Anal beads for everyone!
“Oh, Allie. Sometimes I really worry about you,” my housemate said as I sat down to watch a documentary on Philip Haynes Markoff – a chap, nicknamed The Craigslist Killer, whom at the tender age of 23 was charged with armed robbery, kidnap and murder following incidents with women he had met from can-you-guess-what-website in America.
“Don’t be silly, I’m not getting tips” I chuckled, polishing my knife collection and scanning around the room for my pen and paper.
That was not the first, or indeed last, time a person had made a flippant comment about my interest in crime documentaries. I would just like to go on record as saying I’m not a murderer. I was jumped by a couple of girls and their boyfriends once but I threw a punch which completely missed any body surface of any of my opponents and I ended up taking a battering and spending a few hours in hospital getting my face prodded and x-rayed.
I’m a swearer and a shouter but I’m not a violent person. To harm another person is something so far out of the realm of my comprehension that I’m interested in people to which this comes so easily. My boyfriend is much the same; in the early days between us, I remember him commenting on my knowledge of a particular serial killer and thus our bond was cemented.
In light of Stephen Griffiths being charged with the murder of three missing women from Bradford this week, I’ve noticed a few things cropping up around the interwebz about his love of studying criminology, obsession with documenting his take on various serials killers and, as seen on the The Sun website, his penchant for swallowing live rats.
That got me to-a thinking about my interests that I have which could be seen in an incriminating light.
1) I studied law at university and I really like CSI:NY, ergo; I can commit a crime, immaculately clean the scene and get out of any awkward line of questionning with legal loopholes if need be.
2) The non-fiction part of my book collection is largely made up of crime writing, books on psychotherapy, dumbed down forensics guides and masses of criminal law textbooks. This makes me mental. And a bit boring.
3) I couldn’t sleep last night and went to read the Eyes For Lies blog. This is by a human lie-detector who comments on unresolved criminal cases and the odd celebrity scandal from around the globe. This means I’m getting tips.
4) I like music with guitars in. This means I’m angsty and wild.
4a) I also quite like music with banjos in, so that reduces my Satanic side considerably.
I can’t think of anything else but I’m sure something will pop up. Either before or after the bodies of my schoolmates are found.
HA HA HA. Joke.
I’ll put my hands up; I was a right nerd when I was a teenager. I went from a Ja Rule loving loser at 13 to an emo poet at 15. Which is, basically, just me becoming a bigger loser.
You know the trend with big, black-rimmed geek glasses? Yeah, I was way ahead of that. Except, back in the day, I couldn’t really find any so I’d use prescription glasses and just poke out the lenses. I lost count of the amount of times my brother just used to come up and flick me in the eye. Dick.
I took photos for MySpace from one angle (still sort of guilty on that, I only have one good side) and would buy Terror CDs hoping to impress people even though.. well, have you heard Terror? It really is Terror(able!)
I used to have a Power Rangers backpack and stationary set (AT COLLEGE!) because I thought I was commenting ironically on popular culture but I was probably just looking like a twat.
I also used to stalk boys in bands and try to get them to love me because I thought my tortured soul could only be appreciated by a musician. In short, I was a total whiney bint but that’s teenagers for you. They do some weird stuff. They wear shitty make up, scowl at old people and create words I don’t understand. Being a wanker is all part of growing up.
However, there’s being a wanker and then there’s being a total wanker:
Somone give these kids some face wipes, take away their Twilight DVDs and Nightwish CDs and then explain how, probably in about six months time when they decide shopping in Hot Topic is lame, that twat is going to really regret being asked to be called Wolfie Blackheart on film. Speaking of Wolfie, the guy is 18. And what was that about the dog skull? He’s going to be such a serial killer when he’s older which is lame because I’d be so embarrassed if he got the better of me in a struggle.
Pardon? Waah, waah, waah, they’re not hurting anyone? THEY’RE HURTING MY EYES. And my view of the future. And my ears: At 3:00 – “I don’t believe anyone is just human, everyone has got something else mixed in with them, they just have to actually look inside themselves and find out what it is.” Ugh. Not only is that stupid, it’s just plain wrong.
Like everyone with a brain, a conscience and an ounce of compassion, I feel very strongly about Roman Cunty Child Rapist Cunt Polanski eventually having to face prosecution.
I’m completely baffled as to why anyone would come out in support for this CHILD RAPIST.
Here’s another arsehole being an arsehole:
This would be French director Xavier Beauvois posing with a t-shirt in support for a man who plied a child with enough alcohol and particular type of drug as to make her almost incapable of resisting as he, a shit 30 years her senior, proceeded to rape and sodomize her.
The Pianist is a good film, but it’s not that fucking good.
I am so ready for a change of style; I’m Little Miss Skinny Jeans Or Vintage Dresses. New season, new wardrobe. But where shall I get my inspiration? Vogue? Meh. Pop stars? Meh. Movies? Hmm. TV? Yes!
It’s coming up to summer so maybe I should get some vests to keep cool in; but then, what if I suddenly need to go somewhere formal? I should get a tie. It gets a bit chilly in the evenings though so I’ll probably have to pick up some gloves… Oh, hang on – ARM WARMERS? No, too wintery. Fishnet arm warmers? Excellent. I’m a little bit wacky too, so I’ll probably get some red shoe laces to put in my trainers so people that pass me on the street can see my personality on my feet.
If only I could see someone on TV with the same sort of style, then I’d get a feeling of what I’ll look like….