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Posts archive for: 18 April, 2009
  • Marry me, Gillian Anderson

    Just got thinking; at what point does one term a crush a scary stalker-y obsession? Must we have a candlelit shrine of devotion, or hover creepily outside their back doors? Does the fact that I have more than one corporeal friend and a passable level of social acceptablity make me 'normal'?
    One of my housemates counted over 25 pictures of Keira Knightley on my walls a while back. Okay, so I'm relatively pretentious and decorative in this kind of way, but even I find this a little weird. Should I don my non-paedo anorak and cast myself into the murky depths of delusional fantasising?

    Watched Graham Norton last night and realised how much I am totally in love with Gillian Anderson. British, smart (so what if I think she is Scully), beautiful and gets hotter with age.
    Back in happy little fantasy...

  • A Lazy Saturday

    Argh, my head hurts. Not even Jonathan Ross' voice is making me feel better... oh no, especially when he decides to play Lily Allen on the radio.
    I've just been finding out about Twitter. Don't tell anyone, but I might have started signing up before getting a grip on self. I'm such a pitiful anti-sheep. Something becomes popular, and I have to avoid it like a plague, because I don't want to do 'what everyone else is doing'. Shameful.

    I back here at uni-Home on my own, completely lazing around today. I started work three days ago, surprisingly good. I mean, part of me will always want to be lying around here being bored and never seeing the sun, but it's rather enjoyable getting the train, hoping on the overpriced bus and doing something productive. Although I don't know if I'd want to work in a museum for ever. I don't think I'm cut out for the work thing.
    I'm more of a monotonous, boring office-girl. It's bizarre, I suppose it's exactly the kind of thing I've tried my life to avoid; the horrible little cardboard cutout life. I shouldn't get a thrill from writing out already written reports in a structured form. It's perverted and wrong.
    At my lunch breaks, I can just cross the road and be at the beach. Honestly, it's one of the nicest places and I couldn't be more grateful to work there actually. It's often misty, a twee little seaside village with pebbled beach, listening to the waves echoing off of the cliffs while I eat my sandwiches that I sat on on the train. Bliss.
    They have two wonderful little charity shops too, that are so much cheaper than some others I've been in. Where else can you buy Chocolat, the entire works of Edgar Allan Poe and Aristocats on VHS for under 3 quid? Bloody genius.
    Speaking of, I have spent so much recently, I think the terrible teenage-girl affliction of compulsive shopping has finally hit. At least I've stuck to my geekish roots and done a bit of it online. In a single week, I think I have bought... a little cup with a smiling ice-cream on it, Chocolat, Rocket Dog high-top shoes, 'Give Me Vodka' birthday card, The Works of Poe, the Strictly Come Dancing annual for my sister, Aristocats and Tipping the Velvet on DVD.
    No food for a month.

    Fantastic news though; I won a competition draw earlier this week. Can you please tell me, is there anything better than winning a giant chocolate rabbit and various sex toys?! I tell you, my dream has come true. I'll probably be raving about this when it arrives. Roll on, Monday.

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