Reasons Why I Am a Total Freakin' Loser

1) I enjoy grocery shopping alone. I actually look forward to it. This way I can get excited about a new type of cereal without being judged.
2) I always linger in the kids' section of IKEA; not because I am a paedophile (I'm not, just so you know. Apparently women can be paedos too though, yay equality!), but because I wish the tiny cartoonish furniture was also made in grownup sizes so I could build my own Minnie Mouse-type dwelling.
3) I love it when the Oyster-card-inspecty-people get on the 207 and I have actually paid for once. This holds a similar appeal to the times when I was a schoolkid and someone else got in trouble for a change.
4) I check www.yesterland.com regularly to see if any rides have been retired at Disneyland.
5) I am still angry that the Star Tours ride is being replaced.
6) I alter the lyrics of songs so that they are about how stupid/fat/ginger/cute my dog is, and then sing them to her. She's deaf, so there is literally no point in doing any of this.
7) I like to make passive-aggressive comments VERY LOUDLY right at people who have pissed me off by talking during a movie as they get up to leave. Makes me giggle.
8) I start informing people that 'it's my birthday soon' about 2 months before my actual birthday. I am not under the illusion that my birthday is that important to others; I just really like to annoy people.
9) I used to occasionally go into goth/alternative chatrooms and proclaim my love for Nickelback just to watch everyone get angry.
10) I like to sing inappropriate songs in the style of Meatloaf while showering. I mean that I sing them while I'm showering; I don't know what Meatloaf sounds like when he's showering.
11) I occasionally wear aviators and listen to AC/DC while driving to my office job, so I can pretend that I'm some sort of badass. I also drive round corners slightly faster than I probably should to enhance the effect.
12) Sometimes I repeat advertising slogans from the television in a bad Russian accent for my own amusement.

This is not an exhaustive list, but I have to go and stare at the wall or whatever it is I'm paid to do now...

Pielight

A deserted loading dock. Midnight. Heavy rainfall, slightly muffling the sound of stilettos on concrete. She throws a brief glance over her shoulder, suppresses a shiver and hurries to the centre of the dock, where he is waiting. Stopping about two feet's distance from him, she avoids his gaze for a brief moment. She is shaking, her fists clenched at her sides. Then, with a sudden cry, she lands a stinging slap across his face. He remains still, allows her to compose herself. Breathing still a little ragged, she finally brings herself to look directly at him.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She asks the question, already fearing the answer. "Why couldn't you just be honest with me from the beginning?"
"I didn't want to hurt you. But I can't change what I am."
She nods, the fight drained from her. Her tears mix with the streams of rain coursing down her face.
"What am I supposed to do now?" Looking into his face, imploringly.
"You must forget all about me. This can never be..." Even as he says it, he knows she will not listen. She is reaching into the pocket of her coat, and he trails off, intrigued. Her hand trembles slightly as she reveals its contents; a miniature, cellophane-wrapped pork pie. His reaction is instant and terrifying. A guttural cry escapes his lips as he lunges for the morsel, consuming it in an instant; cellophane and all. Suddenly filled with horror and revulsion at his involuntary action, he backs away from her. Her eyes are wide with fear, yet still she takes a step toward him. Then another. Placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, she gently tilts his chin so that they are face to face. With surprising firmness, she speaks:
"I don't care. It doesn't matter to me that you are completely obsessed with pies, you fat bastard! I need you." They embrace as the rain continues to pour. In the distance, a coyote howls.

Some Stuff that Happened

OK, so I was on my way to work (I drive now, which means I can more easily avoid contracting 207-HIV) when I noticed that my petrol was getting low. To avoid having to drag my car to work using a skipping rope and a lot of muscle-power, I pulled into a petrol station immediately. As I was filling the car up with fuel (the best thing to put in that part of the car, incidentally), another car pulled up to the pump next to mine. A guy dressed entirely in black got out, and started fuelling up his car. I thought he was a bit odd, as he had his hood pulled right up (it wasn't raining) and had sunglasses on, despite the fact that it wasn't sunny. Well, actually the sunglasses part wasn't so odd, except for the fact that we weren't in Kentish Town (where pretentious unnecessary wearing of sunglasses is common among the large Twat community). He seemed a bit on-edge as well, which caused me to continue covertly observing him by squinting awkwardly at him out of the side of my face in the manner of Popeye. Suddenly, he popped the petrol cap back on his car, jumped in and started driving off without paying. 'Aha!' thought I. So that's why he was such a shifty git then. Then, the next interesting thing happened. As he was about to drive out of the petrol station exit, STEPHEN FRY suddenly leapt out of another car nearby and ran in front of the moving vehicle!! Quick as a flash, he held out his hand and STOPPED THE CAR, causing it to grind to a halt and buckling the metal of the bonnet at the point of impact with his hand. As I was struggling to take all of this in, he deftly flipped open the bonnet of the car and ripped out the engine in one smooth move. Throwing it safely into a nearby disposal bin, Fry calmly locked eyes with the shocked driver of the car, and boomed 'I'M STEPHEN FRY, AND IF I HAVE TO PAY FOR MY PETROL, YOU JOLLY WELL SHOULD TOO!' The police then pulled up and began to arrest the man, during which time Fry sauntered back to his car as they waved their gratitude. I distinctly heard one of the policemen say 'Thanks again, Stephen!' as Fry drove off into the mist. Well, you don't see that every day!*


*Some or all of the above may be a lie

Beatles Poetry. Or, 'Shut up, you self-important cow'

I dearly hold all I have known
In friendship or in love,
I cannot fault their offerings
Of olive-branch or dove,
However I can fully say
Of all the ones held true,
They simply cannot take the place
Of the hated Meanies Blue.

I love those dear Blue Meanies,
Of whom are not thought well,
They hate that Paul McCartney
Who's honestly a bell
-END of the story here must be
In spite of what is due,
I finish my discourse with love
Me do, sir please don't sue

Letter to Self

Dear Ellen,

I am writing to politely suggest that you SORT IT OUT! It is not acceptable to wear pink tights with a red skirt just because you couldn't be arsed to do laundry last week. It is also not acceptable to cut down to one meal a day because you can't be arsed to go food shopping either. You seem to find ample time to arse around making sure your hair stays pink, and to Facebook stalk plenty of people. Therefore it stands to reason that you could find a spare minute of your day to OPEN THE DAMN MAIL! Seriously, it is just unnecessary to have FOUR newsletters from your former school hanging around your kitchen counter. If you don't care what the school is up to these days, PUT THEM IN THE BIN!! I am writing this to you for your own good, as it seems that you have lost track of what is important. Although drinking beer and laughing hysterically might seem important at the time, you spend more than enough time doing both of these things already, and can afford to cut back a bit. Also, stop lying to people; clear nail varnish DOES NOT FIX EVERYTHING, and sometimes it's better to throw something away or use ACTUAL GLUE to fix it. It's just misleading to keep insisting otherwise. Although if you do invest in any actual glue in the near future, try to avoid gluing your hand to a porcelain model of a bus this time.

Another important point to address is that eye-creams and green tea are NOT a substitute for sleep. You actually do have to close your eyes occasionally to avoid looking like the cryptkeeper.

And stop accepting Jaegerbombs on work nights!! It never ends well!

Yours disapprovingly,

Ellen

Poetree, or 'shut up, you pretentious bitch'

I would dearly love to write poetry
But I can't, for I have not a brain
I can sing, I can cook and can argue
But I try to compose rhyme in vain
I wish I possessed such a talent
To allow me to pour out my soul
But alas, I can find no such whimsy
For my heart is as vital as coal
Oh I wish I could write lovely poetry
My ev'ry thought captured with it
But unfortunately I am fated
To write this unbearable shit

Bloodstock video

Hier ist eine kleine video of Neonfly at Bloodstock... not sure who that pink git on the far end is though...