This Five Day Week Deal is Tough Shit, My Friends (I haven’t done this since March)

Unless something very drastic and/or exciting happens in the next couple of weeks, this is going to be my last wordy blog in a while, for a couple of reasons: first, I have some exams coming up at school, and I’m told they’re a big deal… I’ve decided to revise for them, anyway (cue applause). Secondly, I seem to have botched my wrist from typing, writing and hitting the arrow keys on the keyboard incessantly.

I’m not in grave danger, but lifting a mug of coffee has started to feel like something I’d rather not do with my right hand. So until I’m ambidextrous and not being told A*s aren’t good enough, you can expect a lot of this in the coming weeks:

You’re welcome.

And yes, that is Show Pony, aka Ricky Rebel.

Is it just me, or does that girl look like Miley Cyrus?!

I’m really glad Jimmy couldn’t skate and was a Draculoid instead.

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Look, I’m Creative!

  Guys! Shameless plugging time!

  I’ve finally got off my arse and written a ‘poem’. I know virtually nothing about poetry or love, so I have no idea how I ended up with a poem in the ‘love’ category of FictionPress…

  Anyway, here is Musical Instruments.

  It’s strange, I’ve been telling myself for ages to get up and write something that isn’t about my life, and then I’m sitting in my grandparents’ house feeling a bit depressed and bam! We have inspiration.

  Saying that, I’d rather not have a poem and feel totally normal… Possibly. Maybe. I actually have no idea. Let’s hear it for confusion!

  Please, please, please, read and review. I will love you forever. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a member of FictionPress, you can just put your name in the box with a few words about my amazing poetry skills.

  Should I stick to haikus????

My Fate Is In Your Hands… Don’t Drop It.

  I have caught the sun on my shoulders, arms, chest and back.

  Yes, ‘catching the sun’ does mean sunburn. I’m pretty dark so I always forget, when the sun comes out, that I need sun cream. Now it’s painful to wear a rucksack.

  The reason I got so, ahem, tanned, was that I partook (is that even a word?! WP says yes it is) in the Race for Life yesterday. I have no pictures as they were all on other people’s cameras (hint, hint), and I didn’t think you’d fancy seeing my blackened-by-Primark-socks, sweaty feet. Isobel and I did it with our trainers in our hands, by the way. We looked awesome, her in Lauren’s shirt, me in pink tartan shorts, which, I assure you, Lyn-Z Way would buy if she ever decided to kick in the skirts. Happy birthday, by the way, Lyn-Z. I hope Bandit and Gerard got you something that wasn’t fished out of Gerard’s touring suitcase.

  Anyway, the real reason I’m typing this out when I could be watching Doctor Who is that I am stuck for something to write. It may seem that I never run out of things to say on here, thanks to my dulcet tones, but since I finished Ella’s Blog nothing remotely creative has hit me in the face. I’m sorry, Ellen, but that story about our mothers and an ash cloud just won’t work; I can’t do funny on demand. I just do it when I’m not supposed to… So, dear readers (I’m pretty sure there’s more than one of you) I challenge you to challenge me. Comment with your ideas, or a phrase or song lyric, and I promise a story – or at least a one-shot or poem- will come out of it. It might take a while, but I will.

  However, there are rules:

  • Nothing that involves real people, unless they say I’m allowed to. MCR-related stuff freaked me out, if I’m honest. Although I will kill Lady Gaga and/or Wayne Rooney. Politicians are also subject to change.
  • No gay sex. I tried my hand at that with MCR and quite frankly my hand did not like it.
  • Cert 15. For the time being, at least.
  • It must be in English. I did a German exam today, and my writing attempt was pitiful.

  Get going. You will have a cameo (if you want) or a dedication. I might kiss you.

PS Please donate to Race for Life. The widget is on the sidebar. Thank you.