a) Okay people, here's a quick quiz. If you were to throw me on a desert island which of these three things would you need to provide before I chewed my own arm off and threw the dismembered limb at you? Is it 1) cigarettes; 2) alcohol or 3) coffee? If you answered all of the above you're WRONG, and you THINK you know me but you don't really. I can survive without alcohol, even if I become dull and boring and a blotch on the face of the planet that would have to be picked out by blackhead tweezers. I can survive without cigarettes--if you wrestled me to the ground and said, "NO MORE CIGARETTES OR YOU WILL DIE TOMORROW!"-- and then there might be a chance that I will develop superhuman strength and say, "You will die, you stupid fucker, give me back my cigarettes!" but yeah, I will not eat own appendages. The correct answer, and now, pay attention, because I'm only going to say this once, is answer three; coffee. I cannot be expected to live on this planet without my daily dose of, oh, something like five hundred million cups of coffee, and there's no reason why I should live on this planet anymore when one of my God-given rights is being taken away from me. But you know, the thing about God? He/She/It/The-power-that-bes is MEAN. And nasty. Take that, God! I smote you! I smote you right here on this blog. (wait, sorry, didn't mean it, don't make nasty things happen to me, I'm sorry, I wuv you, twuly) Anyway, *ahem* where was I? Yes, so mean ol' nasty God, with all the mean ol' nasty powers and ha-ha-you-think-you're-so-smart-but-I-am-smarter-because-if-you-don't-believe-in-the-evolution-theory-I-MADE-you-so-suck-it-up type thinking, has in fact, taken away the one thing that I love and desire and that I think is mankind's coolest invention, right up there next to electricity and the telephone, ooh, and America's Next Top Model (which, in the spirit of honesty, I must admit, I love. There was an episode last night, which was very nailbiting and exciting, where one chick, who was very blonde and pretty burst into tears and said she was gay and she couldn't hold it in anymore and another chick, who, go figure, was also very blonde and pretty--I'm sensing a trend here--rolled up her eyes and fainted. Good fun. I love fainting people on tv. It's such excellent watching) which is coffee. How has it been taken away from me? I'm so glad you asked that question, because everyone must know of this conspiracy that surrounds me. If I drink more than three cups a day, I get a horrible, sharp, stabbing headache all over the front of my head and it isn't nice. It's not a very nice thing to do at all. I hope if god (see, I am so mad at you, I'm not even capitalising your letter. I smote you, I say again! I smotest! I smite!) is reading this, he/she/blah blah blah will take the goddamn (oooooh) hint and take away the headaches.
b) Since we are in rantifying mood, clearly, I think little note to anonymous commenters of last post should be inserted here, and maybe, I will not be angry, and maybe you will think this is humourous because you, my un-anonymous reader who leaves NICE comments, rock, and then everybody shall be happy, except the trolls and they cannot be happy because they are trolls and it is against Basic Troll Personality to be happy and why would you want to mess with basic troll personality? And maybe I should also say that I don't think writing about sex makes me promiscuous at all, and everyone does it, even your parents at one point and if you want to think your PARENTS are all these strange and really very unfeminist things you have called me, then, well, there is a slight problem with our perspectives and maybe you should go look at some other, very fine, blogs that deal with the lives of people much more expert at writing about sex than I am, but, I should warn you (because I am nice and you are not) you probably won't be encouraged to leave dirty comments there either. (Oh, and I'm also not going to sleep with you. Just clarifying. You have a nice day now!)
c) I went for karaoke night the other day and Mika was there and he sang I Want To Break Free and it was good. It was so good that I called people and held up the phone only they could only hear me giggling like a maniac in the background, which is a pretty noise, even if I do say so myself, but it blocked out the Glory that is Mika, and EVERYONE should hear a fat, young Punjabi singer with a gold and diamond necklace around his neck and a huge M pendant singing Queen at least once in their lives. Everybody. I was going to sing too, but I was too shy.
d) I have a new job! Starting next month! Where I will no longer be journalist! Who woulda thunk? (More details later)