Gin In Teacups.....I bloody wish.

I hate the start of spring. Today I had a rather degrading two hours that involved me wearing a blue waterproof down to my knees, with the hood up and floppy sleeves; I looked like a very small trainspotter who shops at Matalan. If that’s not bad enough, I was standing on top of a ladder holding a pressure washer screaming “DON’T TURN IT ON YOU WANKER! I’M GOING TO DIE!”

I’m not a girl that’s afraid of heights, but there’s something about ladders on a hill when you’re about to spray a roof about a foot in front of you with something they use to stop riots that makes me feel a little edgy. In fact, even the image of mowing down Americans didn’t make me feel better about my scenario. So there I was with the washer, spraying green moss in all directions in a manner of chaotic British-ness and all I wanted was a cup of tea, not to end up an hour later wet and angry and still obsessing over the fact that the damn thing isn’t even clean. I’m not a Fascist or anything for loving my nation; only that I listened to the Libertines a lot today.

To think, today I was planning to go underwear shopping. There’s a new dress I’ve been planning to buy that would look awesome with a pair of white stockings; and I could do with a new bra that doesn’t feel like it’s been laid with cement or makes me look like a London hooker. I love stockings….

Whilst I’m on a role, may I just mention the fact that the first bit of meat I’ve eaten all week happened to taste really, really odd. (I’m not counting the chicken korma yesterday, by the way. That hardly counts as eating and more ingesting if you’re busy watching Fawlty Towers and being anti-social) It wasn’t odd because I’m supposedly a vegetarian- if one that’s a little disloyal and cheating - but because I’m not used to Sunday lunches. I’m used to Monday’s half-assed takeaway meals, yet I seem to be organized this weekend what with all the revision post-it notes and the like.

I was meant to get a new lipstick as well….damnit. I wnt something pink, also a new eyeshadow if I can be bothered to actually look for one. In fact, I need new foundation whilst I’m there; and I would very much like a Babyshambles album.

I need a job.

X Six Days x

Blame It On The Rain

Fact: There are more wars in desert environments.

I have solved Job's question. There is war in the world because it doesn't rain enough. Think about it: if you show up for a battle and it's pissing it down with rain, you're hardly likely to have a morale high enough for war, are you? It hardly ever rains in the Middle East, hence the many wars there.

The weather in Wales is shite, and there's never any wars in Wales. I guess that's not proof of my theory though, seeing as there's nothing in Wales worth fighting over. Sorry...it's just the truth. Scotland, as well. Those bearded loons only beat us in their rebellions because they're used to fighting semi-naked in crappy weather. Nice place Scotland... nice shortbread.

We can blame more than we think on the weather. Ireland conflict, perhaps? Fuck religion, blame the rain and wind that makes everyone a little edgy. (And yes, I DO understand the complex issues surrounding the politcal and religion segregation, before I get angry emails. I understand, I just think there's a more simpler explanation. In fact, there's no explanation at all.)

It's been raining since Donny Tourette left Big Brother. It always rains in the sad bits of movies, especially when the blood gets washed off a cool sword. Nobody likes getting out of bed when it's raining. In fact, rains means I have no social life because I can't wear dresses in the rain.

...I like rain though. Despite its drawbacks, it's alright really.

Boredom Smells Like Teen Spirit

Listening to grunge at night before I go to bed (that's about 1am GMT) is perhaps not a good idea after a day totally wasted. Not that there's anything wrong with grunge, it's just that I'm in that sort of mood. Today my day consisted of laundry, taking down the 'leafery' (as my dad calls it) that I put up over Christmas and ate my body weight in shortbread. I also felt the urge to shout at people for bothering me in my time of doing nothing, so the conclusion must be reached that I am in a grunge sort of mood.

Being in a grunge sort of mood, I can now denounce that I have almost nothing useful to say, apart from reiterating that I am, in fact, wasting a large proportion of the last part of my day blogging about doing nothing and being in aforementioned grunge mood. If that's not wasting time, then what is?

I shall tell you what is: Marlon Brandon's law suit. It was settled today, the US apparently forgetting that he's dead. As dead as Kurt Cobain As dead as Courtney Love's career. Oh, and do you know what else is wasted? Resources and money; Dubai, for instance. That's a whole lot of Pointless in the amount of money they spend on rather silly flashy things. For instance, they have spent billions of dollars to built a gigantic snow dome in the middle of a desert. To quote an email I recived today: "Do you know why it costs £1.oo for a litre of petrol? So they can ski in the fucking desert!" It's so true.

On that note, I almost feel better about wasting my day staring at a brick wall. At least I'm not killing the world just because I want to build a giant shopping mall. Just, you know, for the hell of it.

A Moment To Obsess

I've decided that Donny Tourette is to win this year's Celebrity Big Brother. Okay, so he's not the perfectly cheerful housemate, but he's a lot more interesting than a footballer's wife. Is that what society has been resorted to? She looks like a Britney Spears wannabe, for a start. Oh, and the guy from the A Team? Come on! Every year we get some model, failed singers and people that screw footballers to get to their status of 'fame’. I believe Towers of London are a damn good band and their ambassador to the world of punk rock and roll should open a few eyes. Plus, he looks damn good in those trousers....*squee*.

My moment of obsession over, I should point out that I'm a terribly lazy person; as well as an obsessive person. Alright, so I'm not watching figure skating on YouTube, but I'm still hooked on at least three different series starting this week. If Celebrity Big Brother means I get to watch Russell Brand more, so be it. They say television has gone downhill, but I believe that's just not true: If the crap was taken away, how else could I highlight my Wednesdays than by settling down with ice cream and Desperate Housewives, the phone poised next to the sofa to ring various friends during the ads? And they say I'm callous and jaded...

On the subject of obsession, actually, I should explain the reason I didn't post an entry up yesterday (Laziness is usually not an acceptable excuse, dear readers): I re-discovered the new album by Alkaline Trio and spend the evening either yelling about it to anyone that would (or wouldn't) listen, or falling in love with it. The obsession, my excuse is, came from watching my computer run some stupid scan for three and a half hours and have nothing better to do than start reading lyrics in the booklet. Worse still, I found a demo version my ex-boyfriend found and gave to me as a present when we were dating − that led to more music appreciation of the genius of aforementioned band.

Music appreciation considered, Donny Tourette should be considered with the same respect as most rock and roll icons, as I also obsessed over his band, the Towers of London, a while back and I am somewhat thrilled that soon I will not be the only person to lust of his rebellious image.

Just for the record, Shameless is much better than Lost... I shall explain this, especially those who are obsessed with the lead male role, whose name I should remember lest it cost me my limbs, at a later date. Right now I shall sign myself into some forums and explain to the general public why Ken Russell is not an ‘eccentric’, but a scarily old guy in a horrifically frightening shirt; famous director or not. Most likely not.

The Mandatory Stuff

It's the Near Year...New Year's day to be precise and since Zulu is not on (how terribly disappointing, of course. I love to see history twisted by Britain’s ego) I figured I'd get cracking with the usual things you do, such as New Year resolutions etc.

1. Try and keep a job, possibly a better one after April. One that doesn't involve a waistcoat and a bow tie.
2. Continue to work on (and host) My Amaranthine. Also included in this is the act of constructive writing, which I should do more of. Note: This should not be carried out in important classes.
3. Keep a blog going to detail the events of my day, mad opinions that nobody else wants to hear and rants that are of undetermined important yet lacking logic and normality. (See 5)
4. Make an effort to wear nice clothes on days out etc. This doesn’t say I'm not allowed to wear ripped jeans and a beanie; just that it's not preferable to a nice dress. I should wear more dresses...they're nice.
5. To make more of an effort to get involved in the media: this means reading a newspaper without the urge to set it on fire and listening to podcasts other than Punky Radio (more on this later) Perhaps even starting a podcast myself.

Well, now that that's sorted I can call my best friend. She promised me something about a yoga class last year, and I'm almost quite tempted. That is, of course, if we can be bothered.