I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
Anyway, I'm here today to set myself some targets. I don't know what grade I will get overall. At the moment it's pretty much a 2:2. There is a very slim chance I could get a 2:1, no chance I will get a first and hopefully I will not get a third. So, I'm pretty much settled on a 2:2. Not bad for a girl who puts no effort into anything. However, if on the off chance (it's about a 3% chance at the moment) I do happen to somehow get a 2:1, I am setting myself some tasks. They sound more like punishments than celebrations but I figure, if I can get a 2:1 then I can do these things easliy. I also figure that as I am very unlikely to get this grade that I will not have to do these things. Call me weird. Call me whatever you like. Most people do but here are my tasks that I will carry out, should I stun the world and get a better grade.
1) Having never been upside down on a roller coaster and being scared to do so, I will do this.
2) I will watch a scary movie at the cinema. Something else I have never done and hoped I never would.
3) I will give up cheese for 2 weeks
4) I will read a 'classic', if I manage to stay awake.
5) I will wear a skirt to graduation
6) I will get a new piercing
7) I will lose weight (giving up cheese for 2 weeks may allow me to do this...)
8) I will learn to drive
Ok that'll do. I don't want to eradicate all my fears and insecurities in one go for christ sake. It will be about three weeks until I find out whether I will need to bare my legs for a day and pierce my fanny (well where else is there left to do?) and give up my true love for 14 days so I'm sure you will be near the first to know the outcome. So, I go now to was the grease right outta my hair, paint my nails - fingers and toes, pink and black respectively, - and contemplate begging for a job at McDonalds. Life is well smart.
5/30/2003 10:55:00 AM
Bagels and Cheese
Cheese and Bagels
Poof porn. What an eye opener. Ahem.
Smelly belly buttons
Friggin Westlife. It has to stop Bo.
Two-day hangovers and the smell that goes with them.
Sporting motif sweatbands. Doubt it.
Everyone in Big Brother, especially the nob in the scrunchie. What is it with you people?
PS This is the third time I have written this, due to my slow computer crashing and it did all sound much better the first time. Honest.
5/26/2003 12:51:00 PM
And so I go to admire my new 7 (yes you read it right) brand spanking new sweatbands, bringing my current total to about 45. Have now taken to wearing about 5 at once just so they can all get a viewing. So sad. So true.
My new pink leather fingerless gloves from The Gentleman
Uni being over for good - tomorrow
The return of Big Brother - tomorrrow
Eurovision Song contest party - saturday
My GI Jane ensemble. Dyke.
The random nerd munching on a cereal bar but she's hot so we'll forgive her
The twatt in the hair scrunchie on the bus but she was hot so we'll almost forgive her
The hairy armpitted geek across from me with more nasal hair than i have pubes and she is not hot and we will most definitly not forgive her
Faaaaaaaaaaaar too many geeks in sweatbands who suit them as well as I may suit a crew cut. No comments please.
Gelled hair - has this ever been cool? Didn't think so. Stop it.
5/22/2003 02:10:00 PM
Friday was pub night. Five hours of drinking ‘press the button happy hour’ drinks, at least 7 you’ll be astounded to know, with the usual rabble of ten which culminated in the welcome return of Fee spewage. It was grainy, painful and vile but still it felt better than the spinny double vision my pathetic amount of drinks had bestowed upon me.
Saturday saw an early, hungover and sweaty morning which got sweatier after 2 hours of dancemat and which got hazier as the day progressed due to the intensity of the hangover and the effort it took to string a whole 500 words together on gay ethics, a topic I once thought I may be interested in and now I give as much as a turd about it as I do naked cock. Or any kind of cock, clothed or otherwise, for that matter.
Evening came and so did big balls. Bowling balls. I won, The Queen of Fun won, two poofs won, the other four were last, everyone was moody and the arcade version of the dance mat was out of order. No, me and my large weight had not previously been and pummelled my whole body weight into the machine causing it to break down. Conversation was limited, alcohol did not flow freely and someone won 30p in a machine. Bed was very much welcomed.
Sunday was a blue sky day, unusual but true. A further 1500 words were concocted from somewhere on that subject I now care for as much as I care for my 15 bellies. The words were immature and rushed and the skates were donned and I fell over not once. My glittery wheeled boots were the bomb but I lasted only 15 minutes because someone couldn’t get off the ground in her roller blades and I can’t skate alone. Along comes our lift and out the window goes our hoped plans for hanging with certain people who stayed in because they are dull (or lazy) and talk to you like you are an oaty turd they just scrapped off their gay shoe. Dance mats in full working order but too much of an audience ensured the dollops would not make an ass of themselves publicly. Some coppers were won, some air hockey played, some competitive streaks shown, a burger consumed, too much wind in hair and a heap of ice cream devoured before the return journey. On return, the double dance mat made an appearance and Bombs were dropped, new songs discovered and the perspiration dripped as liberally as an over-eager fanny. Bed was not early enough.
Another early morning on Monday saw dollop numero uno on the dance mat for 10 minutes before ‘the annoying jerk from downstairs’ came by, arms folded, big calves bulging and smug grin etched across face to demand no more dolloping on the dance mat (again) as now dollops and their lardy dance-matting-ness have made cracks in his ceiling. Had I not have answered the door in make-shift pyjamas (was only expecting the postman and my glorious pyramid belt), with chuff hanging out I would have asked Fat Calves to show me his crack. Or maybe I would have left that till a day that Beautiful Boy was over. Whatever, days of dance mat are well and truly over, as it the possibility of me losing any one of my 15 bellies.
Still having around a week to do two of my remaining three courseworks, I figured I would take advantage of the warm weather. So on Tuesday, once again, the skates were wedged onto wide feet and I whizzed round the park slower than a lazy eye and wobbled and wibbled like a large belly free of clothes. Sleep was well needed. The dollop exhausts easily.
Wednesday was much the same, though someone got off the ground in blades this time, I fell too close (not close enough you may think) to a water fountain, had a picnic, had some lovely kisses, watched cottaging fags who were over sixty years old and had on cooler jeans than me, and went for coffee with The Gentleman before getting 76 lectures at work over many things from the state of my unironed shirt to the positioning of my badge on my unironed shirt (too close to nipple) to not charging my phone at work (I wasn’t) to me being a spoilt kid to the amazing televsion genius of ‘I’m a celebrity, get me out of here’. The hours between 9am and 5pm clearly made for an enjoyable day while the hours between 6-9pm were as dull as those people who sit on their arses all day all night in favour of fresh air and dare I say, a walk.
And so while my week has been vaguely more entertaining than I have described, yes really it has been, after next Wednesday, I plan on day-tripping, drinking up to seven drinks every two days in celebration of being finished with this school crap, and learning to actually stop on my roller boots before I reach the wall so be warned that the misadverntures of Fee and Co will hopefully begin real soon. Summer party season is just about here and I have my flip flops, water gun and paddling pool all ready. And maybe just maybe then I will think about getting a real job. We’ll see.
5/08/2003 02:24:00 PM
Tiki enquired as to whether I will have an outfit to go with my new four wheeler booties. Well Miss Tiki, let me tell you bout the gear that will go perfectly with my speed queen shoes. Seeing as the boots are so obviously very 80s I must continue with this trend. A swanky pair of leg warmers (red and black striped or fuscia because who the hell cares what coordinates?), scrunched down (4 folds per leg) on top of my jeans and over my boots will look the bomb. As will a new skirt, preferably black and white camoflage (or my new pink camo one), over my faded flared black jeans (NB Not skinner 1980s rock star). A layered look of tee shirts and vests of varying colours will be adorned to cover top half flab and of course on the right wrist there will be 34 plastics bangles also of varying colours and on the left I will be sporting my new mesh sleeve (not quite the arm warmer I was after but hell it's flourescent pink) and multiple sweatbands which will ensure I sweat profusely and have an arm fatter than my thigh. Yes, it will be that large. And there you have it. Fee's Roller Skating Get-up. Neither cool, coordinated or practical for the physical purpose I intend wearing it but hey, all in the name of roller skating fun. As it is, as is the weather in this delightful shithole, I have not yet graced the streets of Aberdeen on my quad wheels. But dont worry, as soon as I do, as soon the rain decides it's ruined enough of my days off, this dollop will be cruising as with as much decorum as a whore in an orgy, through the parks of Aberdeen for as long as my large legs will allow. 3 minutes and 26 seconds is my estimate.
Off I go to drink beer and think and dream about my personalied glitterised skates and the day we can be together properly.
Enjoy your weekend, only two more weeks til I can return to my usual blogging activities. It's very exciting. Maybe not for you however but for me I miss my daily rants and less frequently, raves so my return is long overdue.
Hope its sunnier where you are.
5/02/2003 03:15:00 PM
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Ariel Pay it Forward
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>