If you wanna be bad you gotta be good

I would just like to point out that Bryan Adams is perfection and Keith Scott is made of awesome. That is all.

Told you I'm not a nice person

It's amazing that when I go all fangirlish and start researching the shit out of some completely random fandom (teehee) stuff and I find youtube channels and tumblrs and whatnot that make me go 'whoa dude I think you need help' and I'm sure that there are people who feel the same way when I open up about these things but there has to be a fucking line somewhere and maybe making glittery collage videos of an actor and uploading new ones every week or so for seven fucking years is just a touch over that line.*

Of course who am I to judge (a judgmental bitch, that's who, don't look at me like that, you do it too).

*Note that if it involves truly creative work then I won't even bat an eyelash, though glittery collages of actors may be art and I just suck at life.

Also it has come to my attention that English - while a magnificent language what with being lingua franca and all that - does not allow me to swear ar eloquently as I know I can in my mother tongue. Hence the repeating  fraks.

Don't look now

I love L.A. & Coffee, black = my new OTP

On the bright side

Being hit on by the cute cashier whilst buying tampons is a major win.
..or deeply disturbing, but I prefer to look on the bright side.


In other news, some guys are just too damn hot to be accidentally gazed at, you know, the ones that have a faces I'd like to see between my legs.

Road to Nowhere

That moment when you finally leave your room and there are people there, outside, in the world, and not all of them are fuckwits. That moment when you meet new people and they are actually interesting and fun to be around.

That moment when you talk about something mundane and you connect and hope for the love of all that's holy that you won't fuck it up this time, because you really could use someone who just gets it.

Free

It's so weird, seeing the name of my illness on an official paper. I've always known something was wrong with me, people in my life acknowledged it even, supported my every move to fight it and comforted me when I couldn't, and still. It did not feel real somehow, probably because depression is not something that is socially accepted as an illness - not yet anyway.

So having it there, on a paper, official and whatnot, it's suddenly so real and in a way amazingly freeing.

Revelations of the unpleasant kind

So two things are suddenly clear to me:
1.) With all the accidental flashing I do I actually am the Ugly Naked Gal of my building
2.) Even though I make fun of my boyfriend's internet giggle I actually have a much louder and much, much more annoying one

I honestly don't know how I feel about these things.

I'm just saying

I'm so not a nice person.

Of intellectual literary metal bands

I decided that my new goal in life shall be the forming of the literary-intellectual-metal band called The Restless Tadpoles and the title of our first album will be Lo, the flat hills of my Homeland. The fact that I cannot sing or play any musical instrument will not stop me. My stage name will be either Pandora or Stick Insect, the jury is still out on that one, though I find that I'm slightly leaning towards the latter, I don't know why.

The one with the reminiscing

Around 2006, when myspace was still a thing I wrote a message to Keith Scott after a Budapest show. In case you don't know, he plays lead-guitar for Bryan Adams, and frankly half of the ladies in love with BA have the hots for him too. My message was short, polite, contained a few typos and basically thanked him for the show and that was that. I almost pissed my pants when he answered. We exchanged a few messages, discussed the beauties of Budapest and other nonsense. That was the time when I decided that loving the music is only one half of the experience, getting to have a glimpse of the people making it is the other - and if they are nice and human and polite, well, then I'll love them forever.