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26 December 2013 @ 01:58 pm
Are any of you still here? I haven't looked at my friendlist for a very, very long time. Give me a shout and I'll have a look at your posts. x

Merry Christmas - here's whats happening:

- I came first in the xmas competition at work, despite working part-time. I'm really happy because I felt I really worked hard for it - I never win anything, whether I put the effort in or not. I deserve to feel a little smug. I got £100 - 50 cash, 50 vouchers.

- my uncle decided to come over for xmas and the SAME THING happened that happens every time. Last year he got drunk, lost his money and ended up in fucking WALES. This year he befriended someone in Manchester that robbed him, and so ending up bunking the train (that's dodging the fare for anyone not from round here) all the way from Manchester, to London Euston, then the London Underground, then to Southend. God knows how he did it, though I guess the storm helped.

- I've been having some nasty migraines. The doctor doesn't know what they are - or care, really. He advised me to keep taking codeine and eventually turn into a toothless junkie (no doubt), hanging around Cash Converters and shouting at my own reflection. I DON'T WANT TO TAKE PILLS FOR FUCK SAKE. I HATE DOING IT.

- Jack found £50 quid in a DVD box traded in at work, so instead of returning the money he quickly ran off to Sainsbury's, bringing back cans of booze and mixer for us all. I had one can of Gin & Tonic and got pleasantly merry, because I am a terrible lightweight. I think the customers knew we were a bit drunk. Woo.

- I bought Rob Pokemon X, Pokemon Black, and Pokemon White 2, so now he owns at least one of every generation. I got Ocarina of time, Pokemon Y, and Link Between Worlds so I was pretty happy. I'm thinking of buying a 2DS but God, they look shitty.
hello livejournal!

Inspired by the wonderful carface I have decided to update myself. Unfortunately my life isn't as exciting as hers, but here's what's been happening since I saw you last:

 - Moved in with a madman landlord. He believes all women want to sleep with him, the archangel Gabriel changed his eye colour from brown to blue, and that homoeopathy actually works. My house-mate is equally as insane and told me this morning that Tony Blair and Michael Portillo rape and kill boys. She read it on twitter, so it's totes legit. She also heals people with a tuning fork in her spare time. Sometimes I just cry myself to sleep knowing these people exist. 

 - I was supposed to move to another town, didn't go, broke Rob's heart and tried to get myself run over. My supervisor found me weeping behind some ghetto-looking bins (true story)

 - Lost my sense of smell so frequently buy xboxes in that smell of cat piss or shite (probably.) I am usually stuck serving the smelliest customers because it won't bother me, but as luck would have it they are usually the most annoying. I am destined to die of a gas leak or from drinking to much sour milk. When it's time it's time, I guess.

 - Aha! Reprieve! Went to East Surrey hospital and they shoved a camera up my nose without anaesthetic -  probably because I looked so tough when they saw me. I have nasal polyps, probably caused by all the cocaine I'm always doing. I'm mad for drugs, me. 

 - Going to start making a list of the ordinary things I fuck up and see if I am actually suffering from some messed-up brain disorder. I actually can't perform tasks like a normal human being, it make people angry with me and that makes me want to fling myself off a bridge. I can't follow instructions, or perform any slightly complicated tasks to any satisfactory degree. Might have something to do with the vast amount of Tennent's and whizz my mother consumed when I was in her womb, or perhaps I'm just naturally slow. We'll see. 

 - There's a bloke that comes in my work and has served me in Wilko's who looks just like Dominique Pinion when he was younger. it's fucking eerie.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dominique_Pinon

 - My sister tried to call the fucking police on me, so yeah, we don't speak anymore. I thought I had issues but that girl just takes it the fucking extreme. 
03 August 2011 @ 07:46 am

So after three days, six trains and two buses, bad dancing and falling asleep on a steam train, I’m back from Indietracks 2011. It was probably one of these best festivals I’d been to. Probably? What am I saying? it was THE best. An array of amazing bands, both favourites and ones I’d never heard, steam trains, cheap merch, real ale (I didn’t drink any - not a drop of alcohol touched my lips all weekend) and brilliant discos made it the highlight of the year.

 I should explain, really. I’d been wanting to go to Indietracks for a long time. I heard about it first in 2008/2009, when I was just starting to get into indiepop in a serious way. I’d always had a vague leaning towards anything twee without quite realising it, but upon hearing The Smittens/one happy island/many other bands and hanging out in the Twee Folks room on Soulseek, I’d aquired a real interest. I researched into it and it turned out it was in Derbyshire of all places, and the camping had to be separately booked. Add in the fact that I’d have no one to go with, it was enough to put me off. I never lost my urge to go however, and I finally bit the bullet and booked my camping and ticket this year, despite the fact I didn’t know anyone and was going alone, not knowing any indiepop fans in real life.

So. I set off on Friday morning at 9am and took four trains - Crawley - Three Bridges, Three Bridges - London St Pancras, London St Pancras - Notingham, Nottingham - Alfreton. It was the furthest north I’d ever been in my life, and I somehow noticed a distinct difference in the air as I got off the last  train. (It looked like rain.)   

I stood awkwardly at the train station waiting for my taxi, trying not to make eye contact with any popkids. These were the first ones I’d ever seen, and I was a little disappointed they didn’t have tentacles or something. A large taxi arrived and a few people got into it. One stopped and asked me if I was with a group of people standing nearby. I shook my head dumbly.

‘Do you want to get in ours, then?’

‘Okay’ I said, slightly surprised, but pleased. (Turns out these indiepop kids don’t feast on human flesh after all…or maybe they do, and this was just a ruse?! I was on my guard.) We introduced ourselves in the taxi. They were very lovely and invited me to camp with them as soon as they found out I was on my own. I sat with them for a while, put up my cheap musty tent, then explored the campsite. Really fancy stuff compared to what I’m used to: proper toilets, proper showers, and even a bath in one instance. A fishing lake, a really nice play area and a jacuzzi. (I kicked myself for not bringing a towel.)

I walked down to the festival site on my own around six to meet up with Carys. I’d asked her to pick me up some tights earlier and we’d arranged to meet at the signal box. She’s as nice in real life as she is on Twitter, and her other half Russ and her friend Roy (I think! I got even crappier with names over the weekend!) were both really friendly too. We watched Pocketbooks, who kicked off the festival and were amazing as they sound on record (I bought their album the very next day) and just chatted in the buffet car for the rest of the evening. It started getting cold and loud in there, so I said I’d retire to bed and started the long walk back to the campsite. About halfway, I got to a turning I didn’t remember and was a bit confused. There were no lights and it was pitch black. I saw a girl standing nearby and hurried up to her.

‘Excuse me, do you know which way back to the campsite? It’s dark and I’m not sure.’

She turned round. ‘Are you Nadia?’

‘Er, yes?’

‘I’m Sophy!’

‘Hello! Oh my god, that’s amazing, recognising someone you’ve never met in complete darkness! I’m impressed!’

We shook hands, hugged and went back to the campsite together where we chatted about serious subjects for a while. I was knackered by this point, so after a while, I traipsed off to find my tent feeling warm with new friendships. Except, I couldn’t find my tent. I actually had no idea where it was. Embarrasingly, I had to get a man from reception with a torch (and it was seriously dark, I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face) to help me after I’d given him a vague description of where it was.

I got barely any sleep that night. Welsh people talking in Welsh to my left, a guy I’d met called Tom snoring to my right, and on top of that it was freezing. I congratulated myself on bringing my all-in-one sleepsuit and thermal camping socks, and supplemented these with a pair of tights, a t shirt and a hoodie. I was still cold despite my efforts and the fact I kept needing a wee didn’t help me get any sleep or get any warmer.

I woke up from a fitful dream that I was back in my wrecked but comfortable four-poster with Rob at home, sleeping. (A dream that I was sleeping. Pathetic.) I felt like actual shit but managed to uncurl myself and brush my teeth. I sat around in my tent reading ‘Of Human Bondage’ by W. Somerset Maugham until Kate, Charlie, Tom and the rest got up and them joined them for breakfast, borrowing Tom’s charger to charge up my after-eight mint phone - also known as shit phone. I ate a rather dubious fried egg and then set off to the campsite around 12-ish.

Accidentally attended the Anorak meetup even though I had intended to be there, then I went into the Church to see Moustache Of Insanity and they were amazing; I really regret not giving them a chance before I came. I saw the beginning of Just Handshakes (we’re British)’s set but  missed Sock Puppets as I was at Verity’s cake workshop. I made two amazing cakes. Cramed them into my face and set off to see The Wendy Darlings who were really, really good. I actually started dancing, which I never do. Saw a bit of Help Stamp Out Loneliness - they were okay, I guess - and skipped off to see Math and Physics Club, who I love. They did not disappoint.  I sang along with gusto and grinned throughout.

 I chatted with Carys and Russ for a bit, then decided Edwyn Collins would have to be seen. I got there late, so I didn’t actually get to see him because of people in the way, but I heard him. He did ‘Falling and Laughing’ and ‘Rip It Up’ which made my night. (Of course, he did that song too. You know the one.) Missed Milky Wimpshake and went to the campsite disco with Sophy, Danny and their other friends. Danced until 3am, fell over during ‘The Safety Dance’ and stumbled back to my tent as happy as a pig on crack. Slept a bit better that night.

I got to the festival site a bit later on Sunday, fell asleep on a steam train with Sophy et al, and then fell asleep during A Fine Day For Sailing’s set. I woke up during Sloppy Joe - despite their terrible name they were really good. I had one of my inexplicable urges to kidnap people and keep them in my basement, this time about the vocalist of aforementioned band. If I’d actually started doing this I’d have like 60 people. They’d probably object, but I’ve never been one to put other people’s happiness above my own. I stayed for Zipper, then skipped off to see Horowitz -  who were brilliant! Why didn’t I discover this before?

I missed everyone else playing and decided to go straight to bed after having a bit of a chat with Carys, Satori, Ben, Roy and the Sock Puppets so I’d be refreshed on my last day. I heard the on site disco playing Another Sunny Day and Mighty Mighty, which was nice, but my bed was calling.

Woke up on the Monday feeling like hell again, said goodbye to everyone, went to the play area for a bit, had a very near miss trying to get Sophy out of bed in time, had hellish journey back (which I won’t detail) but Rob got on my bus just as I came into Crawley, which pleased me.

He’d decorated the house for my return :)

01 March 2011 @ 07:12 pm
The computer broke this morning and I nearly had a panic attack.It's my main tool for 'socialising' so if if it suddenly decided to shuffle off its mortal coil I would be FOREVER ALONE. As things ended up, though it had a change of heart and decided it had something to live for. RELIEF.

I made biscuits  - that's cookies to those who didn't have the sense/good fortune to be born in England. They taste like I crafted them out of camel shit in a sand box. I'm used to fate pissing mercilessly into my eyes, so I just shrugged and left them on the side to be a nasty surprise for someone else. At least the icing is nice. Yellow.

I played Sweet Harmony by Liquid (an old rave tune I dimly remember from my childhood) very loudly this afternoon, and Pablo took exception to this. He tore round the house, shrieking loudly and biting me. What a prick.

My shadow looks really attractive. Something to put on my CV.
02 January 2011 @ 07:36 pm
- When someone quotes the Mighty Boosh, ask them if they’re from 2004. Need to find out the secrets of time travel/possible time travellers & this seems easiest way

- Take Pablo to vet, ask why he’s got no front teeth. Insert Christmas joke if poss.

- Stop straightening hair, bring back homeless look I was rocking in 2006

- Investigate possible Tuberculosis/chest infection

- Buy typewriter and tape recorder. No reason, just looks cool in the house

- Stop wearing glasses, see if vision improves b/c wearing glasses has done no favours since ‘94

- pretend to be in early 20’s if anyone asks

- look into the pros/cons of stuffing bra with toilet paper

- Work up courage to go into hairdressers and ask for same haircut as Ramona Flowers. Shrug it off when they call me a tool

- eat more fish food in general

- climb into next doors garden, stand on a lawn chair, shout nonsense and see how THEY like it for a change
03 December 2010 @ 03:34 am
Stuff and things:

- Ill again! Yes, it's the 'coughing up brown and green lumps so hard I puke' scenario. I'm such a fucking sexy bitch. Come and get me, eligible bachelors! Colin sent me home yesterday, so I went and sat in the food court, too miserable to start the treacherous journey home, and wept into my Subway.

 - It snowed again. It's now roughly up to my knees, and I have to walk like a bloody stork if I want to get anywhere. This is probably the end of the world, and God's royally pissed at us for all the trashiness that goes on in Sussex so he's decided to hit us with some foul plague of snow. I hate to break it to you, God, but this isn't going to make me stop getting drunk or having pre-marital sex. Not that I'm constantly doing either, but whatevs. You're not winning, Mr Sir, though I have the ultimate respect for who you are and what you do.

 - I bought a pair of feety pyjamas.I am now, quite possibly, the coolest person alive, and they only set me back eight pounds. Thankyou, Primark. If it wasn't snowing I'd quite seriously trek down to the shops in them, like the white trash whore I am. FUCK YOU I'M AN ANTEATER

 - I actually HATE enjoying an entry but having nothing to say. It makes me look like a disinterested don't-give-a-shit. I do!
17 November 2010 @ 08:41 pm
 - Just redone my hair. I didn't have any gloves, so I wrapped two sandwich bags round my hands. I also decided to have a bath at kind of the same time to, save on mess generally kill two birds with one stone. The boiler's been out of action for about a month so I had to boil endless pans of hot water on the hob. I got about an inch of lukewarm water out of that. So, I ended up sitting there shivering my arse off,  sandwich bags on my hands, with blue dye all round my face because one of the bags came off and I tried to pull it back on with my teeth. Brb, staying classy.

 - The neighbours are fucking wierd. I was just about to watch The Railway Children (1970 version) when I heard some rustling in the backgarden. I creep up the the window and next door are climbing over our fence. I watch as they pass a plastic garden chair over and one of them stands on it; in the middle of our fucking lawn, no less. I open the door. 'Can I help?' I ask,  and they have the decency to look faintly embarrassed. 'Er, we're just looking for our cat. We can hear her but we can't see her, ahaha.' I shake my head and close the door without saying a word. Jesus christ.

 - My lungs have stopped with the yellow lumps. I still have a cough, which I do my best to keep Rob awake with, but the whole illness thing has dumbed down on the whole. Rob's getting a sore throat though. I told him he should stop giving head to junkies in the alley behind Argos, but he says it's something he just can't give up.

 - Pablo's testicles have increased to such a size he walks with a decided swagger. He is testoterone on four legs. I need to drag his arse to the vet ASAP.

 - I'm back up to my ideal weight!  112 pounds! I'd like to thank McDonalds, Greggs, the local fish and chip shop, Subway, and Burger King.  Never will I put myself in a situation where I can't get food 24/7, it's too dangerous.

PICTURE FROM SEVEN YEARS AGO. WHICH MOST OF YOU HAVE ALREADY SEEN BUT I DRAG IT OUT AGAIN FOR THE LULZ. I WAS TOO GAWKY. ALSO: I never said any of this. They weren't FUCKING Ugg boots, I bought them from a special ski shop because at that time that's the only place you could get them. Also, they ended up letting in the snow anyway. I also like the way I 'claim' things. YOU CLAIM THINGS SOUTHEND EVENING ECHO.YOU CLAIM THINGS A LOT.
13 November 2010 @ 09:19 am

Going to my mother's house is like travelling from a poor communist country to the decadent west. I've just come back from there, and my head is spinning still from luxuries like Sky television, showers, and a corner sofa.

I arrived Tuesday. The journey was quite short, all things considered, only two-and-a-half hours. (I remembered 7/7 two stops before Liverpool Street so sat there frozen in fear and breathing through my teeth with the other commuters giving me slightly askew looks behind their newspapers.)

Mum met me at the station. I almost didn't recognise her, but she saw me straight away. It's depressing how my face never changes, and people who knew me when I was 8 could probably still pick me out of a lineup. (I'll never make a good killer.) I followed her outside and stopped dead in my tracks.

'What is that?!'

'What's what?'

'That.' I waved my arm towards a multi-coloured monstrosity in the directions of Sainsbury's.

'Oh! Summink to do with the university? They sleep there..or summink.'

'That is bloody horrible.'

'Ah, I'm used to it now. It's all changed round here, you'll see.'

I did see. Boots has moved, there's an inexplicable second Starbucks, there's now two H&M's, approximately 372837289 branches of Costa, some kind of faux Victorian sweet 'shoppe', Dead Glam, the Goth shop (run by the man who looks like he's permanently on the edge of tears) has moved to somewhere equally as improbable and Specsavers is somewhere else entirely.
I don't recognise Southend anymore, which is good because it helps me get over missing it. The Southend I knew, the map of it in my head, no longer exists.

Another thing - I haven't seen my Nan in 15 years. A year or so back, they'd fallen on hard times and become reconciled with my mother. She'd pulled some strings, and now my grandmother and my mentally ill uncle live just across the road in a quaint little cottage type house.
Mum decided that now was the time for a visit and practically dragged me to their house. She opened the front door, pushed me through, signed to my Nan 'This is Nadia' and before I knew it, I was having the whole life squeezed out of me by a tiny elderly woman. She let me go finally, and before I could try and get my glasses back on my face, or pat my hair into any type of recognisable shape, she'd taken me by the hand and was showing me around her little house - the bedroom, the larder, the garden.

I'd forgotten how to talk to her. I do know how to sign, I learnt it at the same time I was learning to talk, but it seemed to have escaped me that afternoon. I could follow the conversation between Mum and Nan reasonably well, and remembered that odd little quirk she has: speaking to my mum only in ISL and to my uncle only in BSL.
Anyway, after a while, my mum could see I was a little confused and uncomfortable so she made excuses for me and finally took me home to the flats across the road. Lephise recognised me immediately. I scooped her up and was shocked how light she was, compared to my Pablo who is quite chunky. I'd missed her fluffiness, and her croaky miaow, and her complete intolerance for everything.

The next two days were spent in blissful relaxation in mum's warm, nice-smelling flat, so far away from my own house. She let me sleep in her massive soft bed and slept on the sofa herself. I woke up on Wednesday morning, made mum a cup of tea, and asked for a bath.

'There is no bath. Didn't you notice?'

'Didn't really look...and how do you mean, there is no bath? how do you wash?'

'Got a shower now.'

'A...what? I don't really get showers. I mean, standing up to wash, I'm sure that's not right.'

'You'll get used to it - I had to. I'll turn it on for you, shall I?'

...and off she bustles towards the bathroom, leaving me standing there, filled with a sense of foreboding.

(I had the shower. I was scared and confused throughout the entire thing.)

Thursday morning, I decided that I should go and visit the wonderful magpieopus  -  she's so awesome, and possibly my favourite person ever. I got on a horrible ramshackle bus (Crawley buses are so clean in comparison) and arrived at her house in the early afternoon.
She's put on a whole afternoon tea for me, bless her, with biscuits that spelled out my name. There was tea and milkshake and pink lemonade and all kinds of cakes. If I hadn't been quite ill that day, I would have eaten more (as it was, I took some home and my mum wolfed them down)
We talked for ages, and watched DVD's - Little Shop Of Horrors, The Witches, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit. I've really missed her. We discussed the terror of showers, and I was glad to hear she's equally as wary of them. I ended up not staying as long as I'd wanted; I was ill and needed sleep. As I came out of the front door, gruesome_suitor came running up. She was worried she was going to miss me and had dashed home from work. Ah, I love her. I gave her a massive hug and they both walked me to the bus stop.  I'm missing them already :(

I caught the train home yesterday, not before my mum had forced £200 and a new toothbrush on me. Pfft, parents.
26 October 2010 @ 09:16 pm
I like updating in bulletins. If my manager were here, he'd say 'You know what else I like? You mum!' Then he'd play Dubstep at a deafening volume for five hours. Good old Colin.

 - Heather's playing 'Nine In The Afternoon' on her iPhone. I'm telling her to turn it up. What. A. Fucking. Loser. I. Am.

 - I seem to have been roped into dying the whole underneath of her hair pink. She dyed her hair black a few weeks ago so as you can imagine, bleaching isn't going too well. She looks like she's caught the ginger.

 - I went back to Dreamwidth. As soon as I told all the fanfiction-writers to take a running jump, it became a more interesting place. I just copy the entries over, like the lazy cow I am. They'll never know, the stupid wankers.

 - If you want Charity workers to leave you alone in the high street, just start shrieking and flailing -  they give you a wide berth. Rob tried this with a man who tried to sell him Sky TV outside Poundland. He soon backed off.

 - Mark Gatiss is my new hero. I want to grow up to be him, beard and all. You know what's kind of related? The next-door-neighbours are called Tubbs and they're all hideous, just like Tubbs in The League Of Gentlemen that Gatiss was in. I lean up against the adjoining wall and bellow 'YOU MUSTN'T TOUCH THE PRECIOUS THINGS!'  and we all have a chuckle.

- Heather's trying to wash her hair and eat Salt 'n' Vinegar discos at the same time! Fuck Mark Gatiss, Heather's my new role model. I shall say 'Cunt' loudly in Tescos, and get drunk on shots in nightclubs.

 - I forgot to mention; Gregory Isaacs is dead. I was always a very big fan of his so I'm royally pissed off that he had the audacity to die on me.

 - ONE DAY OFF THIS WEEK. One day! I'm going to spend it trying to cut my fringe with nail scissors, stroking the cat backwards, and eating chilled ready meals. The life of a king!
24 October 2010 @ 10:24 am
 - Okay! Fallout: New Vegas is amazing! I want to roll around on our foul-smelling carpet with a controller clutched to my bosom and cackle and weep with joy. IT'S GLITCHY AS ALL HELL, THOUGH. The game slightly lags every few minutes and the bottom of my stomach drops out: 'Will it freeze? Won't it freeze? OMG I HAVEN'T SAVED' but then it goes back to normal and I breathe a sigh of relief.

 - Rob's gone down the shops; there's no toilet roll so I'm blowing my nose on whatever I can find. I wish you were here to see it, it's gross but hauntingly beautiful.

 - Michael at work -  you know Michael, right? Have I spoken about him before? He's the emo kid with the same speaking voice as Michael Jackson, just you know, in an English accent. He spends a lot of time looking at the floor, saying 'argh'  and mumbling to himself. He's fantastic. He's  taken to hacking off bits of himself with a stanley knife on the shop floor. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. He did it once.

 - I totally do origami now. It's like, slightly artistic but not hard. I'll take my deformed cranes out with me and people will think I'm a tortured soul who can only express herself through paper-folding and want to be my friend.

 - Rediscovered The Clangers lately and I find myself hooked once again. As soon as I get money for DVD's, I'm going to be in nostalgic heaven. If you don't know anything about British children's programming, then here's a good place to start.

 - The girl in Shakeaway mistook me for a fucking student. SHE'S ON MY LIST. I pride myself in being uneducated council estate scum with incarcerated family members! Got a free milkshake, though...bits of Turkish Delight got stuck up the straw.

 - Bacon and eggs, fuck yeah.  Fuck it; I had a Frijj and four Hob-nobs.

- There's some entries I really want to comment on but find myself with nothing to say. katetherobot  and thebustocrookes I'm sorry!