November 01, 2006

Fear me

For I am now a fully-qualified P-plate bearing drivar!

Mwahahahahahaha!

Time to pimp my ride. Tire flares, glow wire and ground lighting*

yay! :D

M xxx

* this comes with the added bonus that I’ll never have to give anyone lifts as no-one will want to be seen dead in my girl-racer-joy-waggon. ;)


October 31, 2006

That Magical Time Of The Year

Hallowieners

I fear to watch TV in the front roon because they’ll see me through the window damnit >:(

M xxx


October 26, 2006

Seriously…

...were I not a stupid humanoid, I could be such a hawt car.

Mia Car... geddit?

Ka-chow! ;)

M xxx


October 24, 2006

Unpretty

I saw an interesting TV show the other day. It was called “Make Me A Supermodel” or “Britain’s Next Supermodel” or “Ain’t I Got A Pretty Face” or something along those lines and I was shocked. Shocked to the core. It wasn’t because of the so called “challenges”; lads – put on some blue eyeshadow; ladies – lie on a pile of frozen fish. But because they all looked so strange. There were two, that everytime they smiled I got this strange urge to go and play the piano, no idea why…
Surely the original idea of a supermodel is someone so ethereal and stunning that you want to just stand there… looking… and… just… wow… oh yeah, remember to breathe too. Do they all really qualify? And these are the ones that have made it past the elimination rounds. Strange.

In unrelated news I taught a giant gingerbread man and peter pan the beauty of the suffix “-to-the-face”. And a lumberjack (not gay) the joyousness of the word “Wench”. Ah good times, good times. :)

M xxx

Edit: In making this post I briefly had to save it and in the interest of haste, mashed out a temporary entry title, not knowing it would be permanent. It amuses me to notice that even after subsequently changing the title, my only ever hot topic post will go down in history as having a title that resembles the word “gayer”. Great. Cruel fate giveth, and cruel fate taketh away…


October 19, 2006

The Crossroads Of (Potential) Doom

Follow-up to Woo–frikity–booya–hoo! from Something Random

Today was amazing. I spent the whole day in london, spoke wih a designer, saw a Duchess and bumped into Mary Quant whilst perusing Dolce & Gabanna in Joseph.

I also got an interview for a biopharmaceutical company that will be tomorrow at 11am.

Gah. I can’t stick to both tracks at once, which means that my life choices consist of:

1. Living in abject poverty doing a job that any design student would gladly give both legs, arms, eyes and soul for, whilst simultaneously mingling with the high aristocracy and occasionally royalty.
or
2. Living on a guaranteed salary with a full set of big-company perks doing a job that although I am qualified for may kill me through boredom and/or regrets.

In my favour, I am young and can afford to make mistakes at this stage in my life, but unfortunately my degree subject is such that it has a limited shelf life and in a few years all I’ve learnt will be irrelevant – so if i don’t get in now I may not have the chance again. On the other hand, opportunities in fashion like this one are rarer than rocking-horse poop and I would probably qualify for severe mental retardation if I let it go by. The real question is, what do I value more, security or passion, especially when it’s all or nothing.

I’m tending towards the design at the moment, there is a little voice urging me to tell them to stick their 20k/annum graduate salary where the sun doesn’t shine. But then the other little voice wants a house and a car and a comfortable life.

And so I sit at the crossroads in something of a dilemma

Bugger.


October 17, 2006

Missing, Presumed Donut.

Fortunately I am ok, even if HSBC thinks otherwise and is starting to address its correspondance to a Miss M.I.A. Brackenridge. Is there something they know that I don’t?

With regards to fashion life is going well. Although the imminent thursday meeting has made me hypertensive, bloodshot, irritable, injury-prone, skittish, ill and braindead, the clothes seem to be coming along nicely so it’s not all bad news. I’ve still to get a good set of portfolio photos ready tho :s and although Rome wasn’t built in a day it’s still only tuesday. I’ll probably upload them later

In other news I am doing my part for the blondes vs. brunettes debate, having scouted the enemy camp, as it were, for a week so far. My conclusions: I am equally lazy either way but have eaten waaaaay more donuts as a brunette, and only because my dad happened to bring them back from california last week. So that’s not much of a finding. I also determined that I need to get out more after I managed to watch two episodes of “Beauty and the Geek” in one week – the amount of brain-rotting daytime garbage that I would usually watch in a year. (Diagnosis Murder clearly doesn’t count) And even more so after I found myself sympathising with the geeks. (They’re not really so bad…)

And then on saturday I need to go to a fairytale theme party but suitable ideas don’t seem to be forthcoming. Especially with such little time to prepare and I don’t want to be a princess – everyone goes as a princess. That or a fairy. But I’m out of ideas that do not revolve around thursday. Maybe puss-in-boots would be ok, especially if I can keep up the spanish accent. ¡Ja ja ja!

In the meanwhile I will be listening to Radio 1 and raising my digits for Detroit, I hear it’s a most charming locale.

M xxx


October 09, 2006

Woo–frikity–booya–hoo!

Yes yes yes!

After years of trying, I’ve finally managed it and will be momentarily poking my head into the hardcore haute-couture scene! Woo and Yay!

OK, so I did have to ask satan several hundred times but after sweetening the deal with a sack of funsize twix he finally conceeded to a timeshare on my soul (his once a month for a couple of days – it’s unlikely anyone will notice the difference – and I have to put up with me the rest of the time). And in return I get to have tea with a top London designer and show him my stuff.

AAaaaaaarrrggghhh!!!

I am so overwhelmed. Everytime I think about it too much I momentarily stop breathing while the reality sinks in. I am living in a permanently hyperactive state where I live solely to sew and eat danish pastries.

The 19th is the day. I have 10 days left to complete my preparations and I’m feeling that everything is only half done and not really up to scratch yet. Ohmigosh-ohmigosh Breeeeaathe!

I don’t know what else to say. My mind is blank. Um but yeah I’m sure biochemistry would be equally thrilling… Hehe…

M xxx


October 02, 2006

Spidar

Ewwww! What is with all the spiders! I killed one so big it was absolutely awful and I couldn’t even bear to pick it up and throw it in the bin because it looked like the crunchy kind that you’d be able to feel squelch through a tissue and it was all slimy and disgusting and and and-
*pauses to catch breath and renegade punctuation*
Phew. But that’s not the worst of it. I just left it there on the floor. And forgot. And then, yes, yes I did… I stepped on it.

I have never been so utterly, utterly grossed out in all my life. I screamed. I levitated about a foot vertically into the air and then was thrown backwards across my room by pure fear alone. It was only with two toes but I feel like I should cut them off, incinerate them as biohazzards and cauterize the wound. I am so distressed it is untrue. and to add insult to injury I am dressed like a tramp and covered in paint. AND I can’t get to the kettle. NNOOOOOOooooo… :(

M xxx


September 11, 2006

Fresher Checklist.

Although I am myself an alumnus, and as such considered by the new 2006 intake as senile and antiquated, my brother will soon be entering their ranks (albeit in Lincoln) and is a little bemused as to what to take with him. So I was just wondering what pearls of wisdom the blogging community could provide, especially as my advice to him all comes from a female perspective! I think I will form a list from the comments as they come, in the hope that others who are not my sibling will also find it useful. :)

M xxx

Edit:
Here it is…

THE COMPLETE FRESHER’S CHECKLIST
  1. pants/knickers
  2. resolve
  3. a big spoon
  4. and some yum.

Well, at least you won’t need too big a suitcase (although this would depend on the enormity of ones spoon).


Il riturno di Mia

This afternoon, clearing the garden, as my thumb squidged into a particularly mouldy apple, I pondered life, society and the world; for there is nothing like being knuckle-deep in putrefied, maggoty apple flesh for focusing ones thoughts elsewhere. I thought about how bad apples, like rotten people seem to remain hidden until it’s too late, and how rare the good-looking apples seem to be and how most of them seem to be rotting from the inside out anyway. Equally true though, almost all apples have some useful matter to them once the nasty bits have been stripped away. Or maybe it’s just that the shiny fresh ones are collected and the undesirables are left to rot. So that’s apples. There is a chance I may have been seeing everything in a very pessimistic manner, but when push comes to shove it’s all pies anyway.

I also reflected on the best bits of my holidays. Maybe it was cleaning 48 square metres of inch thick muddy debris from the bottom of a pool while dressed like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Or maybe getting repeatedly electrocuted by my sewing machine, or sewing into my finger or the sunburn. Or that ear infection, or the buildingworks, or putting up with my family. Or maybe, just maybe it was That F*cking Cat. It was like a meowing metronome – all day, all night and unbelievably loud! But apart from that it was lovely break. Although 7 weeks would be considered a bit excessive by most!

And now upon my return we are bundling my brother off to uni, an event I find myself wholly unprepared for despite all my uni experiences. It means I am now old. I am the old one, and my brother is the fresher. All that is left to me is the mystery of employment, mortgages and savings accounts. And while I muse over just what exactly a “tax return” is, people are discussing behind my back about how maybe I should get my eggs frozen, join a dating agency, and start a pension. Since when was it “21 – next step death”?! And since when is a partner mandatory? People look at me like a leper. “Your mother was married at 22… No pressure.” Agh, it drives me nuts, especially as the only thing you can do in response is shrug and smile and say “oh well” and pretend that a man is at the top of your to-do list and yes of course they’re invited to the wedding. On the upside it means that they take it upon themselves to find suitable partners for you, saving a lot of legwork.

The question is, how long have you got before the inevitable occurs and you are left to rot?


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