Don't Stop Dancing! Don't You Ever Stop Dancing!

I'm currently listening to the cure. They make me happy, and want to dance like Robert Smith in the video for Friday I'm In Love (nobody at school seems to understand when I do this, they obviously either haven't seen the video, or don't understand the cure)

I seem to be getting over a cold, I blame my brother, and Tom, they are mean and ugly people. Cept my brother isn't ugly, We come from the same Gene pool (roughly, different Dad's, I guess) and If he were ugly, I'd be ugly, and that just isn't true...

I got Rachel to listen to Dylan Moran the other day. She loved it. We've been saying Elbow Scrag all week, Oh, and the little quote about Eggs just being farts covered in substance. It's true. Eggs are gross. Who in their right mind would eat something that came out of a chickens backside?

I remember when I pretended to have a pet chicken called Wook Wook (I blame Tom entirely) and then we found a picture on the internet of a man who we named Mr Wook Wook Choi, who became almost like a new obsession for us.

Door Mouse
Mouse Trap
Trap Door
Door Mouse
Mouse Trap
Trap Door

Moon Chicken

*Vaguely remembers a trip we took to Colchester, failed in finding the zoo, and sat in Pizza hut for an hour or so, eating and playing this stupid word association game*

Oh, the good 'ol times.

For the past three or so days, I've had an elastic band wrapped around three of my fingers. Strange. It's rather comfortable.

The other day I really wanted to paint my nails black, but my black is downstairs in the unknown depths of the garage, hidden under a mass of dead bodies and chopped carrots, etc. So I decided I wanted to paint them turquoise. I even cut my nails really short, as I like bright colours on shirt nails, and fuck me, I don't even own turquoise. And if I did, it'd be no doubt down with the fecking black.

My Lizard just made a strange squeaking noise on the side of the vivarium. Weird. Wonder how he did that. I can't wait for him to shed. It's so wonderfully cool. He's currently 7 1/2 inches long. WOW!

Yeah so I'm getting boring in my old age, am I not?

It's rather remarkable, really.

Oh dear, the music seems to have stopped... When did that happen?

*Dances to the Cure*

Yeah, so I don't have much more to say.

So I guess I'll Say G'Bye

G'Bye

xXxXxXxXxXx
(Chav Stylie, Biatch!)

Get off of my money, you fecking lunatic. Go on, hop it.

This is a wonderful picture of myself, at some age. I think i look slightly spasticated, not just because of the strange fringe and lack of piercings, but also because I decided at the last minute that I wanted to stick my tongue out. And so I was edging it out when the photographer obviously realised my intentions, and snapped me like... well, like this. Terrible.



Which Trainspotting Character Are You?

Fuck me, I'm Renton!

I watched Lock Stock this morning, which made me want to watch Trainspotting, which makes me want to listen to Iggy Pop and become a fucking Skag head... Yes, cos we're all hardcore, and I wanna be your dog.

So my ear is healing up nicely now, I stretched it, went to bed, and it fell out, leaving my ear all gross and yucko. Yummy.

Sobek just ate 4 crickets in about 7 seconds, I', not kidding, he's gonna become a fat little arsehole at this rate, bless his soul.



He's taken to sitting on my face. I don;t think this is a great picture of me, but Sobek is on me. Look. He's on my face... Eww.

I got a picture of him on my cat the other day, the cutest thing ever. Muffin, my cat, didn't really know what was happening, but she didn't go for him. She never has tried. She wouldn't hurt a fly.

I think we've come to the conclusion that Robyn is doing the art for my poetry book. Her pictures are pretty damn cool, and she'll work for alcohol, which is good, because I don't like giving people money out of my own pocket.

Cheap slapper... Cheap slapper... Cheap slapper...

I'm in a lot of pain. I'm trying to stretch my bottom ear hole. Ouchy. Gemma gave me a stretcher thingy. It hurts. I've got it half way through now, but I feel like I should give up because it really does hurt.

The past few days I've been writing more of my crappy poetry. I'm proud of it, actually. I'm going to try and get some of it published, but I don't really know where to start. I'd like it to be in a cool little book and stuff. Which reminds me I guess I need someone to illustrate all of my poems. Any offers?

Seriously I do need someone to do it. I'd do it myself but I just don't have the skill. You know? I want something brilliant and crap at the same time, Byron's drawings just didn't cut the biscuit.

If you feel like you can do it, draw a picture to accompany this poem;

Eyebrow Soup

One day and accident occurred
Standing over the stove
My eyebrows burnt off
And fell in my soup

And send them to

getoutofmyoffice@whorehouse'scrackfactory.moonpie.aol.com *

But really, I mean if you are interested, let me know, cos I really do need illustartions for an awful lot of poems. This job would not be a paying job, but your name would be happily written in the book if it ever managaes to get published, and you could then become the famous artist who drew pictures for the twisted little girl who writes shitty poetry.

Fuck me I'm great.

So yeah, I've got some psychology work to do. I'll have to write another entry soon. PLEASE HELP ME COMPLETE MY BOOKY.

Bye bye xxx

*This is not actually a real email address... Do not send things to this email address... You may get shot.

*One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other. One Of These Things Just Doesn't Belong*

If there is a God, do you think he knows when the world will end? Well, not just the world, but the whole universe, basically?

I believe, and I think I only believe this because I want it to be true, that our lives are mapped out before we start our 'journey' through life. Before any of us start our 'journey'.

Take, for instance, that thing we learn in science. I want to call it the 'red shift' but I don't think that's right.

Anyway. We were taught that the stars we see in the sky at night burnt out years and years ago. But because they're so far away, it took so long for the light to travel down to earth, that we still see them, even though they are gone. The only thing that knows the truth is the empty space in the universe where that star had burnt out, years in the future. Or in the past. However you think.

Following me?

So, presumably there is a God outside of our universe (otherwise Scientist would see the old coot, right? I mean, we can see planets and stars and black holes and what not), the universe where those stars we see every night burned out, oh, so many years ago, surely this Magnificent Creature can see into our futures (I.e. we see the stars past, the star sees our future, God would therefore see our futures too).

And surely, being so far outside our universe, he'd know if/when the world will end, presuming it's betwene now and whatever time in the future this God is witnessing.

So who's to see He's not staring into an empty space where Earth used to be?

I thought about this the other night when I was desperately trying to sleep, and I had to write it down on paper. This is what I wrote. I think I can explain it better with words and hand movements, so if you are confused, ask me, I might be able to explain.

But then again, I'm not Christian, so maybe my technique is totally wrong.

I don't really mind too much.

These were the thought of a desperately tired teenager as she tried to sleep... Sad or what?

I'm Only Dancing, She Turns Me On, I'm Only Dancing, She Turns Me On, Don't Get Me Wrong, I'm Only Dancing...*

Well I'm listening to David Bowie...

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

And my lizard just shed his skin all over my bedroom floor... Little Bastard.

So yeah, todays been pretty average. I went to The Food Company, and Nan spent like 80 fucking quid on absolutely nothing (mostly bluten free food which I've decided I like... and cheese). But it is expencivre there. Veyr expencive. It's like shopping in an upper class version of M&S where the food actually tastes remotely edible. Yummy... Cheese...

Ziggy played guitar...

And yesterday I was in town again, spending money in Holland and Barratt on just random shit (Alpro Yogurts and Veggie sausages, oh and Pomegranite juice...) and we went to the Chinese for lunch... I'm getting fed up of that place, honest to God, everytime I'm in town at the momenyt, I'm eating in there... Chinese makes me feel ill as it is... Stop feeding it to me...

I'm actually totally out of things to say... Oh yes, I am going to probably get dreadlocked at some point... I don't know when... Next week I'm egtting colour put in my hair, my hairdresser would freak if I told her... And I'll get pierced for my birthday I guess...** And it will look better than a certain person in our art class who looks like a trollop (great word).

That's it from me I guess... Goodbye biatches (Horrid word)

xxx

*Donna Was Listening To Changes By David Bowie Whilst Writting This Entry. CD Available In All Good And Bad Music Stores, And Free To Download From The Internet... Piracy Fucking Rocks, Dude...
**Donna is Getting very annoyed with her over use of ...'s. It's anoying, stop doing it, or I'll ram that fucking keyboard up your...