Your stupidity is going to kill you

I was going to write a one-liner about how I am not going to write anything until I have more exciting things to say than "Oooh I am living in a random staircase" or "Oooh I read the Affluent Society, it was very interesting". But not only would that be pointless and self-defeating (as clearly I AM writing about those things), but it would also be false.

It is false because I would also like to say that I watched some random BBC three program about people getting beauty treatments GONE HORRIBLY WRONG (yes, I did theoretically have better things to do. Yes, I watched it anyway. Deal with it.) And I would like to say right now that I am very glad that I am not beautiful in any way, shape or form because... well. What the fuck. Eyelash perms? Daily tanning sessions? Fat injections? Back facials (Oxymoronic AND moronic!)? And my earlobe piercings have never given me strokes. So I am obviously generally superior. Although to be fair, they could show the horrific dangers of armpit shaving and I'd be sitting there going "haha I win!"

On the minus side, my hair is probably going to fall out from dye and I am seconds away from developing horrific bunions. And I am fat and unfit and my armpits have hair*. So even I lose. Tear. Still, no strokes yet. And I am not having to dream up methods to smuggle my non-existent hair straighteners into Oxford, and can thus spend my time thinking of imaginative alternatives to blu-tack. Hmmm...

*I refuse to say "I have hairy armpits", because that would be a lie. If I had shrubbery down there, rest assured I would be removing it. I don't, so I don't. Hooray for logic!