i think im a bit in love

...and dont even act like you're not. and hes only like a year older than me.

i dont care if you're into "big" men and bruty boys and football, this guy is something else

there is nothing more attractive than someone that shouldn't be attractive - but is.

that "skinny skater boy" haha. the dude hair, the structured skinny face, the bare chest and skinnys, the cigarrette and the tattoos are just bonus'ing here...

no joke, i think ive finally found the celebrity "one" haha. and hes only a year old than me. oop. did i already say that? :)

cop a look at these badboys. and he's a model, so try tell me he's not hot, i'll sling you a link to his Vogue front covers - and you know you're hot when you're in Vogue!

ps; his teeth could be better, but all the best people know, faults with faces are interesting :)

do your damn revision

dont wine at me your exams are coming up while your on study leave this summer my A level students. dont whine at me and tell me how much its getting you down. to be frank, i dont care. yeah, im not in your boat, yeah i dont have to think about anything after i finish my day at work, but likewise, im on the constant subconcious budget - id marvel at you working out what exactly you would do with £2 to stretch dinners in the last week before payday... probs go out for a couple in Opus on a thursday night aye?

ultimately, you couldnt be arsed to think for yourself and went into 6th form, dreaming of your parties at uni in two years time. well i hope your qualifications in world development means you get to hang with a real fun bunch at some Met uni up north. and i hope you meet some interesting people and do totally wild things... i mean you constantly highlight how disgusted you are with my lifestyle from time to time. god forbid you forget your own name and make a few mistakes in your time...

i probably am bitter at my lack of chance, but just dont whine please, else ill

bitter all over your face

.

ps. when your results come in, dont invite me to your parties of educated folk... you have already made it quite clear to me you think im odd. i have no time for your immature quibber of what bodycon dress youre going to wear at graduation - as fashion organization is key right? i mean, its only 4 years away? best get lookin' now!!!

pss. this rant does in no mean apply to all A Level students about to take your final exams. i have no doubt that there is some people out there able to sit zero resits and be applying to decent universities with genuine intentions. i have every faith in you guys and i wish so bad i was doin' it with you. i hope you kick ass and create some cancer fighting shit when your out or design me some sweet fashion lines to wear when im a bit older and a bit richer.

xo

a better blog than mine

http://shitinmyskull.blogspot.com/2008_02_01_archive.html

so heres a guy actually being constructive with his blog - space rather than a massive bitch. even if he does piss on his own art from time to time. i like it cus its pretty tom - ish. not for the piss aspect, but his style is sick too. infact, hes gettin a link on facebook right now.

xo

30 + year old women must hate me

so call me arrogant - but hear me out first!

im sitting at work (for the first time all week - i just refused to go all last week, the weather is too beautiful to waste on earning money), in my metal box/furniture warehouse, organising runs, drivers and deliveries for the next day, and im literally in a trance watching the others that work here. now, in my mind i've categorized the majority. these are as follows;

* polish driver - making the most money he can and sending it all back to his family... generally communication with these guys are limited to "hello - how you doing? mm, bye"
* polish admin - found UK to be a bit comfy and have set up home - 90% of the time a good laugh, can have a chat, except when ones your manager and has the most ridiculous diet known to man kind and is just grumpy cus he cant eat the haribo
* polish warehouse staff - NEVER speak to these guys if your female and under the age of 30, theyve named you english girls by bra size and they dont care if you need a box lifting down from the racking - "YOU RACK IS GOOD" - and thats all that matters.
* english staff (the few thats left...) - all round good bunch of normal people with normal lives, like laughing at my a "bit less normal" self as it makes thier life a bit less normal too

and then we have;

*regardless-of-nationality-women-over-30 category - NOW THESE ARE A NIGHTMARE. i just watch them whinge and whine. none of them LIKE ANYTHING. not thier husband, thier children, thier sisters children, next door's kids, thier thighs, thier waist. thier cars shit, they hate food shopping, they hate food, breathing too... sometimes i just hate bouncing into work with a smile on my face. im shunned for my use of COLOUR in day to day dress. and any PATTERN?! well, i can just fuck off basically.
:-/ like its starting to bother me... but then i think hold on a teeny second! now i have nothing against the generation of working mothers (or vice versa - my friend dani hasnt been to work in longgg!) - i think the whole concept is really good for the UK's economy and keeping trade secrets in with the experts. nothing worse than the top dog getting preggers and in 9 months have to dish the dirty secrets to a spotty 16 year old who couldn't get a grade at GCSE, to cover the business while shes gone... but i think they should definitely come to terms with the fact theyve probably not been doing alot for a good few years. i.e, theyre totally and absolutely STUMPED we have the same job and salary. like, i am literally feeling thier guts getting ripped out when they look at me everyday totally not worried that this might be the rest of my life. i suppose for them they might actually care less about thier job than me, but they know they will probably work here a few days a week until they're 65... thats a good 30 more years. whereas i will openly announce my plans and hopes for the future.

i guess it must suck to be thirty if youre a crap thirty year old. you must hit a wall. the plataeu of nothing. just the day to day grind. surburban nightmare! wake up, wash your kids, feed your kids. wash yourself, maybe feed yourself, drive them all to school. drive yourself to work, get to work. be at work, eat too much crap at work, feel fat at work, whinge at work, be whinged at at work, go home. get home, feed the kids, wash the kids, try desperately to put the kids to bed, fail. try and talk to your husband, husbands asleep, dont bother washing, sleep... and then all again? whilst feeling fat still. must be terrible...

i hope they get over thier issue with me. like its not that i dont care, im just refusing to not have fun! so what if im hungover at the desk - your coffee breath is worse than my vodka sweat. and you cant even help that, cus your so stuck in "getting old" you wont bother to afford that clean at the dentist. and your too busy feeding your fat self on marks and spencer wine and salmon sandwich you wont even buy yourself a box of tic tacs on your break. you'll just keep smoking those cigarrettes you shoulda quit the day you became pregnant. you'll refuse to stop your temptation of the cake lady on friday afternoons. you'll be too scared to quit your job to spend time at home in your pride - of - joy house and spend time with your kids and that man you once couldnt live without. i bet half these women cant remember the last time them and thier dudes went out for dinner... its real sad.

ill refuse to fall too deep in. in some aspects im kinda excited to get a bit mature. to get some perspective on the real world. but ill never hate on the young girl with the scruffy hair and piercings on the desk in front of me. i wont even be at a desk. ill probs be chillin in my custom brand boutique with my kids, while they help me hand paint my new kids-art inspired smock dress. ill just never be like them. EVER EVER EVER. and looking at them everyday and feeling thier hate and to some extent, jealousy, makes me all the more excited to achieve :)

xo

the sun is shining, and the weather is... FUCKING HOT.,

duuuude, have you seen the weather today? gutted to the holidaymakers of these past few days - its hotter than Athens in MK today! :)

so i stayed up kinda late with tom last night, smokin some doobs and drinkin some portoguese viiiinooo. i made him like, THE BEST dinner EVER. grilled chick'onn alla leemon drizzala avec stuffed pepper! i'd be surprised if he didnt do a little excited dance when he saw it haha. we had this dreamy ass sleep (except i got shot in my dream by that crazy cumbria man with a gun...), woke up at like 11 maybe? then to finish a sleepover well, of course, we had breakfast with blueberries. nom nom nom.

i called bizz cus i just couldnt bare to waste an eighth and this weather so we met at skate park in newps. the problem i had was the 14 year old (at a guess - you never know with kids these days) juston bieber hair cut boys. like - NO JOKE. all fucking like... eight i think of them with the SAME haircut. now, ive heard this kids like some phenomenon of the pop culture of that age group right now (literally no importance to me...) but like, is this what everyone saw our generation as when all the boys had david beckham cuts? or the era of the "curtain"... "french crop"..."nike-tick-shaved-into-your-hair-cut"... cus i feel like a proper old lady laughing at them!! and theyre matching shorts. theyre not yet at an age i guess where anything goes. where if your shorts are slightly too high your whole year group will yell at you "GAYBOY" everyday of your schooling life. its so funny. kids are funny. at that vunerable age where your whole life depends on the people either side of you at that moment. whether you stick out too much, wether you're too tall, wether your'e wearing similar earrings, if you're having the same as them for lunch (do NOT daaaaare want chips for lunch if everyone else wants tesco!). it makes me question the desire to want to fit in...

im going out tonight infact. to one of the most devil places in milton keynes - Oceana. god forbid i wear heels and noone else is. haha! or dare to defy the rule of "black lace dress thursday". hahahahaha. i hope i can manage to stand out in that place. ill probably feel a bit sick if i dont. please please - all of you - pray for me to look different lol.

xo

good afternoon madame

so im back on track. lifes on a roll. stuffs finally in some kinda weaved direction... kinda like a boat with a really shitty sail - but i wont knock it - there was definitely a point when there was no sail at all...

to follow is gunna be a lot of twisted, political brashness, and general spite towards the general public - im not gunna lie! like, im a super nice person (honest!), i just hate anything stereotypical and common and it bothers me when i see people happily slipping into this. unfortunately, like a wise guy once told me, im the odd one out and unfortunately everyone actually thinks im the wierd one... so generally no one listens to me when i get passionate about stuff. not even my mum! haha.

im a writer at heart. like, i actually love it. babbling and ballsing and verbally abusing a subject until its so tired of being spanked of all its worth its screaming for me to quit with the metaphorics and such. if my parents had believed in me (and maybe if i believed in myself some more) i probably wouldve stamped all over a couple A levels in literature and happily studied some media and writing courses at uni. not that i think its easy, but i know i wasnt dumb, and generally speaking, other girls just like me are picking thier uni's as i type - sort of depressing. it seems the big dude upstairs chose a different path for me though - compared to every other eighteen year old i know, he sent my shitty sail into full time work 2 months after i took my GCSE's, as a desk dolly at various establishments so far, none of which ive EVER thought i could stay for the rest of my life. im sure you'll learn about my occupation in future posts - theres nothing about that place i wouldnt wanna rant about at times - good and bad.

anyway, i guess i want to exercise my only talent. im intrigued to see if anyone will really read it. perhaps its all in vain. perhaps im royally screwed in all truth. perhaps my boat with its shitty sails' gunna anchor itself into my polish rooted furniture company and ill meet my future husband there. gosh, maybe its destined my kids will even work there, and then ill live on the premises and... ARGH. STOP. ...so gross to think.

wait. my housemate just got home. you'll hear about her lots too. i promised i'd make dinner tonight... sorry

xo