Little rant

I'm about to have a little rant here.  Whilst avoiding uni work, and going on Facebook - I'm studying PR, Facebook is social media, it's kind of uni work.... - I saw a status about the EDL.  I had no idea what the EDL was at first, but any 3-lettered group makes me annoyed, the BNP is another.  Anyway, being me, I felt the need to get annoyed at some idiot who commented "av u been in fuckin town and seen lights "happy divarli" they can have there's but wen it cums t ours they dnt wnt it! Fuck off bak t were u came frm cunts! :@" Okay, so apart from the fact she couldn't spell, what the Hell are people doing supporting stupid so-called political parties and groups like the English Defence League?


Are we regressing back to Nazi Germany?  Have we not progressed into this so-called multi-cultural society?  Are we too ignorant to see people for who they are rather than the colour of their skin or the religion they practice?  And more to the point, what happened to the beautiful English language?!  Why can't people spell?  Why can they not tell the difference between simple words taught in primary school?  "Your" and "you're"?!  It's not hard!


I have to warn you.  Pet hates include ignorance, racism and bad spelling and grammar, as well as voting Conservative.  Being spineless is another thing I cannot tolerate.  As well as being stupid, whether it's because you're lazy or to impress someone, normally a male.  


My advice?  Learn to spell if you're going to try and write something inflammatory.  I might even listen.  

Confessions of a hair dye addict....

I think I have a problem.  It's not a big one.  In fact when compared to all the starving children across the globe, and the cholera in Haiti and the Indonesian crisis that is ongoing, it is positively ridiculous.  However, just as soon as I get into 10 Downing Street, I will make it up to them.  For now I am a struggling student with a problem.

Hair dye.  It's a serious issue at the moment.  I can't stop dying my hair.  It's not even like it's to strange and exciting colours.  No, this is even worse.  I dyed it red about 3 years ago.  Then I dyed it black to cover the red.  Then I carried on with the dark hair dye.  Then got bored and tried to go red.  Did I never learn at school?  Light does not conquer dark in terms of colour.  Maybe in terms of religion and physics but not in hair dye.  I then had black hair with red roots.  Funky yes.  Sustainable?  No.  In came the hair stripper to the horror of all around me.  My friends, well used to my hair disasters often enjoy the experience and make it a get together.  There have even been emergency midnight visits to the supermarket to purchase dye to cover up mistakes....  My hair came out orange.  Hayley Williams orange.  No fear, it looked funky.

Said funky hair grew dark brown roots - pin pricks, granted, but that meant I had to do something about it.  So in came the brown hair dye, back to the natural colour.  Except this came out black.  And faded.  Then came in the lighter roots.  Bored?  I was.  So I carried on with the roots until Mr Darcy commented (being so tall....)  so out came the dye again.  This time it came out a plum colour.  Beautiful but still not quite right.  Out came the colour remover (posher than stripper)  My hair then had its debut as its natural colour and what a gorgeous carmel brown it was.  For a week.  I now have bleached it as it appeared to go darker by itself (the colour remover lied) and so I put on stripper to even it all out.  I only meant to lighten it a tiny bit to even everything out to get back to au natural.  Except now I've seen this brilliantly gorgeous red colour and I want it.....

RIP hair.  You're bound to fall out and solve the problem of colour and roots and uneven-ness.

I sit typing this with extreme intensive conditioner on, whilst eyeing up the red hair dye.  Once it's red, I'll leave it...  Until the roots show....

I wonder if there's a Hair Dye Anonymous....

If this is real life; BACK OFF! I'm not ready!

I'm having a mid-life crisis, except if this is mid-life I'll be severely pissed.  I'm not even 25 yet.  Crap.  That's old when you're still at university, living the life of a student as much as possible and you count your best friends as band members.

I don't even know what a mid-life crisis feels like, except my boyfriend is 21, my friends all range from 20 to 28 and I am the only one with the child - four, full of attitude and clever as fuck, not to mention beautiful.  All around me, people are settling down, getting married and popping out babies like there's no tomorrow.  Thankfully, the close knit circle of friends have yet to pop out any questions, or sprogs because then, well I don't know what I'll do.

It's not like I don't want people to be happy - I do.  I just don't want constant reminders that everyone is growing up and that real life is actually on the doorstep rather than a million miles away.  It's scary.  Unchartered territory and I don't like it.

Yes, okay, I've got the munchkin but she is more like a little sister or housemate rather than my actual child. It's her and me against the world, and the minute someone else introduces a mini-me, things will change and I don't think I am quite ready for that.

The ironic thing is the other day, whilst in the city of love with my Mr Darcy, there was a baby on the metro who smiled at me.  I felt sick at myself for even imagining what life would be like with another.  Thankfully said baby, probably sent by Satan to try and tempt me into giving life up again, started crying and I settled back down content with just Mr Darcy and me.

I have a plan for world domination, peace, the solution to global warming, the answer to the chaotic economy and still a degree to get before the real family settling down begins.  I'm still waiting for various band members to whisk me away and propose on a moonlit beach, and I don't mean Blackpool beach.  I still want to find the perfect band and elevate them to stardom and earn me millions.  I can't do that with two children and a husband in tow.

So, yeah.  All you lovely, smugly married people who are at it like rabbits; give it a rest for a couple of nights and stick the TV on.  It'll be cheaper, less stress and you can turn it off.  Failing that, use a condom?  There're still people like me in hiding from this 'real life' business.

Cheers.

Toxic Friendships

Sometimes a bad experience can change a person's life for better or worse.  I am lucky; for me, things can only get better...

Toxicity.  Not just a term for a chemical or a poisonous substance, but also can refer to so-called friendship.  The kind of friendship that you long to escape from.  The type where even getting a text from toxic friend can bring you out in a cold sweat accompanied by a sinking feeling of "Not again".  It's the term applied to a relationship similar to an abusive one, except instead of being able to dump the poisonous culprit and move on, it gets messier than a jam donut. 

Toxic friendship is a difficult situation to explain to anyone who has had the pleasure of never experiencing it.  It's more subtle than bullying; imagine manipulation with a sickly sweet smile, handing out anthrax laden sweets to children and the elderly.  The equivalent to the softer side of evil.

It drains the victim like a vampire who doesn't know when to stop.  As the vampire fears all things holy and sunlight, the toxic one fears being left alone.  This fear can sometimes be hidden in seemingly innocent gestures that make the victim suspicious, but grateful at the same time for respite.

Some females have this down to a fine art.  Forget Mother Nature and the sacred creation of life; some are more blatant in their bullying, born only to create havoc and destroy.

Some begin as the rather large, acne ridden bully in the school yard, covering her deep insecurities by causing havoc to chosen victims through aggression and fear.  This is the type of girl who stereotypically, will have an appalling complexion, thick wiry hair and a fleshy body not quite contained by the pleated skirt, untucked shirt and thick soled shoes; the universal uniform of female school yard tyrants.  These type of girls are easy to identify, easy to quash and easy to monitor.  They almost always end up married at a ridiculously young age to the local thug, spawning further hideous examples of half witted humanity.  Sometimes they are abandoned by said thug, left with even more brainless offspring who are identified by their bad teeth and pale, unwashed, malnourished skin.

Victims can take a certain amount of pleasure in the knowledge that these girls almost never make anything of themselves unless they appear on The Jeremy Kyle Show.

The more subtle type are the ones to watch; these handmaidens of Satan might be more attractive on the eye, but they are bullies nevertheless.  Popular, wearing the latest fashion, sporting celebrity haircuts and more often than not, teacher’s pet (not to fool oneself, the only reason they are liked is because Daddy has the staff on the pay roll)  These are the types of girls who have even greater insecurities than the previous example.  They are body conscious, experiencing severe food envy as they tuck into their unfulfilling lettuce leaf, potentially setting off reserves of bubbling anger, probably directed to the shyest member of the class. 

This is the girl who masquerading as your best friend, will bitch about you to your worst enemy.  Everything is a competition to her from weight to social life.  She will steal your boyfriend and manipulate all around her; there is no mistake about her quest to be Queen Bee.  She resembles something darker than that; a Black Widow waiting for the vibrations in her web to alert her to the situations that she can control, instilling uncertainty and fear smothered by a fake, sweet smelling smile masking her rotting soul.  

In order for this species of bully to survive she must choose the strongest male in a pack, wearing him down so that he no longer has an opinion, or one he is brave enough to wield.  Moving from the Alpha male she will prime her next victim taking no notice of whether he is single or not.  This is a prime example of female manipulation at its best.

Whilst the first type of girl barely leaves her environment, preferring to breed in a well known habitat with pond life; dragging the next unfortunate generation into a vicious circle of desperation, repetition and diffidence, the next type is far more dangerous.  She is found in all types of society, learning that in order to survive she must divide and conquer.  Found in a haggle of girls, she will be seen picking out her next victim for pleasure.  This girl hunts not only for existence, but like a vampire, for personal gratification.

Beware of these creatures of the night.  They are not your friend, neither are they able to change.  They say a leopard never changes its spots, well a toxic bully never gets neutralised.  Once they have their victim in their sights, the only option is to cut all links.  Failing that, run.  Run and hide.