crappy-desigual

Try Celibacy {crappy b.}

Are you fed up by the silly situations you often find yourself in? Are you sick of living life like a terrible Carry On film or What the Window Cleaner Saw, running through halls in negligées and climbing out of windows in a cheeky bra-and-bloomers combo? Me too! In a sea of beautiful women, fraught with woefully inadequate men, you end up sharing the same shit penises amongst yourselves. But whereas they’re studs, you’re just another dumb hole. After three years in Barcelona, my self-esteem is in tatters, my sense of self in shreds and I struggle to see myself as anything other than a pretty façade for a vagina. So until I love myself, nevermore shall my body be loved: mira some of my top tips for keeping the drawbridge up at Vag Fortress.

    1) Stop drinking and go to Razzmatazz on a Saturday night. You are not allowed to go anywhere except the massive downstairs room where they play the Kaiser Chiefs cut together with Artic Monkeys and you must remain in this room until the very end. Stand on a podium with nineteen-year-olds in checked shirts and take in your surroundings. No one looks very pretty now, do they? Look at what could have happened to you. A lucky escape, no? Seriously, stop drinking.

    2) Dress yourself entirely in Desigual or Custo Barcelona so you look like tasteless upholstery that someone threw up on, devoured and then re-vomited out. People will think you’re a massive cushion and shan’t proposition you.

    3) Women: the only way to avoid being propositioned in the street is my patented “Custo I’m A Cushion” method. If you value your personal style too much to follow this suggestion, next time some delightful chap whistles at you as you Bicing past, try not to stop and do him up against the bins.

    4) Remember how you felt at your birthday party when you realised you should have made t-shirts with “I’VE FUCKED THE BIRTHDAY GIRL!” logos for half the guests? Yep, it wasn’t that good a feeling when you saw a sea of dickheads with approximately half your IQ. Think about that next time you feel a tingle in your mingle.

    5) Introduce past sex partners to beautiful nutters – warning signs are glittering crazy eyes, pathological lying and declarations of love within three weeks! – so that you’ll never be tempted to go there again due to the fear of finding boiled rabbits and horse heads in your bed as well your lasagne. Perhaps faux-reluctantly confess to Ms. Crazy/Beautiful that you’ve slept with her new beau, thus making you an immediate target. You will be so busy fearing for your life, there’ll be no sexy times! Buy some pepper spray though…

    6) Grow out all of your body hair until you resemble a bear and no one can find your pubic region.

    7) Did you get a bonus at work? Treat yourself to an expensive vibrator and never leave your room again. Go top of the range and you’ll never think about those Neanderthals mindlessly bashing your clitoris with their ham-fists again.

    8) Watch Shame once a day for a week. Now you want to bleach your body and your mind.

    9) Finally, David Foster Wallace observed that television is the refuge of those who choose not to bear the emotional cost of interaction with other people, so cultivate a love for a fictional character in your telly box. I’m currently seeing Darryl from The Walking Dead, Mr. Slater from Boardwalk Empire and, doing it a bit old skool, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. McNulty knows I’m not interested anymore.

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