BUT SO VERY DESPERATE TO WATCH ELECTIONS
I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW ANYONE CAN SLEEP
HOW PEOPLE CAN SAY ‘IT’S NOT MY COUNTRY’
YES IT FUCKING IS, LIKE IT OR NOT, IT IS. IT’S YOUR WORLD THEY RUN.
175 to 76. COME ON OBAMA. COME ON.
I am talking, of course, of housework. Or, as I like to call it, That Which Will Get You Beaten With The Hoover If You Name It. I have been dancing a merry dance with the vacuum cleaner, as it pulls me whichever way it wants to go, sucking up important objects in its quest to make me unhappy. I have been scrabbling in the dust, coughing and spluttering, trying to wipe away every dirty little smear. I have been TIDYING.
Some people like this sort of thing.
Bloody masochists.
“NANANANA, SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED, IT’S YOUR FAULT!”
“DON’T BE MEAN! MR SPEAKER, HE’S BEING MEAN!”
“LET’S THROW PAPER AT HIM!”
“YAY!”
How I do love our democracy.
I understand why they’re useful, I understand why it’s recommended that people should use them, I understand that they are helpful to some people and I understand that in exams we are even given time to plan.
But having said that, I loathe using them.
I hate having to plan out what I’m going to write, hate having to go through and spill it all out, hate having to organise it. Generally, I get by and get some pretty good marks, and stuff essay plans.
However, this does not seem likely to continue to A Level, as my Lit teacher today ordered me to start using essay plans.
I will do as she says and see if it helps.
Regardless. Aaaaaaargh.
Right, in response to a recent blog about time, no, there is not enough time. There is simply not enough time in the day to do anything.
I get up at 6:30, I go to bed about 11:30, and there is still not enough time in the day to do anything. Partially, I blame procrastination. But considering there’s 17 hours in the day still, I think I should probably be able to fit an hour’s procrastination in. I have homework, I have cooking, I have (few) chores, I have college. That’s not that much to do. But when you add in SEEING YOUR FRIENDS AND BOYFRIEND ONCE IN A WHILE - something I don’t think is that unreasonable - and having sleep, then all of a sudden it becomes utterly ridiculous. And at the moment it’s the one thing that’s driving me bonkers because of the stress it causes, which in turn causes lack of sleep, which causes tiredness, which causes less time to do things, and oh my god it’s a vicious circle that will surely never end! We are all trapped in it and we can’t admit it to ourselves because we don’t have the time to!
I really do think that’s why people go insane. Because there is not enough time.
This is, of course, neither a reasonable nor well thought out argument. It is a rant, and meant to be taken as such. I would be happy to extend it further at some point, but it seems unlikely.
Because I won’t have enough time.
“They want to drain his bile through a hole in his stomach. Is that alright with you?”
Um, it doesn’t really bother me, but I get the point?
“Your ringtone stinks. Get a new one!”
… Cheers.
“Calculate the name of your perfect lover!”
So that when I meet them I can freak them out by going “OH MY GOD IT’S YOU I HAVE THE MARRIAGE PAPERS READY!”
“What if he got you pregnant!”
What if he didn’t? (he being the male from the new ‘Knocked Up’ film, a man I’m sure should recognise with terrifying hair.
“Create your Zwinky!”
… I don’t think I should discuss my zwinky with strangers.
Website adverts. They’re so amusing and yet irksome.
In addition, I’ve finished The Picture of Dorian Gray, and found it disturbing and really good. Will have to read again in detail, but it seemed like nothing was explained for the first half and then suddenly it was over. And yet somehow that was really good. The characters were believable and fun, and it had some sparkling dialogue.
I look forward to dissecting it for Eng Lit, then… ¬.¬
Oh, and my Shakespearean Insulter would like to tell you that you are an “elvish-mark’d, abortive, root-ing hog”!
Abs x
How can it be seen as humane to deport a young man of 19 or indeed a younger man of 17 back to a country where they will be tortured and shot, when they are hardworking citizens who have not commited any crime except wanting to survive, and who have jobs and (the older one) pay taxes, and have a loving family who can’t bear the thought of losing these people because they were born somewhere where free will is not allowed?
If my cousins are deported, I shall go shit crazy and chain myself to Downing Street. That is all.
Abs x
ETA: Ta, Loup.
PERIODS = NOT FUN.
Yes, let’s kill all the baby chicks. Because that will certainly save the world from all its problems, such as global warming, extreme poverty, and many other diseases. But hey, at least we’ll still be able to eat chicken.
I’m not saying it’s not a real disease, I’m very glad we’re all trying to do something about it. But sometimes it seems like the world just needs a scapegoat, and with all the world attempting to hide from The Environmental Issues that are everywhere you look these days, it seems lovely and convienient that the governments of the world suddenly have a reason to look as though they’re doing something.
Some of us haven’t forgotten. And no amount of roast turkey is going to wipe our minds.
Abs x
WARNING: This rant is not for the squeamish, or the males, or the squeamish males. It is all about periods and menstruation, written by a period-suffering female. It may also contain sexist or feminist comments that the author would not normally make. The author accepts absoultely no complaints, negative feedback or trauma that comes from this rant, especially if it comes from a fucking bloke, because now is not the fucking time, alright?
CUT, to spare your innocent eyes.
For one moment, let’s pretend there’s a god, because frankly, we need a scapegoat.
God: Hallo, I’m God.
Women of the World: Wow, you’ve really bollocksed us up, haven’t you?
God: I’m so-
Women of the World: *PUNCH GOD IN THE FACE*
Women are the ones who have to get pregnant and give birth. Women have to grow breasts. Women have to wear bras. During puberty, women have to endure all sorts of snide comments in PE. Women have to be viewed as sex objects or freaks of nature. Women may be more intelligent or even stronger - they may also not - but they are still incapable of a) dealing with spiders, b) changing a lightbulb or c) having a bath for 3 days a month.
Know why?
The Crimson Tide. Sounds like a Steven King or Jeffrey Deaver novel, doesn’t it? Well, if it did, the blurb might go something along the lines of
“Fiesti Herowyn has it all - the perfect hardhitting crimefighting job, the perfect sharptalking boyfriend, the perfect life. But something is stirring in the shadows of Fiesti’s womb. And once the Crimson Tide strikes - she can forget wearing those nice white knickers.”
Periods. They hurt like fuck, over 70% of women who get them don’t want children at that time, so why do we need them? So that the men can have something else to feel superior about? No, I’ll tell you why we have them. Because women need to bitch.
It’s an established fact. Leave two women alone for long enough and eventually one of them will start to bitch or whine. It’s centuries of oppression inbuilt, combined with the everyday toils of human life, that gives us this need to complain. But whenever a man tries to join in, we don’t necessarily want to talk about it. Again, the mistrust of centuries. So what do we do? We pick a subject they can’t relate to - possibly even feel slightly guilty for being unable to relate to - and don’t want to.
But hell, how they hurt. And the worst thing is that it never stops. There’s PRE menstrual tension, POST menstrual tension, and just plain old DURING menstrual tension. And you can’t postpone it and say ‘Oh, I’m in a play this week, can I have it on Saturday?’ Nope, sorry Madam, your white costume will have to go slightly red at the back. (This happened to me once. It also happened with a pair of jeans. In public.) If your lunar cycle is uneven, you can never tell when it’s going to start, and therefore are often walking around with sticky red knickers that will need a thorough wash and disinfectant by HAND, and, worse, sticky red thighs. In PE. Not nice.
And then there’s the choice of things to do about it. Pads or tampons? Oh, so difficult to choose… shall I go for the large obstructive one that rubs against my genitals, causing a constant sense of irritation, itching, and pain, whilst being obvious through the trousers, or the little stick of cotton wool to shove up my fanny?
I hate that word, fanny. I much prefer cunt, but everyone else hates it. What is the proper thing to use these days? Vagina sounds so bloody clinical, and pussy’s just disgusting. Why am I even discussing this?
And the smell! Don’t even get me started on the smell! Just suffice to say I’m not meant to have a sense of smell and just ICK ICK UGH.
And the MEN DON’T HAVE TO HAVE IT. This is the worst thing about it. Men cannot even begin to think about - to concieve how bad this is. I once discussed it with someone who said “Ah, but men get inappropriate erections, and at least girls can hide periods.” Believe me, other girls do notice you’re on, so we get the flack from our own gender, and no girl’s going to be looking at your crotch anyway. If they did, they wouldn’t notice. Honest.
And they heighten your emotions, leaving you even more frustrated and angry and emotional than normal. When you’re a hormonal teenager, that’s a very bad thing. And you can’t go around saying “I’m sorry for screaming, I’m on my period.”
EVEN God hates periods. He thinks they’re unclean. According to the bible, you must not touch a women whilst she’s on. “But if a man be just, and do that which is lawful and right, and hath not … come near to a menstruous woman…..”
So if even the bloody Creator disowns them, how is it fair that we can’t?
God: Ow! I dink you bwoke by dose!
Women of the World: Ha! You ethereal bastard!
God: What did I ever hypothetically do to you?
Women of the World: Oh, I dunno, little something to do with menstruation?
God: …eh?
Women of the World: Periods!
God: EWWWWI’MNOTLISTENINGGIRLSTUFFEWWWFINGERSINEARSEWWWEWWEWW!
Satan?
Satan: Don’t look at me!
And these bloody ridiculous patronising sanitary towel packets. ‘Always’ not only have interesting and FUN FACTS for you to read whilst you’re sellotaping more bits of tissue to your knickers, such as “During your period, you are more beautiful!” and “Chocolate is good whilst you’re on your period because it releases endorphins!”, but now they have hit rock bottom.
My pads now say “Have a happy period!” They even provide a French translation. “Bonne et hereuse semaine!”
What the shit. I bet their advertising person is a man.
Their WEBSITE, however,is even better. This allows me, should I so wish, to send an e-card to my friends wishing them a happy period too! But this… this really just takes the biscuit. Empowering, they call it.
You see what I mean when I say that it is not easy being a woman. As I speak, more bloody eggs that I don’t intend to use are preparing to shed more blood. That’s the grossest thing.
“Why are you so crabby today?” Er, hello, my vagina is fucking bleeding? If a bloke’s penis started bleeding, he’d be down the hospital like a shot, whinging and crying in a manly fashion. Women? Oh, yes, let their groins drip blood everywhere, as long as they’re quiet about it.
“I don’t trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn’t die.” - Mr Garrison, South Park.
I can totally see where he’s coming from. No other animals do it, you know, they just menstruate without the periods. Brilliant idea.
I think I’ll be a zebra.
FUCK. PERIODS.
Abs x
