Tag Archives: Facebook

Fallout

I’m bunked up. Typing in my little spare room.

I would feel quite Sylvia Plathesque if I weren’t looking out on municipal style railings and passing ruffians who should be in school. I looked over my Facebook activity this week and saw my sister hadn’t replied to ANY of my charming and/or witty posts. Farmville requests and cute cat pictures all ignored.

Obvious conclusion to me was o-oh, here’s the fallout. Last weekends incident which you can read about HEREĀ and which shall from now on be known as ‘the long walk’ involved my sister and me. We row like hell cats. Not often but when we do, shit goes down. Everyones a c*** or a c**ting bitch and we shake with rage at each other. It comes from nowhere and ends as quickly as it starts.

It would worry me but see, this is the thing. ‘We’ are all I’ve got as far as unconditional love and undying devotion. I slipped into the role of ‘big sister’ when my Dad married her Mum with the relish of a newly signed off Cambridge Dieter at a Chinese Buffet. She’s ma sista from anutha mista and she lends me money, drives all over the place to come and get me, tells me I look gorgeous when I am bra-less and broken assed, and I repay her by teaching her makeup techniques and showing her right up when we go out.

So naturally I thought she was still cross with me. Even though I did make sure we all went out the night after The Long Walk and I behaved impeccably, and watched Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2 the day after with her, even though with bleeding blisters and 2 nights worth of hangover I should have known it would be traumatising (when the lovely Dad Cullen got his head lopped off I was upset, when Seth-Wolf bit it in the cavern I was TOAST) Hence I thought we were cool when she dropped me off on Sunday and I thought well isn’t that just passive aggressive kick you in the crotch peachy.

Turns out she’s poorly with a stroke expected any second!

Now, how old am I that my baby sister has been told by doctors to look out for stroke symptoms? Plenty old. Forty to be precise, and I am way too flaky to be thrust into the world as an only child again.

So, get better soon Redhead. Don’t have a stroke. Love you

Howdy!

Dear Internets

I’ve been one of your best customers for a while now. I’ve dabbled in YouTube, wallowed in Myspace, dipped my toe in Blogspot and Live Journal and a thousand other ways to procrastinate.

I thought I’d let you get to know me now, but as I paid for the privilege like some sort of sweaty old business man on a conference trip to the midlands you have to act all interested in what I have to say and nod politely and show a bit of nip like a good ‘pay by the hour’ companion.

I thought I’d better get this domain thing paid for before the Bedroom Tax (oh no she’s political) kicks in and it’s all Pot Noodles and second hand hats.

So this is where you’ll find me when I’m not Macro shotting the shit out of something or watching weird films or trying to change the world one Creme Egg at a time.

I used to love shoes until I realized nail polish is cheaper and easier to store. I still love The Smiths, hair metal, pop music and a bit of shoegaze. I still love Manchester, even though it’s getting harder every rain soaked year. I love Yorkshire where I used to live and left my best friends there. I illustrate, do logos (real legit, vinyl door stickers and everything) and collect miniature things.

Drag Queens showed me more about makeup and deportment than my Mum ever did and I thought my nana was Bette Lynch when I was little.

Pleased to meet you.

Write back

VP

Fasten your seatbelts it’s going to be a bumpy night.