Erm....

Woops.

T'es un con ou quoi?

I will not be joining Twitter anytime soon. If you really want to know what I'm doing give me a ring. Or maybe even a text. Or wait til I update my Facebook status. Because I can assure you that most of the time I am doing something totally dull. Like watching a boy on stilts bounce around town almost taking out the entire market (this happened today).

I do, however, love Facebook a teeny bit too much. Mainly because you can see whole soap opera worthy sagas play out without even trying to track people. Newsfeed, you are my hilariousness. Example:

An old school friend who I haven't spoken to in years

15:57: In a relationship
16:02: It's complicated
16:07: Single

I'm not sure what I find most amusing - the fact that it takes 5 minutes for it to become apparent that your relationship just might be going down the tubes and a further 5 to confirm that you're officially dumped or the fact that she felt the need to be on Facebook updating her status during that awkward break up conversation.

Then comes the inevitable comments from people pretending to care but are really just very nosey. Luckily I don't have to comment because I am astute enough to pick up what has happened from the replies to comments. Obviously when I say astute I mean I can read.

Bunnyboy has an iPhone now. I'll admit it's pretty swish but I don't think I'll be joining the revolution anytime soon. For a start it doesn't do media messages, for a second I hear the battery life is pretty piss poor and it's just massive. I prefer to carry around a phone and an iPod and an Astroboy diary and my train ticket and then lose them all individually for 5 minutes at a time. The irony being that when we were out socially on Saturday night Bb was on social networking sites whilst being sociable. There is a man dedicated to socialising. Whilst I pour beer all over the place. That's pretty sociable too you know. So are hats. And creamy cocktails. And Ms P&B dressed up as a toy soldier. All in all, a sociable bunch. Talking about comics. And handbags.

Stumbled across Nuit Blanche whilst I was fucking around on the internet. I urge you to go to one if you have the chance. Free transport and lots of drinking whilst surrounded by madness. Te me manques, Paris.

L'encre

Joyeux Anniversaire a mon soeur

Happy birthday Tuna. It makes me happy that you thought I bought your present like that because it took me FUCKING AGES. Try to get drunk but not as drunk as I would get. X

Contente/Triste

Things that make me sad:
People pronouncing St Pancras St Pancreas. You don't arrive and find a body part that doctors still aren't quite sure what it does but what they do know is that if you cut most of it away it regenerates and for a pretty pointless body part if it gets cancer you are royally fucked in the arse.

Things that make me happy:
Arriving in to work and everyone going bananas cos there's a card that has come special delivery and it's nearly your birthday. So you open it in front of everyone to see who could possibly have sent a card to my work reallyfuckingearly and it turns out to be vouchers from a client cos you settled their case the day before \smug/

Was taking the piss out of my Mum earlier with my Dad. I'll be honest, we could go on for decades. She's a one woman show and she doesn't even know it. She called my Dad at that exact moment so my Dad answered his phone in his textbook manner - looking at the screen, hitting pick up, saying hello, then bringing it up to his mouth as he says hello, it sounds like a backwards echo - and this is what I heard

Hello

Oh

Litres. I'm putting tea towels in them. (Can I point out that I do not remember tea towels in our house. We got a dishwasher when I was teeny tiny and she went on strike til it arrived. Meaning we ate off of paper plates for 6 weeks. And I wish I was lying)

Height and depth.

Soft or hard?

So a fiver each? Jaysus. Gwan. Bye.

She still hasn't arrived home so FUCK knows what they were talking about. And I really don't think asking my Dad will shed any further light on the situation.

Watched 'Rachel Getting Married' this weekend. I enjoyed it but that is probably because I am a girl and I really enjoy a fuck up story. 'Girl, Interrupted' was not my favourite film when I was an angst teen for no reason you know. Along with 'The Bell Jar' as my book. Ann Hathaway probably deserves something for it because she succesfully manages to pull off odious little shit with a slight sense of pity very well. I imagine this is the point that BunnyBoy would say that he'll give her something. Hoho etc.

Speaking of whom - Emailed me this which he found on Twitter via Mar. Exciting

♥

Bébé

This week's highlight

Jennifer Connelly - Je t'adore

If I wake up in the morning and the, "Mlle B you've not been to work in 2 days and you have used your time wisely by putting shit up on ebay and making all sorts of wonderfulness from scratch for your family [FYI Burgers, cupcakes, meatballs & pasta, potato wedges AND cleaning up after myself. Oh my brackets inside brackets. This has gotten out of control] have some lovely clothes" fairy has stopped by then that is quite alright by me. I mean really okay.

I'd obviously cut out the shoulder pads but still....

Damn those are some shoes.

Bonne Nouvelle Année (Je suis desolée que je suis un peu en retard)

It has been too long since I have properly posted and to go through everything I have done since then would mean that we'd be here forever. And ever. An abridged version would go thusly:

Christmas
Was strangely moved by midnight mass. May have had something to do with the strangely moving vodka I guzzled all evening. Presents etc. Always pleasing. It would be mean to say which presents I liked the most so I won't. I'll just say well done M. Bladder and ma soeur.

Ended up in some sort of red wine marathon with my Father. It was an accident but when you have a magnum of red wine what are you going to do? I managed to drink him under the table. But suffered. I ended up the only one still awake at the heinous time of 8pm. Which meant I got to watch the Nativity Decoded. All 2 hours of it. In peace. On the Lord's birthday. Not just the Lord's day. His birthday. Basically, he was the bastard offspring of the victim of rape. Yeah. Imagine finding THAT out on your birthday. Thanks Channel 4. No wonder you're fucked for money. You don't cross the Big Man and get away with it.

A few days after Christmas went to the supermarket with Ma. Remember she has to be chaperoned so she doesn't end up down the whoops! aisle buying roadkill grouse cos it's reduced to £50 from £55. Or something. Obviously I wasn't doing my job properly because I was packing the bags and HOT CROSS BUNS fell in to my hands. ON THE 28TH OF DECEMBER. I was absolutely outraged. And the supermarket man knew it too. I'm not going to say the name of the supermarket. But it rhymes with Rainsburys. I was so shocked and appalled I held the offending item aloft, waving it around above my head and declared,

"HOT CROSS BUNS, HOT CROSS BUNS. THE LORD HAS JUST BEEN BORN. AT LEAST ALLOW HIM A FEW WEEKS OF GLORY BEFORE WE LOOK TO HIS UNTIMELY DEATH TO SAVE PEOPLE WHO DON'T REALLY CARE"

It was the rainsbury's man's turn to look appalled. That's right. I am a messenger for Christ.

New Year
It could be said that there was too much gin involved. Put it this way - we didn't get out of bed until 4pm. But then there is never such a thing as too much gin.

The next few days immediately post new year were spent in a most enjoyable fashion which made me sad face to get back on the train but there is no point lamenting something you have no control over. That and I started laughing every time I thought of cowtack's boyfriend eating a burger so hot he cried. And had to sign a disclaimer saying if he died no one would sue on his behalf before he ate it. Factoid.

Post New Year
I didn't go back to work til the 5th January. It was hard going back. Mainly because I've discovered I hate working. Unless it involves shopping for other people. I wouldn't mind that sort of job. But I doubt people are looking for people to spend their money for them in the middle of a credit crunch.

I'm also saving which renders me quite poor. So I'm selling stuff I hate on Ebay and rediscovering clothes I've not worn in a 100 years. It's actually quite fun. It also means I'm making demands for my birthday already. My sister is also making demands for her birthday. One necklace made of wood showing two hands put together to make a heart to be precise. When she stated she wanted it I put on my spazz voice (don't pretend you don't know what I mean) and said, "Is that cos you're deaf?". Her reply? "What?" It's the little things that make me laugh you know.

Things that I think I might do this year -

1. Learn to knit. So I can make very long scarves with pompoms on the end. And can say it's nanageddon over and over.
2. Buy a cheap sewing machine so I can buy material and make awful skirts and tops only I would wear.
3. Bake more.

Nous sommes un peu nické je pense...

Right kids lets huddle up here. I want a full and frank, off the record conversation here. Remember, we're all friends here and there is absolutely, and I mean absolutely, no judgment. Sooooo, anyone been finding God recently? Or more accurately Hubbard?

Who is this infidel that speaks of L Ron Hubbard? You must not use his name in vain before me. Infidel.

Ah Jeff. So, you're a Scientologist now?

Why yes Brett! I am! Would you have time by any chance to take our personality test? It is 3% accurate and almost always ends up with me telling you that you have to join our spaceship and give us a shitload, and I mean a shitload, of cash to save you from the crazy ones who are going to slay you the day we're all lifted out of here and to Mars so we can fuck that planet up too. God bless L Ron Hubbard. I mean, L Ron Hubbard bless L Ron Hubbard.

No Jeff. I don't have time to take a personality test cos I'm currently being fucked in the arse by our boss. So you're to blame for this Katie Holmes Miu Miu campaign then are you. Talk about shafting me when I was looking the other way.

Actually I think you'll find you weren't looking the other way, you were looking to the toilet cistern whilst you shovelled unholy amounts of bad things in to your face. Heathen.

ER YOU CAN TALK

I can talk yes. And I only take prescription drugs now that I've bought off the internet which places me several rungs above you on the ladder my friend. Heretic.

Back to the point. LOOK AT THE FUCKING STATE OF IT. She looks dead. Actually dead. I mean we managed to get away with the Madonna thing. That really old photo of her out of control bush actually vindicated us in that we couldn't remove her much older, ginger one out of shot but STILL. This is something else. Miu Miu is supposed to appeal to quirky hipsters with money to burn. Not stupid bints that have married men much, much shorter than them. That jump around on sofas. And beg for parts in Ben Stiller films to raise their awful, awful profile.

Well, the theme was apocolypse now you see. See how the background looks like the burning embers of Hell? That's no conincidence. That'll be her face when the spaceship comes. Gentile.

But she looks like a fembot.

Yeah. I think Tom is looking for a part in the next Mike Myers film.

I swear to God Jeff. The next time I see you you'd better be in a k hole so fucking deep that I can't reach you cos I'll batter the shit out of you. What's the next shit you're gonna come up with? That other stupid cow that Holmes is attempting to emulate....

Victoria Beckham. Pagan.

....yeah her, photoshopped to ras in her underwear in some bizarre passive agressive ad campaign against her husband.

Huuuummmmmm.