Where is the Love? Here is the love! Show me the love!

Get your own valentinr

Was the five o'clock shadow there before?

I honestly don't know where I find the time to do things like this, what with the three jobs and the hectic social life and all (Social life? Where? Catch it!), but somehow I managed to squeeze it in between cleaning my laptop keys and de-linting the washing machine. I give you this. And these, the results. Or, as I like to call it, 'Lucy, if...'. You may call it Ugly-Picture-Post, I don't care. But know that if you do, I won't love you quite as much as I do the other kids.



Here I am, the original hottie. Yes, yes, I know; my beauty has sent you into a tailspin of depression. I get that a lot. There's a reason I'm known around these parts as 'Tramore's resident Goddess'. Also 'Tramore's favourite whory daughter' but that's only in certain very distasteful circles.

Now: Baby Lucy!


Zoinks!, as everyone's favourite dog-detective would say. The cuteness is giving your cavities cavities.

Lucy the younger:


Oh yes. What an adorable (if oversized) brow! Those fabulous blue eyes, how they sparkle with intellect and charm! I can see this child lolling on piano stools with black velvet bows in her hair in some novel. Someone once told me I had an historic countenance, actually. Whether that meant consumptive or just merely 'before the age of cosmetic surgery', I never got to find out.

Lucy the teenager:


Woah. Back, hormones. What's with the ears? Do teenager's ears pop out like that, like Dumbo's? Yeeesh. Stop scowling like that, young wan. Up to your room and read some more Sylvia Plath with ya.

And, brace thy loins, Lucy the Elder:


I can't say this in a nice way so I'll just say it: this looks scarily like my mother.

Now for the nice part: Artists impressions. First, Mucha:


I think I can safely say that Mucha is pretty much my favourite person right now. So pretty! Can I have this one for my driver's licence? Dependent on me actually getting one, obvs.

Botticelli:


Dude. I hate that guy.

Modigliani:


That guy is so never painting my portrait.

Now the funness. East-Asian:


West-Asian:


Afro-Caribbean:


God, I'm lucky I was born white.

And finally, the one all you ladies have been waiting for, Lucy as a boy:



Wow. I would totally fancy myself if I were a boy. Maybe not in the girly blouse and with all the hair though. Seriously, put your hands up to your monitor and cover up the hair. And, um, the ears. Hubba-hubba. Male-Lucy, I adore you.

CAUTION: Fuck-ups and unabashed pleading contained herein

I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but somehow my laptops gone horizontal on me. And I can't switch it back. And before you ask, no, turning it off and on again didn't work. Nor did blinking hard and saying 'ta-da!'. So you could say I've exhausted all reasonable avenues. What to do, what to do. Come on nerds, muster your wisdom and advise me! You've got to be of some use to me, otherwise what am I keeping ye on the books for? Please? I'm developing an aggressive crick in my neck.

And no snotty remarks about my wallpaper, k? I mean it, shitheads. No, you grow up. No, you. Stop calling me pretentious or I'll tell Mom.

Everyday I learn something new

Note to self: when one complains for hours about excessive heat and stiffling conditions in work environment, do not go on to claim one closed fire-escape door because of excessive chill, thus locking lovely and entertaining new co-worker engaged in breaktime cigarette outside in drafty alley for fifteen minutes and forcing aforementioned lovely co-worker to climb wall and knock on canteen window for assistance. Such behaviour might be considered contradictory and one could be mistakenely thought to be possessing malicious intent towards lovely co-worker. Such behaviour might, possibly, inspire lovely co-worker to put horrible things in one's possibly pretentious herbal tea. Possibly.