Saturday, 25 December 2010


I'm gonna be AFK (away from keyboard) for a week- don't have too much fun on NYE (New Year's Eve) without me.

Friday, 24 December 2010

Bad Presents

Do you ever open up a gift all excited-like
Just to think: have they even met me?

First of all, just so this whole post isn’t a massive ungrateful dig at people I know, here are three things I will ALWAYS accept and show gratitude for:
1. Tights: I’m obsessed with them. I’d even be happy with opaque black ones you bought from a garage.
2. Nice smellies: buy me Radox bubbles and I’ll be laughing. I always want these things but forget to buy them. BUY THEM FOR ME. If they come from somewhere super-nice like LUSH or The Body Shop then I’ll love you long time even more.
3. Postcards/Cards With Nice Pictures: I like them and they’re also cheap. Come on, you can’t go wrong.

But my dear friends and family often do not choose to buy me things I like. Sometimes, it is as if they are only buying me these things to anger me- and not even like “lol it’s a joke present” where you might not appreciate the gift in itself- but the thought behind it makes up for that, but just- things I detest.

I am famously someone who does not drink hot drinks. So why, I wonder, do I get bought so many frickin mugs. And they are hideous and/or offensive mugs at that. Here’s one that sits on my bookshelf that I have never touched. I am not into cartoon characters okay? Let’s just get this straight. Or pastel colours for that matter. And I only like things that are “cute” if they have cats on.

Here is an offensive mug my dad bought me.

Sick. I think I gave it to a jumble sale. I hate Jamie Oliver, I hate the colour-scheme and I don’t like to advertise my failings as a woman.

ORNAMENTS: I am not an 80-year-old woman. The amount of ornaments I have given to charity is appalling. DO NOT WANT.

As a matter of fact, does anyone want? I will give this away to any willing home. It says Gemini on the other side?


Avon perfume. It smells like embalming fluid. Either get me nice perfume or just buy me chocolate. I also hate how they shamelessly rip off other brands- one year I got Avon’s Sexy 4 U, which is totally trying to be CK in 2 U.


Spatulas. THANKS NAN.

Also Merry Christmas/Bah Humbug as applicable. 

Wednesday, 22 December 2010


Y’all may have noticed that I’m not writing about Christmas- and no, it’s not for religious reasons; I just hate all the early hype about it. I promise a Christmas special on xmas eve- no earlier, no later.

Well, today’s post is going to be one that reveals a lot about me, and is very close to my heart. So like, you’re not allowed to laugh.
Basically I’m going to tell you about my embarrassing celebrity crushes. And I’m not going to wuss out and like say genuinely attractive people and then be like “oh how embarrassing lolololol”. I am actually semi-repulsed by these men- but I so would- given the chance. 

1. Jeremy Paxman
I know I bitched about older gents in a previous post. But like.. it’s not the physical that makes me yearn for Paxman- and it’s not political either. What really gets me going as far as Paxman is concerned; is his role as quizmaster on University Challenge. UC is one of my favourite programmes on telly- and Paxman just makes it. My favourite thing he does is that disproving look at those silly students when they fail to recall a quite obvious answer about Spenser’s Faerie Queene or quantum physics or some other frankly elementary subject. Oh Jeremy… *sigh*

  2. Anton Du Beke
I don’t really watch Strictly Come Dancing, but when I do it is only for Anton. I love how he’s consistently paired with the most appalling dancers but they always get far in the competition because of Anton’s comedic choreography and his general suave style. How bad he looks in his Latin ensembles just makes me like him more. I also love his voice- he just seems like such a gent.

 3. Rafael Nadal
Rafa is not the most attractive tennis player on the scene, and, as much as I hate Federer- I can see he is handsome in a way Nadal will never achieve.  But, perversely for someone as obsessed with good English as I am- I only like him because of how bad his spoken English is. Watching him being interviewed just brings me endless joy. That little Spanish lisp of his! It just makes me want to wrap myself around him.

4. CJ from Eggheads
CJ is my favourite Egghead. I think if you looked at some stats you would probably find out he is one of the worst Eggheads, but this only endears him to me more. I’ve even written him a fan letter- and I totally got a reply (<3 you CJ). I actually think CJ might be gay- because of his penchant for floral shirts and how before his quizzing days he was a model- but frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. It’s never stopped me before.

5. Stephen Fry
I don’t even need to explain, do I?

P.S please comment on this with any embarrassing crushes you have- and you're not allowed to say anyone that you've heard other people say are sexy. Okay?

Tuesday, 21 December 2010


I was just sat in the bath flicking through Cosmo (don’t judge me) when I came across this article:

Despite the classic Cosmopolitan hyperbolic tagline which makes it seem as if it’s going to be about some sort of SMS-related suicide pact- it’s actually about a girl who crashed her car while texting… so not really a “new deadly craze” seeing as I’ve certainly been texting for six years already and I’m not exactly technologically forward-thinking, and since when have car accidents been classed as a craze?

Anyway. This has got me thinking. Am I addicted enough to technology that it could endanger my life? You read all these scare-mongering stories in the paper about kids getting RSI through using their phones too much and last week I saw a documentary about video game addiction- not so much risking their lives, but certainly ruining them. So yeah, what about me?

Of course, I couldn’t go the same way as the girl in the article seeing as I don’t drive and I think I probably never will.. but still, am I an addict? I’m not really into texting or gaming but there are four things I check on the internet:
1. My emails
2. This blog
3. The other blogs I read
4. Facebook

Now, what on this list could I live without… well, I only check my emails once a day and I never really get anything important so I don’t really care. This blog is kind of just me so it looks after itself- I don’t really have to moderate it.. and I don’t think that most visitors to it come for my writing, I mean check out what people googled to get here in the past week:
The other blogs I read are just for fun, and I can catch up on them at any time so it’s no biggie if I miss out. Facebook, however is somewhat different for me. I frequently think about packing it in for good and deleting my profile as I spend far too much time on it when I should be doing something constructive, but then there’s that horrible fear that if I delete it people won’t bother to contact me. Pathetic I know.
When I’m on holiday or something and I can’t check my Facebook for long stretches I get a bit edgy and I have no idea why.. does anyone else get that? It’s not like I expect people to write slander about me on my wall or something- but it feels as if it might happen when I can’t keep an eye on what’s going on.
One day I’ll man up and delete it: it bores me silly. It’s just a constant stream of  mundane events in other people’s lives and 80% of my friends on it are people I don’t like or barely know- so I actually couldn’t care less.

Okay, crunch time. I’ll make a pact with you.. I’ll delete it when I turn 25. Promise. Just like I’ll cut my hair off when I turn 30. These things are going to definitely happen, and if they don’t you have permission to do them to me without my consent.

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Brace Yourself

On Thursday I got my braces removed after two years of having them.
Here’s me before:


Here’s me now:

My teeth feel really big and really smooth and I feel so American- it’s totally sketchy. I think my braces actually suited me and now I feel plainer than a schoolgirl in a hoody, jeggings and ugg boots.
 Also before you say anything I am well aware that I am a little old for braces but I sucked my thumb til I was 12 and they made me wait ages.

Braces aren’t seen much in the media as they are usually a bit of an adolescent thing and rich people can afford to get invisible ones. But you know, they feature in the lives of many people so I thought I’d talk about famous brace wearers.

1. Currently the most well-known metalmouth and someone who I am constantly compared to, hopefully because of my smarts and not cause’ve her name- is Ugly Betty.

When the programme started Betty was often mocked for her big blue braces, (which I am super jealous of cause they didn’t let me have colours) but soon it all calmed down and even Mark and Amanda accepted her for who she was. But in the last series they totally copped out and gave her a make-over which ended in her getting her braces off.
Betty; you were my last comrade in orthodontia and you’ve left me behind. Frankly I am disgusted.

2. Willy Wonka as a kid in the latest Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film.

I’m totally glad I never had a headset or any teeth out or those elastic band things.. seeing this makes me glad my teeth issues were minor.

3. Miley Cyrus.

There are various highly zoomed in pictures of Miley’s molars where people have speculated that she has braces. I’m not sure if the rumours are true but it is my belief that as she tries so hard to embody the average American teen in both her T.V. show and in her image for real life, she should have had normal braces; not these high-tech high-cost invisaline undercover braces.
My sexy NHS pair didn’t do me so badly, although they totally ruined my double life as a teen pop sensation and gave me away as being behind Susanna Alabama. Pahaha. 

rofl. Yours faithfully, 
Simon Cowell II

Monday, 13 December 2010

Stuff I Really Really Like

To follow the my list of things I hate I’m going to give you all a glimpse of all the little things in my life that make me smile.

1. Being a deliberate pain.
I like to do things to cause undue distress.. especially anonymously and to strangers. For example, I recently found someone’s National Insurance card on the street and kept it. Look look:
I have no clue who Donald William Morgan is but I’ve fully pikeyed his identity. Finders keepers losers weepers. (if you are DWM send me a scan of your passport and I might give you your card back.. maybe. Also look how nice I am retouching your NI number so real meanies don't pretend to be you)

It is also my dream to one day superglue a 50 pence piece to the floor and watch on as people fail to pick it up. Mwahahaha.
And to add to my Machiavellian persona I also like to pinch stuff, especially highly overpriced things. Stealing drinks at clubs is exceedingly good.

2. Loyalty cards.
If I lost my purse I’d be most depressed about losing my Boots and Subway cards rather than any money I’d had in it. You can earn money back- but I’ll never be able to regain the sense of satisfaction having these cards gives me. As a bit of a commitmentphobe they are the closest things I have to a long-term relationship, I mean, my Boots card has been in my life for six years! That’s what I call perseverance.

I don’t have as many as my brother. He takes it to extremes and his wallet weighs about as much as a small child.

3. Unnecessarily shortening words and also talking in German occasionally.
It all started out with “soz”- I mainly used it as a way to enrage my mother (totally worked) and now I just shorten as much as I possibly can. Any shop can be shortened (or actually lengthened in some cases) as so: Tesco=Tezzers, Morrisons=Mozzers, Subway=Subbers, Topshop= Toppers etc etc then there’s always shortening various adjectives; delicious becomes delish, ridiculous becomes ridic, beautiful, beaut- you know, all pretty standard. But my personal piéce de resistance is speaking out loud in what used to be called ‘text-talk’ but no one texts like that anymore so I don’t know what to call it. Personal favourites are saying lol instead of bothering to laugh, WTF-ing, saying oh em gee all the time as well as saying BRB when nipping off for a second. But the CREAM OF THE CROP is shortening a shortening. Ceebs is my lifeblood- it is a truncation of the acronym CBA, meaning can’t be arsed- btw any Americans reading this it means can’t be bothered. Throwing in a few German words now and again can only add to your mystique. To talk in your own personal dialect is very irritating. So I love it.

4. Collecting weird images.
There are pictures available to us in many mediums, but the best ones seem to come from magazines that cost around 58p and have an exclamation mark in their title like “That’s Life!” or “Love It!” or “Take a Break!” as they are generally absurd or on postcards bought in Europe. I got this one in Hamburg: isn’t she brill?!

And this one is from Berlin- I don’t have a clue why a ginger in a mini-bearskin is ironing the German flag on the Brandenburger Tor either, but it is definitely fantastic. 

The little things are always best, don't you think?

Friday, 10 December 2010

Stuff I Hate

I realise that I’ve been a bit absentee recently- but I’ve had essays and then I had to go home for the orthodontist. And I’m also acutely aware that my last few posts have been pretty negative and about things I hate, so today I’m going to get it out of my system for a while by giving you a list of all my pet hates. And I PROMISE that next time I’ll write you a compilation of all the things I love. Okay? Right. Onto my list.

Bad Eyebrows

I’m not talking about big eyebrows, I kind of love them and think they can be very stylish if worn properly. There are two types of eyebrows I despise:
1. Ones that look like tadpoles.
2. The ones that are so thin you couldn’t have drawn them on with a biro, which are especially creepy when they are poker straight.

What the hell do you think they look like; they’re bloody appalling. Unless you have alopecia you were born with a decent pair- why on earth would you mutilate them like that. You either look super serious, constantly bemused or just plain ridiculous. GUH.

Shop-bought Sandwiches

Why oh why does every single sandwich you buy pre-made in a shop have mayonnaise in it? Mayonnaise is a repulsive substance and I know I am not alone in my hatred of it. It is greasy and slimy and viscous and bleeeeeeeeeeeeugh.
Furthermore, when you make mayonnaise yourself it is a bright yellow colour as it is made of egg yolks and oil- so why is it white.. it’s an unnatural abomination, that’s why.

People Wearing The Same Clothes As Me

I’m making my way innocently down the street, minding my own business- when BAM I’m confronted by someone wearing my shoes.. it makes me feel uneasy and scared. It’s like they’ve gotten into my mind or something. How did they know I was going to wear that exact thing on that precise day?
Gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Public Misspellings

I’m cool with bad spelling/grammar in private correspondence, as long as it still makes sense then that’s alright. But, when these affronts to the English language are on signs or menus or facebook statuses then I lose it. In Britain it is law for you to attend school until you’re sixteen- and if after all those years you still don’t know how to use the appropriate there, they’re or their then you are obviously a failure.
Today I saw coffee spelt ‘cofe’ on the front of a shop

That is all.

Monday, 6 December 2010

Plastic Fantastic

Recently I’ve been watching a helluvalotta Nip/Tuck (and I’m totally hating on Julia- she’s such an abhorrent whory nag, I’ve seen more likable characters on Crimewatch.) and I’ve decided to say my piece on plastic surgery.

It is my personal opinion that it should be a last resort for people, it’s usually kind of a superficial reason to risk your life for; and for me the risks outweigh the gains- although I’m sure I’ll probably change my mind when I’m a withered old hag.

Breast augmentation is of course the most popular form of cosmetic surgery in both the UK and the US. But why do so many women put themselves through all this? As a girl with *ahem* more than adequate mammaries I’ve never really considered getting a boob job, but many women feel like they have fallen short in some way by having small/average breasts, and claim to be having the surgery for their own self-esteem.

Okay, anyone considering getting this type of surgery seriously needs to talk to someone with big boobs. They’re super inconvenient and mostly are more of a curse than a blessing- if you want me to explain in further detail and specifics drop me a private line.
Secondly, they mostly look bloody ridiculous. Fake boobs are so artificially round that no one in their right mind’s going to believe you were born with them.. wait, you aren’t born with breasts, scratch that. But anyway, they make you look like you’ve only gotten them so you can be a glamour model or some other male-centric profession based entirely on the physical- and duh no one wants to look like that; at least, no one reading this does cause I’m assuming that if you can read that you’re smart enough not to.

The most popular non-invasive procedure is botox, which is, for those of you not in the know; is when you get a poison injected into your face to paralyse the muscles so you look totally wrinkle free. I find it funny how you see so many actresses who’ve had it done, how’re you supposed to express emotion if you can’t move your damn face.
But do you really want to look like THIS

Anyway, my message is to embrace your mosquito bites and love your haggard and weather-beaten face. Surgery is totes gross and should only happen when you REALLY NEED IT. Like if you have an accident/deformity or something.

Plus Nicky Hambledon Jones, you look rough anyway.

Wednesday, 1 December 2010

Happy HIV/AIDS Day!!

As you all should be well aware the 1st of December is World HIV/AIDS awareness day. And if you’re not aware you damn well should be now.
The main jist of this post; to quote Pooh Bear is

We all know that HIV/AIDS is a sexually transmitted disease; well, you can be born with it or get it through blood transfusions or needles but nowadays they vet donated blood for it so MOSTLY you’re going to get it through getting it on.
You may have dismissed the disease as something only present in the developing world but in fact 83,000 people in Britain currently have it- knowingly or not. So we should all be vigilant- you can’t outwardly tell if someone has it unless they’re in the last stages of the disease but even then, they could appear to be a badly kept supermodel.
The virus is most easily spread via the blood, which means that you’re most susceptible if you partake in backdoor sex (sorry my glittery darlings) as that passage is delicate.
A great film that shows the reality of being an AIDS victim is Philadelphia with Tom Hanks:

Of course AIDS is the most horrid venereal disease- but there are others which can be quite grim or even fatal.

So it is of the utmost importance that you all remain safe.
The Pill is not enough, you need some sort of barrier- i.e a condom or femidom (lol does anyone actually use them) and diseases can also be spread via fellatio or cunnilingus so keep it wrapped up at alllllllll times- dental dams are available for lady-eaters if you should so wish.
Barrier protection is cheap to buy, even free in some cases so you have no excuse.

And you should DEFINITELY get yourself tested before you engage in unsafe sex- and only do it with someone you trust. Cause like, if they’ve got a little something on the side, you’re essentially sleeping with them too- no matter how skanky they are.

Also look what you can get!

If that’s not enough to get you all wrapped up then there’s no hope for you.

Monday, 29 November 2010

Sugar Daddies

When a girl’s down on her luck- it’s always an option to ensnare someone rich and elderly, get them to put a ring on it then wait it out til they kick the bucket.
I mean, if Anna Nicole Smith can do it so could I! We’re both voluptuous blondes with a penchant for stripping after all.

But, I don’t quite think I could. Anyone over forty makes me think of my father and that’s all a bit Freudian and unnerving. I don’t even usually find older celebrities attractive.. George Clooney is forty-nine for Jesus’ sake amen!
(look at those crows feet)

They probably are all wrinkly and syphilis-ridden underneath their clothes- I don’t care if they have more “experience”- they probably started out pre-the existence of condoms! I can't imagine how so many girls do it- and how many men think they can get away with it.. I’ve been leered at by many a geriatric in my time. (and it isn’t just men, we met an old lady in a mobility scooter who offered Mohawk a lift up to Manchester in her shiny new Zafira)

In my mind men are not like fine wines that only get better with age- they are glasses of milk that should be left well alone once they’re past their best.

What do you all think? Boys are you into cougars? Was this what Meatloaf was singing about when he’d do anything for love but he won’t do that?

Comment with any responses? Tell me if I am normal!

EDIT: Oh! I forgot, there is one exception.. Don Draper mmm he's so beautiful. Also James Bond in the books.

Saturday, 27 November 2010

The Time Warp

I was watching a programme on iplayer (Turn Back Time: The High Street) and this, combined with watching another programme on 4OD (Time Warp Wives- and yes I’m aware that I watch too much TV) has planted an idea seed in the compost of my mind.

I think I was born in the wrong era. People say this all the time but they’ve not looked at it from all angles, could they really live without facebook, the Xbox or Primark? I realise I’m criticising these people whilst writing a blog- but I suppose in the olden days I’d have written for the Parish Newsletter or something. Anyway, the time in which I think I’d feel most at home is during the second world war, perhaps the fifties or sixties would be trendier but my reasons are as follows:

Back then a woman was a woman; they wore dresses never trousers (love it) red lipstick (double love it) and medium-height heeled shoes (practical). They were comparably modest ensembles, not too much chest or legs; perfect, I'd have been the cat's meow. 
Check these ladies out:

Whilst many of our men would have been sent off to the front, I’d be willing to make that sacrifice if they all looked that dashing in their uniforms. Also, towards the end of the war we had American GIs come over- and flirting with British women was a common pastime for them.

The music was just so good! Lots of brass and crooners, no awful twanging and wailing like nowadays. And the best part of the music was the dances people held to keep up morale! I’d have loved to learn to jive, lindy hop or swing.

For most people, WW2 food would be a turn off.. there wasn’t much of it for starters- this was the age of rationing. There wasn’t much meat, sugar, butter or eggs and many other necessities ran short- but there were a lot of carrots, and guess what? Carrots are my fave.

Women’s Lib
While the men were at war women had to take up their jobs; so it was quite common to become a WREN, part of the Women’s Land Army, work in munitions factories or be a bus conductress. I think I’d have liked to do something like that, I’d have never been a VAD though, I’m too afraid of blood.

All in all I’d have been a jolly good sport during the war; I think it’d be worth dodging a few bombs for. 

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

Batty Girl

Okay, I just read this and the long and the short of it is that people, especially young people consider the music tastes of a potential partner to be an important factor in whether they’ll get with them. Which draws me to a conclusion I’ve reached time and time again- I am a gay man trapped inside a woman’s body.
elton john miss piggy gay pink muppets

My tastes in music go something like this: Cher, Prince, Madonna, Kate Bush, Dolly Parton, The GoGo’s, Beyoncé, Musicals, Lady GaGa, Disco generally and ABBA. (enjoy the youtubes) 

If I was to find a straight man that was into all that even I’d probably think he was a crafty butcher.

My hobbies too tend to bend towards the festive persuasion: singing, miming that I am singing, cats, glitter, Glee, watching reality T.V. shows (not x-factor but the good ones like ANTM and RuPaul’s Drag Race), cocktails and dressing up.

You may remark that these are not so much the activities of the friends of Dorothy, but rather typically female leisure pursuits. So perhaps I should become a Todger-Dodger.  But I just couldn’t… the thought of women *shudder* --

Furthermore, many of my friends… perhaps most of my friends are fruity. I didn’t do it on purpose, I befriend them then BAM the closet flies open and they’re in there dressed in multicoloured glitter and neck scarves/plaid.
Even my first boyfriend, alas- is gay.
If only my six year old self knew better than to fall for someone just cause he liked Barbie the same as I did… (luv you bby boi)

All this inadvertent association with the rainbow crowd has turned me into a massive Fag Hag. Basically, to those not down with the lingo- Karen from Will & Grace.
karen walker jack will grace fag hag faghag friends

And I’ve always wondered, am I alone in this? Is it a real syndrome? Can I call it gender-sexual-dysphoria and get a programme made on me for channel 4?

Does this happen to men? Do any of you think you’re psychological lesbians? Should I start a support group?

Actually, I kind of love it. And to quote the great Tyra Banks, it’s totally “fierce”.

(and fyi I’ve included a lot of links for definitions to all the lulzy euphemisms and nicknames I’ve used throughout this, I hope I’ve widened your vocabulary)

love you all,
a big shout out to all my sassy gay friends: especially the mohawked one who has no shame and asked me to do this. ok i love you all, but especially you.


Saturday, 20 November 2010

Poets and Hos

I am currently sat in the library writing an essay on a couple of poems; one of which is an imagined exchange between a Victorian prostitute and an old friend from the barton- if you're aware of what a barton is then you'll already know that yes, it is Thomas Hardy- and if you’re interested it’s called The Ruined Maid.

Anyway, I wanted to procrastinate but not entirely deviate from the topic. Therefore, today I’m going to grapple with the mammoth issue of having sex then getting paid for it, or- being a ho.

When prostitution and the media converge one of two things result, and you’re either going to be watching:
a) A news report or documentary about hookers getting murdered

b) A drama about a fictional prostitute

It all gets a bit serious when talking about real life events, so we’ll look at the portrayal of the fictional harlot.

Secret Diary of a Call Girl

Last year for some unbeknownst reason (I’m thinking it’s most likely the huge amount of sex on show) Secret Diary of a Call Girl starring Billie Piper became extremely popular amongst my friends. For those of you who don’t know, it is a series based on a blog of a high-end London call girl called Belle du Jour and it also the most watched programme on ITV 2.
As the programme is supposed to be based on a blog which is supposed to be an accurate depiction of the life of an escort, I have many issues with it.

1. Firstly, it makes prostitution out to be perhaps the most glamorous profession you could possibly get in to. Belle usually proffers her services to rich, distinguished looking, well-mannered, handsome and for the most part young, men.
Are the production team even aware of what a prostitute is? It is a service for men who have to pay for women to sleep with them. If they were rich and handsome they’d have no problem getting some even if they were married. There are plenty of women out there who’d have no scruples with having them for free.

2. There is very little danger in Belle’s life, even if the client is somewhat kinky it’s always in a cutesy way with riding crops, fluffy hand-cuffs etc.
A prostitute runs six times the chance of being murdered in her job than the average for every other profession. Plus men really want to “get their money’s worth” so they can end up bound and beaten.

3.Belle controls her own hours and the sex takes place in either her beautiful flat, top-end hotels or at lavish sex parties.
How rich are these fricking men, not only are they paying, presumably by the state of her home, a lot of money for the privilege of sleeping with her- but they also put her up in hotels? And these sex parties, I mean come on, how many can really exist? In this current economic climate how what man can afford to employ a team of prostitutes all in special outfits to entertain their chums… also do men really want to have sex in close proximity to their friends.. isn’t that a bit.. pervy?

4. She leads a double life the whole time, at first none of her non-prozzie friends know what she does.
How do you explain your nice clothes, house, stuff, sex preparation room etc to your friends without really telling them what you do? And don’t they realise that you’re in all day sleeping so you can “do the night shift”? This is crazy ITV I mean she has some cover story about being a secretary.. but that is totally incongruous with how she lives! Jeesh. Also the neighbours would be have to be totally oblivious to not be bloody suspicious about visitors and her comings and goings.

You’re all going to tell me to shut up with the ranting but this really grinds my gears. Nearly as much as poor spelling or ugg boots do.

Anyway, ciao babies.