Well, This Has Been an Interesting Day Off.

“Don’t let her marry a Greek, will you?”

These are the wise words offered to my dad by my nan, about me, just as Will and Kate got married. At least, I think it was. I did rather have trouble paying attention after a while. Although the Archbishop – NOT THE POPE, ISOBEL, NOT THE POPE – and his crew were quite funny to watch, especially when the Archbishop stuck his hat back on. Harry is also hilarious, don’t you think? I was waiting for him to start pulling the moves ‘he’ did on the T-Mobile advert.

Also, Eugenie looked a bit like a moose in her hat. Sorry, love. Wear a better one at Harry and Pippa’s wedding, yeah?

Anyway, enough with all this wishy-washy wedding lark, on to some serious shit. In fact, it is so serious, I have to capitalise it: Serious Shit. This blog is called Indifferent Ignorance, but unless I’m discussing school, I don’t often get to talk about people with true indifferent ignorance. However, today I have found one. His name is Glenn Beck and I have to say, I agree with Frank. Of course SING is full of propaganda aimed at today’s youth, Mr. Beck. Next time you bash My Chemical Romance, get their fucking lyrics right. The same song hasn’t raised a load of money for the people of Japan, or anything. The band isn’t credited with saving lives or having one of the strongest and most loyal fanbases in the music industry. My Chem, obviously, are trying to form a cult and zap our brains.

Dude, you are four years too late, the Daily Mail got there first (hell yes, today is all about Britain).

Talking of Frank, here is a transcript of a conversation from today:

Me [to Isobel]: How’re Frank and Pansy?

Isobel: They’re good thanks. I need to clean them out.

Elizabeth [to no one in particular]: What?

Frank and Pansy, for those of you who don’t know, are Isobel’s pet fish. Frank, obviously, is named after me. Sadly, whenever I brought this up today, I got threatened with goat testicles.

Yes, you did read that right. My dad and brother went to Greece for ten days this easter, and as well as bringing back to usual olive oil, feta cheese and weird sweets (which I would have been perfectly happy with, efharisto) they also brought home a pair of goat testicles. They are so gross I can’t even bring myself to touch them, so Isobel’s new favourite threat is, “Be nice, Frank, or we’ll get the testicles out.”

The girls played catch with them. Arghhhh.

Mum handing me the testicles and then telling me what they are wasn’t the biggest surprise of the day, however. It turns out that I laugh like Janice in Friends.

Janice.

Oh my God (damn, I’m doing it again). I can never laugh again. Ever.

EVER.

Apparently I do a little dance as well.

EVER.

By the way, I really hope Will and Kate dress any new little royals in this. I mean, I’m tempted to have kids just to dress them in MCR merch, so…

**UPDATE** 01/05/11

It turns out Gerard agrees with Frank and I too.

I Am Productive and Shall Prove It: Part 2

On with the show.

Francesca’s Best Artwork on Photoshop*

  Inspired by this:

*Actually, the only thing I’ve made on Photoshop this holiday.

New Experience I Should Have Tried Ages Ago: #MCRChat

Invented by Cassie Whitt, and completely crazy.

Best Amateur Video/Community Effort: Newcastle MCRmy

Anyone in Essex fancy going doing a Killjoy meetup this year?!

Most Expensive Consumer Product and Its Effect on the Consumer: Fudge Paintbox Blue Velvet Hair Dye

  75ml cost something like £9.16 (I threw away the receipt once I used it, in disgust). When Mum and I redid my stripe, we left the dye in a bit long because I sat in the garden reading Russel Brand’s first autobiography with no timer and lost track of time. Because of the foils and amount of dye used, I got an electric blue bit near my scalp and turquoise at the tips. There’s also blonde from the bleach and my normal brown up top, so I had a four-tone streak of hair! This probably doesn’t excite you as much as it does me, and the sun’s since faded the whole lot lighter so there’s no evidence, but for a few days I was living my version of the eighties.

Most Guilty Pleasure-y Bedtime Reading: the Unholy Series, by Bexless

As a person, I cannot condone writing about real people as characters, especially if you’ve never met them. As writer, I say hell yeah to anything that expands your knowledge and skills in the field. I’m really sorry, guys, but this series is the best piece of fiction I’ve read in months. Possibly the best fan fiction I’ve ever come across. If I didn’t know it was based on the members of My Chemical Romance, I wouldn’t have realised reading it, which is how some fan fics work best – the story tells itself. Maximise the screen to reduce eyestrain, the text is tiny, and if you’re homophobic or Catholic-phobic (there’s probably a long word for that somewhere), avoid at all costs.

Shameless plug on end of blog: if you want to read my Heaven Help Us, click here. And review.

I Am Productive and Shall Prove It: Part 1

It’s nearly time to return to our separate institutions of hell, in order to gain qualifications that will become irrelevant as soon as a new exam board is introduced, denouncing us all uneducated. However, the Easter holiday (or spring break, as I know some politically correct people like to call it) isn’t over yet. There is still time for me to bore you with a list of ‘top’ things I have encountered over the past fortnight.

Best Headline, courtesy of the Daily Mail

  I can’t actually remember the rest of the headline, and I didn’t read the story since it would contain 0.001% fact, but I’m pretty sure that if Dr. D had killed himself, Steve would have posted it on Twitter.

Most Pain Felt in the Space of Five Minutes

  Me, getting a second ear-piercing. This was the third time I’ve had a needle stuck through my ear lobes, and my palms still sweated. My excuse is my abysmally low pain threshold, but I suspect the slang term is ‘pansy’.

  I swear to you, two weeks ago my ear was this colour.

Most Unfair Easter Present

  Maxim won ten pounds on a lottery ticket my aunt gave him. Easter is supposed to be about Jesus getting killed and then coming back all God-like, not gambling! No surprise my mum started the trend last year, then…

Stupidest Saturday Night Game

  If a My Chem song got in the top three of Kerrang! Rock 100, I got £10. If they didn’t, Maxim did. Black Parade got four and Not Okay two, so we called it quits – but we watched Doctor Who in between songs four and two, when I tried to bet £15 that Not Okay or Na Na would be number one. I must have some good karma hanging around, because Maxim refused.

Best Question Reply: Mikey Way

“I would call us rock and roll. Some people would dispute that, and those people are wrong.”

 Part 2 will be posted just as soon as I’ve worked out how to turn a Twitter conversation the right way up.

Want to Be a Rockstar? Wear Your Sunglasses In the Toilet Cubicle.

I’m currently on MSN with Isobel, and she told me I have no email because I’m simply not cool, because I don’t wear Primark Ray Bans into toilets, like she does (this makes her a rockstar).

I was going to reply, “I am a rockstar, I’m watching the TV with the sound turned down!” But then I looked at the screen, realised Planetary was playing and turned it up. Then, as I was telling Isobel this, it ended. So I rewound.

Here are Indifferent Ignorance’s resident rockstars, Bel and Frank:

  As the photo uploaded I rewound Planetary. This is fun.

  That’s the third time… Or fourth.

  I feel slightly weird about the whole thing when I was up until half one last night reading the sequels to Unholy.

HEY BABY I WROTE YOU A POEM; an Email by Ruby.

From: Ruby

To: Francesca

Subject: HEY BABY, I WROTE YOU A POEM

Date: Fri, 15 Apr 2011 18:27:29 +0100

O! Fair Frank, why has of late your fair correspondence not graced my humble inbox?

Will, perhaps, a sonnet written in your name suit to make the communication that was once abundant between us flow readily once more? Sincerely, I hope that this may be:

O! FRANK THOU ART BUT A STICK;

A STICK OF A ROSE

WITH THORNS ON

WHICH IF I PICKED IT UP WOULD HURT ME GREATLY

BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT (geddit?)

O! IF I WERE A PIGEON I WOULD ENDEAVOUR

TO NOT CRAP UPON YOUR HOUSE

INSTEAD AIMING FOR THAT OF MS AGAR’S

HOPING THAT MY FERTILE POO

WOULD GO ON TO GROW ANOTHER ROSE LIKE YOU

Forthwith I hope that the silence between us will blossom again with the coming of spring into the high brow conversations about matters of great importance which we used to share. And to that note I shall breeze onto the next subject:

My mother and I were In Westcliff earlier today when we happened upon a charity shop which had sprung up for a limited period of two weeks only. And we went in. Because we’re both somewhat partial to charity shops.

Well, against the back wall they had piles of sewing materials, and I went all ‘FLAGLAARGHRAFFFFthereyougotakemypurseitsmine’.

And I bought some fabric.

Plaid fabric.

Brightly coloured plaid fabric.

Yellow, purple and turquoise plaid fabric.

I don’t think I’m communicating its full monstrosity to you effectively. Here, have a picture to help:

There’s also quite a bit of it. Now, it said on the Post-it note attached to it that it was three and a half yards by 60 inches, but I’m not all that good at old measures and hence somewhat underestimated how big it would be and I’ll assume that you will have too, thus I think another picture is in order:

(and yeah, sorry about their quality. They both looked a lot better before I ran them through Paint. But you know, some times Paint’s all you feel up to)

SO. I now have a shitload of even-the-eighties-would-be-horrified-at-it fabric, and I’m not really sure what to do with it.

And that’s where you come in. Any ideas?

My mum said I should make a blazer and skirt and rock it out with a pair of DMs, but that’s pushing even my sense of fashion a bit too far. She later changed her mind and said she wanted to use it as a table-cloth (RETINA BURN WHILE YOU EAT).

Personally I was thinking along the lines of some kind of bag, but hey.

ALSO ALSO ALSO, it’s nearly chocolate easter egg time! (or, as I read somewhere, ‘spring spheres’)

  Well, you heard the girl. I suggested a Killjoy outfit, but I know a few of you do Textiles, so…?

#SINGItForJapan

I was going to talk about t-shirts printing the wrong colour and needles being poked through ears, but then I logged on to Twitter and saw this:

I really have nothing to add. I don’t even want to talk at the people who call the MCRmy a cult… Because this video speaks for itself.

Jesus Died when He was 33, So Gerard’s Good Until 80.

I suppose I can’t call myself an MCR fan and let 9th April pass unnoticed. So happy 34th birthday Gerard Way!  I just went on Google to find a stupid and/or funny photo of Gerard to put here, but I couldn’t decide – so you can. Or you can look at his face for three minutes twelve times instead, yeah?

 

Ain’t they pretty.

Also, is it just me or does Gerard look half his age and act half that? According to my calculator, that’s seventeen and eight-and-a-half…

I Can’t Actually Remember What I Look Like Without Hair Product.

Some of you wanted to know what my straight hair looks like:

Today, however, it’s all about the curly hair. For example:

Hahaha, begone, faded blonde-grey hairs! You shall haunt me no more, my hair is blue again! It was done up all fancy because the junior in the shop, Lisa, had her assessor from college come in, and if she set my hair as well as dyed it she could tick another thing off her sheet.

I look like my aunt in the eighties.

I did have a load of stuff to say but I’m too busy rereading this. I’m not usually into My Chem fan fictions – a few of you will remember that a while ago I tried my hand at the heavy stuff and my hand did not like it. I’ll still write parodies, however. I Have Been All Things Unholy isn’t a parody, in fact it’s not even really about My Chem, it’s about Jesus. What makes it so funny is that the characters look and sometimes act like the band…

It’s also the most well-written piece of writing I’ve seen in months.

Update: I would like to say that I am in no way responsible for any nightmares you may now have about any members of My Chem, their tattoos, sex lives, pierced body parts or the Catholic Church.