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Punishment


I don’t believe in god, I’m more agnostic than anything at all. But I swear, someone somewhere is punishing me. The bells! The fucking church bells today are going crazy!

I stayed in last night. I ordered a pizza and a can of coke and thats it. I watched a documentary about an american serial killer and then a girlie movie (Eat, Pray, Love). You may be wondering that the serial killer documentary + girlie movie + pizza = weird combo, but I feel that for balance, you need to not subscribe to social and gender roles. So yes. I’m a girl. I like to wear make-up, put on pretty dresses and watch crappy movies about “finding love” and shit, but then I also like to dress in my trampy clothes, sit on a smelly rock and listen to people jamming around a fire, while holding a burning marshmallow. I also really enjoy doing boy things, like playing computer games and drinking (“sans” farts, that’s going too far for me, so is burping. It’s never funny). Except I’m really shit at all the new computer games. I really miss the ones on the SEGA or Dreamcast. I mean, you didn’t have to be good to play Street Fighter or Sonic, you just had to press loads of buttons and see what happened. I can’t fecking play the Wii. I can’t get that whole balancing thing. I wobble and fall off something, and I lose. Plus all the new games you have to get off your arse and dance, and punch or swat things. I though the point of computer games (at least when I was young) was to sit on your hungover arse, sipping diet coke and munching on Wotsits (it’s sad, that is something I really want for my birthday. I swear, I love moving to different countries and stuff (Canada hopefully in 2/3 years) but sometimes you miss the taste of things. I don’t even remember the taste of Wotsits. They probably are shit, but I just don’t remember how shit they are!).

Anyway, missions of the month is to redesign my friends band logo, I need to start that properly but I have been busy resigning my CV and redesigning my business cards (they are fucking wicked, I wish I could have created a hologram version, but I don’t have a 3D printer, but I swear, this is kind of a paper version of a hologram, and amazing because I made them, and I’m a great artist).

Ive also started a new Moleskine, I was planning on giving it to someone as a gift, but then I was like, nah who cares. I love my Moleskines. They are like my private little world. I mean, you get to pour out your thoughts into a little leather bound book, and when you look through it, it reminds you of a time and a place. I mean, I have tons of them already, hidden away in boxes. Some full of thoughts, some shopping lists, holiday notes, photos, etc but each one is individual. Private. It’s like a slice of your brain, that you hide away. No one ever gets to read them, because you feel like it’s that private. You may I suppose share it with that one special person. But that’s about it.

I need to get a pet. I kinda want either a small dog or a hairless cat. Everyone thinks hairless cats are horrible, but I think they are so weird and kinda stoic. Anyway, I can’t afford one anyway, coz they cost about one thousand euros, so unless I get one for my birthday (here’s hoping! Praying to god as we speak!) OR someone randomly is giving them away for free (very unlikely)… I have more chance of getting a HAIRY cat (although I prefer Dogs…).

I could always get a stick insect. But I feel as though we would not be able to interact very well together.

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Filed under Alcohol, bla bla bla, Culture, Friends, Goodbye, Happiness, Hello?, History

Flirting in the 21st century : Facebook style


I get these from time to time… (like the one I got today). I usually get them from Africa or Arab countries, but today I got one from the USA (although I’m guessing he’s from spanish extraction. Anyway, this got me thinking… for those who shun online dating (like myself, I find it sort of lame, and full of weirdos… that said… I can’t say that I haven’t met my fair share of weirdos without having to resort to online dating!). But this random Facebook trawling and adding may be the new form of online dating. Who needs Tinder… when everyone already had Facebook!? That said… why some random guy would want to be friends PURELY because he though I was cute is a tad strange… mostly because he is in the USA and I live in Frogland… whatever. Anyway, here is part of the conversation.

Capture d’écran 2014-07-24 à 16.21.13

Capture d’écran 2014-07-24 à 19.05.48

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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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Running Blindly


Sometimes you make bad decisions for the right reasons. Fuck me. Can’t we be a bit goddam selfish from time to time? If I want to run into a brick wall, well I’m happy I have the free will to do so. There are times to be strong and there are times to be weak. Showing weakness is just like a badly drawn curtain, it shows just enough humanity to prove to others that no one is perfect. I try my upmost to be a good person. God, he doesn’t exist. I know that deep down… and I firmly trust in science… but, I  an’t help but believe in  Karma. I feel as though there’s some sort of… “world average”. Say, I murder Mr T in his sleep (I know he reads this, so be prepared to get the “angel” treatment. I strongly believe in BIG smiles…) ha ha. Back to point. I believe, if I kill/hurt him (or anyone), then at some point, my luck/chance/bad heebie jeebies will catch up with me. Maybe I’ll trip over in the street on a dead cat, then as I try and get up, my shoe will be stuck to some particularly sticky chewing gum… it won’t come unstuck. I have to leave my shoe there. So I’m now walking like the hunchback of Notre Dame with one shoe. A bird will probably shit on my head and some punk will spit on me (although for those who don’t know, that’s a sign of respect, so punks are TECHNICALLY nice spitters… not that I want to be spat at… if you want to declare your love to me, I’d prefer you say it, not spray it…) Anyway… back to point. Karma. Do good, and when day, it will be your turn to collect. I’ve been real good. I’m serious. I was born on christmas day, if that wasn’t lucky enough, my parents didn’t give me that Father Christmas bullshit. So I didn’t feel the need to be good for that bloke either, since… I knew mum’n’dad were gonna just buy me that concert ticket/t-shirt/etc I wanted anyway. So you can’t deny, I have been punished since birth (and no one wants a French mother who has italian heritage. Bitchy. My mum once spat at me. She threw shoes at me (this is a class Ma move here by the way). I’ve had face slapping (as well as arse and hand). No belts, I never went too far… but being an only child, you have to keep yourself occupied (insert here a variety of pranks, from the “do you want a chewing gum”, to “fake cigarettes” etc… which are classic store bought pranks… pretty tame… to my FAVOURITE cling film toilet cover etc. This habit got worse since I was sent to boarding school for being naughty (skipping class apparently isn’t very good). It’s a shame all this, because I was always a very good student, I just like to be left alone to do what I want, when I want. Plus, that moment when you’ve put two bottles of own-brand coke in someone bed with a tube of lube, is great when you’re spying at them from under your own bed. I mean I emptied five kilos of confetti in a friends bed. That was great. I did worse, but I don’t want to go to “boarding school” mean girls camps to bitchy unhappy twelve year olds.

I feel like I have got off point again. I’m distracted. I’d tell you about it, but I found out a certain person reads this, so I’ll have to use another blog to post that shizzle. Or maybe I’ll go all Anne Frank on his ass and be old school and write all this shit down with a pen on, wait for it, p-p-p-p-paper! (I’m lazy. Plus it takes more time.)

The direction I’m trying to get back to, running blindly towards something really is true. You know you should stand up, be strong and when you know what you want, try and get it. But when it doesn’t work. It’s hard to refuse to take what happiness you can. You don’t understand? I’ll give you an example. Say… you really want to eat some “oh so delicious” M&M’s. But the dude at the store is like, no, no you can’t have the yellow ones in the packet. Unless I randomly give you them, when I want. You kinda want the whole packet of M&M’s, because there are exactly what you want. But, the guy will only give some of the yellow ones, when he wants to, but you can have the other colours. Well, you take what you can get. Even though, the yellow ones, are like poison, (because in this analogy, you need exactly five yellow a week, or you will slowly die… so if you have less, you will die. But really slowly. Like with arsenic.) You say, well hell, some yellow is better than no yellow at all? And fuck me. Those yellows are damn tasty. I should demand them all, but you are afraid that the shopkeeper will kick you to the curb, so you take what you can keep. Because you love M&M’s so much, that a few yellows is better than no  M&M’s at all. So, you are sort of running blindly into a wall. Sure the way to the wall, is like a roller coaster. It feel great. You’re sad from time to time (because you really want to have all the M&M’s), but if he doesn’t want to sell them, you can’t do anything (because will all the BEST things in the world are free, and like dancing the tango (from what I’ve heard, I don’t really do dancing (unless it’s drunk dancing, where I actually have a god medal in), you need two people to do (and a guy to constantly give out roses to hold in your mouth). So maybe three (not that I’d know anything about threesomes… foursomes on the other hand…) ha ha. I’ve now forgotten how many brackets I’ve put in. Damn. I’m rambling. Argh. ADHD FAIL.)

Anyway, back. Back to point. How can I lose myself more than once in something I’m writing myself (three degrees later, and still a fecking retard).

In the end, I know I’m not perfect. I try my best to bed good. I don’t like hurting people, because once you experience real, scream worthy pain, the type of pain when you realise you’ve just lost everything. Absolutely everything. That moment those invisible walls that keep your world standing up, fall down. Covering you in metaphorical rubble. You can’t breathe. You are have this strange feeling of acute visibility and at the same time, you’re blind. Well. That’s how I would describe pain. Sorrow. Anger. Every emotion you can feel, all boils down to the one and only emotion people go to war over, die over, cry, sob, scream, but also laugh, hug, smile, scream over, love. Cliché? Yeah. Duh. But in the end, there are those people who are afraid to take a leap, through in the towel of depression, and say fuck it. Yeah. FUCK IT. I’m gonna see where this goes. Who knows. It could be gggrrreeeattttt (that was supposed to be said in a Tony the tiger voice… Frosties? Anyone. I must be the only 25 year old who could eat cereal at any meal and this, yeah, this is normal). I mean. Love can be shitty too. But honestly, unless you’ve put your hand in the box of cereal to see if you got the toy you wanted, you can’t know if it’s gonna fail or not.

Myself, I don’t want to have regrets anymore. Sure. I don’t know where I’m going but hell, I’m enjoying the pain with the happiness. You can’t imagine what it feels like to have the guy you want in your bed. I know how to make him smile. I quite like that. He has this kinda sly cheeky smile. Totally makes my day to see that. Who needs a present when you can see that. Have I been turned into a marshmallow? Yep. I will I was more like a Crunchie. Hard on the outside, and hard on the inside. Except, I’m hard on the outside, and very very gooey and soft on the inside. I’m sort of like a volcano that never erupts, but when I do. A mountain of happiness kinda get vomited out (I know. Beautiful image right there).

On the plus side. I’m learning things about me every day. And, well I don’t really know what to do. But I’m trying to take it as it comes. Some people need more time. And I’m playing a game I’ve never played before, so I don’t think I know the rules yet (this reminds me of the first time I played UNO, who knew you could swap cards with your opponent?). Let’s see shall we. If it all goes tits up, I’ve got some Sake in my fridge I’ve been keeping for a rainy day (or the apocalypse, coz, fo sho, unless the rapture comes, no one is drinking that shit. I usually keep it for people who have never tasted it before and need a shock… or maybe a certain Mr T if he’s bad.)

ha ha ha xxx

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