Lesson 1 of 5789 in 'being kind of lame at life'

I haven't written anything for an inordinately long time but having archived all my old blog posts with the idea of finally ridding myself of the shackles of myspace* and having read through all those aforementioned old blog posts (and maybe doing a little tidying up of grammar, spelling, general rubbishness - making me somewhat of a Winston Smith figure but less oppressed and more nerdy) I've realised that maybe this is something I don't completely suck at so maybe, just maybe, I should start writing again. So I set up this sparkly, shiny, happy, brand new blog address and tried to write things about my day. My new days where I'm no longer in Guildford, no longer an undergrad, and no longer getting stoned and-slash-or drunk every evening. And I tried to write. And then I walked away from the computer. And then I came back to the computer and looked through lots of facebook groups. Then I joined some of those groups. Then I felt a little sick with myself that I was using facebook groups to define my identity (and similarly judging others on the groups they had chosen to join). Then I tried writing again. Then I gave up and forgot all about it for weeks (until now you lucky lucky people).

Trouble is, what to write about when you've literally done nothing for the last two months. Oh there's been the occasional trip to the cinema, perhaps the odd jaunt to a friends' (I do have them you know) (just not very many of them) house, a day trip to a theme park (when I am made Emperor of the world then rollercoaster will be my preferred method of transportation - impractical yes but I'm intending to go down the wacked-out-lunancy route of leadership), buying coral-coloured short shorts in toweling fabric to make the art of lounging all the easier and infinitely more white trashified. Well, you get the general idea. When people discuss the decline of civilisation, how the youth of today are wastrels and fat and lazy and incompetent, they're pretty much describing me. I'm the poster girl for 'being kind of lame at life'.

However, last night I did finally make it out to the pub. I'd forgotten what it is to wake up with the 'fuck, why do I have to be such a twat in public?' feeling. This is not the sort of thing that bothers a hermit. A hermit's biggest worry is 'who am I going to manipulate into going to the shops and picking me up some orange juice and cereal?' (and therein lies the reason that hermitcy is often such an attractive proposition for me, I can do the manipulation just fine. I can do the 'dealing with life' thing less fine). But still, whatever, I made it out of the house. Left the quiet comfort of the safe zone with it's toweling short shorts and Harry Potter books** and Project Runway shows. Despite the fact that too much Kronenbourg makes Sazz a little pretentious chatterbox, the fact remains that I got out into the public sphere and laughed and giggled and, more importantly, survived the whole experience intact. Go team me.

Now, having got through all that, here's some internet treats for y'all:

Watch this.

Listen to this.

Read this.

Have satirical fun with this.

Make this and this (and become as obsessed with the whole site as I am).


*Which I still haven't quite summoned up the courage to do. Yeah I know. I hate myself enough for the both of us so don't bother.

**I've literally just started reading them. I love them. It be rare that a pop culture phenomena escapes me quite so completely and for such a long amount of time (with the exception perhaps of Dan Brown's output, where I would actually rather rip my toenails off with rusty pliers than subject myself to his writings... unfair to judge without ever having read it? Ok. Yes. But I ain't changin' my mind on this one sunshine. Call it a hunch).