Why I hate celery

I have been living on Earth for a quarter of a century. I wish I could say I had done something worthwhile or truly memorable while I have been living this life, but unfortunately for me and the world at large, I have not much – other than my truly substandard ability to get distracted very easily and my selective deafness – to show for it.

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Other than that, I am much like any other person my age with rather less street-cred (possibly because I just used the phrase street-cred).

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I have a job of no importance and only several friends, all of which I could probably count on two hands (one if I’m feeling particularly self-deprecating).

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I used to be pretty popular in high school – no this does not mean I was a cheerleader, I was raised in England you fool – which only confirms the adage that those who succeed in high school do not necessary do well in the real world.

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The walk of life is a difficult path to tread gracefully…

I quite dislike the real world. It is filled with suffering and abuse and people who use government and tax money to pay for prostitutes.

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I much prefer to read books, watch movies and generally avoid reality altogether.

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I talk a lot and I listen well. I am often mistaken for being much younger than I am because I am fairly vertically challenged and have the fresh face of a confused and yet slightly bemused albino child. I am 16 in my head and 60 in my body and mind.

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Oh goodness, Up makes me so emotional. Give me a minute here…

I am not sure what else anyone would like to know about me. I am an everywoman. Not ‘I’m every woman’ because that is a Whitney Houston song and now you have just depressed yourself because she is no longer around to write songs like that anymore.

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I am no more or less special and unique than any other person and have just as much right as them to produce a blog in which I word-vomit for no rhyme or reason other than to appease the many voices in my head.

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Finally, I hate celery because it’s stringy but not in a good (but bad for you) Cheese Strings kind of way but in a bad (but good for you) over-ripe Avocado kind of way. It was, however, as close as I could get to the already taken phrase ‘Cellar Door’, which I love because it rolls so nicely off the tongue.

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