Ohai.

Ohai, and welcome to my blog about being excellent. Here's the concept: with the usual appendages of a coffee and a cigarette, these are the tales of my adventures and lack thereof, all in the name of being fucking excellent. I'll start off with a bit of an archive delve to earlier this summer and the first fuckingexcellent photo/outing. Around 80% of all photos of me contain either a coffe or a cigarette, but this was a few days after the idea was concieved by myself and my friend, J, so holds a special place in my coffee pot heart.

Outside Boho's in Canterbury. While I remember, it fucks me off to the max when independent cafes - you're called Boho for a reason, faggits - use chain coffee brands/machines/mugs. I've hidden the 'ily' logo on this mug but nothing disguises their stupidly small handles (I want to CARESS my coffee mug, not fiddle with its hole). It just makes me sick. Make the effort to source your own coffee, use a proper cafetiere to make it, maybe even buy some mugs from flipping Tesco. Nothing says 'we're not actually bohemian at all' like ordering a machine, fifty mugs and a year's supply of (terrible) coffee in one fell swoop.

However, on another note that particular day-release was very good. The Oxfam bookshop is second to none - swag this time was the second Spike Milligan collection - and Wagamama would have to be having a very bad day to fail to make me the happiest woman in town.

Allow me to let you bask in the glory of my fuckingexcellence in this photo while I go and brainstorm for my next 'shoot'.

Ciao, porknuggets.