Sunday, 10 August 2008


So I looked at these leather leggings in Paris Vogue today and Jesus, do I have a lot of work to do before Winter. And by "work", I mean "unpleasant self-deprivation", "hormonal crying" and "reluctant pilates", because there is no way on God's green earth that my diminutive and thigh-centric body is going to pull that shit off. I personally would abso-fucking-lutely loathe anyone whose blog I read that sentence in, but please try and think of me as a loveable everywoman who has the same insecurites as you rather than, say, a total egocentric bitch.

Also I am fully aware that I am coming across as a shallow moron, but this is a blog, not a dissertation. If you really want to hear something about my intellectual pursuits, then know that I am trying to break my readers' block with two books simultaneously; Camus' "The Plague" and "Nexus" by Henry Miller. Hooray! Now the internet knows that I have an IQ of above one hundred! I feel validated and utterly self-important!
If only I can put that throbbing intellect to work tonight on creating a "hilarious" punning team name for the pub quiz (Quizteama Aguilera? Quiztian Bale? Quiztian Dior?)then maybe I can actually win some sodding money. What kind of motherfucking person is so chronically unemployable that a flyering job for a sushi restaurant - possibly one which entails wearing a koi carp costume, I was so desperate I didn't even check - is beyond their reach?
Don't even bother to answer that clearly rhetorical question. Sometimes I think you like seeing me fail.

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