Beginnings and bellybuttons

So I have decided to start a blog. Well, not so much decided as been nagged into it by my already-blogging chums, guilt-tripping me about how lonely they are in cyber-space blogosphere without me. So here I am chums. Thing is, I have absolutely no idea how to begin a blog, so lets kick it off with some facts about me shall we children? Not lame facts about my hair colour and star-sign though (just as well, as I’m only completely sure of one out of two). I’ll try and make these as intriguing/unexpected as possible, sooo here we go:

1. I have my bellybutton pierced the wrong way round. I got it done in a dodgy tattoo parlour… the nice lady with the giant needle asked me if I wanted it above or below my bellybutton as if they were equal and interchangeable options, and well… how was I supposed to know?! I was only doing it to piss my parents off. And in the vague hope it would make my stomach look less like a baby white whale. Anyway, she did it below the bellybutton (incidentally the most painful place to be pierced beside the tongue and genitals, while the ‘normal’ kind is the least painful) and that is how I came to be in the 0.6% of the pierced population with a ‘lower bellybutton’ piercing. It looks really shit.

2. I almost lost my virginity at the top of a multi-story car park in the rain. However, just as we were about to, ahem – ‘get down to it’, I looked up and saw a security camera swing round on its metal neck to watch us, like a mechanical hawk. Seriously, it was horrifying. It freaked me out almost as much as the thought of the fat security guard smiling serenely to himself while watching us in his little camera-den, hands wandering in his large pants, so I used my own wandering hands to start pointing and shrieking. Needless to say, I refused to go any further and ended up losing my virginity in my bed like a normal person. Guess that makes me a prude.

3. When drunk, I try to be reasonable. This makes no sense, as I never make any attempt to be reasonable, level-headed or in any way logical when sober, yet the minute you get some bracardi down me I’m all ‘Guys, maybe we should – WHOOPS – ow! Who put put that bottle there?! Wha.. no I didn’t! Mines over there! HAAAW HA you’re drunk! No seriously though, maybe you should stop drinki- who drew a penis on his face? HA! No, not funny.’

4. I could not live without music, but my music taste varies wildly and seems to confuse people. They’ll be in the middle of ripping the shit out of me for owning all of eminems albums when they discover I also have country ballads by a guy in a cowboy hat. And the soundtrack to scrubs. And several songs in hindi. They hand the ipod back in bewildered silence.

5. I have a strong and deep-rooted hatred for the high school musical films and all associated merchandise. Particularly the soundtracks. This is not helped by my sister playing them loudly almost every morning in the room next door. I have tried to scratch the CDs, but, much like the creepy ‘teenage’ (read: twenty-something) cast who are now all launching solo careers, they are indestructible and selfishly refuse to die. Disney has really let itself down. Remember ‘Dumbo’?! I do, and I for one think Zac Effrons attractiveness (and indeed interestingness) could benefit hugely from a large pair of flying ears. Not a role next to a dragged-up John Travolta in an equally crap film

6. The picture of me on my provisional drivers licence makes me look like a serial killer having an exceptionally bad hair-day. I say this not because it is particularly interesting, but because it is lying right next to me (staring up at me) and I’m running out of spontaneous and entertaining facts about myself.

7. I have officially run out of spontaneous and interesting facts about myself (for now). Peace out (for now).