I Have Nothing To Say.

In the spirit of having nothing to say but enjoying the sound of my typing anyway, I think I’ll liveblog my day. It will be hideously boring because I intend on remaining fairly idle but you never know what might happen, this could go down in l’histoire.

Incidentally, a really bad habit I have is speaking English but sprinkling in a few random French words. I  used to be quite fluent in the language when I was teenager and it’s not out of habit or anything, it’s just because I’m an annoying cock. Je suis désolée mais je ne regrette rien! (I’m totally listening to Edith Piaf.)

1:15PM – I’m watching an episode from season 3 Sex and the City. I will never deny my love for this show nor will I stop thinking “I’M SUCH A CARRIE!” no matter how much people tease me. I will say this though – and it’s controversial – but I don’t like Jimmy Choo. Nope, not a fan. It’s like stepping into bricks of solidified vomit.

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Online Dating.

Two of my favourite things are reading personals and mocking people. If I get the paper, I always dash to the adds at the back to see which lonely chap with a GSOH is seeking a trans woman for fun times. I persuaded (made) my old housemate start internet dating; this was only 12% because I wanted his romantic life to be prosperous and exciting for him, but 88% because I wanted to write his profile for him and scour the place for suitable laydeez.

Voyeuristic to the core, I’m really interested in how people project themselves online. I think it takes a lot of skill not to sound retarded or mental. The lucky few come out of the profile writing process by sounding well-balanced and interesting but the rest you have to choose from are the painfully generic types who “like going out or staying in, music, films, hobbies of all sorts” or the overly pushy but probably really insecure types that “don’t want to hear from overweight people, please have a university degree, I vote LibDem and so must you. Also, if you’ve had more than 3 sexual partners I will think you’re SKANKY WHORE so please don’t write to me SLUT.”

As it happens, I only have eyes for my handsome boyfriend (hi, my lobster!) and all of my friends seem to be busy getting married or squeezing out humans, so I’ve no need to scour the personals like a lonely Jennifer Anniston crying into a mug of vodka for anybody. Occasionally, personals just seem to fall into my lap by way of being advertised or routinely laughed at on blogs I read. See here.  This Julian Assange dating profile is also quite interesting (ooh! Topical! And regardless of how much I support him at the moment, HOLY HELL, he sounds like a plank.”) ALSO THIS. YOU HAVE TO READ THIS. Definitely followed by this.

So, yeah, sometimes people don’t stand out as completely stable and that’s what I love. I don’t hate on anybody whatsoever who actively seeks love on the internet because it can work. Meeting somebody on the internet leads to one of four things; a terrible dinner date that’s cut short by a fake emergency, mediocre sex, falling hopelessly and deeply in love or getting murdered. Life’s all about taking chances. Having said that, I will totally laugh in the virtual face of profiles that make me cringe, but then one lady’s trash is another’s wank material. Swings and roundabouts.

While I’m waiting for my friend to come over and make me feel less like I’m about to die of whatever it is I’ve picked up on the mean streets of South London (not HIV), let’s meet someone.

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Twitter-related Rant.

I like Twitter.

My Twitter feed is full of interesting and amusing people who make me laugh, teach me something or – most importantly – laugh at what I have to say. It’s a great way to waste time and an even better way for me to find out which celebrity has died before phoning my Mum to tell her. She’s all “really, how did you know?” Then I’m all, “I’m psychic” but she’s like “no, really, how did you know?” to which I restate “I’m psychic” and she’s a bit like “really?” and I say “yes” and then it’s a bit silent for a while before we talk about Coronation Street. I digress.

Sometimes, I venture outside of my cocoon of reasonably amusing people to The Dark Side. This happens for one of two reasons.

1) I click on a hashtag to see if I can amuse myself. These will be things like #WhatMaBabyMamaSays or #BlackBwoisAre and will end with things like “*kisses teeth* sort yo bump n grind out boi LOL” and “all about the pussayyyyyy AINT I RIGHT LATEHSA” and so I exit while silently judging people I don’t know and decide to make a sandwich instead, or something.

2) Because I’ve tweeted words like cock, fanny, twat, hot or desperate – not necessarily in a sexual manner – and get an instant add/@reply from a delightful young gentleman asking if I want a little summinsummin’. (NB: No. I don’t. Ever.) I’ll click through and their profile is always just full of @replies to pornstars and celebrities asking to see tits. Speaking of which, I came across this today – a gentleman giving out his Blackberry pin and asking women to add him over and over again, but with this sandwiched in the middle. Oh! It made me guffaw, for some reason:


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ATTN: Single Ladies

One thing that I am wholeheartedly unashamed about is just how much of a fan of romance I am. I will see Katherine Heigl and Jennifer Anniston movies on opening weekend, I will read novels that include phrases such as “my loins were warm with my lust for her” and “I knew she was the one when we both reached for the same tomato purée tube in Sainsbury’s”, I will take an active interest in the love lives of everybody I know and a few people I don’t, I may have already planned almost every detail of my wedding (I’m not yet engaged), and there is nobody alive who “AWWW”s louder than I do when I see a couple of OAPs hobbling around hand in hand.

There are very few times when I’ll mock somebody for being a brave enough person to put themselves out there and make the first move when they are interested in a person, no matter how cringeworthy they come across, but I’m about to. I don’t even need to say anything really (but I will, obviously) as this audio says it all for me.


Enticing, amirite? No, no. Not at all. I laughed, I gasped, I exclaimed and I cut myself a bit.

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