Monday, March 30, 2009

Tim Walker + Karen Elson + Tim Burton + Helena Bonham Carter + Roald Dahl = Best Thing Ever




Je suis pas jaloux

Man sits at train station. Man shows girlfriend shiny new iPhone. Man expounds on how iPhone is best phone ever. Man puts iPhone back in box on his lap. Train arrives. Man stands up. iPhone on the floor. 

Fucking hilarious. Fact. 

Saturday, March 28, 2009

La Porte

At least I'm fully aware of just how behind popular culture I am...

Monday, March 23, 2009

Je l'ai trouvé

Just found this on my computer. There are always japes aplenty when me and BunnyBoy go Christmas shopping....mainly cos I need to show him the way of the Boots 3 for 2 deals for family that you have to buy for even though you really can't afford it. 

I like this photo for many reasons: 

1 - They feel obligated to have a section in Waterstones now called Painful Lives. 
2 - Someone wasn't touched by evil once, know they were touched twice. Hence the different covers. 
3 - Daddys Little Earner. That's not a painful life. That is *my* life. Why do you think he invested so much in my education? So I can keep the parental units in the lifestyle they have become accustomed to. 

On va faire du leche-vitrine


Having denied myself the usual crazy shopping blow outs, I'm torn. Do I buy these brilliant tights that will ultimately ladder and will never really bring me joy because I can't see the backs of my legs...or Love Blows for the princely sum of £25 including p&p. 

Tricky, vaaaaary tricky. 

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Voleur

I'm a bit confused. Did The Sunday Times actually nick the satirical A Peek at the Diary of... part of the Saturday Guardian this week?

I'm not sure if it was the up for 13 hours, only eaten a wrap or the writing of the author but I was in a book shop today and I actually almost passed out. And this isn't an exaggeration. And I know that I am prone to them. I'm Irish. I can't help it. The point being I have an awful habit of picking up a book in a book shop and opening it and starting to read. If I like what I read then it's a done deal. The book today was Wetlands. Of late I've been starting a lot of sentences with, "I'm not a feminist but...", which makes me worry that the lady doth protest too much. Sorry. Back in the room. So I pick it up because the girl that wrote it has been all over the press because it's so shocking. I prepare to not really be that shocked in the grand scheme of things because this is the woman that was a hypothetical promoter for Pete's Bang Cupboard and periodically checks the internet of late to make sure Jade Goody is still alive. I was not expecting it to be quite so graphic about the fact that the 18 year old protagonist has no arse. As in, something along the lines of, I was surprised to see that there was no evidence of a sphincter, was written. I genuinely shit you not (see what I did there) I actually almost puked in the shop. Which is very unbecoming of a lady. Needless to say, the deal was not done. (I remind myself a bit of Alan Partridge there)

Found possibly the last pair of cream/red lady dragon heart Vivienne Westwood shoes in London today. In my size. I put them on and walked around the shop and then took them off again and put them back in the box. And put them back where I found them. And walked away. I left a little part of me in that box today. A very small part of me.

It's probably for the best though. They smell of bubblegum and my new game when I'm drunk is forcing complete strangers to smell my shoes. I'm quite the drunk so I imagine people comply. I couldn't say for sure for obvious reasons. Those reasons that I'm a "rowdy". Which on reflection I don't mind. It's a fairly accurate description. Rowdy in a lovely way I am sure. Because I am a lady.

To try and get over the trauma I then went and found the below:


Because it's like this. If I can't buy a pair of glorified jelly shoes for £80 then I WILL go out and find a pair of shoes that I will covet even more for £220.

You may be dubious. You are a fool if you are, but you might just be. But rest assured in real life they are the most beautiful shoes ever. And where would I wear them? To work. Obviously. Because sometimes you need a pair of total fuck me heels to jazz up that black suit. Oh and for you to get your own way.

I managed to walk away from these ones too. It was slightly easier seeing as they were double the price but still. It has been known for me to have a shopping frenzy crisis where I spend more money than necessary on things that I really don't need. Like mats with pictures of owls on them (I didn't actually buy it but I was so tempted) Also, if I put it in to context my next big purchase is a new digital camera next month. Which costs less than those shoes. See. That, my friends, is fucking context. Damn you context, damn you to Hell.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Decals


I'm not sure what one is....but they sure look pretty.

Am going to Brighton for my 21st this weekend. Two things are certain:

a - I will have a brilliant time
b - I won't want to come home

But I guess if I lived down there all the time the folly of fun times would overwhelm me and I'd end up poorer in mind, body, spirit and funds. But maybe a small price to pay for the hospital based anecdotes.

In other news my Dad found a sewing machine in the attic (another story for another time) this weekend. Which renders his incessant weekend hammering and throwing things down the stairs at obscene times slightly more acceptable. We'll see if it works. It's just waiting to be plugged in...but I have more important things to be doing like looking at the internets. I look back at my youthful 13 year old self who didn't pay attention in textiles as she thought that sewing was pointless in an age of Topshop and want to smack her around the head with a big roll of wundaweb and tell her that her textile ADD means that this is what I have become. Oh well. On the upside I make a fucking brilliant roast.

On va danser ensemble


I hate you Lady GaGa. I hate your stupid glasses and your inability to keep your clothes on in the name of being kooky. However, I can empathise with you. In fact, I suspect that perhaps you've ripped off my typical night out and written about it to try and make yourself cool.

Exhibit A:


I've had a little bit too much
Obviously. You can't have fun unless totally inebriated/intoxicated.

All of the people start to rush
(Start to rush by)
See above. They're not actually rushing by. That's you falling towards the floor because you can't stand up anymore.

A dizzy twister dance
The twister dance! That's how you pick up boys right? Am I right?

Can't find my drink or man
You can't find your drink because you've drank it. And you can't find a man because you're a fucking disgrace.

Where are my keys, I lost my phone
I'm not even joking. The above line actually is my life. Sorry Monsieur B.

What's going on on the floor?
Nothing. The room is spinning. You're actually looking at the wall.

I love this record baby
You love EVERYTHING. You're FUCKED.

But I can’t see straight anymore
Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?
Your poor, poor friends

I can't remember but it's alright, alright

Just dance, gonna be okay
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, spin that record babe
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, gonna be okay
Duh-duh-duh-duh
Dance, dance, dance
Ju-ju-ju-just dance
How many times have you been told to dance it off? "Don't worry, she'll dance it off. Just don't give her anything else"

Wish I could shut my playboy mouth
There's a million things I could say here. All rude. But what immediately springs to mind is blow jobs and swearing.

How'd I turn my shirt inside out?
You know that man you couldn't find? Yeah, well you're really desperate for some attention from *anyone* now
(Inside out right)
No. It's just inside out. And it looks silly

Control your poison babe
Oh right. You're starting to run out so you're trying to make it last. I get ya. Clever girl

Roses with thorns they say
I just don't know about this

And we're all gettin' hosed tonight
Bringing this back to they playboy bit...I'm absolutely certain that you're just being plain rude. And you're embarrassing yourself and you're embarrassing all your friends too. Put your clothes back on, the RIGHT way around and just leave with what is left of your dignity

What's going on on the floor?
I love this record baby
But I can’t see straight anymore
Keep it cool, what's the name of this club?
I can't remember but it's alright, alright

Just dance, gonna be okay
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, spin that record babe
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, gonna be okay
Duh-duh-duh-duh
Dance, dance, dance
Ju-ju-ju-just dance
You're repeating yourself now

When I come through on the dance floor checkin' out that catalogue
So you're not really at a club are you? You're at an Ann Summers' party

Can’t believe my eyes so many women without a flaw
They're photoshopped

And I ain’t gonn' give it up, steady tryna pick it up like the car
That's not English.

I'mma hit it, I'mma hit it and flex until the 'til done until tomorr' yeah
Oh dear. This is clearly the beginning of the end

Show me I can see that you got so much energy
Ah yes. But look at her septum

The way you twirling up them hips round and round
Ah yes. But look at her septum

There’s no reason, I know why you can’t leave here with me
Ah yes. But look at her septum

In the meantime stand, let me watch you break it down
Ah yes. But look at her septum

Just dance, gonna be okay
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, spin that record babe
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, gonna be okay
Duh-duh-duh-duh
Dance, dance, dance
Ju-ju-ju-just dance

I’m psychotic sync hypnotic
I got my blue burners and phonic
I’m psychotic sync hypnotic
I got my brand electronic
I’m psychotic sync hypnotic
I got my blue burners and phonic
I’m psychotic sync hypnotic
I got my brand electronic
Okay deary. You're making absolutely no sense now so this is the point in the night where we all go to the kebab house and you lurch around screaming for a donor with extra chilli sauce that you won't remember you ate the next morning but you'll think that it *might* have happened because you have a mouth that tastes a bit like an armpit. Or it might be due to that hosing you had

Go, use your muscle comin' out work it hustle
Fallen on hard times eh? Don't sell yourself. Think about women all over the world

I got it, just stay close enough to get it
Sweet Jesus

Go slow, drive it, clean it
Christ almighty

Like so clean it’s been molesto
I'm not sure because I don't think this is a real word but I'm guessing that molesto is something that you have made very, very clean. With your mouth.

I got it, and your popped coll'
I've just raised my eyebrows

Just dance, gonna be okay
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, spin that record babe
Da-doo-doo-doo
Just dance, gonna be okay
Duh-duh-duh-duh
Dance, dance, dance
Ju-ju-ju-just dance

So. I rest my case.