I love the cinema. It’s one of my most favourite places. But today, that was all ruined. *angryface*

Today, I happened to sit next to the most ignorant, irritating, intolerable person in the entire world. I literally wanted to rip this persons heart from their chest with my bare hands. I had to hold myself back from standing up and Bruce Lee style fly-kicking her in the face.

My film of choice today was Paranormal Activity 3. Because, why not? And it was actually pretty good. Despite the intense struggle it was having trying to secure a story line, and unsatisfying ending…

But that’s not the point.

The point is that the pathetic excuse for a person that was sitting next to me made me want to blow myself up.

‘OMG I bet when he opens this door something jumps out or something, OMG LOLS this film is so scary LOLS he’s opening the door LOLS LOLS he is breathing, LOLS OMG’ 

*something jumps out*

‘AGOJRHOD, OMG SOMETHING JUMPED OUT, I TOLD YOU. BAHAHAHA. HAHAHA. BAHAHAHAHAH. HAAAAAAAAR. I THINK I’VE PISSED MYSELF. BAHAHAHA’ 

FUCK OFF.

‘I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT IS HAPPENING. WHAT IS HAPPENING, MY EQUALLY RETARDED FRIEND?’

‘I THINK IT’S HAUNTED OR SOMETHING’

JUST FUCK OFF.

‘DID YOU THINK THAT WAS FUNNY? I DID, IT WAS FUNNY LOLS’

FUCK. OFF.

‘I HAVE A HEADACHE, THIS FILM IS GIVING ME A HEADACHE, OWWWWWWWWW OMG LOLS.’

GOOD. FUCK OFF.

Basically, the point is that the girl next to me was the worst human being on the planet. This happened for the entire movie. The. Entire. Movie.

(I also considered using this bastard. I think it might be the worst thing I have ever seen.)

– This has been in my drafts for 23957483 years. Figured, what the hell. –

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A couple of things worth mentioning.

Andy Biersack.

That amazing man right there, threw his water bottle into the crowd, and it hit me on the head. HRTOHDGFJBIGNBVAWEIFHREIGFLHJKBFGKHNFKGNHKFLGNHFGKLNH

The one on the floor.

I met Jason Butler. (ps letlive. are one of the best bands out there) (pps I love him)

Oh and my tiny hands are in this photo.

Enter Shikari

‘Coz I know how much the people of the interwebs are interested in my life.

I have had a bad day.

So I just watched The Human Centipede. Yeah, I know, 2 years after everyone else. Whatever. Today, I felt sufficiently fucked in the head, and made myself watch it. I figured it was a generally bad plan and I would hate it. But I liked that, and so, I watched it.

Biggest disappointment of my life. Here I am, waiting for the emotional trauma and mental scarring, and you know what? IT WAS BLOODY BORING. Why take a film that has so much opportunity to be downright horrific and leave it at borderline horrific?

WHY?

You ruined my night, writer of The Human Centipede. You’re just not fucked up enough. Sure, the concept is a bit weird. Maybe even a lot weird. But it could have been so much more weird! Not weird enough. Sadface.

Have to admit though, Dieter Laser’s performance as Dr. Heiter is preeeettty good. Really got that mad scientist thing going down. Proper psychopath mad scientist, not weirdly attractive eccentrically dressed scientist. Though you probably got that part from the whole ‘sewing people together at the ass’ thing.

HI HI.

So, the training of the centipede. Heiter’s attempt to train the creature as a dog was downright freaky. Really lets you into the psycho’s mind. Seeing more into his head would have been better, but this gave you a bit of a look. Which is good.

The ending has its perks aswell. *SPOILERS* Heiter’s death: brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Kudos to him. Being trapped forever and ever with a dead person’s ass in your face and your dead best friend attached to youuur ass: pretty sick.

Should have made more scenes like that, and less scenes like ‘oh dear, I’m pretty and American and I’m going to run around aimlessly in this house’. It seemed not enough of the movie properly played with the concept, or was gory/horrific/scarring enough.

Seriously, going back to drag your unconscious friend? You freakin’ idiot. Scenes going on foreevvverrr of really, really slow crawling? Give me a break.

Don’t get me wrong, I get the whole ‘less is more’ idea. I just prefer ‘more is more’. Basically, not satisfied, but still very much interested. Hopefully the (uncut!) sequel, in all it’s banned-from-the-UK glory, is more impressive.

It seems I raised my expectations too high and consequently watched them crash and burn. Don’t believe the hype.

Also, it rained this morning. Some water fell from a gutter onto myself and my toast, which wasn’t cool. (sadface about the toast)

Okay, so I’ve now written two posts about live music. Seemingly, even though both gigs were freakin’ awesome, I haven’t found it in me to have a proper rant about how goddamn amazing it really is. I love live music. There aren’t that many things I love, really, but this is one of them. So here’s my opportunity to demonstrate my fixation with it.

HOLY CRAP HOW GOOD ARE THE WOMBATS?

The second time I saw them, 3 days ago, was like really, really good sex. Really. I can’t even explain how brilliant they were. Wow. I fucking love those guys. I am in love with all three of them. I am in love with everything they have ever written or covered or said or done.

Go see them. If you never take heed to any other advice I hand out, take heed to this!

AMY WAS HERE.

The guy in the middle is Tord. If you recall a mention of him a while back. The Norwegian hottie. Yes, hottie. Mmz. There was this moment when he dove into the crowd and some girl tore off his shirt. It was a fine moment. *dribble*

The atmosphere in that room was ridiculous, in a brilliant, brilliant way. Never have I felt so inclined to throw myself around and sing (screech).

Okay, my second post today. Wow, I’m not very good at writing positively. And my sudden motivation has dried up and blown away. So, uhm.

*to be continued*

OH MY GOD. I hate people who think they are photographers. I’m sorry. I just hate you. Y U SO GAY?!

This is basically a continuation of my last post, hating on that old guy spending the entirety of The Subway’s set on Facebook. There are so, so many things wrong there. Ew.

Okay so, The Kooks on Monday (omfgtheywassogood) got off to a horrific start, queueing next to what I can only describe as fangirls. Like myself, but louder and squeaker. *facepalm* Really, these were the worst people I have ever encountered. Also, some guy in the queue, in a green overcoat, appeared to be ‘fixing me with the mesmer-stare’ (see below). URGH.

The Mesmer Stare In All It's Glory

Horrible image quality but the best the interweb offered me. If you haven’t seen that man before, get the hell off my page, bro.

So yeah, creeeeepy.

Things got better after that. The support were amazing, and then there was Luke Pritchard. HI HI. Amazingly amazing. And there were these amazingly Canadian guys I grew fond of in 5 seconds flat. (hi hi!) HOWEVER, the amazingly amazing amazingness was destroyed. And it was destroyed by (dun-dun-duuuuuuun) a middle-aged woman with a goddamn camera.

U R G H. Why, why, why? Watching the band through air > watching the band through camera screen. YOU COULD DO THAT AT HOME BRO. So yeah, this woman was a bloody retard. She threw her drink over my little sister, then proceeded to throw herself around while taking photographs of herself so that it looked as if she was being really ‘hip’ at a really ‘hip’ musical event with a really ‘hip’ band.

'Hip'. Oh yes, I was there.

But they weren’t even playing. And she elbowed me in the jaw.

And it was after encountering this lady person, that I realised how annoying it is when people in crowds take pictures. Every camera I saw in that room from that moment forward sent me into angry spasms. How am I meant to get my boogie on (hellyeah) when you’re waving your photographic circuit board in my face? Just fuck off.

And so, following the events at The Subways, I report that at The Kooks, I renounced the sacredness of the barrier for the glory of the mosh-pit. Despite this, I still encountered weird old people, and now was faced with the evil that is photographers in the crowd. D I E.

Whenever I see a camera now, I curl up in a ball and cry.

I am very, very, very ill. I couldn’t be more ill if I tried. I’m sneezing and everything. *achoo*

I hate being ill. It makes me angry about everything. And now, I have lost my voice. Picture this : My angry little face, turning purple. My mouth opening to spew out mild obscenities. And nothing comes out. I can’t take it anymore. I need therapy. I need a new game to tackle. Anything.

Right now, I am at school, spreading my minion germs throughout the social scum that are those at Ashington High School. Not sure why I’ve been put in front of this computer but yeah, there’s not much else going on in the interwebs. So hi.

I haven’t got much to complain about today. Everything is equally bad, evil, satan-ish and my life is generally full of the mundane and the confusing.

Something I would like to point out though, is that if you aren’t interested in a band, you do not belong on the barrier in a music venue. After spending 5 hours crushed up against a middle-aged, sweaty man, who had no apparent reason to be there. at a gig, I have become a barrier hater. He spent the whole time, on Facebook. What the hell? Aswell as Mr Sweaty, was an equally sweaty security bloke. Who, although he had the whole barrier to stand against, spent the whole time IN MAH FACE. The entire thing was sufficiently ruined. The only reason I didn’t just die there and then was the presence of a one Billy Lunn. William. Yummy.

My one and only forever, with two mongs.

So the next time I find myself in a crowd of sweaty music fans, I’m not going to bother fighting off angry goths to establish a good barrier position. It’s not worth it. It’s so damn hard to get up there, at the front. A sign of power and superiority. Only the very best find the way there. So why was I surrounded by middle-aged people on Sunday night? BAH.

Some short, fat lady wearing a crucifix was literally fighting my little sister for a spot. What’s going on, old people? What are you trying to prove? It’s all good though because she got a good elbow in the face and disappeared into the oblivion of the crowd.

I think the old people are plotting against us, fellow ‘yobs’. I fear a war is at hand. I will report back Monday night, on the state of the crowd in the o2 academy. If my one and only Luke Pritchard is being licked and stroked by middle-aged men, I will declare war. Officially. It’s just not cool.

Jeez.

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