STYLE ALPHABET

http://journal.stylealphabet.com/what-women-dont-like-about-men-according-to-her/

If you're not interested in what I have to say about your style BLOKES. Then perhaps read what I have to say about your manners. A bit of a rant and I do apologise because I'm sure some of you are quite charming.

LEKKER

http://lekkermagazine.com/index.php/category/fashion

Have a little read of the bollocks I have to voice about male fashion. You never know, the opinion of a foolish fashion student might actually help you.. or something.

dens

Lucy Rose - All I've Got

Trying too hard to make ya smile; to notice
Been a while since you thought that you weren't mine

Even when I feel like I've lost my way
It will only last a day
'Til I know that I am yours

Because all I have is everything I'm giving to you
And all I've got is you
It's nothing but the truth
All I've got is you

And you say just one small word and I change my mind
Sometimes it's not so easy to find

All the words that are mixed in my head
Trying too hard to make some sense
When I know deep down you know

You know that
All I have is everything I'm giving to you
And all I've got is you
It's nothing but the truth
All I've got is you

So you take me by the hand
Take me places I don't know
So you take me by the hand
Take me places I don't know
And you
So you take me by the hand
And you
You take me places I don't know

Because all I have
And now all I've got
And, yeah, all I have
And now all I've got
And, yeah, all I have
And, yeah, all I've got
And now all I've got is you
It's nothing but the truth
All I've got is you
And it's nothing but the truth
All I've got is you

All I've got is you

 

 

Must find new Happy medium

I feel like writing

and if there's someone to write it, there's someone to read it.

I don't know actually what i intend for this feral blog post to be about but perhaps i should start with the fact that i have sort of successfully survived first year of uni. fuck me, how time has flown. it feels like only yesterday that i was on holiday skiing, falling in love, and preparing myself for my interview that was to happen literally moments after my flight landed and hell broke lose. but here i am lying in my white metal bed with fairy lights all round, a total of 15 cushions and one rather proud teddy bear named Angus... writing to you, whoever the fuck you are, or aren't.. (there might be no one ever to read this ever..) TO SAY - I won. I did a year at LCF. and suprisingly to most- i hated every fucking second of it. I darent start slagging it off too much because can you imagine if my dreams of being a writer came true and poor little london college of fashion read me slating them and got offended and out right pissed off. I think id be offended if i was them, seeing as my opinion on their teaching is clearly and almost certainly held in high esteem.

so i did that. and suddenly this giant metaphorical boulder just hit me in the face and was like shagging christ ted, wheres your diary? you havnt written in that in forever. Since you moved home even. Where is the little bastard? im going to have to hunt for that little shit piece otherwise i'll end up writing more and more turd on here and people will start to question my thought processes.

Ive decided i dont want to go to university any more. i mean i probably wont drop out because then what the fuck would i do, but the fact of the matter is i just dont like it, i dont like all the computer stuff we have to do, i certainly dont like photoshop, illustrator, graphics pad, draw me if you can work out how to even find a toolbar, i look like lines on white, and all the other fucking horrible HORRIBLE programs they try to make you use. im not cut out for that shit. im all about the straight forward word document. the odd tweet. the casual facebook stalk. definitely more than the odd tweet actually. and then you know - photo booth. i like to video myself singing sometimes to see if im good and if i could be a popstar or not. in fact one time actually my boyfriend and his best friend where bullying me for a while about having a lazy eye so i videoed myself reading into the camera to see if it was true. it was true. ive got a sort of nice little blink action going on when i read. (why did i just tell my blog that? beeeping bollocks.)

Maybe this should have a point rather than a clear ventilation operation.

I found these really awesome leggings by an Australian make called Black Milk.

http://www.blackmilkclothing.com/collections/leggings

I'll post some pictures tomorrow but for now i simply must go to sleep and dream about stroking baby snow leopards.

peace

I wrote this last term. Rent is due again TODAY

Safe paraphernalia. It's been a while. I've been a lazy little fucker and not written anything great in a long bloody time but I'm getting my arse into gear, putting my left foot forward (but which one is that?) and gonna start writing away like a busy happy elf... . .. . . .The great thing about that is- I'm always having these glorious little self analysis sessions in which I make outlandish promises to be good and write lots, but trust me, my diary (di, with a heart over the 'i') and i both know these big promises are usually the shipwrecks of my life and ordinarily they sink. Let's make it happen. Ted gets back on track ahoy. So I'm in love, with a boy, he's well nice. And im finally at university studying lingerie which is really wonderful and last night I made a sample bra cup out of wax cotton which was kindly donated by said boy in the form of an old barbour . Lovely. It looks pretty trendy -if I didn't make it genuinely a thousand sizes to big for my own obviously terribly voluptuous knockers then I'd definitely tit tape the waxy two piece cup (with decorative purposely jagged frill) right up . It won't fit though so I won't. Did you know I'm writing this on the tube! That means no access to a thesaurus which is my favorite book in the world- might have to invest in a really proper cute leather bound one maybe this is a potential gift idea for those that love me . (if any do) it smells particularly like fart on the tube this morning.. this eggy odour isn't mice, and by mice I mean nice. . And by nice I really mean the smell here is simply nose melting I think the fumes are going to kill me . Hello its Monday, it's 10.23am and it smells. This train is ready to depart .. Thank holy Mary Mather of god I can get off. So some more about my project right now. I began my treturus journey and I can't spell 'treturus' phonetically it's tret chur usz but that's not helping me a great deal at a few galleries and places of general public interest. I'm just grabbing a coffee with Bronte so I'll write more when I'm not otherwise engaged doing other things. I just remembered I need to pay my rent.