life is a bitch, and don't buses know it.

It is the rule of life that you will run into a good looking boy when you are looking your absolute worst. As soon as you go to school/work without a speck of make up on and your hair looking like a bog brush then karma sends one big dollop of "hey isn't that the hot guy you know? what a coincidence". No karma, it isn't a coincidence. It's how God get's his kicks and you and me both know it.

What to do in such a situation?

Well you have a couple of options you can:

a) Run in the opposite direction with a bag over your face.

b) Quickly dig out the grotty brush that has been sitting at the bottom of your bag for weeks and make the best of what you've got going.

c) Give up and flash him your muckiest smile. Can't beat em, join em.

Personally I don't have the confidence for c, the tools for b and today running was ruled out since I was on a bus. So I did the only thing one can in the situation.

d) Throw rolled up bus tickets at his head.

I can't punish karma, but I can punish you for looking so goddamn good all the time. Take that guy-I-kinda-know! I'm sure he felt the wrath of my frustration.

On a completely unrelated note, such love for South Park. I like how it isn't afraid to say the things we know we shouldn't and poke fun at the things we take so seriously. Eric Cartman, I salute thee!

"don't you know anything about manatees? they are the only creature completely umoved by terrorist threat."

only underdogs and physcos in this world

-vernon god little

I was reading in the bath earlier (my lifelong devotion to bathtubs and how my time can be best spent in one is an ongoing affair) with my new read, and this simple phrase really jumped out at me. Thinking on it, I could quite easily seperate the people I know into these two categories.

There are the meek, too self-concious or self-pitying to raise above the fray and then there's the strong who can abuse the balls god gave them.

And both the meek and the ballsy are brought together in one delightful world - that of internet networking sites.

Oh I had you for a second there didn't I! You thought, oh my, Cassies coming over all philosophical. Well no fear readers, I wouldn't do that to you. Depth is something I think is best given out in small, teaspoon-sized portions that accustom you to the shock of a teenager thinking beyond sex and violence. Like when people learn to walk again, they start off with a few steps not lunge right into a bloody triathalon. Don't worry though, I will never let Uggs, Jugs & the Primark Patrol ever slip into that pit of teen angst that so many blogs I stumble across contain. If I want to be angsty i'll do it locked up tight in my bedroom with James Blunt blaring on the CD player, and my head buried under a mountain of pillows and snotty tissues - not on the wonderful world wide web.

Now now, we're straying from topic again. We must be more careful about this. I say 'we' because the idea of a nonexistant reader taking the blame eases my literary guilt. Topic - stay. Good girl, have a toy bone.

Facebook, how I would be lost without thee. Upon turning on any computer of techy enough phone I instantly tap in my email, password and scour the page for updates. Updates on who? Why the hundreds of friends I have added of course. Why no I don't know 75% of them very well, at least 5% i've only ever met once even - but what does it matter! On Facebook we are all joined together in a delicious mismatch of personal affairs, meaning that peeping over neighbour's fences are a thing of the past. Why spend precious hours sifting through garbage or lying low in stake-outs when you can simply look at So-and-Sos wall to see what they're up to? Genius, pure bloody genius. Okay maybe I didn't need to see the grimey pictures of what that-girl-who-likes-to-wear-nothing got up to at the weekend, or how adorable the ex and his new piece o' ass look like together but on the whole sites like this are a godsend. Checking up on old friends, sending out invitations for parties and keeping adrift of the local gossip can all be done in a snap and without moving from your chair.

So hats off to you Facebook, my love. Long shall you reign. And whilst in the Facebook mood I whipped up this baby, a symbol of my undying dislike of Keira Knightley:

Only joking guys!





As if i'd accept her friend request ;)

fuck the abcs. literally.

because these days it's all about three different letters entirely.

People, TV, magazines - even at my age, if it doesn't spell S-E-X, then it isn't worth a lookin.

This should be terrifying of course, and i'm sure the older generations are quaking in their cardigans, but i'm sorry grandma this is simply the way it is. Back in the middle ages (think camelot and bad teeth) people were doing the vertical rumba at far earlier ages, daughters being sold off to grubby husbands at their ripest age. Considering women died squirting out sprogs around age twenty, their peak of health was around thirteen. Pretty young huh? This trend of youthful sexual partners continued for centuries, it is only until the past few hundreds that people have started to get uppity about when the bonking begins. I'm not saying sex at thirteen is a great idea - quite the opposite actually - I just think people need to stop being so shocked about underage shananigans. Shit happens. It's the way teenagers handle sex that makes it a big deal or not. As long as your safe, your doing it with somebody who you give a crap about and you aren't going to regret it twenty years down the line then fair enough to you. Drunken shag in an alley? narrrrrrrrt so much. Sex should come with a label 'handle with care'.

Of course you are talking (well, reading) to somebody who is legal, so for those of you who are a little iffy about these things can calm down. Though if you think a pretty much unenforceable rule has ever stopped anybody you're crackers, my friend.

Let me lay down a few rules about barely sex. Barely legal, barely enjoyable - and well, let's be quite frank - barel anything worth getting excited about.

1. If you've been dating for about half an hour and he's already trying to get in your primark panties, chances are love he was only ever really after one thing in the first place.
2. If he doesn't happen to have a condom on him, but he really wants this special moment. Then sorry chap, you can be special on your own, because pregnancy isn't really worth a few minutes of fun.
3. If he has sex with another girl, ditch him. At our age it isn't worth hanging in there for, you've probably only been together for a few weeks and if he already can't control himself he isn't worth the fuss and tears.
4. When he says 'I don't want to pressure you into anything, but...' no. He does want to pressure you into something. That's why he's bringing it up.
   
5. If a guy starts getting his kipper out in a public place, he might not be boyfriend material i'm afraid.
6. "If you really care about me then you'll..." ...tell him to zip it up or hit the highway. Caring is a two way street, if he cares about you then he won't be pestering you for something you aren't ready to give.
7. If you're really really drunk and he's sober, then he's taking advantage. If you're both really really drunk, then it's just a mistake. Slight change, big difference.
8. Sex doesn't mean affection. Just because he calls you up every other day for a little bedroom rendezvous doesn't mean he wants to be your bf4life. Doesn't take an Einstein to work that baby out.
9. Okay so you're in a relationship, you both care a lot about each other - all the boxes are being ticked. So what do you do? Post slapdash, awkward photos of you wrapped half naked around each other in bed grinning up at the mobile camera. I'm happy that he wants to see that, but I don't, so please - save it for the bedroom.
10. The first time will not be magical. sorry kids!

Well I hope this little sexplanatory guide helped in the slightest. Ah you see where the URL comes from now? I'm so glad. Because when it comes down to it, a large part of being a teenager these days is sex. Everybody's looking for it, and they don't know what to do with it once they have it. Bloody typical, eh?




just like to thank my resident sexpert layla (blogURL to be added asap) for her contribution. always a pleasure ;)

I don't like beginnings. Not in the convential sense. They're awkward, full of pleasantries and half-hearted waves. You aren't quite sure what they think of you, so you stand awkwardly, chest thrust, back straight but eyes downcast - a picture of uncomfortable defiance. Defiance against what? First impressions, bad opinions and a lack of attraction. Because of course, even if you aren't attracted to them, you want them to be attracted to you. Why? You love the way it makes you feel of course. That first catch of eyes, shy smile and glint of interest. Yet, it so rarely goes the way we want does it? Usually you blurt out an unfunny joke, make a risky comment you're not quite able to get away with before shuffling away into the crowd - off to search for the next glass of booze to dim this already unfortunate memory.

Shall we just skip? Pretend we've known each other for years? Injokes and winks at the ready?

Good. That'll make things a lot simpler.

Uggs, jugs and the primark patrol - so what does it mean? Well, have you noticed how the 'youth of today' (don't you just hate that phrase?) are starting to look a bit like an army? An army in which the uniform is a pair of scruffy Ugg boots, a top that has your boobs spilling out and at least one item purchased from primark. And what are they fighting against? Originality I suppose, though one must presume that they don't do it on purpose. Don't be silly, they don't have the smarts for that. It's a sad truth though, that walking down the highstreet these days a unique outfit is hard to come by, with everybody shopping at the same handful of big brand shops this is to be expected. Of course you do get the odd fashionista, draped in finds from charity shops or somehow making those everybody-has look everybody-wishes-they-have. This though, is pretty darn rare. Now don't get me wrong, i'm not particularly fashionable myself - in fact i'm probably quite the opposite - I dress in what's clean out of the wash and what I like, with little thought to the overall effect. What seperates me, and likewise thinkers, from the primark patrol however is that we are at least concious of unoriginality. We do not think spray tans, jeggings and leather jackets that look like Topshop vomited them out, are the height of mode. No, we accept we don't have that fashionable spark and leave best alone, allowing our more adventurous of friends to carry the torch for us. We are the robins among a sea of pigeons, lusting after those allusive peacocks and their funky accesories. Yes I just used the word funky, what'cha gonna do?

Anyway this is all getting very off topic, and making this sound like this is going to be a fashion blog (god forbid) or...well i'm not sure what else, but it's definitely looking pretty hazy right now. No what this is going to be a comment from a rather-young-youth, about the behaviour of rather-young-youths, opposed to the zillllllllion adult blogs telling you how to date, when he is going to propose and what's the best foods to eat when you're pregnant.

well i'm afraid that dating at our age involves at most a trip to the cinema, I bloody hope nobody is going to propose to me, and if i'm pregnant at sixteen then eating nutritiously will be the last thing on my mind - in fact i'll probably go drown myself in the nearest bowl of cookie crunch, before my mum can get to me.

So please, sit back and enjoy as I break down what it's like to be a part of the uggs, jugs and primark patrol generation - and how best to survive. Or at least if not survive, hang in there to the bitter end.

casssssssie xo