Monday, 11 November 2013

Sci Fi

It's been a while. Don't have anything to say really. On Friday Olivia came down to London for her birthday and she said my eyebrows have never looked better. I glanced in the mirror so my eyebrows could see my proud face and I saw them give each other a little high five. I know you don't believe me and I don't care. To be honest, my current eyebrows are a result of two years hard graft. I stopped having them threaded and started plucking and trimming instead, organic eyebrows if you will.

While we're on the subject, a quick word for all my fellow eyebrow enthusiasts reading- I'd like to retract my earlier sentence about Rimmel's eyebrow pencil. Not because they are paying me to (sadly I don't think I will ever make any money from this blog, unless I stop swearing and start taking photos sipping bubble tea lattes or posting pictures of what I'm wearing every day* which I will never do because I have don't have a big enough vocabulary or good enough camera to do either) but because I have since grown to like it.

The secret is just a smudge on the inner eyebrows, then blending it through the rest of the brow. I've decided against the Benefit Brow Zings because, if I had a wax and a powder at my disposal, I know I'd  slowly go further and further away from the hairy, arched line that lies between Strong Brow and Insane Sci-Fi Villain.

"Have I overdone them a bit?"
In other news, I can't walk in heels anymore. Gutted for me. Apart from one pair of really comfy H&M platforms that I can run for a bus in, I only really wear wedge boots, so I treated myself to a pair of basic black heels from New Look last week. 'They are huge, but I'm very good at walking in heels,' I thought, like an idiot.

Cut to Friday night and I'm walking to the tube station at one mile per hour, gritting my teeth as I hobble over cobbles. A couple of hours later and I'm falling down Olivia's friend's stairs, thinking I can regain my balance right up to the last second, when I realise I'm actually going down. I untangled my legs from underneath myself as I fell, landing miraculously in a side-sitting position, as if I was in a family photo.

I can't believe I didn't hurt myself, I fell from the middle of the stairs all the way to the bottom.

The next day I was dreading work, because I was working a double shift, 11.30am until midnight, but it was actually fine. The shift manager bought me a croissant and a coffee from Pret a Manger and at 3 o'clock I had a two hour break, so I ordered a burger and then fell asleep in the cellar, stretched out between two broken chairs with my coat over me.

When I woke up I had a coldsore.

The beast that never sleeps.

Unfortunately, after Olivia's birthday night, I seemed to have lost my oyster card, which had a weekly pass loaded on to it. I held off cancelling it because I knew I'd find it somewhere, but on Sunday afternoon I finally called up Oyster and cancelled it. Then I found it in my coat pocket and cried hysterically into my pillow for about ten minutes.

I can't believe it. I even had a dream on Saturday night that I found it... I KNEW I'd find it! It was in my fucking coat pocket, where I keep it all the time. I just didn't look properly.


Anyway. Anyway. I've just remembered I've got the end of my book to finish- 'The Algebraist' by Iain M.Banks. I've read Iain Bank's books before- 'The Wasp Factory' and 'Espedair Street'- but I've never read any of his sci-fi novels, which he publishes under Iain M.Banks. I picked it up in my brother's bedroom over the summer and started reading it. It's a pretty old book, I wondered where it had come from but the other day I noticed a sinister note written on the inside cover about 'modified swarms' and 'group minds' which has got to be my dad.

At first I found it The Algerbraist hard to get into, I couldn't get my head around the descriptions of things. The vast hub curved over the floating scape of wheels, widening into a ridge a thousand klicks high... That sort of thing. I had no idea what was going on but as I got into it I found myself actually looking up from the book and thinking: WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT?

I'm very, very nearly at the end.

I'm seeing my dad this weekend, I can return it to him. I'm going to Liverpool to see a play that someone in our year at uni wrote, there'll be a few of us going so it will be like a big uni reunion. I planned on saving up and having a blow out but instead spent all my money and now have a fiver for the entire weekend.

I can hear something, a muffled sound. It's coming from within my wardrobe...

Hold on...

It was my new shoes that I can't walk in, having a massive fucking laugh at my expense.

*I did think about doing this for a joke, putting up photos of my day to day wear which normally consists of holey leggings and an inside-out vest top with my kimono over the top, above the caption: 'Today I'm feeling welfare luxe, this look will take me from the dole office straight to the cocktail bar' but I fear the irony would be lost on some people and I'd just end up looking like a class A dickhead.


  1. I can see why you couldn't resist those shoes! Put them on a mantelpiece or bookcase as ornaments so you can admire them, even if you don't dare wear them. GM xx
    p.s. not another cold sore! :( Hopefully people will be distracted by your gorgeous eyebrows and won't notice. :)

    1. Oh god, I don't want everyone to think that I think I have gorgeous eyebrows... I just think I have done the best I can with them and that is all you ask for, eyebrow-wise. Thanks, only a fellow cold sore sufferer can sympathise with my moaning!

  2. Well, as far as I can tell from your profile picture on what seem to be the Petite ceinture, you actually look gorgeous...even if the picture mainly shows your back. My instinct seldom lied to me.