Spring Has Sprung… And It’s Horrible.

25 Mar



See? This is what you did to bunny!

Hallelujah, the birdies and bunnies are flapping and hopping, flowers are bursting on the trees, brighter than fairy lights or bronze-coloured autumn leaves. The grass is greener, shafts of sun slide though open windows and puddle like butter on the dun-coloured carpets. Spring has arrived and, frankly, it sucks.

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Moustaches Make Everything Better

24 Jan
This guy got it goin’ on. Whatever ‘it’ is. Or whatever.

BEFORE WE BEGIN:A tiny qualm. (I like that word. Qualm.) My computer browser insists… no, postulates that ‘moustaches’ is spelt without the ‘o’.

No is my answer.

‘Mustaches’.

Urgh.

No.

Anyway.

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Daily Post?

9 Jan

Letters

I am overcome with sadness annoyance at the new WordPress initiative, The Daily Post. It seems to advocate a noble sentiment: keeping your blog and your readers happy and satisisfied with a post a day.

Hmph.

I thought writing blog posts were something you did when the mood took you, or when you felt you had an unquashable need to pollute the internet with your incessant ramblings. Or maybe that last one’s just me.  Anyhow, I thought that blogging was supposed to be fun. I suppose that if you blog for work, or for a living, it is  maybe necessary to write a post a day. But somehow, I feel that WordPress are being almost militant about the whole thing.

A noble cause it may be (advocating stamina, strength of mind and creativity, as much as it pains me to admit it), but I find that feels too much like hard work.* Especially when the thing I’m putting so much effort into is something I started for fun.

And you know what happens when you put too much work into something, don’t you? You go from liking it to despising it. You start off utterly committed, but end up sick of the sight of whatever you’re trying so hard at. I don’t really want to post my blog to corruption, because I happen to really like blogging. And I don’t really want to not like doing it.**

Another thing that annoys me about The Daily Post is that it basically does the same thing as the fantastic Plinky Prompts.

Hark, an example. 

Oh, and one more point: if I did indeed write a post a day, I would become a slave to the laptop, my fingers prematurely arthritic and swollen. You would all run, screaming: ‘no more, posts, Josie! No more!’

Which is a lose-lose situation for both of us.

*Wow, I sound lazy here. But then, I am. Take that, WordPress. Hurrah for lazy bloggers!

**Barg.

Sundays are Stressful

9 Jan

Nasty cat !

I'm very stressed. Why? It's a Sunday, and Sundays are stressful because of the Mondays that follow them. A Sunday is an extension of a Monday in that everything you do on Sunday has repercussions (or should that just be percussions? I like that word, 'percussions') on Monday. Stay up late reading on Sunday and you'll be falling asleep like a cat– that is to say, inconvenuently and in odd positions– on the day that follows. Eat too many pretzels and you'll be stalked by cravings. Spend too much time blogging? Your fingers will be sore and stiff.

I have been typing for six hours solid. I have eaten seven eighths of a kilo of pretzels. It's 4am.

Another reason why Sundays are stressful is that they trick you into believing that they're another day off. They're not. You spend a glorious Saturday pottering and doodling and relaxing. And then you realise you have stuff. Stuff that's clogging up your life and need urgently doing. 'S'alright,' you tell youself sleepily. 'Y've go' a whole other day…' But you don't. Sunday is so clogged up with obligatory duties that you have barely an minute to do the things that really need doing. Like watching TV. And reading. And… oh God… and HOMEWORK.

That's why I'm stressed at the moment. Because Sunday is a lying cheat of a day.

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Festive Posting

6 Jan

I am one of those suckish and horrible bloggers who don’t post over the holidays.
This is for two reasons.

1. My brother (IF YOU ARE READING THIS, NICK. IF YOU ARE, STOP IT. STOP NOW) took great pleasure in antagonising me over my what can only be called eccentric subject matter.

2. I was using up enough energy in trying to make myself feel in any way festive to put effort into being my utterly beguiling, ravishing, interesting and usually gramatically correct internet self.

This shocking behaviour lies in stark contrast with the lovely Pie and Biscuits who lovingly and carefully kept up the festive cheer in a series of fantastic, well written and extremely enjoyable posts. I thank P’n’B for being so committed and helping me through the trials of Christmas, a time that is so very dificult for all of us.

I will make up for it, impoverished readers. I promise.

Meanwhile, here is a picture.

That’s what I was really doing all holiday. Eating pomegranates. And watching Doctor Who.

Aaargh, Christmas!

18 Dec

Previously unpublished post – 15th November 2010

I love Christmas, I really do. On about the tenth of December something just goes PING! inside me, and from that moment on, I have an unquashable urge to wear Santa hats, eat mince pies and wander around town with mittens and candles, singing carols.

But it’s November right now. Moustaches are still in (‘Movember’ is possibly one of the most awesome charity initiatives ever, right?), it’s cold, but not December cold* and Christmas songs are playing on the radio.

Can you see the anomaly here?

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David Bowie, I Love You

5 Dec

I’m in love with David Bowie.

No, wait. Listen, I’m not a crazy stalker fan who kisses a poster of his face every night before I go to bed, it’s just that I… well, actually, no. It’s just a kind of diluted version of the aforementioned crazy fandom.

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Well Done, Weather (or: Bloody Snow and Replacement Rail Services!)

30 Nov

Look. That's what happens. A train station. A train station!

Nicely done, British Weather. I have but one criticism.

YOU’RE A WHOLE MONTH TOO EARLY!

Okay? So it was only one mistake.

But it was a pre-e-e-e-ty big one.

Why? Well, I’ll tell you, just in case you don’t know. Because Britain totally grinds to a halt in any kind of sub-zero precipitation. Including snow. Especially snow.

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Grovel, Grovel

12 Nov

This post is for Keely, who I mentioned a couple-a times. Mostly in conjunction with Ninja Face.

This post is a grovelly-apology post, it pains me to tell you. So, due to shockingly bow-ily, scrape-ily, forelock-tug-ily, inside-joke-packed-ily bad writing, I tell you with as much good grace as I can muster: if you’re not interested, you may Clear Orf. 

I give you my permission.

Go. 

Go now.

Shoo.

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Why Won’t You Comment?

28 Oct

 

Comment is free! So why don't any of you guys do it?

If you know who this guy is– Charles Prestwich Scott– , in relation to comments, unaided by google or any other search engine, you get a very awesome prize. GO!

Ah, the comment. My heart leaps every time I see that text-box at the bottom of a web page, a blank canvas ready for me to say exactly what I think. And I do. Frequently.

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