Ever seen Aliens? Yeah it's probably a bit like that.

So yesterday's offering was a bit of a wry, tongue in cheek funscapade, prodding at my own personal swath of misery. As a creature of habit, today's post follows suit but with perhaps more of a BLOODYFUCKINGYOUWHATNOW? to it.

Now I have never been one to shy away from a taboo and indeed I think it positively unhealthy to do so. With that in mind and a possible sense of shit got real loneliness, I have decided to be forthcoming with my own current health, catastrofuck. (catastrofuck is a bit strong but I do like the way it rolls of the tongue).

Now as most people will know I am a qualified GP. Not in the normal, been to med school, done all the hard work, actually know what I'm talking about way. That's dull. No I have in fact graduated, with honours, from the University of Google . I'm basically the modern day version of the old village witch, sitting in my hovel doling out medical advice and pseudo-diagnosis to all in sundry, particularly myself.

Being an incessant hypochondriac has it's down points. Constantly believing you have an ailing organ or another and living in the fear, no knowledge, that you are going to keel over from a massive heart attack any day soon, has a pretty detrimental effect on your every day life. I have to actively avoid that little smiling twat Dr. on GMTV for example, in case I suddenly start convincing myself I have testicular cancer. There is, however a less obvious advantage of this utterly ridiclous and time wasting affliction. The ability to be totally aware of your own body and notice things going wrong quicker than the average shmuck.

Perhaps this is why I am so completely, gob floppingly shocked that the only real thing that has ever been wrong with me has utterly evaded my roving eye for possibly years and were it not for my poor suffering boyfriend, begging me to shut up and go and see a doctor, I would have continued to rule out as 'nothing to worry about'.

Basically, it turns out I have a giant alien entity billowing around in my abdomen, waiting to burst out of me like Jean Claude Van Damme punching his way through an elephant seal and I didn't even realise.

Now I'm used to grey, indistinguishable images, having been the owner of a Nokia 5320 for the past three years but an ultrasound is a whole new level of 'fucks that? As I laid there, contented with warm jelly and a smiling sonographer wiggling all over my belly (just the picture stick in her hand, not the sonographer) I was blissfully unaware of the horror about to be unveiled to me. The large black blob, that was first mistaken for my bladder was later explained to me as a 13cm ovarian cyst.

 I have called her Bertha. I find it helps to be anthropomorphic and besides, Bertha has a better ring to it than Potentially Life Threatening Glob of Internal Fluid.

Now ovarian cysts are very common in women of my age group, they can form naturally as part of ovulation, are usually harmless and disapear of their own volition but Bertha is one big ass mother fucker. The Dwayne Johnson of the of the vesicle world, you might say. And just like Dwayne Johnson (Sorry Jack), she is completely benign but ultimately a nuisance of the highest order and must be eviscerated . This means surgery and that means general anesthetic. Just as I was enjoying being made unemployed and confined to my hinterland prison cell, I'm now faced with my biggest life long fear. Cheers God, you massive invisible wanker.

I think most people who aren't dribbling, feckless, horror-movie inbreds are afraid of going under the knife and for many, the very thing that scares us most is the thought of being put to sleep like a foul breathed old farm dog. I am probably lucky in never having to deal with this before but in escaping it's dark velveteen grip for so long, general anesthetic is held in my mind as a dangerous and mysterious threat. I don't like the idea of being unaware of what some guy is doing in my abdomen. Poking around, losing bits and what not and I especially don't like the vision I have in my head of being put to sleep, resembling the dreams I have had in which I'm dying (not the best I've ever had, regardless of what Tears For Fears think). A warm hand of darkness stubbing me out, perhaps never to see the glow of life again. Forever floating, numb in a black sea.

Jesus, see, I go well fucking Tim Burton just thinking about it.

I am struggling to see a future in which I am walking voluntarily into the hospital and lying down voluntarily on the bed whilst some blue hatted psychopath, sticks a tube into my hand and creepily lulls me into the ether, promising definitely not to stick a finger up my bum or play Buckaroo on me whilst I'm out. I mean who the fuck would actually voluntarily do any of that? So I'm being forced to do this, through my own fear of mortality, because I've been advised not having this great big fucking lump of fuck taken out of me could eventually lead to sepsis, cancer or death. Led from the slaughterhouse to a smaller room where they just take bits off you instead.

I mean it's nuts right? Why haven't they invented something better? Like a tiny spaceship, like in that film where they go in the body and it's like a big sing song and the patient is like watching them travelling down his brachial artery doing old show tunes, on a monitor on the side of his bed, whilst exotic, be-sequined women feed him wine and pate.

 Paralysing people and strapping them to a cold blue table, whilst people in futuristic religious attire blow gas under their skin and prod big metal claws into every orifice they can? Bloody perverts. So much barbarism, where's the Hollywood sparkle?

I am totally appreciative to those of you sat here right now thinking 'shut up you fucking drama queen, a laparascopy? Keyhole surgery? pah, I had a triple heart bypass and six ribs removed without anesthetic' or whatever. For some people, this is just me whining like a little shitty five year old. You're probably right.

But I wanted to talk about it on here because I am shitting myself and it could mean all manner of complications, like me being infertile or having to piss in a bag for the rest of my life and those sorts of things shouldn't go unmentioned. Especially, seeing as I am super sensitive to my body and didn't pick up on it. So on a positive note, it's not cancerous and it is relatively simple surgery but bitches please, check your bits. If you notice any unusual pains, a hard swelling etc. go and make your doctor check you out. Most will go away and you'll be free to populate the land with your ungrateful screaming bastards as much as you see fit, but just on the off chance, better safe than sorry.

I'm probably going to document my journey into the NHS as best I can. From hilarious gynecological mishaps: 

"While you're down there doc!" *canned laughter*

to side-splitting anxiety anecdotes:

"Get the fuck off me, I'm not going anywhere near that fucking operating table, you blood lusting maniac" *Jerry Springer style OOOOOHHHH*

I'm going to aim to share with you my horrible and dignity stripping experiences from step 1 to my imminent death, sorry recovery.

On a plus note I now have a VERY valid reason for being fat.

*cries into Snickers*

The Woes of the Employed VS the Unemployed

Unemployment has been a much chattered subject of late, with politicians scrambling all over each other to think of new and more horrifying ways of punishing the disadvantaged. With the prospect of totally failing to find a job and the Tories new and effective method of getting me one (taking away my benefits) being tantamount to removing a patient's medicine to encourage them to get better, you'll forgive me for feeling a little hopeless.
 As I sit here in the dark grasp of unemployment, like most, I am of course struck by the terrible feelings of woe it yields. I've not been unemployed too long and being a creature of misanthropy, I have not forgotten the woes of the slightly better off, or indeed way back when I was a student, the woes of the blissfully unaware.
So who is the least joyful? Who's having the shittest time? Because it seems to me, when I speak to everyone else, we all think we are.
 I guess unhappiness is completely subjective and can only really be put in to perspective once you realise how shit things can actually be.
I have decided to compile a list of the complaints of both the better and the worser off, for your amusement and possibly enlightenment. Hopefully some of you may read this an become instantaneously struck with a sense of your own sickening, cosseted petulance.


Employed: "I'm so sick of the office calling me on the weekend, I mean come on, give a guy a break here!"

Unemployed: "MY PHONE'S RINGING, MY PHONE'S RINGING!!! YEAHHHH MAYBE IT'S AN INTERVIEW...nope, it's just Debt Express AGAIN."

Employed: "I hate Sundays, that feeling of knowing you've got to get up in the morning..."

Unemployed: "I hate Sundays, that feeling of knowing you have nothing to get up for EVER"

Employed: "I hope my boss doesn't find out the reason I didn't get that report out on time is because I've been trying to beat my best score on Solitaire for the past half an hour"

Unemployed: "I hope the wider world doesn't find out the reason I haven't washed in two days is because I have been awake for 48 hours trying to beat my best score on Spider Solitaire"

Employed: "How am I going to afford an outfit for this wedding when I don't get paid for another two weeks and I accidentally spent last month's wage on getting pissed and having a great time, generally"

Unemployed: "How am I going to afford washing powder for this wedding, to try and take the gravy stain out of the one dress left that fits me because food is the only comfort I have left in my life"

Employed: "Oh my god, oh my god, I shouldn't have taken out a Wonga, how the hell am I going to afford that mini-break in Paris next month now????"

Unemployed: "Oh my god, oh my god, I shouldn't have taken out a Wonga, to pay off that Quick Quid I got out to pay off that Payday Express I needed when I couldn't afford the bus to an interview, how the hell am I going to afford to eat?"

Employed: "I wish people would stop getting mad at me for not making it round at the weekends, I am a busy girl, I can't please EVERYBODY"

Unemployed: "I swear I used to have friends"

Employed: "It's totally unreasonable them asking me to work the day before, the day before Christmas Eve, I mean Christ  it's supposed to be the holiday season, how am I supposed to enjoy it knowing I'm basically the only person in the world still working that late"

Unemployed: "I wonder if Poundland pay you extra to work Christmas Day"

Employed: "I don't pay my taxes so that you can sit around on your arse, leading the life of luxury"

Unemployed: "I can't believe a moron like you has a job and I don't"

Employed: "I think it's totally unreasonable that the council only collect the recycling bins every two weeks, it's starting to look like there's been a party in Threshers in my garden"

Unemployed: "I wonder if I Sellotape the top of this half-drunk can of Skoll, it'll be fresh enough to take the edge off tomorrow?

Employed: "Classic night before payday tea: Beans on toast. #lol #retro #hurryupmoney"

Unemployed: "Classic night before dole day tea: Glass of water and a docker re-rolled from the ashtray"

Employed: "I wish I could afford to buy ALL my shopping from Waitrose, but I just nip there for my 'bits'"

Unemployed: "I wish I could afford my shopping"

Employed: "Yeah, so I'm thinking of going back to uni to retrain. Anything is possible if you really want it"

Unemployed: "I was thinking of going back to college to retrain but the Job Centre said they'd take my benefits off me"

Employed: "Excuse the mess, I'm no domestic goddess, I always say: a clean house is the sign of a wasted life"

Unemployed: "A clean house is a sign of someone with too much self-esteem"

Employed: "Was that the door? Yippeeeee, my ASOS has arrived!"

Unemployed: "Was that the door? Shit, hide. I hope I locked all the windows. Bailiffs can't break an entry right?"

Employed: "I am so unhappy with my phone contract right now, I'm going to kick off with Orange, I mean how am I supposed to play Farmville all day with only 1000mb?"

Unemployed: "I haven't had a text message in 3 weeks. I guess people got fed up of me not replying"

Employed: "Yah, so I'm going on this no meat diet because like the rain forest or some shit is dying and like we all have a responsibility and I mean that's what it said in the Guardian and anyway I need to lose a few pounds before we go off to the Maldives. #bikinibody #savingtheworld"

Unemployed: "There is only so much plain rice you can eat before you seriously start considering butchering your own pets"

Employed: "I really need to get myself a winter wardrobe, I mean I have like two coats for the whole season, and don't even talk to me about jumpers, I shrank my best one in the wash last year, it was from Topshop, what an idiot"

Unemployed: "Those clothes bins in the car park. How hard do you reckon it would be to reach into that weird scoop thing and pull out a pair of shoes?"

Employed: "I have been up all night worrying about bills"

Unemployed: "I have been up for 3 days worrying about there not being a meaning to life"

Employed: "What I really need right now is some 'me time' "

Unemployed: "Does anybody have the number for The Samaritans?"

Employed: "It's total bollocks that there's no jobs, my Dad found me one in like A DAY"

Unemployed: "I think my email is broken, maybe I'm a ghost. I mean even a rejection letter right now would help, just so I know I'm not actually dead and this is some sort of cruel Limbo, where I'm forced to spend every waking minute knowing my existence is seemingly of no use to anybody anywhere. Only really leaving the house every two weeks to go to the Job Centre, to lose any scrap of encouragement I have left from the many other spectres, loping around in abject misery"

Happy Teatime guys xxxxxxxxxxxxx

HELP

A Desperate Appeal

Now, I shall get right to the point, I'm in a desperate situation. The last time I felt this shitty and hopeless was as a penniless teen, picking apart dock ends and rolling them into new fags, crying as the taste of burnt chemicals and shame dripped miserably down my lungs for that 8 second nicotine hit I had become so repentantly dependant on.
Today, Fleetwood Mac announced the dates of their five day UK tour, tickets go on sale Friday...and they're not cheap!
Those of you who know me will understand my plight, my favourite and probably the best band in the world are playing an hour away from me and I probably will never have another opportunity to see them again. I don't get paid till next week and even if by some miracle there are still some tickets left, I was too busy fantasising about being Stevie Nicks at school to concentrate and learn anything and so my job brings me in less than the average five year old gets in pocket money every week, the spoilt little BASTARDS.
I'm going to get straight to it and ask you to look deep into your hearts (and wallets) and see if you can't find a few spare bob to help a miserable ginger warble and cry joyfully for a few hours in October.
It's really embarrassing isn't it?
I don't care.

Underneath I will attempt to give you some valid reasons to aid my worthy cause:

• They are my favouritest band ever and I listen to them all the time and more than anyone else (probably)
• When Topshop decided to shit all over everything and start selling their t-shirts, I couldn't afford one, so I made one myself, WITH MY OWN HANDS (and iron)
• I'm 27 this year and I still live with my parents
• I was born clinically ginger and have consequently been battling the prejudice and sunburn associated  with such a terrible affliction all my life.
• I was going to try prostitution to try and get tickets and then I realised I can't even get people to sleep with me for free :(
• Everyone who donates, gets to come round and I'll make you a curry or some cakes or a fruit punch or something
• I've got to go to the dentists TWICE this month.
• If you donate, that might mean you like my blog and if you like it then I could do it more if you want?
• If you donate, that might mean you hate my blog and want me to shut up, which I can do too if you want?
• I'll try and not say anything nasty about cats on Facebook anymore.
• I know all the words to Sara and can sing it EXACTLY like Stevie Nicks if I hold my fingers against my throat and vibrate them.
• I suffer horribly from acute 'feeling left out of fun things' syndrome and I might go into cardiac arrest if I don't get to go.
• A pessimistic misanthrope at heart, perhaps YOUR donation could make me think twice about the human condition and turn my life around for the better?
• Most people think I'm really short even though I'm average height for a UK female.
• I'm always having to tell people I'm average height for a UK female.
• You could always come too and we could have a really really fun time dancing and crying and doing more crying.
• I once gave a cigarette to a homeless person
• I don't really enjoy life
• Why not use this as an opportunity to make yourself feel better? Giving is really good for strengthening  your 'smug' muscles.
• If all my Facebook friends gave a quid, I'd have enough for two tickets and I would repay the altruism  by selling somebody the second ticket for like 20 quid less than I bought it.
• The last one was only a joke
• If I got enough for two, I would genuinely repay the altruism somehow, maybe give it to somebody else who's really really poor.
• I'm really poor and nobody will give me a job because I have a shit degree in Drama
• I had to study Drama at university
• I had to go to university in Lancaster
• I still live here
• If I get to go, I'll video myself dancing around and being really weird and you can all laugh at it.
• I really really really like Fleetwood Mac

So there we have it, I've bared all and I'M NEVER GOING BACK AGAIN, they might sound like LITTLE LIES but it's all true. If you think you want to SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME, then please donate whatever you can by pressing the donate button at the top AS LONG AS YOU FOLLOW the instructions it should be a really simple transaction and it should work on mobiles too so you can give EVERYWHERE.
Thank you for taking the time to read my pleas and DON'T STOP to hesitate asking me any further information, I promise I won't give you SECOND HAND NEWS.
You could just be the one who makes my DREAMS come true and if not well YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAY.

Thanks and BIG LOVE

Ginge

"Yes, it is solid gold...but that's my favourite colour"

Hello and welcome back kids.

 It's been a while but I thought I'd dust off my blog fingers and ease them slowly and sensually back into your minds.

 In this time of crippling recession the things people spend money on, particularly if I can't afford them, has started to irritate me violently. Soaking away in my discount, non-bubble bath, washing my hair with Wilkos finest luminous green, faintly fruit smelling goo it occurred to me that some people's minor spending habits may well be the reason I can't get a fucking job.

 Here's a fun quiz for you all to join in with, that might just, if you pay attention and rectify your abominable western consumerist actions, SAVE US ALL.

 Soooooo let's play

  TOO MUCH MONEY OR A FUCKING IDIOT?

The rules are simple,jot down a yes or no to these questions and depending on your results you may have either got far too much money or are just a bit of a fucking dumdum. Helpful information on how to sort your gullible semi-existence out, will be offered at the end. Good Luck!

 1. Do you buy branded cleaning products, when blander looking products with less statistical horseshit on the front are available?

 2. Have you ever visited a Laura Ashley?

 3. Is your wine rack worth more than your total weekly spend on wine?

 4. Does the fact that you can't get an NHS dentist not in the least bit worry you?

 5. Have you ever paid to upgrade to first class on a Transpennine Express?

 6. Do you use multi-vitamins?

 7. Is there a room spare in your house that doesn't have a 'lodger wanted' sign in the window or a pile of rich people's bodies you have murdered for their jewellery?

 8. Do you own a Wii?

 9. Did you graduate, having only dipped marginally into your fucking colossal overdraft every now and then to pay off an unexpected credit card bill from All Saints?

10. Have your parents ever bought you a car because you 'deserved it for working so hard'?

11. Is there anything more extravagant in your bathroom than toothpaste, a toothbrush, a razor, shampoo, body wash or one of them weird fucking net things that looks like a big terrifying underwater bollock?

12. Personalised number plate?

13. Loreal's right, I am worth it. Do you agree with this statement?

14. Loreal? that stuff is shit, I only buy the stuff my hairdresser pressure sells me at Tony And Guy. Do you agree with this statement?

15. Do you have your hair cut at Tony And Guy?

16. Do you still buy albums?

17. Do you still buy SINGLES?

18. Have you ever been to one of those fucking disgusting establishments where you are encouraged to feed your dead skin and corns to starved fish?

19. Do you own a pair of headphones that cost more than £20 and are not a professional DJ?

20. Do you regularly have enough money left after a gig to buy a T-shirt?

21. Have you ever been to a Dr. Kruger and left with anything other than a look of absolute disdain from the shop assistant?

22. Have you ever had to ask somebody what the term hand-me-down means?

23. Career wise, do your parents tell you, you can be anything you want?

23.5. Career wise, could your dad feasibly get you into any industry you so wish?

24. You've got phone insurance right?

25. Is the sound system in your car worth more than the vehicle itself?

26. You've heard the term CCJ but you have no idea what it means?

27. If you smoke, you constantly have a 20 deck on hand and have never resorted to making a new fag out of the burnt, foul smelling stubs left in last night's ashtray?

28. You've only ever visited a charity shop to buy a hilarious 'old lady' costume for your ski social?

29. When faced with the choice between houmous and organic houmous, you couldn't morally bring yourself to buy the cheaper option?

30. Have you ever been to a festival and booked yourself one of those neet wigwams, that come with the hot showers?

 31. TOWIE is the only programme on TV that really speaks to you?

32. Have you ever bought a 'bath bomb'?

33. Would you buy a boxset of a programme you'd never seen?

34. Do you consider tapas to be a reasonable lunch?

35. Do you buy anything but Sainsburys Basics/Asda Smartprice/Aldi own brand toilet roll for a reason other than chronic diarrheah or a sadistic penchant for anal?

If you have answered yes to more than 5 questions, it is my grave duty to inform you, that you may have too much money and are dwindling it fruitlessly back into the greedy simpering mouths of people just like you. Why not redress the balance by giving a hefty sum of your needless salary/allowance/inheritance/laundered drug money to a worthy cause (I consider myself a worthy cause right now).Go on, the receipt can go on the pinboard next to that picture of you building a school in Africa with Tarquin and Pippa.

If you don't feel you fit in to that category then, it brings me no joy to have to tell you that you might just be a fucking gibbering idiot. Do you consistently find yourself short of food or basic sanitary products because you simply couldn't buy a pair of unbranded trainers? or wipe your arse with anything but silk? Do you feel compelled, after the advert in the cinema to buy a cool refreshing SoCo because it really expresses beverage-wise the kind of person you are? The good news for you my gullible friend is that I have a brilliant documentary for you to watch that might, if you're not a complete feckless twat, give you the kick up the arse you need.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prTarrgvkjo&noredirect=1

 Glad to be of service, as always. xxx

I may look like a 12 year old but I'm having a mid-life crisis

Good evening my adoring fans and in my usual cynical gait I'd like to wish you all as miserable and hopeless an evening as I'm having.
No,its fine, its just my mid-life crisis playing up again, I'll be fine in a few hours because I'll probably decide I want to be an astronaut and happy in the knowledge that that's totally attainable, because I can do anything, because I'm totally fucking brilliant at everything, I'll settle down with a pizza and watch something with Daniel Craig in,also aware that he'll be mine,just as soon as he dumps that dog he's married because I've got squint teeth but essentially I'm absolutely gorgeous and hilarious and men secretly really like cellulite and double chins and deep-seated insecurity.This will last approximately an hour and a half before I burst into dribbling tears and sob woefully into a Starbar,punching myself in the gunt for being such a fat useless,ugly fucking idiot.
You see its a rather complex life, living day to day when your self-belief is both delusional and yet rock bottom simultaneously
Want to know something really gay? I put some classical music on to help me write this,but Ive had to turn it off because I started crying.Apparently I cry at everything these days.
Am I having a breakdown? If so,why am I doing it on the Internet for all to see?
I guess I just want to know how some people survive their mid twenties with so much dignity intact. I don't mean the squares who don't get blind drunk and and wake up on a roundabout covered in vomit with the number of the local soup kitchen scratched into a can of Skoll with "call me" underneath. I mean the people who do that and yet, seem to miraculously end up in a job they enjoy and a charming boyfriend in a cutesy bohemian flat in one of the nice bits of London and go to see bands that hardly anyone else has heard of and go to art galleries and actually enjoy it.ARSEHOLES HOW THE FUCK DO YOU MANAGE TO DO THAT? ARE YOU A ROBOT? It shouldn't be possible for people to continuously make the right decisions all the time, they should be reprimanded for fucking witchcraft.
I'm sitting here at the ripe age of 25 with literally fuck all to show for it.I've not even managed to board an aeroplane yet.That's right, I've not built a school in Africa.I spent my gap year working.Something I decided a long time ago, isn't for me.

Soooooo if that's the case,why don't I just settle down and sign on, or even better pop a kid out and reap our country's liberal benefit system? well aside from owning some genuine morals,I am stuck with this awful fanciful idea that I'm capable of better.Its a curse.
My dad and I often discuss the old question, would you rather be ignorant and happy or enlightened and tortured? or as my dad likes to put it, would you rather be a sad fat bastard eating TV dinners and working for a week in Benidorm every year, but be totally happy with that? or would you rather be unhappy but constantly striving for better?

BLUE PILL, GIVE ME THE BLUE PILL!

It might be a quote from The Matrix but its certainly appropriate at this unfortunate junction in many peoples lives,now or never,take the easy route to mediocre contentment or jump ship and sleep on nails trying to find something else.
I will almost certainly do the latter as my mental health won't survive the voyage to 9-5sville Boredomia,but is it really the right thing to do?.
I've wanted to be many things during my life, from Archaeologist to Actor and from Judge to Journo and I've never really had any evidence to prove I am incapable of any of them.My parents, possibly out of kindness have never deterred me from pursuing unrealistic career options and until relatively recently I have been an undercover optimist,but the past 3 years since graduating from a degree of no use, which I didn't particularly enjoy, the arse-splitting realisation of how the world really works has given me a school gates kidney punch too many times and although I'm still an arrogant twat and constantly believe my destiny is greatness,I now have started to consider that the rest of the world may not catch on to this.

Obviously because they re not as brilliant as me.

When I was 18, I had a boyfriend.Of course I did, I was a size 8 and had an unrivalled willingness to set aside my personality in order to get one.
He was admittedly a very nice boyfriend for the most time and I gave up a place at a decent university in order to continue living with him. I now consider this to be the biggest mistake I've ever made,but I went to my local Uni non the less and enjoyed two whole weeks before I got dumped.Unfazed I carried on and although I despised the majority of my course, my Dad was paying my rent, so I sort of had to graduate to avoid being a massive fucking let down. I graduated.
Standard,next I auditioned for drama school and didn't get in.Then what? Well that was the bit I wasn't expecting,I was so certain in my young naivety that I wouldn't need one,that I didn't have a back up plan and my Uni provided me with less credible career advice than an episode of Skins. Hmmmmm, well I had a job, so at least I had some money coming in to save up for whatever else I decided to do,problem was,I never decided what that was and here we are nearly 4 years later going to work,wishing away every second I'm alive,growing an acidic hatred for the general public,going out two nights a week and slowly substituting jagerbombs for happiness,putting on weight,sporadically having brief encounters with terrible men and waiting for a director to knock on my door and give me a career.That does happen, by the way, just ask Peter Capaldi.

I've been trying recently,quite desperately to decide what I want to do and not just generalising it to 'not a normal job'. I've been looking at post-grads in things I'm interested in,but I don't have enough money and even if I did I'd probably hate it and land myself in 20 grand more debt for no reason.
So what do you do when you are both egotistical and insecure,cock-sure and not sure?
What do you do, when even your doctor tells you,you're getting old now,but all you really know you want to do is something just a little bit more exciting than this?
Fuck knows, that's why I'm asking you.
Hoping for the usual read were you? Good old Sophie and her silly blogs,they always make me laugh.

NOT TODAY.

I hope you're just as depressed as me, especially if you made the right decisions and never needed guidance,especially if you have a lovely boyfriend who would never cheat on you and fit Topshop clothes and gave up smoking and go home for Christmas and watch telly and never wish it was you on the screen and never have to go to the dentist except for check-ups and can look out into a crowd and believe genuinely that 90 percent of the people in it are 'decent' and check the calories on sandwiches and make a purchase based on these figures and have been abroad to exciting places and have never had a panic attack and don't feel,for the majority of the time you are around other human beings that they hate you and love you simultaneously.
If you arnt, its OK, you will be in 20 years time.
Theres only so many trips to Ikea a person can go on before they realise their life has no worth.
Perhaps I'm having my mid-life crisis early and I'm getting it out of the way and I can swan around in 20 years time pissing myself at all you unfortunate bastards covering up your nasty little affairs and selling your houses so that your ungrateful children can go to Uni and follow the same path as you did in some suburban circle of hell.
Maybe I'll be like Madonna or something, proper fucking tidy for an old bird and all you lot will be like,shit diggedy dang I wish I looked that good,I'd kill for a bloke 20 years my junior and I can come back and visit Lancaster and laugh at all the peasants and cry at awards ceremonies and thank my parents for not making me be a teacher....
Yeaaaahhhhhh maybe,although I feel its probably far more likely I'll be living in a counsil flat on my own waking up only for my morning gin,kicking dried dog shit away from the cupboard where I keep my giro book so I can drag my badly treated,barely usable body into town to bottom Wetherspoons to reminisce with the rest of the people who got trapped here how good Monday nights at Toast used to be.
JESUS
SOMEBODY HELP ME.

:)
x

Finally Feeling A Little Too Old For It...

Ey up!
How is everyone feeling tonight? great.Well I'm still feeling like a high street dog turd. Cold,dried up,scuffed and rightly avoided. Anyone who knows me, in fact probably anyone who's ever met me will know,this is no uncommon event,especially at this time of year,when I make a very special pilgrimage, the pilgrimage To Leeds Festival,that I have been making every year for the best part of a decade.

Its not always looked upon warmly,especially in 'trendy' circles,where the sheer fact that there are bands playing there that people have actually heard of is enough to dub you a commercially gluttonous music dumdum. Most of my friends question me yearly on why I would want to go and sit in a wet,muddy,noisy field full of pilled up morons,eating e-coli burgers,paying £4.50 for a pint and enduring most of the five days I'm there feeling like I'm going to die, struggling to breath in a pit full of equally unwashed teenagers sniffing poppers and spreading chlamydia.
Around about 30 percent of the time I'm there I ask myself the same questions,stepping over bags of human shit on the way to relieve myself in a trench. Is all this depravity worth it? It certainly doesn't feel so right now,when I'm trying not to vomit up last nights Eau De Vie so that I give myself enough time for the Nurofen to be absorbed.When I'm walking past a tent with the words "slags camp here" and a 15 year old in a courteeners T-shirt asks me if I'll 'sit on his cock'. When at 1.30 am I'm walking round an entire festival trying to find some entertainment that doesn't involve dancing to dubstep and cringing every time a cup of piss hits you in the eye.When you drive for two hours, get there and realise you forgot your ticket and miss half of the first day because you have another 4 hours driving to go and get it (genuinely happened). When you spend the last 24 hours of your weekend trying to save face by not going to the Samaritans tent because you took a particularly nasty pill and having been having panic attacks every 5 minutes and have convinced yourself you are going to die ("Leah Betts only had one,she died,what do you mean you wernt even born when the Leah Betts story came out, that was 1994? Jesus, I really am getting too old for this!").With all of this in mind, I'm not surprised you think I'm a dick, that you sit there in your nice warm houses watching Grand Designs or whatever it is people my age are supposed to be doing,looking smug and feeling glad your 'just not into festivals', it sounds horrible and alot of it is,but I wouldn't keep putting myself through it every year if the highs didn't outweigh the lows and if you like live music and you like being with your friends and you like making seafood puns and laughing at how much more hardcore you were 5 years ago, then why the frippery arnt you going too?

I knew I was gonna have to have to bore you all to death by writing a blog about my weekend, but I have no idea how to format it in an interesting and coherent way, as I'm just brimming with all the hilarious/ridiculous/stupid/brilliant/touching/awful anecdotes that will always arise from such a festival. I'd love to share with you, for example, how I laughed continuously for half an hour, to the point where I felt like I had Chrohns, when my friend Tom was so pissed on a ride that he jumped off before it had stopped and fell over in such a way that he was dubbed prawn foot for the rest of the weekend and inspired hours of prawn related puns.Which I laughed more at and have probably developed a six pack in the process, but I'm totally aware that it isn't funny to you, that you probably don't care and you almost certainly by now are thinking of new and exciting ways to hurt me for being such an obvious bore.
I'd love to tell you about Charlotte's dance bubble, in which she was so unaware of her brilliantly eccentric bodily movements that she didn't realise she had around 50 Strokes fans, completely ignoring 'Last Night' and deciding to join in and copy her in an aerobics style workout,scaring the shit out of her when the song finished and she turned round to see scores of strangers clapping and shouting her name. But this is also incredibly tedious to you and basically the dictionary definition of 'you had to be there'.
You don't know these people.why would you want to know?
Whoops, I sort of just did though didn't I? fuck it. I needed to tell someone otherwise the memories might fade and I'll forget the very reason I bother to smile for 5 days a year.
I guess I'll just do some bullet points now, of bands I went to see, followed by brief reviews of their performances.Brilliant.Inspired.
If you are offended by 'Indie' look away now...or dare yourself to challenge stereotypes and give some of them a listen? yeah probs not eh.

. Bombay Bicycle Club

I have loved this band for a few years now and was particularly excited to see them, however in true Leeds style, when I arrived at the tent to get my folk mosh on I was unable to get anywhere near, due to my least favorite festival goer; the 'Disinterested,notch up as many performances as possible, particularly if NME says they're good,so that if anyone asks I can say Ive seen them,stupid hat wearing,trendies' were blocking my way.
I could have cried, or at least set everyone on fire or something, however I stayed outside and watched from the screen.
It was, as expected pretty fucking tight and Jack Steadman's haunting vocals sounded just as good on a big stage, even though throughout the catalogue of melancholic,angst odes, he looked like he was going to explode with happiness.
They genuinely looked overwhelmed at the turn out and that made it feel quite special, I felt like I was at the gig on the brink of a band I fully think deserve, hitting the bigtime. I just really hope they don't lose their edge.Although Im listening to the new album now and it certainly doesn't sound like it.

.Friendly Fires
Undoubtedly one of my favorite bands of all time. Look at me with disdain all you will, their albums are pop at its finest and live they will always challenge the most die hard 'cool dude' not to dance and throw your hands in the air like an absolute dickbrain.
I was a little nervous, that being on the main stage might quash the atmosphere a little, especially combined with the driving rain and the fact that for once in 7 years I managed to get to the front.
Thankfully, this was absolutely not the case.
Pretty much all of my festival companions dubbed this their favorite performance of the weekend. The musical abilities were of course, not up to the likes of Pulp and Muse, but the enthusiasm,the stage presence and of course the mesmerising gyrations of Ed Macfarlane, combined with the perfect jiving pop anthems were enough to make me lose my voice completely and Charlotte to cry her eyes out.
Everyone was dancing.Everyone was singing and eventually the sun shone, just as 'Paris' was blurted out.I love squealing like a fangirl.As brilliant as ever.

.Muse
I have never really been into muse in a big way,but I will always remember my first Leeds,being dragged in torrential rain by my 'mosher' mates to see a 'mosher' band I was convinced I despised and being totally blown away.
They have gained a reputation for being the greatest live band in the world and it is certainly justified. This year De Ja Vu hit, as the rain and cold threatened once again to turn my frown upside down but around about 5 minutes in I remembered just why they blew me away all those years previously.
Its quite difficult to understand how Matt Bellamy manages to sound so pitch perfect,how listening to a song, you are so bored of hearing on the jukebox every day played so fucking spectacularly and with breathtaking vocals that you actually forget how much you hate it.They work hard and it shows.
Plus there were massive 30ft flames, lasers,robots,inflatable eyeballs and fireworks.Easily pleased.

.White Denim
Definitely the shocker of the weekend.I spose I only really went to see them because I like that one song (Lets Talk About It),they were on before Tom Vek, in an empty tent as a welcome shelter from the wetaher,but by golly I'm glad I did.
The compere welcomed them to the stage with "put your hands together for the best live band in the world" which aside from making me want to punch him and then throw up,sounded like the worlds biggest overstatement since The Sun announced "Jade Goody, a Star Is Gone" (I have no idea whether they said that, but they probably did, after hounding her for years,calling her a fat racist).
Although, calling them the greatest live band in the world,certainly was far off the mark, I mean unless this guys seen all the bands in the world, then he has no educated opinion in which to propose such an idea


Sorry for the gap, just had to go and put their new album on.Its brilliant by the way.listen to it.

Yeah so anyway, I stood absolutely mesmerised throughout the whole gig,by the strange offbeat noises ( I think they are like a combination of everything everything,Thin Lizzy and Devendra Banhart)It was played seamlessly and I think Ive run out of descriptive text as I was lulled into a blues/funk/prog coma,I was basically drooling and making mermering noises, so all I will say is definitely listen to them and for god sake go and see them if they play near you.

.Tom Vek
GOD I'VE WAITED SO FUCKING LONG TO SEE THIS MAN PLAY LIVE.
As with anyone you have devoted hours of your life listening to, but have failed to get to see, there is always the nervousness that your hero may turn out to be a big auto tuned waxwork phallus.They may have spent years being a recluse because they are essentially the alt version of the sexy woman from Black Box, that actualy turned out to be a massively talented but fat hideo-bag in real life and was replaced in all the videos by a tone deaf model type that could barely even tell you her name without dribbling.
THIS.WAS.NOT.THE.CASE
Tom swooped on stage sporting a Bryll creamed side parting and tweed jacket and burst into one of my favorite songs from the new album 'Someone Loves You'.It was going great. It kept getting greater.
By the end of the gig I was boogieing to the brilliant 'You Look Aroused' and singing and staring fixedly at the ferociously sexual stage presence of Vek.
The man who's eagerly awaited 6 year return to music was heralded by brilliantly orchestrated live synth, some mean bass and a particularly impressive lead guitar from Tom himself. I left feeling smug to be honest, that I had such foresight into musical matters, that so far all my choices had proved excellently entertaining, this of course was to change.....

.The Strokes
OH DEAR
I mean, I wont slag them for playing badly or anything, they sounded quite tight and for once Julian seemed to have layed off the smack long enough to muster some form of audibility, but the level of disappointing damp squibness is only comparable to the once and only time Ive ever seen The Arctic Monkeys.
"Hy I'm Julian Casablancas/Alex Turner, I am the lead singer in a very famous band, I wear sunglasses at night time an I don't have to try because everything I do is cool as fuck"
WRONG
To be honest it was a bit like going to watch one of the bands in Lancaster,Morecambe and I'm sure beyond, that have haircuts and jangly guitars and know somebody else in a sort of famous band and do cocaine and think that music is about being ironic and twee and staring woefully into nowhere, whilst secretly laughing to themselves about just how important they are.
To think, at Reading, The Strokes had to follow PULP.Awkward.

. Digitalism
Thumping bass lines,live synth,Jens' absolutely carnal face (fangirl)much dancing,brilliant as ever.Shame about the 15 year olds on mKat trying to start a mosh pit.

.Metronomy
Dont think that because my review of this band is succinct,it means they were unremarkable, they weren't, its just that they are so consistent and have never played a bad gig and Ive seen them loads, that Im sure youve heard me review them before anyway.Nice to see a bigger crowd this time.Think I fancy Oscar Cash (fangirl) (hormonal twat)

.Death From Above 1979
Another one on the bill I have waited years to see and due to the fact they split up in 2006 I didnt think I ever would.
I'd seen live footage of this thrash festival duo before and have always been amazed at what a sound they can make with just the two of them.
On the videos Jesse Keeler's bass skills are fairly unrivalled and I was pretty excited to do my special DFA dance (ask the Bowerham lads)but was unable to enjoy any of this due to the fucking awful sound system.
This festival has so much money poured into it I didnt think it was possible to fuck a set up, due to sound,but I could barely hear a thing other than a series of bangs and screams and I think I've enough confidence in them that it wasn't their fault.
least I hope not, otherwise that 2006 split should well have been left splut.?.

.Madness
Anyone who says they don't like Madness is either lying or a miserable narcasistic twat.
I was really hoping the sun would be out and I'd be well into my fourth pint, so that I could enjoy dancing at the back trying to immitate the Baggy Trousers video whilst 30 thousand other people did the same.
Unfortunately it was cold,wet and I was suffering post traumatic stress from a rather juvenile late night substance decision.
Instead of feeling the warmth of a massive crowd of people enjoying it with me, exchanging nods and swinging arm in arm whilst wishing eachother a good festival, I was having to stop every five minutes to breath into my sleeve and reassurring myself that I wasnt about to say goodbye.
Even with this self enduced tradegy on my shoulders I still managed to sing along to all the classics and Suggs's hilareous on stage blathering (at one point he declared he shouldnt have had that Nurofen and then used a towel to pretend he was a ghost(I think) )was as surely uplifting as it was always going to be.
They really are a great band,even with advanced years against them,vocals,sax et al was truely up to scratch.It must be love,love love.

.PULP
Saved the best till last.The very best.
I have no quarms with saying that was the best gig Ive ever been to.Jarvis is not only a brilliant storyteller and poet,but an unexpectedly lively and crowd pleasing front man.
He was relaxed and jovial and as perfectly Northern as we all love him to be.
I was suprised at how much of a dirty bastard he is though,getting down on the floor and simulating sex,whilst telling us all about how to wank in a tent.
I was drawn between invisaging him as my creepy uncle and that dweeby boy from school I always thought might be a bit of a goer.
Ive liked PULP since I was a kid, but I wont pretend I know all the songs, theres probably about 6 I could sing along to.
Singing along to those 6, was brilliant and classically unifying (especially Sorted out For E's And Wizz, which anyone who comes into the Friary, will know I play on a daily basis and to the point where I did my first overwhelmed gig cry, whilst jumping up and down with my best mate (gay))but throughout the more melancholic tracks I was absolutely transfixed, not one moment of attention was diverted from the stage.
The visuals were beautiful and fitting and I almost felt like I had time-travelled to 1995. I half expected to look down and see an ellese jumper and some Reebok classics.
This was truly one of those moments where I felt a little part of history, even more so when Richard Hawley was welcomed on to the stage to play guitar for the rest of the set.
It ended with a joyous cavalcade of bouncing bodies,screaming out the lyrics of the perfect pop 'Common People' and after a ten minute walk of agonizing exhaustion I returned to 'the palace' to end the weekend with more shellfish humour,whilst grinning to myself inanely at the fact I had just got to see 'one of those bands'.

I almost wish I'd been to see more shit ones and then this may have been more acerbicly entertaining for you,but thankfully for me and unfortunately for you, I couldn't get into the tent for The Vaccines and if I'd come within audible distance of Beady Eye I'd have beaten some poor kid to death with my welly and spent the rest of my life incarcerated,rocking back and forth, the the unending horror of mancunian tinitus ringing in my ears and screaming "STOP,MAKE IT STOP"

For now I certainly feel very old indeed and although parts of the weekend made me questions wether it should be my last and that it was time to get a proper job and fucking dog or something, even if I am a teacher by this time next year, I can always camp in green :)
xx

THURS 9TH DEC 2010

Watcha!


Ive been away a long time haven't I?
yeah yeah been busy etc...
WRONG

Unless busy, is of course wasting your spare time drinking cheap cider,taking low quality class A's whenever ANYBODY offers them to you,pondering the festering refuse of your life and getting off with chavs (not the last bit)(alright yeah maybe I did..WHO ARE YOU MY PARENTS?)

As you can see, I have been regressing somewhat recently, to that oh so familiar yet dread inducing festival of shame, known as adolescence.
I dunno why...

ALRIGHT I DO, JUST SHUT UP YEAH GOD!!

Real life, I mean real grown up, got to wear a suit and be nice to the elderly life, is rubbish. Why the hell does anybody bother?

"Make sure you pay all your bills"

fuck off

"You used to have such lovely legs"

nice one, you didn't.

"when are you going to find a boyfriend?"

when your dead,so I can bring him round and he wont have to meet you...

and my least favorite....

"When are you going to get a real job?"

DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YOU MASSIVE ARSECANDLE!!!!!

Being in your (god, I am actually saying this) mid-twenties,for me at least and I suspect most others is such a destitute landslide of monotony,such a dark,chest stabbing anti-climax such a MASSIVE neon revulsion of human rights I feel like I should be in a cell somewhere in China, wondering who's going to collect my Nobel prize for me.
its just not fair.Nobody said it was going to be like this.

When I was a child these were the three things I wanted to be when I grew up

Archaeologist:
I'd seen Jurassic Park, I wanted in on the action.

Astronomer:
The stars, no more beautiful a landscape could you spend your life gazing at

Actor:
it only took me 22 years to realise its for gays.


These are the three things I want to be now:













you see that?
A massive blank space.
Nothing.

You know why? because every last dribble of aspiration and positive thought, every little spark of ambition,hope and destination has been torched away by the baron,arid reality of 'making do'

Who's idea was growing up?
probably a Tory.

So whaderya do when you've all but given up,when you can barely be arsed to do the things you enjoy? (excuse for not keeping the blog up)
well you look for inspiration obvs!!
Trouble is, as Ive been looking around, reading various books,watching programmes looking for characters to assimilate with the only one that's struck a chord,sadly Is Dan Clarke's quietly brilliant Don Danbury, from How Not To Live Your Life
A twenty something no-hoper, who's terrible with the opposite sex,has despised and been sacked from nearly every job he's had,relies on people to do nearly everything for him,cant pay bills,cant cook,clean or organize anything and spends most of his life,wondering where it all went wrong,why ninety percent of his life is spent in a pink dressing gown and constantly lusts over people he will never get.
This to me is so horrifyingly recognizable I feel a little bit sick.Its certainly scuppered my chances of writing a quirky sitcom about my failed life.

I think, Dan, if your reading this, which you wont be,because I am a nobody who has done literally nothing with her life,but if, just if... I place my future in your hands.
Its only fair, that in the next and final episode Don,has a mind altering supernova of clarity and finds out exactly what it is he wants to do and through a series of easy to follow steps he achieves a career of both wealth and satisfaction. Oh and gets that girl hes always secretly loved,because lets face it,although his teeth are a bit squint and hes not the brightest tool in the box,hes always deserved her over that pompous fool.

Ahem *looks around*

So erm yeah, aside from regressing and living my life out through characters,scarily of the opposite sex,on the television....I'd say I'm doing alright??

Oh god
I'm going to have to be a teacher arnt I?

somebody call Dignitas.
xxx