Some Reasons Why You Really Should Hate Me

Tuesday July 3rd, 2001

1) Because I am sitting on a beanbag, left leg tucked under me, right leg at an angle, hair tucked behind my ears, occasionally cocking my head to look at the television, writing this on my I-BOOK on a BIG FAT BROADBAND CONNECTION. Hah.

2) Because I am still relatively young. And I look younger than I am anyway. And I keep purple hand weights beside the telly, which I lift up and down sometimes, and that has made my biceps bigger even if you can't see them unless I grab the bottom bit of my arm and pull the rest of my arm flesh out of the way, which I frequently do before running up to my boyfriend and going 'LOOK! LOOK! MY BICEPS ARE MASSIVE! CHECK 'EM OUT! CHECK IT! NO NO GERROF STOP LAUGHING BASTARD OW'

3) Because I live in the East End of London, hooray, and there is a market outside my door on my very street every Sunday, where you can get videos really cheap and secondhand porn and tomotoes and white plastic belts and old shoes and nice coats and STUFF. Although you do have to talk to the scary man, so big and burly, with a large head like a red King Edward potato, and he always asks you what you are going to cook for lunch, and whatever you say, he mocks you. And he talks to you in a special mocking posh voice, unlike his usual Essex bellow, all fluttering voicebox and restraint, because he thinks you are a posh rich girlie even though you are not. Though you are compared to him. Posh, that is. Not rich. And the other bad thing is that he starts yelling 'EIGHTEEN BAGS OF CRISPS A PAAAAHHHHHNNNND' at six am every Sunday morning, which is OK for me, but not so good when people stay over on the sofabed in the front room, but that's not my concern, is it?

4) Because I luckily saved up some money which is quite good because I have not worked for TWO MONTHS now.

5) Because my boyfriend is goodlooking and has naturally tanned skin because he is an eighth Indian, and, let's face it, and not that I am being down on myself or nuffin, just honest, if I went out with a boy who was exactly as physically attractive as myself on the physical attractiveness-ometer, I would not be going out with someone who was tall, with an exceptionally defined chin, with naturally tanned skin and blue eyes and an elongated, easy kind of grace. Oh, and a massive cock. I would be going out with someone who was cute enough, but more cute and sweet than handsome. And he wouldn't be tall. He'd probably be quite stylish but being so short would mitigate against that, meaning he had to go out with someone like me. And maybe he'd have a belly starting although I'm not sure if I'm not just too fascist to be able to deal with a beerbelly even though, given the way I look, that is probably no better than I deserve.

6) Because my parents don't give me any hassle *any more*, though they did when I was young. And Mum did hassle me recently by phoning up to demand to know why none of her three daughters had called to wish their dad a happy father's day, which made me retort that Dad believes that Father's Day is a load of commercialised crap, and every time I have wished him a happy Father's day he told me not to bother.

7) Because, like the girl in the Charlie Brown comics, I have naturally curly hair.

8) Because I've been in a relationship for, like, EVER. Although if you take me out and get me drunk I will, I promise, tell you tales to make your hair turn white and make you relish your single status.

9) Because when I do work I sometimes get expenses and can do drugs/ drink / buy expensive trashy magazines as 'research'. Or I could back in the glorious days of the dot.com boom. Gizza job, someone. Anyway, I am trying to cheer myself up here, so we'll have no more of this kind of talk, missy.

10) Because it's nothing I didn't get used to when I was at school.

11) Er... that's it.



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