Don't judge a book by it's cover

When I was at school, I had a friend, for the purpose of this story I shall call her Sarah (the addiction to comma's is still there, as I am sure you can tell by my flagrant disregard for the proper rules of grammar as shown in these three-ish lines..that's another thing, why is it that when I'm writing stuff here, it comes out as more/less lines than when it gets posted? Makes me look super dumb!)


Anywho, Sarah (who by the way, is desi) was one of the best friends I ever had.


Let me explain something, desi girls (whilst at this young stage) have this thing about being book smart etc.. and any girl who doesn't show an interest in books is seen to be a slag/slut/whore who will amount to nothing.


Now Sarah never paid much attention at school, she was too interested in talking about fashion and boys. Despite this, Sarah still got top grades, even though the swotty desi girls in my year didn't like her (one girl, whose mother my mother absolutely loved despised her).


I was an ugly duckling whilst I was at school (come to think of it, I am still waiting for the swan emergence people!) and she was a great friend to me...now many people think that a girl that interested in makeup and boys would pay me no mind but she was a fucking excellent friend.


The aforementioned mother of a friend saw me out with Sarah once and reported it at once to my mother, as if it was a crime to have a mate who didn't pay attention at school.

Anywho, Sarah ran away from school with another girl with whom she was very good mates. Numerous stories went around about what happened and the aforementioned mate (the one mi madre knew) told my mum how Sarah was always out smoking and chatting up the boys. Stupid cow. Thankfully, my mother isn't an idiot and she didn't believe it.

Sarah came back after a week and all was well.

We got our GCSE results and Sarah went to college.

I never saw her or heard from her again.

I made new friends in sixth form and they were "perfect" desi girls, no smoking, no drinking..jus work..proper wholesome girls.

We had a falling out (which I maintain to this day was not my fault and individual adjudicators will agree..I've asked them).

I left school in 2000, so I hadn't heard from Sarah in 7 years.

I decided to open a Facebook account and get in touch with people from school.

Sarah was on Facebook.

She has totally not changed AT ALL, she is still the same warm and loving person that she was in school, we have agreed to meet up and I can't fucking wait.

It is funny how the girls who look uberly bitchy are always the nicest ones underneath, and the ones who look nice are the ones who stab you in the back for no reason.

Imagine

if you only had one bumcheek

i.e. that was the standard issue, nobody had two..it was one huge cheek going from one side of your hips to the other.

This has been the office discussion this morning.

I think one would be great, simply because there would be no need for thongs, unless you wanted to wear it on the side so it would be on your hip/leg.

But, would it be as comfy as having two? Two are great because they share the burden of your body, would one be up to the job?

It is currently being debated, along with a mixture of human rights issues, medical law and Ogden Tables (that's one for you actuaries out there).

The result shall be recorded in due time.

Cardio/Hate

I am restarting cardio today and not stopping until Xmas.

Is that 8 weeks?

It's not, is it?

Rolf, my maths is that shit.

Anyway, got me a pair of graduation trousers so I can get pissed in style.

Also, today is the last day for my discount haircut but I shall try and book it in for next week.

I should also start my three stage skincare routine again.

Now to the matter at hand.

Could you hate someone who wasn't there for you? Even though that person had NO WAY of knowing what was going on? This is what happened to me and I don't understand it as the person who stopped talking to me was just the middleman.

Oh well, shall have to discuss it a bit avec mes mate and see what he says.

Musings

I don't really have much to talk about today, in fact, I am only writing this because I am uber bored at home.

I read some bits of my blog the other day and realised that I sound like I am full of hate and that I am exactly what I hate people being (full of themselves). If you choose to think this, this is your own choice but I shant change. I should go on a bit here about how rich I am and how many cars I have, but I shant (for I have no monies and I ride the bus..har har).

Also, to one ardent reader of my blog I would like to say whassup gangstuh? Yeah, you know who you are bruvizzle.

Er..yeah, back to my redeeming qualities, I am fucking great..the ardent reader of the blog mentioned above will vouch for that, as will many other people. I need to get shit off my chest and this just happens to be where it gets off there, plus it is easier to write stuff out than it is to explain stuff on a TGI Friday's napkin with your mates "borrowed" pen.

This is all.

The Game

So, you don't fancy playing it today?

I know why, for once I am looking on point.

Here's my personal list:

Shoes: £385
Trousers: £78
Belt: £46
Shirt: £50
Coat: £720

Haha, thank you very much Mr "my suit cost £300". Today I don't care, don't ask tomorrow though.

And we aren't including pants.

Just so you know, I can pull out the stops too..it happens in the winter only, mind.