Wednesday, 25 March 2009

Dear Kitty

It seems like just recently I have been surrounded by diary's, no I have not been searching thought my mothers hidden draws looking for a beautifully decorated book, full of her deepest darkest secrets/embarrassing photos/criminal past? They are just every where ... I guess Twitter is a kind of Diary, according to wikipedia: Twitter is a social networking and micro-blogging service that enables its users to send and read other users' updates, known as tweets. Tweets are text-based posts of up to 140 bytes in length..." BLAH, BLAH, BLAH – you get the gist.All you need to know is that the big three are on it: Obama, Britney and Stephen Fry, basically everyone who matters. Twitter gives you a fascinating insight into the inner workings of their minds, their deepest fears, hopes for the future, evaluation of past mistakes. (I'm kidding, they post unreasonably banal sentences about potentially interesting things. Apart from Fry, who always finds time to say something awesome, such as: "Watching proboscis monkeys feed. My dear, the noise...".

It seems like even all my books I have recently read seem to be about peoples journals, (yes I'm a big reader, but don't hold that against me) Cynthia Lennon, I'm with the band, So when do you realise that your life is so important that you have to write it down, is it when you are in your 60s and you get asked to recall your life, you thank god that you wrote down all those Witty antidotes, and you get to brag about how amazing you life was, how you were very naive but you loved every second. It seems to write a good diary you need to be married to a rock star or become a Groupie and have it off with a rock star then write about how bad they were, and how you ran away from your strict 1950s upbringing and become a flower child. Both these options sound very appealing to me, and I do sometimes wish I was Cynthia Lennon or Pamela Des Barres, but come on my life is not nearly going to be as eventful as theirs. If I kept a diary it would probably read :

"Went to school, I am suffering from growing pains (ouch) stayed after school,
FUN !! "
and even that would be riddled with spelling mistakes (thank god for spellcheck) and it would surrounded by drawings of anchors and birds and the odd scribbled poem, I admire my brother and that he can by a pad of paper and fill it with rubbish, when all I can muster is my name written over twenty times, but it is in my best handwriting.

So when I decide to get a life I am going to go out and buy a leather bound journal, and in years to come it shall be full of brilliant tales, postcards and photos. Well one can dream x

Monday, 23 March 2009

“I like The Beatles, and You like The Stones. But those are just records that our parents owned.”

Dear Luella Bartley,

How do you know what I want to wear a whole season before I do ...


Wednesday, 18 March 2009

The Challenge Part 1

Today I was set the task of writing about certain items;
1)Prom dates and when you should realise that they don't want to go with you
2)Prison and that I will be sent there for stealing a little Chinese girl
3)And finally someone should do a remix of "Single ladies" and call it "Single ladles"
As you can tell it's been strange day.
Yes I'm going to talk about prom again, sorry, and the subject ... dates. Now I don't know why I was given this subject, as I would be the last person to talk about dates "rendezvous" to, It seems that whenever I get into an awkward situation I suddenly develop tourettes, coming out with embarrassing and inappropriate antidotes, like a granny who has had to many whiskey's I should be placed in the corner and given a glass of water and left to sober up.
Having recently celebrated a friends birthday we went to see the motion picture "He's just not that into you" a film that felt like it was made to make women paranoid, but apparently according to the synopsis it deals with "the challenges of reading or misreading human behavior" thus leading to "Prom dates and when you should realise that they don't want to go with you". Obviously knowing nothing on this subject, I googled it and the first thing I found was: "What To Do If Your Prom Date Isn't Great" this title made me giggle so I will post their advise.

Just Smile:
So you didn't land your dream date? Tough luck. Even if you
ended up with the token class geek, never let your prom date know that he or she
wasn't your first choice. You're stuck with each other for one short evening, so
plaster on a genuine smile and play nice.
Keep Those Lips Sealed:
Avoid whispering to your best friend that your prom date is "so boring, you'd rather
be at home watching Grey's Anatomy reruns." In fact, it would be a good idea to
refrain from trash-talking your date until after prom. Or, better yet, never.
Dance, Dance:
There is no unwritten rule in the "Book of Prom"
requiring you to stick by your date's side throughout the night. Don't feel
guilty about letting loose on the dance floor with your friends, but save one
slow song for your prom date as a kind "thanks" for putting up with
Friendly Reminder:
If your prom date is lovestruck - but the
feelings aren't mutual - make it clear that though you're grateful for the prom
date, your relationship is strictly platonic. Do not follow this friendly
reminder by making out with your off-again, on-again sweetheart on the dance
floor. No kissy face allowed until you and your date part ways
Yes that is John Lennon using an oscilloscope, obviously
Til tomorrow x

Tuesday, 17 March 2009

"When you're drowning, you don't say 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,' you just scream"
John Lennon

Sunday, 15 March 2009

Prom/Ball/Gala/Dance I like the sound of Promenade

If you walk around school next week and mention the word "prom" to any group of year 11 girls, you will be greeted by high pitched squeals, arms being flung around each other, jumping up and down as they congratulate each other on their resent purchases. Yes it seems that this past week people, sorry I mean girls, have started to look for their outfits for the "night of the year". I am sorry if I don't sound that excited, its just the hype, the big build up, and the effort put in to finding The dress, yes at this moment in time it seems like I am the only one who yet to find the right attire. It's not that I am that picky, or snobbish (well actually I am, I will be the first one to laugh at the girl who quotes her style icon as Katie Price (above). Its just ... I'm lazy and polyester makes me feel sick, metaphorically of course, we all know that tequila makes me suffer from serious bouts nausea. If I wanted to look like Miss Price up there, all I would have to do is ask my grandfather to make a trip up to the attic, where he would bring down a suitcase filed under the "80's", I would then happily prance around like Joan Collins in dynasty (below) listening to "feed the world", just one big 80's stereo type.
I need some help, I don't even know where to start, what website to go on, whats the maximum I should spend ... all this pressure, I think I will just cover myself in glue and run into Jordan's wardrobe, what ever sticks stays x

Thursday, 12 March 2009

Mammy Mammy Blue

"With his avuncular appearance and rich baritone, African-born British pop singer Roger Whittaker seemed like a late successor to Bing Crosby when he emerged into worldwide popularity in the 1970s. Although his initial hits were self-written, he quickly turned largely to interpretive singing as he recorded prolifically. With the front line of the popular music business dominated by young performers playing pop-rock, he and his music soon encountered resistance from radio and the music press. Also, the U.S. was one of the last regions of the world to acknowledge him, and he never focused primarily on America, resulting in an underestimation of his stardom stateside, where he was thought of as a one-hit wonder for “The Last Farewell." But he maintained a large following in Europe and the Far East where he performed frequently, resulting in sales that were estimated at 40 million albums worldwide by the early 1990s."-

One day while getting ready for school I turned on my television and watched GMTV, a daily occurrence, I was busying my self; brushing hair, eating breakfast, doing homework which should have been done 2 days before. When an amazing sound came booming out of the T.Vs speakers, it was an advert for "the best of Roy Whittaker". I have had many of an old man crush before; Ian Smith aka Harold Bishop, Roy Walker. But this man singing the infamous line "OH MAMMY MAMMY BLUE !" which made me burst out into an embarrassing fit of laughter, and as soon as the advert appeared it was gone. I carried on with the rest of my day until one English lesson I was at the computer, and out loud I started humming the tune to this legendary song, filling in between the odd hum was me doing my best Whittaker impression of "Mammy Blue". And so the craze/phase was born, we stopped our "Inspector Calls" coursework, who cared about that bloody inspector anyways, I jumped on wikipedia and read about this strange man that I'd never heard of before this morning.

Roger Whittaker your trademark might be your whistling ability, but "Mammy Mammy Blue" is a tune and a half x

Wednesday, 11 March 2009

My Terrible Trim

I was recently wondering around the web, trying to decide how to have my hair cut, plodding through the same websites like I had done six weeks previous hoping for this amazing coiffured woman to jump out the screen, begging me to have my hair cut like her, but proving to no avail I was undecided on how to have it cut, go short or grow it out, these two scenarios kept going through my mind since a week earlier when my mother told me it was time for it to be cut. I was sat in the chair and asked the dreaded question “so how do you want it” going round in my mind was the image of me with short wispy hair circa 2007, which I might add I was very fond of at the time but I was very conscious that my ears, the size of dinner plates, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, were visible to everybody I spent most of time wearing a hat as I cant bear the cold, or on the other hand let it grow out to that plain Jane length, neither long nor short. In the end I squeaked, “Do what you like!” My hair has been the source of much displeasure ever since I decided to go back on my promise never to grow it long again.
But this time I was going to be prepared, I sat down and watched “Darling” and I decided that I wanted to look like Julie Christie, all pouting lips and I want cute little bows in my hair, I want to grow my hair longer, have a heavy fringe and slide my hair into a little beehive. This look I will call a Beatles Girlfriend, (yes around this time I had accidentally watched “A hard days night” and my obsession began with the fab four. The 60s was the decade for me, all the leather, minis, and eyeliner combined with free love and dirty rockers? I'm not sure any decade will ever be as iconic) so I sat down on my computer searching for the perfect picture of Julie Christie, and so perched at my PC my head flipped through these pointless events that lead to my perfect hairdo and the next question …
To dye or not to dye. x

25 Things I Hate

Surely it's a rather cringey and self-indulgent way for people to pass the time, sharing 'fascinating' truths about themselves which would otherwise have gone unnoticed by all their friends. Who the hell cares if you make great soup or were born in Tahiti? It's indicative of how self-centred we have all become these days. And yet, and yet... the more people took part in it, and the more of their lists I read, the more absorbed I became.
And so, like a mindless sheep following the social networking herd, I thought I'd allow you too,a sneak peek into the embarrassing inner workings (or rather, the mindless ramblings) of my brain (I think that this is a good way to pop my blogging cherry), by telling you about all the things I hate. I think there 25 facts that everybody needs to know.

1. I hate that at the moment U2 are everywhere, Bono's a scary man

2. I hate that I cant afford anything Luella

3. I hate that I can only ever manage to consume an inch of coffee.

4. I hate that I know most lof the lyrics to Ricky Martins, Living la vida loca off by heart, but very few by The Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff, even though I look it upon YouTube daily to practise, so that I can wow people at karaoke.

5. I hate that I get nervous about using phones

6. I hate that Janet Jackson lied, because the best things in life aren't free. Just look at Chanel.

7. I hate that I'm rushing this list so I can go and eat some cake.

8. I hate that I am forever buying stationery and yet never have anything to write on, or with.

9. I hate that I just had to look up how to spell "stationery" without it meaning I'm standing still, especially because I was right the first time.

10. I hate that I'm worried you'll think this note is incredibly childish.

11. I hate people who mix up "their" and "there" and "too" and "to" in text messages.

12. I hate that I love twiglets and hate marmite

13. I hate bright colours.

14. I hate not having a head for hats.

15. I hate that I hate people who wear fur even though I am happy to wear leather.

16. I hate that by this point the word "hate" has become less powerful, because I really mean it. When I say I hate Jane Norman.

17. I hate that I can't balance a cat on my shoulder while riding a bike.

18. I hate that I still can't speak fluent French, or any French which is actually useful.

19. I hate that all anybody talks about at the moment is Slumdog Millionaire or the credit crunch.

20. I hate that I'm struggling to think of five more.

21. I hate that I am not old enough to Drink/Drive. Not at the same time of course.

22. I hate being cold but I always, always am.

23. I hate Baby Ballroom.

24. I hate that hairdressers always lie about how much they'll take off.

25. I hate that whenever I eat Bread I have hiccups