WHOA HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN AGES. Manz has been busy with a new job here. I'm quite enjoying it so far, not much to rant about yet. Oh, apart from the fact that we're a solely second-hand retailer; not that in itself so much, but did you know that we sell porn? Yep. Second-hand porn. Srs, I try very hard to be completely nonchalant towards all the customers, no matter how shit the game/film/phone they're buying is, but when some nasty old Asian bloke with a ponytail and a lazy eye sidles up to the counter with "NASTY BRAZILIAN SLUTS 4" in his hand I can't help but be a lil bit sick in my mouth. For this reason, I keep a bottle of hand-sanitising gel next to my tillbank at all times. Ergh, semen.
Anyway, semen aside, I thought I would tell all of my fans what I've done in the past few days; they've been rather unfortunate, and I'm sure that the thousands of warped minds who so clearly read my blog in secret every day want to hear about it.
Aite, so our story starts with the Coventry-ese/ite band Bolt Thrower; if you don't know them and are partial to a little steam-rollering death metal now and again, download nao. Word got round of a tour; soon turned out they were playing London ULU. Now, far be it from me to be a snob, but ULU is fucking SHIT. Everything about it is SHIT. It's a student bar, so it's full of check-shirted arseholes with 2ft plugs wandering aroound trying to show off their neck tattoos; which obviously contributes to it being shit. It's just a shit venue. It has no ambience whatsoever; it's like being in a library with a bar. Oh, and did I mention that the bar staff are students, hence meaning you have to wait about 20 minutes to actually get served, and when do get served, your pint is 89% frothy. Which is obviously not the correct head/beer ratio. All this angst aside, however, BT were playing there, so obvioulsy I couldn't bitch.
Oh, but I can. You see, Bolt Thrower have been a band for about 24 years; hence, they have quite a large following. ULU has a capacity of about four, plus the 30million students who hang out there to look cool. So obviously, the gig sold out. Perhaps I should've booked a ticket sooner; but no. I can assure you that there was NOTHING I COULD'VE DONE to stem the pure gutrotting evil that stems from that venue.
SO yeah. Decided to go down to fair Birmingham (LOL) to go and see the band in their home town, in an undoubtedly better venue, and with fewer trendy twats. All was well; booked train/gig tickets etc, got down there in time, got a t-shirt (HAHAAAA SCREW YOU PEOPLE THAT AREN'T COOL ENOUGH TO HAVE BT MERCH), watched one of the support bands (Benediction, if you care. They were alright, bit lacklustre) and then, suddenly... I realised it was 10.15pm. 10.15pm?!?! What support band leaves the headliner 45 minutes to play a set, I thought in an angry protaganist voice? OH... Right. I'm not in London. There is no ridiculous noise curfew here. Ah. Right. My train comes in half an hour. Bolt Thrower won't be on for another 20 minutes at least. Ah.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
Thankfully, the friend I was with had a friend at the gig who said we could stay at his house. I deliberated for a bit, seeing as I had work the next day and I didn't want to turn up smelling of Birmingham and a gig, but in the end decided there was no was I was watching 15 minutes of the band I had travelled 2052935 miles and paid £30 in train tickets to see.
Obviously Bolt Thrower shat all over my ears and filled me with glee, no surprises there (nb: at this point I'd like to interject and just say that nobody from Birmingham understands sarcasm or irony. Is that a northern thing in general? Please send replies. I'm concerned). Went to get my coat etc, had a smoke outside whilst waiting for this dude to get out and take us back to his abode in deep Leamington Spa territory.
Fifteen minutes later and my pal and are I a bit confused. So he calls his friend... And he's already in the car home. The drunk bastard didn't realise we were coming back with him. At this point it's about half midnight. Trains from Birmingham - London cease running at 23:23 (and that train stops at an airport for like, four hours. SO FUCK THAT SHIT). Proper screwed, init.
Lots of hilarity ensued (sort of). We ended up roaming around Birmingham New Street from then until 5:30 in the morning for the first train. It was cold, slightly raining, and worst of all, up north. We spent about an hour and a half trying to find a 24-hour McDonalds that my friend had DEFINITELY been to last time he was in Brum at 2 in the morning; we eventually found it, and it was closed. We proceeded to sit on some sort of joke cast-iron bull statue in the middle of a shopping complex (which, I am also going to point out, was definitely not engineered for climbing on. Wtf is that shit? It was also not very comfortable, and it's anus was far too realistic) until it got too cold/wet, bought some shit magazines (you know, "MY MUM ATE MY SISTER'S FACE" "I GAVE BIRTH TO A TRANSGENDER SWAN" etc) and considered ways to kill ourself in the station waiting room for another three hours.
I arrived back in the loving bosom of Watford Junction at 7:30am; went home, slept for an hour, then went to work. Until 7pm. I started writing this on that said day, but unfortunately I died and failed to compelte my works. I was miraculously resurrected from the dead this morning in order to go to work, but unfortunately I believe this is only a temporary resurrection and I will most probably die in the next few hours.
You slags.
In conclusion: Fuck ULU. Don't go to Birmingham. If you do, ensure you take someone who has the endurance to give you a piggy back all the way back to London.
BEARZ HAS NO REREVANCE!
Friday, 7 May 2010
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Don't read this, it's self-pitying turd.
NO! That was not a joke, that was a warning. I haven't written in a while and I feel a
song gay ramble coming on, you know. Same shit as always. If you don't enjoy reading that sort of worthless wank-tripe then go and watch this amusing video instead [insert your favourite viral YouTube hit here].
Right, so I'm quite aware that most teenagers apparently go through this self-discovery phase; the "WHO AM I?!? WHERE AM I?" shit. I think I'm in that right now, and I'm getting quite bored of it to be frank. My moods go up and down like the village bike's knickers (which I'm sure can be attributed to hormones or something...) and I seem to be in a constant state of :/. And tbh, I cba irl. I'm so fucking tired of waiting for someone to come along and tell me what to do; I pride myself on being "independent" or some bollocks like that, but I'm being really fucking shit at that at the moment. In life we're sort of taught (I dunno, just looking for someone to blame and going for the obvious scapegoats - teachers/parents) that no matter how bad everything is, everything will "fall into place" eventually. WHAT FUCKING PLACE? I've been waiting for about 7 years to work shit out, and I do realise I'm only (insert age here) but ffs. Is there an average age for when that happens? Does it differ with heritage/intelligence? HELP ME. FUCKING PLEASE. AWHFGLSKDHNVKS
(I did warn you)
I'm also getting bored of sitting on the internet writing rhetorical questions to myself. H-AAAAALLOW.
Right, so I'm quite aware that most teenagers apparently go through this self-discovery phase; the "WHO AM I?!? WHERE AM I?" shit. I think I'm in that right now, and I'm getting quite bored of it to be frank. My moods go up and down like the village bike's knickers (which I'm sure can be attributed to hormones or something...) and I seem to be in a constant state of :/. And tbh, I cba irl. I'm so fucking tired of waiting for someone to come along and tell me what to do; I pride myself on being "independent" or some bollocks like that, but I'm being really fucking shit at that at the moment. In life we're sort of taught (I dunno, just looking for someone to blame and going for the obvious scapegoats - teachers/parents) that no matter how bad everything is, everything will "fall into place" eventually. WHAT FUCKING PLACE? I've been waiting for about 7 years to work shit out, and I do realise I'm only (insert age here) but ffs. Is there an average age for when that happens? Does it differ with heritage/intelligence? HELP ME. FUCKING PLEASE. AWHFGLSKDHNVKS
(I did warn you)
I'm also getting bored of sitting on the internet writing rhetorical questions to myself. H-AAAAALLOW.
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Teenagers (written 0444am)
Teenagers (4:44am, 31/03/10)
We're gonna clean up ya looks with all the lies in the books... Only kidding. Don't make me sick.
Teenagers are a fucked up little group of humans really. Grown-ups always say that these are the best years of our life (insert apology for using hackneyed cliche here) but I appear to have spent the entire six years I've had a 'teen' suffix on my age worrying about stuff and eating junk food. I wonder if it really was different growing up in the 40s, 50s, etc etc. Kids today seem to be under a lot of pressure to perform and make decisions that will affect the rest of their lives; but surely it's always sort of been like that? The point I raise is that that's fucking stupid. Being told to make decisions that basically predict what sort of future you're going to have seems a trifle unresponsible. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I was 15 I would've quite happily said all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was smoke pot and watch family guy and listen to Korn. Three years down the line and my perspective is quite different. I think I can safely say I've changed my mind regarding what I want to "do" in life about 3 times a week since then (sorry to butt in here, but for any of you that enjoy rock/metal music and don't know the band already, download the "Come, Reap" EP by The Devil's Blood RIGHT NAO. Turn off the lights, put on a red dress and light a stick of incense. Aaaand marvel. That is all. Please continue) and still continue to change my mind as frequently; I'm 18 in two months. Surely now I'm of an age where most people can say they have some sort of idea what they want to do/are interested in/good at. Well, I have no idea. At all. Not the foggiest. Information overload has also affected education - on the few occasions I've sought advice from those lovable retards at Connexions (why spell it like that? :/) I've come away even more confused than I was already. Which is saying something.
If you are an avid reader of my ramblings, you will know that most of them are full of AARGH WHAT SHALL I DO? AND WHY SHOULD I DO IT? AND HOW WOULD I GO ABOUT DOING IT? AND WHY IS EVERYTHING SO SHIT? type stuff. Alas, the countless lists don't seem to have helped. A lot of people say I should 'write'. Write what though? I'm too picky to be a critic, too scatterbrained to write novels, not clever enough to write non-fiction, and don't care enough about local issues to work at a newspaper.
SO WTF? *bangs head against keyboard*
Sorry, this entry is a bit shit. But tbh it's 4:44am and I'm in a terrible mood. Not terrible enough to write an emo blog, because I'm not pissed off enough about a particular subject to dedicate an entire entry to it. Essentially, if you have any suggestions, now is the time to er, suggest them, o great one. WHADDOIDO?
I NEED TO INSURE MY FUCKING MOTORBIKE.
The fact that there are people out there who'd wipe their arse with 500 quid makes me want to stick forks in my fucking eyes. Right now I'd probably cut off one of my toes for that amount of money. Srsly. Considering robbing a fatcat right now, not gonna lie. Although I'd make a shit burglar, I'd probably get distracted by the family cat and get caught trying to smuggle a bag of crisps into my pocket or something. Stupid rustling.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEED SLEEP.
P.S. 9 years has gone remarkably quickly. How has that happened? How was I eight that short a period of time ago? Fucking hell. Be grateful that you can't miss me as much as I miss you, dead man.
P.P.S. Fuck daylight saving. Stealing an hour of my life. Who the fuck thought of that? Seriously? WTF.
P.P.P.S. I know daylight saving was like, two days ago, but whatever. It doesn't suck any less. You lost an hour too. Imagine what you could've done with that extra hour. Yeah. Exactly.
P.P.P.P.S. I meant what I said about download The Devil's Blood. You're missing out. While you're at it download The Graveyard Shuffle and The Time Of No Time Evermore. GUYS SRSLY
P.P.P.P.P.S. Last one, go watch Kick-Ass. Saw it at the weekend, it is totally AWESOME. I think I might pull an all nighter (all dayer?). I might even tidy my room. Shit.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. ...Nah only kidding, you can go now. Although... I'd like to ask why you fuckers never comment? I include plenty of rhetorical questions for you to attempt to answer. You can even be anonymous, ffs. HELP ME OUT HERE.
We're gonna clean up ya looks with all the lies in the books... Only kidding. Don't make me sick.
Teenagers are a fucked up little group of humans really. Grown-ups always say that these are the best years of our life (insert apology for using hackneyed cliche here) but I appear to have spent the entire six years I've had a 'teen' suffix on my age worrying about stuff and eating junk food. I wonder if it really was different growing up in the 40s, 50s, etc etc. Kids today seem to be under a lot of pressure to perform and make decisions that will affect the rest of their lives; but surely it's always sort of been like that? The point I raise is that that's fucking stupid. Being told to make decisions that basically predict what sort of future you're going to have seems a trifle unresponsible. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I was 15 I would've quite happily said all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was smoke pot and watch family guy and listen to Korn. Three years down the line and my perspective is quite different. I think I can safely say I've changed my mind regarding what I want to "do" in life about 3 times a week since then (sorry to butt in here, but for any of you that enjoy rock/metal music and don't know the band already, download the "Come, Reap" EP by The Devil's Blood RIGHT NAO. Turn off the lights, put on a red dress and light a stick of incense. Aaaand marvel. That is all. Please continue) and still continue to change my mind as frequently; I'm 18 in two months. Surely now I'm of an age where most people can say they have some sort of idea what they want to do/are interested in/good at. Well, I have no idea. At all. Not the foggiest. Information overload has also affected education - on the few occasions I've sought advice from those lovable retards at Connexions (why spell it like that? :/) I've come away even more confused than I was already. Which is saying something.
If you are an avid reader of my ramblings, you will know that most of them are full of AARGH WHAT SHALL I DO? AND WHY SHOULD I DO IT? AND HOW WOULD I GO ABOUT DOING IT? AND WHY IS EVERYTHING SO SHIT? type stuff. Alas, the countless lists don't seem to have helped. A lot of people say I should 'write'. Write what though? I'm too picky to be a critic, too scatterbrained to write novels, not clever enough to write non-fiction, and don't care enough about local issues to work at a newspaper.
SO WTF? *bangs head against keyboard*
Sorry, this entry is a bit shit. But tbh it's 4:44am and I'm in a terrible mood. Not terrible enough to write an emo blog, because I'm not pissed off enough about a particular subject to dedicate an entire entry to it. Essentially, if you have any suggestions, now is the time to er, suggest them, o great one. WHADDOIDO?
I NEED TO INSURE MY FUCKING MOTORBIKE.
The fact that there are people out there who'd wipe their arse with 500 quid makes me want to stick forks in my fucking eyes. Right now I'd probably cut off one of my toes for that amount of money. Srsly. Considering robbing a fatcat right now, not gonna lie. Although I'd make a shit burglar, I'd probably get distracted by the family cat and get caught trying to smuggle a bag of crisps into my pocket or something. Stupid rustling.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NEED SLEEP.
P.S. 9 years has gone remarkably quickly. How has that happened? How was I eight that short a period of time ago? Fucking hell. Be grateful that you can't miss me as much as I miss you, dead man.
P.P.S. Fuck daylight saving. Stealing an hour of my life. Who the fuck thought of that? Seriously? WTF.
P.P.P.S. I know daylight saving was like, two days ago, but whatever. It doesn't suck any less. You lost an hour too. Imagine what you could've done with that extra hour. Yeah. Exactly.
P.P.P.P.S. I meant what I said about download The Devil's Blood. You're missing out. While you're at it download The Graveyard Shuffle and The Time Of No Time Evermore. GUYS SRSLY
P.P.P.P.P.S. Last one, go watch Kick-Ass. Saw it at the weekend, it is totally AWESOME. I think I might pull an all nighter (all dayer?). I might even tidy my room. Shit.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. ...Nah only kidding, you can go now. Although... I'd like to ask why you fuckers never comment? I include plenty of rhetorical questions for you to attempt to answer. You can even be anonymous, ffs. HELP ME OUT HERE.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Remember
Always remember that the world doesn't owe you anything, or run the risk of becoming lost in your own foolishness.
Monday, 22 March 2010
Motherfuckers
No money, can't get a job, can't get into college, can't be bothered to spend another 7 years in education for something I probably don't want to do, can't be bothered to wait, can't be bothered to humiliate myself further. Isn't it shit when you've got no-one to blame but yourself? Ah, life.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Tangent Pt.1
SORRY SORRY, I will finish the oh-so-liberating rant about man and woman, but first I need to devise my LIFE ACTION PLAN! (cough... cough...)
1. Right, so I fucked up all my GCSEs at school. This was probably not a good idea, but I can pass this off on being emotionally disturbed and my whole "I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING UNTIL I'VE EXPERIENCED IT FOR MYSELF" ideology. Also the fact that I didn't fail due to being an academic retard, just a life retard... (This may seem off point, but keep in mind).
2. I decided about a week ago that I most definitely wanted to be a mechanic and do an apprenticeship. Odd choice for a 5ft girl with small hands, you may say. Well, yes. I went for an interview at a garage and the fucking cunt manager just stared at my tits the whole time. Plus, I don't actually give a shit about cars, only bikes. So sorry, "Skillnet" - I was wrong. I actually don't want to fix cars.
3. However, I still want to learn how to fix bikes; Only maybe not as a permanent job type thing. SO, I have deduced (thank you, internet) that I could possibly do a part time course in Motor Vehicle Repair & Maintenence (motorcycle award) at Kensington & Chelsea college. Sounds good no?
4. However (II), I most probably don't want to be a mechanic for the rest of my life, because as you all know, I am intellectually gifted etc... And I do quite like writing stuff. Hence, I should probably get some solid qualifications, no? Refer to point number one. I have 3 GCSEs; and one would assume upon the results that I was fairly good at maths, alright at science, and really fucking shit at English. Which is obviously wrong. (Fun fact for you here; I got something like 80 marks out of 82 in my English Literature exam, but because Edexcel are cunts and I didn't bother doing any coursework, the fucking bastards gave me a U. FUCK YOU EDEXCEL. I FUCKING HATE YOU). SO, we can deduce from this information that I cannot do a levels (or preferrably the International Baccalaureate) at a standard college, unless I redo my GCSEs. Now, far be it from me to think that GCSEs are pointless/shit/stupidly easy, but I refuse to spend another year of my life studying stuff that I already know, to take exams I could pass now with minimal revision/effort. BUT! IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY IS IT?!?!?!?! Of course not. Fuck you, government. Fuck you, money. I could take my GCSEs online with ICS; do you know how much that costs? £249.00. Ah. Aye, there's the nub... So, I'm in a bit of a situation...
5. I didn't really need this to be an extra point, but I felt like point 4 was getting a bit long, and I know you fuckers get bored easily because you are simple minded and weak (I never said that!) so I thought I'd separate a bit. Erm, where was I? Oh yeah. So I want to do this IB thing, because quite frankly it sounds fucking awesome - http://www.stanmore.ac.uk/News/IB_Courses.asp - BUT for that you need "a strong profile of GCSE results, typically seven subjects at grade B or above". FFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
6. My options at the moment therefore look something like this: A) Fuck education, get job at supermarket and stay there for rest of life. Educate self through reading Plato and Germaine Greer books. Quote Kafka to people as they walk past my aisle. B) Pay £1,000 to do four GCSEs, get A* in all of them. Do part time bike mechanics course at Ken & Chelsea. Do IB, get amazing grades, go to Oxford, be the brightest/most forward-thinking English student in the history of time. Write books, get money, travel word, have fast/loud bikes, be attractive untill some time in 2050, then die from choking on gold-plated smoked salmon nibbles.
Who wants to lend me a grand?
1. Right, so I fucked up all my GCSEs at school. This was probably not a good idea, but I can pass this off on being emotionally disturbed and my whole "I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING UNTIL I'VE EXPERIENCED IT FOR MYSELF" ideology. Also the fact that I didn't fail due to being an academic retard, just a life retard... (This may seem off point, but keep in mind).
2. I decided about a week ago that I most definitely wanted to be a mechanic and do an apprenticeship. Odd choice for a 5ft girl with small hands, you may say. Well, yes. I went for an interview at a garage and the fucking cunt manager just stared at my tits the whole time. Plus, I don't actually give a shit about cars, only bikes. So sorry, "Skillnet" - I was wrong. I actually don't want to fix cars.
3. However, I still want to learn how to fix bikes; Only maybe not as a permanent job type thing. SO, I have deduced (thank you, internet) that I could possibly do a part time course in Motor Vehicle Repair & Maintenence (motorcycle award) at Kensington & Chelsea college. Sounds good no?
4. However (II), I most probably don't want to be a mechanic for the rest of my life, because as you all know, I am intellectually gifted etc... And I do quite like writing stuff. Hence, I should probably get some solid qualifications, no? Refer to point number one. I have 3 GCSEs; and one would assume upon the results that I was fairly good at maths, alright at science, and really fucking shit at English. Which is obviously wrong. (Fun fact for you here; I got something like 80 marks out of 82 in my English Literature exam, but because Edexcel are cunts and I didn't bother doing any coursework, the fucking bastards gave me a U. FUCK YOU EDEXCEL. I FUCKING HATE YOU). SO, we can deduce from this information that I cannot do a levels (or preferrably the International Baccalaureate) at a standard college, unless I redo my GCSEs. Now, far be it from me to think that GCSEs are pointless/shit/stupidly easy, but I refuse to spend another year of my life studying stuff that I already know, to take exams I could pass now with minimal revision/effort. BUT! IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY IS IT?!?!?!?! Of course not. Fuck you, government. Fuck you, money. I could take my GCSEs online with ICS; do you know how much that costs? £249.00. Ah. Aye, there's the nub... So, I'm in a bit of a situation...
5. I didn't really need this to be an extra point, but I felt like point 4 was getting a bit long, and I know you fuckers get bored easily because you are simple minded and weak (I never said that!) so I thought I'd separate a bit. Erm, where was I? Oh yeah. So I want to do this IB thing, because quite frankly it sounds fucking awesome - http://www.stanmore.ac.uk/News/IB_Courses.asp - BUT for that you need "a strong profile of GCSE results, typically seven subjects at grade B or above". FFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
6. My options at the moment therefore look something like this: A) Fuck education, get job at supermarket and stay there for rest of life. Educate self through reading Plato and Germaine Greer books. Quote Kafka to people as they walk past my aisle. B) Pay £1,000 to do four GCSEs, get A* in all of them. Do part time bike mechanics course at Ken & Chelsea. Do IB, get amazing grades, go to Oxford, be the brightest/most forward-thinking English student in the history of time. Write books, get money, travel word, have fast/loud bikes, be attractive untill some time in 2050, then die from choking on gold-plated smoked salmon nibbles.
Who wants to lend me a grand?
Friday, 19 March 2010
Feminism
Feminism
Yes, it's gay. Yes, it's a subject mostly frequented by lumberjack-looking dykes who hate men. But this is a subject that is very important to me, and should be (but unfortunately, is not) important to all the other women inhabiting planet earth.
Being a woman in the 21st century is quite a strange concept. We've gone through the whole votes for women, women's lib, burn your bras, I WILL NOT BE A HOUSEWIFE bollocks, and now womankind is in this strange forward/backward place. As a young woman, I can safely say about 99% of my kind make me either want to become a Eunuch or just bury my face in the nearest face-buriable object thing. For an example, take Watford on a Friday night. Lads are all dressed somewhat respectably; shirts and jeans, clean shoes, clean face, blah blah blah. But, to see a girl without her legs, and/or breasts out, and not covered in orange slap/bits of horse extension, is a rare sight. I felt like some sort of aids-ridden leper walking into Area (which shall henceforth be referred to as "a shithole") wearing black (SHOCK) jeans and a tshirt. Slags and lads were actually full on staring at me. I would also here like to reference the trash tv show Snog Marry Avoid (a guilty pleasure, I have to admit), on which a young lady of orange-extension'd persuasion said that going out of the house in trousers was like a 'sin or somefink'. (I facepalm'd). Why do other girls of my age take such pride in demoralising themselves and pitying those who don't demoralise themselves? Why do they take pride in looking like complete tarts? Why are tarts even a thing? The age old question of "Why, if a guy should choose to shag several women, is he a legend, and if a woman chose to shag several guys, a slag?" rings rather true here. If a bloke wears a pair of shorts in summer, nobody gives a shit. In summer, women get leered at from every angle if they choose to wear shorts and a vest top. Why? I can't blame men (it would be easy to, and believe me, I have a huge argument against them..) because women so readily accept the stigma placed upon them as pretty objects. If I had access to the internet at the time of writing this preach-rant-ting then I would do some research nito the origins of man and woman, and when the separation of what is 'man' and 'woman' came about. Obviously we're different; but why have the differences evolved in the way that they have?
I find it disgusting that women have to be scared to walk home alone in the dark, in fear of some mental rapist or coming across a group of pissed lads. It's vile that (SOME) men take advantage of woman's physical weakness; You don't ever hear the story of a full grown woman stalking a man home and raping him, do you?
To be continued
Yes, it's gay. Yes, it's a subject mostly frequented by lumberjack-looking dykes who hate men. But this is a subject that is very important to me, and should be (but unfortunately, is not) important to all the other women inhabiting planet earth.
Being a woman in the 21st century is quite a strange concept. We've gone through the whole votes for women, women's lib, burn your bras, I WILL NOT BE A HOUSEWIFE bollocks, and now womankind is in this strange forward/backward place. As a young woman, I can safely say about 99% of my kind make me either want to become a Eunuch or just bury my face in the nearest face-buriable object thing. For an example, take Watford on a Friday night. Lads are all dressed somewhat respectably; shirts and jeans, clean shoes, clean face, blah blah blah. But, to see a girl without her legs, and/or breasts out, and not covered in orange slap/bits of horse extension, is a rare sight. I felt like some sort of aids-ridden leper walking into Area (which shall henceforth be referred to as "a shithole") wearing black (SHOCK) jeans and a tshirt. Slags and lads were actually full on staring at me. I would also here like to reference the trash tv show Snog Marry Avoid (a guilty pleasure, I have to admit), on which a young lady of orange-extension'd persuasion said that going out of the house in trousers was like a 'sin or somefink'. (I facepalm'd). Why do other girls of my age take such pride in demoralising themselves and pitying those who don't demoralise themselves? Why do they take pride in looking like complete tarts? Why are tarts even a thing? The age old question of "Why, if a guy should choose to shag several women, is he a legend, and if a woman chose to shag several guys, a slag?" rings rather true here. If a bloke wears a pair of shorts in summer, nobody gives a shit. In summer, women get leered at from every angle if they choose to wear shorts and a vest top. Why? I can't blame men (it would be easy to, and believe me, I have a huge argument against them..) because women so readily accept the stigma placed upon them as pretty objects. If I had access to the internet at the time of writing this preach-rant-ting then I would do some research nito the origins of man and woman, and when the separation of what is 'man' and 'woman' came about. Obviously we're different; but why have the differences evolved in the way that they have?
I find it disgusting that women have to be scared to walk home alone in the dark, in fear of some mental rapist or coming across a group of pissed lads. It's vile that (SOME) men take advantage of woman's physical weakness; You don't ever hear the story of a full grown woman stalking a man home and raping him, do you?
To be continued
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