Give it some heart :)

Okay, I am okay, I am okay. So Lalita just posted a must anticipated letter to CG. (if you have been living under a rock or haven't read the blog before, CG stands for a certain cute guy in our lectures. Head over to our first post to find out more) . I must say it's quite something. It made me laugh until I started crying, like in one place she said:
"you’re a trainee priest avoiding the temptation of women"
OK, you had to be there. It's too long to explain and I wouldn't ruin a surprise (well I tend to, but still like just a few weeks ago I accidently posted Lalita's surprise birthday plans on general facebook thread, OK enough about that)
So here you go
http://lettersfromthelakes.blogspot.com/2011/02/open-letter-to-cg.html

Much love
Emm xx

We're Gonna Party Like It's Your Birthday

Wednesday February 23rd 2011

As I write this the time has passed 2am, but I feel that I have to get it out before the spirit of things is lost forever to the past, to decaying memories and to...other stuff. Today, the 23rd February 2011, or yesterday if you want to be incredibly pedantic (and I don’t encourage that, stop it now please!), was the end of the world. Ok call me a liar; you probably know it wasn’t the end since you’re sitting reading a blog. That’s just not end of the world behaviour. Not that I’m an expert on such things, seeing as how the world has never actually ended before. However, I have it on good authority from Hollywood blockbusters that after an apocalypse, survivors never turn around and go “Hey have you still got wifi? I totally have to update my Facebook relationship status to ‘It’s complicated’- I hate Bob for getting eaten by those aliens!”...

Continued on Saturday 26th February 2011

... Alright, so it wasn’t the end of the world for everyone, just me because I’m special (don’t even say it, I know what you’re thinking). There weren’t any aliens though and I’m sure Bob is fine because there was just a birthday. A 21st birthday to be precise. To be a little more precise it was my 21st birthday, which is actually a little too precise for me as I’m really trying to repress that information. I’m not exactly one of these people who goes clubbing or drinking or out...at all. I’m kind of an indoors person (nice way of saying I have no social life), and pretty much teetotal (that might explain the social life), so turning 21 has no significance to me, other than it being another year closer to old age and death. Sorry to put a downer on things, but I’m just saying it the way I see it right now. When I finished 6th form, I decided to take a gap year. I hate studying (ask the Lakes), so I wasn’t exactly motivated to rush right into 4 more years of it. I got a job at Emily’s shopping heaven (Boots) and worked there for nine months. If there was anything to convince me that 4 more years of studying was exactly what I wanted, working in retail full time was definitely it. I commend anyone who does it; you deserve medals, because I could not have endured even one more month than I did. So I started university and met the Lakes and the rest, as they say, is history. Except! Except now I’m one year older than all of them, and if you’ve been paying any attention, if you’re at all cognisant of the world around you, you’ll realise that my birthday is in February. February is a wonderful month, the best month, Primus inter pares as they would say in politics (hey, I learned something in Gov and Pol, go me!). However, it is also near the start of the year, so I'm not only a year but a year and a bit older than the rest of the Lakes. Emily, the youngest of the Lakes, takes great joy in reminding me of this at every opportunity. Take this example of one of our conversations in the days leading up to D-Day (the wording isn’t exact as I’m going on memory, but the sentiment is entirely correct)

Emily- “You’re going to be 21 in a few days time; I’m still 19.”

Lalita- “You’ll be 21 soon too, and then I’ll tease you about it.”

Emily- “Yeah, but then you’ll be 23, and I’ll still find that funnier.”

Lalita- “I’m going to kill you.”

How can a girl possibly feel anything but dread about turning 21 when she has ‘friends’ such as these? At the end of the day however, it wasn’t quite the horror I imagined it would be, which is not saying that I’d like to repeat the experience anytime soon. Emily, quite bizarrely, dragged me to the Tate Modern ‘Art’ Gallery on the South Bank in London. If you haven’t been, don’t bother, I can assure you that you’re really not missing out on anything. Unless your idea of ‘anything’ is to stand in front of some ‘art’ and go “Huh, I really don’t get it.” If it is, then you should totally go. Totally! But don’t say I didn’t warn you, cause I so did and I will gloat about it, you can be sure of that. While we were out, my shoes got wet and dyed my feet purple (traitorous things, after all the love and devotion I give them), and I made a few very bad home (away from home) movies, much to camera person Emily’s delight. Then I returned home and went out for food and cake and worrying that everyone invited would get along with each other. All in all, a typical birthday I would imagine.

And now, what’s done is done, I see no point dwelling on the subject one second longer, and I shall spend the next 361 days of my life pretending that it’s not going to happen again. Until it inevitably does.

“God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference”- Serenity Prayer


Love, Lalita xxx

When I Get you Alone- Anatomy of a song

And Amanda said with the weirdest expressions " Don't say that, there are people around ", not that I was saying it to her. Before anyone starts having wrong thoughts, I shall reveal that this a is a line from a song called "When I get you alone" by Robin Thicke. I, however heard it first on the all-famous Glee. Anyone who knows me would know that I love, love , love Glee ! I have previously managed to convert Amanda and Lalita to Glee-ism, Kathleen however is resistant. She will soon come around, I believe that. Anyway, the awesomeness of Glee cannot be explained in an entry that include another topic so I'll just go ahead and unravel the dilemma of " Anatomy of a song"
I was walking to library ( no this is not the dilemma, It very well could be though) and i was listening to this song for what could be the 20th time (in an hour slot). I still don't understand how I could have missed the words. Anyway, I was walking over the bridge (Flashbulb memory !! ?? ) when I kinda paid attention to the words other than "When i get you alone" and they go something like this

Baby girl, where you at?

Got no strings, got men attached

Can't stop that feelin' for long no

You makin' dogs wanna beg

Breaking them off your fancy legs

But they make you feel right at home, now

If you pay attention to the words highlighted in a mustard-y colour, you might find your self as flabbergasted as I found my self to be. Now I am not very familiar with most of the English slang words ( and I wouldn't like to be) but I am sure the word "dog" implies " the domesticated form of grey wolf, as both feral and pet varieties" ( Cited in Wikipedia )? Unless its "Dawg" which I have only heard from Randy Jackson on American idol, which by the way I should add , goes over my head. What does it mean?? like "dawg as in you are cool" or "dawg as in you are my pet". Mysteries!!!!!
OK, so back to the lyrics, If someone sang that to me (and hopefully I would have understood the lyrics the first time ) I would have slapped them because I would be insulted. Why would dogs beg to cling to someones legs??. I definitely don't want to know what's going on in that dog's mind. Freud, however would be full of answers (too bad he is not alive to answer) And the most important question of all, How do dogs "clinging" to her legs make her "feel right at home". I have to be missing something.

Another verse goes something like this

Baby girl you da shit

That makes you my equivalent

What !!!! that doesn't even make any sense. "you da shit" ????, i seearched for the word "da" thinking maybe its one of those words that is unknown to me but I came up with a lot things that cannot be substituted in this sentence like:

• Dark ages
• Department of agriculture
• Da! a russian youth mocement :S

I seriously don't understand if he is trying to impress the girl or insult her because frankly I feel its the latter. When I heard it the first time I thought he said

" Baby girl you just shhhh
That makes you my equivalent"

As in that he is speechless by her beauty and if she keeps quite as well, that would make her his equivalent ???. Clearly I was wrong and I know it now.
I could be mistaken in to thinking that he like this girl, he could actually be trying to insult her or something. I am very disappointed actually, i think they don't make meaningful songs anymore, or maybe they do and I just don't understand it.
If you have more knowledge on this topic than I have, then feel free to comment and let me know if:

a. I am an idiot, this is SO not what the lyrics mean
b. Am I seriously telling you that I have just heard this song?
c. I actually make a good point
d. Glee is super cool and I am super cool to watch it

Please be nice :) But hey, I still love the song. The music is too cool and it makes me want to dance. And most importantly The Warblers sang it (In Glee).

So I pray to something she aint bluffin',

Rubbin' up on me

Well does she want me to make a vow?
Well does she want me to make it now?

On my house, on my job

On my loot, shoes, my voice,
My crew, my mind, my father's last name?

When I get you alone

The Dazed and Confused
Emily xxx

P.s I can so picture CG singing this song, he has this (very debatable) attitude problem which would totally go with the lyrics

It's a Lake life

Here’s a little Lake nursery rhyme for you. Evil comes in 1’s. Shoes come in 2’s. Bad luck comes in 3’s. Weird things come in 4’s. Or rather, weird things happen when 4 come together (the 4 in this instance referring to the Lake’s in case you’re a bit...um, special). Some good situations, some bad, but if there's one thing you can be sure of, they are definitely always weird; controversies, losses and some rather disturbing (and hence unmentionable) things.  It's not that we don't want to tell you, we're honestly not that selfish, but trust us when we say it's for your own good. All the Lake’s have, rather unfortunately, passed the point of insanity, but we’re optimistic that there might still be some hope for you. The fact that you’re reading this blog in the first place doesn’t speak too well for your mental health though, so if you’re here, you may as well come on the journey with us. Or leave and go and see a therapist. Either way, don’t be too scared. As always, we have used initials and fake names where appropriate to protect the ‘innocent’, either because we don’t know these people in real life (you’d be amazed how often that happens) or because our given title suits them better. The Lake’s are never wrong, alright? So if you’re a newcomer or just have a tendency to get confused like me, head on over to our first post and have a little refresher course. Relive the days when we were young, naive and the good times rolled. Ahh well, nothing lasts forever, so let’s proceed.

I have learned recently from very reliable sources (Emily and Amanda) that Emily was giving a certain CG evil glances in a lecture last Thursday when ¾ of the Lake’s (basically everyone but Emily) were mysteriously absent. Hmm, how did that happen? *Whistles and tries not to look suspicious*. I was...well, I’m sure I’ll think of a really good excuse after I’ve posted this. Isn’t that always the way? Anyways, apparently she was sitting in an empty row when he thought about sitting beside her. Emily, however, is a fearsome creature, and one look from her sent him scuttling to another row. Poor boy. So I would like to dedicate a line from a song from Emily to CG (even though she’s gonna kill me, it’s worth it)

“Sticks and stones will break your bones and leave you lying in the mud,

But you get scared when we’re alone, like I’m gonna suck your blood.”- The Pierces, ‘Sticks and Stones’ (good song, check it out)

Emily also now claims that CG doesn’t wash his clothes and never changes them, which is perhaps the reason she has no desire to sit next to him. I think ‘the lady doth protest too much’ if you ask me (not that anyone did, but I’m allowed to be rhetorical sometimes!). She must spend a lot of time focused on him, because I couldn’t tell you what he wears from one week to the next. As I’ve mentioned to my Lake’s, and I’m sure Amanda will back me up on this one, I've never really noticed anything below his neck. He's not called CG for nothing you know.

Moving swiftly on, we’ve made a new friend (quite literally!), she’s our very own creation, and her name is Bobbette (no last name, just like Pink or Madonna). In all actuality, she’s Kathleen's creation because we would rather not take credit for how Bobbette has ended up, despite what Kathleen may say about us all contributing. She’s so special she’s even got her own post on this blog now (that’s when you know you’ve made it as a friend of the Lake’s), so if you’re interested in meeting her, why don’t you head over to her entry now. Be prepared for a big surprise, but don’t be scared. There’s always the Jeremy Kyle show if that therapist doesn’t work out for you.

Finally, and least importantly, yesterday I lost my portable telephonic device, also known as a Blackberry Curve 8520. At first, I was kind of upset, but then I realised that in the grand scheme of things, it’s really nothing at all. Yes, I’m incredibly fortunate to have insurance, but even if I didn’t, you know what, I won’t die. It suddenly occurred to me after about 45 minutes of moping, that I still have my wonderful Lake’s (and even Bobbette), I have fun with them, and what’s a phone if you’ve got no friends to text or call? And I would like to thank them for all being supportive during my hour of need, and being there generally, doing stupid things with me.

“I like the face you make and when you dance with me.

I like the rules you break and when you dance with me.

I like the cake you bake and when you dance with me.

I like the chance you take so won't you dance with me?

I don't know why, I love you.

I just know I can't stop thinking of you

OH WAIT

It's cause you make me smile

You always make me smile”- Kyle Andrews, ‘You Always Make Me Smile’

Wishing you the best (almost) Lake life, (you can’t have it exactly because you are not a Lake, so there!)

Love, Lalita xxx (with contributions from the enchanting Emily)

7 is the lonliest number

One thing you should probably know. Emily may be the youngest Lake, she may be the smallest, but she is scary as hell when she wants to be. She’s also taken a very unhealthy interest in the welfare and continuation of this blog, which is probably a good thing, because Kathleen and I are so laid back that if we were put in charge the world would probably stop turning before we did anything about, well...anything. It does mean, however, that when she makes any ‘friendly suggestions’ about the blog, you’d better listen up. She’s kind of like the Godfather in that respect, and let’s just say that I like horse’s heads attached to their bodies, thank you very much. Also, blood is almost impossible to wash out. So when she suggested that maybe I should split my latest post into two, of course I hurried straight over here to correct my error! You see, what you are about to read was previously included in the post regarding Bobbette the transvestite prostitute, however she really is too special to be fighting for attention in her own post, so this had to be moved. How silly of me to even make such an amateur mistake.

Where to begin? At the beginning I hear you cry. But who likes to be boring? Not me, that’s for sure, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be a Lake, so I will start right in the middle with... sevwo! For those not in the know (that’s pretty much anyone who isn’t a Lake) it’s actually pronounced sev-oo. You probably think I’ve lost my marbles by this point, but please bear with me a teensy bit longer and at least let me explain. A few weeks ago, I decided to raise awareness on behalf of the poor number 7. My campaign didn’t really get very far; ok, it didn’t get beyond the Lake’s personal message thread on Facebook, but I had good intentions. I swear. I feel that there are certain numbers, such as 7, that do a lot of hard work in everyday life: 7 days of the week, 7 Wonders of the World, 7 continents, 7 Harry Potter books, 7 series of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Gilmore Girls.

Yet even after all that, 7 just doesn’t get the recognition it deserves. An example: in shops, prices always end in 0, 5 or 9 (or at least they did, until the VAT increase) and many still do regardless of VAT. I do understand the psychology behind pricing something at 99p rather than £1 (I suffered through 3 excruciating years of business studies at GCSE and A-level, much to my dismay) but I still don’t think it’s right. The general population are not stupid. Newsflash to businesses: anyone who got past year 6 in school usually understands that they are only saving 1 penny, and most people I know (adults with actual money, not impressionable children) are not overly thrilled by that prospect. It’s not working anymore people, you need a new angle! So why not have prices ending in 7? It may not have all the mind-melding, psycho powers of the 9, but at least it might get people interested in your products again. Even better, end prices with a 3. That will really mess them up. People might even be shocked enough to buy the product. And as we all know, shopping is always a good thing.

At this point, you’re probably still wondering what this has to do with sevwo, and I am on the brink of revealing all; be patient! During my 7 craze, all of the Lakes were having a conversation on Facebook, when Emily and Kathleen logged off. Amanda commented that it was just the 2 of us, and still on my 7 roll, I joked that she meant 7. Long story short, I said if you squash the top of a 2 flat, and cut the bottom off, it becomes a 7. Please don’t ask me where the hell I get this stuff from because I honestly have no idea. I’m actually frightened of my brain sometimes because it’s a scary place to be. As it is a 2/7 hybrid, Amanda suggested calling it sevwo (as in seven two), and that’s how it came into being. There is no moral to this story, because I am no Aesop, I’m not that smart, but can you please just spare a thought for the neglected numbers every once in a while? Boycott 0, 5 and 9, the Jordan’s and Victoria Beckham’s of the numerical world (far too much exposure in relation to their actual levels of talent or usefulness).

So here's to 7, may it bring good luck to you

"Fall seven times and stand up eight.”- Japanese proverb

7 loving creature
Love, Lalita xxx

Meet Bobbette, the transvestite prostitute

So many random things have been happening recently, and I keep meaning to blog about them, but I never get around to it for some strange reason. Laziness. Sleep. Procrastination. Writer’s block. Vampire Diaries. Being Human (The TV show, not the state of actually being a human, although that does apply to me as well. Maybe. Sometimes it really doesn’t feel like it.) Anyway, pick your excuse of choice, delete as applicable blah blah blah and let’s get on with it.  Just a warning though, I have so many things to say that I fear this may turn into an essay. Continue reading at your own peril, and don’t say you weren’t warned.  

First on the agenda would have to be Bobbette the transvestite prostitute. That is, after all, the title of my post and it’s only fair to leave you hanging for so long.  This is a long-ish story and you are more than welcome to leave at any time you want. To paraphrase one of our wonderful (not even being sarcastic here!) lecturers, if you want to go for a wee wee you don’t have to put up your hand, just go quietly. I think the same rules should apply if you want to run away in terror. So Bobbette, where did it all go wrong??? In our 9 am lecture, I was separated from the rest of the Lake’s by some thoughtless person who had previously stuck a big wad of chewing gum to the back of the chair. Thanks a bunch, loser! Obviously, neither Emily nor I wanted to sit there, so I was like a little island, while Amanda, Kathleen and Emily formed the mainland. They were Asia and I was Sri Lanka, if that makes it easier for you to imagine. It proves that John Donne was wrong though when he said that “No man is an island” (I know I’ve taken that quote way out of context. I also know that I don’t care.), because I so was, bobbing there all on my own like the leftovers. Not that I’m a man, but I feel that in today’s politically over-correct times, he would have been placed under immense pressure to change that to ‘no being of any gender, race, ethnicity, weight, height or unspecified difference is an island'.
Anyway. The point is, I felt there was a huge gap between Emily and I, and I wanted to fill it. So on an A4 piece of paper, where I should have been making notes (I never said the lecture was that good, and I was doped up on strong painkillers) I drew a stickman called Bob, gave him some hair, eyes, nose and a mouth, and sat him down in the empty chair. Gap solved. Then Kathleen got her paws on my lovely drawing, and he was never the same again. S/he now looks like a serious candidate for a psychiatrist, or even the Jeremy Kyle show- and that’s when you know you’ve hit rock bottom. Does Graham the therapist actually ever help anyone? Ever??? Get in touch with the Lake's if he’s helped you out.

Back to Bob. He’s still Bob underneath, but Bobbette is his alter ego and it appears for the time being, she’s here to stay. Like cockroaches. And global warming. She still has a hairy body, including a monobrow because she is still technically a man. Which doesn’t explain why s/he has lady bumps on top (you know what I’m talking about). I think Kathleen has become even more confused than usual. We also decided she, Bobbette not Kathleen, has to be a prostitute, because that is very clearly prostitute makeup. Not that I/we have any personal experience with prostitutes, but we have imaginations. And semantic memories (I do pick stuff up in lectures, despite what y’all may think!). Although I’m not sure who would ever be desperate enough to hire her. She might just have to go back to being plain old Bob and be done with it. So that’s the life and times of Bob/bette, the transvestite prostitute. She’s had a hard life and can clearly look forward to several years of intensive therapy, can we not judge her too harshly please? Many thanks.

OK, now it's time for something that has absolutely no relevance whatsoever to anything I've been talking about, but nevertheless something that has kept me in a good mood most of the day today. It's from a song that's about 2 years old, but I just heard it last night while re-watching the Vampire Diaries. I think this is one of the most genius lyrics I have ever heard:

"Tell your boyfriend,

If he says he's got beef,

That I'm a vegetarian,

And I ain't f***ing scared of him."- 3oh!3 'Don't Trust Me'

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and so too must this post.


"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."- Ralph Waldo Emerson ( Do you think he knew Bobbette too?)


Love, Lalita xxx