Archive for the ‘You cunt’ Category

FYI

Thursday, February 2nd, 2017

Current sexual orientation:

BYEEEEEEE

2016, fuck you

Friday, December 30th, 2016

Yea, fuck you right up the ass, you fucking bitch of a year.

You’ve given the world a rabid Cheeto as supposedly the most powerful man in the world. You’ve taken a lot of my favourite artists. And you’ve given me a whole hell of a lot of anxiety, worse than it’s ever been.

So yea, forget about the positive year-end reviews, there’s been like two good things, Suicide Squad, which in all honesty wasn’t a mind-blowing mastepiece of cinema, but it worked for me rather well, and then there was Rogue One, which was a bloody masterpiece in every single way one can imagine. It was marvellous and I loved it so much it’s not healthy.

But it was a terrible year all in all. Started out with Bowie dying. I wasn’t the biggest fan, but I surely can appreciate he was an icon and as such, his death was a great loss to the world. Then there was Alan Rickman, whose death was so devastating to many of my close friends, that it made it hit hard for me as well. One of those friends was someone, who just before Christmas on this cursed Cthulhu-excrement of a year lost her father, a man I used to call my spare-dad, because we were like sisters through much of my childhood and teenage years. So yea, fuck you 2016.

I had the most terrible episodes of anxiety I’ve ever had towards the end of the year. I couldn’t go to a shop at all for weeks. I wasn’t even able to think about going to a shop without feeling like I was suffocating. I do not know, to this day, what caused it, but I suspect it was the stress of school. It’s really promising to be good next spring, because there’ll be loads more to do with school, so I will not -in all honesty- be the least bit surprised if I have to be hospitalized this coming spring, due to anxiety and my bipolar spiralling out of hand.

And talking about bipolar, one of the biggest reasons I stopped being afraid of my illness and started talking openly about it, Carrie Fisher, the spacemom the world deserved, died on December 27th. I was still in shock about the death of George Michael, of whom I wasn’t either the biggest fan, but a fan still. I have to get back to both Carrie and George on separate posts, because they both deserve it, playing a large part on my life.

I’m going to stay up past midnight on the 31st of December just to see 2016 die. And fuck all of this next year positivity. I’m going to grab 2017 by the throat and curb stomp them if they decide to fuck with me because I have had Itâ„¢.

fuck you farrell

Friday, February 26th, 2016

I’M HAVING A CRISIS




Teenage agony

Friday, February 27th, 2015

When I went to seventh grade, I really wasn’t at all into boys in the beginning. I was thirteen and sort of just getting into the whole awkward mess of hitting puberty and suddenly realising that playing with Barbies was omg so stupid and hitting on boys was cooler than just hitting boys. I made friends with some girls, who were more mature than me and by the beginning of the spring, I kinda liked this one boy who was two years older than me.

You know, it’s one thing to like a boy for the first time when you’re decent looking and at least somewhat fashionable, but when you’re fat and dress strangely, it’s a completely different thing. Want to take a wild guess which one I was? Yup, I dressed in clothes that my mom made (no dis, i loved wearing them, they were unique and also i’ve never understood why you’d wanna buy labels just because labels, anyway i digress, my lack of style is a whole another story) and I was overweight. And not in that cutesy movie type of overweight, but plain fat, trust me.

So what followed was the usual heart eyes, motherfucker -routine, lots of giggling and making up codenames so no one would know who we’d be talking about. Then one day, I was coming from my record store (no i didn’t own it but it’s where i hung out a lot) and the cute boy was outside and he looked at me and I sort of panicked and went “hi”. He stared at me for a long while and went “what” and I went “well i just said hi” and my god I was red like a ripe bell pepper and I legged it.

If this were a Hollywood film, he’d come up to me the next day and said he had loved me for a long time, but since this is my life and my teens were as horrible and as scarring as your regular person, that didn’t happen. What happened was that some of the girls from other class (the snobby ones which i’ve mentioned before) had boyfriended up with this cute boy’s friends and decided to make me feel like shit. One of the girls came up to me and asked all innocently if I liked that boy and I blushed and said nope. So she started going on how I didn’t have a chance because I wasn’t fit and cool and you know the drill.

What I didn’t realise until much, much later was the fact that the boy had been an absolute wet toaster about the whole thing. He actually told all of his mates about my awkward moment instead of not being a dick. And all those mates decided it was a cool thing to tell everyone about it. Which resulted in me having a really uncomfortable end of term.

And yes, I’m still mad about it and I wish I’d realised what a complete douchebag he was.

Kids can be so cruel to eachother.

Shit wank fuck

Tuesday, August 20th, 2013

My credit card has been hijacked. Luckily I was able to spot like immediately one large and one small amount on my card balance sheet that I absolutely have nothing to do with. This is just the right time for this kind of shit, seeing as I’ve slept three and a half hours last night in two parts. Absolutely fucking marvellous. Also I have like zero extra money and two hundred freaking quid on my credit card is a big fucking deal. Let’s just hope that I can get them back as reclaims. Fuck. Now I need to get a new card, as I’ve killed the one hijacked, and when I get my hands on the new one, start emailing companies about my preorders. Ugh. I have like tons of shit on preorder, like action figures and a few books.

You have no idea how much this pisses me off.

On the bright side, I don’t feel like sleeping and I’ve lost like eight pounds. In a week. Yay me. Pounds as in units of mass, not units of currency. I’ve appeared to have lost a quite a bit more in units of currency for fuck’s sake this made me mad again. Ugh.