30 things to do before I'm 30

Showing posts with label Wentworth Miller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wentworth Miller. Show all posts

11.12.06

DAY 14 BITCHES!

Another purely gratuitous pic of the delectable Wentworth I know, but it is loosely related to what I'm about to say, I promise...

This weekend has been nothing short of hellish for no other reason than a lack of nicotine.

Fucking cancer.

I had foolishly thought that once I was past the first week, I would be OK. But alas no...

I don't know why it was so bad, but I assume the cravings that drove me to distraction and forced me to contemplate throwing myself under a bus were due to the fact that I wasn't at work.

Temptation was everywhere and I almost caved after the 13th newsagents I walked past. Everyone seemed to be smoking and all I could think was 'why do they get to smoke and I can't?'

I was miserable and I knew that it would all go away if I just had a cigarette...

But I persevered, worked through it and satiated my cravings with impure thoughts of Mr Miller (see, told you there was a reason for the pic! I swear to God, if I didn't have him to distract me, I would be smoking myself into a coma as I type).

In the end, I had to go home and literally hide. I drew the curtains in the living room and watched season 1 of Prison Break on DVD.

That may be the saddest thing I've ever admitted to and could constitute a cry for help but I don't give a shit.

I gotta do what I gotta do and you gotta do what you gotta do...

So I've made it to day 14, thank God, and I feel great...yay!

God bless you Wentworth Miller!

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1.12.06

Today just gets better...

My stars in the Metro:

Capricorn
Some Capricorns are definitely yearning in secret for a love they cannot, or shouldn't, have. If you're one of them, the yearning goes big today. If not, thank your lucky stars your only celebrity crush is on a celebrity.


Then I read this in the
Holy Moly newsletter:

Sound Of The (30,000 ft) Overground
Which member of pop quintet Girls Aloud recently got tiddly and fiddly with Wentworth Miller - he of the tattooed torso from hit US TV drama 'Prison Break' - during a recent Virgin (the irony) Atlantic flight to LA?

It had been reported in the tabloids that the Irish pop strumpet was on a mercy dash to patch up her on-off relationship with a male star from the biggest TV show in the US.

Apparently our chatty songstress was sitting at the Upper Class bar supping champers when her Lucky Charms were noted by Miller.

After some inevitable flirting and comparison of bank accounts and tattoos, the couple decided to sky-test those really posh beds shown on the adverts (though the adverts only show one person in the bed - and definitely no rimming).

To the annoyance of their fellow passengers, the lady in question is a bit of a 'screamer', and her Catholic background was made fairly obvious by her cries of, "Oh Jesus, oh Mary Mother of God, there, that's the spot" etc. This led to complaints and a red-faced flight attendant was dispatched to ask the lady in question if she could be more... not so loud.

Frolics done, the singer bid her mile-high partner adieu, re-applied her make up, did her hair and hauled her swollen mons off the plane, before racing into the arms of her desperate boyfriend who was waiting at the gate.


*squeal*

Maybe he isn't so gay after all Perez Hilton, you fat fuck.

If that story is true, which I choose to assume it is, then it is proof undeniable that there is a God...WENTWORTH MILLER IS STRAIGHT! And that Nadine Coyle has exquisite taste in men.

Today is like, the best day evah!

Or maybe my stars relate to the boy in the office I fancy, but more of that, and how it effects numer 13 on Monday...

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30.11.06

Day 4: Not killed anyone...yet...

Feeling surprisingly calm today. Managed to get some sleep last night so feel more human. The cravings are still there but are proving less of a distraction. My head's still killing me though.

I'll be honest, I thought I would have caved by now so I'm v.proud of myself. That doesn't mean I won't but I keep telling myself that if I got through the first 72 hours, which are apparently the worst, it's going to get better. (Impure thoughts of Wenthworth Miller are also helping immensely! On my first anniversary of giving up, I shall write him a letter thanking him for the support).

*SCREAM*

Just went into my desk drawer to look for some headache pills and found my emergency pack of cigarettes!

*runs for the hills*

29.11.06

Day 3: Fuck Nicotine

Oh God help me. Today has been *awful*

It would appear that everyone in the world apart from me, is smoking. Everyone I walk past in the street, stand next to at the station, sit next to in a cafe...everyone...

Even Wentworth Miller it would appear (my mate, the smoker, took great pleasure in telling me). Damn, I knew that boy was a bad influence *purs*

And the smell...it's potent...almost hypnotic. I've turned into some sort of cigarette bloodhound, smelling any fag within a 2 mile radius.

God I miss it. I *really* miss it.

But I will be strong. I shall resist. I shall overcome.

*shakes fist at nicotine*

But the insomnia, head aches and profuse sweating are all deterring me from not picking up a cigarette. I swear to God, I am never doing this again. It's hell.

All of this could explain my last post about The Killers. I just re-read it and even I have to admit, I sound like an utter cunt. But I still stand by every word I say. It wasn't a pleasant experience. Although my fight with that Neanderthal may have been some Karmic punishment for telling that bloke to get fucked on the train.

*looks at picture of Earl*
*hangs head in shame*

28.11.06

Number 23: Get in a fight

Day 2 and I'm still not smoking.

How? I don't know. This is what I had to endure yesterday sans nicotine:


1. Monday morning
2. Getting up an hour and a half earlier than I usually would
3. Rain
4. A packed train due to the below
5. Engineering works
6. A 15 minute train journey taking 58 minutes due to the above
7. Late for an important meeting
8. Sitting and being spoken at for 4 hours at said meeting
9. Gig with my best mate, who's a smoker
10. Getting into a fight with a very scary man in Brixton Academy

And I still didn't smoke. I'm a fucking saint. A saint y'hear??!

I really did pick the perfect day to give up didn't I? *sighs and rolls eyes*

Oh well. Going to see The Killers helped, somewhat. They were aces, although their new fans aren't so much.

The Killers, like the Scissor Sisters have always been mainstream but still maintained a slight edge; enough to satiate indie kids like me, who like them cos they're camp and fun but cringe everytime we see their CDs in Tescos.

Well, I can now confirm that The Killers have now lost that tennuous grip on the edge, especially if their new legion of fans are anything to go by.

I *heart* the Killers and always have done. I was there, literally, when Zane Lowe played Mr Brightside on Radio 1 for the first time in 2002. I've seen them live 4 times. I sing 'Andy You're A Star' when I'm shit-faced. I welled up with pride when they did Live 8. When I saw Brandon in a pink leather jacket at their last gig, I actually considered buying one too.

Trust me when I say that I *love* them.

That was the old Killers though. The new Killers take themselves a little too seriously on their new album, Sam's Town which, even after repeated listens, still doesn't bring me the same joy as Hot Fuss. And When You Were Young, despite the 'you sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy...' lyric reminding me of Wentworth Miller, still sounds like Meatloaf.

So I wasn't particularly looking forward to the gig especially as the last time I went to see them, I had such a good time. I was drunk on cocktails and danced my tits off (yes, danced. I *never* dance at gigs, I always stand at the side, nodding) I lost one of my favourite earrings and my mate lost his mobile phone but it was still the best gig evah!

I didn't want anything to sully the memory so when my mate and I were offered £150 each for our tickets by tout, we were sorely tempted.

But such is our love for La Flowers that we didn't sell them and headed into Brixton Academy with high expectations and bellies full of Nandos and beer.

The Rapture were supporting who are amazing. We'd seen them before and loved them so it was a great start. Lots of dancing and singing along, which was a welcome distraction from the nictotine cravings.

When lights came on, there was the usual surge forward, which we dodged by standing by the side and when The Killers eventually walked on stage the crowd of course went nuts.

A little too nuts. There was lots of pushing and shoving and outright barging to get closer to the stage, not that my mate and I were in anyone's way standing at the side, but such was the eagerness to get to the front that it would appear that the whole of Brixton Academy wanted to be where we were standing.

That's to be expected for a big band like The Killers though, but when it didn't settle down after the first couple of songs, it began to wear thin.

Yes, I expect the usual to-ing and fro-ing to the bar or toilets, that's all part of going to a gig, but when you're being literally shoulder barged out of the way by a 6'2" 18 stone bloke, it's not a pleasant experience.

I didn't mention that did I? Yes, it would appear that The Killers largely gay and female fan base have [sarcasm]evolved[/sarcasm] into rude, aggressive, larger-swilling blokes who seemed to think that they were at Upton Park not Brixton Academy (see also: Kasabian fans *shudder*).

Not nice.

Also not nice, when one of them barged past my mate, knocking her flying (she actually spun round and did a 360, dropping her pint in the process). I of course, starved of nicotine and irritated by the whole experience told him to watch it. At which point he turned round.

'What tha fuck did you say t'me?' He grunted.
'I told you to watch it. You nearly knocked my mate over.'
'I didn't fucking touch her!'
'Yes you did!'
'No I fucking didn't!'
'Please.' I said, making praying hands, it would appear that sign language was required as he obviously didn't fully understand English. 'I'm just saying, watch where you're going.'
'FUCK OFF!' He literally spat and lunged at me, eyes crossed.

I honestly thought he was going to hit me but luckly my mate was inbetween us, so he didn't. He just made a rude hand gesture, told me to fuck off again and strutted off, knuckles dragging behind him, like a fat Liam Gallagher.

Granted, my mouth has been known to get me into trouble in the past, but with hindsight and looking at it as impartially as I can, his reaction was a little aggressive and if I was a bloke, he would have definitely hit me.

Cunt.

And representative it would seem of The Killers new fan base (in London at least) who didn't so much sing along as chant (when they left the stage, I half expected the crowd to start chanting 'You're not singing anymoooooooore!!') and of course went mental for the hits (Mr Brightside, When You Were Young and All These Things) but were annoyingly quiet for the far superior Indie Rock and Roll.

Fucking mongs.

I realise I probably sound like a snob, and maybe I am, but while the band were great (and just as camp as ever...thank God!) the atmosphere had changed. It wasn't as fun as it has been in the past. The crowd were mostly men and a lot older, and drunker. Being shoved about and getting into fights with blokes twice my size, isn't my idea of fun.

Needless to say, I won't be going to see The Killers again. As I always say, when the Gays leave the party, it's time to call a cab.

But still, I got to cross something off the list: Number 23. Get in a fight

I fear I may be crossing that one off more than once though...

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27.11.06

Day 1: My Nicotine Hell



Oh God save me. Why did I say that I was going to give up smoking?

Fucking list.

At exactly 11.27pm last night, I had my last taste of that sweet, sweet nicotine.

For anyone that knows me, this is no mean feat. I'm not ashamed to admit (although I probably should be) that I *love* smoking. It's the only thing I'm good at and I'm not one of these people who constantly moans about wanting to give up. I actually *enjoy* smoking, and not just because it makes me look cool and smell *grate*, but because it makes me happy.

Sad but true.

But it's on the fucking list and I don't want to go into my 30s a smoker so here I am, all patched up and anxiously gnawing my way through a pack of gum.

I knew it would be hard but fuck me! Didn't sleep a wink last night, I'm irritable, my head is killing me and my sides ache.

This is hell. I hope it gets better. It has to.

Emailed my friends earlier warning them that I've given up and I fear I may murder someone so one of them will probably need to supply alibi. I wish I was joking.

The withdrawal mood swings are crazy.

Had to get up at some ungodly hour this morning to make it into work for a four hour (yes four hour) departmental meeting. Of course it was raining and the train was late, and packed, and crawled all the way to Waterloo because of engineering works.

To make matters worse, the well-dressed man who was sitting opposite me on the train had the audacity to ask me to turn my iPod down because we were sitting in a 'Quiet Zone'. I did but not before telling him to 'get fucked' under my breath.

Luckily he didn't push it, he could probably sense that I was on the verge of beating him to death with my umbrella.

I swear to God, if I had a gun, I would have shot him in the face.

Talking of violent behaviour, season 2 of Prison Break and most notably Wentworth Miller, are proving to be a rather delicious distraction.

If I never smoke again can I have him please?

Now that would be an incentive to give up...

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