It's been too long, mon amis! Coventry University has, it seems, at last succeeded in taking over my entire life with a mixture of exam doom, dissertation trauma and general LGB upheaval. Anyway, I thought it might be nice for those who still bother to read this thing to at least finish off in some kind of style with a final entry...

Where to start?


I'm still living in Stoke Green with the ex-Pink One, winding up my final year at uni. I finished my dissertation about a month ago and I'm now fumbling my way through exams. I just got paid about £400 for some celebrity obituaries I wrote back in February for the company who owns the Daily Mail (beggars can't be choosers...) which is the first time I've ever really been paid for my writing, so that was a buzz. Moving to Bristol in about a month -- as soon as we find a place to live, that is. Hopefully there, I'll be able to find a job doing some I can at least pretend to enjoy for a while, until I either A) become a superstar journalist B) become an Oscar-winning screenwriter or C) finally get around to taking over the world. Kate has got a job at Bristol airport, working on security, so next time you fly from there you'll know who to blame for that duty free you got confiscated........

I do miss the old days of uni, where all we ever did was spend money and laze about procrastinating, but, in truth, I actually still do that so I guess it's not so bad. I've been ready to leave uni and particularly Coventry for about a year now so I'm just praying I manage to pass these exams, then I can get the HELL OUT OF HERE!

Hope everyone's okay and things haven't been too normal in my absence...

Add me on My Space if you haven't already -- http://www.myspace.com/twiggystardust



Ah, Live Journal! Good times!

I did this ages ago but jay_nyasu_mint recently posted it and I felt like maybe it was time to get a new one.

LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:	dirtymagazine
Your haiku:	a tic tac oh just get me an archers thanks i have got to snap out
Username:
Created by Grahame

I think I'm going mad.


I just went to the bathroom to get some loo roll, as I somehow managed to fizz Lucozade all over my desk, and then instead of just simply putting the roll back onto the toilet tank I threw it INTO THE TOILET.

My journeys home from town are becoming weirder and weirder. The other week an undertaker in the back of a passing hearse smiled and waved at me (it sounds as if I'm joking, but disturbingly I'm not) and just now a French man who looked very much like Clark Gable moved to one side on the bridge so I could pass, while blasting out Unchained Melody on a portable DVD player tucked under his arm.

Coz it's the fashion
Comment on this post and...

1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you, or I will include an icon just for you in my reply.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

Much fun was had at Distraction on Friday. Chris and I checked in about 10.30 and Kate, Dan, Lucy, Laura, and Pete landed about half an hour later. I drank copious amounts of watered down Fosters, Lucy took far too many pictures of everything that moved, and Chris PULLED a Swedish guy in the toilets (well, he was blonde anyway). While the others all caught the coach at 3am, Chris, Lucy and I managed to miss it and spent the next three hours at New Street train station. This involved:

- Completely useless security guards
- A mad dash for the toilet
- A collection of likewise stranded individuals who joined us on the floor for early-morning banter
- A German man (who actually turned out to be Spanish) who spent the entire time sleeping in a nearby photo booth
- The corruption of minors as Lucy urged a little girl to run under the toilet barriers
- Unimpressed toilet attendant lady who, according to one guy, had been on the Weakest Link!
- Phone calls from Kate, now home and bruised courtesy of Crazy Bus-Man who pulled to a complete stop on the DUAL CARRIAGEWAY and apparently yelled, "You only use toilet on motorway network!!"
- A photo of what Lucy has termed Team New Street, thanks to a passing stranger
- Finally, a train home at 6am and bed for 7!






www.fuggyred.blogspot.com

Jesus, I just swallowed an Extra strong mint.

Milly died early this morning.
She wasn't even a year old.

Even after a post-mortem and countless blood tests, the vet still doesn't know for certain what killed her. What she does know is that she had a virus, probably genetic, which eventually caused her entire system to collapse. She was having seizures throughout last night and hadn't eaten for a week.





I feel as if I've lost a friend.

Hello, LiveJournal fans!

It is I! International superstar journalist, Kate Bond!


I'm joined by local (European) celebrity (Hola!) Dru Franklin.


*** PARTY ALERT ! PARTY ALERT ! PARTY ALERT ***


Together we are hosting a party on Monday 14th November and you're all invited! Aren't you lucky! Bring any friends and alcohol you might have lying around and we'll provide the sausage rolls and plastic cups (because we understand how much friends like sausage rolls. and plastic cups).

Allow me to present 56 Radford Road:
(Science bit: first door opens OUTWARDS, second door inwards)




Keep your eyes peeled for excess balloonage and hope to see you there!

You can call me (CALL ME!) Kate on 0773 184 8739.



YEAH! SEE YOU THERE! 8PM......SQUARE! YEAH!

I was going to update this properly but I really can't be bothered forming the words.



As Jane Austen once said...

Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.


-----------------------------------------

Yes, I am a loser.

Milly has been neutered and is now lampshade-bound.

Allow me to illustrate:


"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that
the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way..."




I don't know what is going on downstairs.
I think Alun and James are on acid.

Go to google.com and type "(your name) needs"
Then pick the 5 funniest ones there.

Then copy and paste this into a new post with your answers filled in.



1.) Kate needs to go back to living in her car and working at the diner

2.) Kate needs to smarten up a bit

3.) Kate needs to be added to default find-in-files list

4.) Kate needs to be exposed for *everything* evil she has done

5.) Kate needs to get past high school dating to adult dating

Bad moods are so yesterday.

really... if i take any longer getting ready, the colly will be closed by the time me and dru get there!

Okay, to be honest, I'm kind of getting used to seeing washed up actors at the Belgrade. They sit in the bar after a show and drink the posh red wine, but they're either too old for me to know their work or, if it's late, I'm just dying to get home.

However, last night I met this guy:




Not many of you will know him but I recognised him straight away. His name is Andy Hockley and, aside from starring as the Dame in the annual Belgrade panto, he appeared in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and one of my (somewhat grudgingly) favourite films Much Ado About Nothing. I sat and chatted with him for what must have been an hour (I get paid double time for this?!) and did you know:


+ The reason why Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson split up was because she got itchy feet
+ When Michael Keaton first arrived on set he had to go get a costume fitted so asked Andy if he would go upstairs to a balcony and keep his girlfriend occupied. What I didn't know was that it was Courtney Cox and that, when he found her, she was drinking a bottle of white wine at 10am in the morning.
+ Re: Kate Beckinsale's dad's suicide. Apparently what never came out in the papers was that she was the one who found him dead in his bed one morning, at only 5 years old, hence why she has "so many issues" today.
+ He invited Ken and Emma to his wedding but they were in Cannes at the time, so they sent him a fax which he now has framed on his wall.
+ It took 27 takes to get that last (stupendous) scene right.




If you can't tell from this, I was quite awestruck.

Work last night was a killer. 5pm until 3am: a non-stop barrage of VIP's who all thought they were better than the rest, a queue the size of a small country, a DJ who thought he was headlining at Woodstock, and not one minute break throughout the whole evening. However, I did make £7 tips which I am admittedly proud of.

Tonight was Jazz Night.


----------------------------------------------

There's this little old woman who comes in for every show called Beryl. She must be about 90, and drinks either rum and black or whiskey and peppermint. She'll search through her red purse for what seems like an eternity for the correct change and sit in the corner, alone, nodding her head to Bobby Darin or whatever crap is on the iPod at the time. She's so sweet, really pleasant, but I feel incredibly sorry for her because she's at that age where it's difficult to do anything and she looks like such an interesting person. And then the wankers come in, with their 8 Carling's and a Malibu and Coke, void of even the slightest bit of intelligence or respect, and I just think for fuck's sake...

I always pity old people. I don't know why.
I often feel the need to talk to them about the war.


I didn't charge her for the dash of cordial in a fit of niceness.

Little girl: "Mummy, what do teenagers do?"

Exasperated mother: "Nothing, they're just teenagers, sweetheart."

"Frankly, I would rather live in Dawn's arse."


If it meant never cleaning out a litter tray again, I would.

Allow me to introduce Milly: the latest addition to Radford Road.