All entries for Saturday 20 August 2005
August 20, 2005
And thus a year passed in which Holly E.* Cruise wrote much in her blog which was of minimal interest to anyone, including herself. It did not improve her spelling, nor did it reign in her habit of using a twatty pretentious word where a simple one would do, or indeed using a swearword when there was really no need for an adult to do that (tut).
Now I know what you're thinking subliminal messages** and we're thinking the same. What is this blog all about? Well the good news is I've decided to bring you right up to date with what this blog has done in the last year…
After fighting a mighty battle against the very suggestion of doing something constructive, Holly, a pasty faced goalkeeper of uncertain accent, got a blog, a newfangled device for recording and storing brainshite so the user's brain can be saved for other more important thoughts like "where did I leave the cat?", "what time is the cat?" and "why am I thinking about cats, I don't own one?".
The first post managed to be annoyingly self referential, contain an analogy of Stalinism, a whinge about the trains and a starred out swear word. Precedent set, it then expanded into a series of rants about slow things (trains and Paula Radcliffe at the Olympics) before revealing the government's biggest ever secret. That last bit might be a lie.
Moving into a house for the first time, starting university again, progressing on the path the grownup life… you'd have thought such things would make more impact. Instead I attempted to teach the world how to play bass guitar and spread the word "arsebiscuit" to the general population. Recent surveys have shown no increase in British bass playing abilities and the dictionary does not include the word "arsebiscuits" though my dictionary doesn't have "quim" or "multiculturalism" so I don't know whether that's a success or a failure on my part.
Attempts to use my blog for humanitarian purposes backfired and resulted in a large swathe of Lincolnshire being occupied by a slightly perplexed Norwegian army. How this chain of events came about is to be chronicled in and upcoming film starring Linsay Lohan, Shane McGowan from The Pogues and the irritating one who was in 'Spooks'. This film will be crap.
This month also saw the legendary Welcome To Westwood entry which I'm assured still pisses off Westwood students to this day. Guys, it's meant to be ironic#.
My writing sucked for the duration of this month. Don't bother reading it.
As well as my part time job as Santa's tallest and most easily distracted elf I somehow managed to use my blog to bring down the government of Britain. However as this had preceisely no impact because everyone was Christmas shopping at the time, I put the government back almost exactly as I found it with the only difference being a switched David Blunkett for Davros from Dr Who. A grand total of two people noticed but as those two people were Reeves And Mortimer everyone thought it was another of their surreal jokes and I got away with it.
I also wrote some shite about student cooking which overlooked the fact I cannot cook and the whole thing was faked using play dough.
I wrote some political stuff. As a result I was pelted with snow. Now I think about it the two things might not be related. I also wrote about migraines which has made me an unlikely zzz-list celeb in the world of people who suffer from unnecessary head agony. This resulted in further snow pelting. I laughed when the snow melted.
This month I was awarded an Oscar for a grand total of 15 minutes after which they realised I wasn't Penelope Cruz, and in fact they didn't even want to give her an Oscar anyway. So in revenge I took Nicole Kidman hostage but nobody noticed because she'd already made so many films that they just kept on releasing them till I let her go.
In blog terms this was the month I acquired a number of mysterious anonymous fans, most of whom claimed to be football girls from other unis. All claimed to have scored against me, which would be implausible if it wasn't for the case that most female footballers between Oxford and Crewe have scored against me.
Don't tell airport security that you've got "weapons" in reference to you boobs. Those who know me will know who I'm referring to and might even have seen my face as she said it. This month I didn't get deported. But it was close.
In addition we all learned the true meaning of Christmas which was a waste of time as it was March… although according to this book I read once they moved Christmas to the December winter solstice from March to convince to pagans that Christianity was a good religion, or at the very least better than the one with the druids which was all about old men in faintly odd robes conducting weird rituals in dead languages…
There was General Election thingy in May so I used April to inflict 'politics' on people. The people thanked me and I was well ahead in the opinion polls for the entirety of April until I found out that actually the people hadn't read the political stuff, they just liked the pretty cartoons and the continuing references to Paula Radcliffe, who by this point had remembered that she's the best runner in the world and won a marathon complete with wee break. As a runner with a weak bladder I applaud this fine example.
In reality I was impressed that people wanted to debate stuff on the political posts. It restored a tiny smidgeon of my bruised faith in humanity, in a wooly, left-of-centre, 'liberal is not a dirty word'## insulated studenty way. Then a comedy post about the papacy got more comments and I realised seriousness never wins because it's not funny enough.
Revision ate my brain.
In other news a series of posts about history, inspired by my revision became inexplicably popular, proving that all you need to teach history are bad drawings and rude words. And bumsex. Everyone likes stories about bumsex~.
Thinking it couldn't get any worse than revision eating my brain, I was surprised to find it could get worse and that exams ate not just my brain but my soul and, more importantly, my right hand as well. Thus crippled I plumbed new depths of irrelevant observations, obtuse references and polysyllabic pretentiousness of the kind which means I often get accused of being "posh" despite having the accent of an itinerant working class immigrant (which is kind of the case).
With the exam period over, and with me not having been deaded by the process, I made a decision to write cutting edge, incisivce and rivetting blog entries. Then the sun came out and I had icecream and I wrote about music instead. I like icecream. It's horribly bad for you but it's so delicious and sweet and comes in all sorts of flavours… wow, this really is the sort of cutting edge, incisive and rivetting stuff you were hoping for isn't it?
That'll teach you to have expectations about this blog.
And verily, the Hollyzone continues, just another blog, updated more frequently than the majority, but less elegantly than the glitterati. Perhaps one day there will be a correctly spelt entry. Perhaps soon will see the beginning of a pattern in the content. Maybe I'll get a goddam life and never write here again.
Funnily enough today is also my mum's birthday. She is 54 years older than the blog but you can't upload pictures onto her. Therefore blogs are more multimedia than parents… and it only took a whole bloody year for us to reach that conclusion. Don't you love long journeys that go nowhere?
160 entries in a year. 1300 comments posted. Three guaranteed laughs. Eleven players on a football team. Four strings on a bass... and the feeling that this was probably, on balance, a bloody good idea.
*It stands for E.
** What is this blog all about?
#In the actual sense of the word, not the Alanis Morrisette version, or the irritating student version.
##Or is it?
~Ask me about Richard II.