I have to say, Bubble O’Bills are one of the most disappointing childhood revisits I’ve ever experienced. What the fuck is this?!
I don’t believe I ordered a sad jewish clown.
Other things that topped the list:
- tic tocs
- skirt pants
- Grease (but not Grease 2… that is still fucking outrageous)
That is all.
I’ll be the first to admit I have a bizarre obsession with Pinterest. Theoretically I should hate this virtual pin board with every fibre of my being but the chevron loving, Mason jar owning “crafternooner” inside me can’t resist its siren song. Please note; I still fucking hate all that ridiculous nail art.
I guess I bring this up to explain my recent Facebook spamming of all things DIY Christmas. And by all things, I really just mean one thing – salt dough.
I love them, I love them like small salty children that I will ultimately throw away and forget about. But I love them all the same.
In an effort to more productively use my down time (and let’s face it, squander my hours at work), I decided that starting a blog was a capital idea. With my (metaphoric) pen in hand, I prepared to enter the world of digital self rumination and global reflection. What I hadn’t realised was that this compulsion had already overcome me not 4 years prior.
This was a previous compulsion that clearly didn’t last that long, as I was treated to singular post that served as a sobering insight into the mind that was 22 year old Sharidan. Needless to say, like a forgotten childhood diary, the solitary entry I posted all those years ago was filled with a truly glittering cluster-fuck of overused ellipses, sassy remarks about Oprah and a possibly tasteless joke regarding the 2004 Tsunami.
Fastforward 5 years, and I write this armed with the knowledge that future Sharidan will hold the same sentimate I currently harbour towards my past self (self loathing and a general undertone of “oh no she di’int”.
And so, I re-enter the blogosphere – well aware that this will probably be a glorious flash in a hipster-filled pan.