Diary of a Glitter Splashed Britney Lovin' Lesbo

I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else

Name:Miss Fee


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Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Tuesday, February 10

I am such a masochist.

Firstly, I bought Wrong Turn on DVD despite the fact that I watched it in the cinema and quote shit myself unquote. It was a hideous film that I found especially difficult to watch and which induced months of nightmares. You would think a sane person would not wish to put themselves through all that again but I found myself counting the days till its release and struggling over whether to purchase this or Tomb Raider, having money for only one. So, basically it was a fight between Angelina in lycra or Eliza Dushku in bootcuts, desert boots and wife beater. Sorry Miss Jolie but even If watching Wrong Turn would wreak havoc with my mind for weeks after, Eliza in all her hotness was something not to be missed. And yeah, watching it twice deifintely did not make it easier on the mind but at least this time we had the beauty of a fastforward button.

Secondly, despite being so completly frustrated, to the point I wanted to yank clumps of my hair out with each stupid page I turned, with it I read Powerbook by Jeanette Winterson to the painfully shite end. It's a book I have been meaning to read for ages because the blurb was completely alluring and inviting but I swear it was the biggest waste of a week ever. It was so flowery and disjointed and didn't deliver any of the exciting plot it promised. At least someone knows how to write a good blurb because the book did nothing it said on the package. I persevered because I so desperately wanted it to unravel itself and reveal what I was hoping for i.e less unrelated spew and more hot plot but alas I was utterly disappointed and have vowed never to read another Jeanette Winterson. Others I have read of hers previously have not disappointed but here I think Winterson ruined a chance at a completely original plotline by filling it up with regurgitated bile.

And the third example of my masochistic tendencies which are lingering around of late is that despite having caught my thumb on the grater and being in total agony, I am still madly texting away albeit less vigorously than usual. With each click of the worn down buttons this searing pain goes shooting through my entire body eventually delivering a spasm of sorts but still I text on. I think I am addicted to text. Like there is any disputing that fact.

Anyway, I am going to sit through (though not actually 'watch') River City which is a clear demonstration of my masochistic ways. Why else would I sit through this atrocious Scottish soap which boasts the worst acting, the ugliest cast and the most harsh array of accents TV has witnessed since Baywatch. At least Baywatch had red swimmers and boobs and not shell suits and scrunchies.

Listening to: The Rapture