Indie 'till the end

Shitbuzz, whilst cycling home from work just when I was getting smug about it and wondering why I ever got the bus I find myself lying on the ground cursing the day someone put a curb there. In a touching metaphor for life I clambered right back up, brushed it off and cycled home. However, when 3 days later the arm still won't straighten concerned family members decided it's perhaps time to get it checked out (mostly due to previous history of broken bones left to reset incorrectly..hem).

However, when lumbered with a standard grade white sling I decide this simply will not stand. Like any blogger worth their salt quickly slapped a sweet silk scarf on over it (with some help from a kindly first aid trained technician) et voila, statement injury wear for the 21st century girl about town.

Also, not to brag but getting it signed by Zach Condon'll also do the trick.

Nah, I am bragging. He's preeeetty.

Sooooo

Hotly anticipated and although a bittova anticlimax cos I arrive into work bright eyed and bushy tailed to see the new make up that they've been pushing for the past month and I spy a puny stand hidden away in the basement. Anyways, finally got a proper look after my shift finished and had an aul play (filths) with all the lovely things. First impressions? Mega cheap and not in a bad way. Like, I got a crayon-thing that's pretty much a dead ringer for MAC shadesticks for something like €7.50 (cos the topshop discount applies to the makeup, niiiice) and the pigmentation on it is amazing (see in in action here). Lovely proper gold, and I'm a firm believer in the 'it's difficult to fuck up gold and shit-tons of black eyeliner' on the eyes front. Skilled at maquillage I am not, but this seems to have been working out ok for me. Anyway, I think the strong point here is the coloured stuff as the tinted moisturiser felt kinda nasty and although I've not trialled it yet myself I remain suspicious of the mascara. Also excited to try the powder highlighter cos if it works like I hope it'll be kinda like a powdery version of Benefit's highbeam which, obvi, I love but doesn't always blend so good over my powdery top layer of make up.

I love when we get new canvas bags

In other news I seem to have in my possession a pair of hareem pants. I'm not sure how this happened, whether it's purely a result of being surrounded by them for 3 months solid or if they are, in fact, actually nice? I'll trial them and see how many catcalls I get on the way to school, always a joy when cycling to the library.

To borrow a turn of phrase..

..it's like rock'n'roll porn. This has cemented the fact that macroeconomics and I are not to repair our fractious relationship tonight (or, for that matter, tomorrow in the test) but I digress. This website is amazing! Basically has a shitload of epic photos of better people than you during better times than now doing cooler things than you'll ever do. And looking better doing it than you ever will. S'cool though, you can just bask. Serious time stealer.

Dude looks like a monkey.

All photees from here, visit at the expense of whatever you're meant to actually be doing.

In other news, Dylan? Birrova style icon with the 'bans, cuban boots, skinny jeans, epic shirts and obvi giant hair is always a winner. p.s. I love you

I said God Damn! God Damn...

It seems I bought rather a lot of things, and there I thought I'd lost my mojo. Self imposed ban on the consumerist frenzy is in order I feel. Check the Sgt Pepper Jacket! Also, it's only my burdee dress in the pile too. Like a game b'cept in games I'm not bankrupt...

In London news, those free papers have subsided so, I dunno about how bad you felt for the paper-hander-outters but, I can now make it down Oxford Street without ending up with at least seven of the same rag. Also, it seems every second lady has a Mulberry and I even spotted an Alexa at the Portobello Market on this wealthy Italian babe. Bitch. And shamefacedly made my way over to a market stall and bought my notsevenhundredsquids poor substitute..which is still awesome, just not THE bag. Fuuuck I wanna go back.

P.S Grizzly Bear were fucking AMAZING. See them live afore you die, thank me after.

So I went to France...

...and have left Jade's autobiography behind. Sorry. You'll have to wait until I get it back in a few weeks. All I can remember from some of the gems which I have so far found is that once Jade received a letter from a guy in prison threatening her boyfriend (who cheated on her and got caught loads). Anyways,  Jade received the letter even though the prisoner had addressed it to 'Jade Goody, Big Brother, Essex.' Fair play to the royal mail.

My holiday was working on a farm in France with a chum from France. You work, they pay you in accommodation, food, and, as was the case where I went, weed.  We stayed with the family (mam, dad, son) in a filthy big chateau near Toulouse. I've never seen someone more stoned in my entire life than the son. He was stoned constantly: driving a tracter? Fuck it, I'll have a joint first. Making some dinner? Fuck it, lets have a joint. Waking up to begin working on the gardens? Fuck it, lets...well, you get the picture. I'm pretty sure I don't know what his actual personality was like, but it's OK cos he was pretty sound while baked.

The mother though, was a bit of a bitch. She gave out to me for pouring out a bottle of undrank tap water. Even though they have a motherfucking pool. She said 'what has that water ever done to you?' Well obviously nothing you fucking hypocrite, come back to me when you stop wasting water on a fucking pool in an area of projected future water stress and living in a house which costs thousands of Euro to heat during the winter and traveling around the world on big fuck off airplanes so you can sell paintings and shit. I'm pretty sure that the son was stoned primarily because it's the only way you could possibly ignore his mam, who just didn't shut the fuck up talking in her shit shrill accent. And you don't know shit about economics, so shut the fuck up about that too, bitch.

Still though, it was excellent. I recommend it. But be careful, the guy I went with moved to another farm. He left there after 2 days because the people were insane Socialists who believed that there was a special place you could go to where you'd find truth, or something.

In Memory

She learnt her Spanish off a failed South American dictator, she dances to her own beat, her own sleazy beat, she hearts iceberg lettuce and plain chicken, she's a bit of a glamazon, she really loves travel and foreign holidays but has none of that shit of mixing with the native or trying the local cuisine-its Yorkshire puddings all the way, she was gagging for it at Trinzer Ball, she thinks dogs should be allowed to embrace their femininity, when she was younger she thought she would go blind if she looked up, she demanded for this and she's a bit sweet and lovely really