oh, dear.

it has become apparent to me that i am really not very good at blogging.

when i say this, i don't mean i am bad at keeping up to date, i mean i physically cannot actually write. i cannot write well. it's a disability. and yet i keep a blog? it's sort of like somebody with no legs becoming an olympic runner. OH MY GOD ALEX, NO IT ISN'T!! What the hell is WRONG with me?? it is NOTHING like that, because for starters, there would be preconcieved problems before he even "became" a runner, thus preventing this from actually happening in the first place! i mean i'm not very good at blogging but it's not as if i physically.... do you know what i am good at?? mindless, senseless rambling. i'm fucking amazing at it. i could do it for hours.

so, i am "better" now. the reason i squidge this word between quotation marks is because.. well... it's quite a massive lie. i'm in denial. except i'm aware of my denial, so perhaps this renders it redundant?? i'm not sure, anyway, i'm at the point where i can just about manage to stifle my cough to convince my mum that i am "99.9 percent better!! i swear!!" and then my eyes start watering so i pretend that i'm thinking about that poignant episode of Fraiser where Niles gets a heart transplant! oh my god, when Daphne smashes the vending machine!!!!!!!!!!!

it concerns me that this made my cry, whereas i came out of My Sister's Keeper not wet-eyed because of the innocent girl's battle with cancer, but extremely disgruntled (word of the week?) that £5 of my money had been taken from me in order to sit me in front of what i can only describe as a battle of dramatic monologues interspersed with cameron diaz acting like an ugg-boot-clad psycho. i distinctly remember she was wearing this particular type of footwear because her legs are extraordinarily skinny and the fatness of the ugg boot only accentuated this. whatever. i wanted to see the Hangover.

i cannot watch "girlie" movies.

...actually, what a collosal fib, i adore Mean Girls!
Lindsay Lohan when she still had a bit of meat on her bones and wasn't going out with Mark Ronson's sister.

there's something really perverted about that sentance... but i'm having trouble deciphering where the pervertedness is most prominent... perhaps the phrase "meat on her bones"? this seems slightly innapropriate when describing a sought-after Hollywood...... nothing. she is actually nothing. in the words of John Green, do not make Lindsay Lohan your silver-backed gorilla.

"is butter a carb?"