Nakey ladies and spinning bottles.

Look, guys, it's Alice. Naky. With her hands over her boobies. Great example, Ashley, I mean, not as if 9-13 year olds worldwide think of all the Twiwhores as role models. Not at all. What's with the sudden need of female Celebriteens
releasing old nudes of themself. I think the Vamp one is recent enough but Baby V-jayjays ones are from when she was like.. younger. XD I wanted to find uncensored versions but everyone who had put them up deleted them in case of lawsuit. Bullsheet, imho, but then again, bloggers are too blatant to care about lawsuits. Not our fault that your star likes getting her bullet nipples out, Mr. Disney CEO, it's all the goddamn
cockass brainwashing.

Enough rudey nudeys for one blog post, let's get down to le grande business. Today was one of zee most eventful days of Summer. You guys will be all like OMFG pissy bitch, you're such a liar. But it was because I went to a coffee shop, gobsmacked someone (which is random making out, btw), played spin the bottle, kissed a girl.. in spin the bottle, duhhh, bought Chinese from someone else's money, went out at 1pm and came home at 7. LMAO. Eventful in my humble, virgin opinion. It was quite fun. All the snogging. Ahaha. How weird does that sound. I haven't met someone properly in agggeees. I don't really count Danny, he's a shit meet. He'll be reading this like... little whore who took my money said I'm a shit meet. I only gobsmacked him as a dare. LIKE I dared myself. =P

I'm using a lot of smileys this blogpost. Holy fuckola. (:
I ate a bloody lot today. Growing teen. It's beginning to show. Tum tum. I don't want tum tum.
Maybe my tits will grow too. That would be fun. YAY TITS. Ahhhh. Spin the bottle, I made out with everyone playing. I guess it's the luck of the bottle. I'm just a h-o-a-r. Spelt incorrectly on porpoise (as was that) because it's a Bo Burnham song.

Not in a blogging mood,
dazed from too much food.
Listening to Panic!
Ciao, ciao, little ones.


LUCY XOXO

Theres a good reason these tables have numbers...

Welcome, welcome, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Readers. Looky looky. Pokétoyota. Felt the need to put that up because it has no relevance to anything whatsoever except that I'm ILLEGALLY downloading the first pokemon movie with Mew and Mew Two in it and stuff. Nicky hates the new skin 'cus he said it's fail because it is and I know it, but that cranky little two inch bitch could at least try and be nice to me... haha irony. Lately, I've been quite interested in oxymorons. It's an odd obsesssion, of course I'm well aware, but they're just so goddamn awesome. Alsoooo, I'm only growing fonder of that person that I like and it sucks because everytime I think of them my heart drops through my ass and I remind myself that I was the one who fucked up, not him, so I should just get over it and move on and be glad and full of life but I can't for some bizarre reason and that's why I desperately need a girls day. And more copy discs so I can put Pokémon on one and make a disc collection of Panic! At The Disco now that I have the new song from Jennifer's Body called New Perspective... it's awesome and if anyone wants it, just message me at lkbennett@live.com or email me. Even after I send you the track, we can have like.. fun and good times and stuff. Because I'm like that.

Oh yes, bebo conversations got me thinking about all those 'I love you like...' comparisons.
So yeah, I wanna make a list.
I'll type the ones I got so far down here, collected or my own, and then you guys comment with more, kk?

• I love you like Sarah Palin loves hypocrisy
• I love you like Anorexics love dieting
• I love you like your mom loves my dildos
• I love you like Elton loves men bending over naked
• I love you like a fat kid loves cake
• I love you like Dumbledore loves Grindlewald... ;)
• I love you like oreos love milk
  
• I love you like you don't love me
• I love you like niggas (OMG RACIST JOKE, TURN AWAY) love nike
• I love you like a certain someone likes girls clothes
• I love you like...YOUR MOM'S CHESTHAIR..

Well, I'mma probably sit inside and go out later. So I might post again.
Or not.
Also, discuss in comments: Dane Cook/Vanessa Hudgens TEEN CHOICE SCAAANDAAAL.
I think it was slightly out of line of Dane but Baby V-gina kinda fucking deserves it for showing us her torpedo nipples. Christ, woman, you're too skinny, okay? Stop showing us in detail!

LUCY
XOXO

Mad Hatter had matter.

Random page from my.. 'thought book',
Decided to post random pages every once in a while.
Click to enlarge I think.
I don't know.
If it isn't, just zoom.



Look, look, oh dedicated ones.
New blog layout, as courtesy of PsycHo blogger generator.
It was one of the first links when I googled 'blogger layout generator' because everyone else's blogs are so damn clean cut so I needed it too. I decided to be faithful to blogger by keeping the nav. bar on it. I hate when people cut it from their site, it just pisses me off. It ruuuuuins their identification as a Blogspot user. Grr, boo you little nav. bar cutting whores. Yesterday's post was simply emo angst bratty whiny teenager and really, my life isn't as crapola as I make it out to be.

Erhaww, well, guess what? I didn't stay in and watch 'Let The Right One In'. I went outsiiiiide after chores. Becus' I am a good girl. Ask my mommy. I had a nice daaay, even if fahva (father, for you who do not understand english accents) ruined it all last minute. XD He really didn't, and I know he tries to be good and stuff but he fails a lawwwwt. Aha, I'm quite hyper-happy pink elephants right now, so not good for bloggedy blog time. I was so proud of the new layout that I needed to post. And yeah, um, I notice that the moosic player is in this post, but it's because I don't know where to put it with this new layout. o_o'



[EDIT: Actually, I put the musicmaker over there on the left and took it out of this post, ehm, yeah, sorry for le grande inconvenience..]




# - peace out girl scout... xox
Comment what you think of Sir Layout.

Anger on a bratty level.

"I believe, this may call for a proper introduction..."

11.05am.


Absolutely just pissed off. I don't get it. I mean, this year hasn't been all that easy for me. People have it so much worse but I guess I'm just so used to being in my comfort zone. I mean, I'm fourteen. Basically, just a little girl. You can give a little girl a bra and tell her she's a woman... does that make her a woman? Lately, my parents are just.. going too far with the keeping me inside thing. It's just so frustrating, because they know that the only thing that keeps me sane is the outside world. I know you're supposed to trust your blood relatives the most and talk to them when you have problems, but I can't. They don't listen. I tell them important things like school fees are due the next week and when the day comes, they don't have anything ready and they blame me for not telling them. When I try to talk to my mom about my life and why I get so upset about everything, she brushes me off as a dramaqueen and tells me to stop crying. Or shouts at me to stop crying. And we all know, that rarely makes someone stop crying. Well today, the reason I'm pissed off is because incredibly late notice, I have to cancel a girl's day in. After staying in practically all week doing chores. It's too 'stressful'. It's just so annoying, because He said it would be fine last Tuesday. And then he said I have to do chores. More chores. It's getting way too much now. I have 3 weeks left of school and I spend roughly 90% of my time indoors and the other 10% consists of two hours out with my friends or trips to the supermarket. And it would be different if I went out during the year. But I really don't. I don't understand. All other teenagers are outside being teenagers. Having fun. Instead, I'm trapped inside in my pyjamas being yelled at for ironing wrong or lying down because my back is killing me. I sound like such a little brat. But in my head, it's slightly different. And there's this other thing I can't tell anyone even though I already told 3 people who I substitude for family. It kinda puts the other things into a different perspective. Doesn't help that people are saying horrible things about me behind my back. I used to not care, but lately, they're getting to me.

I just needed to let out my childish complaints. Just for the fucking sake of it.
I watched an anime series yesterday, Princess Lover! Only 5 eps were on Zomg Anime but they were funny and cute. I officially love Teppei Arima. He's just way too adorable, I swear, if you watch it, you'll have this urge to hug Teppei. Marlyn Manson is incredibly distracting whilst trying to blog. Blog blog blog. I feeeeel the need to embed the new Fall Out Boy Video.



Because I'm like that. And Brendon Urie's in it... half of Panic! At The Disco now. XD Still kinda angry at Ryan for leaving. He was hot.

Nothing else to rant about this Sunday morning. Will sit in and cry and watch 'Let The Right One In'. Because I'm overly emotional.

Lucy
x <3

Steady as she goes..

Good Mornafternoon, dearies.
14.04 apparently. I'm in an absolutely horrid mood, terrible, atrocious disgusting, so this will most likely be a short post. About random crap. As always.
My back is killing me. Nobody commented on the last post but somebody rated so that means that one person read it but never commented so boo you, whore.

Actually, I'm truly not arsed posting, and if you read this, go comment on the fiction passage down there.

Lucy.

If only things like this really happened....

They sat side by side away from the crowd, sentences tumbling like waterfalls of sweet nothings. Today, she sees him as more than the friend he had been. She prays he thinks the same. The sky is darkened like spilt ink and the biting wind whips her face with her soft hair. She brushes it out of her eyes and closes her arms around her, waiting for the comforting warmth. He pulls his parka hood over his head and puts one hand on her back to support her as she shifts her legs from underneath her to hug. She smiles inwardly, hoping he didn't notice her face contort in the comfort of his hand. He yawns and his arm moves around her, intended, but of course she doesn't know that. She twists and her phone falls into the soft, cold grass. She feels his eyes on her, in an awkward stare. She bends over to retrieve the phone and as she sits back up, he stares warmly into her eyes, entranced. He begins to dive towards her in slow motion, and she knows what happens next. He cups her jaw and his warm, vanilla-salt lips are on hers, and she clings to his back as his tongue brushes her upper lip skilfully and they intertwine in fireworks and flowers and their own unique tastes, and everything both of them could've wished for that Summer. His hands trailed down her neck, around her waist, and he breathed in her warm feminine aroma along with the crisp, cold evening air. A gentle sigh escapes her lips as she pulls away. A whisper slides out of her mouth: 'Things won't be the same from now on...' He shuffled to see if they had an audience but nobody had disturbed their conversations. He puffed air in the direction of the wind. 'No,' he said, simply, 'I guess not'.


[Passage written by... ehm...Lucy, just there. Normal post tomorrow, I promise...Lucy, x <3]

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
comment-rate-follow

Whores and Horseshoes.

Dramawhores.
I know so bloody motherfucking goddamn cock ass bitch ass fuck face many of them.
They come in dozens, like 'Plastic Bitch Action Figure, get her while her pussy's tight'.
I'm likeee... ch'yeaah, okay, walk away.
Arms around my neck and a knife in my back.

Welllll, apologize profoundly for not posting. I went to Wexforddddd, Irish countryside. Filled with tourists of all shapes and sizes.... mostly round and short though. And burnt. It wasn't terrible, but I truly didn't enjoy myself. There was this hot french/canadian/south african boy and he was all eyes for me. Dreamy, smokey eyes. And his hair was like dirty blonde and sand coloured, like he was blessed and made for me or something. Tall, skinny, with tan shorts and surfer t-shirt, pair of scuffed up vans. I really wish I coulda had a chance, but he had left by the next day and there went the highlight of my holiday. Betcha his name was poetic and sexual like... Pierre or...Gaston. Or maybe it was Peter or something. Hopefully not, that would ruin his sophisticool air. Everyday, my sister demanded beach. As you all know, I'm major freak infinitely. But I also hate beaches with a bubbling, searing passion. The gritty feeling of sand in your toes and panties. And your hair. And every other major boy entrancing body part. And then the smell of rotting carcass and the wind wrecking my hair and the fat lobster women parading around in skin tight bikinis that cut into their fat rolls and muffin tops. It's not an attractive past time imho, but then again, not much is. I missed my friends way too much too. I really can't live without them. Like, I was going stir crazy thinking that gossip was whistling behind my back. Like whistling like a whistling thing on a whistle boat.

Ahaaa, the final Georgia Nicolson chronicle diary thing is out. Hence my version of L33T Speakz. Aka...... retardlanguage2.0. I was like OMFGZZ noes. Because I wanted the series to go on foreverest and infinity and beyond so I would be a mumsie type person and pop to the bookshop to the teenage/young adult section and go 'Ooh looky, "That's when he said my thong was showing...' is out.' I'd be filled with immaturiosity as I walked to the counter and then pick up a Hello Kitty notebook and strawberry scented pen and then write notes about the book as I read it and be all like' Oh, fresh giddy joy, I remember my teenhood and the stoner friends and the underwire and the bubblegum lipgloss and all the male friends that I ended it up going out with...' and then my kids would be like..'OMFGZ cyberspaz attack. Look at mum's meltdown, she's like trippin' hxc to the unck unck beat.' That's my impression of Robo-Juno future slang. I think I didn't do that bad a job. Anyhoo, I finished the book in like 3 hours, because I took a break and gulped down like four cidonas halfway through. It was good and I'm not gonna put any spoilers because anyone who has read to the last book will know that it's kinda fucking obvious who she ends up with anyway and it's not italian bloke, for you bimbos.

Lady Gawgaw.
Well yeah, some peeps are making me Nervy B.
So I'mma go. Short post.
I am really sorry.
Well, peace out, girl scout.
MWAH MWAH
LUCY
XOXO

Poise and rationality...

Sitting here in the dim half-light hitting the furniture from the window, I know this post is going to be a cryptic code that I'll be the only one that'll understand it. Except maybe the person I really want to go online for a much-needed MSN councelling session. I don't know, it's just I feel like she's been in my position before and that I can trust her with this. The falling feeling. It's the only way to describe it. Like you're floating in the air with Aladdin but the magic flying carpet is pulled from under you and you're sent soaring backwards into oblivion, until you smash yourself into the darkness beneath you. Built up to be knocked down. Everyone gets the falling feeling once in a while. It's a major part of the 21st century, where media runs wild, where people are growing more vivid and less inward. I mean it in many ways. We place our trust in people far too easily, and we get betrayed. We fall in love even easier, and it ends in tears and tragedy. Even simple crushes can tear people apart in ways that no others can imagine. That falling feeling is pretty much a bi-monthly thing in the noughties.

I'm in the midst of falling myself. In the car, on my way home, I fought back tears, for fucks sake. I'm not even too sure why. I guess it's the charade that something and someone and yikes, I'm almost in tears just typing. Why is everyone so mean to eachother? I'm angryyyy at evveeeerrytthhhhhiingggggg. Slamming my head against the ironing board for no good reason, just to let it out, just to let the ironing board know that I'm not happy and probably won't be for quite a while. That one motherfucking faghaired gentleboy is just ruining everything for everyone. Why does he do it? Why does he have to meddle with everyone's lives in the space of a few months? He needs to grow up and get a life. I don't even know how I ever crushed on that bastard. He's just.... GRRRRRR. Infuriating. He goes near any one of my friends, and I swear to god, I will rip his testes off faster than he can say 'gtfo'. I don't even understand why? Why at all? Why is everything so goddamn complicated? It can be straight forward and drama-free. It's like I'm living in 'John Tucker Must Die'. Except I'm neither of the blonde pretty ones, nor am I the hot cheerleader or sexual vegan. I'm basically the fat chick with glasses. But I'm not fat, I just have dwindling confidence when I don't gorge on sugar. And no self esteem. I'm tired of faking self esteem. I sound bloody full of myself anyway just saying this but I don't mean it this way. I hate myself. The orange make-up. The overdone eyeliner. The clothes. The hair. The need to hide under my hoodie. It's revolting. Nobody likes me as I am now. Nobody likes me if I change. I can't even hold down boyfriends without getting dumped or getting bored, yet I hate being single. I long to be a muse type person; captivating, beautiful, intruiging. No. I'm just the young girl whose lost in her own perverted little mind that everyone finds too peculiar to function and wishes that people would give her a chance. Yikes.

Well.
That was Lucy's let it all out post.
Which I do a lot. But yeah. I let it all out.
Feel the need to talk to me?
lkbennett@live.com

Lucy
XOXO

An actual post.

Yo, yo, yo, *insert racist slang here and then remove it or censor it because it's cruel*. T'is L-bizzle-to-the-u-c-yizzle. Hard environment to blog in: My bedroom with clothes all over the place and towels over every corner. It's quite confusing because I'm so distracted and lose my train of thought much easier than I usually do. I saw something in the newspaper about Blogger this morning, which was amazing, because Irish newspapers mostly report on stupid D-list celebrities and financial crises and the occasional murder/drug/manslaughter case. I mean, there was a whole page dedicated to the scandal that was Brian O'Driscoll, Irish rugby team captain/large preppy douchebag, being ejected from a booth at Oxegen because he fell on one of the Kings Of Leon WAGS. S'like.. kai kai, boy, you complain. And then the reporter was like 'Brian is an important and valued Irish Citizen'... I don't know what fucking type of rose-tinted glasses these idiots are wearing, but imho, Brian O'Driscoll.... about as important as a toothpick. Anyyywaay, the Blogger report thing. It was an article on married women with affairs and how they anonymously blog about it. They had these clips of the blogs and they put the blog addresses underneath and I was going to go check 'em out but then I was like 'Meh, lazy'... Also, something else in the Irish newspaper that was blog related was that they had found one of their writers on blogger.. Recessionista Chic. She writes about living as fashion-obsessed female in time of recession. I was in my head like, bish, I could fucking do that. Maybe someday someone will find my astonishingly amateur blogging attempts and go 'OMFGZZ, Mister Editorr sirrrrz, small teenage loser who has blog which she bitches to would be great writer for our expensive paperzz, chyeaah!'. As ifzez. Mister Editorzz. Everyone is still all like... 'make up your mind, pretty boy' to gayhaired gentleboy.. As far as I know at least, because I wasn't outside yesterday because my stupid sister has to be 'irresponsible' therefore I must take care of her. 'KTHXBAI, Life, I'll see you when I'm 18 (Y)'. And lately my whole family are so pmt, it's not logical, because my dad can't even have a period. I dropped a piece of paper from my bra and my mom went ape shit crazy. I was like, chiiiillll, you act like I burnt it into the flo', mama jama. Which I didn't. I think I'd remember. Well, nothing to talk about. Yiiiiikes. I'll write later, I pwomise.

LOVE LUCY XOXOXOXO

UPDATEEEE.

Y'ello, my dearies.
Dropping this creation from another location.
So, I haven't posted in agggeeesss. AKA. A couple of days, but in my opinion, ages. I think the lack of comments bar Vicky's usual one (ily, my amazing close follower) put me off posting again. Considering that 3 people at most ever read this blog, I probably don't need to update it AT ALL. But I do it anyway...for those 3 people who I love so dearly simply for being those three people. My life has gotten noticeably more eventful, but it's all stuff that I can't really put on the web without the people involved finding it. I'll be as bloody subtle as possible. A dude with the hair of a gay and the scent of a fish is fucking with people's head again, people who I'd prefer to be happy and safe and unharmed by said Gay Fishy Gentleman. That wasn't as inconspicuous as I had planned, but it doesn't make a difference, because a lot of blokes in my area have fag hair and bad odour and greasiness. I guess it's a teenage thing.

I really haven't done a lot in the past week and a half due to minding my sister and coughing up small mammals, but Sunday was some great craic. We had a girrrllly day, basically because of the Faghaired one being such a fag. We even played dress up because we're such mature young ladies, and we had a hot-chocolate party because tea parties are over-rated.

That was basically an update, and I'll try and make a real post later because I'mma go make a Tagged account now, so peace out girl scouts.
LUCY XOXO

Pros and cons of breathing

G'morning, lovelies. 12.04pm, 24th of July 2009. 3 years away from the apocalypse and the coming of God's raptor.. aka Doomsdragon.


Just listened to After Hours- We Are Scientists.
From the Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist soundtrack. I adoreeee that movie. I only watched it last night, but I can't get it out of my head so I'll probably end up watching it again tonight. It was just my exact type of movie: indie rom-com with weird twist, gays and a band named after a rabbit. I'd say I'll love this movie forever more. Vampire Weekend, We Are Scientists, The Submarines, The Real Tuesday Weld. Quality film making. This sounds very odd, but my favourite part would be the scene in the recording studio. I mean, it's Lucy and the scene's about fucking, you probably guessed already. But I thought it was so adorable, because in the shop the bitchy one was all like 'Oh Norah, I bet you've never even had an orgasm' and then Norah was all flustered like 'Ehh, I don't know' and then the man beside her goes 'If you did, you'd know' and poor Norah was all embarassed, and then in the recording studio they have a decibel reader thing and you just hear her moans and see the monitor take readings and then they show her writhing in pleasure and then he stands up and zips up his pants, Norah follows and off they go. Quick, but I just thought it was so sweet. Also, who wouldn't like to tap Michael Cera? SPOILER: In the end, they find Fluffy but they're too loved up to watch the show and it's like 4am. Considering they were teenagers still in school, I find it hard to believe that their parents weren't fazed by any of it. Oh well, it was still a wonderful movie. Special features rocked too, when Kat did the puppet show. 'I believe in miracles, doin' a stripteease, doin' a stripteeaseee.' Hilarity.

Grr. Father figure woke me up at 10am to make me take pictures, after I got no sleep at all last night because I was coughing like hell and roasting and then as soon as I try to help him to understand the basic way to use a camera, he grounds me for shouting at my mother. As I leave the room, my sister yells at me for wearing her hairband. Through the duration of this escapade, I'm coughing like hell, I hit my head on a shelf and my feet were bleeding. And after, I had a raging headache. FML. I'm just lounging around today, got nothing better to do. Grand Theft Autumn acoustic edition on repeat on my iTunes. Fall Out Boy are so mainstream now, they kinda deplete the whole indie thing that I'm trying to edge towards so I can drop the 'emo' thing. Oh well, if I like music, I like music. It's as simple as that really. Where is your boyfriend at? Just had a cup of tea so I probably won't get much sleep today. I'm trying so hard to tire myself out lately. Sleeping is one of the most difficult activities of my lifetime. It's like I'm having a mid-life crisis. Except it's like mid-mid-life crisis. Come to think of it, my parents never had mid-life crises. They didn't go back to wearing 70s clothes and smoking weed whilst listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival and the Steve Miller Band. They didn't freak out and run around the house looking for bunnies. Or anything of lesser form. Mom got more hormonal, dad golfed more. I wouldn't class that as mid-life crisis. They even sleep fine. It's weird how that's the only time they remain normal. They never were normal parents. I love them anyway, even if we do fight.

I guess you could say I love everyone. Somedays, when I'm in a good mood, I tell everyone I see that I love them and to pass it on. As per usual, nobody passes it on. But it's a nice feeling when people say they love you in any form. It's like 'd'aawwh, thanks for caring'. Especially on the days when it feels like nobody does care, when you're wearing a raincloud as a hat. Maybe that's just me though. There really is no point of hate anymore. I say I hate people but I really don't mean it in as strong as terms as that. I mean it like: they're annoying, occasionally deceitful, bitchy, two faced and slutty... but aren't we all? I have a lot of people who hate me, it's a regular thing, and I end up just living with it. It's a proven fact that one person thinks about you each night. It could be your parent, sibling, friend or secret admirer. Nobody's proven the fact that each night somebody says something mean about you, but I bet that's the case too. Hatred is just...... it's that horrible coffee flavoured one in the box of chocolates we call life. People say they're going to eat it, but in the end, it's left there all alone. That didn't make sense, but my blogs rarely ever do. Maybe I'm going insane. Am I a stone..? Am I a sponge..?

Summer's almost over. I feel like I wasted it, but everyone else is pretty much content with it. I have a month left to do some crazy apeshit stuff, now I just need to motivate the people around me to do the same. I want to get some kick ass ipod speakers and stand outside the playground and mime Jonas Brothers to passers-by and see if we can get them to sing along. I want to stand on a tree and shout out that I love cookies. I want to have a REAL mexican night or a sleepover or go exploring the fields that my uncle owns late at night with flashlights and mobile phones and werewolf bait. But I don't have time for all of that. Maybe next Summer, dearies, maybe next Summer. I guess the least I can do is enjoy myself doing what I do. I'll try and drink ice-tea instead of energy drinks to keep my cool. Ice tea is incredibly vintage anyway. Maybe not. But it tastes hella good. Comment question of the post: Nestea ice tea or Lipton ice tea and which flavour do you like the most? Nestea pwns Lipton in my opinion. And I like the peach flavour best but they dont have that in Ireland so yeah I like the berry one best.


Nothing else to talk about really.
Laptop running out of battery and nobody writes back to me on msn.
I feel like my presence is greatly appreciated. (Y)
Talk to youu later, loseeeers.


Lucy
xoxo

Slower, slower...

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry...





If you are reading this, I officially love you.
Herrow, my blog followers. As I type this, my soundtrack is Broken by Beautiful Letdown, which is a great song that I scored for free from Windows when I surfed Brokencyde's myspace page that had a link to free legal mp3's. It was a good idea, because I downloaded like, 20 songs all by different bands. And I really want to buy the albums now. From iTunes. I haven't pirated in my entire life, nuh uh... *shifty expression*. In reality, music normally distracts me just a little bit from writing posts but my sister's breathing like a dog with lungs made of sieves and sniffling like she's hoping to vacuum coins. I love her, really, but some of her... 'attributes' annoy the shit outta me. Why do eleven-year-olds need to be so loud when their sister's get into the house after a long day of doing nothing?! I don't know. I spent yesterday as I always spend my days, in the playground and the surrounding area. Danny came dowwwwnnnn and he can stay in Ireland which is good except it's all stressful and stuff and yeaaah. I know I really shouldn't blog about this but I'll mild it down anyway... Nicky is way more annoying then originally thought. And if he reads this, you know you don't like me and I'm twice as annoying so it evens out. Soundtrack change: Redlight District, Porcelain and the Tramps. I've been listening to tonnes of P.A.T.T lately. Alaina Beaton is pretty much god to me. I would give my appendix to look like her. Alaina Beaton reminded me of the 'Girls I'd like to tap' list that was made up in the playground. Pretty much everyone would tap Helena Bonham Carter. She's just too shexual, even in Corpse Bride, when it's just her voice. Anyway, back to yesterday! I spent basically four hours in the playground but it was a pretty cloudy day and the atmosphere was quite emo. I took apeshit loads of photos, which I was going to put on my facebook but then the upload terminated after they were almost done uploading. FML much. But they're all on my bebo, and if you want to add me, comment waaay down there. I'm beginning to be all sad again in public. I'm getting worse at the hiding it thing, Efa noticed yesterday. Maybe she was just being inquisitive. She always knows when I'm sad. Peculiar happenings. I don't even have reason at all! I'd understand if someone had terminal cancer, or if something bad had happened, but nothing did. I don't get ittttt. I thought I was over all the depressing shit. Dammit. Soundtrack change: Cookie Jar- Gym Class Heroes. I want cookies now. I know the songs about girls and two-timing and shit, but I still want cookies. I know this song is probably one of the most mainstream things ever, but it's too damn catchy.


Soundtrack change: How to save a life, The Fray. I want to try and soulsearch for you guys. I need to show more truth on this site. I'd like to say exactly every detail of every single feeling but that'd get me in a lot of trouble, as it did back on Cynical and Whimsical. That was my stalker blog. I feel so sorry for that boy. It was a bloody obsession over nothing. It was only cancelled in likeee.... February, I think. I can't remember. I read every post before I deleted it and then I realized how sad it was. That's when I reset. I made the new Lucy, this girl on this blog who is herself who doesn't need some boy to make her happy, although she has one and is content with it. The new Lucy doesn't lie as much, the new Lucy doesn't gossip as much, the new Lucy doesn't complain as much. In honesty, even early teenagehood is just that: lies, gossip and complaints. I was talking to my mom about it a few nights ago, about what it was like to me my age back in her time. She said it was nothing like this, that the worse thing girls ever said to eachother was that their skirt was caught in their knickers followed by some laughter and then an apology. Boy, I wish it were like that. I like to call the noughties 'The Mean Girls Generation'. Yes, the title is based on the movie. You're probably sitting there going... that movie was a work of fiction, stuff measured in dick inches. I beg to differ. I've come across as bitchy stuff as that in my school. Maybe not the fucking in the auditorium storage room, but I go to an all girl school so that'd be quite odd to walk in on. There are cliques in my year. I'll lay it out for you... At the top of the food chain, there are the popuwhores. The popular girls who do whatever their boys want, wear tracksuits and miniskirts, get crappy grades and straighten their hair by the lockers each morning. Then it goes down to the popuwhore followers, who basically trail after the truly popular girls doing exactly what they do except slightly less successfully. Then it's the sports teams, which basically includes most popuwhores and then some other chicks who don't really fall into any other category. Then there are the inbetween type people, like the average people who wear jeans and scarves, who get normal grades. Then it's like the 'alternative' people, who exist and there's no denying it. Some ... 'alternative' people hang out with popuwhores and inbetweeners. Then there are the smart girls.. Don't get me wrong, some of the smart girls are the kindest people you'll ever meet, but the others can be so prissy and horrible. There's these few girls who just look down on me all the time because they're smarter than me and more perfect. I mean, they do too many sports, they are astonishingly pretty without make up on, they dress smart, they get amazing grades and they all play piano or clarinet or flute or something. People don't like them out of jealousy/annoyance. And then there are the loners. I feel so mean for writing all of this, but I'm just telling it like it is. People will greatly disagree with me on this but deep down, they know that even some of it is correct. Everyone will agree with the popuwhore part. Maybe not in my exact word though. It's tough to be part of this whole evil circle of life type thing. You either float or sink. Float, and you become respected and looked upon in jealousy. Sink, and you end up sitting alone. I'm fed up of it already, but I only have ... 4 years left. Niiice. I have a friend who was driven out of our school by bullying and rumours and homophobes. You wouldn't think it would happen in Ireland, but hell, of course it does. Okay, I admit to failing at the soul searching, it was more of a spill of random toxic shit from inside my brain. That happens a lot. I am going to love you and leave youu with my amazing mention from a youtuber that I subbed to and watch! I was like ^-^ when I saw my name on that post-it and she drew a cow and all. She only has 50 subscribers but she's so cute and all so yeaah. I screenshotted my post-it mention.


BTW, she inspired me to make signs for all you followers. So if you want a sign, you write your name in the comments, and I'll get right to it.


Peace out, girl scout.
New post later or something. LUCY XOXO

Ooh, the joy of swinging.

Just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in this song...





Helloooo.
Lucy on zee blog, bayubs.
After reading Shane's last blog post, I decided that I needed to make my blog more mature vocabulary wise considering last post was filled with random blabber that bubbled out of my brain, through my fingers and out onto Muchos Poptart. I'll make this as meaningful as I possibly can without making a presidential speech that will bore you all to pieces. I'll try and strive for the Alice in Wonderland thing that happened ages ago that readers seemed to like. I won't get those results though, that post was after coffee and incense. Good idea to warn you that this is another quite short post because my life isn't very eventful.

Today, I had another pile of realizations. People who read this blog daily will know that a lot of the time my posts include brief realizations throughout my monotonous teenage life. This is one of those kinda posts. I went off to see my grandparents as a surprise because my father's second cousin died. In rural Ireland, second cousins are close family members, as are third cousins twice removed by marriage. I'll break it down: If you're family, you're family. Anyway, back to the visit. It's a two hour journey, one of those incredibly cliché family bonding moments where you sing along to the songs on the radio but then you all end up fighting and being car sick and you can't wait until you finally reach your destination and breathe a sigh of relief that it's over and that you now have fresh air. Seeing my grandparents made a warm feeling spread up my veins, especially my Grandad because he had like 3 strokes and funerals had been arranged and all but I was all upset because I wouldn't have been able to visit him because I was still recovering from the operation. He lived. My parents don't really give people chances; I'm afraid to faint in case I wake up six feet under. As a family group, we headed to a pub, something people off in the country do regularly, I'm guessing. I don't survive well in pubs. Something about the strong, stinging scent of vast amounts of alcohol, the faint scent of tobacco and the greasy, stuffy atmosphere repels me from places like that unless I had extremely good reason. My good reason was that if I didn't go in there, my father would refuse to talk to me for a week or two. He's incredbily mature that way. After a few minutes and two Cidonas, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I was sitting in a corner seat and the thatched roof seemed to drop downward, and the walls seemed to want to brush against eachother. I said I didn't feel so good and dragged my sister out for a walk. My father's hometown is cute, quaint and anything but modern. It's a riverside village with a walk guiding straight beside the waters along to a playground and docks. We strolled along silently. It was a beautiful day, the sun hit the water so that it reflected on to the surrounding boats and rocks and the wind whistled past our ears. We really had no reason to destroy the captivating nature with silly comments or bad phone-speaker-chart-toppers. Stopping at the playground, I noticed something that isn't usual in towns. The playground had no teenagers in it. Where I live, the playground is usually over-run by pubescent boys and girls sitting on swings or under slides or on the benches. Where we were, four and five year olds frolicked on relatively graffiti-free playwear with their parents staring contently from nearby. Me and Kellie dashed for the play equipment. Me being fourteen and her being eleven, we both agree we're too old for playground adventures; But, boy, does it make me nostalgic. It's magical. All the bright colours and the climbing and spinning. Call me easily amused, but I haven't had as much pure, good clean fun in years. Then there were the swings. Totally different feeling entirely. I do my best thinking on swings. And on the toilet, but that's for a different blog post. It's the feeling of defeating gravity if only momentarily, and that shift in the seat when you get to the highest point and how your stomach slightly sways. The flying feeling. I sat and swinged for 20 minutes. In that period of time, my mind emptied itself entirely. I managed to remind myself that everything's gonna be okay. Everything is always going to be okay; It's life. No matter how much happens, whoever you are, it'll all be for the best.

The rest of the day was basically just a mirror image of the start. Except as soon as I walked in the door, it seemed my mutti and vati were bickering again. Will they ever shut their faces for a day or two and let me soak in the serene silence of peace?


Lucy. XOXO

WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PEN?

Those elysian smiles I thought I'd keep forever...



Hello, oh dedicated/lazy fags of readers. See I went for sarcasm at the start of that tribute to you guys but then I decided that I'd have to make it clearer for the blondes and children. Although basically two people read the blog and even then it's usually just one. Props to you, Vicky, for being that one. Errrrm, yeah, so apologies for last night's post. It was an emo day. Except I was outside hyper for it, and then I went home and the sugar rush wore off. And then emo blog post. I'll try and make this as long and detailed as possible but knowing me I'll run off and eat midway and maybe or maybe not publish this later. Just to make it easier for you to understand my settings and location and what not, I am in our sitting room type thingy. I can see over the top of zee laptop, and what is there is the coconut hair painting of a cat stretched out on grass. Not very logical anatomically, it appears to have no elbows. Poor elbowless cat. Anyhoo, I can see my sister typing over on the Apple. She keeps bending over the couch to check her phone. I don't get why she can't just let it reside closer to her. She's a freeeak... Ahaha; says me. She types kinda weird. It sounds like horseys running along on tar. Or cobblestones. Whichever takes your fancy, I suppose. I can also see the kiddie piano that my grandparent's thought I need for Christmas last year. Which 13 year old needs a small fake keyboard that allows you to use two whole keys at the same time? Okay. Scratch all that because I occasionally use it to sing along to Kelsey. I can feel my wet hair down my back and I'm pretty sure the water in it is gonna leave a patch of coldness on my bra. And my morning breath. Reminds me that I need to brush my teeth. That's right, folks, I do forget to brush my teeth, so shoot me. The sun is streaming in the window. Big fucking window. Why is the sun so annoyingly bright? And it always manages to get into my eyes. Mr Sun, Sun, Mr Golden Sun, fuck off and leave me alone. The hilarity if Barney actually sang my amazing lyrics to the little children. Oooooh and then to top it all off: 'I love you, you love me, I'll touch you, don't try to scream.' Hey, Barney producers, hire me to write your kiddy songs. (Y)

In case you guys think the (Y) thing is a crappy internet memeish symbol for cleavage; No, It isn't. It's a thumbs up sign. See the resemblance. The brackets symbolize the hands and the Y symbolizes the creases and shit. Speaking of hand gestures, anyone ever see the collegehumor episode 'Hand Vagina'? You gotsa put your hand's together and then spread the fingers out, and then someone does the same, and one of you's keeps your hands vertical while the other turns them horizontally. Tilt the fingers towards the other person like so the fingertips are parallel to the person. And then MR/MRS horizontal slots their hand between MR/MRS vertical's middle and pointer fingers. And then horizontal person opens their hand upwards and looks inside and there's a vagina. Me and Kate kept doing that one of those indoor Summer days and then we kept getting all squeamish and it was gross. Like we were actually looking at eachother's vagina's except we weren't. We promise. It's even better if you slide a finger into the holey gappy thing and it feels like you're being penetrated not that I would know, but it made my hand all tingly. OMFG, I'm clearly a handasexual. Society will spite me now, they'll build walls around me like the lepers/leopard's way back when in Jerusalem. And then Jesus will come and save me.. *sarcasmface*. Oh yeah, guys, guess what?! We're all gonna die in 2012. Yaaaay. It's pretty damn obvious that everyone is over-reacting just like Y2K. Nothing happened in Y2K. We all lived. Durrh. Because if we didn't I wouldn't be typing this, you wouldn't be reading this, and my sister wouldn't be giving me a headache. If we do all die though, I hope it's like Cloverfield. How cool would it be to see your closest friends and family members all pop from infected alien wounds? Pop goes the huuuuman. I liked that scene in the movie. She went into the tent and then you see this weird explosion of blood and guts and person. Well, that was after she started bleeding out of her eyes. She really shoulda got those symptoms checked out when they first appeared. Silly, silly girl. Was I the only one who thought that actress was the awesome supposed lesbian out of Mean Girls except she was all grown up and mature and didn't have those stupid dreadplaits anymore? Maybe it's just my eyesight. *sigh*.

Some reallly bitchy people are pissing me off of late. Note to self, buy harpoon gun and then have bitchkillingspree and invite other people who would like to see said bitches die painfully. Oooh better idea: induce false labour in each girl after inpregnating them with a manwhore (ahah, people who know me personally will already have one name in their head) and then as they go through excruitiating child birth pain, slit their throats halfway and watch 'em bleed out. Better yet, how about I simply ignore them and stop acting like I hate them with a passion when I really just want to be neutral like Switzerland towards them and then I can stay out of jail for murder/manslaughter and live a happy life as a Vietnamese hobo who isn't from Vietnam.


Well,
I'm going to go now.
So peace out, girl scout.
LUCYXOXO

[[PS:
I set my friends on fire, the musical.
From last year, but the pen song is a classic.]]






Ooh, and look up 'Jody Has A Hitlist'.
They phucking rockkkkk.

Oh, fuck it.

Through the window the watcher came...

Ooohhhhh, I fail. Here's the thing, bishes. I don't post half as much. I'd like to say that when I leave you for a while it builds anticipation, but nah, I'm just too lazy. I'm just remembering the days when I blogged daily, how I could hardly survive without it. I think I'm going back to that stage. I'm not gonna lie, the blog before this one was a dark hole. It was the way I felt, and letting it out was just sweet serenity. I have a perfectly great life, so I guess the thing that always got me down was my self esteem and my parents fighting. I always got dragged into my parent's fights, never my sister, just me. I don't know why, I never really was a normal or good daughter, that's probably the main contribution. Oh, I'm confused, but the main point is that I'm shallow-happy lately. It's the chain drinking energy drinks that keep me awake, hyper and happy. But then they wear off and the two hours sleep shows under my eyes and my mind spirals into a room with no lights on, and I become anti-social. It's how I used to be.. And then I thought it was gone, but clearly not if it's happening now. Doesn't help that I overthink, doesn't help that my family is in serious financial crisis, doesn't help that my confidence fell apart at the seams, doesn't help that people slag me off everyday. I really and truly have no clue what I'm supposed to do from here.

I've got my friends, they don't know I'm feeling down, but they support me subconsciously none the less. When I'm with them, I easily forget where I really am, how I really am. Even if I do make a show of myself, at least I'm distracted. At this exact moment, my head is pounding, my back is aching, and my eyesight is blurred from staring at the lightbulbs up above my head. I'm trying so hard to actually clear my mind. Swishy trees outside, typical Irish images. Dayum, this blog post is lame as fuck. GRRRR. I just don't know anymore, why the fuck am I not happy?!

You guys, if you think you can distract me, add me on msn:
lkbennett@live.com

I really need people to talk to and see if I can find out what's wrong with my bloody mind without stressing out my parents more or annoying my friends with my childish endearments.


Lucy signing out.

UPDATE KINDA.

Heeyyyy.
I kinda abandoned the blog for a whiles.
O:
'Cus I'm a bad pimp.
Ermmmmm, first I would like to start this post with an apology, sorry for not writing, and a statement to Guest9somethingsomethingsomethingsomething that yes, my blog is crap, why did you read it then? All I gotta say is peace out, girl scout. Your face sucks. (:

Also, my blog finally came to something in the reaal world!
It got me a boyfriend who isn't assfaced like the other douches I went out with.
WOOOO GO BLOG. You may have realized that my punctuation in this is crappy and teenaged but I drank waaaay too muchos Relentless today and I am teenaged so chyeeaaah. Well, erm, you guys will probably call me a hoe. But 4 boyfriends in 2 months, imho, boo yah. Don't get me wrong, I respect 'em all individually but I can't help but be proud because erm I became something. A hoe. (:


O: No other news other than that. Saw HP6... not as great as expected.
TTYL.
THIS WAS SHORT UPDATE.
Slatahs.
XOXO

Pottery Glory.

Guess whose back, back, back?
Back again....


Heylo. T'is Lucy. *waves*
I'm back home from Londonnnnnnn, flight home yesterday. T'was boiiiilinggggg in England, my make up melted off before I was on the bloody plane. So, I've decided to make a tiny summary thingy to just update yas on like... right now. Because the present is a present.

Time: 11.00am exactly. O.o
Activities: Blogging, here, and watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. And texting Kate and eating a biscuit thingy from McVities.
Sounds: My sister typing, Me coughing and dramatic Harry Potter musics.
Closest painting: A cat sitting in a garden of poppies and daisies done using coconut hairs. XD
Closest human: My sister.... she's 11 but she's so damn cute. LMAO.
Wearing: Just a neon pink bra, grey knickers and a stripy navy and blue dressing gown with pink trim.
Latest favourite quote: 'You're not going mad, I can see them too' - Luna Lovegood.
Smells: Fresh air and my feet. Hahaa.
Currently hating on: Professor Delores Umbridge.... -.- Fucking hoe.

Overall, London was pretty awesome, if hasty and hot. Dad was incredibly volatile for the whole trip, like.... a volcano. Like he was baking soda and someone poured vinegar on him. He took it out on me the whole time, and yeah, I'm a brat, a goddamn one at that, but like... christttttttttttt, I started crying in a restaurant when he told me he never met someone as big a disappointment to the phrase 'human'. I was like... man. You might aswell pour salt in my eyes and not expect me to blubber. But London was packed with great experiences anyway... likeeee... Madame Tussauds and Camden Market and Whiteleys and... erm.... awesome English Starbucksness. Oh chyeeaaaahhh and that hot emo guy I saw on the streets and when he walked past, I managed to accidentally trip myself up when I wasn't even walking. I was like FML BITCH. I also began reading Angels and Demons by Dan Brown, the sequel to the Da Vinci Code. It's purdy awesome, because I'm big into conspiracies and cryptology. It also talked about a Bernini sculpture called the Ecstasy of St. Teresa. The passage that the sculpture is inspired by is from a book written by the said saint, and if you read it in the wikipage, it sounds pretty... kinky. In Brown's book, it talks about the sculpture as a work of art of sexually explicit nature, it says... and I quote that the sculpture showed St. Teresa 'in the throes of a toe-curling orgasm' from the angel. And after reading the passage... it sounds like it. XD I don't know, I linked up there for you guys to judge for yourself. ROFLMAO and the sculpture is placed within the Vatican City.

I really don't got much else to say TBH. Which is surprising, but like.... erm. Yeah. Peace out. Link to the Harry Potter lexicon, I'm in a Rowling mood.

LUCYYYYYYYY
XOXO
ILY

Post From Londonnnnnn #2

Heylooooo, my homeys. (:
I'm still in Lundunnnnnnn. :P
Camden today, not yesterday, my bayubs.
Billy Elliot last night, sparkly extravagant bollocks.... I loved it. LMAO.
There was a scene near the end when he writes a letter to his dead mother and I almost cried, I like.... bit my lip and was like 'Don't cry, be strong'. Funnyness.
I went Madame Tussaaauuuudsssss.... the queue is 2 hours long so it wasn't really worth it. On the plus side, pictures with Obama, Audrey Hepburn, Britney, Amy Winehouse and a crappy looking Michael Jackson. The Scream exhibit was awesommeeeee though, it said nobody under 12 and nobody with epilepsy or high blood pressure and I was wondering why so then me and mom did it and it was like O: 'cause actor thingies popped out at every corner and followed you around and growled but they were generally scaryyyy like and there was puffs of smoke and sirens and wax figurines of people being hung and Vlad the Impaler and shrunken heads.... frickin' awesommeeeeeeeeeee.

Well, I gotta go find my sister so we can go market trekkking.
ILY
LUCYYYYYYYYY

Lundunnnn Blog Numero Uno.

Helloooo.
'Tis Lucy, posting from le grande land of fish and chips.
England. London, to be precise. The hotel's club lounge has a shitty keyboard so this will undoubtedly be effing short. To be honest, on the plane, I kept thinking of Final Destination. It put me off soooo much, like, whenever a tiny bit of turbulence erected (kinkyyy) I'd jump a metre outta my seat. We arrived safe and sound though and then got a trainnnn to Liverpool St. from Stansted and then the underground to where we're staying. S'like yaaaaaaaaaaay. We searched all the retro thrift stores around here, there are seriously tonnes, like one of every three shops is a retro store. Some of it was radddddd but I'm too poor to afford it, and my mom wouldn't let me get the choker with the metal spikes along it because she said it would injure someone. Phuck you, Mom. /Karma. Then I went to this little boutique thing that Alesha Dixon shopped in and got these adorable black socks with tiny red bows along the back and they go just above my knees but when I was trying them on in the hotel, one of the cute bows fell off /facepalm. We went to another teeny boutique and got this nautical themed dress thingy and it looks so cute on me (: (wearing it as I type). Then we walked for hours and ate, although I would've easily settled for one of the various KFC's. My dad was cranky allllll day and took it out on me, so that ruined everything. I mean, it wasn't just little things, he just lashed out with truthful/hurtful things and then praised my sister. I was like... boo you, whore. So todaaay, I think we're going Camden market and then Billy Elliot laters. In my purrrrdy dress. (:


TTYL LOSSSEEEEERRRRRRSSSSS.
LUCY XOX