Quit

Ok, I give up.
It's far too hard to think about things to write about and clearly no one is interested in my oh-so-boring life *sob*.
That, and I don't really have time to do this and write in my diary (which I have kept up for x number of years (in other words - a lot)).
So, I will leave this as my stamp on the blogging world. My internet legacy, I am sad to say, is this poor excuse for a blog.
So, farewell, au revoir, hasta lavista and, you know, Goodbye.

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God. Fuck.
Oh, the pain. Why are they putting a fat, old man wearing a monkey mask and a monkey thong (yes, that's thong, people) on Loose Women?? Is that something that the sad, lonely women who sit at home watching daytime TV really want to see? Really?
I think I may have to boycott LW now and go back to Jerry Springer.

Note to self: Get a life. Pretty please.

Void

I have cock-all to say. Now, I realise it's fairly idiotic to write a post just to announce that I have cock-all to say, but it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to. Or something of that effect.
Update on the hair: bought some new dye. Dyed. Hasn't made a great deal of difference but looks a but more platinum with many, many hints of yellow. Bright, sunshine yellow. Damn.
Ok, that's it. I need to get back to watching BBLB. Yes, sad, I know.

Tango'd

As in I look like I have been.
A bit of background info: I first dyed my hair when I was 15; what was originally a dark, dirty blonde turned a violent shade of orange. Then a month later I went to a medium brown/auburn which I have kept (excluding a few drunken pink/red/green incidents) until last night.
So, what happened last night? Silly old me thought a nice change would suit me during these summer months. I thought a nice, light, yet natural blonde would welcome the sun nicely. Once I had made my decision I popped off to Boots and bought a pre-lightening kit and a dye (Natural Light Beige Blonde). I applied the pre-lightener and followed the instructions to the word. When I rinsed I was an alarming yellow colour but I didn't panic - the dye would cover it all up and I'd be a blonde-bombshell. Or so I thought. I used the dye in a similar manner to the lightener. Yet, shock horror, when I rinsed, although it had barely altered my colour, it had thought to deposit a bit of mango orange to compliment my banana yellow.
So, now I'm in the shit. I'll have to just bleach the fuck out of it until it reaches a normal colour. Or until it all falls out. Luckily I don't have to work until Saturday so, fingers-crossed, I won't be looking for a new job this time next week...

Drink

I apologise for last night's post. I was having a bit of a one-woman party. I went on from the 3 bottles of wine to 2 bottles of lager, a further bottle of wine and God knows how much vodka. I'm quite sad, really. It was great fun though. Until this morning, that is - I do miss those days when I could drink all night and wake up a hangover-free zone (and more often that not without any pants and a large penis drawn on my forehead... thinking back, I don't miss that bit much).

To all animal rights activists: I am deeply sorry about the fly-killing incident. But in all honesty, it was only one of those little annoying ones. And flies aren't really animals, are they? No, thought not.

To all tight-makers: a complimentary pair of tights would be appreciated.

Cowboy

I juust squashed a fly on my tightss. It's stuck and a bit gross. EWww.
Just thought I'd drop in an d say "Howdeeee par'ner!". Not that anyone's reading this because I HAVE THE WRITING SKILLS OF A PARTICULARLY UNINTELLGNET MONKEY!!
Haha, well I find me funny.
That may just be because I've just drunk my way through 3 bottles of Pinotage.

Social

"What do you think about this public smoking ban? I think it's a good idea; I only smoke socially anyway."
"Yeah, I'm a social smoker too. Did I mention that I'm very fond of my own company?"

Haha. People are funny.

Pointless

I've just realised how very idiotic it was of me to start a blog. I don't have a life. Not even a little one. Obviously I'm breathing and therefore am technically alive, but this in no way qualifies as a life - more of an existence. So, due to this lack of life I am left with very little to write about, making this a very mundane weblog.
To prove this point (that doesn't really require proof, but I have nothing better to do) I will document my day thus far.
I woke up at 9.30. I then made myself a cup of strong black coffee (2 sweeteners) and rolled myself a cigarette (Golden Virginia and blue RizLa). I drank/smoked these. I realised that I had run out of cat food and so went to the shop (Londis) to purchase some. I thought I would then kill two birds with one stone and top-up the credit on my phone too. But the 'tard in the shop didn't know how to do this. I came home and did some work. I then ate a bowl of Lucky Charms (£5.99 for a box!). In between these events there was alot of sitting down and doing nothing. It is now, well, now and I am watching the Weakest Link.
See, exciting stuff, don'tcha think?

Franchise

Today, two of my colleagues were having a discussion which provoked some thought (very rare occurrence) in my mind.
Their conversation was mainly based on the small, hip, independent coffee/book/whatever else shops that they frequented, and on how much they despised global, money-making businesses.
So, this got me thinking, what really is so bad about these franchises? It takes a lot of confidence to go into one of those little places where everyone knows everyone, whereas in your Starbucks' and Waterstones' and so on, you're just another nameless face; no one really gives a shit about who you are or why you're there. To these places, you're just money. And is that such a terrible thing? After all, that's what business is for - making money.
On the other hand when you go into these little, trendy places you can feel the owner's eyes on you, watching your every move, suspecting you the whole time. It can feel a little awkward, don't you think? And then the little shop bell jingles and in walks a regular, the owner brightens up and the two have a friendly, animated chat for hours as you stand uneasily with your purchase, edging towards the till, hoping not to interrupt. And then, as the conversation winds up, the chatters give you a look of undisguised hostility as you tentatively hand your product to the cashier (who looks like they're likely to spit on you at any time).
To be honest, is it really any wonder that it's the impersonal, money-grabbers are the successes?
Anyway, just a thought...

Further post titles will be more inventive...

Time to join the 21st Century. Time to join this "blogosphere". I can't believe I just said (or wrote - tomato, tomato - you know the deal) blogosphere.
So, now that I have blogged-up, what is it that I'm supposed to bog? No, not bog, blog. Damn keyboard. I could write about my day, but it was just alot of work-related stress. I could write about me but, to be honest, I'm not very good at that. Or I could just stop rambling and write on a day when I have something to write.
Ok, I will finish broadcasting my thoughts to my audience of approximately no one for today.