Tuesday, 8 January 2013

Deely Boppers

HA! Just bought two tickets (this time I'll make sure at least one person comes with me) to see SBTRKT at Social Club next month, buzzing like a bee in deely boppers...

Oh my God.

Don't tell me you don't know what deely boppers are.

They're those headbands with two springs attached like antennae and there's normally something fluffy bouncing about on the end on each spring. Well imagine someone bopping about in a pair of those, and on one of the fluffy balls/furry shamrocks/flashing plastic hearts, a little bumble bee is perched and he's going bzzzz bzzzzz bzzzzz.

That's me, that is.

It's just a DJ set but still, I'm so happy they're not playing at Showcase, or 'Choc Ice' as it shall hence be known. Kayt just reminded me of the time me, Olivia, Kayt and Julia went to Wanderlust and afterwards one of the DJ's girlfriends kept asking us if we wanted a choc ice... turns out she was saying 'Showcase'. Obviously none of us wanted to go to... It's a shame because we were all quite up for choc ices.

Shiiiiit- I was just going to mention how Kat's boyfriend Ricky uses the word 'choc ice' to mean a dickhead and how it is a very appropriate name for a club like Showcase... but I have just seen on the internet that ages ago Rio Ferdinand got in trouble for branding Ashley Cole a 'choc ice'- apparently people thought he was saying that Ashley Cole was 'black' on the outside and 'white' on the inside, or something... Am I being naive or was everyone else being a bit racist, reading into an innocent slang word. I don't understand what people mean when they say that black people are acting like white people and vice versa, because People Of The Same Race Do Not All Act The Same.

In other news...

Jesus Prawn has escaped the tank: either he has ascended to heaven over the New Year; or he was really just Houdini Prawn all along, pretending to be the messiah as part of some sick publicity stunt. Seriously, it's a small tank and I've squished my face against every wall- he ain't in there.

Also, today I looked through all of my Facebook profile pictures like a vain, boring idiot. My punishment for shamelessly looking through so many photos of myself? Realising that my nose is wider than my mouth.

Still, I'm glad to be back in Paris, even if I was crying about it before I left England, as per usual. I had such a lovely holiday- I managed to escape the countryside and actually see people this time. (Once again I was amazed at how cheap everything is- you can get three J├Ągerbombs for ten quid in Manchester! In Paris you couldn't even get one for that price.)

Saying that, I did spend an awful lot of time lying on the sofa as well, one hand on the remote and the other rummaging through a bowl of Christmas treats... suddenly I would became aware that my hand was grasping at empty wrappers and I'd realise that I'd finished yet another box of chocolates/tin of biscuits/block of cheese. I ate so many that I couldn't distinguish a Caramel Praline from a Whiskey Truffle. Chocolate has lost all meaning.

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