Tag Archives: sarcasm

Writers Block and Taking Notes from Superman

It’s been over two months since I’ve written anything of substance. The only form of writing I’ve done as of late is texting my best friend to ask her when she would be returning home to give me attention. Just like Justin Bieber, I’m a shell of my former self. I even had to google the word ‘Bieber’ to check I’d spelt it correctly, which might actually be an indication that I’ve not lost the plot quite yet. Like bingo calling or riding a bike, it’s been so long since I’ve done it, I can barely remember how.

On multiple occasions I’ve torn myself away from my beloved Gilmore Girls boxset and bag of doritos to try and document my thought processes and interesting events that have happened to me in recent weeks. I sit at my laptop, fingers poised to write something quirky and relatable with just the faintest hint of indignation when I have the terrible realisation that I have nothing interesting to write about: fascinating tales about spending a Saturday morning with toothpaste in my eye isn’t going to make J.K Rowling start quaking in her boots.

As the self-indulgent fear of leading a mundane life, which can’t be documented in a humorous tone over the internet clouds any desire to blog, I’ve decided to make a change in my life. I’m going to become a better person so that karma helps me win the lottery and attend yacht parties with Taylor Swift. Also, doing good deeds is rewarding, as there’s no greater pleasure in life than being able to help other people, obviously.

First port of call: giving up my seat on public transport. Not to worry, I’m not a complete monster, I already make sure that no elderly people are left clutching their walking stick whilst I stare at the floor and ignore any pangs of guilt. Rather, I plan to broaden my horizons and become the Florence Nightingale of public transport, ready to give up my seat at a moments notice to anyone in need! Not only do I burn extra calories per minute but I also gain a full view of any attractive men on the train that I might accidentally bump into whilst struggling with my tights and cape. Everyone’s a winner!

For now though, I’m so exhausted from all of the thinking about becoming a more fully-functioning human I’ve been doing, that I simply must put myself to bed with a cup of tea and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s good to be back!


Strike a pose. Strike a pose.

“You’re never going to get any dick dressed like that Helen”

It’s always good to have your best friend around to let you know you’re less fashionable than your grandma and have the same amount of sex appeal as a loaf of bread. I always thought I rocked the ‘Mary-Kate Olsen grabbing coffee’ look but sometimes I forget that I’m at least 30lbs heavier and live in the real world.

In my mind the ideal outfit is cheap, comfortable and black. I don’t care for neon, crop tops, hot pants or anything with the word “body-con” in the title and I couldn’t give two shits about Miley Cyrus wearing clothing that almost shows off her vagina. It seems baffling that people spend so much time focusing on changing their outfits rather than their dull personalities.

I might own 10 of the same floral, oversized dresses that will never adorn the pages of Vogue but I have read more than one book by Milan Kundera and know my Harry Potter trivia better than anyone else. Who needs high heels and sex appeal when you have elastic waistbands and macaroni cheese?

What would Katherine Heigl do?

I’m starting to think that I might be a little bit of a twat – if my life were a romantic comedy this would be the point where I have a mental breakdown and drink an entire bottle of vodka whilst crying in bed. I’ve been sick all over myself, accidentally gotten on the train to somewhere an hour away from where I live, lost my month old iPhone and spent all of my wages a week after pay day.

I’m just waiting for the upbeat musical montage where things start to piece themselves together and the beautiful yet quirky leading lady bumps into Hugh Jackman whilst tripping over her own feet. I’m going to apply the rule “what would Katherine Heigl do?” to my life in order to secure the Hollywood happy ending so popular with my favourite cheesy rom-coms. My list of things to do include scrapbooking, regularly attending the gym and reading underneath large trees whilst making friends with adorable looking squirrels.

I’d much rather fast forward to the end of the film where I marry a charming, cardigan-wearing poet and win the lottery. I bet this kind of shit never happens to Keira Knightley

“So everyone, have fun. Because this really is the end of summer”

It’s happening. As soon as the 1st of September hit my senses heightened and immediately I heard the sounds of thousands of people furiously typing various angry emoticons on their Facebook status about the end of summer. Quite frankly I couldn’t be more delighted.

I’m the Grinch, Wednesday Addams and Victor Meldrew all rolled into one. No more insufferable posts about the beach, cocktails during the day or selfies of stick thin girls trying on 10 different bikinis which all look the same. I think I’m going to dedicate an entire day to scarf and mug shopping.

The end is nigh, no longer will I have to go outside and fear for my life in case of a wasp attack or worry whether wearing black tights and a jumper is inappropriate attire for the day. I wait in anticipation for the hundreds of tweets complaining about how “the cold weather sucks balls” and having to, God forbid, wear a coat with their denim shorts that day.

You know what they say: misery loves company and  can’t wait to hear all about it!


“Well, I could make more of an effort to be liked but I’d rather be hated than inconvenienced” Wilhemina Slater

Ring of truth from the original HBIC, Wilhemina Slater. In case you’re a properly functioning human being and don’t know what ‘HBIC’ is it means ‘Head Bitch in Charge.’ I live my life too much on the internet.

This blog post contains a lack of humour and a lot of human emotions

I’m feeling so miserable tonight, like the one girl sitting alone at a party, swigging her drink in the corner just hoping that someone will pay her attention without having to make any effort to be social herself. Perhaps it’s because it’s half 10 and I’m still wearing jeans or shame for having peanut butter on toast for dinner? Also I have a trial shift for a job tomorrow and I really want it. I’m always afraid to want something, to really want something because I’m always expecting disappointment. I use sarcasm and jokes to play down the inner sadness that I’ve always felt when I compare my failures in life to that of my more successful and ‘together’ friends but really that’s all I want. I want success, I want people to look at me and feel proud or jealous or anything but pity for me when I tell them what I do. So to say I’m nervous about tomorrow would be an understatement, I really want this and I’m afraid to say it out loud in case someone finds out just how much.