Posts
Now I don't know about you, but in every country I have been to, there is a simple unwritten rule.
1) Stand on the right of the escalator if your not going to walk down them
2) Walk down the left
3) Don't fuck with the system
Now in every country I have been to that has a subway of sorts, this exists. Which makes me think, that foreigners that come to this country should be totally aware of this.
A lot it seems aren't.
I get massively pissed off when trying to get quickly down the escalators (come on I am a Londoner, rushing is built into my DNA), and you find some moron standing on the wrong side of the escalators.... have they not noticed the angry queue forming behind them as they stand there in ignorant bliss!?!??!
Seriously I always get images of pushing them down the stairs so that they may learn, and once they have been taught this lesson, I imagine they won't forget it any time soon...
Sunday, 15 January 2012
Saturday, 17 December 2011
Dress Horse charging through
Ok, so anyone who knows me well, knows I love dresses. I spend hours and hours and hours (in all honesty), staring at dresses and wondering how much of being in the red I can tolerate, before giving in and buying the dress. It's a viscious cycle and I figure it will only end when the floor collapses under all the weight of my dresses.
I realised yesturday I had a bit of a problem, when looking at President Obama's 2011 christmas card, I immediately recognised the dress his daughter Sasha was wearing, and where she bought it from. Why? Because I literally do spend hours staring at dresses. In fact, I was so sure of myself, I asked the company that makes them, if in fact it was the same dress, and they said yes. I had in the past debated whether I should buy the same dress, but figured after seeing the photo, it suited Sasha's figure more than mine. I'm a beanpole, and she at 13 has annoyingly more curves than me.
When I was younger, I pretty much lived in the baggyest trousers known to man. You could comfortably have fitted three of me in one trouser leg, and probably still had space to shoove a few bricks down there too. I was for a long time the 'grunge' kid. And my gosh did I think I was kool. Looking back, I feel embarassement at having dressed like that. For years I choose not to embrace my femininity, feeling I had to tell the world my music tastes/lifestyle through my clothes. Then one day I realised, no one actually cares, and more importantly, I look ridiculous. Now I suppose I am trying to appease a by gone era and dress how I should be dressed; like a woman.
I may be 5 foot in stature but I am slowly learning the joys of being female, not in a feminist way, but still. It's less of the black and more of the flowers nowadays. Ironically I can't actually stand flowers. It's known that I love gardening, and happily harp on about the things I grow, but my motto is: "If you can't eat it, no point growing it." As such, presenting me with a bunch of flowers won't go down well, but various fruit and vegetable plants...hell yeah :-). I remember one guy actually remembered my distaste for flowers and presented me with some grass... it was nice grass actually, but I wasn't quite sure what to do with it.....
I realised today that I need to stop buying dresses, whether I will actually be active (or rather inactive!) on that stance, remains to be seen. However, I had a thought, why not start a blog on what I wear, and post a picture everyday of my stylish(?) delights. It would be good to find out what suits and doesn't and try and get more creative with what I own, rather than thinking.....new dress time...albeit, it is a wonderful moment when I do have a new dress in my hands :-)
I realised yesturday I had a bit of a problem, when looking at President Obama's 2011 christmas card, I immediately recognised the dress his daughter Sasha was wearing, and where she bought it from. Why? Because I literally do spend hours staring at dresses. In fact, I was so sure of myself, I asked the company that makes them, if in fact it was the same dress, and they said yes. I had in the past debated whether I should buy the same dress, but figured after seeing the photo, it suited Sasha's figure more than mine. I'm a beanpole, and she at 13 has annoyingly more curves than me.
When I was younger, I pretty much lived in the baggyest trousers known to man. You could comfortably have fitted three of me in one trouser leg, and probably still had space to shoove a few bricks down there too. I was for a long time the 'grunge' kid. And my gosh did I think I was kool. Looking back, I feel embarassement at having dressed like that. For years I choose not to embrace my femininity, feeling I had to tell the world my music tastes/lifestyle through my clothes. Then one day I realised, no one actually cares, and more importantly, I look ridiculous. Now I suppose I am trying to appease a by gone era and dress how I should be dressed; like a woman.
I may be 5 foot in stature but I am slowly learning the joys of being female, not in a feminist way, but still. It's less of the black and more of the flowers nowadays. Ironically I can't actually stand flowers. It's known that I love gardening, and happily harp on about the things I grow, but my motto is: "If you can't eat it, no point growing it." As such, presenting me with a bunch of flowers won't go down well, but various fruit and vegetable plants...hell yeah :-). I remember one guy actually remembered my distaste for flowers and presented me with some grass... it was nice grass actually, but I wasn't quite sure what to do with it.....
I realised today that I need to stop buying dresses, whether I will actually be active (or rather inactive!) on that stance, remains to be seen. However, I had a thought, why not start a blog on what I wear, and post a picture everyday of my stylish(?) delights. It would be good to find out what suits and doesn't and try and get more creative with what I own, rather than thinking.....new dress time...albeit, it is a wonderful moment when I do have a new dress in my hands :-)
Monday, 28 November 2011
Christmas Cheer
And so it is a month until Christmas. I know this for two reasons. One, someone told me and two because it's that time of year when every comedian worth even a vague pinch of salt is hawking a DVD (or should I say Blu-ray?) of their live stand up show.
However, I did not expect to have my eyes raped by the sight of every single advert on the tube at at many stations on my route to uni, adorned with adverts from just about every comedian out there. I felt slightly naseous, and for the first time ever, welcomed the high volume of haute jewlerry store adverts that line the escaltors at Chancery Lane. I wish I had a better word than adverts, it doesn't seem upmarket enough.
Now, I've seen Jimmy carr live, and ripped my insides with laughter, but would I ever bother purchasing his show? Hell no, because once I've heard the joke and laughed, I doubt I'll repeatedly laugh at the same joke more than twice. So why have your Aunt shell out money on a DVD you'll probably only watch once? I would say download for free, but hey I'm not going to encourage it ;-)
So the solution is simple. Everyone rush out and buy the DVD of their favourite comedian, and then once you've grown tired of the same joke, swap it with a friend. That way you save money, the comedians make money, and you get to hear lots more jokes.
However, I did not expect to have my eyes raped by the sight of every single advert on the tube at at many stations on my route to uni, adorned with adverts from just about every comedian out there. I felt slightly naseous, and for the first time ever, welcomed the high volume of haute jewlerry store adverts that line the escaltors at Chancery Lane. I wish I had a better word than adverts, it doesn't seem upmarket enough.
Now, I've seen Jimmy carr live, and ripped my insides with laughter, but would I ever bother purchasing his show? Hell no, because once I've heard the joke and laughed, I doubt I'll repeatedly laugh at the same joke more than twice. So why have your Aunt shell out money on a DVD you'll probably only watch once? I would say download for free, but hey I'm not going to encourage it ;-)
So the solution is simple. Everyone rush out and buy the DVD of their favourite comedian, and then once you've grown tired of the same joke, swap it with a friend. That way you save money, the comedians make money, and you get to hear lots more jokes.
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
Death comes just 4 times a year
So I am currently dying. My head is achy, my nose is well and truely blocked, I'm not sleeping and life is generally a chore. Yes I am have Man Flu. This I am certain, it's definately not just normal flu, no it's Man Flu, and it's striked me down in the prime of life.
Two nights of no sleep now, and I can feel myself going blind. Yesturday I in all honesty walked into a wall in my delerious state, as my body felt like it wasn't there. So yes it's Man Flu.
Not quite sure what to do, I bundled over to the Boots at Liverpool Street Station, and was rather overwhelmed at the shelf after shelf of cold medicine products. After comparing the ingredients of Sudafed with Boots own brand, I naturally decided to save myself a couple of quid. Along with that I got these little vitamin C tablets... no harm with having a boost every now and then......
After reading the instructions on the back of the vitamin C bottle, it clearly stated "Take one tablet in a glass of water, once a day". Being that I was currently on the Waterloo and City line, I didn't much have a glass to hand. Did contemplate dropping it into my hiker's flask, but decided drinking a litre of orangey substance wasn't great. Then my mind decided, I'll outwit you all and swallow the damn thing. Then I decided to open the packet.. and realised why it said place into a glass of water... It was huge, about the size of a two pence piece and about half a centimetre thick. Huzzah I thought, I'll be even more cunning, I'll just pop the thing in my mouth. Worst decision ever.
Within a nanosecond, this radioactive substance started disintergrating in my mouth.... and turning into foam. And it didn't taste that great either given it was very concentrated. So my mouth was filling with a bright orange foam substance, and there I was on the tube thinking what the fuck am I meant to do. So I started swallowing it, but it just kept coming and coming and coming, I couldn't swallow fast enough. Pausing for literally a few seconds contemplating how I was to get myself out of this rather delicate situation, my mouth was bursting with foam. I looked like a squirrel that had stuffed it's cheeks with nuts. The only course of action was to keep swallowing until the damn thing had completely gone, but it was taking it's sweet time about it, and I was just feeling more and more sick. It certainly took my mind of the whole dying thing for a moment or two.
Finally I arrived at Waterloo and had finished swallowing. I realised I must of looked like I was having a heart attack on the tube, due to the element of surprise this little supplement gave me. Trying to clear out my mouth wasn't fun either.
So I trundled on through the day, wondering just when the grim reaper was about to knock in between the constant sniffing. It wasn't glamourous. I realised the day was going to end pretty quickly, and when I got home from uni, climbed into bed and refused to move, until I realised a dress I had bought in a small size was actually way too big (ahh the joys of internet shopping), and rushed down to John Lewis to get thread. Now, I like to think I know words, I know many many words. But it appeared that I didn't know the word thread or rather happened to have a mindblock at the wrong time. I blame my impending death. I was like to the extremely helpful sales assistant "My dress is too big, I need to make it smaller, I was thinking I could use that string stuff to y'know make it smaller. That stuff made of cotton, that you use to put stuff together." I was trying to describe I needed in a rather bad way, and given that I was dressed like a chav she clearly understood that I had dropped out of school at 11 and that the world had failed me. She immediately knew what I was on about, and took my over to the thread section. Yes THREAD, that's the word! Clearly she sees people like me all the time. She gave me loads of helpful advice and I went on my sweet way.
Feeling such a moron, I climbed back into bed and hoped a night of blissful sleep would come over me. It never came once. Now as I write this, I really wish death would hurry up, because two nights of no sleep isn't fun, coupled with a blocked nose and dizziness.... I have to ask myself.... wish fucker wished me to be ill!
EDIT: Ok so I wrote this article yesturday, and afterwards went on to have that vitamin C supplement. Dropped it into a glass of hot water, damn thing fizzed up everywhere and foamy crap went all over my desk. So today I thought, nah not going to let you beat me this time, and only filled the glass half full with hot water.....damn thing still managed to fizz up everywhere all over my window sill.... I feel my mugs are turning more into cauldrons than anything else....
Two nights of no sleep now, and I can feel myself going blind. Yesturday I in all honesty walked into a wall in my delerious state, as my body felt like it wasn't there. So yes it's Man Flu.
Not quite sure what to do, I bundled over to the Boots at Liverpool Street Station, and was rather overwhelmed at the shelf after shelf of cold medicine products. After comparing the ingredients of Sudafed with Boots own brand, I naturally decided to save myself a couple of quid. Along with that I got these little vitamin C tablets... no harm with having a boost every now and then......
After reading the instructions on the back of the vitamin C bottle, it clearly stated "Take one tablet in a glass of water, once a day". Being that I was currently on the Waterloo and City line, I didn't much have a glass to hand. Did contemplate dropping it into my hiker's flask, but decided drinking a litre of orangey substance wasn't great. Then my mind decided, I'll outwit you all and swallow the damn thing. Then I decided to open the packet.. and realised why it said place into a glass of water... It was huge, about the size of a two pence piece and about half a centimetre thick. Huzzah I thought, I'll be even more cunning, I'll just pop the thing in my mouth. Worst decision ever.
Within a nanosecond, this radioactive substance started disintergrating in my mouth.... and turning into foam. And it didn't taste that great either given it was very concentrated. So my mouth was filling with a bright orange foam substance, and there I was on the tube thinking what the fuck am I meant to do. So I started swallowing it, but it just kept coming and coming and coming, I couldn't swallow fast enough. Pausing for literally a few seconds contemplating how I was to get myself out of this rather delicate situation, my mouth was bursting with foam. I looked like a squirrel that had stuffed it's cheeks with nuts. The only course of action was to keep swallowing until the damn thing had completely gone, but it was taking it's sweet time about it, and I was just feeling more and more sick. It certainly took my mind of the whole dying thing for a moment or two.
Finally I arrived at Waterloo and had finished swallowing. I realised I must of looked like I was having a heart attack on the tube, due to the element of surprise this little supplement gave me. Trying to clear out my mouth wasn't fun either.
So I trundled on through the day, wondering just when the grim reaper was about to knock in between the constant sniffing. It wasn't glamourous. I realised the day was going to end pretty quickly, and when I got home from uni, climbed into bed and refused to move, until I realised a dress I had bought in a small size was actually way too big (ahh the joys of internet shopping), and rushed down to John Lewis to get thread. Now, I like to think I know words, I know many many words. But it appeared that I didn't know the word thread or rather happened to have a mindblock at the wrong time. I blame my impending death. I was like to the extremely helpful sales assistant "My dress is too big, I need to make it smaller, I was thinking I could use that string stuff to y'know make it smaller. That stuff made of cotton, that you use to put stuff together." I was trying to describe I needed in a rather bad way, and given that I was dressed like a chav she clearly understood that I had dropped out of school at 11 and that the world had failed me. She immediately knew what I was on about, and took my over to the thread section. Yes THREAD, that's the word! Clearly she sees people like me all the time. She gave me loads of helpful advice and I went on my sweet way.
Feeling such a moron, I climbed back into bed and hoped a night of blissful sleep would come over me. It never came once. Now as I write this, I really wish death would hurry up, because two nights of no sleep isn't fun, coupled with a blocked nose and dizziness.... I have to ask myself.... wish fucker wished me to be ill!
EDIT: Ok so I wrote this article yesturday, and afterwards went on to have that vitamin C supplement. Dropped it into a glass of hot water, damn thing fizzed up everywhere and foamy crap went all over my desk. So today I thought, nah not going to let you beat me this time, and only filled the glass half full with hot water.....damn thing still managed to fizz up everywhere all over my window sill.... I feel my mugs are turning more into cauldrons than anything else....
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Quick someone get me a cucumber!
For once I decided on this rather noisy night (I have DeadMau5 blaring out of an amp) I would empty my junk mail. Needless to say there was a ridiculous amount of junk emails concerning the most pressing matter of extending my penis with a so called 'penis pump'. For years one of these adverts has landed in my junk mail every day and not once have I felt the desire to open one, not even out of curiosity mainly for the fear my computer will be riddled with various slugs,snails, viruses, trojans and other annoying pests. That may not happen if I open one, but I have no interest in finding out.
Either way, a rather curious email dropped into my university address which made me think those emails weren't just a load of bullshit where you part with your well earned money, and they send you some hot peppers to rub all over your dick to make the thing swell up and therefore be all 'pumped' up.
Without going into too many specifics they were looking for volunteers (male obviously) who clearly didn't mind getting their cocks out in the name of science, to see why some men are satisfied with the size of their male organs and others not....and more importantly for people who aren't satisifed, treatments to improve their satisfaction. Anyone thinking of that Satisfaction song by Benni Benassi? Nope? Just me then.
The lucky participants would have their penis measured erect and unerect...and assuming there will be no hot nurse about, you are supplied with a porn movie for the latter part. However I'm guessing it will be a male who then measures the length and girth of your shaft, which makes me think that the second that guy walks in, that thing is going to deflate... and quickly. Oh and you get £10 for your help! For those people who aren't happy, they can receive counselling and the use of a penile extender.
All of this makes me wonder, why don't these scienists send out a junk email selling the use of a penis pump, see who responds, and those desperate enough can be included. In my opinion it kills two birds with one stone. The scientists actually get a bunch of guys who are that bothered by the size of their little man they have searched out for answers on the internet, and the men well they may actually feel like men after all the extending!
But surely aren't all men told that it's not about the length...it's what you can do with it that counts ;-)
Either way, a rather curious email dropped into my university address which made me think those emails weren't just a load of bullshit where you part with your well earned money, and they send you some hot peppers to rub all over your dick to make the thing swell up and therefore be all 'pumped' up.
Without going into too many specifics they were looking for volunteers (male obviously) who clearly didn't mind getting their cocks out in the name of science, to see why some men are satisfied with the size of their male organs and others not....and more importantly for people who aren't satisifed, treatments to improve their satisfaction. Anyone thinking of that Satisfaction song by Benni Benassi? Nope? Just me then.
The lucky participants would have their penis measured erect and unerect...and assuming there will be no hot nurse about, you are supplied with a porn movie for the latter part. However I'm guessing it will be a male who then measures the length and girth of your shaft, which makes me think that the second that guy walks in, that thing is going to deflate... and quickly. Oh and you get £10 for your help! For those people who aren't happy, they can receive counselling and the use of a penile extender.
All of this makes me wonder, why don't these scienists send out a junk email selling the use of a penis pump, see who responds, and those desperate enough can be included. In my opinion it kills two birds with one stone. The scientists actually get a bunch of guys who are that bothered by the size of their little man they have searched out for answers on the internet, and the men well they may actually feel like men after all the extending!
But surely aren't all men told that it's not about the length...it's what you can do with it that counts ;-)
Monday, 24 October 2011
Pussy Galore
Ok, so anyone who knows me knows how much I love cats. Even just thinking about them brings a huge smile to my face. I secretly wish Diana would put on two stone, because then she would be a huge ball of fluff.
So today I was in Covent Garden as I had a few hours to kill before lectures, and walking down one of the roads I saw some homeless dude with a ridiculosly tapped up guitar and....... a cat! I immediately was smiling and was soo enchanted and well as you can imagine the day was suddenly a lot better. Intrigue eventually got the better of me and I went over and started talking to the dude briefly...more an excuse to just go stroke the cat hehehe. Seriously in all my life I have never seen such a beautifully mannered cat. It was just sitting peacefully in front of it's owner amid the crazyness/busyness of Covent Garden. He seemed to perfectly happy and at peace. Turns out this cat is rather a celebrity around London. Google 'Bob the cat big issue' and you'll see what I mean....
Saturday, 22 October 2011
Heros
Well I was thinking about this the other day, for years my hero has been Jeremy Clarkson, but I recently added another name to this prestigious list, and it is *drum roll* Karl Pilkington. I in all honesty do not know why, but he is just so damn awesome. I imagine my life would be a lot more happier if my mind was like Pilkington's.
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