Give me an F, give me a U what does it spell...CHEER.

So tomorrow i'm travelling to Cheer nationals to compete in what is probably going to be my last competition.
Kill me.
Don't get me wrong, I love Cheerleading and its a big part of uni. but i fucking hate the obnoxious and vomit inducing environment that it's so rigourously cemented in.

To all the Mums/Boyfriends/Dads/Brothers/Sisters/Grandmother etc who wear the fucking ' CHEER (mum/boyfriend/dad/brother/sister etc tshirts, with a picture of said Cheerleader. FUCK OFF. You look like a weird child stalker, and nobody cares about your little darling because they're part of a SQUAD and funnily enough, the whole Cheer community does NOT revolve around the performances of over enthusiastic individuals, who have been pushed into participating in the sport by the parents who failed in their own sporting achievements and thus want to live vicariously through their children.

Coaches who make their 8 year old Cheerleaders, wiggle their bum and wear fake eyelashes and makeup that even Jordan wouldn't sport...you are robbing them of an innocent childhood, yes it's a performance and i assume they dont wear it everyday, but by the time theyre twelve, they alone will probably be responsible for the annual profits of Maybelline. They will also be hookers. Or at least look like them.

To the hosts who make us sing 'WE ARE PROUD OF YOU SAY WE ARE PROUD OF YOU...OOO GOOD JOB!!!!'  WHY are you continually suprised and sporting a face with so much shock it looks like you've just been told you have gential warts when you ask University squads with girls aged 18-25 to join in with the screams of junior squads? Go kick rocks and leave us alone you prat.

As you can tell i'm not a very 'cheery' person, to look happy requires a force of incredible effort for me. in fact at competition, don't talk to me unless you want me to cut you with my viscous viscous words and a stare so harsh that it feels like you're heart has been shoved through your arsehole.
Other than that...roll on the next 3 days <3

Back then we were killing time, we were young and restless, we needed to unwind.

It's nearly Summer. This fills me with both endless optimism, and endless dread simultaneously. I love the sun and the heat don't get me wrong. I love summer fashion, and i practically live in gladiator sandals till November. I even, EVEN like the freckles that adorn my face and join up to create a perma tan. What i dont like are the following things:

Bees/wasps- Totally unesseccary ,humming, mood ruining things, which i just happen to be petrified of. The worst thing? Because my hair is orange they think its a flower, and therefore tend to flock around me. Pricks.

Sweat- Oh Hello, didn't realise i was actually a man and fail to simply pespire anymore.

The disappearace of Social Boundaries- Yes Slutty Girl it is TOTALLY appropriate for you to walk around in shorts and a bikini top in the middle of Guildford Town centre. The same goes for you flabby or chavvy man, i really wanted to see your underdeveloped chest and carpet on your belly. Unless you are Mila Kunis or Zac Efron, please refrain from offending my eyes.

Blaring Music from cars- I don't need to hear the top 40/dubstep/dance/trance/emo music blaring from your car. Please stop. i don't chose to listen to it in my own time, let alone want to be forced to hear it on my days off.

Endless ice cream vans- STOP tempting me. I'd quite like to be thin please. You are clearly sent by the devil.

Otherwise..Summer 2011, get in my life.