BASICALLY

I AM LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH MY NEW VANS

HURGHGHHHHGHGHGHGHGHGHHH

IM IN THE MAC SHOP IN SOUTHAMPTON WITH ANTHONY ZARDIS. HEELLLLL YEAHHHHHH

i'm just a hunka-hunka burning love

location; extended study lesson, room M31

time; 11:12 am

activity; writing this fucking blog because its more constructive than anything else i could produce in this poxy lesson.

so ive been on the UCAS website, and after revelling and slapping the moniter of this hunk-of-crap computer, i've decided i cant be fucked to apply on UCAS, its a load of nonsense and makes less than no sense. im not a genius, all i want to do is find out which universities have my courses so i can go fart ass about on their websites and get some applications but this whole UCAS thing has thrown a spanner in the works, resorting in me throwing my toys out the pram and writing this instead of securing my future in further education. anyway, "i dont give a shag."

its raining at the moment and this displeases me on so many levels; for one i have to walk back to the train station once my lessons are finished, which means im gunna get shit hair and a face that looks like someones taken a blow torch to it. im a bit of a hypocrit, since i would usually look at girls screeching and sheilding their faces/hair from rain as they scramble for shelter and think they're pathetic and wonder why they cant just deal with it, its not like they're made of sugar, they're not going to dissolve in the rain so why the hell wont they man up. BUT, after getting up at half 6, straightening my hair and powdering my nose, it is a bit of a piss take to then walk through the rain and come to your next destination looking like a burns victim.

im looking forward to developing some bed sores this weekend, minimal movement is key to a good weekend. Gluttony is the theme this weekend. i want to eat shit and drink tea untill every cavity and pore on my body is crammed with food. i then want to drink untill i go blind and wake up as a tangled mess of limbs with eyes like a cat ass hole and mouldy mouth, throw up down the side of my bed and then go back into a deep and sweaty sleep...

OH, i used my hands to paint in art today! it was liberating, to grab a tube of acrylic paint and squirt it into your palms and then just smear it around like a wild woman, with the rest of my art class sitting there observing their work with pride and using fanny paint brushes for the intricate details. fuck that, im all about getting down and dirty with my art, i got involved and i loved it, no regrets, even though i have gold hands and i look like ive been fisting a bond woman.

on that note, tuttah mongspot

Toggle panic

its bad enough that i have to fight my own body out of bed every morning or i will literally never surface out the abundance of bedsheets and grotty pillows, and bad enough that i wake up with my eyes welded together with a good 8 hours worth of eye bogeys, and bad enough i always have a behemoth spot pretty much center of my face and becoming like a new focal point or a third eye, but all of these morning hinderances are nothing, NOTHING, compared to what i suffered on the train the other morning.
so, im on the train, its half 8 in the morning, im still working off my morning grip and waiting for my brain to kick in and process information rather than leaving me in my corpse-like stupour, and im about to arrive at my station to get off, so i get up and make towards the exit. but, leaving the train is apparently against god's will. now, if you any of you people reading this have a parker coat, you will understand and that occasionally there is a ridiculous loop of rope or string at the back of your coat that dangles just at the back of the leg. this little fucking piece of nonsense created by the ministry of shit design decided to ruin my life that morning.

on my hurried exit off the train- trying to retain a cool and collected demeanour whilst looking like a walking scrotum- this toggle on the back of my coat has become snagged on the arm rest of a seat, resulting in me catapolting backwards into this vaguely familiar guy from college. so now im stood there, flaundering like a fish out of water and still trying to make a most pathetic advancement towards the door but still being tugged backwards by this toggle tied around the chair. so the poor guy behind me has taken it upon himself to grab me by my hood and drag me backwards to unleash me from my trap. upon release i acted like a wild animals and made another flight towards the doors, but before i knew it, i had made it 2 chairs forwards and the very same thing had happened to me; i was caught upon the chair arm by this piece of string. by this point, im developing a twitch in my eye and feel myself reddening, as the commuters watch my pathetic struggle to break free for the doors again. this lad behind me has once again pulled me back, plucked this bit of string off the chair and propelled me forwards himself, and just when i can smell fresh air and see the light of eastleigh platform, i yet again find myself unable to move. only this time, it is my bag strap that has got caught. this was the straw that broke the camels back, i was ready to hurl myself into the train floor and curl up, possibly throttle myself with the very chord at the back of my coat and smother myself with my bag laiden with beads and oil paints. i dont think anyone will ever understand how infuriated i was, i was on the cusp of a panic attack followed by a swift suicide. never again will i feel as angry as i did on that train. never again will i be able to deal with a situation where i get snagged on something.

guys...

joe is sitting next to me doing coursework. what a poor misfortunate young filly. I however, have nothing better to do than write this... thats right my friends, im excelling in all my subjects and i have no need to sit a haunch over a computer in lunch times and free periods doing extra work so SUCK MY FIRM ONE.....

MAC SPAC

my mac has died. yet again, technology fails me. macs are the tardiest peices of electric shit on this planet, im sure. theyre the love child of a down syndrome victim and a defect toaster, resulting in the wonderfully over rated macbook. well apple. my mac has been jilted; thrown down, kicked under my bed with a plethera of food reminants and worn socks and never to see daylight again. so how d'you like them apples. THEN, my ipod busted. officially disowned it, i treated that thing like a child, nutured it and loved it and gave it all my time and affection. took it to the fucking dunce in Curry's, he was a prick, i was about to give him the peoples elbow but i got distracted by the bit of crusty butt nugget stuck in his tash. AND my phone has stopped working...yeah.. i know right, you feel my pain? i also just smoked a rollie made from baccy thats 5 months old and has been sitting on the windowsill in the kitchen getting minging. i love life. i want the weekend to roll round, hard and fast. but, its only monday and i have afew more days of misery and angst untill its all gravy once more.

Bliss

Tomorrow it will be Friday 13th, yet i know for a fact i've got another brilliant weekend ahead of me. as the week comes to an end again, i find myself facing what is going to be lovely weekend with lovely people. so thanks in advance. you know who you are. i want nothing more than to stay in bed and do what i do best...nothing. let the good times roll

Ode to Josh....

there is a boy i know named josh davies

all the girls want to have his babies

he is my favourite emo in all the land

i am probably his number one fan

hes hardcore as fuck from his feet to his neck

i love the way his brother says "BECK"

he never does his work and is always mashed

and gets totally pissy when his computer has crashed 

he has a cat called coco who is hard as nails

and would save this world when all else fails

joshes vocabulary is pimped with military slang

its super queer how he buzzes off a flashbang

he is a goff im proud to love

for so much more than the reasons above

top trumps

id like to alert everyone to the bane of my existence;

trying to conceal farts in public.

lets not be coy, we all do it. my personal fave being when im listening to my ipod and forget that im the only person who wont hear my fart, but its still audible to everyone else who doesnt have earphones in, which is always 97% of the people surrounding me as i drop the bomb. its always on the same level as hiroshima and nagasaki, and im pretty sure all women around me will have birth defect child due to bad fart. soz ladiez. another winner is when you cluck and then turn around and look behind you with a heavy frown as if to look for the culprit who produced that wretched stench, while rapidly moving away from the scene of the crime. or, perhaps you're the sort of person who stands next to a friend, unleashes a guff so powerful it rips a hole through your pants and dashes away from the infected area, and when others start questioning who the fuck dropped that nasty food ghost, you simply point a finger and blame it on your poor friend who is stood in your bum breath. or scenarios such as being in the public toilets and having a piss but accidently popping out a little fluff, and the sound bounces about the toilet bowl and theres nothing to be done but hang your head in shame and ignore the gaze of the person who emerged from the cubicle beside you and hope that moment doesnt come back to haunt you. BUT, despite all of this, my favourite public farting are those who simply let one rip and say nothing, do nothing; infact, some look slightly smug, and give you eye contact while they expel this fucking ring stinging gas thats enough to make your eyes water. its so absurdly obvious that no one suspects them. genius, about as blatant as standing there and telling someone to pull your finger, its pure gold. why is it you always think about how funny it would be if someone farted during the 2 minute silence and make yourself crease up, and end up stood there with a face like a beetroot and shuddering from the effort of not cracking up and getting sent for hell for disturbing the only 2 minutes all those brave men who died in war get remembered in. whatever, better out than in right...right?

PRICK

today i punched a cactus. it really fucking hurt.

dont try it at home

Boredom prevails

status report; roma's day.
06:45am; alarm goes off. i slap phone off bed and ignore it.
07:00am; alarm goes off again. i punt it with my chode finger and snooze.
07:22am; im late. have to shower, smell a bit spicy, but no time to wash hair. as if i care, i havnt washed it since friday anywhoolahoops. to anyone who knows me well enough, they will know that my hair smells like copper coins and diesel when its unwashed, which, in turn, smells like the interior of my ex's van. delicious.
8:24am; im on train to college, and im 5ft 9 and feeling fiiiiiiiine. obviously it starts pissing it down when i get off the train, which is always a plus when i have to walk in sub zero temperatures to college.
college was dull today, as it most usually is. nothing significant happened that even warrants a mention, stole a BLT sarny that tasted like salty foot cheese, so it swiftly made a debut into the nearest bin. BUT, though i had a rough sandwich and a seriously monotonous day at college, its all okay, because i got to see my wonderful baby sam and have 10 minutes in his company, before making my way to elliots house for some brotherly love, which thus far has been nothing short of hilarious. its been good to see some good friends, and this weekend ive got my fingers crossed to see lovely ant and all will be well.
22:02pm; SO GOD DAMN THIRSTY
.

ER, EXQUEEZE ME, BAKING POWDER

FUCK MY LIFE.

FUCK MY IPOD.

IT JUST FUCKING WIPED ITSELF BLANK.

NO MUSIC.

NO MERCY.

Tell me everything you know... I have a few seconds to waste.

dear diary, mood; apathetic.

im pretty sure my eyes resemble clams right now, im sooo tired. but, alas, its fine, im staying awake for a moment to write yet another pointless blog. i'd like to rant about a few minor details of my life; a: im developing dread locks in the back of my hair from lack of hygiene and care. b: i keep pulling my eyelashes out, which distresses me because i wasn't favored with many lashes to start with in life, they're  pretty endangered as it is without me tugging tufts out when i get anxious. c: <-- that looks like a teeny smiley face. d: i feel bloated as sin. i finally know how those little kids from africa feel with the air bellies... anyway. apart from this, im feelin' fine. had a lovely weekend doing shit all and spending 80% of my time in bed with a male cypriot, and for once it wasn't a dream. anyway, i have college tomorrow so i should probably hit the hay and wake up with crusty dried dribble on my chops and my nasal passages stinging from snoring hard and fast all night long. 

Vital Fluid.

Good evening bloggers. I have some gripe to share with you this fine night, for its been on my mind all day... so it goes a little something like this. Today i was busting for a piss during my english literature lesson, so i break out like the maverick i am and go to the toilet, in which i religiously use the second toilet in, so, as per usual, i go in there and have a hearty piss. BUT, i was shocked to find that mid-flow through that piss, i noted the large streak of period blood smearing down the right side of the cubicle. i literally gagged, yet felt strangely compelled to keep looking at it, thinking that maybe if i just kept glancing at it, it might just disappear. the last thing i want while im having a peaceful urination is to have someone's claggy fanny blood wiped across the cubicle like some filthy flag or gross display of dominance. i dont want to battle over territory, i was truely bothered that, out of all the toilets, its the only one i use. fucks sake. i could have touched it. then what? huh? AIDS. thats what.

Gluttony

Hey guys. you know when you get on a train with friends and you'd like to sit on the 4-seat arrangement with the table but theres one lone person being a table slut and taking up the whole thing, and you'd feel uncomfortable to go and sit with that one person, so you move on and have to split up with your friends? im always that one person at the 4-seater. i love being a bastard.