One less than 12.

Hello everyone. It was second day of year 11 today and as a rite of passage into the controlling world that is the senior school, we had to write about what year 11 means to us. Had I been left any longer, you'd find me hanging from the ceiling.

Merry sodding Christmas

Hello everyone. Well, it's that time of year again. The time of year where we have to celebrate the birth of our lord and saviour by putting heaps of tinfoil shit around our house, eat a turkey that tastes of fried woodchips and spend an entire day with the unfortunate bastards that happen to share similar DNA with us. I hate the bloody thing, mainly because for me it marks the start of blackmail season.
For what has been a month now, I have been getting constantly blackmailed my someone who won't be named but who is supposed to have had a pretty prominent role in my life (hasn't though) and is basically the one that comes to mind whenever therapy is bought up and not in a good, let-me-help-you-help-yourself way). This person has been blackmailing me to spend Christmas with them and even though secretly I can't be arsed to get down to their place of residence on the day (there is no way that I'm spending 2 hours in holiday traffic), they can't see things from the same angle. This wouldn't be so much of a problem had I grown a spine and told this person that I would not be seeing them this Saturday. You can imagine where it goes from there.
To add insult to injury, this person will be surrounded by more people supporting their cause of getting me to spend my Christmas day with them, so it's going to be a full on blackmail jamboree! Break out your banjos everyone! May as well have a bit of music because 3 hours with the bastards and I stop playing 'Who Shall I Murder Slowly and Painfully First?' and start going for what feels natural. If this does end up happening, I might just start with myself.


In other news, I'm receiving and award tomorrow which should be a perverse mixture of fun and dull. Fun for a whole 5 seconds before couple of hours of dull. My computer's shat itself too, have to get that fixed....I want a herb garden.

Come on Cindrella- We've Gotta Get You Ready for the Ball!

Good morgen. It is now 8:23 in the AM, making the official formal countdown 8 hours and 37 minutes to go before I am at town hall looking my lovliest. truth be told I'm a little scared about the event- for one I'm supposed to have a hairdresser come over today and I'm worried she won't be able to find my house. I'll try counting to 10 to sort out that anxiety.
Everything is organsied, thank god. Limo, makeup, hair, nails, jewellery, shoes, undies (totally important) and of course, the dress. Here's praying it all goes according to plan.....

Miss Mustang and the Rainy-Day, Leaving-School, Chest-Infection Blues

Hello everyone. Well here I am, officially in the grey area in between year 10 and year 11. I ended school today on a somewhat mildew-coloured note- we finished this lame year 10 program they assigned to us where they gave us the whole "Oh, we do this because year 10s before have left earlier and found that they missed their friends."
Now, this little pep talk would have some substance to us, had they not decided to split us up form our actual friends and place in a mixed bag with candies of a different kind. If you're going to harp on about memories and affilitates, makes sure you don't sound like a fucking hypocrite.
Anyway, I had a chest infection pretty much all day and that coupled with the rain, understandably things are going to get a bit messy. But even so, I AM OUT OF FUCKING SCHOOL!!!!!!

Parole

Afternoon funsters! Well here I am, officially finished my school certificate and about to go on to work experience! I will never have to sit through another lesson of Computers, PE, Georgraphy, Maths or Science again! It feels like I've just been released from prison. A lot of those subjects bored me to some degree, so next year my subjects are going to be heavy on History, English and Art. I'll also be able to piss off certain teachers who've given me hell these past 4 years. I feel great!

Ladies and Gentlemen, We are About to Encounter Some Slight Turbulence.....

Jesus...what a week. Thankfully it's all over now, but you know those weeks where you're sure they're a provisonary apocalypse, just preparing for the big one? It was one of those.

It's was like a marriage really- that animosity that begins to brew for no reason amongst people that spend pretty much ever day together and then one day the shit hits the fan and it's up to you to clean youself up. It's just affirmed my reasons not to get married but anyway, that's what it was like in the land of last week. Things were said, others were felt but wholly we began to really understand eachother all at once for the first time in 3 and a half years.

Details of how and why it started and how and why it ended are a bit sketchy- maybe it's still continuing, I don't know. Maybe it's still continuing but the point is that were all civil (for lack of a better word) towards eachother. I feel better that this has all happened though, like I've finally started to heal or something.....

The Ties that Bind Around Your Neck Until You're Blue and in the ER.

What is family? Are they those people who share the same blood? Do they mysteriously come around of a Sunday with teacake to ask how you've been? Are they the ones who ring up of a night and send you their love? For me, they are the people who give you a very good reason to neck yourself in the bathroom.

Don't get me wrong- I love most of my family. MOST being the effective word here. Like everyone else on this big ball we call a planet, I have relatives who would be classified as crazy by me but sane by everyone else. I guess when you've grown up knowing these people, you become accustomed to their mannerisms, their beliefs, their habits...and become really fucking irritated by them after 16 years (yes- I'm older but not wiser).

In case you're wondering as to why I'm writing this, It's been a week since I came back from the obligatory family visit. I was sort of there voluntarily as it was my aunt's 50th birthday, but soon enough I realised why pubs and drugs were invented- it's to stop civilization from going absolutely spare because of the dynasty to which I belong (against my will).

First it started with the younger cousin following me around ABSOLUTELY EVERYFUCKINGWHERE. It was madness- I mean, I know I'm supposed to go "Awww...it's so cute" but seriously, she's 10 and kept singing that shit Gabriella Cilmi song over and over, always finishing with a "Sorry- I'm annoying you aren't I?"
I just hate it because she was a part of that generation that decided that discipline isn't the answer to effective parenting (yet another thing we can thank those fuckers - the parenting books written by pseudo-intellectual twats with a million and 1 (fake) PhDs to make it seem that buying this crap is a good idea- for), so she's basically been allowed to do whatever the hell she wants, thus turning her into a spoilt brat. Don't get me wrong, I love the girl, I love her to bits...but seriously, once the brat within begins to surface, I consider the following actions:

1. stop playing who 'Who Shall I Kill First' and go for what feels natural
2. see above

Then there are the aunts. I love being with most of them but theres one (who is incidentally the mother of the brat) what really gets up my strides.....She's very Stepford Wives and that just really fucking pisses me off. She fusses and fusses and fusses...it's enough to make you want to turn into that chick off the exorcist all over the glazed ham. She gave me mugs for my birthday. Fucking mugs. I mean, I know there's that saying "Oh you know, it's the thought that counts"- well, I don't think there was much thought at all when they got bloody kitchenware for a 16 year old.

Then there is the blackmail- compulsory whenever I see my family. The shit flinging begins in the form of "Oh, we don't see you very often." Did it never occur to them that there may be a reason for that?

Now the attempts at changing who the hell you are. For those that know me, you have seen that I wear a very distinuishable hat. In fact, the only way you wouldn't be able to notice it was if you were blind because I'm pretty sure that the space race India and Pakistan will be based around whoever can see my hat form the moon first. Anyway, most people are cool with it, except my Grandma. Taking into account that she's a bit old fashioned I suppose I should be a bit less abrasive but COME ON- IT'S A HAT!!!! I'm not wearing camel turds, a flamethrower, crotchless pants or a suit made out of genitals. I am wearing a hat...hear that? HAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT..... No genital suits- HAAAAAAT.
Anwyway, every time I see her I am hinted to take of the hat.

"Now darling, don't you think it would be a good time to take of the hat?"
"Missy, if we have a photo later, would you mind taking off the hat?"
"Come on, be a good girl and take off the hat for Grandma."

Not in your life, Miss Depends 2009.
Oh, she's stopped referring to me by my first name as well. I'm continuously called Missy. I honestly think senility has caught up with her and soon enough I'll be questioned on the best deals going for Avon/Hoover. She's started to call my Dad- her only son- the same.

I know I'm horrible. I've been made this way. The cruellest part about all this is that I still bloody well love them.