I actually ran Bay to Breakers once.

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

Who Knew Breasts Made For Such Perfect Storage? May 23rd, 2006.

Current mood:excited

What most girls need a handbag for - wallet, phone, inhaler and keys - was stored snuggly around and between the confides of my boobs. Why? Well on Sunday morning feeling groggy and nauseated from only a few hours sleep after working at the bar i realized i couldn't find my little pink reflective running bag thing and shit, today i was running Bay to Breakers.

I was feeling a little worried, i hadn't ran in nearly 2 weeks and the furthest i'd managed was 6 miles and this race was 7.5. Running (actually walking and taking my sweet time) about 20 minutes late i made my way down to the Start line at the San Francisco bay.

Being pretty much still new to this town and never experiencing a Bay to Breakers before i wasn't quite prepared for what i came into contact with.

It was about 8.20am and the streets were jammed with drunkards, fancy dress costumes, food being thrown, portable kegs and bars, bad bands in every bus shelter, an abundance of naked white dimply bottoms and flaccid penises.

As i approached the start line i remembered what my running pack said - walkers to the right, runners to the left - so i start making my way to the left, and to the left, and to the left, and the left and after a whole 3 lane road was full of walking, some stumbling and some shuffling (due to silly physically inhibiting costumes) i get to the side walk which has about 6 runners on it. Hmm is this really what i was worried about being the shittiest runner EVER in for the past 3 months!? Damn, these people are even gonna make me look good.

So off i went, following Howard Street past my alley where my roommate was stood with her trusty camera...

... then up steep ass i'm gonna kill you Hayes Street hill, then along the once stinky hippy saturated Panhandle to the Golden Gate Park. That is one big park. And here i am personifying sex with some naked dude in the background about a mile from the finish line...



If i didn't look like such a sweaty fur-less shar-pai i might have considered ordering this, but alas, the free version with PROOF rather obnoxiously emblazoned across it will do.

So yes one mile to go and me, along with the nudes, are still going strong. I see the pacific peeking through the last - hurrah - trees of the Golden Gate Park and finally i am one the home stretch. Finishing line growing ever closer and the OFFICIAL end to "Healthy May". YAY me. So what next? I am seriously considering the half marathon in the fall. Though i'm even more seriously considering the Taqueria for dinner every day for the next month first.

It's So BIG It's Fluorescent

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

May 29th, 2006.

Current mood:bouncy

No, M.O.T.O weren't singing about my big zit of 2006 but they may as well have been. One of my first "blogs" ever was about 2004s once a year zit. No, I'm not blessed with the skin of a peach, but assholes as big as the fucking bitch that has been in the middle of my right cheek for nearly a week only really show their face once a year, and now my friends, is that special time.

Now this isn't a normal spot - no enjoyable white head to grapple with that upon it's momentous and satisfying pop marks the death of the facial imposer. This is something living off me under the skin. How i have spent, err, too much time actually, trying to pop this thing and picking at it trying to find the source of this fucker. What do i get?! Some blood, some swelling just to accentuate it further (if that is possible), a big really cute scab the next day but any nasty ass goo/spot puss (you get the picture)? NO!

I'm beginning to doubt the identity of this thing. Could i have acquired some form of parasite? Could this be my long lost unformed twin kicking up a stink?! (i watched a documentary about a kid who got his deformed twin brother caught up in his embryo in his mom's womb and it stayed in his belly as a huge lump until he was 6 and then they cut it out, i watched this nearly 2 years ago, it's kind of haunted me...) And this last one is my favourite form of denial - "it's a bite". Whatever it is, i hope it fucks off SOON. I have a wedding to go to on Sunday and the zit is not invited.

Why i'll never eat another chicken nugget (for a few years)

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

July 26th, 2006.

Current mood:drunk

(I'm taking a creative writing class, we had to write about being ill. Not that this is really all that creative, well in parts it is... but all the same i kinda like it. Viva la Gemma)

Mid May 2001, the UK was having a heatwave that is typical of that time of year. After a 16 mile bus ride home from my college in Stratford Upon Avon I was wilted from the heat and my stomach rumbled due to a missed lunch. When the weather was that lovely, a trip down to sit next to the river Avon and buy an ice lolly was way more enjoyable than refectory food.

I swung open the door of our small fridge-freezer, way smaller than anything even allowed onto US soil. I bent down to look in it, taking in it's refreshing chill for a couple of moments and giving zero regard to the energy bill. The open fridge really was quite the pitiful sight. Apart from some pickles, soggy lettuce and moldy cheese, it was empty.

Shoes, handbags, dresses and records i have no problem with but food shopping I find a total chore.

I flip the snap shut door on the ice box at the top of my tiny little fridge. "Ooh!" Thankfully here i have a little more luck. I pull out a bag of frozen mixed vegetables and a bag of chicken nuggets. No, not exactly fine gourmet dining, or actually anything i remotely fancied, but it was food.

I got to cooking my vegetables and the throughly delicious, processed chicken bits. When it was ready it looked so unappetizing i didn't even want it. My head said "urggh" but my stomach didn't say anything but instead churned and moaned. My belly won this debate so i set about eating.

I remember the first bite of one of them nuggets, i recall it tasting somewhat different but not being half as bad as i had anticipated so off they all went to my stomach.

It got to around 8pm and my boyfriend called me like he did every night we weren't together. We talked about how each others days had been, nothing exciting or different to what we had said to each other the day before, or the day before that but what i do remember is how akin to a gas leak my breath smelt during that conversation.

I am a being that thrives on habit and my nightly ritual back then always consisted of a glass of orange juice before bed. Why? I don't really know. However that night, i just couldn't drink it. 11pm came and I turned out my lamp. The juice sat beside my bed growing warm and thick in the stickiness of a British summer time night.

Not so much an annoying beeping of an alarm, but more a feeling similar to a hard, angry kick in the stomach by a 300 pound man in steel toe capped boots woke me a few short hours later. In the fetal position i lay in my bed. Mouth open in shock, eyes screwed up shut, my face totally contorted. It was hard to believe how much pain i was in. I blinked hard, trying to actually decide if this was even happening. I shuffled to my bathroom, completely hunched over reduced to half my size, griping my stomach.

I had never felt pain so crippling. I still couldn't believe this was happening. I get to the toilet, which I didn't actually need but i knew something inside me was most definitely wrong and there were 2 ways of getting it out out of me. I wanted to and had to try one of them. At least.

It may have been the middle of the night but those next few minutes, let me tell you, they were no dream.

I get back into my bed, feeling the weakest i have ever done, still sore around my stomach though slightly eased from my bathroom escapades. I drift off into a light uncomfortable clammy sleep only for round two of "bacteria gone wild" inside my usually pretty robust gut to kick off again.

I feel that shaky, odd numbness and the tingle of the face that I know only means one thing. I fumble in the dark, knocking over a pile of photos and the orange juice trying to get a hold of my waste paper bin. I undergo 3 vigorous painful vomit hurling sessions into my, luckily pretty empty bin. My stomach feels exhausted, very sore - almost stretched out - but now thankfully empty.

I go down to the utility room to clean out the trash can with some hot water and bleach. I let my dog into the garden, he wags his tail and looks up at me. He is super pleased that as I scrape my vomit into a heavy duty trash bag, he gets to frolic on the dewy grass. I get to the bottom of the bin and i see a picture of me and my friends with a film of vomit over it smiling at me. I didn't smile back.

I spent the next day napping, burping a rancid stinking rotten egg like smell and getting phone calls every hour from the boyfriend who wanted to check i was fine but who was actually really annoying me as to get up and answer the phone was the last thing i wanted to do. Besides every time i moved, for want of a better expression, i almost shit myself.

It got to around 10pm and after a day of being completely off i really needed a shower. I get in the tepid water and i hurl up what can only be described as the lining of my stomach, yellow and hot. The rotten egg smell that has been making me nauseated all day long now swirling down the plug hole.

As soon as i'm out of the shower I resume sweating. I sweated more that day than i ever have done in my life, my hair for the first and only time ever was thick with grease, lank and stuck to my head. I crawled into bed, desperate to put the day to an end. I drifted off to a calm sleep, weak and pathetic from every orifice on my body working over time trying it's hardest to rid me of the evil that was ravaging me from the inside - off chicken nuggets.

An awkward situation.

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

October 7th, 2006.

Current mood:contemplative

This afternoon, i got into a lift at my university to travel down the 8 flights of stairs i'm too lazy to bother even considering walking down. Behind me, my teacher for the lesson i have just got out of, gets onto the lift.

The doors slide shut and my teacher who must be in her late 50's says, "I like the opacity of your nail varnish". I say, a little embarrassed as it is chipped to fuck and looks bad, "Thanks". My teacher then said, "I've always thought there is something very sexy about chipped toe nail varnish". I reply, "I'm not sure about toes being sexy at all". She then says "Well there is definitely something sexy about chipped finger nail varnish. It's very little girlish. Have you ever worn a little brownie guide dress for Halloween? Then men go crazy for it. Do they go crazy for your chipped nails?". I have only one word for this "No." She then tells me, again, "Chipped nail polish is very sexy, it's almost paedophilic." She laughs. I laugh, i'm not really amused. We get to the ground floor and exit the lift without a goodbye.

Dying on December 23rd would really ruin Christmas

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

December 30th, 2006.

Current mood:hungry

So i'm on my way back to the UK for Christmas last week, all is as it usually is on the transatlantic journey. I get to SFO in what i think is good time but end up with a crappy seat, you get on the plane and some uncle fucker with 20 bits of hand-luggage has taken up the over head storage space and the one next to it, and the one next to that. I'm a little bit tired and irrationally irked at stuff like that.

The plane takes off in good time, there is a small delay due to the plane arriving late into SFO but nothing bad so i get to reading, a.k.a looking at the pictures, in the shitty magazine i always buy myself when i am traveling on my own and before i knew it i was fast asleep. I'm sleeping for about an hour before being woken up by the food trolley.

That's when the first jolt of turbulence occurred. It was quite sharp and unpleasant but it was just one isolated lunge so i thought nothing of it apart from how turbulence always seems to happen when they give out the food. The rows behind me we being given their food and the plane began to shudder pretty violently.

I usually quite like turbulence, that feeling it gives you in your tummy is like the feeling you get on a roller coaster and i always think that is quite fun, until i remember how high up in the air i am. Then i get a little nervous. Usually at this point the pilot, in reassuring tones, will explain of how we are flying through a storm or high winds. There will be some form of explanation for the temporary discomfort and everyone will continue to go about stuffing their faces, albeit a little shakily due to the bobbing plane, but generally feeling ok about the bumps. Well i do anyway. But this time the pilot sharply asked all passengers to be seated and to be wearing their seat belts. No it will be fine in 10 minutes, just sit the fuck down. !!!!

I look at the air hostess, she is gripping 2 seats, her arse in someones face as she is trying to not fall over. She looks worried and uncomfortable. If she who spends most of her life up in the sky is uncomfortable, i am uncomfortable. She says in a sweet, professional sounding voice which i'm sure is fake across the middle isle of 5 seats to another air host "i don't think we can go on!". Can't go on with the flight?! With the handing out of the food?! Um, totally not reassuring whatever she meant! The pilot then sharply requests all the hosts and hostesses were to be seated and buckled up. She ditched a crappy salad on the shuddering plastic table in front of me, not even the pasta i asked for (United do very nice vegetarian pasta dishes FYI) and gets sat down and seat belted without hesitation. Mind you, i can't say i was hungry at that point.

The plane shook, swooped and shuddered violently. Everyone swayed about, bumped up and down and shook. I held my own hands and felt sick. I was actually really scared. It dawned on me, fuck, i'm in a metal tube hundreds of feet in the air that is being severely beaten around. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I scanned the map on the little TV imbedded in the seat in front of me. We were over mountains, i don't know the name of the particular troublesome range but we were crossing over from Idaho to Montana and cutting over a corner of some other state too (yes bad geography i know).

Trying to comfort myself i thought back to my flight out to Vegas in January. It sucked, it really did. It was very bumpy and the plane seemed to be under extreme pressure, my body felt really tight (if you're thinking of buttholes or other orifices here you are gross) and i felt like i might blow up or at least puke for most of the way there. The pilot explained that the discomfort was due to slightly more windy than average conditions, the altitude we were flying at, and unusual peaks and troughs in the air pressure we were traveling through due to the Sierra Nevada mountains. So i told myself that as soon as we got over the mountains we would be fine.

It took about 45 minutes from the hostesses being made to sit for the turbulence to end. That is a long fucking time to sit and wonder if this plane will actually make it. I wished i was with someone, but then i was glad i was alone as i could calm myself down. I wouldn't be able to be calm if i could see my mom or dad worrying. I worked out what time it was in SF, i imagined getting nachos, or a burrito. I was trying to think about normal stuff. Then i realised shit, what if i died and hadn't eaten a burrito, or nachos in months?!

I've recently been on a bit of a diet and have really cut back on the things i love so much but make me a total fat bastard, like mexican food, beer, pizza etc. I was bummed. What if i were to die and i spent the last 2/3 months depriving myself of some of the things i like the most?

Then a whole new worry. So we get through the storm, or whatever the fuck is going on, as we hadn't actually been informed, and the plane has had a crucial bolt loosened, or something like one of those tiny bits that flap up during landing on the wing (i imagine they're important) has broken off, or fuck, can this plane make the 7 more hours it has to go before reaching London?!!? Arrgh. I'm just scarring myself more now. That fucking NOFX song about dying on a plane comes into my head. How annoying and thoroughly inappropriate.

Then i think about dying. It was that bad. Especially when the plane sort of nose dived a little before evening back out. I was thinking how it would just totally ruin Greenhill family Christmases, for a couple of generations at least, if i were to snuff it 48 hours before Christmas day. Nice timing. I thought how i'd write a fucking "blog" about it when i got home, i will get home, i will!!

And then as suddenly as it started, it stopped. No easing off, it just stopped. About 45 minutes of holding my own hands, heart in mouth, nauseating shaking, bumping and shuddering, just over. The lady sat next to me said "that was not enjoyable". She was not wrong.

A couple of minutes later the pasta i wanted about an hour ago was put in front of me. I scoffed it down, then i fell asleep pretty much straight away and stayed asleep until about an hour before landing . Fearing death is apparently quite exhausting.

No, booze, 'til TX

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

January 30th, 2007.

Current mood:groggy

Approximately 3 weeks ago i went to "90s Nite" at the Barfly in Birmingham. As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, the state i got myself into really took the piss (see fig.1).


Fig.1

I have no recollection of the night, at all, (though unfortunately my friend helped piece it together with some pretty disgusting photo's) apart from when i got home. I was stood holding my laptop, and as i was unable to actually stand the floor began to get closer to my face and because of the laptop i couldn't put my arms down to brace the fall so i eat some major shit and fell on the left side of my chin. (accidently erased my pics of the chin, but it wasn't cute). The bruising lasted a good 10 days but then disappeared quickly after i began constantly rubbing witch hazel on it but the lump still remains.

My mom (yes to make things even worse i was my parents house) came into my bedroom around 8am the next morning and asked me if i was ok as apparently the sofa in the lounge had moved and i had knocked the lampshade so it was crooked and had shouted to my dad the night before when i got home that i couldn't find the dog. (who was sleeping in the room i was in - he is a big old golden retriever) Thank fuck i made it to the bedroom as i was only wearing knickers (?).

I swore then that i was going to seriously lay off the booze this year. That was 3 weeks ago and i have a pretty awful confession. Apart from this last week when i have been post Vegas sick i only spent 4 days without a drink since that time. What with visiting friends back home, birthdays, shows and Las Vegas, it's been a hard time for the liver.

I was all pleased with myself for laying low though until last night when i went to my friends birthday party. There was a pretty endless supply of booze, and well, i over indulged. All was fine, i danced with people i had only just met to Prince sat by a nice log fire and was pretty dandy until i left and got in the taxi to go home to pass out in my bed. Then i realised my stupid drunk ass had left my phone in the taxi.

I've tried to get it back today, and will keep calling the lost property sections of a few city cab firms (yes, so drunk - again - that i didn't even know which firm the cab that got me home was part of) but when i called Cingular to suspend my account they informed me if i want to replace my old phone it will be a delightful $249.

Fuck you booze, see you tomorrow!

Leslie Hall

I'm in the process of moving all my old blogs over into one space...

March 28th, 2007.

Current mood:full

The other day i saw Leslie and the LY's. I thought they would be annoying but they played my work so i wouldn't have to pay to see them, the drinks would be $1 and i heard of her sweater collection thing so me, being a knit-nerd and lover of kitsch i guessed it would be worth checking out for that alone.

The show was totally sold out, with about 70 people even being turned away. I was anxious to see what all the fuss was about. The crowd did have some annoying people in it but there were also just a lot of normal everyday sorts so i stuck around.

Her music is funny but it's not the best, however i don't think it is trying to be, it was her attitude and confidence that was really fucking cool. Me being the cynical young asshole I am I just assumed she was gonna be some band wagon riding asshole from LA or New York, but she is from Ames, Iowa which, correct me if i have this wrong, i don't think is the epicenter of cool. She generally seemed like she was the freaky girl who perhaps got picked on at school and was totally unpretentious and just danced and wobbled about in her gold lame leotard rapping which was genuinely funny and entertaining.

She is also a very pretty girl, which you wouldn't guess from her pics. I think in an age where people, especially women, are going to all dumb lengths to be "attractive" it is really refreshing that there is someone almost uglying themselves up and embracing their eccentricities instead of trying to stifle them, which i think makes her only more attractive and more rad anyway.

If you ever get the chance to see her live show, you probably wont want to buy the album but you will have fun and witness an awesome individual whose comfort with herself i wish could be embraced by more people. I'm really glad i went to this show, Leslie Hall is pretty cool. It's nice to be pleasantly surprised by something, it doesn't happen a whole lot.

Tight pants.

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

June 4th, 2007.

Current mood:confused

I like tight pants, and when i say tight, i mean a snug fit. Not something i break a sweat trying to wrestle on.

I used to have a really nicely fitting pair of jeans from Topshop, waist 32" length 30". 32" waist. I wore them until the crotch busted. I fucking busted the crotch open, embarrassing. Also, this blowout occurred on a plane. I loved these jeans, i didn't want to begin to come to terms with their death. Like how some people patch their jacket elbows, i took a patch to the beloved crotch of those jeans. And for a few days i really thought the jeans had been reborn. Hallelujah, etc! Then, as i climbed out of my friends Beetle i felt an undeniable rupture then breeze which caused the denim to be permanently retired to the fabric bag avec failed patch.

So, you can imagine how happy i was upon going to Topshop while back here in England to see that they had the same style. I was even gonna get them in black this time too! I picked up a 32" 30" and thought i'd go and try them on just as i was trying on a bunch of other stuff. I began to put them on and i had a bit of a shock, they were stuck at my calves. My fucking calves?! But my legs are usually not a problem area?! Not wanting to admit defeat i started to wrench them up, wriggling the fabric over my now seemingly enormous calves. I get to my knee, phew! They fit my knee's at least! I go for the pull up over the thigh and shit, they're stuck again. I'm all about a tight little number, but these pair, they're just taking the piss. I can't get the crotch of the jeans to meet my actual flesh crotch they are that tight, but oddly the arse area (even thought it is a few inches lower than it should be) is rather loose, too big. I couldn't have gone up a size as the top would have been too big and the leg probably would still have been spray on at the very best. Does a woman with such a difference in arse and leg size really exist?!

So anyway, now i am relying on one pair i really like. I can see the knees, going a little fluffy, as if they are threatening to rip and go all cheesy rock bitch on me. So where should i get some new denim from ladies? And Crystal if you read this, remember the mom jeans?!!

Show me heaven, please.

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

June 8th, 2007

I always used to have a bath before Top of The Pops would come on and i would sing and dance around the lounge infront of my parents. Maria McKee's "Show Me Heaven" was a favourite of my young, 7 year old self. Recently, I was thinking about the lyrics of this song. It must've been funny, a little kid camping it up, asking to be shown heaven, to be left breathless and best of all "do you know what it's like, to dream a dream?". When i was i think 4, i said to my mom "i wish it would fucking snow". I bet that was funny to my Mom too, after she had to tell me to never say "fucking" again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7mpIBfXwJnk

Dear Pizza...

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

July 2nd 2007

Current mood:hungry

All i can think about is how much i want your hot cheesy goodness/badness. I love you. I'm salivating. I have had you for dinner 4 times times this week, and once as a post midnight snack. I wasn't even drunk, you were just there and I couldn't deny you. You can do no wrong! I'm going to Chicago in a couple of weeks, i get to have authentic deep dish you. I want you right now, it's uncontrollable! Every minute, every hour, every day - i want pizza!! Margarita, 4 cheeses, Hawaiian (even though i am pineapple intolerant), meat feast, vegetarian, anything - with olives. Arghh. Is it lunch time?

"Ever had a grown man shave your armpits before?"

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

August 25th, 2007.

Current mood:lazy

Here is a little TV review, because i just can't believe some of the crap i watch sometimes. (The above quote is something i just heard on the TV but did not actually see what it was, shame huh?)


Dr. 90210 - People are fucking dumb. I'm having something to eat, channel hopping and i come across Dr. 90210. It appears to be some sort of genitalia based episode as 1 woman gets her vagina lips reduced and some major douche gets a HPV wart shaved off his dick. I used to strangely think Dr. Rey was ok looking, not great but ok on the eye. That was 3 years ago though, before all the gay flowery shirts and too much surgery, his crows feet curl up towards his eyebrows, weird. Anyway, the dumbass getting her vag fixed asked if her labia was so long (7cm fyi) because she had had a very active sex life. What the fuck was the logic behind that theory? Some people are just really stupid. Then el HPV douche gives the background to his life style. He moved to L.A. to be an actor, pfffrt haha!! Anyway then he bought shares in bars and clubs so now basically he spends his time abusing his position as a club owner, getting sluts drunk and fucking them. He was not even remotely hot, quite the opposite. The total opposite. He goes to the plastic surgeons office (instead of the clinic?!...????) to get his wart removed and the surgeon tells him to practice safe sex, his reply was "hey, after 10 drinks i don't make any decisions!".


The Hills - Oh yes! It's back!! Here is my brief character synopsis.

Lauren - Ok, ok. I still stand by that this girl does have a personality, somewhere. She is getting way better around the cameras and i do like her. I like that she is out there on her own with her fat bank balance trying to get on with her life, she has ditched the ass and i hope she does well, ooh why am i so into the Hills?

Audrina - This girls tooth color frightens me, especially against her tan. I don't think teeth are that white when they actually grow in your mouth. There are hints of personality, hints, though generally she seems really dumb and spacey, but once again, i accredit that to being awkward and camera shy. They really need to get over that, being "reality" TV stars and all.

Heidi - This girl is a moron. I get the feeling she will look back, upon her events with her former best friend and be completely regretful of how she has alienated herself. It's kind of sad really, but oh well! Who gives a shit!

Spencer - Bluergh!!! Vomit! He looks like the main sleaze from an 80s teen flick, his hair and face alone make me want to beat him up, hehe. He is a horrible, manipulative, spoiled shit who would really benefit from being told no. And getting beaten up, is that wrong for me to feel that way about someone i don't know?! (yes)

Justin Bobby - Did Russell Crowe and the Geico caveman have a lovechild? Another douche, are there any boys in this show that aren't assholes?


In other news, I went to the zoo this week. It was thoroughly depressing, everyone there was either a child or in an overly affectionate couple. I felt as if i must've looked like a cross between a kiddy fiddler and just general creepy perv. Unintentionally watching couples making out, surrounded by kids and animals. Alone in a zoo, who knew that would suck so much?! Also the TV show Peepshow just rules. I watched season 4 on You Tube as it aired while i was out here in the US and i just love it. Apparently Spike TV is gonna remake it for American audiences, boo.

GROSS

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest into this one space.

December 2nd, 2007.

Current mood:indescribable

I'd like to take this opportunity to share with you a few things that have recently disgusted me. Kind regards, G. Love and Special Sauce.

Last night, after an intense 11 hour day, i was looking forward to coming home, cooking dinner and watching a few re-runs of "What Not To Wear". I threw some tortilla chips in a mixing bowl then go to the fridge to get my eggs, ooh, i have 3 left, it will be a big treat of meal! 3 eggs! I crack egg 1 and then egg 2 into the bowl, then egg 3... WHAT THE FUCK!!! Urgh, it's fucking FERTILIZED!!! BLUERGH! Lots of blood and a big nasty grey chicken embryo in, what was, my fucking dinner!!! You wanna know what is really fucking stupid too? When i bought those eggs the cashier asked if i had checked the eggs for cracks, i replied yes, the dude behind then said "why, might there be a chick in there!?". Yes, hilarious i know, but then the cashier said to him, "well sometimes a fertilized does egg slip through!"

Today upon leaving my house to get coffee, i see a dude near the end of my street that seems to be pissing up a wall. Not a wholly unusual sight for anywhere in SF so i just conclude to stay on the opposite side of the street from him and try to remember to not tread in his piss puddle on my way home. As i get closer he turns toward me and although my eyes are averted to the ground i still somehow manage to catch a glimpse of what can only be described as a filth encrusted eggplant looking thing (homeboy, or rather, homeless boy was completely white too, well in the face and hands anyway) filling a can of Steel Reserve with urine. He walks off drinking from the can. For fucks sake!! I was just going to get coffee!! Now i absolutely do not want to put any warm liquid in my mouth, at all.

Sometime last week upon waking up, I switched on my phone. It was then i noticed that wedged between a couple of the panels of plastic on it was a bright ginger pubic hair? Hours before it could have been attached to a vagina, man crotch, or even an ass and now it is stuck on an object i frequently hold to my face. I am absolutely not a red head and this thing was a beefy assed long ginger pube. There is no f'n WAY i produced it. My roommate is not ginger either, unless she is hiding a secret... I have no idea where this solitary rogue ginger pube came from and how it got stuck to my phone.

I recently discovered some of my family on the 'space. My only female cousin, who is 16, has a screen name something like ~SeXXXyJeSSiEbaYbeE~. That grossed me out as it is but then i started thinking about her. She is one of them bleach blonde, popular and attractive girls that definitely would have bullied me when i was at school, she has had the same boyfriend for a couple of years, and if times haven't changed much she is definitely one of them kinds of girls that was getting laid when i was at school... Then it hit me in the guts that my 16 year old cousin that i remember holding (being forced to) the day she was born, has probably had a ton of dick. Ewwwwww. I will see her on Christmas Eve, that is all i will be able to think of. However, i'm having my wisdom teeth out on the 21st so maybe i can take some vicodin and it will be ok.

Spare a little candle, save some light for me...

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

January 1st, 2008.

Current mood:exotic

The Harlequin Ladybird has ferociously hit the shores of the British Isles. Upon my return home for Christmas there was a very cold snap of weather which sends these little buggars looking for warmth and hibernation spots. They weren't the only ones, i said to my Dad upon my refusal to leave the house until it warmed up (in my best CA accent) "dude, i'm like, totally from California, you know? Shit's hella cold." The joke was lost completely but anyway, a few days later it did warm up considerably. I felt I could physically bring myself to leave the house and so did these fucking ladybirds. Now, they are not like normal cute ladybirds. Some look very much like a bigger version, about 4 times bigger, of a carpet beetle (my house in Nottingham had an infestation of them, which was wonderful). As the weather warmed up the ladybirds were flying, crawling and swarming around windows, in corners where the ceiling meets the walls and generally being disgusting. I guess they thought Spring had sprung and that they wanted to get outdoors and eat other bugs etc. I hate bugs and this really bothered me. Especially as i had no clue what they were, my parents internet was down and the only thing i could think of was that they were some mutant strain of carpet beetle. We managed to get rid of a lot of them and then that was that, problem solved. However, it stuck in my subconscious... Fast forward one week. Last Saturday night i had a most peculiar dream. I dreamt every 3 years the humble carpet beetle was to quadruple in size. What was now a fairly minor insect problem would be like 100 turtles invadin' your house in a decade. The government were really stressed as in 50 years, these massive beetles were set to take over the world. My mom was especially pissed as one did a shit down one of her salmon pink sweaters. As a preventative measure the government issued every UK resident with a gun to shoot these beetles dead. I was worried my parents would accidently kill each other and then that is, thankfully, where i woke up.

Since returning i've had a touch of jetlag, nothing too obnoxious just early to bed and even earlier to rise, or well wake at least. A couple of nights ago i was awoken by another very graphic dream. This time it was zombie based. Now, it seems i have a pretty elaborate zombie dream every few months, but they don't scare me, i quite enjoy them. I totally fight and kick zombies asses and can run and run and i am the star of some feature film in my mind. Rulin'! Anyhow, this one was different as i got beat, by an 8 foot zombie version of Jeremy Clarkson. I was hitting him with a huge log but he was just too much for me and he killed me. Sigh. But, i woke up and am apparently not dead, so yeah, awesome!

Whoever decided Yoko Ono could sing should be shot. Oh wait...

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

January 2nd, 2008.

When I was 3 I met Lionel Richie. I don't remember this, however, he signed something for me and he put "To Jemmer love Lionel Richie". I shit you not, "Jemmer". That is probably the best misinterpretation of my name ever, and it was by Lionel Richie.

At about 5 i remember seeing Earth, Wind and Fire. Before going, i was terrified. I thought they were going to be some apocalyptic display of natural elements. But when they came on stage and i realised it was a band, i had a real funky time and a good dance.

When I was 8 years old I went to see Hall and Oates with my mom and eldest sister. It was in a fairly small theatre in Wolverhampton. The stage was pretty low and i remember being bored and resting my head on it. Afterwards Hall and Oates were outside meeting and greeting the fans, John Oates gave me a sweaty towel and a kiss on the cheek because he thought i was cute. I have had John Oates furry mustache on my cheek.

Baked.

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

January 4th, 2008.

Current mood:high

i don't think i've been this stoned since the 90s. it's almost 5am and just bought 10 pieces of fried chicken (eat 2 thighs now i am full)

Las Vegas...

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

January 27th, 2008.

... you do something to me, something deep inside, like making me unable to have any kind of normal bowel movement for days and days after we meet. A head cold, peeling skin and a loss of my voice. It's like, as those who know me would agree, i am such a pure being, i am actually allergic to you and all the sin you put me through.

I was in a public restroom the other day and someone wrote on the wall "i miss solid shits". If i had had a sharpie i would have written in response "i just miss shits". I am not sure what it is that has interfered with my digestive system (But I have an idea - those 20,000 bottles of Corona? Approximately 19.5 Eggs Benedict's consumed at the all you can eat buffet in about 2 hours? 5 bottles of Jim Beam? 5 plates of biscuits and "gravy" aka day old chowder, consumed around 5am? 6 plates of corned beef hash? Endless crab legs and dessert buffet... yes, this could go on for quite some time) but something is just plain old fucked up.

Today i am on a "peach tea detox", which entails me drinking 3 big mugs of this spicy weird watery stuff (tea), totally not peachy at all. It is the kick off to a 2 week plan. This tea's apparently pretty aggressive and somewhat comparable to a colonic irrigation without the anal intrusion, can't wait!!

Peace out.

So totally fucked up

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

February 21st, 2008.

Current mood:nauseated

I'm watching this TLC thing (yes, i told you it was fucked up) about a man who grows tree like things out of his hands and feet and the rest of his body is kinda warty, or in fact completely warty. Google "half man half tree" if you want a real feast for the eyes. I wonder if his wang is like a big gnarled tree trunk? How does he pee or wipe his arse? I don't like to be insensitive, and i am not a fan of what is called "car crash TV" oh and nothing annoys me more, well maybe genocide or something like that, than rubber neckers at, i don't know, a potentially dead crackwhore lying on the street or comatose bum, but this shit, it's so completely gross, i want to look away so bad but i just can't. Also i am watching it with the sound down as my roommate is asleep so i am not entirely sure what is really even going on. Now they're just showing various wart covered individuals. Sigh. Eww, they're hacking a whole hand full of crispy warts off this one dude. Well, at least this does completely put me off fried chicken. Gross out.

March Madness

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

April 5th, 2008.

Current mood:focused

For the past couple of years during the month of March i’ve entered a state of frivolity that is rather out of character. It seems i go through a super productive period at the beginning of the year where i have my shit together, i’m motivated and content, i look after myself (kinda) and manage to strike a pretty good balance between weird time and getting stuff done. Then 10 or so weeks into the year i can no longer burn the candle at both ends, as dey say, and I get sick. 2007 I had shingles which was like, hella lame dude. This year I had an amazing concoction of really rad things, i’ll spare you the details... But either way March seems to involve some downtime, being sick and laying about. Then i get frustrated and bored, i feel guilty for not doing anything and in an attempt to rid myself of the boredom and lift my mood intense boozing ensues. Now sometimes i can work through a hangover just fine, but other times i am pretty crippled by them, so my productivity level is stupid low. By night time i feel better so yeah, what do i do again? Get drunk. Nine times out of 10 i am a fantastic drunk, but that one time of being a jerk and acting silly completely overshadows the 9 of radfest. So upon waking up with another hangover, finding the day before yesterdays panties on my sofa (? - god my room mate must hate me), i’m realising it’s April. March Madness is over and I have to get my shit together. I need some punches in the face. Oh and can you believe Vanessa Williams is black? Thee most white looking black lady ever.

Bret Michael’s Forehead

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

April 20th, 2008.

Current mood:vibrant

So i just woke up with a killer hangover giggling to myself about a recent conversation i had concerning Bret Michael's perma-bandana/wig combo. I am cooking last nights dinner now as i figure i need it and it was long forgotten about yesterday, then i plan on going back to bed. Anyway, that is besides the point. The point is he could very well have any of the following under that bandana.

- an eye
- a mustache
- a ball gagged mouth
- another pair of eyebrows

So there's this doll...

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

June 1st, 2008.

Current mood:curious

that my best friend of 14 years sent me from England. I received it only on Friday, and i put it on my receiver. I wrote a thank you letter to her and i looked at it closely, thinking how much i liked it. It is a cute Japanese doll (from England?), it looks like it is asleep and in its bottom (i don't mean its arse, i mean the bottom of the dress of the doll, it's wearing a floor length dress so that qualifies as its bottom) there is a space the sender of the doll can poke in a little letter, it's cute. Anyway, mid-afternoon yesterday i noticed the doll was looking at the wall. I thought it was odd as i remember placing it facing outwards, i concluded i must have moved the doll somehow and just twisted it back around to face outward into the room. I went out for a few hours. I came home, walked up to my desk where my receiver is and put down my purse, i noticed the doll was once again looking at the wall. I feel there must be some logical explanation for this, but right now i can't really figure out what that is. I was moderately freaked out and removed it from my bedroom into the lounge. I am not yet ready to throw it away as, a) it is a gift and b) i like it. It has been out here in the lounge for about 24 hours, it has not moved, however, I am monitoring this situation closely...

San Francisco

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

June 8th, 2008. In the midst of visa woes...

Current mood:calm (no emoticon for self-pityful)

I was thinking today how San Francisco is just like some boy i would stupidly fall in love with. Very very handsome, very fun, weird, everything i want but they're not able to give me anything i really need and despite trying and trying, it will probably end up not working out.

D.S.L.

I'm in the process of clearing my old blog and moving anything of mild interest all into this one space.

June 9th, 2008.

Current mood:amorous

Today I went to Ocean Beach. Despite taking with me this really enlightening and awesome novel i'm currently really enjoying I decided to read my new copy of Viz cover to cover and laugh rather loudly at it even though i was on my own.

I saw a lot of kids playing, i saw one little chubby boy wearing jeans and a hoodie, even though it was an uncommon shorts and t-shirt day here in SF. As a kid i rarely went to the beach, and never really enjoyed it too much when i did. As a little fatty, i didn't really ever embrace an occasion that required the wearing of few clothes, sure that cute little fucker felt the same.

I started thinking about when i was a kid and some of the strange things i used to think were completely normal back then, but now i see how fucked up they were. For example, when i was about 4 i would pound on the door asking to be let into the toilet while my mom was peeing, she let me in a couple of times and i proceeded to tell her that i thought her vagina had teeth. Even though at the time i didn't fully understand what a vagina was, I clearly remember being convinced hers had teeth.

At around 5 i developed a mysterious aversion to toilets. I believe I held all bowel movements in for 6 weeks, though in retrospect, it seriously cannot have been that long. I took to peeing anywhere and everywhere i could. I wish i was making this up, but unfortunately i really am not. My 2 piss venues were out of the lounge window into the back garden and behind a sofa in the lounge. One morning i was taking a leak behind the sofa and my mom caught me. I was told off so thoroughly i think i was shaking a bit. I remember my Mom saying sternly "I thought i could smell wee Gemma!" I never pissed behind the couch or out of the window ever again and the toilet hiatus was broken. I knew i was doing wrong but each piss out of the toilet was a like a mini adventure and it got kind of addictive.