Cheers to everyone for the comments, they make a girl feel really wanted, and highly readable!  Talking of readable I just love the new look Marie Claire magazine.  It's a little smaller, the same size as American magazines, nice and chunky, and as-per-usual bursting with praise for women around the world who are worthy of it (note to Heat & Closer: being a dress size 4 and a fashion sheep/giving up normal habits of life to eat dust as persuaded by a magazine team does not make someone Amazing), such as the feature on female Olympic athletes, which are often sparse in the popular women's media, unless you count Now magazine featuring Denise Lewis on holiday as part of their "stunning beach babes picture special".  Gee, all those hours of training and all that dedication are so worthwhile when the only recognition you get for your talents is to be put in a picture special alongside a few orange, anorexic soap actress sluts.  How about some real credit for some of the few women who are in the spotlight for a good reason and not because all the readers of Loaded want to knob them?  Cheers Marie Claire for showing us there are a few female features editors who have more brains than fake tan!
 
Don't worry I'm not being paid by IPS Media, I just think Marie Claire really is worthy of praise.  Ok, the fact that it runs with the herd when it comes to images of women in fashion does let the side down a little, but at least it doesn't bommbard us with a different take on the message "Your only aim in life is to attract boys" each month or "reader's sex confessions" (frankly I really don't care how everyone's having sex).

***

The many shortcomings of a 9am (what an insane hour, I always intend to be way in dreamland at that time for the next three months) appointment with the agency prove that every cloud does indeed have a silver lining.  Or at least it's hoped.  I nearly didn't go after a late 8am start but after truly stunning myself that I was able to dry my hair, dress and be made up in under half an hour I decided to venture in, and am glad that I did.  There is a prospective job in the next town, and providing I pass the data entry test at the agency, it may well be mine.  Of course along with the joy induced by the prospect of extra £££, came the ability to delve into my old past time of navigation via Google and a little AA road map of the area-my favourite posession so far, and after about 15 minutes I have now found a successful route to my prospective new job.

 

 

Message In A Body

'Scuse the title-of-episode-of-sitcom-esque title of this post, just, owing to my intellectual shortcomings, I couldn't think of another way to sum up my post...
 
The absence of posts for the past week or so has been due to yours truly being bedridden with an ear infection, the resulting deafness of which I am suffering from now.  It's been a long time since the outside world hasn't sounded like it's being broadcast to me through a sock; and the paint on the remote control with which "8" is drawn is starting to fade and disintegrate with excess wear, such is my reliance on on-screen subtitles.
 
Ailment-wise I'm beginning to notice some sort of trend where type of illness is concerned.  The last three illnesses I've had have all been infections of some sort, and usually recurrent similar illnesses are your body's way of telling you to give it a little more TLC, godammit.  My body hasn't just told me this by forcing me to become a pus-emitting, deaf and bed-ridden disaster, but it's also proverbially hit me where it really hurts-dramatically fucking up my appearance-eeek!  My skin has erupted into a mass of spots, my period has become the period from hell, and my skin has taken on a grey, diry pallor.
Still, I'm not entirely blameless, I eat about as healthy a diet as Homer Simpson, have a sleeping pattern that can only be described as erratic and do as much exercise as your average British child if the media's opinion is anything to go by.  So Allegra has decided to pursue the healthy lifestyle alongside her current quest for intellectualism (is that a word?  Isn't the fact I am asking that in such circumstances ironic!).  I'm to eat my recommended five portions of f 'n' v a day, take my vitamin supplements, which have been gathering dust since fresher's week-apart from the time when I thought if I took them for one day my then-flu would be miraculously cured and my skin glowing-and try and get more exercise than the current sedentary jaunt to the local newsagents to get the Telegraph, my latest compulsory daily habit, the cigarettes taking a backseat till I'm 500 miles across the UK in mid-September again (see how I am maternally oppressed?!  I have to go cross-country to have a fag, and independantly pursue any other unhealthy or "unbecoming" habits that give me pleasure, promiscuous sexual activity being another example). 
 
Hopefully I should soon see the benefits.  Well, I bloody hope so...

In my current state of menstrual-ville, Leticia McKenzie's brilliant post on stomach cramps evoked a real growl of agreement from myself...
 
http://leticiamckenzie.blogspot.com/

 

Food for thought...

Or so to speak, just found an interesting article relating to my previous PMT-induced rant...
 
http://www.thefword.org.uk/features/perfect.live
 
It says all I wanted to say, just in a more rational and intellectual format!

Issues...

Kitten Blue's current issues really struck a chord with me.  I've always felt I'm not pretty/stylish/interesting/sexy enough, particularly where the opposite sex are concerned.  It's not only seeing girls who seem to have it all and feeling a sad sort of jealousy, but lads magazines that also compound that constantly nagging "Who'd fancy you?!".

Now I know women's magazines are far from blameless, but I seem to be a little more immune to them.  It hits a raw nerve when you've never really attracted men, and have been in bad relationships when you see stick-thin but huge breasted, confident,. fair haired and tanned beauties deemed as the criteria for what men want physically, and the guys your age can't really see beyond physical "beauty", often finding clever girls "sad".

For a long while most days or thoughts on improvement have been based around "How can I get guys to look at me for once?", and it's a nasty trap to get into, because I really don't know, and any media advice, plus what I see in the world goes against pretty much most of who I am...

How Gorgeous Is...

...Mark Strong (link and pic on the bottom left) in BBC Two's The Long Firm? 

Phwoar, tall dark handsome stranger, phwoar.  Dunno what it is about fictional gangster types, I just love 'em.  I must be the only person who had sexual fantasies about half of the characters of Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrells...

The Return

Aaah finally back after an agonizingly long time without the internet, thanks to a few fuck-ups at AOL and us simply not having it all wired up properly.  I see the post format on Blogger has changed a little, but for the better, it's amazing how a new font can make you want to write more.  Or is that just me?!

There is much to report...
Had the most fun weekend for a long while, especially since relocating to rurality.  Went out for my cousin's 30th birthday, which was great, just my kinda party-a well stocked bar, very loud music, lots of good-looking, young men.  I thought what with it being a 30th it would be  a little dry but as I said, it was my sort of do.  Plus I did get some male attention, but me being me didn't grab the proverbial bull, goddamit.  That would hav been my sexual fulfilment and summer entertainment sorted.  Bugger. 
Staying there for the afterparty, however, made me realise how crap my music collection is, seeing as my cousin has a massive chest of drawers chock-full of CD's.  So one of my summer resolutions is to get some new tunes, starting with the ones on my "Most Wanted" list.  I was surprised how cheap singles are these days, either 79p on iTunes or £1+ in HMV.  My avid single-buying was kickstarted on Monday with the purchase of Shapeshifters' Lola's Theme, which has become my latest anthem.

The employment front has taken a bit of a turn up with a few interested calls from recruitment agencies after I spent an epic afternoon handing in CVs to every recruitment agency in town-epic because not only did I get stuffily dressed-up on a hot day when fellow females were floating around in cute racer-back vests and jeans, I also got blisters from my "smart" shoes.

I have also managed to independantly navigate myself around town via public transport, and with great ease.  Plus I am resuming my quest for a driving license-something that has developed Holy Grail-ish properties where I am concerned.  So progress seems to have been made on rather a few fronts, imagine, male attention, job prospects, independant travel, what's next?!  Perhaps a small fortune to boost my "peas on a drum" bank account, as well as counteract the horror of my bank statement, the first one I've ever bothered to read.  I spend money like it's going out of fashion.  But there's always so many things I want!!!

Some financial progress, without the need to CamWhore myself would be nice.

 

Did anyone see The Hole on Channel 4 on Sunday?

Despite how it was panned by the critics, I rather enjoyed it, and got a little scared.  I feel they got the nasty atmosphere of high-school politics spot on.

But whilst Keira Knightley can easily play the babe, and probably with more right to than her silicone-enhanced, make-up plastered and skimply-dressed, high fashion counterparts, how on earth could the beautiful Thora Birch be cast as the troubled and undesirable weirdo?
In my opinion she's gorgeous, no more so than in the brilliant Ghost World, where she oozed a weird sort of sexiness.

Mmmmmm...asturbation

Having a very sexual time at the moment. And no, it's not because I have found a new man (gee I wish).

Thanks to little bro' going back to London for the week I have a big room to myself again, and I found myself taking advantage of such freedom by randomly stripping off and straddling a pillow till I came good and hard at 2am this morning. And it was fucking good.

Thing is, once I know I have the freedom to masturbate I will just do it all the time. I can feel myself getting turned on now and know that as soon as I sign off I'll be jilling away like no-one's business. I tried to masturbate in the bath tonight, using the new technique of applying a glob of baby oil gel to my fingers and playing but I can't open my legs wide enough in the tub, goddamit. So I ended up lying on the bathroom floor again, violently twitching as I came, being unable to shout out as the folks were about.


I need sex. I was chatting to a pal online and talking about the guys on our floor in a very sexual sense. They are all hot, and I swear I would give each and every one of them the most amazing blow job. I prefer blow jobs to kissing and sex sometimes. I love that feeling when guys groan, or they are about to come and push themselves further in your mouth. And I love exploring a penis with my tongue tip. Mmmm, wish I had someone I could call to suck like a Chupa Chup ;-)

Comments and such...

Back to good old Haloscan for comments, for those of you who wish to remain anonymous!


On another note things are looking up where relocation is concerned. Recently found a whole new part to the town centre and zillions of job vacancies, result! Not to mention a kitsch Chinese gift shop and a good nail salon or two. So now I don't need to wait till my nails are an acrylic disaster and I am able to hitch a lift with the folks back to "me roots".
Ah...

Boredom. INANE boredom.

Indeed.
The novelty of lie-ins and days lying around reading, watching videos and surfing the net is well and truly wearing off. In fact I think it already has worn off.
Today I woke up at 13.00, ate, watched Home & Away, which I haven't watched for donkey's years, dressed, watched a video, read a bit, ate again, watched telly, sat on my bed staring into space for a bit, and now I'm here tapping away in a trance. The thing is with me that if I become bored for too long I then become lazy and my summer holidays will whizz by in a haze of cereal, TV and random, selfish blog postings. the body clock must be sorted.
Leaving the house wasn't an option, as my area has been battered by a storm for the last twenty-four hours which also made any attempt at watching Freeview impossible, as the wind has stolen my music videos and home shopping and replaced it with flickering dots and choppy sound. Not only that but I am without driving license and any sound knowledge of the local public transport system, so even if the weather had been perfect I'm still imprisoned for fear of getting on a bus and ending up god knows where. I miss being so near London, or so near civilization in fact. I used to be near three big towns and only a cheap train ride away from the metropolis, so boredom was never previously an issue. I'm planning a trip to London to take pics of all my fave sights and spots to keep me going in between saving up for the extortionate train fares. Plus I had a fully functioning TV set and a box full of various videos. Now I have only four videos I'm having to stretch out for infinity (you know, having major thoughts about whether it's necessary to watch this video now, or whether there is likely to be an even more mind-numbingly bored moment, etc).

I also have no privacy, something that's a big shock to me after my snug little dorm at uni with a door that locked, and my cosy little room at my old house. Here I am sharing a room with my brother, who seems to find it amusing to whack me with mouse mats and things or just generally get right up in my boat (for y'all the other side of the pond, boat is short for boatrace, Cockney slang for face. I seem to have become influenced by Martina Cole novels). Not only do I have to queue for the internet (argh!), but I also now have to masturbate in a locked bathroom, risky in itself because my brother finds it hilarious to turn off the bathroom light (the switch is outside the door you see). Much has changed since the improptu pleasuring myself if I happened to feel horny and wanking over free soft internet porn, god damn it. I'm having to delete my history each time I log off the net, for fear of having my blog read.

Hopefully I will hear from the numerous job applications, seeing as at the moment taxi-ing the proverbial runway of employment is pissing me off big time. Not only am I bored I'm also flat broke, I can't even get £10 out of a cash machine, this being how empty my account is. The few coins in there are like peas on a drum.


It just seems so stupid and so wasteful. At the weekend we found out the daughter of one of our old neighbours died suddenly on holiday. She was only four years older than me. News like that reminds me of how little time I truly have to waste in bed, or watching videos or doing very little, particularly moaning. This isn't a self-pitying rant, it's more an angry one, that there really is bugger all to do here.

I guess searching for bus timetables, being a little more active, getting out of bed early and seeking stuff to do here really is all there is left to do...

So someone IS reading...

...the lovely Kitten Blue!

So What Am I Gonna Do With A Blank Three Months?

Well employment is a definite time-consumer. Not only am I severely pissed off with my lack of cash, and my lack of effort for the cash I currently get, but I really just wanna get out and work, just to do something. Living in a totally different neighbourhood 50 miles away from my old home and 500 miles away from my parallel existence at university I really am isolated, having to pay at least £15 and sit on a train for at least an hour to at least see someone I actually know.

I also want to finally get my driving license. Being unable to travel a great distance totally independently pisses me off and now I am away from the total road-hell that was my former home, now's as perfect a time as any.

I want to read lots of books, but not just books I know I SHOULD read, but books I WANT to read. So I'm planning my reading by the month, seeing as I usually polish off a book a week-with the great three-month exception that is Anna Karenina-and hoping to read two books I HAVE to read (being a literature student I feel this is most wise), one I WANT to read, and one everyone's raving about, simply to be aware of the current fiction scene like all my pals.

I want to resume my horse-riding, and this should be so easy in my new rural surroudings.

I want to get some exercise, seeing as my Glamour magazine "Summer Sex" horoscope advises a summer of exercise and preening in order to recieve a sexual surprise in the Autumn. And heaven knows I need a bloody sexual surprise after my relationship from hell and three months without a much needed "injection" (sorry, that was vile I know, but carnal starvation momentarily overtook my sense of decency).


I want to make the three months fly by...

One year over...

Despite my constant complaints of loneliness and claustrophobia regarding living in halls, I feel unbelievably sad that the experience is over. It's the feeling of regret at not making much more of the situation, and also the feeling of sadness that one of my life experiences is over.

It has slowly hit me over the last three days. When it was formally acknowledged in the shape of the final party in the hall bar I didn't feel a thing, but my own little reflections whilst packing and pottering about the place really drove into me the whole definate sense it was all over for good. The last few moments of having a million different shared playlists on my iTunes. Wandering down the drive to the vending machine, or to the laundry room, and hell, my last trip to the toilet. That's really what did it, my last shit in halls! And on the mundane drive home, with the endless passing of trees, signs, crash barriers, other cars, and the infinite strip of concrete slipping away under us, taking me further away, I reflected on my empty room. I remember opening the door on that place for the first time and crying 'cause it was so awful, but now feeling so sad I'd left it. It's weird how it looked exactly the same at two opposite points of my link to it.

Making more of a situation, what do I mean by that? Well, I mean that whilst I DID do a lot of things I never would have done a year previously, there were still a lot of things I feel I SHOULD have done there. Like being a little happier, a little more outgoing and perhaps getting to know people other than the ones who lived on my floor. And leaving my room once in a while to discover what was beyond sleep and the internet. Funny how I've been on the internet all year and now I'm at home with fuck all to do I can't be arsed to go online. I also wish that during that time online I wish I'd become a Samuel Pepys on a student loan and documented a little more of the place's wacky goings-on. Who knows, with a LOT of empty evenings to kill I may just dig deep in my memory and jot a few down for nostalgic sake. Yeh...that's an ideeee-a...
Oh yes, and taking more pictures. I didn't fulfil my aim to fill at least one album with memories of year one, and to go round the condemned-to-demolition halls that have served as my home for the last year and take a few photos of the place before it's a pile of dust and rubble. So now I'm frantically emailing friends for copies of ANY photos from year one.

Sadness comes from knowing that never again will all my pals be just down the corridor, that when one person is pissing you off you can simply go to someone else's room. Getting ready and going out all together. Whilst I'll be in a house with four pals, with the rest down the street or a short walk away it's not the same. Halls seem to have that constantly buzzing atmosphere, you can be pacing your tiny dorm with insomnia at 3.22am and still hear voices somewhere, not like in a silent house. The sights and sounds of halls, the constant thud of music and constant chatter, I will miss that too. Despite the whinging about the less-than-luxurious amenities there are some great memories from that place; late night gatherings in someone's room, spontaneous hall-parties or pizza fests, always having at least one person who wants to get glammed up and pop down the student union club night on a boring Saturday evening.

So I'm gonna sound like an old woman at this point, but for anyone who's going to uni this September and is gonna be living in halls, please, please make the absolute most of it. It really does go so fast. Talk to everyone, do everything, and most importantly, take lots of pictures.

xxx