Stuck in Wales with no telly

D.I.V.O.R.C.E

2009-01-09T02:15:00.000-08:00

So things didn't work out with my Landlord, we've separated, I'm moving out on monday and he's keeping the car, the house and his 17 year old stripper girlfriend.

I've just been having the worst luck at the moment, moving out of my house, scary exams, broken heart. Things need to start getting better this year, I deserve for them to, I'm a good person!
I'm just changing so much at the moment, I don't know what I want and I don't know who I can trust to console in, I don't see my old school friends any more and I'm having difficultly making friends at University, people drop out, move away, or I move away, it's unstable. I want something in my life I can rely on, or someone who isn't trying to destroy me, drain me of all my energy or use me as an 'experience'

Um the fanzine went amazingly well! I'm goign to write the third issue in March, so I'll have lots of time to work on it.

As for cheering myself up, the only thing that's keeping me mildly amused these days is getting semi naked and taking suggestive pictures of myself.

Happy 2009!!!

failed writer

2008-09-19T09:15:00.000-07:00

Fuck's sake!

I had such plans, such dreams, such visions of the amazing volumes of work I was gonna churn out this summer. Did you know that i'm related to William Thackaray? Yeah not by blood! By marriage! Thats why he writes Vanity fair in two weeks and it takes me a summer to fart a book review for the school paper, half a poem and a first draft of a short story. What is wrong with me? I was gonna write a fucking novel or something and instead I ended up spending four months of my life on dad's computer watching very heavily pixilated episodes of father ted on you tube.
On the plus side, there's the fanzine! Fuck now that's something I've put some effort into! I may never have children and in 50 years leave all my worldly possesions to a tattered old copy of 'scollops and bollocks' I hope people like it, I know I'm not supposed to care or be all spiritual or something and 'we are worms we could all die at any minute bla bla' but I hope someone gets something out of what i write like I got something out of Lucy Sweet's work. I still haven't got the guts to tell her she's my favorite hero so I just stole this from her blog instead.

ONE: Five Places you Have Lived

1) 13 Cyril Street: I lived in two houses during my childhood before settling into this one for almost 15 years but I hardly remember living in them let alone the address. We had some odd neibours like Sue and Columbus (I know! and I grew up thinking it was a normal name and the explorer was named after him) They had a son who I used to play with,he was alittl older than me so naturally I was very enamoured with him, he was the Aladin to my princess Jasmine, this makes little sense in the context that he would grow up to be a paedophile who the police removed from their house for having child porn on his computer.

2) 8 Darby road: This was the first proper house my dad lived in after my parents split up and it was all about the animals if I remember. I had a hamster with the personality of Cinque from Armistad 'give us us free!'. He had such will to better itself and be more than a hamster in a cage that he kept escaping from his cage and trying to fend for himself, once he lived behind the bathtub like a wild mouse for three weeks and my dad found it blue nosed and half suffocated in the draw we kept the bin bags in. Then he broke his leg trying to escape another time and had to have it chopped off. My dad missed a very important lecture if i remember rightly waiting at the vets with my hamster. The third time he escaped the lodger's cat got him poor bastard, he probably would have had a happy ending if we had lived in the country rather than a peg leg.

3)8 Watkin Terrace: My dad got dinky flat off one of his rich student friends and has lived there ever since. It became very multicultural over the past five years with it's polish food sections and Indian bakeries with jilebes in the window. Which is just what you want when you were a quiet teenage shut away who wanted nothing more than for brooklyn to sprout up from betwen the cracks of the pavement and save her from boredom as her home town collapsed into an unrecognisable melting pot of crime, prostitution and low rent so she could walk around pretending she lived in a Spike Lee film. Y'know, teenagers are selfish like that.

4) Orchard House: This is where my mum, stepdad and sister moved about three years ago to, I only lived there properly for a year and a half while I finished my a-levels before buggering off to the states a few weeks shy of nineteen to start smoking, lose my virginity and get offered my first writing job.It was this detatched 70s looking house that wouldn't look out of place as a bachelor house in the sunday times or Dirk Diggler's shag pad. It's on the poshest street in Northampton so it's full of racist golfers (it's unpc to talk about the darkies these days so now everything is those damn Poles fault!), Horses, Porshes, borderline alcoholics and eccentric self made millionaires who spend all their time playing with their remote controlled helecopters and 1/4 scale railways that go through their mansions.

5) 484 North street: My mum wouldn't let me live on my own in New York so when I finished my A-levels my Aunt invited me to go live with her in Connecticut, it's was my first proper grown up homewhere I had to pay rent and do my own food shopping. I worked several different jobs while I lived there, as a nanny, in a cafe and I only lasted one weekend at this horrible pancake house because it was so fast and confusing so I just stood there all day trying to look busy by wiping the maple syrup off the spout of the used syrup dispensers, this didn't fool the boss who gave me eighty dollars and wished me luck (silly woman, no way did I talk to enough customers to earn all those tips!)

TWO
What were you doing 10 years ago?

Trying to stare my boobs into growing hating all the girls at school with tits, wanting a boyfriend and hating all the girls on telly who had one, being a runner up in a girl talk magazine competition and winning a jewel hair mermaid barbie, Writing silly poems about my pet mice.

THREE
Name 5 things on your to-do list today

1. Sew the buttons back on my dress
2. Write some quizzes for my stepdad
3. Go to a seminar at 5pm
4. Go to punksoc, get someone to buy me a beer
5. Give my boyfriend a kiss

FOUR
What snacks do you like to eat?

Snuff, ginger snaps, cake, cake, any kind of cake, actually yeah just cake.

FIVE
If you were a billionaire...

What is it with all these 'if you were rich' questions? Is money all you selfish bastards can think of? I tell you what I'd do, I'd get some huge slaggy silicone tits like Lolo Ferrari and pay two short rugby players to walk in front of me all day carrying them above their heads as I kicked the homeless with my pearl encrusted jimmy choos.

Ladies

2008-04-04T05:51:00.000-07:00

I think every young girl at some point in her lifetime ponders over whether or not she could ever be a lesbian...

I'm not so sure if I could handle it though,
I mean, what if I failed to satisfy them!

They'd fuckin rip me to shreds!

Filthy, delicious capitalism

2008-04-03T13:09:00.000-07:00

Not that I'm turning into her or anything

But I really really really really want these things

to listen to

and these to wear

Why do you always needs things so intensely when you don't have any money.

There's this book called 'Down and out in Paris and London' George Orwell's first and he basically lives like a tramp in these two places to see what it's like. Theres this one bit where him and his friend have completely run out of money and are almost starving to death; all they want to do is write carefully planned imaginery menus with all their favorite foods on it, what they would order if they had any money. I know that feeling 'if I only had a hundred pounds I could buy this or that and then I would be satisfied. An it's wierd because you always know exactly what you would do when you dream of getting something which is slightly out of your reach finacially and you think you know that one thing will make you content.
That's how people get addicted to shopping, it's the adrenalin rush of 'this is the last thing I ever need to buy because it's going be your tool for accessing what you are currently barred from and when you do get it, it's going to totally change your life.' Particularly buying on credit because thats sort of a way of getting what you want without it really being yours at all.
I think that's why some rich people have horrible taste, because they have all this money and they forget about all the things they used to want so much or they are in the wrong context, they sort of sold their imagination.

Well, I do need some new summer stuff, that's my excuse anyway

xxx

Catchcup

2008-04-02T15:40:00.000-07:00

It seems for the first time in my whole life, I have a reasonably decent sized rack.
I was in Topshop with my friend and she remarked that my boobs looked really big and it was then that I realised none of my bras really fit anymore, it just hadn't really registered.
So I went to Marks and Sparks and got fitted and I have officially gained a cup size
34c awwooooo!
Kinda cool, I've always been pair shaped but now I have a waist and boobs.

...I hope I haven't joined the pudding club!

fatty

2008-03-30T11:04:00.000-07:00

I just ate a steak sandwich with cheese

Now I don't have to worry about riding my bike in a skirt.

2008-03-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

I've just spent four days writing a poem about this chic!
Serious hard graft!

My grandma thinks it's quite good but that I should do a few more drafts. Some words don't fit the rhytm very well. Time to get out the thesaurus I think.

I'm going to enter it into some poetry competitions this summer, although I hope I don't win. The prize money would be nice, but I think that winning something so young would sort of make me give up because I would know how little I need to do in order to succed and that's depressing.
I get motivated by not getting things, it drives me to work alittle harder and do alittle better. The juice of such strife is me at my best, I think.

Sorry about the bad spelling, I've just been dancing my ass off to some rio baile block party music, in the style of Josephine Baker and I can hardly see straight.
Oh yeah, I forgot, no one actually reads this.

I'm going to loose ten pounds for summer, if my ass gets any bigger I'm going to have to rent two rooms in Auckland next year.

Roll on June, Kathleen, I'm gonna come get you, squeeze you and possibly never let you go!

sincerely
loaded on endorphins

Phoebe xxx

Pease pudding

2008-03-26T12:37:00.000-07:00

Does anyone remember that nursery rhyme about pease pudding?

Pease pudding hot
pease pudding cold
pease pudding in the pot nine days old

some like it hot
some like it cold
some like it in the pot nice days old

mmm chopin would've have sweated blood from the stress if it'd been his job to write that one!

It was a very disturbing song to me as a child, because at first I thought it said 'please' pudding, but why would anyone ask to have pudding that had been cold and festering in a cooking pot for over a week. This led me to believe that it was a song about a horrible, tasteless 'alsorts' cassarole that working class victorian mothers would make by throwing anything they had into a big pot and simmering it into a grey, gruel-like mash with no nutritional content, serving the same purpose as polyfiller on a child's stomach. The song seemed to be some sort of children's anthem of defeatism, a way of making poverty and childhood somehow pleasant and normal.
"mmmm cold nine day old porrige again mum? Well thank God, some kids like cold pudding, some posh bastards like it heated up alittle, but not me, I like a pudding that has been caked to the bottom of a pan for atleast a week. What's for breakfast tomorrow? Another beating? AND a week in the broom cupboard! Oh mum!"

I had totally forgotten about this 'David Pelzer novel' of a song until a few days ago when I saw a product I never knew existed.

Apparently pease pudding is a sort of vegetable mash which comes in a can and is mostly found in the industrial towns in the middle of England. Intended to be served with meats such as beef or bacon, although the can suggests that you can also eat it in a quiche or dolloped on top of a scone.
I'm such a foreigner! I only tried cornedbeef hash a few months ago. Next I'll start talking in an American accent about how England is boring with wierd food and that Europe is so small that you can walk from France to Russia in a day.

Anyway I bought a can of pease pudding and I don't dare open it, it looks so old I feel like my mum has just sent me down the road with a farthing before school to get her three packs of cigarettes for the day and a can of pease pudding for dinner.

Errr I'll have mine hot with lots of salt and cheese please
xxx

Bad photo

2008-03-26T04:02:00.000-07:00

There are unflattering photos, then there are confidence crushingly bad photos that take a day to get over, and then....

There are those photos that make you look so unhumane that you wonder why nobody has ever pointed out the flaming similarity between you and john goodman.

what....the...fuck!

If I'm going to look like I eat 6000 calories a day I might as well enjoy it, give my clothes to charity, put on a bin bag dress and eat myself into imperturbation.
As a start I'm going to go stick my head in a bathtub of lyle's golden syrup and eat my way out.

A change of skin

2008-03-02T04:54:00.000-08:00

I was really bored the other day so I decided to dress up as my friend Haariet. She was staying at her boyfriend's house and always leaves her door open so I borrowed a blonde wig from Abbie, knicked some of harriets clothes that were lying around her room. As I painted my eyebrows ginger and practised various 'Harrietisms' in my mirror, I sent her a text explaining that a woman was in her room who was claimed to be her but I wasn't convinced.
She got such a fright when she opened her bedroom door.

Harriet

My crude imitation

It was wierd standing in her bedroom, trying on her clothes in her room, I creeped myself out a bit over how much I got into it, I think I even put alittle bit of her purfume on so I'd smell like her (eeeuughhhh!)
It reminded me of this bit in a novel I read called 'the scapegoat' by Daphne Du Maurier, about a french teacher who one day meets a man who looks exactly like him, they get drunk together and he wakes up in the morning in a strange hotel room to find the man has gone, taking the other mans things with him and leaving his own, essentially swapping his identity. The man has no choice but to wear the other man's clothes out of the hotel, and as he is dressing he describes how strange it is to suddely become somebody else simply buy wearing their clothes. He has an uncontrollable urge to take the other man's brush and style his hair in the same way and wear a bit of his cologne. I got a similar feeling in Harriets room, obviously I don't look like her but it does make you think, how much of a person's personality is dictated by their possesions, can you replace or replicate them simply by dressing and looking like them, or immitating their characteristics.

I never liked shakespeare at school but this makes me want to read Hamlet!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zEVZGuU3BU

vitamin d

2008-02-26T05:42:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhh!
Can't you just feel the sunshine through the window, soaking into your bones and filling you with light? It makes me want to run down the hill and roll around in the sand.
Deeee-liteful.
I washed my cardigan and now it's all long and baggy, but it smells good, better than the convergience of numerous owners dead skin cells and musty charity shops that was it's former scent.
Zaf and I made coffee today, from scratch, he roasted some beans in a frying pan and then I ground them up in the antique hand bean grinder I got in Morocco, the smell was exellent! Then we made espresso out of it which was delicious.

One day, when I have a nice apartment, I'll grind coffee for my guests. That apartment currently resides in my head, but I look at it all of the time, It's very pretty!
Oh New York, one day I'll come back for you!

Love is frickin' awesome!

Have a lovely day my devotchkas, don't waste it!

Heath Ledger

2008-01-25T14:17:00.000-08:00

It's strange how much stuff can happen in a week, particularly if that week is the space between your last exam and the start of your lectures, Heath Ledger dies, you have more boys in your life than fingers (two of which are stalking you) and you spend three consecutive nights on the piss. Everything is going too fast at the moment, I need to slow down and get my head back into books and regular sleeping and eating patterns or I'm gonna burn out and fuck up.
It's so exiting though, living so decadently, not giving a fuck and generally being bad. I've been such a nice wholesome girl my whole life and I'm so sick of it.

I think that my crisis can be best explained by a woman who Orson Wells once described as 'the most exiting woman in the world'

I'm so sick of nicey nice nice sickly, small talky chit chatty middle class nicey niceness and most certainly don't want anyone like that to be stalking me.
I want to do something with my life, and that wont happen if I fall into the trappings of just being a nice girl, nice girls are boring! The only reason they are nice in the first place is because they are told to be and remain nice because they receive complements for being nice, it's a bit like those prostitutes who can't escape because their pimps made them addicted to a drug of some sort.
I feel trapped by niceness, I'm a rude, dirty bitch and I don't care if that doesn't get me a husband or whatever because he wouldn't take me seriously if I was submissive anyway. Don't nice girls ever get curious, don't they ever get wonderlust? Don't they ever want more? I different life, something different. I don't want to be a beauty queen or a trophy wife, I want to be an eccentric, I want to have depth and anger and mood swings, I want to swear and argue and for that to be ok.
I also want to love people, I do, but I want to keep them safe and look after them, I want to say the right things and give good advice. Be a good sister, daughter, friend, student etc.

I'm not complaining, my life is pretty sweet at the moment. I just feel like I'm changing and I want different things. I don't want a nice, polite, shy boy. I want someone witty and sharp and pissed off like me.
Screw the steady relationships and sensible haircuts
Shave my head and give me a terrace house full of punks any day, that's where I can really be myself.

...omg shoes

I am having serious doubts about my intelligence, I've watched this Eleven times today, Elelven! and I still find it funny, Harriet is getting bored of my constant impressions. she looks like she wants betchslap my shetbeg face everytime I mention it. I also left a pin on the floor that she stepped on, whoops!
I'm going to watch battle royale on youtube because I haven't seen it in years and then curl up in bed with a cup of tea and my Nick Hornby paper back.
Goodnight my devotchkas
(That's Russian for "Betch!")

Hugging and argueing

2007-12-29T14:17:00.000-08:00

My sister and I had a few very harsh fights before I went to my dad's, we actually started saying 'I hate you' to each other, I've never faught with anyone so passionatley. I should be the nice grown up but in some way that would cause me to be more sterile detatched from her. I love her so for some reason that unleashes to animalistic sibling drive in me, I never had a violent sibling relationship growing up. I feel like all of my friends who didn't grow up only children have that agression to fall back on in extreme circumstances. The thing is, we had a huge, horrible arguement and stella said she hated me because I was horrible and then we just stood apart for a few seconds and I asked her if she wanted a cuddle, then we both said sorry. We've started doing that regularly after arguing, having a cuddle and saying sorry, it's definatley a much healthier thing to do I think.
I'm learning more about how uncharted, improvised and tempestuous love is from my sister than I have any other person in the whole world. It's an insane love, I'm not sure how sisters of very different ages should act around each other, or what sort of relationship they are supposed to have. I suppose for that reason we are just acting as though we are both children, I find that I am put in that category when we are together. The adults go in the kitchen to drink coffee whilst I get dragged off by my sister to play.
I feel terrible for her, she's so young and everyone is ganging up on her because she is loud and naughty. I know that she's bored, because she has nobody to play with exept when she's at school. I can't remember whether I was bored as a child, I suppose I don't really have a personality which requires constant attention and companionship, so I was better suited to being an only child for so long. My sister craves attention, constantly, she gets violently jelous of any that is diverted away from her for a second. I hate it when other people talk about her, or say that she's bad, it feels like I'm being hurt too.
It's wierd because I can say all manner of horrible things to my sister but I feel fiercely protective of her when others critique her.
I want her to stop having a hard time and for her life to get easier and more bearable, I want her to turn into a lovely, happy person. Sometimes I feel upset or worried that she won't turn out ok, like my life depends on her being happy and it wouldn' be worth it if she wasn't.
Anyway thats enough family stuff for now.
I've been buying some amazing clothes in the january sales, I just hope I have enough left in my bank account to pay for my student accomodation next year, whoops!
Sleep tight my devotchkas
xxx

Playing

2007-12-25T14:11:00.000-08:00

Whenever I come home my sister hoards me, harrases me constantly asking me to 'play with her' she has a very particular notion of play, it does not include watching a film, chasing each other around or me pinning her to the ground and smothering her with kisses. Although I've tried to convince her otherwise in an attempt to gain some time to myself. She demands actual role playing with barbies/ baby dolls or playmobil, everything else is just, in her eyes an attempt to prolongue not playing with her, something which I attempt to do constantly, even if it means sitting in the lavatory (the only room with a lock) for five hours reading my mum's private eye back copies.
The awful truth is that I dislike playing I find it a chore because it takes up so much energy, my sister doesn't allow any latency on my part during play. If I attempt to fallow, backing away from the Barbie box and settling down on the sofa for some tv watching she uses some form of coercion to prevent me from enjoying anything that separates me from her. She'll scream at me, hit me or simply looking up from her dolls, do a running body lunge at me and flinging her whole weight at my neck.
This combined with the almost fourteen year age gap that my sister and I have between us, giving us totally different biological clocks, mine tells me I have to sleep until two in the afternoon or suffer a headache or shit mood all day; hers tells her to get up at seven every morning and jump on my bed until I wake up and play with her.
It seems a strange thing to not want to play with a child, everyone wants to play with children! Exept people who don't like children or don't feel comfortable with them, but I'm not one of those people! I love children! I've had baby relatives plonked in my lap since my weight exeded theirs by a stone, I minded a small baby for three months, why do I find this so bloody difficult? I literally think about it constantly! It's fast becoming the bain of my life! Am I so ego centric that I can't put my own needs aside for an hour a day to play with my sister? The prospect just seems so daunting!
So I talked to my mum a few days ago and finally plucked up the courage to tell her that I disliked playing with my sister, even though it like a completely rediculous thing to say, it was true and I had to get it out. To my surprize my mum was quite sympathetic, infact she agreed with me, playing, properly playing with a child is hard, it is a chore because it is much more complex than we realise. She said that people often think that children are these simple, cute little things that can just be shoved out of the way, when they bore us, but they aren't you need to talk to children ad play with them all the time because they are constantly learning. She then said that I find playing so hard because my sister is using the act of play as a way of bonding with me and analysing me as a person, not just because she thinks it's fun. The same reason why she asks so many annoying questions, she needs to know things, shes constantly trying to soak up every little bit of information from any source. I can see why the Victorians had that 'children should be seen and not heard' ideology so firmly established. It was probably written by some poor parent who wanted their life back.
So the next day I played with my sister, we played with Barbies and my mum was right, it was very draining but so interesting to observe.
The game
She, a six year old, played with one of her miniature barbies that she called Lily, but before the game she chose the most attractive blonde barbie that she was going to, at an unspecified point in the game 'grow up' into. I, a 20 year old univeristy student played with my favorite woodland nymph barbie with long red hair and fairy tattoos down both arms that I called 'Puck.'
Lily's parents had died in a fire and Puck had found her, an orphan, wandering through the woods. (sub plot: Lily secretly has a sister that she didn't know has survived, who later turns up) Puck takes her home to live with her family, the adoption process was almost unmentioned, lily just sits at the breakfast table with Puck's brother's and sisters and just sort of blends into the sibling dark matter. For comedy value, various brothers and sisters run in to the room, arguing and sometimes naked, asking the mum where their clothes are because they can't go to school naked. Lily had similar aged children to play with and Puck gives her dresses as a present, she also likes to keep changing her hair length and style, to the slightly hammed up stupefaction of Phoebe, I mean Puck.
Lily is still clearly in mourning from the recent death of her parents so Puck attempts to comfort Lily by walking her to school and letting her look after the family dog. My character wasn't the most abstract of creations, she is an unspecified 'young adult' who goes to Univeristy. Although I got alittle creative with her image, the fairy tattos inspired me to turn her into a bit of a beatnik, she only wears Ken's 'prince charming' clothes, exept occasionally at parties (like on her birthday when her friends get her to drink two tumblers of wine, she gets drunk, throws up violently for a minute and then passes out all night in her puke. Lily is the one who drags her out of her puke pile in the morning, dispite Lily's efforts to 'have a lie-in.') In terms of character, Puck is an angry young female pariah who has a boyfriend at university whos always trying to get her to marry him, even though she isn't that into him. She also regularly gets kicked out of the house for fighting with her mum or calling her sisters 'wenches.' Although she is a bit of a bastard outcast, she holds a fierce sense of obligation to Lily and always has to make sure she is ok. Eventually the promising appeal that our game held at the beginning began to drain away, the plot died and we sort of lost interest. Although like the true publicist, my sister did attempt to 'jump the shark' and keep the viewers watching by suddenly turning her character into a woman and having two babies, thats when we had a tea break!
I felt a little guilty because usually the games aren't this riveting or personal because I havn't been doing it properly, I've been duking out and skulking off, distracted with everything else in my silly little adult world.
It wasn't really playing at all, it was sort of us in a way, playing out our personalities through these avatars of what we would prefer to be, what we wanted to be. In our ideal worlds my sister wants to be a Disney princess and I want to be tank girl, so that's exactly what we were, tank girl and a disney princess as sisters in our ideal imaginary world.
I'd forgotten how good it feels to get away and play pretend games, they don't damage your liver/ lungs or corrupt you in some way like grown up fun and games tend to do. I should just ignore it all and go play with my sister more often, even though children's games are far more complicated than adult ones, believe it or not!
Good night my little devotchkas
Always merry and bright
xxx

infatuation

2007-12-24T09:49:00.000-08:00

Oh Debbie Harry/ Bjork and Aretha Franklin, you know what it's like to be mad about the boy!
No boyfriend, just an imagination and cool female artists with voices I could never match.
*Long, heavy sigh*
Merry Christmas my little devotchkas!
xxx

technological determinism vs the santa myth

2007-12-23T13:09:00.000-08:00

'I hear babies crying, I watch them grow, they'll learn much more than I'll ever know'
-Louis Armstrong

One of the worst things about growing up is that you see the younger generations, that contain your cousins, siblings and sibling of close friends evolve and abandon the values you subconciously grew up with. Technology for example, my mum is thinking about getting my six year old sister an i-pod shuffle, I got my first radio/tape player combo at ten. My sister has never seen ren and stimpy, are you afraid of the dark or Sabrina the teenage witch, the fond memories of my childhood that were played on the only two children's cable channels. Now there are at least fifty that churn out half-assed computer animated capitalist propaganda with no distinctive characters, good God I sound like an old fart, or a middle aged Guardian columnist. I don't want to be accused of technological determinism or anything, every generation is just an epoch in the perpetual lineage of 'man' and his 'tool' running parallel with one another in development, but you can't help but find yourself supporting the liquidisation of some rather lovely traditions.
Which leads me to the bizzare transcript of my reaction to my sister's first logical questionings of Father Christmas' exitence
Sister: Father Christmas isn't a real person is he?
Me: (thinking: oh fuck!!! How the raz did she work that one out so quickly? and so calm? Why is she not having a nervous breakdown like the one I had when I asked my mum and screamed at her that she ruined Christmas. Oh God this child is too clever for me, I hope I will have buggered off back to uni by the time she starts asking about sex) Yes he is Stinky( Thinking:bad, bad weak adult, don't lie to her, why did you just lie to her? she has already worked it out, stop reaffirming the lie, she's much cleverer than you, just tell her the truth and get out of the way of her quest for knowledge, she has the right to know!) what makes you think that?
Sister: (Doing her adult impersenation, young face contorted with sceptecism) Well, I don't know how he can be all over the place all the time, he'd need to go back home sometimes, otherwise how would the elves know what to make?
Me: What do you mean, he only has to give presents one night a year, he has plenty of time to tell the elves!
Sister: No, when he sees me, that wasn't father Christmas, that was an actor!
Me:(Thinking: Ofcourse! The grotto! Thank fuck, she's only worked out that the father christmas in the grotto isn't real, that isn't a problem, she still believes that father Christmas is coming to our house in three days! Besides, grotto father christmas is shit and unconvincing, I worked out years before I found out about the real father Christmas didn't exist and I don't believe the first event provoked the second, to my knowledge.
Ok, childhood innocence still in possession of my sister, father Christmas conspiracy can be prolongued for at least another year. I suppose it should be my mother who tells her that he doesn't exist, she did it very tenderly with me. However, as her only sister, I think I can handle the responsibility of explaining the grotto conspiracy without any emotional scars.)
*Kneel to my sister's eye level, look at her seriously in the eyes*
That's right, the father Christmas in the grotto isn't the real father Christmas, those are people that Father Christmas asks to pretend to be him so they can find out what they want in their stockings. Those are actually father Christmas' brothers, he has lots of brothers all over the world who look like him and every year they work in the grottos, note down what the girls and boys want and then e-mail all their names to Father Christmas. (Brothers?? E-mail?? are you trying to turn your sister into a social reject? What if she walks into the play ground repeating what you said to her friends? Yesterday you told her that she couldn't hang the stockings up early because Father Christmas will think you are trying to cheat and not leave you anything, why??? remind me, was it because you couldn't be bothered to get off the sofa and help her find the stockings? You are the worst adult role model in the world!)
I can see the subliminal advertising begin to lure it's way into everything, even my speech!
E-mail, it makes perfect sense, all that information being sent so far in such a short space of time. Logically E-mail is just what Father Christmas would need to cope with that level of data, but fuck, it's not supposed to make sense! It's supposed to be magic!
I can see the imagination of Children at Christmas becoming charred into unreadable blackness like a letter to father Christmas going up the chimney, where, for all I know, it gets burned as soon as it's out of a child's sight. Now it's going to be replaced by something totally different and scary, like a toy mobile phone.
On the plus side, perhaps it will be technology that prevents the Father Christmas plaster from being ripped off too early, it certainly makes a few angles of the myth more plausable than they appeared to be in my day!
Good night my little devotchkas!
xxx

My first blog

2007-12-22T05:58:00.000-08:00

My sister and I have been biting each other, she's six and has been begging me to play with her every second of the day, so I tried alittle reverse psychology on her by pinning her down to the floor and not letting her go to the toilet because I loved her so much my heart couldn't stand the absence, she lasted about five minutes.
My cheeks are burning, their surface ringed in scores of pink six year old teeth marks, I'm home, yeeha!
Three days to go my devotchkas

XXX