Monday, 22 June 2009

I Like... My Dad / Father’s Day

I’m yet to have my rebellious stage so I like celebrating my Dad. I’m 19 and it still hasn’t happened. It’s probably down to “Middle Child Syndrome” where you’re the peace keeper who avoids confrontation and in the process of doing so are somewhat forgotten about by the rest of the family. Consequently, you end up belatedly rebelling and fuck up your life many years on from adolescence when there’s much more at stake. Destroying your entire adult life is likely; you’ll probably screw up a significant other in the process, or your kids if you’re unlucky enough to have them and perhaps throw away major funds on gambling or drug addiction because you’re old enough and rich enough to rebel in this way, rather than simply sneaking out the house or getting your belly button pierced. So yeah, that’s where I’m heading.

My Dad’s difficult. I was browsing through a newspaper with gift ideas for Father’s Day. Luckily they had generated some stereotypical Dad categories: the “gadget mad” dad, the “gastro dad” (I think that means your father is on the brink of becoming alcohol dependent but you choose to view it as a loveable quirk and allow him to drink himself into oblivion most nights just so that you don’t have to interact with him – just guessing) and the “sporty dad” (golf and football are the only sports out there).

But my Dad fits into none of these categories. He hates novelty items, doesn’t drink, told me that if someone ever phoned a radio station to make a song dedication to him he would never acknowledge that person again, no longer consumes chocolate (he lives on oats), bloody loves cooking, likes high-quality cotton t-shirts, clear cut lines and “design classics” (which means anything we give him must be ageless and forever pleasing to the eye). But whatever, my Dad is cool. Wuv U Dad-E.
Other family happenings – this is my uber cute little sister Zoe. She loves Lady Gaga so went for a hair bow yesterday (a bold choice when your Nan is coming over for Sunday lunch and is likely to either a) be confused by one’s hairstyle or b) laugh at you for it). She doesn’t normally look like she’s been raped by Gwen Stefani but our older sister bought us some Hello Kitty trading cards because she knows we’re morons and totally love colourful, useless, Japanese shit. They’re our new must-have item.

Thursday, 18 June 2009

I Hate... Not Being Cool / "I got the sucker"



Cool.

Michael Jackson wearing Balmain all over. Cool.

Kate Moss writhing around on a sticky stage at Cafe De Paris. Cool.

Wednesday, 10 June 2009

I Hate... Obligations of youth / "I was never young. This idea of fun: cars, girls, Saturday night, bottle of wine... To me, these things are morbid.”

After paying a visit to Cardiff this week to visit a friend studying there, and reliving the undesirable lifestyle that is being a university student, it brought back memories of the very long few weeks I spent at Southampton University back in October. I dry wretch just thinking about it *dry wretch*

I just do not get it. What is the appeal of student life? I am to begin a degree in English Language and Literature in September at Reading University in September but will NOT be living in student accommodation. I received an email from a Reading administration tutor a while ago telling me that by commuting to university, and therefore not 100% committing to student existence; I am “missing out on an important part of university life.” Is it possible to achieve good grades and obtain a degree without living on site? Yes. So shove your accommodation up your arse.

Here is why student living makes me want to curl up into the foetal position and cry.

1) Being a pauper – so you’re neck-deep in debt yet you still choose to waste the hard earned cash mummy and daddy continually pump into your account, who are hoping and praying you’ll come out the other side a success, on what essential items? Lame fancy dress materials (to make a hilarious costume I’m sure), Che Guevara posters and personalized sweatshirts. I hate that people seem to think being given a monthly living allowance is some kind of God-given right rather than a privilege. And by the way, you know all those cheap-ass, nasty, novelty clothing items you but from Primark for your weekly fancy dress nights out? Not only are you wasting your parents’ money you’re killing women and children in sweat shops. Have a fun night out though, LOLZ!


2) Malnutrition – by committing to university living, one of two options is an inevitability: a) you’ll celebrate your new found freedom by eating whatever your heart desires and become horrendously fat or b) you’ll decide food is a waste of time and money (which you haven’t got anyway) and live on soft cereal and Tesco brand vodka. Of the housemates I was made to integrate with their eating habits haunt me to this day; one computer science loser who made a feast each night which was more than sufficient for a family of five, plus a hopeless engineering student who concocted nothing but fry-ups, morning, noon and night. I was subject to psychological conditioning akin to Pavlov’s dogs. Whenever I smell a full English breakfast I throw up just a little bit in my mouth.
3) Social Experimentation – this was by far the most harrowing aspect of my flirtation with student existence: being made to live with specimens who you wouldn’t even consider offering your last Rolo to. Why would anyone want to share a bathroom with strangers? (Anyone who doesn’t have a problem with this is sick.) I am not prepared to make polite, small talk, pretend to care where you’re from or feign interest in the pointless subject you’re studying (Oceanography was big in my accommodation). The only memorable conversation I had was with a girl was about the time she met Geri Halliwell at the height of the Girl Power age - even that was spurred on by cheap wine. And don’t even get me started on the dire day that I found myself at a bus stop being subjected to a discussion about “one’s favourite Shakespeare sonnet.” Fuck and off.
4) Supposed Sexual Liberation – it seems that many set themselves the wholly unrealistic goal of becoming the Caligula of their university town. You know your body and its appeal are no different to what it was in your home county right? I recall being in an awkward social situation with a girl (who was by all measures an introverted geek) who seemed amiable. Yet two cheap shots later and she was dry humping a sofa to the soundtrack of Fatman Scoop, simply because she could. By all means, go ahead with the debauchery, just don’t try to make the regrettable, sloppy sex you had with an equally desperate loser sound enviable. We all know it was shit and you ended up doing the walk of shame in your fluro shiny leggings – now encrusted with vomit – which seemed like such a great idea at the student union’s Tight and Bright rave last night. You’re officially a disgrace.
I know these are all things that as a teenager I’m meant to enjoy but nothing makes me roll my eyes with boredom more. I think excessive alcohol consumption is a waste of time and money; your liver deserves to dissolve inside of you if you think it makes you a more interesting or entertaining person.

Shout out to anyone starting the same course as me in September - I do want to be your friend just don't talk to me about the wacky and downright CRAZY things you think you remember doing last night.


Please note: the pictures used are of my friends - I just wanted to break up the text. LOVE YA

Monday, 8 June 2009

I Hate... Ill advised career moves / Hey Y'all!

Gimme More was such an atrotious excuse for a song and video it really could have benefitted from these "unseen" topless takes. Check those nipple tattoo transfers.

Britney Spears - I love you.

Saturday, 6 June 2009

I Like... Boats / "Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand"

I’m so glad my older sister has social skills. Social skills mean that you come into contact with other people. And sometimes you’ll come across interesting people, or funny people, or better yet, people with boats.
Lucky for me, I managed to mustle in on a boating trip last weekend. I’ve always thought I belonged at sea. I don’t get seasick and I like sailor outfits. It all adds up.
We sailed from Gosport (an odd town stuck in the 80s with fine dining establishments such as The Garlic Cafe and the anomaly of a huge marina) to the Isle of Wight. I just avoided a collision with another boat whilst at the helm on the way and almost threw the only person with sailing skills overboard on the way back (I got a little overly zealous with revving the engine).

I want a boat of my own.