Friday, 29 January 2010

Egyptian Hip Hop/ Is Tropical

Hello lovers, here is a little piece I wrote for Crack Magazine about Egyptian Hip Hop and Is Tropical. Enjoy!

So whenever the ‘industry’ claims to have found the next big thing, alarm bells start ringing. Yes, Egyptian Hip Hop have great hair, they also have great high-tops. Oh and the songs are quite good too, so maybe these 17-year-old scuzz-grunge-doss-wave-pop nerds justify the hype? This bunch of teenagers is certainly too cool to watch ‘Skins’, they’d watch French art-house cinema instead and it shows in their incredibly suave tunes, which range from math rock and melodic noise to, ermmm, something approximating psy trance. Once Egyptian Hip Hop have assembled the scenesters of Bristol at Start the Bus, they launch straight into an unpolished onslaught of rambling guitars, indecipherably atonal vocals, most possibly about teenage angst and girls, and last but not least, exceptionally dynamic melodies.

Even though Egyptian Hip Hop are prone to some long-winded guitar-wanking, they play a tight set brimming with their very own trademark of inventive, colourful and refreshingly chirpy freak-pop. The drummer, who is sporting the ‘it’ accessory of the season - a Guantanamo Bay style bag over the head is a machine of vigour and vitality, which shows especially on first single ‘Rad Pit’ (bless them). It’s a lush melodic gem bursting with the youthful energy of wide-eyed teenage boys, who have just discovered that twiddling the knobs on a vintage keyboard is way cooler than playing on their brother’s X-Box. ‘Rad Pitt’ is marrying a somewhat nostalgic and alluringly aloof Beach Boys vibe with a highly contemporary potpourri of electronic bleeps and syncopated off-beat drumming. More importantly, the single showcases a musical maturity that betrays the band’s age. Egyptian Hip Hop might just about have enough stage presence to fill my mum’s kitchen, but they sure as hell have enough tunes to fill Wembley. Their songs are as unpolished and scruffy as their looks, but that’s the beauty. You can tell that underneath the often clumsy, hyperactive and mostly noisy surface lays great melodic splendour. Especially the enticingly dreamy quality of set closer ‘Heavenly’ is a reminder why we love Egyptian Hip Hop. If The XX and Chapel Club are making ‘doom pop’ massive right now, Egyptian Hip Hop are already on to the next big thing: ‘happy grunge’. In your face Kurt.

Second band on the night are the equally ‘scene’ Is Tropical. Half of Is Tropical used to play in the now defunct legendary Libertines-esque South London squad-riot-troupe Ratty Rat Rat, but they have since left the squad, cleaned up their act and thankfully their songs too. Presenting the indie elite of Bristol with a literally tropical mixture of ridiculously playful lo-fi, obscurely Tetris-sounding tunes, and reverb-heavy hissed out/blissed out vocals, they showcase their unique brand of laid-back, fuzz layered pop. Each track of the unfortunately too short set is a winner creating an animated atmosphere somewhere between a warehouse fluo rave, a crack party and washing the dishes. Demos ‘I’ll Take My Chances’ and ‘Seasick Mutiny’ are gems in the rough and one can only hope that there is more where they came from.

Thursday, 28 January 2010

That's hot!

Hello lovers, I love/like/want/crave/fancy/desire/lust after all of the below:

laters lovers x

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

No more unicorns and candy-floss

Hello lovers, so I think that recently I have been way too nicey-nice talking about fairytales and unicorns and candy floss and ‘the one’ and shit like that. I’m bored now of being in Pleasantville, so let’s get down to the good stuff.

1. For ages I actually though I was a-sexual, cause I never really had the desire to interact (and you know what I mean by interact) with anybody. That doesn’t mean I didn’t fancy people, I fancy people all the time. But it was in a cushy ‘oh you are soooo cute and I wanna hold hands with you’ way, whereas now it’s more like ‘I don’t care about holding hands, I wanna hold something else’ kinda way. Maybe I am turning into a guy. Finally.

2. I just wanna be friends with benefits with certain guys and get naked in the woods. Weird. Maybe I am experiencing my rowdy teenage phase extremely late?

3. I don’t mind chest hair anymore.

4. I don’t mind beards anymore(?).

5. I still mind back hair though. I ain’t Samantha you know.

6. I used to have a tutor at uni, my favourite tutor as a matter of fact, who stubbornly proclaimed that all people self-harm. They do it in different ways, some mentally, some by cutting themselves, some by drug-addictions, some by choosing guys who beat them up and so and so on and then he proceeded to cut himself in front of class whilst filming it for the BFI. I am digressing however. I think that all humans crave some sort of pain and sex is the most natural way to get it. It’s an animalistic, wild and realistically quite ‘unhygienic’ (problem for some OCD people) act and the more you accept that it will always be ‘dirty’ and weird and awkward, the more comfortable you will be with it. Whatever. Get low.

7. Joseph from Metronomy says “Heartbreaker- I’ll break her”. And we all know what he means really.

8. Don’t be scared, use protection, have fun.

9. Don’t over-think.

10. Over-do!

Laters Linda

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Boring Post

Hello lovers, today I planned to write about a ‘phenomenon’ that I believe is typical for girls and for girls only. It can only be conceived by a convoluted, totally over-worked and over-analysing girl’s brain. It’s believing in and seeing ‘signs’. But then I realised that it would just produce a terribly tacky post and position me somewhere between a spiritual dread-locked old witch and Britney during her mental phase, so I ditched the idea. Fuck ‘signs’. So instead I am going to dedicate my time to some more list-making fun and randomness. Wooooooo.

  1. Females believe in fairy-tales and maybe our genetic code is conceived to make us believe that there is ‘the one’. How else can you explain that every person with ovaries loves ‘Twilight’ for example? Incidentally ‘the one’ in that film is a self-sacrificing, dedicated, loving vampire, so totally realistic right? Only a female author could have come up with that story.
  2. By the way and just to clear that up I believe in Unicorns (the band) but not in unicorns (the horses with a horn).
  3. Boys believe in cricket, football, beer, music (the good ones) and sex.
  4. I am very good at horrible one-dimensional generalisations.
  5. How come that really hot girls often go out with not so hot guys. But really hot guys never go out with not-so-hot girls?
  6. With schematics so meticulous the measurements of superimpositions of a room within the window make a dream that ends up being such an entity in your reflection, you are the dream to it, you are the prism.
  7. I have nerd rage quite a lot. The type of rage that you get when you start not liking/not caring about a bespectacled loner, but he is so charming and/or sad that his honesty kinda grows on you and then you start liking him and you let him spunk all over your stomach and then you never hear from him again. WTF?
  8. These New Puritans ‘Hidden’ is the best album I have heard in years.
  9. Honestly, I can quite easily say that candy floss faded hair colours are going to be the next big thing. I myself will have washed out light-blue hair soon. Fairy-tale style. Ha.
  10. I have a major thing for guys with facial scars and/or some sort of facial disfigurement. Wrong? Will it result in subsequent nerd rage? Probably!
  11. Walking a dog in the park is a guy-magnet. Humour and manners are girl-magnets.
  12. Why always make lists with even numbers? Because everybody is at least slightly OCD.

Laters lovers

Linda x

Monday, 25 January 2010

Good Shoes - No Hope, No Future

Morning lovers, here is a little review of Good Shoes second album 'No Hope, No Future' which I wrote for Gigwise, also to be found here

good shoes no hope no future

Good Shoes sophomore effort ‘No Hope, No Future’ could be classed as more mature than their debut ‘Think Before You Speak’. Sadly, it could also be classed as less outstanding.

Where there used to be jingly-jangly guitar vitality and imaginatively quirky story-telling, there is now platitudinous wailing and attempts at the angular. ‘Our Loving Mother in a Pink Diamond’ is conceived to be a prog-epic with never-ending frenzied guitar solos and quite frankly why Good Shoes, who are best at snappy lyrics and staccato riffs, would want to do a Pink Floyd is beyond my understanding. Their slowest (and possibly dullest) song ‘Everything You Do’ doesn’t showcase what Good Shoes are best at: vigour and rhythm. Sadly, ‘No Hope, No Future’ doesn’t live up to the promise of the initially released and immensely catchy singles ‘The Way My Heart Beats’ and ‘Under Control’. The former is a heavier proposition than anything on ‘Think Before You Speak’ which nonetheless perfectly balances melody with frenetic riffs and urgency.

‘Under Control’, a single so full of frantic pleading and off-beat drumming it seems to either implode or explode any second, is bursting with dynamic tempo-changes and Rhys’ distinctive atonal singing. A further highlight of their second long-player and a much-needed reminder why we love Good Shoes is album closer ‘City By The Sea’, which is a charmingly fragile gem reminiscent of pre-depression wide-eyed teenage Good Shoes, whose life was based around getting drunk and subsequently getting laid in Morden. However, for the rest of the tracks on ‘No Hope, No Future’ Good Shoes have veiled their upbeat pop in disillusionment and despair, more unfavourably they have also exchanged their signature chirpy pop for distorted layers of guitar-obtrusion. Having struggled through a majority of rather disappointing ‘more filler than killer’ tracks, one comes to the disheartening conclusion that ‘No Hope, No Future’ is a testament to Good Shoes growing up and realising there is a more menacing world outside of Morden’s suburban bubble, which is reflected in an album full of mournful monotony, political platitudes and disenchanted droning.

Their press release is trying to sell this ‘new sound’ as “emotive rawness” with a distinct “punk ethos” when all it really comes down to is that Good Shoes have lost their spark somehow. The melodies have gone as has the charming quality of the lyrics and all that’s left to hope is that Good Shoes still have a future after releasing this lacklustre sophomore effort.

Laters, Linda x

Thursday, 21 January 2010

First hot, then not.

Hiiii sweethearts!!

You know what guys? I just had an epiphany, like boom and there it was…fuck yes it’s about boys, so that means I have officially checked out of boy rehab, waste of money that, I can tell you.

Anywayyyyy, so today I am talking about things about boys/men that look great on paper but then actually turn out to be a turn-off rather than a turn-on. You know that myth/truth that everything you initially fall in love with in a person is what annoys you the most and what will make you fall out of love at the end of the relationship. Let me give you an example. You think that his passion for old-skool sneakers is so adorable and that he looks super hot in his ‘dunks’ or whatever but after having lived with this guy for a year or so, you start despising his fucking sneakers cause not only do they smell really bad (vintage and all that), but because of their massive profile sole, whenever he steps outside, he brings back major amounts of dirt into the entire apartment spreading it a bit more with every step. Gross and annoying. You get the gist though, don’t ya? At first sight a total winner, at second a major deal-breaker.

So let’s start. I am a major record/music lover, don’t get me wrong and I love a boy who knows his bands. Preferably telling me about stuff I have never heard of and impressing me with his knowledge about obscure shoegaze bands or whatever. It’s sexy. It’s interesting. It makes me wanna make out with the guy. But once you are over that first infatuation and have actually realised that all the bands he told you about are rather sucky and that there’s a reason they never made it big, the whole ‘I know more music than thou’ thing can get a bit tenuous. However, it’s even worse once you realise that his entire living room is a shrine of vinyl from four decades of shite music. You know that kind of guy, who goes to record fairs on Sunday mornings (6 a.m. waking you up in the process) to buy “Mr. Bojangles and the four Clowns’” best-of and then comes back with two full bags of new records (Yay! Ermmm no!) which he then proceeds to meticulously arrange on his dedicated vinyl shelf/shelves.

By now however, he has assembled so many shite records, they hardly fit into the shelf anymore, he has to reach up to the very upper shelf close to the ceiling, which is why he came up with an ‘ingenious’ idea. So in order to reach all his 'treasures', he simply put an old rusty ladder right into the living room. WTF? Like nooooo, not only is he ruining the ambience of the supposed ‘together-space’ but also creating a major health and safety risk. I oppose! Going to gigs together: YES! Listening to Ganglians together: YES! Discussing the pros and cons of Kurt and Courtney: YES! Rusty ladder in the living room to get to humongous record shelves: NO!!

Some further things that might get annoying after a while.

You know I love a guy who loves animals, but once his fucking dog has pooped all over your new heels and/or chewed up your newest version of Vogue, you just wanna ‘forget’ the dog in a park and maybe your new ex-boyfriend along with it. Okay maybe that’s a bit harsh, but I choose a cat guy over a dog guy any day anyway!

You know I love a guy who knows how to dress but once he decides to take longer to get ready than you (blocking the bathroom in the process) it’s a sign it’s over. All this ‘metro-sexual’ lark is not my cup of tea anyway. Boys and men look best in a nice, slightly low pair of jeans, band Tee and a checked shirt if you ask me. I also don’t mind an old-skool baseball cap or geeky hat. Thank you very much.
Maybe a bit like this:

boy 1

or maybe a bit like this (minus the guitar, cause NEVER date boys in bands):

boy 2

You know I love a guy, who has his own life and goes playing football with his mates every Saturday, but as soon as football is taking over the flat/life/sex-life, it’s time for the red card. Yes babe we can go and watch the Gunners play this Sunday, but I won’t have your football friends over every fucking other day, okay? Also we are not watching football matches on telly when 'The City' is on MTV, alright? Thanks, babe.

Loving you all really!

Laters, Linda

Wednesday, 20 January 2010


Hello teen lovers, so whilst still being in boy rehab and also basically being bored out of my wits (my TV has stopped working you know) I made the decision to take a long walk. And man a long walk it was. Three hours of leisurely strolling around Bristol’s top attractions (errrrr right) and seeing loads of joggers (what’s with joggers in this city??). Anyway, I enjoyed my epic walk and discovered that if you have too much unnecessary brain dump bothering you, a long walk will surely sort you out and make you forget about it in a matter of seconds, or at least after mile 5. Trust me. Also discovered that Bristol is just as picturesque and polished as it always looks on postcards. Maybe a bit too Pleasantville for me though. That remains to be seen. For your enjoyment, I took some pictures on my walk and please now find a selection of Bristol’s finest ‘sights’.

A pretty mural:
brizzle 1

A pretty house:
brizzle 2

A pretty tower/fountain type thing:
brizzle 6

Pretty patriotic sentiment:
brizzle 5br

Pretty view from pretty suspension bridge:
brizzle 7

Two pretty sunken in gravestones on a pretty meadow:
brizzle 3

Pretty wall:
brizzle 8

Pretty street with pretty houses:
brizzle 4

Pretty shop with pretty pink elephant sign:
brizzle 0

Laters lovers x

Tuesday, 19 January 2010


Hello lovers, since I have checked into boy-rehab yesterday, I thought it would be a grand idea to actually write about something worthwhile (that is NOT boys).

So yessers today’s post concerns acts of kindness and it is inspired by an event that I witnessed whilst sitting on the bus yesterday. There was a blind man with a guard dog waiting at the bus stop and he was asking which bus number is coming next to which people responded nicely I think. Then the bus in question came and everybody stormed off to get a seat on this bus. However, the blind man and his guard dog were left deserted and the dog couldn’t even lead the blind man because people were just walking all over the place scaring the dog. I could see the bemusement in the blind man’s face and I was upset. Why can’t people pay more attention to someone who would actually require it? Is it really that important to get that damn seat? Didn’t think so. So whilst I was condemning humankind for their selfish ways, one guy approached the blind man, took him and his dog by the hand and showed him the way to his bus. My hope in humankind returned at that very moment. As did my boy tourettes for that matter. But we are NOT talking about that….

So I thought to myself that this blog post will be dedicated to acts of kindness and making others happy. Quite obviously this will be done in list form. I have also made a playlist with purely happy songs that should inspire more bliss and kindness. BIG WORDS!

  1. Try to smile at strangers more often. You never know what might come off it plus it makes your face looks nicer.
  2. Try to talk to strangers more often, nothing to loose really.
  3. If you have a passion, try and go for it, don’t be afraid, life’s too short. If your passion is painting, do it! If your passion is cross-stitching, do it! If your passion is making out, do it!
  4. Always say ‘Thanks’ and ‘You are welcome’. It shows you have manners.
  5. Always help old people in the supermarket, cause they cannot reach the upper shelves. Always help short people for that matter too.
  6. Treat people the way you want to be treated. Always be friendly with people even if they are bitchy/ice-cold in return, cause you are not doing it for them, you are doing it for yourself! Karma is a bitch.
  7. Always think about the bigger picture and don’t get upset because of insignificant stuff. You lost your mascara, well it’s not the end of the world you know.
  8. Try to listen to people and not talk about yourself all the time. I know I do it too, but you might as well attempt to concentrate on something other than yourself for at least one hour a day.
  9. Perpetually compliment people on their face/clothes/socks/art/writing style/whatever. It makes them and you feel good.
  10. Hug people more often and show them that you care.

PLAYLIST: Kindness

See ya laters. Love Linda

Monday, 18 January 2010

I have boy tourettes

Hello loved ones, so last night I was watching ‘Donnie Darko’ and eating superbly delicious Toffee and Pecan cookies. Then something dawned on me. Like duh. Even though the movie deals with issues crucial to every human-being like depression, loneliness, insecurity and different perceptions of reality, all I could think about is how freaking hot Jake Gyllenhall is in it. All his fragile and deranged yet slightly menacing vulnerability totally got to me. Anyway, that reminded me. I have boy tourettes. I know, don’t say it.

Let me explain. I think I am a quite well-rounded personality. You know I can be funny (sometimes) and charming (less often) but at least I am always entertaining (in some way), but when it comes to chatting with my (girl-)friends, I don’t know any other topic that men. How annoying is that? Yes really annoying and I find it quite pathetic myself. We talk about holidays, I say how good a tall boy looks in a Hawaiian vintage shirt. We talk about football, I state how easy on the eye Freddie Ljungberg is. We talk about fashion, all I can utter is “Oh my dear have you seen that new Fred Perry model”…and yes, you guessed it, I am talking about the male model. We talk about art and I try and figure out which gallery is best to pick up smart guys. Anyway, you get the gist. It’s fucking pathetic. And I do realise that there is more to life than boys/men, but it’s like my brain is a one track mind to testosterone paradise and I cannot do anything about it. Grrrrr.

It’s like that scene in ‘Sex and the City’ where Miranda gets fucking annoyed because the other three only ever define themselves by the men they are with at the moment and then says something like “how is it possible that for three beautiful, successful and smart women the only topic they have in common is men, that’s pretty sad.” and then she storms right out of the cafĂ©. I wish I could say: YES SISTER. But in reality it’s more like: Fuck that’s totally me, too. And I don’t want it to be me. I want to talk about films without necessarily mentioning the hot male lead role. Or talk about music without stressing how hot this new post-punk band look in their checked shirts. You know what I mean. I am going on a boy-thoughts-detox.

P.S. Before I check into boy-rehab, let me have this one last injection of hotness. See below.

Donnie Darko

See ya laters. Linda x

Thursday, 14 January 2010

words of wisdom and/or disconnected ramblings

Hello lovers, today is one of those days…felt like I should be blogging again. Oh well, it’s a pleasure. You know you love it. Today I won’t have a coherent topic (again), instead I will be engaging in completely disconnected, random ramblings, so exactly what this blog was supposed to be about.

So this is what has been bothering me lately.

Firstly, I never really wanted to become one of those girls, you know the ones that only talk about hair and stuff. But I fear that I am EXACTLY that girl, bleurgh, I mean really? Ever since I have plucked up enough courage to dye my hair platinum blonde and consequently look like a mixture of Gwen Stefani (hopefully) Lady Gaga (maybe) and Courtney Love post heroin (grrrr), I have become hair-obsessed. My hair. Others’ hair. Boys’ hair. Even cats' hair. Weird. Anyway so last time I went and got it dyed my usual hairdresser (I am, as you have probably guessed by now, OCD when it comes to hair and only ever trust one hairdresser) wasn’t there and some fucking apprentice did it and guess what… turned slightly orange. Fucking orange. Double grrrr. So for some time I wanted to kill her and then I wanted to shave it all off and do a Britney but that terrified me and I am way too sane for that, so I finally accepted it and have ever since been trying to work the ‘punk’/‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck-if-my-hair-looks-like-a-rainbow’ attitude, yet it isn’t working.

Secondly, you know how we all have ‘the one’. And it’s that one, who looks like an angel to you. That one, who wants to go on ‘non-fake dates’. That one, who always says the right things. That one, who posts super cute pictures of himself playing with his super cute cat on Facebook. That one, who reads the same blogs, magazines and books that you read. That one, who loves music you love. That one, who also introduces you to new music that you will love. That one, who seems perfect. Well you know that’s NOT THE ONE.

And finally, I only have two modes of behaviour when I am meeting new people and that is either super shy or super hyper, so basically the opposite ends of the spectrum. Seriously wondering what is wrong with me cause both attitudes aren’t really me. And I have the hidden fear that it’s a sign of massive insecurity, which wouldn’t make me very happy. Anyway, both attitudes freak the shit out of people. However, I still prefer super hyper to super shy, cause super shy is just boring, whereas super hyper is at least “wow…who’s that girl, she’s scary” and I mean scary in a fascinating way. Anyway must now go and analyse why I can’t be normal when I meet people.

See ya laters. Listening to Ganglians. Good stuff. Loving you all!

Wednesday, 6 January 2010


Hello lovers, it’s that time again. I have actually been reading up on Bentham’s authoritarianism and I have hence come up with some rules of my own. Today I am indulging in some highly one-dimensional generalisations. So some more of the same really. Having declared my mission for 2010 to be bringing back romance, I contemplated rules about datable and undatable guys. Strict and simple, in your face. They go a bit like that:


If you only think a guy is hot because he behaves like an autist/Asperger syndrome patient, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy casually drinks 10 or more Sambuccas at a party, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy dresses more fashionably than you, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy smokes more than 2 joints a night, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy is in a semi-successful band, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy is called Reginald, Roland or Ronald, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy never pays for your drinks, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy kissed more than 100 girls before he turns 35, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy owns more shoes than you, he’s totally undatable.
If a guy shaves his privates more frequently than you, he’s totally undatable.


If a guy makes playlists/mixtapes/collages for you, he’s totally datable.
If a guy takes you to football matches and lends you is team scarf, he’s totally datable.
If a guy wears more colourful socks than you, he’s totally datable.
If a guy has longer hair than you, he’s totally datable.
If a guy pays for your drinks and cab home, he’s totally datable.
If a guy takes you out to spontaneous roadtrips to the seaside, he’s totally datable.
If a guy tells you he loves your flaws, he’s totally datable.
If a guy has less than 100 Fuckbook friends, he’s totally datable.
If a guy knows stuff about Foucault that you don’t, he’s totally datable.
If a guy is not scared to dance to cheesy R’n’B/R’n’R with you, he’s totally datable.
If a guy calls you/emails back within a day, he’s totally datable.


Laters, Linda x

Monday, 4 January 2010


Hello lovers, how is everything going? I literally cannot concentrate today, don’t know why. Plus I have seen that I blogged about many ‘topics’ recently and all this coherent blogging needs to stop now. So I thought might be a good idea to write something completely random and disconnected. And what could be better than some random list making with more random advice/questions/meditations, yay!

Also I have been having weird dreams lately that are either concerned with Batman and/or cuddling with really inappropriate people. Not cuddling with Batman though. But cuddling with bad men if you know what I mean….oh dear, it starts already.

Anyway. Here we go.

1. I think cool haircuts are way overrated and it’s proven (at least in my mind)that people with nerdy/non-existent haircuts try way harder to get with a girl and are way nicer to be with. So goodbye side-parted dark-haired hotties, hello ginger Afro blokes.

2. Sometimes, I get the distinct feeling that all human beings are slightly masochistic. We want what we cannot have and if we finally have it, we don’t want it anymore.

3. I choose happy socks over shiny shoes any time.

4. I choose cats over dogs any time.

5. It’s not about the emotion itself, but about the intensity of the emotion.

6. There’s nothing better than to be the first one dancing. Everybody thinks you’re wasted, but you’re not. Guys will eventually come and ‘dance’ with you cause they think you’re wasted and you have loads of free space to make outrageous moves.

7. So seriously do guys like blondes better or do they prefer naturally brunettes? Is it that they wanna shag the blondes and marry the brunettes? Wanna know.

8. There’s nothing better or more endearing than watching boys watching football other than watching boys watching cricket. Awwww

9. What’s cricket all about by the way?

10. I seriously have the hots for guys that know how to fix a PC.

Laters, Linda x

Sunday, 3 January 2010

Fuckbook ruins (love) lives.

Hello lovers, the new year is upon us! Yay! And did you get a new year’s kiss from a randomer? I didn’t but that’s probably for the best cause contracting a cold sore for the new year is not my idea of fun. Anyway today I will discuss a phenomenon that had single-handedly defined the last decade and no I am not talking about MJ’s death, but about social networking.

Now with social networking you think there’s a whole world of exciting opportunities out there but I think it actually ruins (love) lives. Okay maybe that’s a bit too over-dramatic but it certainly takes away a lot of options too. And yes of course I am only talking about social networking in terms of dating guys, hello? Are you listening?

Soooo, let’s assume you saw a hot guy at a club and your friend kinda knows him but there wasn’t time to properly get introduced…what do you do the next morning? Obviously you online-stalk him. There’s a high possibility that you will find him as well cause you know friends of friends always come up first in the search. So then you can see his profile (due to the new Fuckbook regulations only parts of it, but still enough) and then shock horror…..he likes Coldplay. Or he is a fan of Big Brother but not in the ironic sense but in the real sense cause he is commenting about it on his wall as well. Or even worse he has loads of photos with random bitches around him, which either means he’s a major player or gay. Sooooo there you are - totally lost interest and/or intrigue before you actually ever met the dude in reality. And that’s the problem people know too much about you before you even told them about you. I don’t want him to see all the pictures of me dancing like a twat cause that makes me undatable but thanks to Fuckbook even your parents can see these pictures, woooo.

Also what the hell is all this E-dating about? Some people tend to believe that Fuckbook is, hmmmm, well literally just that. Add a random hot guy (of course hotness is only judged by the profile pic which could be anybody and on top it could be photoshopped if you know what I mean) and if he likes your profile picture then well, good chances are you gonna go on a date…if he lives in the same town and is not a fan of Coldplay of course. However, what the hell are you gonna talk about on your date then? Right darlings NOTHING cause he already knows EVERYTHING, sucky. So the only option you have is to get majorly drunk to avoid the awkward silences and then you throw up all over his favourite checked shirt/band Tee and you will never see him again AND you will get Fuckbook abused AND/OR you will be deleted from his friend’s as well, ouch. So listen to me kids, say no to E-dating!!!

Laters Linda x