Thursday, 3 December 2009

Dreams. What are mine?

Today I am writing about data management for an investment consultancy. Hang on - let me just check my list of childhood dreams:
1. Marry John Travolta
2. Be a great artist/fashion designer/writer
3. have butterscotch Instant Whip every day for pudding

Nope, not on there.


Anyway, onto more important topics. On the cover of a (shit) magazine yesterday I saw the headline 'Lady Gaga Speaks Out About Her Body Image Issues.' I have to say that if I looked like a cross between a dead geisha and a traffic cone I would have body image issues too. Still, you have to admit that dressing like a paralellogram is a more original approach to body dysmorphia than whingeing about boob jobs and showing the highly edited contents of your fridge to a journalist from Closer. Gaga, if you weren't so busy writhing on a flaming piano in a pair of neon Lederhosen, I would take my hat off to you.


If you ever want to meet the polar opposite of Lady Gaga, I suggest you go to the Edinburgh Waverley branch of WH Smiths. Behind the till you will find Marzena, a lady of Eastern European extraction who can lend an air of Slavic melancholy to even the most mundane transaction. She has a deep, mournful voice like Nico farting into thick fog. Who knows what atrocities history has inflicted on Marzena and her people, but the other day she asked me if I wanted a bar of Dairy Milk for a pound and I nearly threw myself under a train. Seriously Marzena, cheer the fuck up. It could be worse - you could work at Upper Crust.

Girl 1: Are you going to your pottery class tonight?
Girl 2: Yeah, I might try to make another teapot. The last one I did looked like a cock.

Hmm, think I'll have a cup of tea.

just testing

hello internets.