It’s the Fifth Day of the Summer Holidays, and I’m Already Spamming You With Time-Wasting Videos. You’re Welcome.

**UPDATE**

  Recently, WordPress has been doing this odd thing where parts of my posts have been deleted and not published. Once I hit ‘save draft’ or ‘publish’, the stuff I’ve written that WP has issues with disappears, never to return. So, sadly, I lied about the videos on this post. They all disappeared, along with some text, leaving a huge space. It’s not much compensation, but this blog still contains Mr. Men plasters.

  I will be looking into the problem.

  Actual post:

How has everyone’s holidays been so far? I’ve dyed my hair blue (no, not all of it), been dragged around town buying clothes I don’t need (the day before we went on holiday last year, Mum ransacked my suitcase. I survived then and I shall survive now) and bought miniature water pistols to use as rayguns (I still owe my nan the pound they put her back).

Because this is the expanse that is the summer holidays, I’ve also spent a lot of time in front of the TV and my laptop screen. Here are some of the better things I’ve chanced across:

Oh, I almost forgot: Ruby, too, has been busy:

From: Ruby

To: Frank

I had a dream where you died last night. You had arm cancer and then it spread to your brain and you didn’t come into school for a week and you died. And everyone one was all ‘Oh, Frank was so manly and heroic as she never mentioned her illness’. And I was all ‘That’s a shame, I won’t be able to send her a postcard now’.


So um yeah.

Don’t worry, I assured her I’m alive.

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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…?

This is a Conversation You Won’t Want to Read Unless You Have Visited MCR.com Lately. read from bottom up.

To: Frank

From: Lizzi

Good.
 
I’m getting more and more pissed by the second. I’m seriously disappointed in those guys.
 
I expected them to value our intelligence more.
 
Well, I’ll just carry on imagining you breaking their sexy italian jaws.
 
Mnn….sexy italian jaws…
 
And ripping off their trousers…
 
And breaking their jaws…

 


From:Frank

 

To: Lizzi
Then it is not the apocalypse. We have hope in the gits who saved our lives and taught us to headbang.
 
Whoever replaces Bob is going to have a hard act to follow, that’s all I can think of. Those tossbags.
 
Anyway, go and read my blog in ten minutes’ time. This’ll be on it.

From: Lizzi

To: Frank

I’m sure I love them deep down. 
 
Somewhere.
 
But now all I am feeling is disgust.
 
Ima keep Bob’s face on all of my posters, no matter how tempting it is to scrub them all of, and will do the same as you. Except maybe with that pair of sunglasses that I saw last week….
 


From: Frank

To: Lizzi

I’ma go shove this whole conversation on my blog (which I updated last week by the way :P) and buy a ring to commemorate MCR in town on Saturday.
 
Because being a My Chem fan is like being in a relationship; you gotta trust the arsehole who’s shirt you secretly want to take off, even though they do STUPID and SELF-ABUSIVE and DOWNRIGHT INCOMPREHENSIBLE things like what they just threw at us.
 


From: Lizzi

To: Frank

I am wetting myself. Seriously.
 
I am loving the sexy-italian-jawline-getting-broken-by-Frank’s-fist image.
 
I think we should add in my long-winded conspiracy theory. Followed by ‘but we’re not ones to pass judgement.’ and then the ‘i’ll break your jaws.’ followed by the ‘I am losing faith and I’ve got GCSE’s’ guilt-trip.

 
We are genius.


From: Frank

To: Lizzi

Dear My Chem:
 
I don’t give a crap what goes on in your band. I don’t care if you’ve got flu, or an STD, or if you dyed your hair or if Bandit said her first word.
 
But you owe it to Bob, yourselves and the thousands of people who love you to do more than just drop shit on us out of the blue. Blog more often, if freaking anything. Just TELL US WHY BOB LEFT, HOW GERARD’S VOICE IS, ANY GODDAMN THING ABOUT THE NEW ALBUM. WE DON’T CARE, WE JUST DON’T WANT TO RELY ON KERRANG! FOR NEWS.
 
If you lock us out any more, your sexy Italian jawlines will get broken by my fist. Okay?


From: Lizzi

To: Frank

This is shit.
 
You know what this sounds like?
 
It sounds like you waited until you had finished the album and had no use for Bob until you kicked him out.
It sounds like Gerard’s voice is fine and you were just using it as an excuse not to perform ‘cos you don’t have a drummer.
 
Long-winded conspiracy theory, yes, I know, but I reckon you’re capable of it. I’ve got GCSE modules tomorrow and I’m paranoid and stressed and losing faith.
 
Thanks guys.
 
x