Posted: January 27, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Join me as we plumb the depths of my hard drive for some moments where it was just easier or faster (usually the former) to point my phone at something and click.

I recently re-discovered this wonderful, wonderful t-shirt Joji gave on his trip to Akita just before I left. “Where’s cats? meet in france”

I have totally been wearing this all day.

「ラギッドな男の作法」 “The Rugged Man’s Etiquette”

For anyone who received an Akita City Board of Education review circa 2008: I cannot believe a) that this exists, or b) that I found it in Glasgow. To clarify: our end-of-year BoE reviews in my first year ranked us on the most hilariously arbitrary and poorly translated criteria, the unanimous favourite being our “ruggedness”. For what it’s worth, I failed while Rheanna passed with flying colours.

After accusing John of arranging our produce in a deliberately phallic manner, I awoke to find this in the kitchen. Touché, Millar.

Thank you for the cheesecake, Dominos – I’m sure my Barbies will love it.

Never was there a more appropriate representation of a MAC girl.

omg, I went through the same thing!

John was judging me for eating icing straight from the bowl so I had to seek out alternative serving suggestions. So was born…the icing apple! I am disgusting.

I thought I’d spotted Janet Devlin in a Zara display, only she had way less personality. Janet that is.

Yes, the reference is painfully dated already. Although, speaking of the X Factor: Hamilton Stansfield – the tantrum-prone hairstylist who freaked out at Ocean on Dirty Sexy Things for loosening her ponytail – actually retweeted my abuse of Sami Brookes during the run of the show. The tweet in question: “My brother just commented that Sami Brookes looks like she ate Xena.”

I hadn’t planned on spending my day off at home, alone, in tears…whiiiich is probably why I shouldn’t have picked that one day to finally watch Milk. A pick-me-up was on hand, however: Chocolat…avec chocolat! (Courtesy of John and Thorntons.) The picture above is, incidentally, the same one that ruined the reveal of my new, post-blonde haircut prior to me posting an actual photo of it. Clearly I should have broken out the old ANTM pre-makeover-reveal-headwrap trick:

Fiieeerrrce, child!

Sometimes when I can’t see Wilfred’s ears, I literally can’t orientate his head. He, by the way…

…has taken to sleeping on my ass. (Picture courtesy of John.)

More recently, he’s migrated to using me as an armrest, leading to 98% more feeling in my limbs when I wake up in the morning.

I got all the way home before realising I’d written my to-do list on the back of Chunk from The Goonies. Awkward.

I refuse to believe this font choice was an accident.

My own cheapness exemplifying why I’d hate to have a birthday in December.

Wilfred is having an identity crisis. (Meersian!) His newfound bidepalism comes, I’m sure, from his increasingly legendary tail. At present, it’s the same width as his body.

Exhibit A:

And lastly: did you know that you can freeze bananas, blend them and make 100% banana ice cream? (Thank you, OMG Facts!)

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