I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
the infamous Bo. Very importantly, I have my own room and all manners of black and pink accessories which I can freely scatter or place as I so wish. I have even learned how to make my bed; a concept previously very foreign to me and something I’m only partaking in because a dishevelled black and pink bed-set goes unappreciated. Making a bed clearly brings on a very heavy sweat however and is an activity that should be carried out alone...
I found it most appropriate that the first song I heard when I cranked up the radio on getting into the flat was Boogie 2Nite:
‘I’ve found a place where we can boogie’
And boogie we shall. The parties have been sparse for months, owing to a number of circumstances beyond our control, largely the lack of free space in which to party/carry on/make a tit of ourselves but now that we are free of the clutches of our parents, let the parties commence. Let the neighbours begin the weekend routine of banging on the ceiling, thumping on the floor and gingerly knocking on the door to sheepishly request that you turn the mismash of tunes down as The Bo and I fight for airspace (Libertines Vs Britney) and dance space in our ace flat. Oh, Saturday did see the beginning of good things to come… Oh and of course, that’s why, three days on I still feel like a giant bag of turd: rose wine, champagne, wine liqueur…at least I was consistent and refrained from The Bo’s lethal bloody marys. Oh she deserved to lose herself in beef and tomato pot noodles the following day.
And so I go prepare myself for the impending hair wash, it’s all just too much.
Meeting new people; Golden Boy for instance
Evening walks in the snow with my special friend
My massive flat, there’s nae need really :-)
Until I Find You – John Irving
Not feeling mental…
Casa Del FeeBo!
1/23/2007 04:24:00 PM
1/15/2007 06:29:00 PM
Mr Trashwhore who, despite languishing in a prison cell, still managed to blog and still managed to get in the press for his efforts) but I barely remember anything I was allegedly taught (brain fried by alcohol is my excuse). The thought of actually getting a job that related to this degree seemed to diminish every day that I didn’t hate the admin job I was doing. Ok I was a glorified word processor with a bit of free reign but I had a fantastic time working there. I met some amazing people who have graduated from work colleagues to friends and of course I met The Oldest Lesbo I Know who graduated from work colleague to friend to special friend :-) So, while it was very difficult to leave, when my new job arose I had to go for it, not thinking of course that I’d get it considering my degree is more than a little out of date. Nevertheless, I did get it and it was one of a few good things that occurred in a pretty crappy year and am now an Editorial Assistant; rolls off the old tongue pretty well.
I was asked, when interviewed, if I’d mind doing my training in Milan. Hmmm, I slipped into a day dream/coma of pizza and cheese and ice cream and thought, yeah, I can do Milan. And so my first week in the job was in Milan. I couldn’t wait to tell my work colleagues who of course already thought I was something of a compulsive liar due to the fact that I had banged on about my trip to Australia for most of the year which suddenly didn’t come off and then there was the ‘my brother is in South Africa working in a monkey sanctuary’ story so it didn’t look too good for my case when I couldn’t tell anyone what the job was, only that I was going to Milan. But I really was supposed to go to Australia, and my brother did work in a monkey sanctuary and Milan actually was compulsory!
And so I did Milan; I could have been in Dundee for all I saw of it however but I did come back home, as I suspected I might, you know with my lack of self control and all, 10 tonnes heavier. I was so considerably laden down with wheat and cheese and coffee that I was required to book 2 seats for the return journey. Am still trying to shake off the excess weight but the belly is a stubborn thing, it likes its new larger form and is clinging on for dear life. But anyway, it’s all been in vain as I return to the city of dough next week so if you look aloft and see a heavily lopsided plane heading toward Aberdeen, you’ll know that I am on my way home. Ah, life is sweet.
And so I go exercise my vocal cords because the only person I have spoken to today is my dad, 4 hours ago. Never thought that I, the anti-social, would miss working in a public office.
Unpacking all my crap, so much more fun than the despresso packing part
Being back blogging, three posts in five days, yay
How loyal fellow bloggers are
BEBO…! Anyone else on???
My perpetual throat clearing, brand new and very annoying
Being a skinto
My smashed Britney picture, oh well, new flat new Britney
That I will have to do my own washing from now on, hmpf
My skinners, sure they were flared not straight legged when I bought them...
Listening to: Sharam’s ‘Party all night long’ cos I really want to…
1/10/2007 01:06:00 PM
I used to love Pantomimes... back in the day when there was all that lesbo action (you know, when Prince Charming was played by a woman and got it on with the rugged Cinderella in front of an audience of thousands?) But now, the leading man is actually played by, shock horror, a man! Scandalous I tell you. And what’s worse, he’s played by a man in tights. I hate men in tights, especially when their tunics do not cover their balls. Vile. I also hate ladies in tights but at least they come without testicles.
Anyway, when the Oldest Lesbo I Know expressed an interest in going to Aberdeen’s version of Cinderella, sans children, I mocked her something chronic. The thought of all that lyrca and over acting made we want to vomit the contents of my stomach across her lap. I didn’t bank on my favourite River City** star, Roisin (pronounced Rosheeeeeen) acting the part of wait for it… the Fairy Godmither (note that’s mither, not mother) so, when two free tickets became available, The Bo and I really had to go. Roisin is a local legend. She’s all teeth and hair and has a chin that would make desperate dan quake in his boots, as would her oh-so feminine voice...
Clearly there was a reason the tickets were free however; we were sandwiched between a phantom farter and kids who were high on the multitude of E numbers they consumed throughout the performance. We fitted in just fine and I had to curb The Bo’s enthusiasm with a a couple of swift kicks as she drooled and whooped and wolf whistled at the Prince Charming and his crown jewels.
The double entendres were as predictable as mine, the ice cream was over priced, the light show was tacky, the singing and acting, as always, was well over dramatic, Prince Charming got the girl when it really should have been gay buttons who laid claim on her, there were people dancing wearing animal heads (another ‘pet’ hate, ha) and the traditional ‘get kids on stage and make them sing’ moment was as funny as a fart with a follow through but, Roisin and her dulcet Aberdonian tones was ace. She was almost a bit too heavy for the strings holding her aloft (think it was her massive fringe weighing her down) but to be in the same room as the woman I have admired and based myself on was fabulous. Life will in fact never be the same again.
So, despite swallowing other people’s ass air and trying to control ADHD kids with a few well aimed elbow prods, we had a very good time… Oh yes we did.
And so I go sink into a delicious Roisin daydream where a woman with a man’s chin and voice is my girlfriend… and you can too by following this link, but please remember: I saw her first.
Getting the keys for our new abode today, woo hoo
My new job, more info to follow I’m sure
Listening to my bright pink Nano, undisturbed, at work, all day long…
Gillian McKeith back on TV tomorrow, oh life is good
Not being a mentalist, how long can it last?
Packing for the 3rd time this year
Having inadvertently packed all my clothes, which I actually need
My filthy hair, hoops an’ all
My £200 phone bill from Milano, sweet jesus
The massive man in tights with a huge deer head, poncing around like a gigantic fanny
** River City - a Scottish TV programme. Its shite acting and crap storylines have earned it cult status mostly amongst students and twenty somethings with nothing better to do of an evening (clearly, myself included)
1/08/2007 01:54:00 PM
Far too much has happened since I last wrote to tell you my tales of New York and of meeting hot L Word Lesbos, so much in fact that I have begun writing a flippin’ novel of the trials and tribulations of my last 6 months. It’s been accepted for publication by ‘Yeah Right, You Fat Lesbo Inc’ so please do look for it on the bottom shelf of your local bargain book shop or, while sitting catching all manners of disease on a public toilet, look left and you’ll find it in place of toilet roll.
I thought it was about time I spoilt you all over again with my crap tales of lesbo life. So just when you thought, phew, lesbo has gone for good this time, I’m back baby, I’m back. And this time I’m thinner and more fabulous than the last time. Hold on till I wipe the remnants and cheese and bullshit from my lips.
How was New Year for you? I had a bloody brilliant time with The Bo, plenty of drunken debauchery to go around I’ll tell you. Who’d of thought hanging out in the local pub, listening to a band playing Everybody Hurts could be so much fun? Let’s not forget getting blacklisted from a crap party full of half-breeds in togas who dissed us with calls of ‘lesbians’ as we tried to get the hell out. Much crazy dancing ensued with a side portion of broken light fittings and a large helping of macaroni cheese. You really did have to be there; it was fully, fully fabulous.
As it is the season, I made a few resolutions I’d like to share with you, though I’m sure you’ll wonder why I bothered.
1.Have a better 2007 than 2006 – should be an easy one to carry out
2.Write my blog regularly again, and read all the ones I’ve missed; have forgotten just how therapeutic the world of blogging really is
3.Be less of a mentalist – have failed on this account already but am attempting to redeem myself
4.Stay away from fellow mentalists
5.Party more; this one should be very do-able considering I’m moving into a flat with The Bo very shortly
6.Clean my hair more often – the smell of dirty hair is gonna be rife in our flat; surely hair cleans itself after a certain amount of time?
7.After having lived at home for 4 months it’s now time to re-appreciate the folks
8.Get rid of my baggy belly, finally (for the record, this is highly unlikely)
9.Try and change my entire personality (see also number 3)
10.Attempt to get over my issues with lycra, swim-wear and nudity in art
So, in the words of my Bo, ‘new year, new life’. Feel free to stick around and see how that works out…
1/05/2007 09:04:00 AM
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Come to the Dark Side...
Dirty Little Homos
Fash Mag Slag
Het (aka Quickfit)
Hit the Jag Spot...
Knee Deep In It...
Life and Times of a Desperado
On Top of the World>