It looks like lips + feels like teeth...
Is there anything more annoying than people in your office sniggering behind their computers in work?
Oh wait, yes there is...
Anyone who knows me knows I adore Josie & the Pussycats. Yet of all characters, real and fictional, in this world there are few that I hate as much as I hate Alan M. This be-flip-flopped, indie-shite, guitar-wielding, wuss of a poseur whose songs suck complete and utter bollocks (and only decides he loves Josie when she is super famous and rich) turns me. Really, who wants a boyfriend who stands at your hotel room door singing, 'I'm the guy that brings the pizza, the kind that's good to eat-sa...' DIE! ALAN M! DIE!!!! Imagine my joy then last night when I turn on the telly and find 'Alan M' in crap teen slasher Cherry Falls where he is aptly a crap boyfriend pressurising poor lovely Brittany Murphy into sex and then brutally rebuking her when she DOES decide to give it up to him (altho she does stick her foot in his mouth). 'Yes!' I thought, 'He's going to get hacked into tiny pieces by some psycho!' But he didn't! Two hours of watching the crappy movie and the idiot survives!!!!! There is no justice in the world. None.
(Of course I like to think that when the final scenes of Josie & The Pussycats roll, as Alan M stands stage right playing really really revoltingly limp-wristed air guitar, that this is not the end of the tale. Clearly Josie will soon come to her senses and dump the little weasel for someone much tastier and more manly. Like perhaps a Travis Barker type character who will share her passion for trucks and custom cars and proper guitars and home-made tshirts and will kiss her in a much more satisfactory and passionate manner than that attention-seeking on-stage slurp that Alan M delivered. Consequently the perfect kiss, I believe, should have not too much tongue, should not be dribbly, should oscillate between being quite forceful (with biting yum) and very very gentle, should come complete with passionate grabbing of eachother, should take you by surprise a little bit, should leave you a bit breathless. Oh my god I havent kissed anyone in weeks and weeks but am so over that whole being 18 and kissing anything that moves and has hair. *Sigh*)
I'd love to go to that gig in Lavery's tonight but I've no way up or back from Belfast so it prob ain't gonna happen. Plans for this week:
Monday: Practice bass, bubble bath, go to bed.
Tuesday: Sin City with Ian
Wednesday: Puppy-sitting my uncle's new teeny black lab Beckan followed by band practice.
At some point in the next 3 days i will also be attending a MONSTER TRUCK SHOW!!!
What a random load of waffle I have just subjected you all to. Apologies.
Oh wait, yes there is...
Anyone who knows me knows I adore Josie & the Pussycats. Yet of all characters, real and fictional, in this world there are few that I hate as much as I hate Alan M. This be-flip-flopped, indie-shite, guitar-wielding, wuss of a poseur whose songs suck complete and utter bollocks (and only decides he loves Josie when she is super famous and rich) turns me. Really, who wants a boyfriend who stands at your hotel room door singing, 'I'm the guy that brings the pizza, the kind that's good to eat-sa...' DIE! ALAN M! DIE!!!! Imagine my joy then last night when I turn on the telly and find 'Alan M' in crap teen slasher Cherry Falls where he is aptly a crap boyfriend pressurising poor lovely Brittany Murphy into sex and then brutally rebuking her when she DOES decide to give it up to him (altho she does stick her foot in his mouth). 'Yes!' I thought, 'He's going to get hacked into tiny pieces by some psycho!' But he didn't! Two hours of watching the crappy movie and the idiot survives!!!!! There is no justice in the world. None.
(Of course I like to think that when the final scenes of Josie & The Pussycats roll, as Alan M stands stage right playing really really revoltingly limp-wristed air guitar, that this is not the end of the tale. Clearly Josie will soon come to her senses and dump the little weasel for someone much tastier and more manly. Like perhaps a Travis Barker type character who will share her passion for trucks and custom cars and proper guitars and home-made tshirts and will kiss her in a much more satisfactory and passionate manner than that attention-seeking on-stage slurp that Alan M delivered. Consequently the perfect kiss, I believe, should have not too much tongue, should not be dribbly, should oscillate between being quite forceful (with biting yum) and very very gentle, should come complete with passionate grabbing of eachother, should take you by surprise a little bit, should leave you a bit breathless. Oh my god I havent kissed anyone in weeks and weeks but am so over that whole being 18 and kissing anything that moves and has hair. *Sigh*)
I'd love to go to that gig in Lavery's tonight but I've no way up or back from Belfast so it prob ain't gonna happen. Plans for this week:
Monday: Practice bass, bubble bath, go to bed.
Tuesday: Sin City with Ian
Wednesday: Puppy-sitting my uncle's new teeny black lab Beckan followed by band practice.
At some point in the next 3 days i will also be attending a MONSTER TRUCK SHOW!!!
What a random load of waffle I have just subjected you all to. Apologies.