ink polaroids

A selection of texts from last night:

"OMG - Boris!"

"Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt"

"I'm genuinely in complete shock. Even yesterday I couldn't believe people would actually have voted for him. I'm feeling really depressed."

It's like I've woken up in the 1980s. Only the death of Thatcher could cheer me up today.

Hello! And thank goodness it's Friday. I'm not doing this again. I've come to terms with the fact that I am a sporadic blogger rather than a regular one. This blog will be quality and not quantity in the future. At least the second part of that sentence is true.

I was going to write about how happiness is the biggest hurdle to overcome when it comes to finding an incentive to blog; how I'm not sure if I've compromised my childhood dreams or just realised they were never right for me; how I don't know if these are coffee grains or mouse droppings all over my desk...

...but I think I'll just leave you, in the best traditions of the internet, with a picture of a cat:

The internet is 90% cat pictures.

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Have awesome weekends, everyone. I am going O-U-T tonight and I can't wait. Roll on 6pm.

Hello! It's me again. I can't remember why I decided to blog every day this week. That was a really stupid idea. How do people manage it? I haven't even managed to wash and groom myself every day.

Anyway, in contrast to my blog title, here are some things I DO care about. Stuff that's rocking my boat today includes:

- Cross-stitch. The world of crafting is a dark and dangerous one. Look how quickly I've slipped from knitting to cross-stitching. It'll be appliqué and papier mâché next if I'm not careful.

Just don't.

- My dad's DIY haircut. He has taken another step along the road to Crazyville and decided to cut his own hair. He seems to have set his new clippers to "length: random" and also decided to use a pair of scissors to style the sides. Oh, and did I mention he's nearly blind? The resulting mess would go down a storm in Hoxton, but my mum is refusing to be seen with him in public.

- Living back in Leyton, after staying in Ealing and Brentford and suffering a fuck-stupid commute. Leyton, I will never leave you again. Until tomorrow.

- Deciding to train to be a librarian. It seems the obvious career choice, given my tweeness and fondness for books and slightly obsessive desire to put things in order. And shush people.

- My housemate baking me cakes.

cat cake

1 comment

Hello! I'm back again! Everyone has been blogging about food and I hate being left out, so I'm going to belatedly join in for One Entry Only.

I was ***HIGHBROW CULTURE ALERT!*** watching Freaky Eaters on BBC3 last week and it was busily condemning a woman who only ate bread. I felt a jolt of recognition because, until relatively recently, that was me. Actually, her diet was more varied than mine because she supplemented it with exotic tinned delicacies like Spaghetti Hoops and soup whereas I used to live on bread and potatoes and biscuits. Protein was no friend of mine, and fruit and vegetables were scary strangers. I didn't like food with lumpy bits or stringy bits, or food where I didn't know exactly what was in it, or green food. Or red or blue or orange food, unless it was cake. I was an expert in mashing food around the plate and hiding most of it under my fork. I had to be in control of what I ate, and if that meant having two potato waffles every day for dinner, then so be it.

I am s-l-o-w-l-y becoming more adventurous. Yes, I am underweight - I'm officially too small to give blood, which is a shame because injections don't bother me (although the nurse had to use the premature baby needle last time I needed one because my arms were too scrawny for the Big Girl's needle. I was 26 years old). No, I don't have an eating disorder although I probably ticked all the boxes for "Most Likely To Acquire One" in my youth. I enjoy food, and I bloody love cooking. I've changed my hours at work so I have more time to make my tea in the evenings. I've become the sort of person who reads recipe books in bed. We have 51 in the flat so that's almost one for every week. There has been dark talk of throwing a dinner party. My pockets are always full of shopping lists. And my mum is in shock. All those years of worrying that I would waste away and trying everything to make me eat new foods - from rewarding me with gold stars to, in one moment of severe frustration, tipping a plate over my head - and suddenly, something has clicked in my head and [Food Is Good].

I am still adding new foods to my diet. Here are some things I have tried for the first time this year:

1) Blueberries.

Like tiny jewels exploding with...blueness. The only thing that puts me off is the thought that somewhere, "Dr" Gillian McKeith is approving of my diet.

2) Grapes.

Aren't they crunchy! Are they meant to be crunchy?

3) Mushrooms

a) In a vegetarian burger: yum!

b) In a risotto: groo.

There is still some work to be done there.

Hello again! In an attempt to get my blogging mojo back, I am aiming to blog every day this week. It'll probably peter out by this afternoon, but now I have The Cure lyrics as my blog titles I have some incentive to keep going til Friday so I can finish the verse. (Early heads-up: I won't mean Thursday's title. I love you guys.)

Here is a song I've been listening to an awful lot this week, thanks to the magic that is Hype Machine. If you haven't discovered it yet, you are missing out - it streams music from various blogs and houses a scarily wide range of songs. And none of that scary "downloading" business either! Let's leave that to the young people.

Anyway, I'm rambling. A random search threw up Bill Cosby's cover of Reach Out (I'll Be There) - yes, that's the comedian Bill Cosby, taken from his ludicrous album Bill Cosby Sings Hooray For The Salvation Army Band. Clearly realising he'd never be taken seriously as a singer, he's adopted a somewhat tongue-in-cheek approach and doesn't so much reinterpret the song as rugby tackle it to the ground and kick it into submission with his brand-new lyrics and distracted singing style. My favourite bit is right at the start when he bellows "Hello!" like a crazy old man at a bus stop shouting at cars.

Bill Cosby

Friday night:

Girl on the bus, talking animatedly on her mobile: "Mmm, we've got a good relationship. He carries me home when I'm paralytic and I patch him up when he gets beaten up... Right, so meet me outside the shop where I robbed the Lambrini, yeah?"

Saturday night:

"So a rhombus can fit inside any shape? A rhombus is the slag of the shape world!"

"I like the Northern line. It's like a drunken uncle where you're not sure if he abused you as a child or not."

Sunday night:

Playing a new game called How Do You Solve A Problem Called "The Flatmate's Ex Who Refuses To Leave?" (Answer: stop dropping hints and just ask her to go already.)

Monday morning:

The discovery that the Waterloo & City line is the strangest line of all to board in the mornings. Commuters use their Tube Sense to divine where the doors are and line up exactly in place for them.

The second, less revelatory, discovery that getting to work within an hour of waking up (when your commute is 50 minutes) leaves you feeling discombobulated and unravelled. No amount of tea will cure me today.

tomorrow, on a train, and I can't wait. I'm going to Edinburgh and then to Gamba-land, also known as Glasgow. I'm going for my BIRTHDAY. Did I mention it's my birthday on Friday? Well, it is.

I have a question for you all: any tips on things to do and see in Edinburgh? My plan so far only includes one item: potter around. I am very good at pottering. More constructive ideas will, however, be gratefully received.

This entry is short and to the point. I am going to do some work now, really I am.