Felidae likes she have about every fetish going. Wrap her up in a big eyed hentai character parcel and tentacle me.
I’m private
PICS
Ive been an online journaller for some time. Some time loosely translated as four years. When I was in my tweens I had an actual, physical, IRL journal which I adored and wrote of my crushes on cartoon characters in; I let my friends write in it too, and it became something I treasured. I still have it hidden deep in a drawer somewhere.
It annoys me then that I have failed so monumentally at actually keeping up entries on my SuicideGirl page, especially considering I looked forward to doing so.
I lay the blame portioned equally at the feet of my workplace (seven day weeks), university (end of year projects) and writers block (JESUS CHRIST I HAVE ESSAYS THAT NEED TO BE IN and Im going to the pub instead).
I hope that with the advent of my having been typing for around four hours solid this evening (for various causes) my writers block has, at last, found an end. Especially since it looks like Im going to the Download festival courtesy of Ashas invite and Ill need to document those shenanigans in detail. Ive never camped overnight at a festival before so this is going to be all new to me, but Im making notes to myself such as that braiding my hair is probably the best option since hair straighteners are likely going unprovided for. I hate to actually utilise the rock gesture, but frankly, given how unutterably cool the Download weekend is liable to be I think it may be justified.
Incidentally, though my car is again roadworthy (FINALLY) it looks like Ill be driving there with Asha, Brogan and Kit. A whole car full of ROCK and people who will never want to speak to each other again by the time we get there.
Fun Felidae Fact: I plan on hoisting my SuicideGirl panties as a flag so I can find my way back to the base-camp.
It annoys me then that I have failed so monumentally at actually keeping up entries on my SuicideGirl page, especially considering I looked forward to doing so.
I lay the blame portioned equally at the feet of my workplace (seven day weeks), university (end of year projects) and writers block (JESUS CHRIST I HAVE ESSAYS THAT NEED TO BE IN and Im going to the pub instead).
I hope that with the advent of my having been typing for around four hours solid this evening (for various causes) my writers block has, at last, found an end. Especially since it looks like Im going to the Download festival courtesy of Ashas invite and Ill need to document those shenanigans in detail. Ive never camped overnight at a festival before so this is going to be all new to me, but Im making notes to myself such as that braiding my hair is probably the best option since hair straighteners are likely going unprovided for. I hate to actually utilise the rock gesture, but frankly, given how unutterably cool the Download weekend is liable to be I think it may be justified.
Incidentally, though my car is again roadworthy (FINALLY) it looks like Ill be driving there with Asha, Brogan and Kit. A whole car full of ROCK and people who will never want to speak to each other again by the time we get there.
Fun Felidae Fact: I plan on hoisting my SuicideGirl panties as a flag so I can find my way back to the base-camp.
To anyone whos been wondering, yes, I get my ass online rather more than the quantity of my journal entries might suggest. However most times Ive been online during the past three weeks its post work and thus Im totally incapable of anything more taxing than sprawling on a heap of cushions with something tall and frosty to keep me company.
This week has been no different. Like last week I worked six nights out of seven, and was in university four days to get as much of my forthcoming end of year projects finished as possible. Oh, wait, I lied. Last week I was in work FIVE nights because I put my steel-toed size five Bunker down hard and DEMANDED to have Friday night off. I got it.
Tonight? Not so lucky.
But this is all about last weekend. Last weekend I went to Implant with a basketful of gorgeous cybergoth friends. I didnt intentionally go with a basketful of friends, but ran into them while sauntering aimlessly about the Canal Street area of Manchester. Together we sauntered some more, and eventually discovered Implant being held in Legends, which is twinned rather charmingly with a gay leathermens club. Legends itself is oft home to gay leathermen too; or at least I imagine it to be, given the amount of chap-bedecked-buff-muscled-moustache posters that littered the walls. It could be some sort of horrible coincidence, but I doubt it. While there I ran into yet more cybergoth acquaintances, including Anima and the ever-gorgeous Asha, and later in the evening both Asha, a friend of mine and I were approached to dance at Replicate! A delicious night, followed by Saturday, which was also rather tasty. Saturday was spent at Sin City, and lo, it was good. I danced and twirled a tad, met up with Anima again, had a friend graphically demonstrate the staining qualities of lipstain, and generally had much fun.
This weekend the best thing to happen will most likely be going to Rockworld tomorrow night and telling my stalker to leave me the hell alone. Again.
Fun Felidae Fact: Gay men in chaps think I'm pretty, and take pictures of me. I think this is possibly my superpower.
This week has been no different. Like last week I worked six nights out of seven, and was in university four days to get as much of my forthcoming end of year projects finished as possible. Oh, wait, I lied. Last week I was in work FIVE nights because I put my steel-toed size five Bunker down hard and DEMANDED to have Friday night off. I got it.
Tonight? Not so lucky.
But this is all about last weekend. Last weekend I went to Implant with a basketful of gorgeous cybergoth friends. I didnt intentionally go with a basketful of friends, but ran into them while sauntering aimlessly about the Canal Street area of Manchester. Together we sauntered some more, and eventually discovered Implant being held in Legends, which is twinned rather charmingly with a gay leathermens club. Legends itself is oft home to gay leathermen too; or at least I imagine it to be, given the amount of chap-bedecked-buff-muscled-moustache posters that littered the walls. It could be some sort of horrible coincidence, but I doubt it. While there I ran into yet more cybergoth acquaintances, including Anima and the ever-gorgeous Asha, and later in the evening both Asha, a friend of mine and I were approached to dance at Replicate! A delicious night, followed by Saturday, which was also rather tasty. Saturday was spent at Sin City, and lo, it was good. I danced and twirled a tad, met up with Anima again, had a friend graphically demonstrate the staining qualities of lipstain, and generally had much fun.
This weekend the best thing to happen will most likely be going to Rockworld tomorrow night and telling my stalker to leave me the hell alone. Again.
Fun Felidae Fact: Gay men in chaps think I'm pretty, and take pictures of me. I think this is possibly my superpower.
So I finally did it. I chose my favourite SuicideGirls.
Actually Id chosen my personal SuicideGirls several times already, based on a) The first five girls to call me gorgeous, b) The fellow British SuicideGirls who I speak to via the UKSG board, and c) The girls whose pants I most want to get into. Eventually I went with a combination of all three, but it was a REALLY tough choice, because what they dont tell the regular members is that we who are Suicide get free quarterly meets with our Favourites. Were issued with pillows (for the fighting), white t-shirts (for the wetting), various sweet spreadable substances (for the uh spreading), and a camera with which we record our antics. We each take home a tape of the results at the end of the day to add to our personal Library Of Sweet Suicide Memories. DVDs cost extra. So you can see why we have such a time picking our Favourites.
A couple of my Favourites (coincidentally or otherwise who knows?) will hopefully be present at the (non pillow-providing) meet at the end of this month, which has been publicised on the SGUK board. Im looking forward to it enough that Im actually fidgeting as to what Ill wear some three weeks in advance. Truly pathetic. Ill be bringing myself and my photographer (also my best friend), both for legitimate reasons and moral support.
Ill be bringing said friend along for similar reasons when I manage to schedule time for the latest class Ive located and decided to take: pole dancing! I love to incorporate bars and pillars etc. when I dance, but I know my limits, and they are definitely beyond reached when some halfway to the ceiling, dangling by my knees from a pole.
Maybe if youre lucky Ill take pictures in class?
Or then again maybe the world doesnt need more pictures of women landing on their faces.
Fun Felidae Fact: I'm torn between my slutty-schoolgirl, evil-domme and oversize-pants-wearing-cybergirl persona for tomorrow night. I wear all so well.
Wednesday night I drove over to a friends house, armed with a load of coloured paper, a pair of scissors and some glue. As she is a primary school teacher and I am an art student, between us we do a lot of cutting and pasting, so thought wed combine forces over a frosty beverage. However, what with both of us having the attention span of squirrels, the cutnpaste evening soon degenerated into a glue fight which ended only when one of her cats started doing laps of the house, terrified, with three feet of ribbon stuck to its ear.
So, at approximately one in the morning I bid the friend goodnight and sashayed back out to my car which wouldnt start.
I could open the car, get into the car, turn on the radio and fire the ignition, but ultimately all this produced was a great deal of creative cursing on the part of yours truly. Apparently the immobiliser refuses to be turned off. Great. After two mechanics and a great deal of phoning around it turns out that said immobiliser can only be fiddled with via a registered dealer, who will charge me untold millions to repair it. Even more great. And just to rub it in, all the immobiliser parts have to be ordered from France, and will take two weeks to arrive just because theyre FRENCH!
BAH!
In response to all this I went for a four mile run, leapt into a scaldingly hot shower, and have decided to go out into Manchester this evening. By train.
Fun Felidae Fact: I despise public transport, and all who sail upon her.
So, at approximately one in the morning I bid the friend goodnight and sashayed back out to my car which wouldnt start.
I could open the car, get into the car, turn on the radio and fire the ignition, but ultimately all this produced was a great deal of creative cursing on the part of yours truly. Apparently the immobiliser refuses to be turned off. Great. After two mechanics and a great deal of phoning around it turns out that said immobiliser can only be fiddled with via a registered dealer, who will charge me untold millions to repair it. Even more great. And just to rub it in, all the immobiliser parts have to be ordered from France, and will take two weeks to arrive just because theyre FRENCH!
BAH!
In response to all this I went for a four mile run, leapt into a scaldingly hot shower, and have decided to go out into Manchester this evening. By train.
Fun Felidae Fact: I despise public transport, and all who sail upon her.
Saturday night I went out into Manchester, and after a foray down Canal Street (naming a street I frequent isnt giving an accurate indication of where I am, believe me, this street is the gay village thoroughfare and as such has approximately 20904324389430 bars, any of which I could be found in) I decided to go dance in a nearby punk/goth/metal/alternative venue. Much fun was had by all, especially yours truly, for the following reasons:
1) A couple of acquaintances now know I made SuicideGirls, and they skipped in small circles and looked very sweet (and excessively spankable) while doing so.
2) I had free drinks all night via the wondrous barstaff whom I know all too well, and both bouncers and coat-checking persons were gleeful at seeing my glossy hide once more.
3) I was recognised by a guy in a SuicideGirls shirt.
This last made me blink, firstly because I was being given kudos before I even deserve it (no set, no glory), and secondly because it made me realise that yes, people ARE going to recognise me and these people WILL see me nude.
Ah well. Least there will be some record of my breasts at their pinnacle so I can look back when Im 50 and say, I remember when they didnt tuck into my pants...
Fun Felidae Fact: I have nightmares about my friends gaining offspring. I used to have nightmares about my friends being eaten, but now I think its one and the same.
1) A couple of acquaintances now know I made SuicideGirls, and they skipped in small circles and looked very sweet (and excessively spankable) while doing so.
2) I had free drinks all night via the wondrous barstaff whom I know all too well, and both bouncers and coat-checking persons were gleeful at seeing my glossy hide once more.
3) I was recognised by a guy in a SuicideGirls shirt.
This last made me blink, firstly because I was being given kudos before I even deserve it (no set, no glory), and secondly because it made me realise that yes, people ARE going to recognise me and these people WILL see me nude.
Ah well. Least there will be some record of my breasts at their pinnacle so I can look back when Im 50 and say, I remember when they didnt tuck into my pants...
Fun Felidae Fact: I have nightmares about my friends gaining offspring. I used to have nightmares about my friends being eaten, but now I think its one and the same.
Im still not quite over the unutterable awesomeness that is being a SuicideGirl, despite my set not yet being live. I feel a little bit like Wonder Woman in mid spin clothes flying off, transforming into a super-heroine
but not quite one yet.
The reaction to my going pink has been fantastic, and special licks go to Asha (who was first to comment), and Anima (who was first to send me e-licks). Other licks are lavished upon the delectable forms of Nixxx, Vixen, Nicky, Cherry, Nadine, Kiscica, and fellow pink ladies Lydia and Wren. Not that I really need any excuse to lavish attention on what litters these grounds
Fun Felidae Fact: In the same way some people are scared of clowns, Im scared of Cameron Diaz.
The reaction to my going pink has been fantastic, and special licks go to Asha (who was first to comment), and Anima (who was first to send me e-licks). Other licks are lavished upon the delectable forms of Nixxx, Vixen, Nicky, Cherry, Nadine, Kiscica, and fellow pink ladies Lydia and Wren. Not that I really need any excuse to lavish attention on what litters these grounds
Fun Felidae Fact: In the same way some people are scared of clowns, Im scared of Cameron Diaz.
After long hours of thinking that Id just be received with a flat Er, no. Thanks, but no. from Missy et al
Im a SuicideGirl! This induced great glee in yours truly, and with even more glee by my best friend and her gay housemates. In fact there was a good few hours-worth of squealing and running in circles from all parties.
Does it seem odd to me that those I hold dear are going to see me in various stages of nudity? A little.
Do I enjoy that oddity? Yes.
Then I have no problem with it. You, evidently, dont have a problem with it either, else you wouldnt be reading this.
Print me off and lick me.
Does it seem odd to me that those I hold dear are going to see me in various stages of nudity? A little.
Do I enjoy that oddity? Yes.
Then I have no problem with it. You, evidently, dont have a problem with it either, else you wouldnt be reading this.
Print me off and lick me.
