Monthly Archives: May 2011

You don’t love him, he’s not even real

SO I’ve been watching Campus over and over again because I think I’ve fallen in love with this guy:

If you didn’t watch it he’s really pretty, a bit stupid and likes running around a lot. I love him mainly because he likes climbing on stuff like chairs and trips over stuff. It’s just adorable.

Trouble is HE IS NOT REAL. I do this all of the time, fall in heartbreaking depressing love with fictional characters. As a kind of therapy for myself and anyone else going through similar pain I’ve decided to accept the hard facts. It just wouldn’t work out between us. I’ll start with Flatpack.

Why it wouldn’t work:

He’s a bit stupid; I’m not that bright. We would never win on The Million Pound Drop and we couldn’t have nights in watching University Challenge. I don’t think I’d like to do either of those things but it’s nice to have the option.

He is too pretty. I bet he takes ages to get ready and I like to be out in 5 minutes. It’d lead to rows, I’d hide his products, he’d get angry and leave me for someone who spends all of their time grooming sitting in front of a mirror and worrying about their hair.

He likes to exercise too much. I don’t mind a bit of exercise, (light, preferably while watching TV) but he goes a bit too far with it all. I bet we’d have to eat vegetables all of the time. He’d make me feel insecure about my weight, I’d worry he was going to leave me for someone in the Olympics, I’d accuse him, he’d deny it but I’d drive him to it. It’d be sad but we’d move on but our relationship would never recover.

Tyler Durden

He’s just so beautiful. Look at him, he’s so tough. Heyyyy let’s have a fight, let’s drink beer and hit golf balls at cars. It would be a dream come true. He’s just so fun!

Why it wouldn’t work:

He really isn’t real. Not even just fictional but he’s a cool guy dreamed up by some loser.
He’d probably try burning me with acid and having a fight with me. I don’t think that’s acceptable in any relationship, no matter how beautiful the burner may be. There’s also all the fighting. It’d ruin his face. I’d say “Oh babe, I wish you’d be a bit more careful, you’re too pretty to take punches to the face”. He’d be annoyed and say I was trying to ruin his fun, and that I just don’t understand him, then he’d say I was boring and sleep with some bitch named Marla. It’d end badly and he’d try blow up my house.

Jack Sparrow

Hot. Just oh so incredibly beautiful. Look at his lovely clothes and his hair and his lovely make up and beautiful tanned skin from all of those days at sea.

Why it wouldn’t work:

I’d want him to spend more time at home; he’d want to be off at sea. His natural tan would look great, he’d tease me for my patchy fake bake. I couldn’t trust him not to have an affair with a wench with heaving breasts that he meets in a bar in the Caribbean (he has a history). He’d say I was interfering with his work and that the life of a pirate means he can’t stay at home with Jack Junior and me. One day all of the treasure will be gone and he won’t be able to send any money home. I’ll run away with a man who’s reliable but boring who can afford good schools and we’ll go our separate ways, always dreaming of what we once had.

The Doctor

He can travel in time AND space. We could go on the best dates! Anywhere I wanted to go. It’d be brilliant. Plus he’s quite hot and has nice clothes.

Why it wouldn’t work:

He always looks different, he can’t die and he won’t get old. But I will. From what I’ve seen he always ditches them for a younger model and takes off on new adventures. I wouldn’t be able to cope. I’d always be waiting for the day he decides to get rid of me. Plus I think he has a wife, who has a habit of turning up at the most inconvenient times. The rows would be terrible, we’d be living at opposite sides of the tardis in no time and all of the things I once found cute (talking to a space ship, making me run everywhere and trying to save people) would just become annoying and lead to many blazing rows. I’d tell him to drop me of on a spaceship and go on to live a happy life with a two headed alien.


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How to really survive a festival: Part 1 (The basics)

Because it’s nearly here and because there are some really awful things out there I thought I’d do my own version of a festival survival guide.

Wellys are good, if it gets too hot just take them off. I've tried rotating this a million times, it's not working.

I’ll start with the real big terrifying issue: Toilets. Right, I don’t like public toilets, no one does. No one wants to be in a little box full of other peoples gross business BUT there’s nothing you can do. I’ve seen people with bleach and little facemasks and all sorts, it’s just a waste of time taking stuff like that. All you need is loo roll (seriously, take some) and a friend willing to hold their coat around you while you pee up a tree. This is serious stuff. You may think you’re not the type of person who wees in public but you’re wrong. 5 paper cups of cider and a massive queue will change your mind.

Do NOT buy drugs at festivals. I know no one will listen to that, and that it’s all very exciting once you’re tangled up in the moment. “OH MY GOSH LET’S GET SOME DRUGS”. What a waste of time. If you really want drugs you’re going to have to sneak them in up your arse. See, people at festivals are easy targets. Over excited drunk people, usually 18 years olds who’ve just finished their A Levels and want to get ‘fucked up yah’. Yah, that’ll be £40 for the crushed up aspirin, don’t look for me, you’ll never see me again.

Take food*. Honestly, find a friend who knows how to cook, someone with one of those little stove things. You will love that person; they will be your best mate. Festival food is expensive and a bit shit, not all of it but it takes a lot of effort to figure out what’s good and what’s bad. It’s much easier to know that at least you can have something cooked at the tent. Take apples because they don’t squash easy and will make you feel a bit healthy. I also recommend Ribena, which has magic powers when it comes to hangovers. Take a bottle of water and fill it up at the little taps, otherwise it’s like £2 a go.

*Don’t take food to Reading. Put up your tent, and get everything sorted then walk into town and go to Tesco. It’s like 5 minutes away and will save a lot of carrying and moaning.

Don’t over pack. Honestly, the sad truth is no one cares how hot you are at a festival. There are a million girls in tiny shorts with lovely suntans. If you pack your shorts you’ll be living in them. Save space for booze and emergency flapjack. You should make a bit of effort though, because there are probably going to be a lot of pictures taken. What I suggest is glitter, face paint and nice things to put in your hair. Face paint sounds stupid but it really is good fun, and can be used to write rude words on your friend’s arms. Don’t take a big stupid hat. You’ll look like a tool. Waterproofs will also make you look like a bit of a tool but they’re actually useful. No one wants to be stuck in wet clothes all day.

The many uses of face paint.

You’re not going to get lost forever so don’t get stressed out. Missing people tend to turn up asleep in a tent (not always their own). Take one of those little cheap phones with batteries that last for two weeks if you’re really worried but there aren’t many people you’re going to want to call once you’re pissed up in a field, and they won’t be able to hear you anyway. Just stick together, it’s more fun like that anyway.

This is a big secret, but if you do want to buy something look for the tired drunk people working on the stalls. Because eventually they get very tired, very drunk and want to stop working and start having fun of their own. Don’t take the piss but there are a few times that if you’re really nice and friendly you might get a sneaky discount. If you’re working then make friends with the people on the bar. They can’t give you anything for free or anything because that’s soooooo against the rules but have a chat with them, they’re really nice.

Tired, drunk, not my hat, yet more face paint.

I’m bored of this now, I’m mainly doing these for my sisters benefit I think. She’s going to V for the first time (don’t judge, it’s really close to home so everyone goes) and I worry about her terribly. Next will be the complete list of things you shouldn’t go without. I’m also going to try talk her into getting a backpack and not washing her hair.


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I shouldn’t laugh…

I can’t help it, I just think this is funny “Bustin’ my ass”.
Poor, poor Lancey.

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The end is HERE

Today was sort of my last day of uni. I thought I’d already had my last day but I was informed that I was wrong and that this really is it, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure I have another last day next week.

It’s weird when things end, no matter if it’s a college course, a relationship or a lipstick. My days were all full up with school and homework and getting the bus and coming home and going to bed and getting up and doing it all over again. All I’ve got now is my thoughts, which are screaming WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?

Well, I have go no idea what my next move is going to be. I’ve had to write essays about it, ‘my career plan’ it’s full of made up ideas that I don’t know if I’m going to go through with. If I did follow my plan then this time next year I’d be living in France eating cheese. I think there are loads of people going through this now. The ‘It’s All Over’ feeling.

If anyone wants to share my plan here it is: Go on an adventure. Do all sorts of brilliant stuff. Don’t get a job at 21 that you’re going to be stuck in for the next 45 years and end up all grumpy about the stuff you never did when you were a tiny little human. Everything is going to turn out alright in the end.

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Lovely lovely yellow hair

It’s getting harder and harder to be a (bottle) blonde.

Everywhere I look there’s beautiful red hair. It looks so healthy and shiny, like an evil temptress. In my moments of weakness I like to look at my favourite blondes to remind myself of how wonderful it is to have lovely yellow hair. I hope that together we can see through the red days and raise our bottles of silver shampoo in celebration.


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Things my mother taught me

Since today is my beautiful mother’s birthday I thought I’d do a blog about the best pieces of advice she has ever given me.

She’s a bit of an eccentric character, and one of the traits I’ve picked up is that if anyone asks us a question we don’t know the answer to we will make up an answer so convincing we believe it ourselves, and the stock response to almost everything anyone says is ‘Oh that’s lovely’.

My mum always reminds me that right now I am the youngest I will ever be, and that I should make the most of it. When you’re 21 there’s no such thing as too short, as long as you’re keeping something covered, and you’ll only regret getting old and looking back on all of the outfits you were too scared to wear

One of my mum’s specialist subjects is hair. She’s always told me never to cut it too short and always use special blonde shampoo (but only if you’re blonde.) MY personal favorite is that if you tie your hair up everyday for two weeks it will grow. This probably isn’t true, but that doesn’t matter. If you really do tie your hair up everyday for two weeks it means you forget how long it is, and then you can pretend it’s grown loads. She’s clever like that.

My mum has always told me look after my body. She said it’s the only one I’m going to get, and that you need to treat it well. Do a bit of exercise, don’t have sweets for every meal. She said if I’m feeling extra brave I can even try eating some vegetables. Don’t give up everything that’s fun, but remember there’s always going to be consequences.

She told me to start using anti aging cream when I turned 16 to make sure I never got old (I still get ID’d so maybe it works) and that if you really mess up they can fix anything other than your hands. If your hands look old you look old, no matter how much you look after yourself. Stick a load of cream on them to keep them looking pretty.

Got to love Steam Cream

You never know who you’re going to bump into, so make sure you always look presentable. My ma always looks nice, no matter where she’s going. It’s not about getting all dolled up to go to the shops but at least make a little bit of effort. Brush your hair and make sure your face is clean. Don’t wear dirty clothes unless it’s washing day and never ever ever smell bad. It’s just good sense.

The most important thing I’ve learned is that you should never let anyone make you feel like they’re better than you are, and that everyone is the same and should be treated that way.

She’s really brill is my mum. She says some funny things but like she told me when I was a youth ‘only the very clever can play dumb well’. LOVE YOU MUMMY!

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Confession: My myspace name was Polly MiniMilk

Miss you Tom!

I’m really getting too open with my blog. This ones about some more of the shame of childhood. It gets pretty uncomfortable so be prepared to cringe.

In a quest to find my best emo pictures for the previous blog I just logged on to Myspace for the first time in about two years.

It looks weird there. Everything has changed! I left it there as a sort of time capsule. I wanted it to stay exactly the same forever so I could look back and remember never to be that much of a twat ever again.

I remember how important it was for me to have over 1000 friends, and posting PC4PC every ten minutes seemed like a sensible thing to do, rather that the most annoying and desperate thing imaginable.

Here’s a sample of some of my About Me:

i’d like to look more like a cartoon character, i’d like my hair to be bigger and my waist to be smaller. there are alot of things i’d like really but for now i shall stick with a pair of ysl tribute shoes and a mars bar. i must be developing a taste for the finer things in life. 

I don’t know what was with the little i’s. My hair is suitably big enough. The waist could probably still get smaller and I never got my tributes. At least my taste in shoes wasn’t messed up.

Even now, after all this time I’m struggling to confess to the true extent of my myspace whoreism. Here’s the big one…
This was not my first account. Anyone who remembers myspace will remember the time when all of the accounts kept getting messed up. Passwords changed and all sorts. Well my first account, that was where the real shame lies.

Only at 15 is putting pictures of yourself in your underwear on the internet and pretending to be 101-years-old the best way to make friends.

Black and white, mysterious.

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