Hair! Hair! Long, beautiful, burnt hair!

About a year ago, I was setting fire to something, and back then I had beautiful, long waist-length hair, albeit in a bizarre purple-maroon colour (it's natural, something many teachers refuse to believe). I set fire to the object, I believe a pile of leaves and grass and wood in a bowl, and I lent over and set my hair on fire. Ever since then, I've tied it back. Anyway, I set about 90% of my hair on fire, and managed to pat it out. Hair's really flammable. My mother, who normally deals with my burns and scalds with stern looks and tutting, shrieked like a fruit bat (Yay! I've started watching Invader Zim again! Catharine - the AOS - calls it Invader Dim. Oh, the height of wit! Her head is a cavern of fluff) and then made bookings to the hairdressers to get it cut in a nice uniform shape again. So now it's shoulder length.

NEW NEWS! A new boy has joined our class. This is good. He sits next to me and I abandon the misanthropy and try to be nice. He's really funny actually. And because he transferred from a Sixth Form College, he doesn't know that the others regard me as 'pyro psycho' yet. New friend alert! He's called Johnny (hopefully not a homicidal maniac or a psychic) and he likes Invader Zim too. And he's pseudogothic. Yays all round.

By the way, I thought you might want to see a picture of Catharine I drew. This is one of the more flattering ones... I have more caricituristic ones but this is the best I can find at short notice.

Will it blend?

I have been on Will it blend? And inspired by the Bic lighters on don't try this at home... well you know what that means.

For my bigger stunts I stole a fireproof suit from the fire station. Fires are good, being on the receiving end of medical staff considering your recommendation to the mental home is not.

So I put on my fire suit, took the blender and a Bic and put them in the blender in the back garden. Awesome. Flames were spurting out the top... even mum was impressed, but she told me never to do it again. She was watching from the window. There ya go, they're scared of their own daughter. Mwahahaha.

The trampoline came off worst, so we wont be using it this winter, not that we would anyway. And I have singed hair... not that that's unusual. But I didn't get burnt! GO FIRESUIT!

I do not fancy David Tennant... and if I do, well...

Oh sh*t.

My lovely charming cow-slag of an older sister has decided to write "SAMMIE W. <3 DAVID TENNANT" in big letters in permanant marker on one of the girls' toilet-stalls. But I'll handle it. I'll handle it. I mean, it's not as if the Union of Evil Dumb Bitches have been teasing me about it. All day. In loud voices. In front of EVERYONE.

OK, they have. But I can handle it. I'm mature enough not to seek revenge. I am.

I'm not. I've burnt her favourite picture of her and faeces-features (it has pride of place on her bedside table) and will paint a comprehensive list of all her current boyfriends (three) on the toilet wall using the ashes and turpentine. It's a big picture. A4-sized. Told you she loved it.

I'm back with healed hands!

Well not quite, but I have operating fingers, so that's a plus.

1. I take back my "wonderful older sister who is perfect and beautiful and wholly unsluttish in every way" comments now. SHE MADE ME in return for typing it up. I have also had to change my password to prevent infiltration... but she hasn't, which is a plus, I must say. Anyway, she's on a date/orgy so she can't bother me. Yes! And it's Friday, which can only be a good thing (see part 2).

2. Well, I have to say, skool. Skool, school, house of hideous verbal torture, whatever you want to call it. To day, one of the satanic whorde, they who wear pink and have blonde dyed hair, decided that it was not OK to be a sarcastic, creepy (I admit that I can be), redhaired, Buddy Holly-glasses-wearing, slightly plain, unslutty, psuedo-gothic, slightly misanthropic , pyromaniac bibliophile. Or, as this charming example of humanity put it, "OMG look at the ikky freak!!!" I'm reluctantly impressed. "Ikky" is a new one on me, I admit. There is imagination in there... somewhere lurking. Like a girder in a quagmire, I imagine.

3. We spent half an hour shivering on the playing field today.

4. Lets just say that if you call me an ikky freak and don't lock your locker, expect to find your stuff slightly more... carbon-based... than it was when you last saw it. I torched her stuff. I admit it was the reason for number 3. We got to see some pretty blue lights attached to large red trucks with ladders on them, and lots of "well fit" firemen.

5. "Well fit" firemen couldn't hold a candle to David Tennant.

6. What? I may be what I am, but I can't have a little crush?

7. If you're looking for pictures of David Tennant, forget it. I don't do that sort of thing. Ever since AOS found pictures of some "cute" boy band member I had in my room because I found him cute. And wrote "Sammie W. luvs whatever-the-hell-his-name-is" all over the girls' toilets. And got some guy to write it all over the boys'. Cow.

Trashcan Girl, signing off.

PS. I will gets some pictures up here - like cartoon.s Give me time, they will go up!

Why posting may be sparse

Unable to type, so posts may be few and far between. I am only posting because my wonderful older sister who is perfect and beautiful and wholly unsluttish in every way has agreed to type up my post. If I can get her to do so again, I will.

Um... well, mum didn't go too nuclear after the flaming sink incident because nothing was burnt (OK, the towels got a little singed) but everything's OK. Thanks to my amazing sister, who has calmed things down.

Anyway, yesterday, I built a home-made bomb from a Bic lighter, a pressurized oxygen tank and a CD player (for atmousphere). Put on my all-time favourite track, and in the back garden, flicked my Bic, so to speak. Evidently there was a leak because the tank blew up before I could light my fuse. I discoved another meaning to the phrase 'burning a CD'.

I spent another fun afternoon down A&E and cannot type because I have bulky burns dressings on both hands and all over my upper body. Oww.

i am retea4ting my grovelloijtgsister statements she wrote themnduring my dictation i qkb2r4i8tijhgbwith my nosebibhave donebthis namy times befe and am exprty

A brand new form of contraceptive

Well, my parents went out today, leaving me with Annoying Older Sister. And AOS's boyfriend, Faeces-Features. Which was fortunate for me, because it gave me time to look for my Bic. Annoying Older Sister and Faeces-Features were trying to suck each other's faces off... so I took the advantage. I also did not wish to witness such a gross and de-disturbing sight. I advise you to get ye olde puke pail.

So I found my Bic, and decided to refill it over the sink in the utility room. Then I gave it an experimental flick. Next think we know, the sink's on fire, including a bucket of water (hey, it got butane on it, m'kay?) which I thought was quite cool. But the smoke detector went off and sis and Faeces-Features came hurtling downstairs in their underwear. Now use the puke pail.

Sis called the fire brigade to spoil the fun. And our parents. So I now have to face the music, so to speak. Mum's gonna go nuclear.

I wonder if I can mitigate the chain reaction by saying exactly what the flaming sink prevented Annoying Older Sister and Faeces-Features from doing in the en suite?

Actually Bonfire Night.

Tonight, I am being locked in. My parents think it is the best way to prevent 'accidents'. They have also removed my Bic lighter. Hmm. Ah well, I have a blowtorch somewhere. Anyway, I have gone two days (including today) without setting fire to something or blowing something up, so that's a bonus. Maybe it's because all the neighbours are in the name of public holidays.

Remember, remember

The 5th of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot

I see no reason

Why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Damn good fun, anyway.

I remember the last time I tried to give up firestarting - for New Year's. And like most New Year's, it failed. I torched a grassy verge, then a flowerbed...

But I am giving up now. I have a problem. Admitting that you have a problem is the first part of the cure, n'est ce pas? What does that mean, the French bit? Meh.

Trash.

Trash's first post

OK, hi. This is my first - yes, very first - post.

I am Sammie, AKA Trashcan Girl - after a character in The Stand called 'Trashcan Man'. He's kind of my idol. I start fires.

Never started one in a wheelie bin though.

Well, today I started a small fire in my backgarden. Tonight my parents will be holding a Bonfire Night Party (apparently, to hold it actually on Bonfire Night would be wrong - something about it being a school night) and there was a HUGE pile of crap and dead leaves and... well.

I'm grounded. I also set off one of the Roman Candles too, into the plants. That's probably what did it, because the rhodedendrum caught fire. Mum loves rhodedendrums.

Anyway, I started a small fire in my wastepaper basket, and I probably should be keeping an eye on that.

All my love,

Trash.