'll know this scene:
Well, this is what I was reduced to. I know, pathetic right. I sat in my room listening to ADELE wallowing in self pity, swigging Malibu straight from the bottle. I even had my own tub of ice cream in the freezer I was getting through so much of the stuff. You think I'm joking. I'm not. I lay on my bed in my pants and sang into my hair brush.
I regressed to being about 7 on a few evenings when I decided to see if my life could get any worse by seeing what would happen if I had no knees. This resulted in me walking around my house with my knees locked straight for a few hours. I can conclude that my life would be worse if I was unloved and had no knees. I also started going to bed at about half eight (although this was probably the Malibu)
Now, I'm not unattractive (at least I don't think I am) and I'm sure that I will find someone with whom I will share many an evening watching university challenge, drinking red wine and discussing, I don't know, Shakespeare? But until then I feel there will be just as many nights spent with my two favourite guys, Mr Ben and Mr Jerry (just kidding, like I could afford Ben and Jerrys, own brand all the way!)
And hey, Bridget Jones pulled both Colin Firth AND Hugh Grant, even with massive knickers. There must be hope for me yet.
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
I promise this website isn't as pervy as it sounds.
Look at this website manbabies.com. It made me laugh so much I almost cried. The things you do when you're procrastinating.
Monday, 9 May 2011
If I voted am I now a real grown up?
Ok, so politics. I would be lying if I said I understand what's happening all the time. What I'm trying to say is that I understand the basic principle and take a passing interest but I'm not going to get all revolutionary. I simply don't know enough about it. However, I did get quite excited by the recent referendum on AV (the alternitve vote). If you're still confused about AV check this out (if you don't care, read on Macduff*):
I voted yes to this. We lost but, hey, that's democracy for you. I know that AV is not a perfect system but, at the end of the day, all voting systems are flawed and I wanted to see what would happen with this new one. I realise that this may not have been the most responsible way to cast my vote but I'm all for a good social experiment so I don't really care. I would also like to point out that I did not vote for AV because I necessarily agree with the Lib. Dems. I may have had a brief love affair but they left me feeling dirty and unfulfilled, jus' sayin'.
I liked being able to vote, it gave me a feeling of power, like I could really make a difference. This is probably a very naive veiw for me to have but I'm young, being naive is part of the job description. On the whole I currently think democracy still works. I do feel privileged to live in a society that is fairly uncorrupted and we have some degree of choice about how the country is run. Democracy must come hand in hand with freedom of speech and it must accept satire as par for the course. Which neatly brings me to two of my favourite tumblr blogs. I think the sum the current government perfectly. Hope they make you smile. David Cameron pretending to be common and Nick Clegg looking sad.
*I do know this is a pun on a misquotation and the original was not "lead on, Macduff" but rather "Lay on, Macduff, and the dammed be him who cries 'Hold! Enough!'". Geez guys, take a joke....
I voted yes to this. We lost but, hey, that's democracy for you. I know that AV is not a perfect system but, at the end of the day, all voting systems are flawed and I wanted to see what would happen with this new one. I realise that this may not have been the most responsible way to cast my vote but I'm all for a good social experiment so I don't really care. I would also like to point out that I did not vote for AV because I necessarily agree with the Lib. Dems. I may have had a brief love affair but they left me feeling dirty and unfulfilled, jus' sayin'.
I liked being able to vote, it gave me a feeling of power, like I could really make a difference. This is probably a very naive veiw for me to have but I'm young, being naive is part of the job description. On the whole I currently think democracy still works. I do feel privileged to live in a society that is fairly uncorrupted and we have some degree of choice about how the country is run. Democracy must come hand in hand with freedom of speech and it must accept satire as par for the course. Which neatly brings me to two of my favourite tumblr blogs. I think the sum the current government perfectly. Hope they make you smile. David Cameron pretending to be common and Nick Clegg looking sad.
*I do know this is a pun on a misquotation and the original was not "lead on, Macduff" but rather "Lay on, Macduff, and the dammed be him who cries 'Hold! Enough!'". Geez guys, take a joke....
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Feeling down?
Reasons you could feel sad right now:
1) Exam season is looming in an alarminly threatening manner and you're sitting an writting a blog post that no-one will care about rather than revising.
2) You've just lost someting important.
3)Your dog just died a horrific death.
4) You just listened to ADELE and now you feel sorry for yourself.
5) People laugh at you when you speak.
6) No-one loves you.
Anyway, whatever you're reason is, what you really need to do is listen to a good rabble raising song such as:
1) Exam season is looming in an alarminly threatening manner and you're sitting an writting a blog post that no-one will care about rather than revising.
2) You've just lost someting important.
3)Your dog just died a horrific death.
 |
| This is your dog. |
5) People laugh at you when you speak.
6) No-one loves you.
Anyway, whatever you're reason is, what you really need to do is listen to a good rabble raising song such as:
I Knew Prufrock Before He Got Famous by Frank Turner.
This beauty features Lyrics such as:
"Yeah I am sick and tired of people who are living on the b-list
Yeah they're waiting to be famous, and they're wondering why they do this
And I know I'm not the one who it habitually optimistic
But I'm the one who's got the microphone here so just remember this
Well life is about love, lost minutes and lost evening
About fire in our bellies and about furtive little feelings
And the aching amplitudes that set our needles all flickering
And they help us with remembering that the only thing left to do is live
After all the loving and losing, after all the heroes and the pioneers
The only thing that's left to do is get another round in at the bar."
Yeah they're waiting to be famous, and they're wondering why they do this
And I know I'm not the one who it habitually optimistic
But I'm the one who's got the microphone here so just remember this
Well life is about love, lost minutes and lost evening
About fire in our bellies and about furtive little feelings
And the aching amplitudes that set our needles all flickering
And they help us with remembering that the only thing left to do is live
After all the loving and losing, after all the heroes and the pioneers
The only thing that's left to do is get another round in at the bar."
OH YEA!
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