Okay, so having plundered new lows in alcoholism, I am off the source.
Not permanently, obviously, just for the mean time.
Woke up with:
A) Hangover
B) Black eye
C) Bashed/bruised head
D) Complete lack of dignity
E) Broken bracelet ¬_¬
Got absolutely WASTED, and appaz hit my eye on a bedpost?
Ha, I'm sobering up. Hmm, need another drink.
I'm not drunk.
I'm really not drunk.
Hmm, I'm just a bit tipsy.
BAM
Woahh, BLeurgh, am drunk.
Can't walk.
My neighbour thought it would be funny to sing the Rocky Theme at me whilst I walked down the road. ¬_¬
Emo outbursts, excessive drinking, screaming, crying and throwing up really aren't impressive, esp. when you barely know the people.
My GOD, never again. Black eye is pretty horrendous too. I almost resemble a battered wife.
"Okay so why do I have a black eye!?"
"It's not... it's just makeup I think, try and rub it off.."
"IT'S NOT COMING OFF!?!?!"
Blue is the new black dahhhling, the battered house wife look is hot this season, you too can reach this level of chic; I'll start a trend. Soon all the girls of East London can black their eyes to look like me.
Could be worse.
My Colombian mate:
"So... I've thrown up on maself on the bus, THREE times this summer, on different occasions. This one time the woman tutted, I turn around with vomit on ma face and I'm like WHAT?"
OKAY yalla moving on.
Been out every night this week :)
First lecture today.
Global economics of international development.
DOESN'T THAT SOUND FUN?
Lecture tomorow at 9am; even bettah! Only have to rise at 7am, which is incidentally less than 5 hours away from here.
I always wished I could be a Russian Doll. A red one. With a big pair of bright blue eyes and painted on eyelashes and pink rosy cheeks. Really rosy. And my mouth would be painted on red like a bow. I’d have a flower on my chest - a rose - and two small little hands by my side. And then I could be un wrapped, two, three, four times until I was small. Really small.
What's the obsession with being skinny? From all of us, every single one of us. It's like the one thing that unites us - the desire to be skinny, tiny, cadaverous, thin.
Why? It's senseless, it's as though we didn't have enough problems so we made ourselves one. The sex war is over, women have equal rights, now we need a new problem - lets all starve ourselves.
It's a trend propagated by women, for women. No matter how many times you see men saying that they don't mind 'a bit of meat on the bones', you still want to be skinny. It's more chic to be skinny, it's more beautiful, more haute couture. I always hated being busty, because it stops me being skinny and makes me 'curvy', and who the **** wants to be curvy, it's just a synonym for fat. If someone called me stupid or ugly, it's like whatever, like I care, I know I'm not.. But if someone called me fat I'd become really obsessive about it.
In fact whenever I'm drunk I normally get really emo about it. My friends always tell me I'm not fat at all, and I'm being ridiculous, but it doesn't make a difference. Tbh I'm horrendously average, someone said one of my profile pics looked anorexic (lies), but it doesn't matter. I feel massively overweight, all the time. But why? From a medical POV I'm pretty normal. And this applies to all of us; we're always trying to be skinnier and skinnier, as though the smaller you are, the more you're worth.
I always feel like my life would be so much better if I was a stone lighter, no matter how many times people tell me I'm 'fine' I still feel obese. Everyday I look in the mirror, not at my face, but at my stomach. Is it any flatter? Is it any rounder? Whenever someone tells me I'm not fat I just think they're stupid, cause I know what I look like.
Do my thighs look okay in this? Is this okay? Are you sure? But look at that? No I don't think so.. a few weeks ago I left my house for 5 mins, then came back because I felt too fat. That's ******* ridiculous. I know I'm not fat, but I also know I'm fat. Honestly I could cry sometimes.
This applies to all of you, wtf is this about? It's anti-feminist imo, we fight each other instead of men. We compete against each other, the skinniest girl wins.
I even have friends go on Coke binges so they could not eat for 3 or so days and not feel hungry.
Honestly, don't you think it's all out of hand and it's just ridiculous? And the worst thing is people die to remain skinny. Actually die.
Friday, 25 September 2009
Okay, I've calmed down, made French toast and burnt my finger.
Fucking joy.
In better news: I spent all my wages in Topshop yday.
Well almost.
Only problem is I haven't *actually* been paid yet.
Whoops.
I used to love Daft Punk. LOVE.
Then I somehow forgot all about them.
Some amazing tunes for you.
ILY.
I swear, the longer I spend in this house with that woman, the more I want to scream.
Honestly, I can't stand being here. I hate her, him. Both of them. I can't stand them.
I hate everything about them. Everything.
The more I'm here the more I could just die.
AEBGFJFHJ
I can't even verbalise this, I just want to scream and rail and break something, but I can't. So I'm just writing it on here, excwept I don't even have the vocabulary to say it.
I hate her. Everything about her. I can't STAND my mother.
All I can do is cry as I write this, God the more I'm here the more frustrated I get.
I HATE HER.
I was so looking forward to her coming back, srsly.
Ffs, I can't even think of anything to say because everything is clouded by
I HATE HER.
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
So I was washing my hair, and I a bunch of half empty and used bottles, and it occurred to me – I have like an obsession with shampoo.
I buy loads of brands and types of Shampoo, Shampoo and conditioner, conditioner.. why?It’s like a quest, if I could just find the one shampoo that could make my hair shiny and glossy comme sur le television.
If I could just find this one bottle, I would have amazing hair.Ofc it doen’t exist, my hair is dead, almost like my personality.Joy.
You know what else I’m obsessed with?Text messages.I hate deleting things from my inbox.It’s like tangible evidence that you have friends.Something you can look back on when you’re alone, like hey people liked me once.. or just memories I guess.The first text in my phone is from Jan 4th of this year, from A, asking me if I was coming round to hers on Friday to go to a club night thing.Then it jumps to March ‘what are you doing on a boat???’.My inbox is like a photo album, only the stuff that reminds me of good times stays.Or maybe texts from certain people too - isn’t that like everyone though?I sometimes read them when I feel sad, whatever, my inbox only has 100 spaces though every day I have to delete more and more and it’s sad, because it’s like deleting a memory to make space for new memories.It’s like erasing the past I guess, there will be a time when I have to delete all A’s texts to make room for new stuff.
Last night I heard the British Philarmonic orchestra playing the Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana. That probably means nothing to you, I'll show you:
Yeah, that, you know it right? It's pretty well known I think, actually maybe not - I always recognise
obscure pieces I like it - it's optimistic. It's beautiful and bright a
nd happy.
I've never watched an orchestra - I always play in them, always in them - I never watch them. I didn't
like it - whenever I hear something Orchestral I wish I was involved. And I'm always slightly jealous - I wish I played more when I was younger. Oh well - we can't change the past right? Isn't that the worst thing about life? All the knowledge you gain is useless; you can't give it to your younger self, you can't advise yourself in the past, you're stuck wishing you'd known better, wishing you had been more shrewd and wishing you could go back and change it all.
Anyway, this reminded me of another piece I know; La Tristetezza D'inverno. It's Italian, as I'm sure you can see - it's a Mandolin solo.
It's awesome but melancholy, beautiful and sad, depression a
nd bliss, a load of other oxymorons.
I liked it because it always reminds me
of Palestine - I don't know why, we don't
really have mandolins in Palestine, but
this just reminds me of everything good
and great about my country. Not the
terrorist, not Hamas, not el naqba,
but the land and trees and sea and
olives and people and coffee and
homous and bread and dust and
holy oil and sand and hills and trees
and Getsemanhe.
Anyway - how did I hear the orchestra? I've been doing barwork at the Tower of London. Yes - inside the tower. I sell beer on top of the spot Anne Boleyn had her head chopped off. How awesome is that? Newton discovered gravity at the tower too, built by the Norman King William (after Hastings 1066) in order to protect himself from the English peasants/foreigners vying for the throne.
Yeah, that's £3.50 please. One Kronenburg and a London pride - that's £7.60 please and would you like ice with your Cider?
I gave a drunk woman a load of tequila shots.
"I'M ONLY 21 AND I'VE NEVER DONE TEQUILA BEFORE"
"Well I'm 19 and I've done it loads. Salt, shot, lime".
"Whaaat?"
"Salt, shot lime. GO GO GO."
"Probably shouldn't encourage drinking but meh."
"Thankyou for being lovely, girl with big puppies".
...
Yeah.
She kept trying to buy me a shot, but no, no, can't drink whilst I'm working, sorry.
A man gave me a £5 tip today, and asked me to keep it to myself. Recently really
strange things have been happening; people are being horrendously nice to me, and horrendously horrible.
Someone stole my tips at work - what a low life thing to do. I'm absolutely broke - it costs me £4 to get to
and back from the Tower. Tbh I need my tips, don't even get paid for ages... I'm ranting to my friend, guy overhears, puts £10 in my bag.
"Noo, I can't accept this! Take it backkk!"
"I know what it's like to be barstaff, that's really horrid. Take it!"
"I can't, my boss would shoot me"
"Just accept it!"
Then he walked off before I could give it back.
I guess some people really are nice?
The next day I was buying lunch (brah I'm rich - £10 tips!), I'm in the queue, I'm waiting to queue
"I'll pay for the girl as well"
"Ehhh wut?"
"Don't worry about it - it's nothing to me"
"No, srsly it's fine"
Then the (restaurant guy?) took his money and paid for my food.
Hahaha I'm loaded. He didn't even try to chat me up too much. How strange. People are throwing money at me - I feel like a lapdancer.
Okay move on to the next day, I'm at the tube station, going down the stairs, minding my own business. There's a girl in front of me. So? So nothing. I'm walking down the stairs, she's directly infront of me.
Guy next to me: "WHY THE FUCK YOU LOOKIN' AT MY GIRLFRIEND? I LOOK AFTER MY GIRL, WHAT THE FAAAACK YOU LOOKING AT?"
Erm... okay.
I didn't even answer. Tbh, I didn't even know what he was talking about. W.T.F?
He stormed in front of me, took his girls hand and they walked down the rest of the stairs and across the platform. I didn't even see her face. He's turning, he looks at me, he points, "look at that faaaacking lesbian".
W.T.F? Was I hitting on his girlfriend? I was walking down the stairs - am I a threat? Do I look threatening? Wearing my work clothes, flat shoes, shit hair - I'm a threat? Absolutely no idea, heh, maybe he was coked up, all shifty as fuck.
Whatevs. Later that night I saw this guy hitting his girlfriend quite alot and screaming at her. Spread the love people! Love makes the World go round, a rasta guy in Sweden told me that. He also told me his babymama was Jewish and
that Hippocrates learnt his medicine from a black person, and would you like anymore banana cake?
I have a chamber recital next week - I'm not that chavvy.
Today I got quite drunk at work - sorta afterworks drinks, except we're the barstaff so it's awesome. I got drunk in the tower of London - then some beefeaters shifted us out because it's incredibly illegal to be on the Queens Property out of hours. Whoopsy.
I was drunk, and had to navigate my way home on the tube. I almost missed my stop, bought a minging chicken wrap and had a conversation about Jordan's rapist on the tube with a 15 year old probably more drunk than me.
I came home "hey mum, i'm well tipsy and would you like some chicken?"
Actually my mum had drunk 5 beers and was in a worse state than me.
LOVE YOU MUMMMM.
Yahh. Recounting the day. Fuck all especially interesting has happened in the last week tbh. But did you know Scotch is simply Scottish whiskey? I thought it was a drink in its own right. Oh dear..
And Soju is the third biggest (alcoholic) drink drunk in the World? I hate Soju; me and Jess got pretty KO'd on that stuff this summer, staggered back home and crashed in my bed (though she lived around 3 mins from my house).
It's Korean btw, absolute poison imo.
Btw - do you know any good ways to stop yourself talking when you're drunk? I told the till operator he looked like an oddly fanciable Jesus. Great. There's a pubcrawl next week where my attendance is not only expected but required >_<. Rather not make a complete fuckwit of myself in front of the iccle newbie freshers.
Monday, 14 September 2009
Fuck. I think I've become boring.
Quick, reasuure me this isn't true.
Fact of the day - my wisdom tooth is coming through again.
Negative - can't eat sans pain.
Positive - less inclined to eat. Less eating = Win.
On the penultimate night in my hostel, 2 Swedish guys and a Finn with no hands invaded our room. 8th century AD all over again.
We were half asleep (Me and 3 other girls from my old Sixth form), when there was a bang. I go. I open the door.
"Hej" Barge in.
Lol okay..
One of them was around 6'5. He was 35, from Gothenburg city, a rock enthusiast with waist length blonde hair. There's 2 beds and 1 bunk bed; 3 guys, 3 places to sit. Fab.
One friend gets the Finn with no hands, the other gets the friend, I get the Viking king himself. "Erm, I'm really tired." TAKE A HINT TAKE A HINT TAKE A HINT TAKE A HINT
This guy is impervious. "It'd be really nice to lie down with you" "Can you plait my hair?" "You're lovely... you're awesome... you're lovely... you're awesome... you're lovely without makeup" "Your hair's so soft".
Meanwhile the friend is hitting on my friend hard. I'm sitting in bed, covering up my shorts, with him putting his hand on my hip "Hahaha... no" He tries to feel my arse "Hahahaha... no" "Okay now I'm embarassed. I'm really embarassed. I didn't mean to do that, it just felt good".
Okay. Really. Time to go. NOW.
The Finn with no hand (his name is Felix, he's been in jail twice for graffiti, and he's 21) has left already, so it's just us and the Swedes.
"I think you should go." "But this is so much fun" "Go" "But-" "Go"
The friend tries to engage in a discussion about Baroque music. No thanks. "I dislike Baroque because I don't like the harpsichord. And no humming Vivaldi doesn't make you look cultured. Kk bye"
No one in Sweden actually takes drugs. Or perhaps they do, and they don't sell? Apparently pills are rare in Scandinavia, so no one takes them. A chav at a D'n'B night offered me speed for 300 Kronar. We declined. The closest I got to drugs was a few tokes of a spliff from the same chav at the same place. Btw, D'n'B in Sweden = remixed UK grime. No I don't know why either, the whole night was 'raving' in a tent listening to 'Some people fink I'm bonkers' with a bassline. Hmmm.
Anyway
I opened the door to a portaloo toilet.
Oh, sorry. Someone in here..
Wait what did I just see?
LOL there's someone doing coke in there.
Whoops.
There's definitely drugs in Sweden. :\
Lol at doing coke in a toilet. I've never done that. Gross.
Actually.. I have :S Oh well, lol at doing coke in a PORTALOO. Definitely haven't done that.
Cause I'm a classy girl.
Going well off topic.
The D'n'B scene in Stockholm is dead. No worries, I was drunk for most of that night, I don't remember *that* much.
On another night, someone fell on my face.
Or maybe the right verb is jumped.
Don't know don't know don't care.
I was drunk. Shitfaced rather. There were lazers. It was Major Lazer (He was in Annie Mac's mashup once). I'm completely out of it, and someone from the stage decided to crowd surf. Heads up; DON'T do it unless people are gonna catch you. No one caught him, he fell on me. I'm lying on the floor, wasted, there's a Swedish man on my face, stepping in my hair. Ug wtf. Why am I on the face? OUCH. Did I just get kicked on the nose? I am way too out of this. I smashed a bottle and cut my hand, whilst one of my friends threw up tequila and the other got off with a randomer. Fuck what you say, we *are* classy girls.
About an hour later me and my friend had seperated from our other friends, were sitting at a bus stop on the wrong island in Stockholm, without jackets, waiting for a bus we couldnt remember, to a place we couldnt name, at around 4 in the morning. Oh dear.
I got loads of drunken confessions
"So, like, I went to Proud galleries with this guy who was just like fucking Russel Brand, so sexed up, and he kept groping me, and I went back to his and ..................................................."
"Wait wut... when was this??"
"I tell people it's 2 but it's actually 5"
Oh.
:o
"You know what, the first time I met you.................... "
Eeek.
ALCOHOL. Isn't it great?
_________________________________________________
Transcript from a conversation a few weeks ago:
Him: i recall u get really really pissed that someone had stepped on ur hair
Me: Wut??
Him:even though u seemed dead, yeh, think jamie like stepped on ur hair when u were half dead: and u woke up and went kinda ape shit
Me: NO memories of this
Him:but due to being so drunk it was not very scary was at a's you dead for like 1 hour in kitchen floor till some one moved u to a bed
Me: omg :i dont remember ANY of this
Him: :i recall being amazed by how flexible u were as u like had ur leg like on ur head but were dead ________________________________________________
Anyway, yeah. Alcohol. Good stuff.
If you ever have the chance - stay in a hostel. They attract absolute fucking crackheads. You'll love it.
_________________________________________________ Life is looking up. Sorta, kinda, alot. Roll on yr 2.
I work in the Tower of London. Not permanently -just for another week or so. I'm pretty much based on the spot where Anne Boleyn had her head cut off. I are bar maid. People don't tip enough, even on a Saturday night. Even when I took off my blouse and flashed a little, I didn't get anything other than a Bill Nighy lookalike asking me out. Next time you go out, tip. Do it for the students who have to resort to barwork in order to pay for their next alcohol induced coma. Doooo it. Think of us.
Friday, 11 September 2009
I'm lazy as fuck, kk?
Been meaning to write for ages, but that would involve effort. No thanks.
But if someone called me fat I'd become really obsessive about it.
