BYE!

Well, my many many dear devoted readers, I am off to Woodford Folk Festival tomorrow so will partying in a tent for a week and far away from computers. I am very excited to see such awesome legends as The Cat Empire and Kate Miller-Heidke. I am going with the family but also meeting friends and hope to party very much :D 


Hmm. I never use emotes. They look too corny. The one above will be the only one I will ever use. 


Useless tangents aside, I am all packed and ready to go:

Observe my reliable Converse and blister-proof bandaids. All you really need. Also, the book, The Book of Other People, edited by Zadie Smith is BRILLIANT. The characters are wonderful and fantastically flavoursome. I command you to go buy it now. 

And don't be fooled by the Ray Ban glasses case. Inside are aviators I bought for $12.50. Classy. 

Toodles!

Sorry is revoked

My friend Yani brought up an interesting point. When I apologize for not blogging to the millions of eager readers I most obviously have, I should bear in mind that really I should apologize to the real readers of this blog: me, Yani, Jemima and maybe a lonely fat man with twenty-seven cats and a laptop. So sorry to those people. And you. 


Oh how popular I am. 

Sorry.

I know it's been a while, so to make up for it, here is something to amuse you: my friend Marina's blog. She is hilarious and quite mad. Enjoy. 

This is what happens when stupid teenagers think they can win against the sun.

So yesterday, I went to the city beach with some friends. The city beach, for those who are unaware, is a beach substitute for us city-dwellers, which has sand (over concrete) and a chlorinated pool. There are also fountains and parks and cafes and it is generally a nice place to spend the day.
However, after spending the whole day there, I discovered that I had been so burnt that it appeared as though someone had boiled me. Now my back and shoulders are so red and painful that it feels like I might just burst into flames at every moment. I have applied thus far: 


Moisturizer
Cold water
Aloe cream
Aloe gel
More moisturizer
Sunburn cream
Icepacks
Cold flannels
More aloe. 


The only result is that my skin has dimmed a bit from strawberry to a bit of a more human colour.


WEAR SUNSCREEN. 

Interesting People #2

Today, I young boy came into the clothes shop, where I work. He was very skinny and about 14 years old. He came up to me and said "do you have any jeans for a boy like me?"


I thought it was cute. 

Consumerism, where art thou?

So I recently got a job. A job of which I am quite proud, in fact. And this job means I actually have money. To spend. This has never happened to me before. Living from pocket-money, scrounging for cash: those days are gone. So I was prowling the shops, as I have always done, trying on clothes, speculating on what I could afford with my newfound riches, and I tried on many things, most of which I planned to buy. 

So I got to the counter and handed over my garment to the overly perky shop assistant, secretly very proud of how nonchalant I was, when it hit me. A wave of ... what? NON-CONSUMERISM. Suddenly, pointless, irritating thoughts came into my head. 

"Why do I need this?"

"Why am I am buying this?"

"This is meaningless, it won't make me happy." 

And the like. 

Someone else might be enlightened by these thoughts. Oh good, she finally found some inner peace and might move on to deeper things. But for me, this is terrible. Because I enjoy shopping, I think it contributes to my overall teenage-girldom. And I don't know what to do without it. Buying things usually makes me happy - why is this happening to me?? I don't what to be profound. I want to buy things and feel satisfied! Now I don't know what to spend my money on. Children's hospitals? Food for the homeless? If I was half as good a person and I like to think I am, I would. But I need the rush of buying something fabulous - I am an addict. They don't call it retail therapy for nothing. 

Our father, who art in heaven. 

Please grant me my usual selfish, consumerist attitude and send this meaningful, well-adjusted gimmick back to the suppliers. 

Amen.   

Interesting people

I love interesting people. People fascinate me, and I thought it might be fun to record particularly awesome or interesting people I see or meet. Today, I met a man who sold me a very expensive block of chocolate, and successfully made me forget that it was very expensive because he had a thick greek accent and grinned at me very gladly when I asked to try the peanut butter chocolate (incredible, if you were wondering) because apparently all the "young ones" like it. He was very nice and genuinely seemed to like his job, which is rare and enjoyable. 

Another interesting person is a waitress I once met at a cafe in my hometown of Brighton, England 

Voila. Isn't it cute?




















I remember her she was crying uncontrollably. She didn't seem to be very aware of it but tears were streaming down her face. She served us without any indication that she was upset, but just cried. I wondered at the time whether she had some kind of crying disorder. She was thin, and wearing an apron with straight, mousy hair tied up with a rubber band. We ordered a lot of sandwiches and she just cried. I wonder if she's still crying. Eventually a man took over and she turned away and wiped her eyes, but it left an impression on me. It's very rare that you see that kind of emotion in strangers (especially in England, where shaking hands is seen as wildly emotional), and it interested me. I hope she's ok. 


I should clarify that I no longer live in bonny England. I moved to Australia due to an allergy to the cold and the desire to see if the people living here really are all surfers and/or wombats (they are, if you were wondering).  

Christmas

You might think December's a weird time to start a blog, and you'd be right. I must be honest and say that it is mostly because the holidays have just started and I wanted something to do. But a little part of it, admittedly, is because for me these holidays are just that - gaps between hellish schooling. Being Jewish, reform, I don't, never have and probably never will celebrate Christmas. This entertains me more than anything. I don't feel particularly left out, mainly because I'm a cynic and we are arrogant and miserable about most things, especially corny things people seem to enjoy. When everyone else is singing about angels and wearing red elf hats and holding you down in order to ring bells in your ears for hours while continually yelling "ARE YOU JOLLY YET?", I feel a bit superior, a bit indie, a bit eccentric. Look at me, I don't celebrate your holiday. I'm different. Take that, society! No, mostly it's because I don't like carols and the idea of a fat, bearded man creeping into your house at night to watch you sleep terrifies me. Thanks, but I'm happy with the invisible Hanukkah fairy flitting around, you can keep your jolly pedophile. 
I don't mean to be offensive, I really don't. I joke, honestly, I do, but surely even the hardcore Christians can see the humour in this? Kids dressed as donkeys and wisemen and stars and little candy canes which no-one seems to like but everyone eats anyway and family screaming fits and all the rest of it. It entertains me. It's like everyone's so pent up with joyful cheer that they throw themselves into Christmas and even later, when they have received fourteen awful knitted jumpers 

and eaten so much they can only roll over to scream at their dysfunctional family because some far-off aunt made a veiled remark about the steamed potatoes, they continue to tell themselves "this is wonderful, everyone loves Christmas, I'm so happy I could just die". 


I enjoy telling people I don't celebrate Christmas. They always look at me like I've just told them I eat puppies. First there's the obvious shock, then the sudden realization that they should not look obviously shocked and so hide the obvious shock under an awkward smile. But then there is the pitiful look. God, you poor thing. I bet you're an orphan. With some terminal disease. Let me bathe you in Yorkshire puddings by the light of the nativity fire. 


It occurs to me that I sound very, very bitter.I don't mean to be. I created this blog only to laugh at life in general and enjoy it. Sorry! 


Sincerely, 
The Grinch. 

To Begin...

The Pierces - Turn On Billie



I thought I should link to the song from which I pulled the fabulous quote: "We'll paint the town blue 'cause baby, red is so passé." The Pierces are a New York band who pretty much just jumped from 1920s Burlesque into 2010, taking with them spotlights, xylophones and words like "passé". Don't you love them? Makes me think of seedy Manhattan bars and black silk things like garters. Anyway, I figured that this pretty much sums up my life. Not the seedy bars, thankfully, but the fairly irrelevant thoughts that come from this kind of picture: life is for living and paint is for painting; colours are great and trends are overrated and those who take life too seriously should sit in the corner and not whine to the rest of us. But let's leave life philosophies to later. After all, this is a blog - a stupid thing that floats around in the internet and sometimes finds its way into people's heads for no good reason. Half diary, half show-n'-tell, I guess.