The hair and now.

Well that was weird.

Today for the first time since ever, I had a positive experience at the hairdressers.

Me and hairdressers have never really gotten on. It probably doesn't help that I despise my head-mop, but they always make this ten times worse by not listening to my instructions and making me look a brunette dulux dog with alopecia.

Take last time, for example. I went in and asked to simply have my hair thinned a bit, and came out sporting a Charlotte Church style bob.

To stop myself from looking like the voice of an angel, I then went to a different salon and asked the lady to keep the length pretty much the same, but to break up the ends and make it more manly. However, she heard "Yeah, cut a good 4 inches off and make me look like Ellen McArthur", which is just what she did. I went home and cried. And then I wore a cap for a month.

But today, on the spur of the moment, I went in and asked for it to be thinned, with the length keeping the same. AND THE NICE LADY (SENT FROM HEAVEN) DID JUST THAT! And she didn't even bore me with the usual questions of holidays or tell me about her eight kids (naturally named after soap opera characters). I could have kissed her. Well I could have tipped her, which I would have done if I'd worked out where to put it.

She did such a good job that nobody even realised I'd had a haircut :(


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P.S. While waiting for my hairgrope, another hairdresser at the salon caught my eye. She obviously spent lots of time on her appearance, since she was caked in make-up and had dyed blonde hair... yet she had a moustache. And I mean a proper one, visible from a good 10 metres away (and possibly outer-space). If you were a preened lady with a tash, you'd get rid of it. Surely?

I love cats and I love sinks.

I love Cats in Sinks.


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Willing to donate.

Fucking hell! Despite having only had about 4 hours sleep in the last 40 hours or so (as opposed to my usual 20), I still can't get to sleep no matter how hard I try. Even though I feel tired.

But anyway! I've decided to do something else for a while (which is what the "sleep experts" I'm always seeing on itv day recommend if you can't get to sleep at first) and have just given itunes a good seeing to.

I bought Prototype by Bodies Without Organs:

... and c'blimey, it's 100% bloody brilliant.

They're unsuprisingly from Sweden, the best country for music these days due to it seemingly still producing lots of upbeat, shiny modern music by nicely styled stars. Unlike this country.

The members (l-r):

• Alexander Bard - funny looking popgod, previously behind Alcazar and Army of Lovers.
• Martin somethingorother - ridiculously pretty lead vocalist who would most definitely get it.
• Milfy woman - there really aren't enough 40-something glamorous lady keyboard players in the music industry, are there?.

I'm already loving this whole album, despite hearing half of the songs only once. It's just that catchy. And the good news is that BWO's second album is out in a month or so. "Woot".

Thank christ for the internet. Without it I'd probably be sitting here listening to The fucking Stereophonics or something as equally beige.

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Hissy phitt.

This Summer sees the release of possibly the most brilliantly-shit film ever made. It's about an assasin who decides to bump someone off by releasing a cratefull of deadly snakes on board their plane, and has for some reason been called Snakes on a Plane.

Quite why this particular assasin chooses such an elaborate and less-effective method of despatch for his target is a bit of a mystery, although"Man Gets Shot" isn't such an ace title.

The trailer is currently living here and is AMAZING.


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Ball play.

So tonight at 8 we find out the lineup for the Aber Uni May Ball, which for some reason I'm going to this year.

In 2004 the mighty Girls Aloud played, followed by Jools fuckin Holland last year. So it could go either way, although I'm hoping that there's a fuckingreat-wellshit-fuckingreat pattern emerging and this year I'll get to try and molest one of these:

• Charlotte Church (she's been rumoured).
• The Aloud again!
• Dr Karl Kennedy's band.
• Rachel Stevens.
• Bananarama.

And it had most certainly not be any of these:

• Son of Dork
• Journey South / Andy off X-Factor
• Fightstar

I love lists!


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...UPDATE...

So it's Liberty X and The Bodyrockers.

HOW WAS THIS A GOOD IDEA?!

The dullest pop group of the last 5 years and a one hit wonder who's one hit was the musical equivalent of a bucket of week old sick does not an entertaining lineup make. You know, I WOULD HAVE SETTLED FOR LISA SCOTT-LEE.

At least Chesney Hawkes is ganna be there too. Oh, wait :(


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The March 2006 Love/Hate Census

Currently loving:

• Muffins (bannoffee, choc orange, and double choc).
• Playgrounds.
• Desperate Housewives (back on form, even without the mystery).
• The kickass Burger King Spongebob "Lost In Time" toys.
  
• WKD Blue.
• Madbad Harold's secret tormenting of Paul on "Neighbours".
• Birmingham.
• The Mighty Boosh.
• Walking.
• Jake Gyllenhaal.
  
• Finding amazing songs that I'd never think to download myself on MyTunes.
• The fact that I get 3 weeks at home in 10 days time.
  
• Tanya Turner, back on Footballers' Wives.
• People, some of the time.
• Some people, all of the time.
  

Currently hating:

• Essay guilt.
• My constantly messy uni room. The floor is covered in hairs for fuck's sake.
• The imminent end of the wintery weather.
• Lecture guilt.
• Lavender scented Febreze.
• This sudden and uncharacteristic outbreak of big fuckoff spots.
  
• People, far too much of the time.
• Myself (body and mind), far too much of the time.
  
• Jeremy Kyle.
• The fact that my ipod is starting to die.
• Wanky, "credible" bands who take themselves too seriously and spunk out mundane dirge.
• My european film course.
  
• Hidden garlic in food.

And that's that.


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(taken from the brilliant HolyMoly! weeky mailout)


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In the last few months the pregnant fourteen year old inside of me has awoken.

I'm not getting weird food cravings or urges to drink White Lightning in the park before tossing off the burberry clad, but I am moodswinging.

It's fucking annoying to say the least. I can go from "meh" to hyper and sociable to angry and craving sollitude back to "meh" again, all in the space of a few minutes. And I've no idea why.

Take tonight for example. I was out with a group of people having a moderately enjoyable time, before suddenly beginning to hate it all and doing a disappearing act back to halls. I felt incredibly miserable for a while, but am now pretty much ok again.

Other times, I've agreed to go out but at the last minute have ended up locking my door and pretending to be asleep/somewhere else to avoid it. All because I get in an (often) irrational mood with myself or other people and just want to be alone.

This all makes less sense when I try and put it into words :(

Childhood.

So we all have stories and remnants of our younger selves that we'd rather forget about, and get a bit embarassed when our mums start clanging on about them for the millionth time.

For me it's the story about wetting myself in some old lady's shop. Or the time I wet myself in the middle of a doorstep whilst out carol singing (yes, I was quite piss-happy 15 years back). There's also naked picture of me in a paddling pool somewhere that I'd quite like to burn.

My "dear" sister doesn't like it mentioned about the mass tizzy she threw for weeks after I was born. On the day itself (August 7th - get me a card), she banged her head against a radiator and screamed like Linda Blair until being dragged away and sedated. Then at my christening she refused to appear in any of the photos and ran away. This upset KILLED MY GRANDMA. Well, she died a few months later and the link has never been disproven.

And then there's my Uncle who was caught "bashing one out" by his mother. What made this even worse was that in the following panic he jammed his thingy in the zipper, and it took my Granny and her visitting friend (both nurses) to free him.

However, I think all of this youth shame pales into insignificance when you take a look at this poor kid.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.


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This...

... makes me very excited.


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Caught in a web.

Bollocks. I can't sleep yet again.

Probably because I'm coming out of drunkville, along with the fact that I'm generally in a strange mood, due to life being a bit of a ten car pile-up at the moment.

Tonight was rather ace though. It was (may contain some) Comedy (if you're fucking lucky) Night at t'union, followed by a bit of Karaoke. Four of us performed a rendition of Madonna's Like A Prayer that would make the great lady cry tears of blood. I bloody love karaoke. It certainly makes up for Pearl Harbour. God bless Japan!

But what is there to do at 4 in the morning when curled u in bed with a laptop* for company??

All this cyber-shit! That's what!

• An amazing/ohgodmakeitstop song about Llamas.
• A bit of kickass airport mischief.
• Some cunts with too much time on their hands.
  
• A Neighbours rap.
• And there's always YouTube.
  

Tomorrow I get to write 2000 words on something comlicated and obscure that I know absolutely nothing about. I couldn't be more fucked.


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*I don't need your pity.

Academic.

So yeah, last Sunday was The 78th Academy Awards from The Kodak Theatre in Hollywood (I've been there! Eek!). I went home especially to watch 'em, coz I'm really sad and get overly excited about filmy things.

The results could have made me happier, but after a couple of years of suprise Oscar bliss (Lord Of The Rings getting everything in 2004, Clint Eastwood kicking Scorsese's ass in 2005) I can't really complain.

Except I will, because Brokeback Mountain is a far more accomplished piece of cinema than the justquitegood Crash. And Reese Witherspoon is fucking whiney, and should only be given an award if it can be guaranteed that she won't be able to attend the ceremony to pick it up in person. I also don't trust George Clooney. Not one bit.

The ceremony was sort of entertaining. It was quite nice to see Dolly Parton wheeled out, although I can't understand understand why she wasn't even nominated for Best Visual Effects. And the host, John "Who?" Stewart was moderately amusing, and far superior to that goofy twat from last year. It's still a shame it wasn't Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg or even Robin Williams though.

Fashionwise, I thought Nicole Kidman, Keira Knightley and Felicity Huffman looked nice. Whilst Charlize Theron looked fuckin' awful, like some sort of Quality Street Doctor Who Monster. I never used to care about the clothes, which makes me worry that I'm getting gayer.


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Diary Products.

A thread on the fabtastic Life Itself about rediscovering old diaries years down the line has inspired me to start writing one for myself. Well it did for about 19 seconds anyway.

Then I remembered how shit I am at expressing my feelings, along with how mortified I'd be if someone read all my private thoughts. They'd be penetrating my mind fortress, the bastards.

I still feel incredibly bad about doing that to my sister when we were both in Senior School. I'd been sneaking into her room for a few months to have a good read/laugh at her (badly hidden) diary. Then one afternoon the bitch was winding me up on the school bus home and I ended up blurting out all of her deepest secrets in front of everyone. Including how she fancied one of the guys on board. She didn't thank me much for that, in fact she cried and scratched a lot.

But anyway, I have decided to try and keep this blog more update heavy. Because what with this being THE AGE OF TECHNOLOGY ... or summit, I can stumble across this page in however many years time instead. And as it's more public than a diary, it shouldn't be full of the usual self indulgent "Oh i hate my life and myself" wallowy boo hoo hoo shit.

So hello to Gareth of the future, if he's reading.


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P.S. I've even had the builders in to renovate the place. By knocking through some of the walls I feel this page now has a much breezier, lighter feel. Of course it could all cave in at anytime as a result. But never mind, as there are polka dots. And the "well upholstered" style woman on This Morning has been harping on about how they're a must have this season.

Dear Local News Programmes,

Can we give the weekly stories about a baby who's been a bit poorly in hospital but has now been allowed to return home a rest please?

"Child doesn't die" is hardly fuckin' news now, is it?


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