Welcome to Leicester

Goooodafternoon, bloggers. I've been up about an hour, maybe two. Becca's comfy to sleep with.. Okay, that sounded filthier than it was supposed to. Oh well :')
Our Harry Potter Marathon turned into a Harry Potter and the Philosphers Stone watching, then sleep. LOLOL. Coss moshing takes it out of you. I now have a massive red mark on my foot from where someone stamped on it in stilletoes, and a lump on my head from where a bottle hit me. Aaaaand bruises on my back from Katie and Mollie's deathpunching. EPIC.
Anyway. Fucking gig. Last night.

Me and Becca turned up just as Canada Water had finished their set. Which was a bit of a piss take, as we spent £14 to get in. But the another band came on, I think it was Casio Kid, and it was like "YEAHFUCKINGMENTAAAAAAL!" And yeah. And everytime we went into the smokers 'room', someone (Ahem, Brad) started up a chant of "LET'S GO FUCKIN' MENTAL, LET'S GO FUCKIN' MENTAL, LALALALA, HEY! LALALALA, HEY!" Unfortunately some people took that too literally, and about 50 fights almost nearly started in the mosh pit. And then Amy Can Flyy came on, and Abi and Martha were singing along coss Mark kept putting the mike to them. They are all now BFF's. Lucky. Anyway. That was all fucking insane. And then, like, everyone was like "Oh, I can smell weed" and we could. Coss some fucker was smoking a shittonne of it. I was kinda stood there going "Mmmmn, weed." AND THEN IT WAS LIKE "OMFGCOPPERS!"
But then someone was like "SIT DOWN PROTEST!" and the last band, that didnt get to play, sat down with us, and joined in the chants of "THIS IS FUCKIN' BULLSHIT!" And they were lovely, they were.
But then the cops were like "STAND UP AND MOVE OUT, GIG'S CANCELLED!"

And it took the piss, coss me and Becca went downstairs when the coppers came upstairs telling us to leave, so we could go get our coats. THEN the coppers came downstairs, and told us to leave again. I was like 'WTFDUDE, stop following us!'. So we went back upstairs (Since that was the way we needed to go to leave) AND ONCE MORE, the cops followed us and repeat their warning that we needed to leave.

So, then, like, finally we were stood outside. And we got talking to the last band's promotional dude (Who was wearing an Amy Can Flyy badge, on his hat, bless). He'd been there since two o'clock, waiting for the last band. And he was really, really pissed off that they hadn't played. So Becca gave him a fag and he kind of like worshipped her for a little bit. Which was nice. And then we waited outside Subway for a little bit with Katie and her mummy. And Katie's mummy is nice, she is. And then they left, and mon pa picked us up.

Which leads us back to the beginning of this blog with the Harry Potter not-a-thon. So, all in all, last night was pretty fucking epic. I want a fag.

Love Letters

TODAY'S THE DAY! WHEN'S YOUR DOLMIO DAY?!
Is it not today? Nah, wasn't really for us, either. We had steak and chips. Ahaha, I just typed that 'stake and chips'. Vamps worst meal, much?

I'm very, very happy today, readers. Wannaknowwhy?WANNAKNOWWHY?! Of course you do. It's coss... Well, I would say it's coss of Moya, but she makes me happy every day. It's coss I had two lessons cancelled today. I know that sounds silly, but it means I only actually had two lessons. Which were English and Media. And since Media work's all done, we're kinda taking a break. Aaaand since it's the beginning of a new term, in English we're watching In Cold Blood. So I basically had no lessons today. ALSO, I GET AN HOURS LIE IN TOMORROW (L)(L)

Yeeees. Happy days. ALSO.
I sent Moya a letter today~ She'll recieve it at the end of the week, hopefully. ANDTHENONMONDAY she's sending me a little something. Not her mother, apparently. Nomnom. Andandand if I get a letter next Thursday/Friday that's partly from her and another part from EMILIE FUCKIN' AUTUMN, then that will've made my year. Well, it'll make my year 'till Moya comes to mother fuckin' Leicester, that is :D Oh, Summer Lovin', had me a blaaaast~

What else do I have?

tumblr- http://kittyisaloserkid.tumblr.com/
dailybooth- http://dailybooth.com/kittyisaloserkid
twitter- http://twitter.com/pxrple_princess
formspring- http://www.formspring.me/pxrpleprincess
fanfic- http://www.fanfiction.net/~kittyisaloserkid

and finally
storyblog- http://youtookthefuture.blogspot.com

In which: Suicide and Leeches

I really, really, really, really want EA's book. Goddamnit, I need a job. Instead I'm stuck with no job, and no qualifications as of yet apart from GCSE's. I should be getting a job soon, though. At the Tiger's ground. I'll be the envy of my step-grandfather and my father. Buahahahahaha! Anyway. That's not what I was coming to post for. Although gloating is fun.

In my last blog (I originally typed that 'lost blag') I told you all I'd actually begin to show some insight. And I will. Fuck, my head's swimmy. This, boys and girls, is why you should drink frequently throughout hot days. Coss you feel like feinting. Anyway. Fuck sake. I keep going off on a tangent. I even do that in my stories. I like to write this as if I'm actually speaking it. And if you imagine me reading this in my voice, you'll probably punch the computer screen. I sound all posh and husky. And very, very English.

Anyway. EA was in Kerrang this week. I missed it. This upset me greatly. I actually feel a bit like crying. Emilie is literally my heroine. Not as in the drug kind, as in the female hero kind. She's dealt with so much, but she's still alive. She's one of the most successful people ever. So what if she's not famous? Really? Is fame all there is today? Is getting your face in the paper (Even something shitty like the Metro) all that people care about? It disgusts me. You ask any muffin why they like Emilie, and they will tell you it's because she's the same as them. Sure, her caberet show is insane (and breath-taking, and amazing, and we won't go into that), sure she has the most amazing voice ever, and sure her musical prowess is heart-wrenching. But at the end of it all, she's just like every other muffin.

(Warning for SHers: May be some triggers)
Every other muffin whom has struggled with voices whispering to pick up the knife. Every other muffin who knows what it's like to feel the rush as a blade is pushed through their skin. Every other muffin whom has written a suicide note. Every other muffin who is just that little bit "abnormal".

Emilie isn't famous, not exactly. But she isn't a pretentious, idiotic, 'look at me I'm on a pedastal' singer/performer that seems to be the norm today. This was going to be an article about my own suffering. But for now. Let's just raise our tea-cups in unison for the one, the only; Emilie Autumn!

Two posts in as many days?!

I haven't even done anything today. Well, I have been sat by my window (When I haven't been texting a Belgian or surfing the net), yelling out "FREE SEX!" to passers by. It's funny to watch people crap themselves when they don't know where the noise came from :')

I suppose, sooner or later, my thoughts will actually be able to be put into this blog. Instead of me being such a shallow little fuck. I don't actually always think like this. Trust me. I do most of the time I'm online, which is why my blogs always seem... shit. So yeah. I'm kinda dying from a death of coughing right now.

I'm also feeling incredibly sorry for a friend of mine. She's being used. And she knows it. But there's not much she can do about it. She'll have to suffer in silence. But she should know, she can always text me. I promise.

[CREDIT EXPERT PLAYS THE HARPSICORD!]

I think, for my next blog, I will let you all get a little insight into my mind. Yes, that is what I will do. I will talk about something worth talking about, and maybe this blog will get somewhere.

The Asylum Chat Bot

"And that's what killed Richard." Fuck off, advert. Stupid advert. Don't try and depress me, I'm far too happy. MoyaMoyaMoyaMoyaMoya :D

Anyway. Hello, my lovelies. I told you this was gonna be about Valentine's Day! Well, it was only half an hour ago. I've had quite a good 'un, actually. I didn't get out of bed 'till about two o'clock. Last night I was so out of my face that it's all dream worldy when I think back about it. Did you know how amazing gigs are when you're fucked? You just want to love everything. And the music goes boomboomboom through your bones. It's like you're hugging the speakers. Like, really, it's so amazing. I came down whilst I was with my father and his girlfriend at a meal; which was well timed. Because whenever I felt bad I just said "I need to pee". And since I drank a lot I was fine. But srsly. I love "flying". I love loving everything. And I love forgetting everything aswell. It's amazing. Yes. Fuck health warnings, it truly is amazing.

Valentine's Day is over. But Love is forever :D

"This is my wanking hand"

I've had barely a moment to myself these past few days. And I will be so glad when next term gives me a weeks rest next week. Don't get me wrong, I adore college most of the time- But all my deadlines are coming up, and no matter how prepared I am, I always panic when deadlines come about. Although, to be fair, my music video deadline is Friday... And I still have some filming to do tomorrow. Wankyfuckshit. Yes. On the plus side, there's a girl I'm talking to online who is helping me forget about everything. We're just talking about what comes into our heads. It's great. I love people like this. People that you can be yourself with, and they don't ask any questions. Hmmm...
Coming up in my next post: Something predictably about Valentine's Day! Yay!

Wait, what's French for "Gremlin"?

You silly, silly thing. Miss Emilie Sylvia Stammers. Otherwise known as "that crazy French blonde chick". But you were an amazing crazy French blonde chick. You used to make me laugh, especially when we walked through the streets of Leicester singing Dead Dog In Black Bag. Uncle Kevin was an accountant, everything in it's place, in a straight line! I will never have memories like these with anyone else. Purely because there will never be another you. I keep talking about you in present tense, because it still hasn't sunk in. I keep starting to cry, then I stop to check my phone. I'm waiting for you to ring me. I'm waiting for you to reply to the text that I sent you this morning. I'm waiting for some sign that all of this is just a nightmare. I would give anything to hear you singing that creepy French song you used to sing about Zombies- the song you sung especially to creep me out. I'd give up everything to have you bring me pocky and Mountain Dew in a CyberCandy bag. If all my tears could show you running up to me in retina frying tights, I'd cry an ocean for you. This isn't real. It can't be real. Do you have any idea how much I love you? I will always, always love you. And I will never, never forget you. That to you I promise; And you know I never break my promises.

I lost my best friend 04.02.2010
Rest In Peace, darling.