Something tells me this won't be as funny tomorrow morning sober, or let's be fair, tomorrow afternoon, when I actually get up.

My Secret Shame...without the secret, or in fact the shame.

I, Abigail Jane Pearson, being of sound mind and body but knowing the uncertainty of life, do hereby make, publish and declare this, I fucking love Harry Potter. I am a grown woman (almost) whose bedroom walls are plastered in Harry Potter posters and Hogwarts banners, and I am in no way ashamed to admit this, and neither is Hayley. Hayley Carr is a girl that I used to go to school with, and my love of all things wizard is challenged only by hers, so I put this to you, blog-stumble-upon-ers (because let's be fair, no one reads this shit regularly), make Hayley's dreams happen, as a fellow Potter-head. 

This blog post came with two motives, first a shout out and in support of Hayley, the second is this, I do not own a Topshop shirt with the word GEEK on and I do not wear glasses with no frames, I do however love Maths, school, and above all else, Harry Potter, so along with Hayley, this is my question to you...

So what if I'm a geek?

I've never taken LSD before.

http://bestiario.org/research/eyecandy/

The BIGGER the better.

If you're the biggest creature on earth, that by extension probably makes you the biggest creature in the known universe, now I'm not doubting the existence of life on other planets, I'm just saying anything that big probably would have been discovered by now. Now, I'm just a simple country girl, I get over excited by the tube, and I'm constantly penniless so the chances of my ever seeing something that cool are slim to none...or they were.

Behold, the BLUE WHALE

You gotta friend in me...

Sometimes in life, you just come across things and you just think, 'Why the fuck didn't I think of that?' then other times you think 'What was the point in that?', upon seeing this ladies and gentlemen, I thought both...

Prepare yourself for the fruits of my shoe-project labour...

Watch this space...

Whatever it takes...

You only get one chance at a first impression...unless you change your opening sequence then you have as many chances as you want

Some of my favourite opening sequences...

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The Killing, a US remake of Danish programme Forbrydelsen (The Crime). Because God knows the Americans can't just watch a programme from a different country. Ignore the fact that there's four, just pay attention to one of them.

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Game of Thrones, as good as the opening sequence is, it's not even half as good as the programme.

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The Big Bang Theory. 

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 How I Met Your Mother, what I like about this is how all the photos used look like photos that you and your friends would actually take on a night out.

Touch My...What?

So we got told our film was too polite, so I tried to make my poster the opposite, turns out you actually CAN have too much of a good thing...

After seeing some of these Exploitation Film posters, I am forever changed ...

When is a porno not a porno? When it's ajar...

3 women get told they have to try to get inside the heads of men to make an Exploitation Film, it sounds like the start of the world's worst chick flick. (FYI. I tried to get the Chick Flick team to swap, they wouldn't.) 
Two weeks later...

The finished product, we filmed it twice, edited it 3 times and laughed far too much, here it is...

Tits a plenty.

Exploitation films A.K.A. How many pairs of tits can we get in a film? 

We got put into pairs (we got a three) and were giving a genre and a story line and were told to make a film. We got exploitation films, they're like pornos, only not as classy.

Baskerville ready? Eurostile ready? Three, two one!

I feel like I've been seriously taking fonts and what not for granted, what I once saw for something that you've got to pick when ever you're forced to do an essay, I now see for what they are, a fucking nightmare. Seriously, baseline, x-height, cap height, ascenders, descenders, counters, well dude I know my shit now.

The two fonts I've been given are, and drum roll please...Baskerville Regular, and Eurostile Bold.

Now starting off on t'old Baskerville designed by John, well Baskerville, in the 18th Century, Baskerville (the man not the font) based his work on the work of engravers. Baskerville (the font this time) was popular for book work in the letter press era. Experiments have shown that text writing in Baskerville is 1.5% more likely to make the reader agree with the phrase.




Now Eurostile, Eurostile was designed by Aldo Novarese in 1962, now I'm 99% sure that fonts don't have feelings, but if they did I'd be a little bit hurt if I was Microgramma, because Eurostile was designed to be a better version of Microgramma, very similar fonts but Eurostile has both upper and lower case letters, whereas Microgramma has only upper case letters.

Eurostile Extended Bold is used for
CASIO logo.

Eurostile.

Eurostile.

Baskerville is used for Castleton College in Vermont.

I hate Mood-boards, a blogpost by Abby Pearson.

I hate Mood-boards. The End.

What's that? A Guide to Bus-stop Personas? Why not bud?

My very first university project.

'Mama, I love you'...yeah that's right, I just quoted the Spice Girls, I went there.

Unfinished. Busy girl like, I've got other shit
that needs to be done, Mam keeps asking
me when I'm going to finish it. Soon Mother.

This is my Mam.

I painted her. Twice. And despite the fact these two portraits were both painted from photographs taken within seconds of each other, they look super different, even her facial expressions are different, which is crazy talk because I swear to god there is about 8 seconds in between these photos. But what I'm getting at is, if paintings that are less 'photo realistic' have more character, then why does the black and white makes me smile more? The coloured painting has 'character', but it's not my Mam's character, so if it's not the right sort of 'character' does it really matter how much character a painting has?

 

I let her keep this one, to be honest
I didn't think she'd 'keep' it on the
living room wall for everyone to see.

Dying Art.

Today I, Abigail Jane Pearson, received my first ever letter, not a text, not a phone call, not an email, tweet or facebook message, but a real life letter, in a little white envelope. The thing is, before I wrote the letter to which this was the reply, I'd never written a letter before, naturally I ended up swearing a lot, but I signed and send it anyway. But what I received back was better, it was everything a good letter should be, it had drawings on the envelope, laughs, jokes and even a P.S. but better than anything, it was hand written, someone had actually taken the time to write to me, not type out a letter, but spent their time writing to me. Kinda makes you feel good doesn't it?

What the fuck? Come on guys, sort it out.

My friend Grant tweeted a link today ('tweeted' like on Twitter, I'm down with the kids), the link takes you to a page counting how many times hateful homophobic language is used everyday on twitter, and as of 8:48pm this is what it looked like:

And those figures are just for one day.

Look at today's statistics here.

Come on guys, something's got to change.

Stats. for use of 'faggot', 'so gay', 'no homo' and 'dyke' from July 5th-September 30th 2012.

I wish I was Sir David Attenborough. AKA Project One: Take Two.

It's just the voice, he just sounds so good, wish I sounded like that.

For our first project we decided to do the bus stop...but with a twist, we're putting a safari/nature documentary twist on things and treating each classic bus stop group as an animal and giving it it's own safari profile...

Keep you posted.

Also check out the hydroplaning dolphins, too cool like.