I'm back

Yeah I'm back.

So....


I ditched Bristol, (obvs). Social genocide and the hopeless 'will dubstep ever die?' question on everyone's lips were the major contributing factors for my decision. That and -like a battered wife-  I had threatened to leave so many times that If I hadn't, It would have killed me.


So, I left  and moved to London  to follow my dreams of being a creative genius as I'm individual like that.

It's great, I'm totes living the dream; I'm in education, I have shit loads of non-paid work, i-player and series 4 Downton Abbey sad face Anna :(  and all I have to do is sign on once a fortnight in Tottenham job center.. which incidently means I need to pick up my tracksuit from the drycleaners before it shuts BRB

Do I miss Bristol?  Do  I miss double-barralled-named caucasions with dreadlocks and New wave dub punk new rock left wing bat wing vegan lesbians on every street corner.

.....In a way


I was initially going to bore you a.k.a showing off all the amazingly generic East London fun I've been pretending to enjoy this past week but I will leave that for another time.




P.s

Pat has also moved to london as he now a grown up. His aspirations to be a barman forever are oves, he's found a new career. He's very secretive about his new job but from what I gather his main role includes cleaning the tracks on the London underground.. well I suppose someone has to do it... I hung out with him recently, the night included getting Ided a lot and gross cider.

P.s.s lukus is in London too. He gave up his dead end career being a Patrick wolf look alike and became scientist. I love him because vegans don't. 

P. s . s  calum deleted me off facebook #sad face # he wishes.  he wont accept my new friend request either

London life thus far

Victoria Line now goes all the way to Pennsylvania 

Jew boy

Mrs Hulk

Canapayyyy

Work that Lion's ass

Omg, trafalg is so hot right now

'Me love big pussy long time'

Gay Batman

Lukus's best attempt at being my  + 1

Rose Plowrong

Meet Rose.

Likes:

-Getting anally probed by medical professionals

-Being ill

-knobbing off Urban Outfitter staff.

Dislikes:

-Soap

-Independence

-looking attractive

I first met Rose properly in Ranicar's bathroom. She asked Ranicar and I to shave her undercut. This was in 2011 and not four years ago as you would naturally assume.

It is said that being seduced by Rose is on par with running over a hedgehog; tragic, flat in all the wrong places and an experience one will always regret.

Her and I share but two thing is common. We both smell and neither of us are cool enough to work in urban outfitters. Though initially she tricked them into believing she was, they soon saw through the ripped tights and eyebrow piercing that she still rocks as if they're current.

Don't let her Dubstep exterior fool you, She is from the country, she's about as urban as a trout. She is the only person I've meet that lists 'sewing seeds' as key skills in her CV.

Her main hobbies and interests include haging fags, 'wanking bumholes' and buying stuff from American Apparel's 'ironically generic' range.

A year on. The things miss the most.

No.5 Calum's fringe.

Once upon a time this time last year, Calum had a fringe so thick, so luscious that it brought swarms of pre-teens with their mother's ID to Thekla every thursday night. Though it made him look like the brunette from Tatu it had the best anti-aging properties thus it made him look young enough to hang out with his friends. A year on, he no longer has

the run your fingers through it hair I once loved but

sports a fashionable up-do.

No.4 My moral guidiance- The art of making metaphors out of nothing

This time last year, this blog was at its peak. I would use this blog as an outlet to offer moral guidance and support for all my mentally deficient familiars.

I would often make a metaphor out of anything. The most popular being Slice

After countinuley offering the wrong advice, people have stopped listening to me as I've become that crack lady in the underpass that needs help because the goverment have stolen her brain.

.

No.3 Ranicar's indecency- get your tits out for the lads!

Ever wondered how Ranicar became such a social staple? It's pretty simple actually. You only know who he is because I engineered his social presence. Now it feels like he's always been here. Just like mobile phones, it's hard to think what we did without him.

I recall when I first invited him to Cherry Court-B402, after that there was no getting rid of him. He was here to stay. He made himself comfortable, too comfortable.

After a week or so of being part time residence of b402, Ranicar decided clothes were out and indecency was in, which, in truth, was a far better site than the numerous street urchins and rabid Otters Tom M would adopt and bring back for the night.

A year on, he's paying rent, working at Urban Outfitters and in a catholic sense, living in sin.

No.2 Pat and Abbie-My heart will go on.

They called it 'The relation-ship of dreams' It brought life and soul and weird bumps in the night into Cherry court. It was built during the summer. Maz held the rivets as I hammered them in. It was, at the the time, the greatest thing afloat -that was-until it smashed into something tough, broke in two and sank.

I do feel partly responsible for creating such marvel and not providing enough lifeboats for all on board. Pat later learnt from histories' greatest castrophe and went on to date a block of dry ice which, just like regular ice, didn't last. Abbie left Bs8 and moved downtown and now only galavants with lead singers and bass players.

No.1 Cherry Court-B402

Cherry Court a.k.a The Mother ship/Mecca/Thekla staff HQ

Home to many, open to all. I moved in with Pat because he didn't have any friends and I was the only person willing to overlook his lip ring/fake tan/waxed chest combo. It was a task, a renovation I was willing to take on. In exchange of my services as chief BFF he bought me a double air bed,well in truth he bought me many as they routinely got punctured or soiled by Tom M's many night time activities/visitors. No one will ever know the atrocities dishonorableness that occurred within b402.

Time did not exist within cherry court and one i.e Pat, could easy lose a few days stalking desirables on Facebook alone.

I loved cherry court so much I named a hat after her.

A year on, b402 is no doubt inhabited by people below a station appropriate for such a museam of memories. Pat moved in with some gays south of the river and we saw what was intended to be Cherry court revisted as Tom M moved in with a bunch of girls from the north.

Flea market finds.

So a few sundays ago I attended bristol's first major flea market, I went alone because I didn't have any friend that day.

Here's what I bought

A chad valley golly wog. He was my first purchase and of the day, my first love.

I saw him across the room, his eyes drew me closer, we had a bit of eye sex and I gave in. He was £7, the cheapest friend I've ever had.

A taxidermy deer foot cork screw. Impractical it may be, I bought it because it serves as a torture device for a vegan alcoholic, that is, of course, if I aloud vegans into my house.

£5, bargain.

An asortment of bits and bobs that have destined use for my new collection. Not including the double sided locket of some victorian dude and his mother. I was I was impressed with the Edwardian jet hair side that will come to great use.

All in all this cost me around £20

I'm not sure why I bought these gauntlet gloves. They were only a tenner which I believe is rather cheap. I suppose they can come in some use if a manga theme fancy dress party arises.. or if I ever feel the need to dress as a sexy nazi or something.

With today's housing crisis and the recession, many people are finding themselves having to downsize, one of the most common problems that such people face is finding the space to display one's porcelain.

Louis XV style gilded wall shelves are the answer. I purchased this wall shelf for £5. Now sits the Vase that I once doubled as a chamber pot for nights where the toilet seemed just too distant.

An early 20th century dress fragment which is ideal for my new collection. £2.

Art, slices, pole dancers and flea markets.

This weekend was what the bi-polar people would refer to as a 9. It welcomed the long awaited the return of the original dishonorable- Jess.

Jess returned with tie dyed hair, vegan knitwear and creepers though she's still keeping it real by eating meat and dairy products so I suppose thats something for me to cling on to.

Recently Pat has become all hipster and cool. He Djs, he dates urban outfitter staff and everything he promotes over uses the derogative word 'indie'. Despite all of that nonsense, he has also gained a seat in Bristol's gay high society, for profit one hopes, and not for pleasure as one would naturally assume. Though its apparent he thrives off the the attention they give so passionately .

This weekend, Pat informed me about this art event launch thing that was happening. I figured, that since every attractive man of the so called gay elite that has ever disliked me was going to be there, I felt a felt a strong obligation to attend, if not for the sake of Art but the opportunity to cause mischief and mayhem.. and it would be easy.. for this time I had Jess.

The problem with art in bristol is it has the ungracious tendency to be a bit shit. Do you recall the last show I went to?

Bristol Art usually fits into one of three categories; weird Vegan Lesbian 'fanny' art, nu-rave geometric Hollyoaks discharge screen prints or Urban art that comments on social issues that were so 2007 in 2005.

what ever happened to a nice oil?

So anyway....Pete, Pat, Jess, a few other unmentionables and I rocked up to this event. My first thoughts were 'so this is what one gets if one crosses Urban outfitters with a gay bath house on a sunday morning' Does anyone have a hazard suit I can borrow?

The show was more agreeable with my tastes than I would have ever imagined though Jess and I spent a few free G&TS discussing the ironic significance of artits who present their work in white mounts and pine frames. Striped pine died the same year as Princess Diana, and just like her, they shouldn't really be seen hanging on anyones bedroom wall.

Many free G&Ts later... Pete & co went to Bath to go to Calum's night , Pat had left to go spotify at the event's afterparty and Jess went for a piss but didn't return. I however remained.

I uncovered a character, his name is Thomas, he smokes a pipe, stands at 6ft, talks with his eyes and he styles a dress impossibly well. And to top it off, he and I only have a single mutual friend on facebook. One.

I've always said the best friends one can have go harmoniously with one's interior design and furnishings thus avoiding the embarrassment of an unnecessary clash of interests.

And I'm not positive but I believe Dubstep disagrees with him too.

We.. my friend Andrew , Thomas, Vanessa and some pleasant lady with a bowl cut and I went back to Andrew's for wine and cake for it was still not 12 o'clock.

During this short late night brunchen, Mania, in a Fagan like manner, was kind a enough to show off his various treasures and novelty items including a very unique talking alarm clock which processed the voice of Stephen Fry.

A bottle of wine and half a walnut and coffee cake later.... We ventured out to go to my work (on my only night off) on the way, we decided to pay a visit to Bristols only official nature reserve a.k.a The smoking area of Syndicate.

Within the caged enclosure were an array of rare and exotic breeds of the working class genus. One got exited and showed us his bottom just before eating his own dung.

Our visit sumed up in a few pictures.....

The pole dancers from sunday were kind enough to demonstrate their gymnastical talents.

After The bierkeller we went to meet Pat outside his work, he was with his screeching all-gay Housemate come new bff and his army of fag hags whom he is never seen to be without. sigh...

After they dispersed, Pat, Andrew, Thomas and I went for a dance in the only place that one can dance at that time in the morning, Mr wolf's

O how we danced.

We were later joined by Ben, perfect Ben whom I completely forgot to meet up with hours prior, he was drunk and wearing polyester. Humid.

The weekend concluded with Bristol's first flea Market. It was grand. I was the first there as I awoke first thing in the morning after having the worst sleep of my life on the floor of Calum's hall which rendered my right hand completely useless until 5pm. I spent my whole weeks wages on trinkets and relics. Details of my purchases shall be issued shortly.

Goths, yoga halls and the kindness of strangers.

So this weekend was built as the conclusion to a week, that in my opinion, I would have prefered not to happen.

I went to work as per usual upon a saturday night. I work in place that caters for metal heads and goths on a friday and [welsh] stag and hen nights on a saturday. I am forever mopping up unhealthy coloured spillages and witnessing the behaviours of Brides-that-should-never-be

A long shift later... I embarked on a mission for cheap boose and frolics, I found myself at a goth Industrial night though to my horror they had sold out of the £1 beers. Soon after I went to a secret party thing in a yoga studio, usually these urban soirees are full of vegans and white cider drinkers fortunately however, the scene on this ocasion was more agreeable with my interests. I did infact see a vegan, whom made a comment about my fur stole but ran off before I could launch it at her.

Amy, the person that recently took over Pat's position and dare I say it, responsibly of being my new BFF decided to die this weekend. Which, understandably, was really annoying as I assumed she was going to be at the yoga hall party and she wasn't which, just like L'oreal, gave my reputation of having no friends even more life and body.

After the music had stopped I had failed to realise that none of the 6 people I had been texting or calling all evenin had responded, which put me in a precarious situation as I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do. A mutual friend of Amy and mine 'invited' me to an after party around the corner. I investigated, mingled, worked to the room only to be chucked out by someone half my size, little did he know, after parties sponsored by ketamin never really were my thing.

After being ejected from the place of tranquilized fun and intrigue, in the lobby I remained in hope a plan manifested in the part of my brain that was still functioning adriotly.. It was too cold so fuck sleeping rough again, besides.. who sleeps?, I could have danced all night. Embarking on the mission that is treking it home was a notion I was not willing to entertain as I was wearing my nice shoes.

As luck would have it, a guest of the party emerged, he pondered why I was sitting in a corner next to a broken dishwasher, I explained the situation in great detail, hi-lighting how difficult it is going out when one has no friends and only a home in the next county . He took pity on me as he told me I reminded him of his dad and did what no one ever does, offered me somewhere to stay. Lad.

It was fortunate as he lived in close proximately to Ben whom I had arranged to take out for a roast on sunday thus the geographically, it made perfect sense.

On sunday, Ben J and I went to my friend Ben's new bar called The old bookshop. I never really write about Ben G as it is a great fear of mine that anything I would write would have the potential to insure he never gets laid again.

A full gut later, Theo and I went to watch the Pole dancing championships. It wasn't what we had expected or hoped for. We were expecting a bunch of girls whipping their hair back and fourth and grinding against a pole to 50-cent-candy shop

instead, the atmosphere was funeral like. Most of the audience were the contestants parents and grandparents and the contestants's song choices ranged from deep emotional power ballards to soundtracks from horror films.

O how I miss Downton Abbey.

There was one male contestant whom, despite the sheer lack of support engineered in his undergarments, proved to be one of the best. His 'Smack my bitch up' routine tested Theo's character.

we didn't stay for the results.