Life can be incredibly shit sometimes, as I may have mentioned sometime before. This year alone has been completely horrendous – which I have also mentioned – what with the death of Alan Rickman and my birthday falling on a Monday, and I’ve been dealt yet another crushing blow this November from none other than Pottermore. Continue reading “dealing with the crushing blow of finding out my patronus”
I’ve been trying to avoid expelling my angst against you online because noone likes an online bully, but I think it’s time we addressed a few issues.
Life is shit, let’s be honest. For the past five months I’ve been doing what I do best and ignoring my blog, weeping at videos of cute puppies and forsaking life as a sack of shit. It only took me until October 12th to remember that I am a blogging goddess and it’s time I picked up my pen and paper, put it down again, remember that blogging is digital and fire up my battered MacBook to give the people what they really want: a tale of the time I saw Justin Bieber in concert. Continue reading “how to cope with seeing Justin Bieber in concert”
Looking good and shoving it in other people’s faces is great, and it’s made increasingly greater (and easier) by every Millennial’s favourite app: Instagram. Pretending you’re someone else online is an art form, and one that I’ve discussed as recently as last week on my blog. Seen as though I am unoriginal as fuck and unable to come up with anything interesting to talk about, I’ve decided to take this nastiness and direct it at Instagram’s finest, having embraced the fact I hate everything.
Getting any amount of attention on Instagram is somewhat difficult for anyone who isn’t the size of a Bowtruckle with a “glam squad” on the payroll. Convincing other people that your life is worthy of a double-tap can be hard; I am nearing 450 followers (groundbreaking, I know) and am yet to surpass the 15 likes mark on most of my pictures which is of course preposterous. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know the secret to a successful life on the ‘gram. Continue reading “how to be the best Instagrammer you can be”
I think moving to London really does change a person, no matter how much you don’t want to be changed. In fact, moving anywhere will change a person. I am now at the risk of sounding like a cringey bastard within the first two lines of this blog post so I won’t elaborate further but I assure you that this cringefest of an opening is necessary for the rest of the article to flow like one of Shakespeare’s sonnets (which, of course, they all do).
So anyway, I’ve written before about moving to London and the general musings I have about the place and the people and the mother fucking underground, and now it’s time to talk about myself (shock). I don’t think I’ve done this much talking about myself since I joined Girl Guides and they asked me to tell them three things that defined me, but so is the way of the blogging world that I must be selfish and act like everyone gives a shit about my experiences of shit. Continue reading “things i do now that i didn’t do before moving to london”
We all have an online persona. To tell you the truth I’m actually a balding middle aged Moroccan guy with a penchant for glitter and an unhealthy obsession with Bill Oddy. But how would you actually know if I wasn’t? I guess seen as the only people who read my blog are my mum and Karen from down the road I can be pretty sure my entire readership know who I really am (although I do also love glitter). Continue reading “people on the internet vs. people in real life”
We need to talk about public transport in the UK. Whether it be overground, underground, sideways, airborne, on a road or on a track, all forms of public transport in Britain have one characteristic in common: they’re a shower of shite.
As a self-proclaimed angsty “bus wanker” – and someone who has to take a bus, underground tube and overground train to get to fucking work and back – I am pretty much a connoisseur of public transport. I must clarify here that I’m absolutely not admitting that proudly; it’s defo shameful and beyond to have to do battle with not one but three modes of UK transport on a daily basis. So I think what I’m getting at here is that I’m not a posh twat complaining about mixing with the peasantry on the bus, and that I do have a valid insight into just how shit transport in the UK really is. Continue reading “public transport is shit”