She loves you….

WELL golly. Overwhelmed by love, comments, emails in response to last post. We really weren’t expecting that to be our most read/popular post ever and we’re really touched by the things you said, the stories you shared and the fact that you even bothered to read it. Fanks lots. Anyway we figured we’d lighten the mood. AND WE DUN DRAWINGS. Here are the 7 signs we know when we’re in love…


LAFF, LUFF. LUURRVVEEEEEE, Love, love, love. Tiny word big meaning. What does it mean, i dunno what it means to you but i know what it means to me. So here are my seven signs I’m a Panda in love…

1) Half a sandwich…
I’m a big eater, i fucking love food, can’t get enough of it, I’m all nomnomnomnomnom. Cake get in me gob. Massive bit O steak, bloody avin that. I’ll devour a pack of Oreos and still have room for eight sausages daintily dipped into a jar of hellmans licking each finger after each one. Suddenly i find myself living off of a diet of roll ups and coffee with half a sandwich for lunch. Only ever half, I’ll make a whole eat half… Oh FACK!

2) Bye Bye Peacock…
As a single girl out on a Friday, I peacock up to the max. Hair back combed to perfection, perfectly applied make up and follow the golden rule… Either legs or boobage on show. Hello boys LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! Ahem so when the object of my affection ISN’T in said pub i walk in wearing an over sized hoody.  Thick tights, moon boots, hair scraped back, no lipstick no perfume. Holy Fucksticks I didn’t even shave my bloody legs.



3) Tossing…
Not like that you merverts… I’m a good sleeper, I’m like a cat, can sleep anytime anywhere. I love sleeping LOVE IT… One of my favourite places to be is my bed. Even if i go to sleep stooopidly late I’m still guaranteed that once me peepers are shut nothings gonna facking wake me. I’m always shocked to find its been raining in the morning, or me Ma’ll call and be like “Ooooh did you hear that thunder-storm last night the whole house was shaking.” “Ummmm nope I was sleeping” So to find myself waking up every hour, taking at least two hours to get to sleep at all, the cat only has to breath IN THE OTHER BLOODY ROOM and my eyes are open and I’m fidgeting around like that stupid princess who had the pea under her bed… Daft cow (her not me) (well actually maybe me too)

4) Music and Heel clicking…
There’s always music on ALL DAY. Weather that’s spotify blaring in the house or me iPod in when I’m mooching about on my own. Difference is, music is now THE MUSIC! The music we have exchanged, what I’ve sent to you and you me. All grouped together in one single playlist with some witty title just for us. And the heel clicking oh how i wish i could heel click… Like that kid in the wheelchair who was dancing inside I’m heel clicking inside. I’ll no longer walk anywhere though, I’ll do the walk/dance… Look like a TWAT, I don’t ruddy bloody care.

“Eeeeeeekkkk” “SQUEEEEEEALLLL” “Guess what??!!” “ZOMG” “Eeeeekkkkkkk” My close circle of Witches/Friends are coming on this journey with me (GET OVER IT MEN FOLK ITS WHAT WE DO) BT Family and friends is finally bloody paying for itself… I’d tell the bloody Postman all about it if he wouldn’t run away down the path so fucking quick.

6) Not freaked by feet…
I HATE FEET!!!! See how i put that all in CAPS to really bring home my loathing for them. I’d imagine its something to do with mine being absolutely fucked but whatever. I hate them, to the point where i think it was actually the reason i stopped being friends with this bloke a while back. He got out his feet IN MY HOUSE and started fiddling around with them, all bloody sweaty they were ERRGrrrggghhhh. Even the thought of Matt Smiths (I love him) make me feel a bit queasy. So yeah when the thought of your feet don’t repulse me. When i could actually imagine touching them after you’d had a long hard day. I know I’ve got it really bad.

7) YOU…
Are the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep and all the hours in between that. When suddenly all the adventures I’ve got planned seem doubly fun because I am going to do them with you. WE IS GOING ON ADVENTURES!!!! Museums and Parks even ruddy SAINSBOS!!! . When TWAT becomes an affectionate term. I’m warm and glowy like I’ve Overdosed on Readybrek and I can’t imagine spending a single day without seeing your stupid lovely face.


I have a really vast and weirdly eclectic selection of music spread over 2 iPods, a vinyl collection, towers of dusty CD’s and long lists of spotify playlists. But every once in a while… I get stuck on repeat. Listening to Slide Away. By Oasis. I DONT KNOW WHY. It’s not related to any particular time or any specific boy. THAT SONG. It gives me the feelings. Like the kind of feelings you get from a person – it’s not even about the song, or the singing, or the lyrics or anything but something about that song makes me go PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. There are about 7 or 8 others that get me like this too (Nick Cave’s Ship Song, Always Love by Nada Surf, Maximo Park’s Going Missing…) but when my brain turns to mush and my heart is full of boy, I CAN ONLY LISTEN TO THIS SONG. Here’s an interesting fact: When traveling from my parents front door to my own, this song can play through fully 14 times. Amazing, right? This is currently fast becoming replaced by Nada Surf’s cover of Love & Anger by Kate Bush… Dunno why. Not sure how I feel about this change but there ya go eh! I’ll stick with what I know for now. SLIDE AWAY. Give it all you’ve got….

(nothing to do with the song… but…) I’m kinda loud. And social. And busy. You probably know this or figured it out for yourself. When I’ve got THE LOVE though – I kinda go a bit catatonic. I’ll sit at home. Staring. Writing. Doodling. Sewing. Quiet time. On my own… It’s a pretty sharp contrast from how I am when I just ‘fancy’ guys as I’m sure my patient housemates + friends will testify – that when I’m – well – yknow – enjoying The Single Life then it’s hard to shut me up talking about this text message or that email from various boys. When I’m QUIET though… that’s when it’s business time.

It's scary how good I'm getting at MS Paint-ifying my bedroom.

It's scary how good I'm getting at MS Paint-ifying my bedroom.

I’ve got a lot of hair. It’s quite possibly the curliest you’ll ever see but I straighten it every now n then. A lot at the moment since The Fringe incident when a hairbrush got tangled up at the front of my face and I had to cut myself out of it resulting in a short silly fringe that I have to keep straight. BOYS though. The ones that end up liking me the most. The ones where proper stuff actually happens… they always seem to like it better curly. Messy. Massive. I dunno why. It’s good for me because it’s bloody easier sticking me head under a tap than spending 3 hours pulling hair brushes out of my scalp and burning my fingertips on Sarah’s straighteners… Maybe if you’re readin this you can help me out. But when the hair goes natural… that’s a good sign.

I love reading – I love books – as my heaving bowing bookshelves will testify. But when I’m full of the love lurgy I just don’t have the ability to switch off enough to concentrate on a book. I can’t read at all. It’s super frustrating and it makes me feel thick. Is that weird? I’ve tried reading graphic novels or comics or autobiographies because I thought they might need less brain power but it doesn’t work.

5 – MY MUM
I go through funny phases with my mum. When I was a teenager I felt like I couldn’t tell her ANYTHING. I never spoke to her. Especially about boys. A big part of this is because she’s like a sieve and if I’ve told her something vaguely exciting or boy-related I can be expecting a call from a selection of aunties and cousins within the hour. It’s tricky these days because we get on pretty well now. Not in those disgusting “my mum’s my best mate” ways but I’m just a lot more comfortable talking to her. She’s got me through a lot and been understanding and helpful despite only reeeeally knowing the bare bones of what I’m really like with boys or what my actual history is. However close we ever get there’s a whole heap of stuff that mums just don’t ever need to know – right? Fact is – if I’ve told my mum about you – I’m havin The Feelings.

Empty pages. LOVE = creativity. If you catch me buying a new moleskine you know somethin’s goin on. That is all.

I love making things for people. I love finding treats that I know people will like and appreciate. I’m a giver. I’m a feeder. I love cooking big meals for people and I love giving them things that I know they’ll like – I like knowing someone has somethin awesome as a result of me having thought about them or seen somethin that put a smile on my face because it reminded me of them. This isn’t a strict lovers-only rule but it’s fair to say if I give you a pressie then I think the world a ya…

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2 Responses to She loves you….

  1. Tom says:

    Oh GOD I hate feet too! Especially men’s feet in horrible sandals in summertime. Old people’s feet come a close second. UGH. Old men’s feet? I can’t even think about them without wanting to be ill. When I try to conjure up a mental image of old men’s feet, my brain just makes me think of a kitten or a cake or something. Self censorship. Love it.

  2. Tom M says:

    One comment? Seriously people? Pah!

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