Jumping On The... Horse And Cart

In January, some scientists found some horse in a burger. I had a very strong initial response to this, and it was one of AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

See, I'm a vegetarian, and while I'm not the sort to go around slapping people eating KFC, screaming "YOU BASTARD, THINK OF HOW MANY CHICKENS YOU'RE IMPRISONING  TORTURING AND MURDERING. THEY HAVE FEELINGS TOO YOU KNOW!!1!", I do feel a little bit smug. 

It's not so much that I think people who eat meat are 'finally getting what they deserve', as such, it's more that  sort of smugness that crops up when something bad happens to people who aren't you. I sat in a corner with my salad, and cackled as the media descended into an infernal outrage.

Which I think was the best bit about, what Wikipedia has dubbed, the 2013 Meat Adulteration Scandal. The press treated it as if the manufacturers were playing a nation wide game of Russian Roulette, by sneakily sprinkling horse into one burger out of every ten, and that the only conclusion was that everyone would somehow be horribly poisoned. They had to call in 'top scientists' (the majority of which were students with lab coats) to reassure all England that there was not actually enough horse meat in anything that could be in anyway harmful. None of the horses that had accidently been dropped into the mincer contained drugs, and everyone was going to be totally fine, honest, cross our hearts and hope to die.

The only problem was, that for once, no one actually needed reassuring. The entire population, as a whole, seemed to just shrug and go "Well, these things happen.", before carrying on moaning about the weather, and slagging off Micheal Gove. The only food that contained horse was, and is, dirt cheap. The people who were actually eating it quietly agreed that they probably should have seen it coming, and looked a bit sad. Everyone in the middle class tutted, in a "As if we'd shop at Tesco's" sort of way, and went back to staring at the free range washing powder in Waitrose. 

And I think everyone knows that the upper class has been nibbling on polo pony on cracker for decades. They're not called Hor(se) d'ourves for nothing.

The other thing that surprised me was the we were all very rational about the whole thing. Everyone seemed to recall the fact that, just because we are not culturally inclined to eat horse, doesn't mean that others aren't, and it isn't necessarily all that unethical. We don't make a habit out of it, but we made a habit of eating cow. 

So, y'know, thanks a lot British press. It's time to move on now.

My Life Would Be So Much Easier If I Just Didn't Have Lungs

I'm ill, and it sucks. I hate being ill, because I do little enough at the best of times, but when I'm ill, my productivity drops below freezing. Actually, I just came up with a good system: from now on I shall measure productivity in temperature.

Anyway, I am ill, and I have so voice, which sucks balls, because this week alone I should have three drama lessons, one singing lesson, one elocution lesson, and one goddamn drama exam, which I now probably won't be able to do, if I can't talk by Saturday. Ew.
Plus, I missed media yesterday, which is always a downer, because my media teachers are incredible (especially MH, becuase unlike most teachers, he actually seems human, and isn't afraid to bully me, and accept to be bullied back).

Speaking of teachers, we had a fire drill the other week, while HB and I were doing some work, so we trudged outside, and I shoved my hat on, because it was freezing. As soon as it was over, we decided to go get a cup of tea before going back to work. I figured that since we'd only be inside for about five minutes, I'd leave my hat on, no one would care. Wrong, one of the teachers told me to take it off, and told me to not wear it again (it's against uniform rules). I said yes Sir, sorry Sir, because I'm a good student (honest). Then I saluted him. Because I'm a dick. Now he's out for my blood. 
We told MH about it later, and he made me fall off my chair, because I was laughing too hard at him skipping around the room singing about capitalism. I love school. 


Things I love while I'm stuck feeling sorry for myself:

Salvador Dali Eating A Bowl Of Surreal 
This Bat Skeleton Tattoo
Map Of The Roots Of State Names, Translated Into English
Knickerocker

Check out my tumblr

It's Not Actually Dreaming If You're Awake And Not Drunk

So quite often I end up going into way too much detail about a dream that I had the night before,  to any friends who were apparently in said dream. 

Most of the time this is a downright lie. See, I daydream like, a lot, and my daydreams are always really interesting/funny/weird, so I feel a need to share them. However I also feel that if I go up to someone and say "I was sat in the library the other day and totally daydreamed that we ran away to Peru together and ended up adopting three children and living in a tree house." they will probably just back away and hope I don't know where they live.

BUT, if I say it was a dream (the kind you have when you're asleep), due to the fact that it was my subconscious creating the whole scenario, it resolves me of any creepy weirdness, and thus I escape without being labeled as a pedo. So quite often I end up telling people about these weird day dreams I have, but saying it was a night time dream. Even though it's probably just as creepy either way.

For example, I just got out of the bath, and I had a daydream that HB was talking to me about her media coursework, and ended up taking a photo of me, naked in the bath, and showing it to our media group. I would like to point out that this isn't entirely unlikely. Also, be flattered HB. The only person who has ever had the privilege hard luck to see me in the bath is CB. 

Normally I tell HB about this tomorrow, but say it was a dream instead. Now I'm going to face up to me demons, and tell her it was actually just a daydream. 
Not face to face, christ, what's wrong with you. I'm just going to tweet this to her and hope she doesn't stab me in the morning.

It's OK Mum, it Turns Out I'm Just Camp!

Yesterday we had the best media lesson of out lives, ever. We were learning about queer theory.
You can see where this is going.
I should mention that in media last week, I very violently outed myself as a lady lover (I like to say lezbitron, because it makes me sound like a transformer. Hands up who gets the joke.)
Anyway anyway anyway.
So we were sat in media (HB and I endlessly grinning/giggling to ourselves at either the references or the rest of the class not knowing what heterosexual meant, etc.), and we got to a conversation about campness in the media. Que lots of pictures of Graham Norton, Alan Carr, etc, etc. Someone asked what sort of things defined 'camp'. "Well, it's hard to define. It's quite general, it's usually men who are quite bitchy, make witty remarks, have good fashion sense, quite glamorous, you know?"
"Sir, is it only men who are camp?"
"No, women can be camp as well."
Oh my god. I'd never thought about that before. I had always thought campness could only be applied to feminine men, but the more I thought about it, I realized I didn't know any women who may possibly be in Ab Fab. Apart from, well, me. And I realized I wasn't just a bitch with excellent dress sense, I was camp! It was like a light bulb had been turned on, suddenly everything made sense!
This is why I have an affiliation for glitter, small dogs and sarcasm!
Now I've officially come out as camp to my Mum, everything been much easier. She now understands why I feel a need to watch Gok Wan and rip X Factor contestants to shreds.
So, this is my message for the week, if you know you are camp, do not be ashamed! Embrace the campness.

Back To School

I'm finally back at school.
This is my last year at secondary school, where I will finally sit the exams that will (literally) decide what I will do for the rest of my life.
Scary, huh? Tell me about it.
For anyone who's interested, I'm taking Media, Drama and English Language, which makes me sound like a tit retard up-my-own-arse mofo.
Which I am.
But to be honest, I really, really enjoy it, because it gives me chances to do things like pretend to be the plague, and show of my unreasonable knowledge of Marxism, and write essays about knitting. Yeah, I think I'm doing pretty well for myself.
I'm already pretty tired, on top of school work, I'm also doing the play, which is amazing, and getting ready to do my Speech And Drama Grade 7 exam. I'm going to perform The Raven, a monologue from Midsummer Nights Dream, and the introduction to Pirates, an Adventure with Scientists, because I'm strange.
I've finally started using the school gym...