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Posts Tagged ‘inertia.’

Because Life’s Too Short To Not Have Mary-Kate In It

Posted by idetest on January 18, 2012

Hola, totes soz for the radio static.

Totes not sorry, come find me here so I can apologise;

Come find me! We’ll braid each other’s hair and talk about boys. And strange and unsightly rashes that occur after having braided one’s hair, but before doing anything that needs talking about with boys.


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Christmas. It’s so Gay. And not in the good way.

Posted by idetest on December 27, 2010

Hola Chicos,

I Hope we all had a good one.

In fact I hope it was so good that you’ll all want to keep the memory sacred by never having another opportunity to have it ruined by a mediocre Christmas next year. And with that in mind I say we ban Christmas.

Now I know what you’re thinking “Oh, he’s a rampantly anti-Christian liberal, leftie bastard who won’t let us celebrate our mildly paedophiliac (Word?) holiday about some bitch what got knocked up and was too embarrassed to tell everyone the truth that the father was Bucktooth Barry and not the School Football Captain, Joseph (Little did everyone know though that Joseph had a baby dick and a water sports fetish. So, all in all of course poor wee Mary had to go find love in the arms of another).”

Which I am.

But also I am a Socialist Muslim Terrorist Commie who believes that Capitalism and Organised Religion form two corners of the trinity of evil (Lesbians being the third corner) and that when they are brought together humanity’s darkest days are upon us.

Want Proof?

Dec. 26, 2004. A magnitude 9.0 quake struck off the coast of Sumatra, triggering tsunamis that swept through the coastal regions of a dozen countries bordering the Indian Ocean. The death toll has been estimated at between 225,000 and 275,000.

Dec. 26, 2003. An earthquake devastated the ancient city of Bam, in central Iran, leaving between 31,000 and 43,000 people dead.

And that’s just what I found on some weird Canadian news website after approximately three seconds of googling. The fact that both those things happened in mostly Muslim and other non-Christian countries further proves a point…or possibly ruins my point. I’m not sure. There are arguments for both

Non Christians deserve to die BECUZ DEY IS MUZALIM INFIDELZ.

Non Christians have died as God’s wrath against us for our butchering of Christmas.

Whatever. I’m just glad they didn’t happen here.

In short, I say we ban Christmas. Mostly cuz I’m fucking sick of it.

Think about it.

  • Everything shuts down for weeks.
  • You have to spend it with your family. Ew.
  • It’s destroying the world’s natural resources by making us buying lots of Made In Taiwan plastic junk that’ll be used for approx. five seconds before we tire of it and throw it away.
  • Bad, bad, BAD, BAD Christmas Television.
  • The poor Queenie having to do her annual message. She’s not a natural on camera, can she please be let off this obviously stressful duty and allowed to go and glug down a few bottles of sherry like every other OAP on Christmas Day?
  • I may have mentioned having to spend it with one’s family already but there are certain things in life that one must always make sure that other people are aware of. Like the horrors of enforced family togetherness time.

So, who’s with me? Let’s KILL JESUS!

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“We should tax the stupid people!”

Posted by idetest on September 28, 2010

So after the leadership contest which dragged on for four mofo’ing months Labour has a new leader.

It’s not the lying black lady, nor the chubby northerner…nor the other one what I can’t remember: no it’s one of the Russian Jew émigré brothers: the younger one who looks like Eeyore.


Donkey Kong

Oh and now Labour are leading the over the Tories in the polls. Oh, I hate you swing voters. I FUCKING HATE YOU ALL!

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The week, that like just totally, was: 3/8/10

Posted by idetest on September 3, 2010

Hola chicos

Well in honour of 90210 week I too shall endeavour to relive the past while trying to ignore the horrible outfits of my past incarnations. i.e. I’m going to whine about my life.

So it all started on Sunday, which for purposes of this post is when week’s begin now; yeah. Get used to it.

I arose at the crack of dawn to go and view a flat to combat my impending homelessness. The address tipped me off; it involved the use of the words ‘house’ and ‘gardens’ – council estate!

Although I was raped and murdered no less than five times on my way there, and even though the the flat was…meh, I was taken in: mostly by Antonio, 22, short brown hair, long eyelashes, SPANISH!, didn’t speak very good English. He is now my lover whether he agrees to it or not.

Second flat was an ‘antipodean’ flat. I wont expand lest to say I would have been the youngest person there by a decade, howevs. on my walk there I noticed the area jam-packed with hot guys wandering around with less than normal amounts of clothing on. So I was disappointed to arrive at the flat to discover bucktooth bill and his regressive chinned friends. Sigh. One day my night in chiselled jaw lined armour will come.

Anyway, the week progressed and I spent most of it working on my Ulysses – it’s too long but I couldn’t decide whether to cut out the chapter that was an homage to the masturbation segment or the chapter dedicated to the bowel movement part. It’s a hard life but someone’s got to do it.

On Wednesday I went to visit another flat , where lo and behold rich, posh people who were well dressed and had fancy jobs lived. OMG! Let me live here I begged the lord: the room was larger than my current one, the rent cheaper, the area nicer, the flatmate’s better educated and the whole environment more bourgeois. And God I love bourgeois things. Except when I’m feeling communist. Also; the flat had across the road a corner shop called ‘CCCP: specialist in Eastern European groceries’ Yah. All sorts of “que?” there and even a few “por que?” as well. My favourite touch was the hammer and sickle’s they had painted in the corner of their sign.

Howevs. They did not want me.

So I left for work on Thursday despondent and fearing the onset of what feels like me to be a nervous breakdown. I tried googling the symptoms of one but apparently it don’t work like that.

My job took me to East london where I worked at an event where Microsoft had hired out a room the size of a stadium to have a carnival themed launch party thingy… yeah, make of that what you will. And yes, my life is that pathetic, why do you ask?

Went and saw another flat today. Two streets below the one I was rejected from. Howevs, it turns into a council estate one street in between so I was left thinking no, no, no when a gap toothed Saffa midget showed me around (no, he was actually a nice guy. But seriously no)

So this is where you find me oh loved ones. Here, on a Friday night despondent, crying, having a fat day, unable to even console myself with German soap operas. At this moment I’d happily take a cupboard under the stairs in a crack den for £1000 a week if they’d have me.

Hopefully next week will be better. Otherwise I fear I may have to do something drastic (Like, y’know buying two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s a day instead one.)

For now, adieu.

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You get what you give

Posted by idetest on August 16, 2010

One of the searches my blog got hit up on was a ‘recession theme party’. Hah.

Unfortunately that person probably went away empty-handed on tips for some decadence. To apologise I’ll try to rectify that.

For a recession themed party you shall need the following:

  • Despair
  • University degrees to burn and dance around
  • At least one ethnic minority to dress as a Mexican Migrant who will halfway through the party shake off their cloak of despair (did I not mention the despair comes in cloak form?) and laughingly declare themselves King of the Gringos.
  • Burlap Sacks
  • Vodka. For added emphasis make people line up for it and hand them a potato or stale bread when they reach the front of the line.
  • A riot.
  • A portrait of Margaret Thatcher.
  • A Billy Elliot rendition.
  • A soundtrack consisting of Pulp, The Clash, Morrissey and poss. Bon Jovi (I’m not sure why but when I think ‘recession’ my mind always turns to New Jersey…)
  • Snooki (Italian’s know hardship). Also: because Snooki makes everything better.
  • A Chinese person to go around and taking everyone’s money off them before bumping fists with the Mexican and run off cackling.
  • Someone for the Mexican to use as a footstool
  • A scared fat person who could be used for food if things get desperate.
  • A few relics of the good old days; A JLo record, some cheap party favours from Walmart, a copy of Time or some such magazine with an article on house prices.
  • An SUV parked in the driveway they can’t afford to run anymore.
  • A foreclosure sign out the front of your house.
  • At least one token intellectual right-wing person who will find a way to blame the Jews/immigrants/the poor/gays/single mothers.
  • At least one person wearing a sandwich board sign saying “Will blow for food/work”
  • A gun to kill yourself at the end as the joke wears off and a Nietzsche like sense of existential hopelessness at the declining standards of humankind envelopes you.

Enjoy kiddos!

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There ain’t no party like a recession party!

Posted by idetest on August 12, 2010

Hola, but no! This is not a time for rejoicing (hot like Mexico, though it is my pretties). For today is the most damaging and depressing of all the Thursdays in all the Augusts that ever were  or are to have been! Evah.

Also – August already? My goodness it feels like just yesterday I was throwing an empty Tesco-brand champagne bottle at the TV screen and yelling at my man-servant to turn off the  “chavvy people what be singing auld lang syne on a loop!”

But, as aforementioned ‘no’ pointed out, I cannot celebrate this. Today is a sad day. Today I have officially become a victim of the recession/credit crunch/global credit crisis/Socialist propaganda A SECOND TIME!

Yes my chicos I have already been a victim of Stock market smackdown ’08-10 once. You see I am a middle class university graduate. And like throughout history it is we who always fair the worse in tough economic times. It is we who must cancel our gap years to work in daddy’s law firm, it is we who must move back into our parent’s tastefully redecorated colonial style 4 bedroom houses to save money (and not even an en-suite – BEASTLY), it is we…you get the point.

Anyway, after suffering the slings and arrows of being an unemployed graduate last year – it was brutal. I may have even visited a jobcentre, oh it was horrible, will no one think of the children!? – ahem, anyway after being unemployed last year for a period of around four months I was partaking in the most delightful little experiment with gainful employment. Except, alas dear Yorrick, it is August, as we’ve covered already, and in my industry that means that there is no work and I am left sitting by my phone begging, willing, pleading with it to ring so as to get as the working poor call it ‘a shift’.

Yes, I, good blog readers and assorted gays and lesbians and the hags that love them, I am underemployed.

I know, but don’t cry for me Argentina. Also if you don’t know what underemployment is go look it up…I’ll wait. La di da dum de dum …did anyone else see Mistresses tonight? Good wa’n it? That Joanna Lumley! – loves her. Right? We all good you know what it is? Good.

So yah; I’m totally underemployed. I have no work this month – well I have some but so far I’ve only worked two days and am only booked to work a handful more. And more importantly I just bought Kathy Griffin’s autobiography on Amazon today so God only knows how I’m going to squeeze that little treat for oneself (I’m so stressed you see!) into my already JLo-in-spanx-levels of tight budget.

Still it could be worse; I could, as other Economic Migrant (of which, technically, I kinda am because one did sort of move here as New Zealand’s dollar is owned by the peso) are forced to do go and clean people’s houses for my green card. Or worse, go back to Mexico. And I’ve already been to Mexico – and after like five minutes, I was like let’s go!

So, gosh, yah what am I to do? Luckily my Mother has guilt about the traumas of my childhood so throws cash at me – she doesn’t. Bitch is tighter than a Jew at Walmart – but I still managed to squeeze money out of her (It involved threatening suicide and publishing incriminating photos) but aside from that I am, as the English would say, skint… Guv’nor.

I’ve been ‘skint’ before. Oh, lordy have I been skint before. I have been single mother levels of broke-ass-hodom more times than Oprah’s had bulimia. But I tire of it. Just once I’d like to be all nice and cosy and confident that when I go to buy a bucket of fried chicken my card won’t read DECLINED BEYOTCH!  Is that too much to ask, good people of the world?

Anyway must dash to my second job on the street corner; Shanequia is holding my spot but if I don’t get back soon she’ll be all cracked up and start cutting bitches. And we’ve had enough police call outs to scare off the johns for this week thank you very much!

Think of me on the breadline.

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Hello World

Posted by idetest on June 2, 2010

I like words and bitching. Also I ran out of chocolate biscuits and to compensate I made a blog.

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