Surprise, bitch

Me and The Perfect Natalia had this urge to buy some fancy wine and some nomz, so we went to the nearest Tesco's. And while being there we were both like "Hey! They have ponies in Kinder Surprise. Lets buy some!". So we did.

Can  you fucking imagine we both got the same toy? I mean, what are the odds to get THE SAME TOY in two Kinder Surprises? What the fuck Ferrero? Back in my time it was almost impossible to get two identical toys.

The world has gone to shit, I tell ya.

First world problems - a breathtaking saga

Oh are you fucking kidding me?

Well, I had my post almost ready when the Starbucks wifi just died. So I will start from the beginning.
I had one hour before my doctor's appointment so I have decided to check out this massive shopping center that had just been opened. The plan was simple - have a coffee and a nice, warm panini and maybe take a look at the shops. This little trip made me realize that I need a twitter account, so I can post there my first world problems instead of texting The Perfect Natalia frantically. This is a transcript of what happened.

I entered the shopping center at 15:57.

16:09
I'm already lost. Girl got them skills.
16:14
So.Lost. Where the fuck is coffee and food?
16:17
I badly want panini and there is no panini. I have to go to Starbucks damnit. First world problems lol.
16:21
Where the fuck do they have Starbucks here?
16:27
NO PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE IN STARBUCKS.
FUCK.MY.LIFE.
16:32
I guess a gingerbread one is not that bad. Their panini is flawless, I can admit it. Also elderflower water yay!
16:37
Woo! Free wifi!
16:43
Update: wifi at Starbucks sucks.
16:50
I really need a twitter account...

Yeah... But, on the bright side, the coffee and food was really awesome.

Let me tell you how awesome you are if you're not white

When I went to an international uni I was sure I will get even more tolerant than I was previously to this experience. Gay? Hell yeah! Person of colour? Bring it on! Vegan? Okay, that may be weird but if you don't stick your nose into my bacon sandwich we're okay dokey! International uni seemed to be a perfect place to learn ultimate tolerance towards everything.

I was so wrong it hurts.

Let me start with this ridiculous event when one of our Nigerian students decided to call me and my German friend a "privileged whites" just because we didn't agree to put her slide on the group presentation. It was so wrong on so many levels, that putting it in a assessed work would be a suicidal mission. But we got called privileged whites. Can you imagine me calling someone a nigger in this kind of situation? I would get hanged for racism. But this girl? Nah, it was just okay to be openly racist towards our race. She literally shouted it in our faces and absolutely no one reacted. Because apparently, being racist towards the white race is okay. 

On some other occasion we were discussing evolution (science students, forgive us). And this Nigerian girl didn't just ask us to stop. She told us to not ever mention evolution in her presence because SHE FORBIDS US. Excuse me, but I'm a free person and I can talk about whatever shit I can think of and some princess can't make me stop. When I told her that is not really her business what we are talking about and maybe she gets offended so hard about evolution because she is a proof it is nonexistent (in a intellectual way, obviously) everyone got so shocked. OMG Fox, U so racist. Well, if I get to be called privileged just because I think a slide is bullshit and I can't talk about some topics, I might as well get mean.

I don't deny white race have done some nasty things to people of colour. There was slavery, mass murders of native Americans and other things people should not be proud of. I don'd deny racism, because that is a serious issue. But there is something more than just racism towards people of colour. There is a huge amount of non-tolerance towards white race.

How does it work, can someone tell me? Me, my Indian, Iraqi or Chinese and Jewish friends were just okay with all kinds of jokes. Making a joke about the black race - RAGE. Someone black making fun of white race - as a white person I should acknowledge that I am privileged, shut my whore mouth and cope with all kinds of abuse. Well, I call bullshit on that.

I think right now he have this sick, reverse racism thing going on. Everyone can mock white race. No one can make jokes about other races. Like we couldn't just all be equal and chill about who we were born. I guess this is a human thing. To abuse others.

And I'm so sick of it.

Oh...

Discovered today that in fact, I really like One Republic.

Oh the feels.

Oh the prettiness.

Oh I need to write more.

Oh everything is perfect.

Oh.

DIY

Still alive. Just very busy.

Me and The Perfect Natalia are invited to some fancy-pants party. The theme is Royals and Hobos and as we are both absolutely perfect, we are going as royals (duh!). And because we are also fabulous, we have to prepare some sweet-ass costumes for the event.

The crowns have been already ordered (and they are flawless), we are currently working on the dresses and it was time to come up with some masks. At first I just wanted to buy them, but apparently all masks available in shops are shit. So, as a person who knows absolutely nothing about DIY I have decided to make them myself.

Spent the whole morning looking at lace mask tutorials and after finding a perfect one, I bought what I needed. Because I liked the idea of a mask glued with some lash glue, rather than tied around my head I also got this damned thing, not even knowing how to use it. But yeah, I cut some very lumpy holes in my lace masks, put the lash glue on it, put it on my face and...

This piece of shit fell off.

From now on the story goes like that. I got mad that this lash glue is useless and washed my face to get rid of it. Reached for the nearest towel, wiped my face and apparently, instead of a mask, I glued a towel to my face. The next thirty seconds I just stood in the bathroom thinking "what the fuck just happened". As it turned out, I had to wait a bit for the glue to start working. Good to know, you stupid makeup equipment. Removing the glued towel was not the nicest thing that happened to me in my life.

All in all, the masks are ready. And they look pretty sweet, to be honest. But there is no way I can get this glue of my face. The things I do for science/love/fashion... (mostly science, to see if I suck at DIY hard or just a little lol)

Fantastic Mrs Fox

Still unemployed.

Not that I spend much time sending applications. I'm in this weird state when I don't quite cope with the fact that it is the first time in FUCKING 18 YEARS that I'm not attending any educational institution. The last time was when I was five and still hoping to see a live dinosaur. So it was a long time ago.
I still remember when I did my first degree. I've stopped being Fox and became Engineer Fox. Didn't feel much difference, I was just drunk for two weeks straight. But after that I returned to being myself. Because seriously, an Engineer? Me? Lol.

And now I'm officially a Master of Science. So now I'm MSc Fox. Still not used to this title. And surprisingly I'm not drunk all the time, but I think I'm getting there. Or not.

My Mom told me once that I'm this type of person who can work all the time and when the time for a break comes (for instance, vacation), dies of heart attack. I didn't die of a heart attack, but I've become a lump of aimless, anxious mass.

In that case I'm spending my time watching some semi-okayish anime about titans, blood and emo boys. But they're wearing very tight clothes, so I can dig that.

Also I'm waiting for the file to download. The Perfect Natalia just told me that I could choose what episodes I want to download and it would be faster. I didn't. I'm a retard. With a degree. This makes everything worse.

Hang in there, Cecil

My sister last week bought a ragdoll kitten. Cecil was delivered to her from a cattery in Poland, the one that is said to be the best. Cecil is an adorable bundle of fur and joy but bad things happened.

Our new addition to our big, cat family is very ill.

Cecil has been at my sister's place in London for merely a week. On Thursday, the same day I got my degree results Cecil fell ill. His temperature was over 40, he didn't eat, didn't react to anything. Just all his happiness and energy disappeared, leaving nothing behind. My sister took him to the vet and Cecil had to stay at animal hospital where he remains ever since. For the last 2 days his temperature was way too high, he didn't eat and had no energy to even stand up. On Saturday we thought this is the end of his short life. But fortunately, he's still with us, still fighting.

They did tests and we are still waiting for the results. It is not FIV, it is not FELV. We are still waiting for the FIP and cat typhus results. Today he feels a bit better, ate something, his temperature is okay. But he stills stays in the hospital, because he has a very low white blood cell ratio.

We really hope Cecil will make it. We keep our fingers crossed, we still hope he'll get better. We're trying to be optimistic. He's a brave little cat, he's going to be okay.

Pay for art school and become a REAL artist

I'm still unemployed, so I might as well rant about life.

You what I really hate? Despise? Want to exterminate? Erase from planet Earth? Murder like a heartless motherfucker I am?

People who call themselves "artists" and can't even draw a fucking circle or write a description of an empty bag of crisps.

Seriously, why? How did this happen? Why there are thousands of stupid morons who say "I'm an artist!" and have never created anything worth something?". You know what I noticed? I noticed that basically every single person who goes to art school calls himself an artist. You draw like a five-year-old with permanent brain damage but your parents pay for your fancy art school? INSTANT ARTIST. Didn't improve at all in the last three years but attending a posh art college? SO ARTSY.

To be honest, I can call someone an artist when the actually created something. For instance Stephen King. Or Stan Lee. Dave McKean. JK Rowling. Those people are real artists. Created characters, whole universes and those creations are beautiful. I write a lot and I WOULD NEVER call myself an artist. I think even if publish my first book I will still be reluctant to call myself an artist or a writer. Those words are big. Too big for me. But for those spoiled, talent-less kids from art schools? NAAAAH. They are REAL artists.

I know one girl like that. And I swear on me mum, I'll break her neck when I meet her. Because there is no way you can be so narcissistic and arrogant, while drawing like a kid from kindergarten.

Gain my vision, Visiongain

The hunt for a well-paid job that isn't prostitution begins. Because I was apparently awesome (lol, nope) I got this email address to this guy from Visiongain who was looking for market researcher to work in London. I got excited and terrified at the same time but thought, well fuck it, I might as well apply. It took me one whole day to write a perfect cover letter and today was the day. I sent the email with my application and the deed was done. In most cases they reply within a week or never, so happy that I did something towards my better future I went to the kitchen and made some tea. I came back and there it was. An email from the guy saying hello there Fox, here is a task for you so I can tell if you're fit for the job.

I got a tiny heart attack, I'm sure of that.

What I'm supposed to do is to write a short summary of an article they gave me. Sounds easy but everything depends on it and oh god, I really want this job. Fingers crossed.
Please, hire me. I want to work in this horrible city of London. I want to earn money and have a decent life.

Meanwhile my supervisor sent me an email. The title was "Coconut power!" and he didn't reply to my inquiry about career advising. Some things never change.

And now, the weather

Apparently I was an awesome student the whole year, despite my paranoid thoughts I sucked most of the time. I might have been one of the best, what suggest being picked for the The Most Promising Market Researcher group, that got an offer for a job in London. Hell, how did this happen? In this golden six there are five native Brits and me - the bundle of stress, nerves and over-sized ambitions.

Well, it's good to see I wasn't that bad this year. Also the farewell parties showed that I was, in fact, the source of energy for the whole course, at least 6 people were desperate to have sex with me and I was generally awesome. It's hard to say if everything I heard was the truth, because we had lots of wine and Jack Daniels during those conversations. I heard unspeakable things. And, with the help of God Almighty, I hope no one recorded the things that were said. Because that's a blackmail material right there.

Autumn came and this is depressing. I also spent the last three days doing nothing and feeling awesome about it. But it is high time for me to write this cover letter to London and pray they give me a well-payed job. And then I can focus on my Very Epic Renaissance English Court Story. Mostly because I want to write about my grumpy king, his very much intense sex life, amazing brother and later on, ever more amazing love story because deep inside I'm a sucker for love stories.

Yes, I confess. I'm a woman and I love romance. Deal with it.

Owner of a lonely life

Ever wanted to have a friend? Don't. Having a friend is a sucky job.

Okay, maybe not always. Maybe having a real friend is great. Sadly, I didn't ever have a real friend. What is a definition of a friend? A person you like? A person that helps you? A person that understands you? A person that you feel comfortable with? I think having a friend is having someone close, who would never ever leave you in need. Do I have a friend? I certainly don't.

Because of Vivas (oral exams, if someone is confused) I had to go back to the UK for a couple of days. My "friend" is there, doing his PhD and he gladly offered that he will let me sleep on his bed, while he will take the couch in the living room. I arrived at the place past midnight, tired as fuck and wanting only to take a shower and go to sleep. What did my "friend" do? While I was taking a shower he simply went to sleep in the bed. When I asked him what the fuck, he graciously threw one pillow on the floor and that was the end of the conversation. I'll give you a moment to process that.

A guy made his friend, who certainly is a woman, sleep on the floor.

I was shocked and outraged. When I told this piece of shit what I think about him he started... crying. Sobbing and weeping like a fucking baby, lamenting on how tired he was, how his life is bad and how he is in constant emotional pain. An adult guy cried like a pansy for over an hour, saying that he will kill himself because he is so miserable. All because I was not so excited about sleeping on the floor when the agreement was different. I gave up and slept on the damned floor, while he was sobbing on a warm and comfy bed.

I described my tragedy to my housemates and in return I got warm sleeping bags and mats. And also the overwhelming impression of victory when every single person looked at my "friend" with disgust. I don't feel sorry for him. I feel that he deserves hell and I'll gladly deliver it to him by first-class post services.

Sadly, that's not the end. I also had a party with my classmates this week, so I was planning to be back home quite late. Excuse me, that was the last time me and my awesome friends would be going out as students, not graduates. So after an amazing night full of unspeakable things (which I will describe in my next entry. I really should make this blog more regular) I got a text from my "friend" that he is not going to open the door for me and fuck you Fox, go sleep on the street. And now we have a perfect example of "How to act like a friend" compared to "How to NOT act like a friend". All of my classmates from the uni offered me a place to sleep. My so-called "friend" was very unhappy that I was having a good time while his fat ass was at home with housemates who despised him.
In the end, he opened the door. And... cried like a fucking pansy for at least two hours because he was so tired, had some meeting on the next day and other, stupid stuff I would never cry about, despite being a woman.

Can you imagine this? A grown up guy crying that someone was mean to him? That his back hurts and because of that he can't sleep on the floor? I don't forbid crying, everyone has to cry from time to time. But this motherfucker cried not because he was ashamed of how he treated me. He wept over his miserable life, of how people are mean to him and how innocent and how abused he is. After this week I came to the conclusion that I have bigger balls than him. And also that it's time to focus on more valuable friends.

I'm back, dear readers. And happy to start a new life with new people and new challenges.

The odds are in my favor and it is fabulous

I was about to write some depressing stuff about flights getting lost at airports and so on but GUYS, I JUST GOT AN EMAIL THAT I DON'T HAVE MY ORAL EXAM. This means I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! No more exams, no more studying, I'm basically a Master of Science and all this happened on Frankfurt airport, when I was waiting for my transferred flight. THANK YOU GERMANY. Even though you gave me only 30 minutes of free wifi, you stingy bastard.

Next stop - Birmingham airport and PARTY.

Kill the whale

Woo, going to UK today! So happy to fly a transferred flight and be there at midnight! So happy to have oral exams! So happy to have no perspectives for my future! So happy I can't even write a proper cover letter!

Someone euthanize me.

So hipster...

Lately life has been a bit shit. Well, maybe not a bit shit, but very shit. Trouble in paradise and stuff like that. But what are problems in comparison to my very own can of Jack Daniel's Coke Whisky? Yes, dear readers, I have bought this beauty yesterday and since then I have been worshiping it endlessly. This makes me a total hipster, because when I saw it in the shop I didn't think "Oh, I really want to drink it!" but "Oh, I will instagram the shit out of this can!". There is no hope left for me.

Currently I'm at the countryside, trying not to freeze to death and going to the woods to find animal carcasses. Nothing new happened, I'm the most boring person in the universe. The only fascinating thing that happened is that we found a Chicken in The Woods mushroom in our fruit garden. And it was delicious.

Vivas next week. Do not want at all. But after that - I'm free. No more studying, no more essays, no more exams and dissertations. Omg, what now?

To war!

The Perfect Natalia, as every perfect creature in this world (not that we have many of them) is very creative. What seems to be useful in her career as graphic designer. He works in a cable company, designing interfaces, billboards and other graphic stuff I can't even name, because I suck at art in every form. But anyway, The Perfect Natalia is also doing some side-projects for extra money. And it's a side project that made me so fucking angry today, that I completely forgot about my shit dissertation, ready to go to war.

For the last month, The Perfect Natalia has been intensely drawing tons of things for one guy, who is in fact, a physicist. Not that I'm prejudiced, but every physicist I met (excluding The Perfect Natalia's sister, who is awesome) was a fucking, slow-witted moron. I was hoping this one would be different but obviously I was wrong. From the very beginning, the guy couldn't decide what he really wanted, and the amount of projects was increasing (what was noted by myself very carefully, because I don't have a heart, I have a tiny, mean accountant in place of it). Maybe you don't know, dear readers, but when you hire a graphic designer it is similar to hiring a taxi driver. Or a hooker. You pay for every minute and every move made. And The Perfect Natalia worked for days and did stacks of projects. So, the physicist was about to hear some dreadful news about the amount of money he has to pay.

Today, our beloved employer called The Perfect Natalia saying, that to be honest, he won't need any of those projects, it was fun, we don't have to pay you, do we? Well, dear Mr. Physicist, you have to pay. Because that's how life looks like. Life is a bitch and from my point of view, you'll soon become mine and The Perfect Natalia's bitch if you start fussing about the price we sent you. So you better bend over and take what you deserve. Because excuse me, last year I successfully destroyed some old hag who also didn't want to pay my Perfect Natalia and I don't mind ruining this guys' life. My inner man roars for blood and I'm ready to mentally rape in the ass, without any lube, with a massive, black cock everyone who stands in our way.

I've reached the point where I should consider consultancy. Or in the more severe cases - organized crime.

Shoot me in the face and sing a victory song

My supervisor finally replied to my email.

At first, when I was reading it I thought "whoa, I'm fucking awesome!". But then after the very positive introduction it changed into "disasters", "wrong statements", "bad data" and "nonsense". Reading the comments causes me physical pain, because there is no way I can fix this. Why? Because I already sent my hard copy of the dissertation to Warwick. Also, when I was sending my supervisor the finished paper A WEEK AGO I clearly stated in my email that I WILL SEND THE HARD COPIES ON MONDAY 26TH OF AUGUST, because they need to be on time and I AM IN POLAND, YOU STUPID, OLD FUCK. He didn't react to that and ruined my life today at 2:37pm.

I'm generally screwed. Because I can't fix anything, because Warwick already has a different version. Also leaving me with ONE DAY to do some major modifications is plain cruel. There is so way I could fix the mistakes, print it and hand it in on time, even if I were in the UK.

After the initial shock that made me scream, cry, break everything, run like a headless chicken, call my Mum, my friends at Warwick, The Perfect Natalia, the prime minister and ultimately, the Pope, I calmed down. Because if I can't fix it, why get paranoid about it? What's done is done, there's nothing I can do about it. So nope, I'm not going to go mental about something that I can't change.

YOLO MOTHERFUCKERS.

Damn you, Warwick - a haiku

Made me pay 120 quid
for printing and sending hard-copies to you
I could live off this money for two months
I hope you burn in eternal fire
Cunt

I need this

This speaks to me on spiritual level. And I want this shirt. Maybe in different colour. But I still want it.

Breathe

The air today smelled of broken hopes, grim ends and children's despair. You could feel the sad atmosphere of ending summer and the faint scent of fear. The fear of responsibilities, failed exams, dead dreams and shit cafeteria food. When I passed a group of teenagers on my way to the grocery store I saw the same blank, distraught stare in their eyes, the same I had every year by the end of summer. I was almost sure they would all burst into tears any moment. But they didn't. They just looked at me, as if they wanted to say "Fuck school, get bitches". Why, my young friends, why would I fuck school when I can fuck The Perfect Natalia instead? I'm way pass school problems. My only problem now is that air smells like the end of everything and that my beer is getting warm.

But I cleaned up the whole house today. And I'm getting more friend points with my neighbor. Today was the second day in a row when she had coffee at my place. We reached the point when I buy her cat food and she shows me her sex toys. Ach, it's good to have a friend again.

So not worth it

Oh my god it's prefect. And oh my god it was so expensive I might consider narrowing my eating habits only to cardboard in the next month.