I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
I’m sitting here having a silk cut which even I am surprised my minimal funds have stretched to. I would have been enjoying it more had I not have drank Fanta fruit twist prior to lighting up. Why bother inventing ‘new flavours’ that taste of tangy piss? Not that I know what tangy piss tastes like of course. I do know what Guinness flavoured piss tastes like but that is another story completely. I also fulfilled my one of my quests, not to find depraved porn or to get thin cos let’s face it, neither of them are likely to occur within my lifetime but I did manage to track down a packet of Marmite crisps. Disappointed I was not. While tasting not unlike traditional roast beef flavour, they were even more beefy and more salty (rather like unwashed lady parts I imagine) so I am left satisfied. I also had a packet of opal fruits not 2 hours ago so I think I have almost reached full nutritional value for today.
For the past 2 days I have attended university. I managed half a class yesterday. As soon as the ‘group work’ exercise was announced I had to leave. I do not work well with others. I really don’t. I am kinda left sitting on the edge of the group thinking about what colour to do my nails or endlessly checking my phone for the text messages I never get while the others debate and discuss our set project. Desperate not to put myself through this torture I considered holding my stomach and blaming the over
indulgence in tap water as my reason to leave. But I simply announced to the lecturer I was leaving and she said ‘fine’. No questions asked. Jeez, lecturers make skiving off far too easy so I did not feel bad about wandering around in town unproductively. I met Beautiful Boy briefly and we made some Friday plans. It’s one of them movie marathon days. There was much debate over whether we would go and see Britney’s new film or ET, both of which are released on Friday. We will do both. We will sit like big turds, me panting heavily at 2 hours of Britney and Beautiful Boy panting heavily at ET in the bath with Elliot.
I had coursework due in today, deadline of 1pm. I should have been up all night working on my masterpiece. I went to bed at 9.30pm. I should have risen at dawn today. I got up at 10am. I pieced it together as badly as a three year old attempting a 1000 piece jigsaw doped up on calpol. It’s not that I don’t care about my marks. Writing formally is really not my thing. I now have to come up with some PowerPoint creation and present my placement experience to the class. I have already selected the Jo Guest pictures that will be the main focal point. Anything to take the attention from my shaky red face which gives everyone a great laugh, myself not included. I don’t speak well in public either. In fact I don’t think I do anything well unless I am sat here on my own. But then I think badly. I conjure up all sorts of images that should never be made public. I shouldn’t be left on my own. So, I am by far from a people person but then spending time on my own makes me mad so what’s to do? I considered checking myself into Cornhill
(psychiatric hospital) for awhile as I felt I would be the least mad person in there and come out diagnosed ‘unmad’. But then I thought of all the non-possibilities for meeting potential ladies so decided against it. It would give some interesting tales however. Maybe I will reconsider it for the sake of research.
Another reason my coursework was shit (apart from the utter lack of effort put into it) is because of Britney. No, for once she wasn’t sat on my knee distracting me but I came across a ‘test your Britney IQ’ on the Internet. Rather than try not to fail my course I had to pass a Britney test. I just had to. I got a perfect score. I always do. I am a Britney genius, or as they put it, a Britney stalker. I wish. You can’t stalk someone you are going out with, it doesn’t work. I also heard nasty rumours that MY Britney was booed at at her premier yesterday. Those vicious little fucks are gonna feel my wrath (as well as my fist up their various orifices). How dare
they?! The only people I know who would boo at my baby are my evil friends who think its lots of fun to tell me that Christina is better than Britney. People can be so cruel, but don’t you worry Britney, I still love you.
And this weblog entry has unimpressed me greatly and I really have to find something of interest to write about in future. I know I keep promising this and maybe one day (probably around the same time I find quality porn and lose 5 stone) it will happen. Iapologise profusely readers, if there are actually any of you left.
Listening to: britney
Having my own flat for 6 days
Not being at work
British Flavour Crisps
People who at least pretend to care
Trying to get over stuff
Waiting for texts
The coughing hack in my class
My baggy fanny jeans
Being shit in the Fame Game
3/26/2002 10:13:00 PM
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