REDEBONY'S BOOK BOUTIQUE

Nothing hurts more than shame dating. It's like someone's rejecting you but still having the audacity to grin in your face. Actually claiming all the emotional,social,even financial support they can from you; whilst you wither away like a dying plant in the corner of their life. It hurts when your partner wont hold your hand in public, kiss you in public, introduce you to their friends, keep their real life restricted. The worst thing about these shame daters, is the questions you ask yourself over again in private, am i not attractive enough, intelligent enough, if im strong enough not to care why the hell should they? Shame daters are people you usually out class 100 to none, with maturity, independance, courage, yet shame daters are always overly conscious people. Their obsessively worried about how you look on their arm. Conflicted with questions of whose dating who in their social circle, and how they can outclass that persons trophy lifestyle. In the shame daters b

Black and Yellow (Short story) "There's nothing wrong with me," i wanted to tell him. Scream and rip it out from the pit of my lungs. Where it's moist, but the airs still chaotic with stale ciggarette smoke, and rough with the need to clear a throat. Cough up a furball. "Fuck your mum, your friends, the people who stare and analyse as we creep along the street, like were shadows in time and space." His brown eyes continued to glare through me as though i were a looking glass. "Seriously," he rubbed his eyes pink, "What are you harping on about now,let's just get in the fucking car." I zeroed in on the busy street, too many faces and too many places. People were seeing us together, i was his big black shame. "Well? Were in the middle of the main road, people need to get by, busses-" "Tell me you get it." Tell me you get me, i thought. I'm not your prettiest, and i heard the sigh of disappointment as i approac

I realise what nasty people get a kick out of most of all is making you wonder, and watching you crumble. It hit me two days ago when i was in the throes of a panic attack, and convinced i was getting ready to have a seizure, even if i was dying my next door neighbour, an older woman wouldn't help me, and she'd advise her family of cowards to not help me. Till this day i have no idea what i did to that woman, i've always been polite, always been friendly, my only downfall is sometimes when i listen to my music i'm in my own world, and oh yeah years later i finally admit i'm an attractive woman. When i was younger despite being told i looked like a supermodel by make up artists, and being called beautiful often. I never felt it. I was a tomboy at heart, with beautiful dark chocolate skin, yet i knew that guys at the time were always into girls that curled their hips in a certain way, or spoke in soft tones. I walk with tomboyish gusto, there's an almost mascu

Amy Winehouse died yesterday, and the ache of it resonates in all of us. The media love chiming on about her huuuuge drug problem, and her abominable relationship. Yet i think Amy Winehouse really died of a broken heart. I think she found escapism in 'he that shall not be named' and she had so much love to give, and so much to purge. Amy you were an amazing musician, may your soul rest, with ease, and in peace. You have been summoned to the bosom of the love you crave. It's funny because many people believe she had everything, fame, money, grand success. Yet there was a big piece missing like a huge jigsaw. When something is missing unless you find it or a way to compensate for it, it's still gone. It's like someone giving you a huge bowl of ice cream, yet there's no ice cream, all there is is a cherry on top, a silver spoon to eat the invisible ice cream, and a bowl. You tell everybody else you have ice cream, and it just sounds so fantastic.Amy just was

Mr Hoare, who worked for The Sun and the News of the World until 2005, became a key figure in the phone-hacking scandal last year when he was the first reporter to go on the record with allegations that Mr Coulson not only knew about hacking, but "actively encouraged" his staff to intercept voicemail messages. He told the New York Times that Mr Coulson's claims that he knew nothing about phone hacking were "simply a lie." He later told the BBC that his former editor had personally asked him to access phone messages, a claim that Mr Coulson denied. Mr Hoare, who was later interviewed under caution by police, made fresh allegations last week, when he said News of the World executives paid police officers to locate "targets" by using their mobile phone signal in an operation known as "pinging". Then he told a Guardian journalist: "There's more to come. This is not going to go away." Read more: http://www.vancouversun.c

Was there that much circumstantial evidence? How does a mother charged with first degree murder, facing the death penalty for her own daughter? Simply get found guilty for providing false information,and sentenced to One year in jail and $1,000 dollar fine for misdemeanors? For a child that doesn't get to see her next birthday, doesn't get to meet new friends and share new adventures, go on first dates, graduate from school, get married, have her own children. The justice system gets more and more ridiculous. It's almost painful to flick on the tv screens and turn to the news. There's always someone getting away with something, and it seems the judicial system are happy to let these maniacs run riot in our communities, after all, it's not their next door neighbours. It's not their family members, or friends, their lives are tucked away in their own sacred existence. Poor Caylee Marie Anthony (August 9, 2005-June 16,2008)deserves justice. Maybe there was evide

We've all been curious about creative sensuality of tattoo art. I even sat and sweated on the tattooist chair, till i saw the needle, and sprinted for dear life. Not everyone escaped creative retribution, many celebrities, and of course, the humans with less PR, Stylist and Marketing teams have had tattoos done. Only to hate them, and be full of regret. Here is my other less painful,less permanent, more desirable option...Henna. Check out these pics! henna

Sad to say i'm not a J LO groupie but she's turning herself into Jordan marrying and divorcing left to right. Seriously,i'm starting to wonder wether the institution of marriage for celebrity's is just a charade to acquire more publicity. I do believe that the press and those pap hounds (Papparazi) add pressure to their relationships, and there is a struggle to protect their private selves. Yet i can't help but logicalise that whilst most normal people go through a divorce, there's the depression, the sharing of assets, the shopping, and the hide and seek. Celebrities go through divorces, get made over, have magazine deals ready, new contacts and ad campaigns in place. I won't dare say it's unfair because they worked hard for all of this. Yet there are celebrities who make millions primarily from making up and breaking up alone. That's how they stay in the papers, keep the buzz going, and generate the millions. Marc Anthony seems kinda hot,

Seriously,there's people dying of starvation in third world countries, hell i was starving last week, and this muppet is being scammed £258,000 for a croissant? Uhhm. A Taiwanese gentleman was scammed £258,000 after trying to buy 'French Bread so delicious it will make you cry.' Hillarious. He was actually supposed to buy this 'romantic' french bread for 99 Taiwanese dollars (£2.12)but kept being tricked into sending money. First the bank manager of the bakery,then the 'monetary supervision commission' and many more calls requesting he send more money.It was only after the seventh transmission of cash, and after he'd transferred 12 million Taiwanese dollars (£258,000) that he realised he'd been scammed.That's what i call severe terminator greed. 7 times? You fool me once shame on you, you fool me seven times....that's comic i'm sorry. People keep talking about the recession, there's money alright, it's being hoarded in the bakery!

It's true, i am not kidding. There is a website online called i hate him. com. Who would have guessed it. A site to vent all your anger and frustrations about someone you truly loathe. There are over 600 stories, which means over 600 people decided to start a delicious rant about some guy in their life. www.Ihatehim.com No kidding, this is actually real. Someone actually took the time to market this website, paid money for a domain, used their networking abilities both online and offline. Then again when people need to vent, they need to vent.

If many of you are like me and draw a blank when the sci fi techno words come in. I would describe Search Engine optimisation as the high school attempt at popularity. If we are trying to keep it simple of course. Your attempt at high school popularity was a myriad of social networking, base introductions, learning about what people your interested in are interested in themselves, creating alliances, and basically giving the hard sell. Everything in life is about marketing. Selling your skills, promoting who you are, and making it clear to others why they should be picking you. Search engine Optimisation is about getting noticed. Point A. If you got all glammed up to get the attention of your crush, and you kept attending all the places you were guaranteed to not see them. What would be the outcome? most of the time, the outcome would be ineffective. You'd want to dress up, look amazing, show up at all the hot spots you know they'd be, and find opportunities to get an introd

Amuse yourself if you may. I think i'm one of those Shakesperian romantics, possibly in love with the concept of being in love. The rush of emotion, a control freaks tidal wave of things and events they can't puppet. The questions, the answers, the different perspectives. One of my favourite poems of all time is definitely My mistresses eyes. I knew it word for word, and recited it to some sixth former i was smitten with in high school. Along with sending cheesey arse love letters, sharing that poem rocked me to the very core of my being. An insecure teenage girl had found a poem that spoke volumes, about one man loving his woman and celebrating her flaws. My Mistress eyes Sonnet 130 William Shakespeare My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her c