LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Tag: Placebo (Page 2 of 4)

Moving House

Alternative title: We have the keys! I repeat – WE HAVE THE KEYS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE! 

We also have no internet … I know right?! How archaic! So in the meantime I’m snaffling my parents internet under the pretense of needing to put 31 years worth of shit (not literal shit obviously) into cardboard boxes. Quite frankly it would be a faster process if I didn’t feel the need to read random pages of books I haven’t seen since 1993 that had been hidden away in the backs of various shelving units. I fear I own a library’s worth of literature that I now need to cart about.

I may also have had a moment (or two) in which I started hugging my Molecular Cell Biology book and crying about what might have been if I’d carried on in academia.

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Pole Update – Doubles

Alternative title: The only thing more terrifying than me putting my faith in my thighs to stop me flying down a pole and cracking my chin off my arse (because I’m sure that’s what happens when you manage to concertina your body) is putting my faith in my thighs to stop me flying down a pole and cracking my arse off my Pole partner’s chin (and subsequently managing to concertina both bodies in a random smush of H&M sportswear and Nike short-shorts). 

In the words of Placebo* (any excuse for a Brian moment): “someone call the ambulance, there’s gonna be an accident!”

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Where is my mind?

Alternative title: It’s probably farting about in a field somewhere pretending it is The Incredible Sulk or something … 

I’m back at my PWP’s office and she’s shaking her head at my latest assessment scores, concern etched into her features, both my Anxiety and Depression levels appear to have doubled since our last meeting (I didn’t need a piece of paper to tell me that). I watch a bobble on the carpet, I focus on it, as though it’d disappear under my glare if I stared intently enough …

“What happened?” She asks.

“I don’t know …” I utter, eyes still on the bobble “I genuinely don’t know”.

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The Holly and the Ivy

Alternative title: In which I challenge Danny Smith to a gravy wrestling match … As you do. Though if he’s not available I’m willing to accept Tom Hiddleston as a suitable substitute! 

I’m currently dosed up on Lemsip, surrounded by a lovely mixture of snotty tissues and folded up pieces of sellotape (I’m attempting to wrap presents without sneezing on them, after all, nobody wants a lovely flu riddled jumper for the festive season do they) … I’m also wailing along to “The City Drive* – Defeated” in a decidedly croaky voice while totally convinced that I have the voice of an angel and will waltz my way to the next X-Factor final and beyond!

Isn’t that right Simon? Whaddya mean no? Cheryl?! Ooook, is that a maybe? … Right, who are the other two on there now? …

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