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I am basically obsessed with watching Youtube beauty gurus, but rarely wear more make-up than a bit of mascara. I don’t even own foundation.
I listen to Harmontown every night to help me fall asleep.
Despite Now You See Me 1&2 being highly questionable movies, I would totally go to see a third, because I am in love with Daniel Atlas. Apparently arrogant, emotionally unavailable magician is my type.
I am totally bemused by the blogging community’s response to cheating in YA.
I meet a lot of guys who like to give me unsolicited life advice – usually without knowing me at all. The response I always want to give runs along the lines off pleasefuckoffthankyou. Instead, I usually smile, say nothing and hate myself for it.
Sometimes I feel like the things that I care about in life are beginning to shift considerably, and I’m not sure how the new concerns and old concerns are going to live together.
I have been known to classify a certain type of YA story as ‘suicide books’ in my head. I feel bad about this.
I read My Life On The Road by Gloria Steinem a few weeks back. It was probably one of the most incredible books I have ever read, and I feel like my reviewing skills are too inadequate to even attempt to have a meaningful discussion about it. Watch this space, I guess.
I once bit a chunk out of a drinks coaster because I thought it was a biscuit. It was during a meeting with mum was having with my brother’s school principle. He had briefly left the room and I guess I saw it as my opportunity. I should add I was a toddler at the time.
I am re-watching Scrubs right now and have realised that Doctor Cox and I share a similar worldview.