Monday, February 14, 2011

Jennifer Aniston's Anthem

Please first refer to this Dolly Parton song and picture Jennifer Aniston singing it with these lyrics:

Angelina Jolie, Jolie, Jolie, Jolie
I'm begging of you please don't take my man
Angelina Jolie, Jolie, Jolie, Jolie
Please don't take Brad Pitt just because you can
Your beauty is beyond compare
With vials of blood and jet black hair
With ivory skin and an adopted Chinese.
You make men go weak at the knees

I’ll always be seen as Rachel Green,

And I cannot compete with you, Angelina Jolie

In Friends
I play the girl next door,

You solved crimes in The Bone Collector,

You were smoking hot in Alexsander, Angelina Jolie.

You’ve already won an Academy Award

Your sexual preferences have been explored,

But Brad Pitt likes getting stoned with me, Angelina Jolie

Angelina Jolie, Jolie, Jolie, Jolie

I’m begging of you please don't take Brad Pitt from me
Angelina Jolie. Jolie, Jolie, Jolie

Please don’t take him just because you can

In Gia
you got your tits out,

And I just want to scream and shout

I could have 50 adopted kids if I wanted to, Angelina Jolie

In Tomb Raider your tits were huge,

Why don’t you move to Cameroon?

Mr & Mrs Smith was shit. Angelina Jolie

Angelina Jolie. Jolie, Jolie, Jolie

I’m begging of you please don't take Brad Pitt from me
Angelina Jolie. Jolie, Jolie, Jolie

Please don’t take him just because you can

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Poo in the Hallway

Last night I'm out at after work drinks and I get this text from Mark:

"Lenny pooed on the floor"

Normally this wouldn't be a problem, you get home, there's a poo on the floor, you pick it up, sniff it, lick it, take a bite out of it and ask "hey mark, is this poo??"

But this was no ordinary night, they were doing a house inspection for prospective buyers of the flat, and there in the hallway would have been the unspoken nugget.

I quickly texted Mark back:

"I hope they don't think it was us"

I don't know what is worse, them thinking we shit in the hallway - or that we are happy to live with shit in the hallway. Plus it was right in the doorway when you walk in, so the real estate guy and the buyer would have opened the door to a nugget and them presumably stepped over it and pretended it didn't exist. But how can you pretend a poo doesn't exist. It's right there and everyone knows its poop.

I think Mark and I should embrace the Nugget and start calling ourselves Cletis and Jolene.

Start hanging out tampons on the curtain railing: "Them's for recycling"

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

Irrational Hatefest

Hey who wants to talk about Periods?!?!

I don't know about you but my periods literally sneak up on me during the night. And if you have a ballsack right now can you please go and mash it in between two boulders - that would be awesome. thanks.

Anyway - back to me and my bleeding uterus... like I said my periods sneak up on me in the night, I'll wake up giving birth to a blood baby and then it all falls into place...

I wanted to scratch Mark's face off earlier - now I know why.
I called my boss a cunt and slammed the phone down on him - that makes sense now.

But right now I'm all covered in blood and I have to sort that out and it's at 3am that my week long hate fest against everything that breathes begins. Actually it's already begun, I'm just too wrapped up in my anger to realise.

I'm walking to work and these are the people I want to kill and it's not even 9am:

The group of knobs who spread out across the whole footpath - hey I get that there are four of you in your stupid little group, but is it necessary to walk in a straight line across the entire footpath!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't make me walk in the gutter assholes!

The guy who just had to run onto the tube and steal the seat I was heading towards, that was my seat! If eyeballs could burn a hole in someones head your brain would be on public display right now.

and as the day progresses my kill list grows ever longer:

Pretty much everyone I work with. Your music sucks. Your food stinks. Stop going on about things that happened on Friday. Stop watching sport next to me. Stop breathing so loud.

Mark. Erghh. Everything you are doing right now is annoying. knowing you exist is annoying me. I am thinking up annoying things you did weeks ago and getting re-annoyed at you. Expect lots of nonsensical arguments about things I have been stewing over for months. Do you remember that time you asked me one too many times if I wanted to see that movie 'Rabbit Hole' with Nicole Kidman? Well I don't!!!!!! I don't want the movie 'Rabbit Hole' mentioned to me ever again! What is your stupid fascination with that movie, it's like every time we go past a poster in the tube you go "hey do you want to see that movie Rabbit Hole? it's supposed to be awesome" It won't be awesome. It will be awful. Don't speak to me about 'Rabbit Hole'


Even inanimate objects are annoying: Oyster Card, do not tell me to seek assistance. YOU seek assistance you blue piece of crap.

Walking up Ladbroke Grove I give the drug dealers and gangbangers dagger eyes so even they would be too scared to mug me.

Before I go to bed my quilt annoys me for being too big, smelling funny and being itchy. Lenny annoys me because he must love the smell of period and won't leave me alone. And once again Mark is annoying me through his sheer existence.

I'm surprised more women don't end up in Prison. Unless "my period made me do it" is an understood excuse for getting out of stabbing people in the head.

Monday, February 07, 2011

Free = Diseased

I live in Ladbroke Grove and about 90% of my weekends are spent trawling around the markets on Portobello Road. I try to escape it, but when its all outside my door I find it hard to get any further than Notting Hill Gate, by that time I have accumulated some hairy jumpers, a teapot, some baklava, and a painting of cats, so then I have to turn around and go home to recuperate.

I love 2nd hand junk. I just go mental for it. Which brings me to the point of this story: if people love 2nd hand junk - why don't they love free junk??

I have mentioned before my love of The Inn on the Green - the meeting place of Method Steve, and various other shenanigans. The Inn on the Green is like no other place in London that I have been before, and when you bring new people into its crazy realm, you can be sure to have some explaining to do.

Saturday night I took some newbs in for the experience, and I'm sure that deep down. deep deep down - they loved it.

First of all there was a musical memorial wake in memory of a dead guy who may or may not have been in a band - but luckily his brother who was clearly in the midst of a mental breakdown - was. Let me just paint the scene - the guitarist who was the main performer in the wake was wearing; fluffy white slipper boots, hair scrunchies on his arms, christmas decoration bracelets and a cat toy on his head like a hat.

so pretty much channelling Dr Seuss, if Dr Seuss was in the midst of a personal breakdown and been smoking Meth for 2 straight weeks.

Then came the singing: "merrrhhhhnnerrrr brother.. and herrrrrrurgggg sleeping in his cot mummbrleeeeeeeee SHHHHHHHHHHH SHHHHHHHH, ok i'm try that again in D"

Brillant. Best Funeral I've ever been to, and the night kept getting better.

One thing that is at the heart of the Inn on the Green, is that it's a community place, everyone from every walk of life goes there and is welcomed and doesn't stir shit with anyone. It's a place where you can safely walk around with a cat toy on your head without anyone giving you a side-eye.

So it really didn't surprise me when I saw a rack of clothes with a sign saying "LOST AND FOUND CLEARANCE - TAKE WHAT YOU WANT". Friggen Awesome.

I have this recurring dream where I am in a shopping centre and I've been told I can take anything I want and I go into a meltdown because I have too much to choose from and I wake up diving into a pool of clothes and accessories.

This was exactly like that. My dream had finally come to fruition!!!!!!!!!! except instead of really nice clothes from a designer emporium, it was old smelly clothes left behind by drug addicts. Wooooo Hooooooooo! Score.

I found a pair of glittery underpants (mark wouldn't let me take them, even though I did a thorough check for discharge) and this really cool Fred Flinstone vest, which I had to take off when I realised that the vest stunk of nuclear BO and I continued to stink the rest of the night as though he BO molecules had transferred themselves in solid form to my body. But aside from the free undies and BO vest there were some really good finds on that rack.

In the end I decided to go for a scarf, and two cardigans.. My friend also picked up a cardigan and sat in it for about an hour before she started feeling "feverish".. she blamed it on the cardigan and threw it to the ground. I have never heard of a cardigan giving you AIDS before but there was a tense few minutes when both of us thought we may have been infected for life from the free knitted goods we had claimed for our own.

I persisted however and ran home with my free junk to put into the washing machine - knowing that if I at least washed the clothes they would be less likely to kill me with their germs the next day.

And here I come to my point: why - just because something is free, do we think it's going to kill us?? The Inn on the Green also give away free nuts, crisps, chicken wings and samosas... yet no one wanted to go anywhere near them?? why?? I ate about 2 plates of nuts and lived to tell the tale, I wasn't allowed to eat the chicken wings. I don't understand?? what could the Inn on the Green ever get out of serving up poison nuts and chicken wings and giving out free Aids Jumpers?? You're not gonna get repeat service pulling pranks like that. Pretty much all the clothes I buy at Portobello Markets are comparable to the free junk I took home that night - and I don't worry about any of them giving me sleeve herpes. transference of money for clothes = no diseases, apparently.

I have since washed my free cardigans and scarf and am yet to wear them, that is if they are still at home and haven't robbed me - forming a rope out of each other and stealing my laptop and stereo and slithering slowly down the street.


Friday, February 04, 2011

School of Ha

Over the years of writing this blog people have written to me or commented saying I should take this blog on the road and become a stand up comedienne. For most of those years I thought "ha! no way, are you kidding? I'd rather stick 15 suppositories up my bum"

Except now I'm actually doing it, and the suppositories might come in handy. I had my first class last night in learning the art of doing stand up comedy, and it's a very serious business, very very serious. I don't think I have ever freaked out so much in my life. I was so scared a little wee came out.

The whole time I was there my brain was empty. I had to introduce myself and say why I was there? I had no idea what I was going on about, and neither apparently did my teacher. Awkward. Off to a great start.

Why was I there?? to turn my blog into a real life train wreck for people to walk away from shaking their heads going "wtf was that all about??"

My teacher said we'd be stripping ourselves down to the core, that we'd be confronted with a reflection of ourselves and we might not like what we find out. Great. I've always wanted to plunder the depths of my own self loathing to put on display for the world to poke a stick at.

When the time came to actually stand in front of my equally scared shitless posse, my legs felt like they were going to give out under me and it would be like that scene in the Black Swan where my knees are pointing out the back of my legs. I truly thanked god for remembering to do my kegel muscle exercises which gave me the strength to keep my bladder from emptying itself out of sheer fright and peeing myself in front of everybody. At least that would have been a good opener.

I'm sure next week it will be easier - I won't have to worry about censoring my inner retard who says the dumbest things at inopportune moments - that part of myself that is in its own way slowly sabotaging my life so that at the end of the day being a stand up comedienne and being a spaz is the only thing left that I can do with all my heart.

Next week I'll bring out the real me. The real me who is standing around picking out my in-grown pubes and squeezing my fanny scabs... ooh yeah I'm standing around picking out my in-grown pubes and squeezing my fanny scabs. Standing around and picking out my in-grown pubes and squeezing my fanny scabs. alll day looong.