Pity the cynic...

'I'm not over you, I'm not over you just yet, Cannot hide it, You're not that easy to forget...' Carolina Liar


13.57, according to faithful Windows. I trust my laptop with my heart. I'm so hxc nerd. I feel the need to get a nice new blog skin. Everyone has these high tech foot long html code ones. Mine's just a blogger template and Poptart boxes... story of my life.


Just read over Danny's last blog post. I got a mention, a nice one. It's weird how in the space of four days you lose all respect for people. In the space of a month, first impressions fade into a honeymoon period which either make or break how you feel about people. Take, for example, Barack Obama. In Atlanta, Georgia and Los Angeles, posters of Barack Obama, the American President, photoshopped to look like the Joker with the caption 'Socialism' (which is quite a harsh political insult) have been dotted around various public places as some anonymous campaign (click here for poster). Am I the only one who remembers Obama as the first president to promise plain, cold Change, as well as the first president of African descent? It's been a matter of months, and the marriage has settled in and the crazed sex is over and the in-laws are hated too. Sir B-rack to the O-bizzle married into the White House, and I'd say divorce papers are on their way. I don't understand though, people act so nice to begin with. With those huge smiles stretched to their eyebrows and that appealing air like they just want to hug you and bake you cookies and be nice to your forever and always and beyond. And then a few weeks later, they're doing things they vowed not to with people who want you out of their lives completely. It doesn't help that this person you thought was nice has dragged people into it who blame ME for putting MY nose in THEIR business. And speaking of which, anonymously is always better than doing it in front of me, sweetheart. Now, my lovely blogging friends, THAT'S a mention.

Sorry for the 'Boo you whore' type speech, I got carried away for a while on a rant as I always do. I wonder where I'd rant without Muchos and the Gaia General Discussion Forums. On a less cynical note, I had a nice day yesterday with Mel. We bought fishies and talked to the hunky Metallica guy who worked in the pet shop about Bullet albums. Being my blonde self, I didn't realize Bullet was Bullet For My Valentine until about 10 minutes into their conversation. FML. Our fishies names were Dairy-Free Ghetto, Blood Rush Pavlova and Guppy AKA Rainbow. And then we sang songs in English Accents on my Trampoline. Scouting for Girls can only be sang in English Accents anyway, it's law in my opinion.

[insert pause here for Lucy's baff]


15.04, out of bath. Smell much nicer and hair doesn't feel greasy. Keane drowning out the whistling drain with the drones of 'Spiralling..' (quite a nice song, actually). And now Pitbull. My week wasn't eventful again. Except for the fact that I got one whole stinking comment. Thanks guys for your effort and determination. Meh, blogging is like talking to myself. I guess it's a sign of mentality. Grr to girly pains. I'd much prefer being a fella. I'd be quite ugly but who gives a shit? I wouldn't need to shower, I wouldn't need make-up, no girly pains, no birth, no heartbreak just heartbreaking. Lovely. Anyone wanna swap with me and be a girl?



Well, I am off now to do nothing and clean as much as I can. Grr. I read my mom's British Medical Association handbook on 'Stress'. I portray 12 out of 16 symptoms. One symptom is considered stress. I don't know where this..'stress' is coming from, but if it's where the insomnia type thing is coming from, I officially hate it.

LUCY XOXO
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