Monthly Archives: June 2014

Worthy


Sometimes, you get the feeling from the people around you. That you are not worthy of them. That you sort of fall short of what they’d hope you’d become. You are near the finish line, and you just stumble. No point crying. There’s nothing you can really do.

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Sex? Love? Bollocks. Definitely.


I think I’m into emotional BDSM.

I hate roller coasters. But my head has been in one for the last 4 months.

My liver is slowly dying.

So is my mind.

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Toe curlingly good…


I’m at last in a serious relationship. It’s taken me a while, and sure… I’ve had a few hot sweaty nights… but I think I’ve found all the cool and calm I need… I suppose who want to know a bit more? Well, he spins my body around, as well as my head… he’s quit noisy in bed, but at least he’s honest about the fun we are having… ok ok ok fine, I’ve bought an electric fan. BUT, in all fairness, I really think we’re dating. I mean, he’s on all the time, he spends so much time with me and to be honest, he doesn’t hurt my feelings, make me feel like shit, or anything… but he doesn’t tell me dumb jokes, or call me dumbo when I say something silly… and he doesn’t go and get me orange juice when I want some (that said, I don’t think I know any men who would do that either, so maybe I should turn lesbian).

Anyway. Yes. It’s fucking hot. I’m on holiday. I’m off to Ireland soon, then job interview at a bakery (which I really hope I get because… who doesn’t like making croissants and sandwiches? No one.)

Apart from that, I’m try tired. I think I’m slowly dying (I think that’s why I’m sad)…  Wish I didn’t have a brain so I couldn’t think.

My love life is getting interesting, can’t say much but I have to say, apparently I’m successful with Egyptians (not really my type) and Americans (the accent isn’t as nice, but the one I met was from Boston, so très sexy). But I’m not going to act on anything yet anyway. I think I’ll curl up with Oreo’s (lactose free! Woot!) and a cup’o’tea instead. And wait for death to take me.

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I think…


That change is in the air. Live fast. Die young is my new motto. See you never! xxx

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I’m weird. But aren’t we all anyway?


Today I’m in the mood to talk about those really personal things which make us… us, so to speak. I’m not talking genetically, because let’s face it, we are all different, but we’re all the same. We all have this innate obsession with being different, standing out from the crowd, and yet… we all go back to square one because we end up all dressing, acting, being the same. There are however those very rare people who do not, maybe out of mental illness (the need for others, or the disinterest in others), or just ideology (living up a tree naked only eating their own faces would be a good example).

Anyhow, back to our weird idiosyncrasies. I list some of my strange ones. Maybe I’ll list of few of my friends ones too that I’ve noticed.

1) This was brought to my attention by mr T : (so for my defence I didn’t realise this was strange since (even though he has this impression I do) I don’t generally sleep around, and, yes shock horror, when I do sleep with someone I never let them sleep over OR I never sleep over). Wearing underwear (in my case knickers or boxers) UNDER your pyjama’s. The thing is, when he mentioned this to me I had no defence. Like non at all, because frankly I have never thought about it. I still don’t except that I don’t do it so much anymore (or maybe I will and see if it annoys him… that would mean him contacting me, coming over etc. Panic panic.)

2) Blood oranges. I LOVE blood oranges. Obsessively. I don’t eat  oranges ever, except these. When in season (which I swear is never or very short), I’ll eat maybe six or seven kilos worth. Then stop. Mega blood orange binge.

3) I love collecting maps and globes. Generally old ones, but I don’t care.

4) I collect stamps. I know. I know. I bet you’re all behind your computer screens thinking, “oh I know what Roxy looks like : spotty, glasses wearing retard”. Well you are only half right. I do have glasses. But no. I love stamps. I only got into it in about year 3 because they were going on a school trip and I wanted to go. Then I was hooked. I think it’s all about the obsessive organise that appeals to me to be honest.

5) Men in suits. Need I say more?

6) Actually sure, men in suits are sexy, but I usually go for guys who don’t think that much about clothing. No one wants to date a pansy to spends hours in the bathroom.

7) Due to my fear or most foods, I LOVE anything vegan and vegetarian now, so yes. I am one of the few tofu lovers (Apart from tofu, I’m not a lover at all. More of a hater.)

8) I binge drink diet coke.

9) Playing pranks. Oh holy jesus. I’m the best. Except I’m a really sore loser about it, because I really hate it when people do it to me, but I love doing it to others (I used to have all the old Smiffy’s pranks when I was a kid…)

mmmm ill add more later. Had a busy night/day ^^

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Did you know…


Did you know that kiss in Hungarian is Pussy? PUSSY? I used to live in Sweden, so I thought their “Puss Puss” for kiss was strange… but I can’t bring myself to ask someone for pussy. Or should I say grammatically, for a pussy. It’s annoying, because all the shite pick-up lines I know, only work if you want to pick up girls… and since, ahem “pussy” isn’t really my domaine (I tried, I know, REALLY know it’s not my thing), I can’t use that line. I think, my FAVOURITE pick-up line of all time is the next one (actually I find the lamest the best. If it’s shit and funny. I’m done.) :

Guy : Hey babe, how are you?

Girl : Errr great, you?

Guy : Cool, cool. Do you study? Work?

Girl : I study art… you?

Guy : Ahh that’s cool. Me? I have a PHD…

Girl : Really? Wow thats so wicked.

Guy : Yeah, I’ve got a pretty huge dick…

THIS IS BRILLIANT. If only I could try it out, except that having a giant pussy isn’t a good thing, and having big breasts is pretty redundant with me… and boob size doesn’t really make a difference.

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Artistic innit?


To be honest, I don’t really consider myself an artist… more like some knob who creates stuff no one cares about. I’m posting this one (for once, I never post on public sites my artwork), because it’s not very personal, and mr T is in it (not that he knows this of course). It’s an homage. I wanted him to be part of an art piece without him knowing, so now he is a published author too (except he won’t be paid, although, neither am I, so I think we’re equal… here’s hoping he didn’t copy right that photo… which as a by the by isn’t great quality (note to self tell him, if he ever talks to me again, how to use the adjustments on his camera) but who cares, he is part of it. Cool eh!? Even if you said no I wouldn’t give a rats ass.

Enjoy!

(p.s. The story talks a lot about booze. Just in case you thought I was an alcoholic, I just had the results of a blood test and my alcohol levels are good, and, YESSSSSSSS are low too. So screw you metabolism! I can drink like anyone’s business!)

 Hello Toulouse

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