I am addicted to black. I should go to Black Wardrobes Anonymous. I am the woman who buys black dye thrice yearly to ensure all my blacks are equally black and avoid the hell of ‘clashy black’, which looks crap at the best of times, but especially so in Summer. Only science understands the suffering we… Read More “I don’t always wear black, sometimes I wear nothing.”
I’ve always found it hard to make friends. In most of my memories from ten and under, I’m alone. Don’t misunderstand me – I had friends, but only a few and I found the rituals of girlhood mostly very confusing and never quite got them right. Of course I know why this is now, as… Read More “No one told me life was gonna be this way…”
I’m up to a grand total of eleven holes in my head so far, not including my nostrils, gob and ear holes, none of which have been artificially fashioned despite how they might first appear. The number sounds more dramatic than it is – I have six piercings in one ear, three in the other… Read More Patsy Pervert Has Skin Chagrin
Forty something evangelists piss me off. Not the sanctimonious shouty types that wave their arms around and claim that Jesus solves everything (He doesn’t. I accidentally smeared silly putty on my pashmina this morning and no matter how many times I shouted “CHRIST ALMIGHTY”, precisely nothing happened until I ran it under the hot tap… Read More “iPhone, iPhone, in my hand, can you get this bullshit banned?”
As a *cough* woman of a certain age, I am occasionally inclined to find things confusing and/or scary. I fear I have, sadly, reached the point where “youths” are out to get me, I swear at self-checkouts and needed to have a nerve-calming gin when Elon Musk sent that car into space. Which, given that… Read More *tap tap* IS THIS THING ON, DEAR?