About high time I peel this T-shirt off myself before it pickles into a permanent layer… I’ve worn it non-stop for about a week now and I’m running out of dry-shampoo to spray under my armpits. So if you so ask nicely I could demonstrate a few more ways to wear it. For example, I find that the t-shirt goes handsomely with duvet, fluffier the better – but any tog will do. As for kicks – yes do kick your husband/bf/dog/cat to go turn off the pesky alarm. Alternatively, pair the t-shirt with a smear of pizza sauce on the sleeves for a nod to the DIY trend. I ain’t kidding though, it’s super cliche, but when you’re that someone who own attention-deprived chesticulars it’s also super fun to wear it out and see people trying to open your blazer a little wider to read the rest of your t-shirt. It excite mes because that’s the most intimacy I get, like ever. I think I’ve just said ‘super’ enough times that it doesn’t register as word in my brain anymore. Super, Suuper, Souper, Sooper, Supre, suoupre…
Also doods, Uniqlooks is holding a style contest involving UT – simply photograph an outfit with your favourite UT and upload into Uniqlooks for a chance to win an amount that I can only describe as ker-ching! SUPER FUN, innit? Enter here.
Giveaways are a bit of a pet peeve but I like to hold one or two every year with a company/brand I really think my you might like, so meet Boticca! Otherwise I tell my doctor about it and he says I have to carry one of those syringes in my sock in case another “Do you want to hold a giveaway in your blog” email lands in my inbox and I die of anaphylactic shock. Or a purplep-ish rash… due to acute-annoyance. It’s not because I don’t want to chuck free stuff at you, I just feel like I’m asking for your souls to collect on a clipboard I’d rather be giving something nice while I’m at it. Plus, it kinda cheapens the blog and you know my blog is, like, soo expensive.
Oh how I love Christmas! Mariah (and lately Justin Bieber, the horror) constantly wanting only me from speakers of the randomest of places (butcher’s down the road, WHY); the smart-ass, seemingly-omniscient gift guides of the interwebs; twelve days of Christmas and one very bankrupt and exhausted true love; the visible struggle for the shops to make a watered down version of the season’s products (i.e very well-dressed snowmen decorations and elaborate snowflakes) that hopefully appeal to those that don’t necessarily, by religion or whatnot, celebrate the day but would still like to participate in the buzz…. But most of all, the ‘christ’-lessness of ‘Christ’mas, and a whole month of cringing at the fact that it’s less and less that and more and more ‘x’ of Xmas, probably x = the unknown? To be very frank, I always find myself distressed by the noise around Christmas – this of course will serve as the primary reason to the fact that my children will be the scoundrels who will break the Santa secret to all his classmates on the eve, making the night truly sleepless but for entirely different reasons. And I will die of chronic cynicism, on Christmas day, surely.
Babbling aside, this year I was most drawn to Malachi chapter 4, the final book and chapter of the Old Testament which dates 300 years before the birth of Christ, but in all its might leaves a big arrow towards the coming of Jesus. (Yes Christmas is defacto a pagan tradition and Jesus was really born closer to March but if we’re plastering babies & mangers over our cards and we’ve allocated ONE time during the year to remember His birth then might as well do it properly)