Rinses Dairies

I'm trying out a new font...given that I have a touch of writer's block, I feel it can only help the creative juices flow. I'm not really feeling this font though. I feel like this font should be read in a slightly nerdy, male voice. I could talk about technical things in this font.

Star Trek. Oooh, remember how the doors slid? Erm...I'm not 100% sure if you're allowed to be nostalgic about Star Trek? Star Wars. You're definitely allowed to be nostalgic about Star Wars. Wasn't Jaja Binks shit? Yes. OK, that's done...erm, coding? We could talk about coding? I'm not sure I'd know what to say about coding - let alone make it funny...maybe we'll try another font.

This one? Oooh! I've lost weight...this feels a little zanier than the last one. The font of a woman who lives in a cottage and has romantic aspirations about the shy man who works at the garage. She possibly idolises the Bronte sisters. The shy man at the garage writes poetry about his lost youth and about how much he adores the throaty laugh of the woman who lives in the cottage with romantic aspirations. Her favourite film is Calendar Girls and although she can't cook savoury food to save her life, she's an excellent baker. She often makes brownies with her niece and nephew and muses over how great it would be to be allowed to eat them off the shy man from the garage's six pack. This is the sort of thought that leads her to worry for hours in the evening that the children can secretly hear her thoughts and she's poisoning their young minds. The shy man at the garage would happily slather himself in brownie mix and lay on her doorstep if he thought it might get her attention. But alas, they are both doomed to be eternal fuckwits without the guts to tell each other how they feel. It's probably best to leave them where they are...

This font is pretty difficult to decipher what I'm talking about. I'd be surprised if you can help me with a character assassination of this. I think it's the crazy ramblings of a child with too much imagination and red bull. Or maybe is how Matilda thinks.

If you can tell me what it says above I'll be very impressed with your tenacity. I might show you a nipple. This is the font of someone with no imagination.

And my final font? This one. I own an art gallery...I only drink red wine that costs more than £14...and I would never go south of the river dahhhhling. I wear scarlet dresses and no panties and pretend I like art galleries much more than I really do. I dislike myself sooo much that I'm afraid I'm just not comfortable staying as I am.

Well...that was fun...was that fun? Saved me explaining to you that my evening has thus far consisted of watching the Princess Diaries with my housemates and discussing the horrors of our early eyebrow experiences. I used to have one - a lovely 8 inch companion that stretched from ear to ear and looked like I'd adopted a timid ferret with poor sense of direction. It wasn't pretty. It may well explain my serious lack of man. I'm not sure what my excuse is now. It might be my neurotic obsession with publishing 9/10 thoughts that come into my brain.




Having just published this blog...it turns out the fonts I used do not transcribe to the publication. This now all seems like the slightly mental ramblings of a crazy woman. I am leaving them as they are in the interests of honesty.