2010 COMMANDMENTS

I hate New Years. This has nothing to do with the overwhelming bitterness of it happening to be my birthday, no suh-reee. What's to celebrate? I'm just another year closer to death and another year closer to it not being socially acceptable to cram myself into shiny leggings.

Nah, I'm fucking with you! Happy new decade everyone, thanks to everyone thats been reading...press release spammers, stalkers, lovely complimenters and sour-lifed, resentment filled anonymous commenters alike...it's, all in all, been an excellent year and I couldn't feel further away from this miserable shit. I hope y'all make stupid resolutions, laugh, cry, cry-max and generally have a boss 2010!

Jo

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Based on 2009 here are my personal rules to welcome in the new decade

HONOUR THY BLOG

Because it doesn't make you an introverted nerd that needs socialising under the mental health act to have a blog anymore.

THOU SHALT NOT INDIRECT

Social networking sites and being able to do the online equivalent of standing in a large stadium of friends, acquaintances and strangers shouting your opinion has thrown up a whole world of indirect bitching. I'm guilty of it. Then I realised 50% of people wouldn't have a fucking clue what or who I was referrrng to and the other half would be plunged into a world of hate-filled paranoia. So, I'm going back to leaving flaming paper bags of dog poop on frenemies doorsteps.

THOU SHALT NOT PANDER

Despite my nightmares about networking situations where I'd have to hard-sell myself like a QVC fem-bot and relentlessly lick sphincter, all the super opportunities in '09 came from doing squat. By squat I mean putting all my love into writing and then sheepishly offering it to the world. Like if you make a really tasty cake and people hear about the tasty cake they'll go get that cake rather than the soulless, cheap, poor quality cake that's has loads of big signs round it and special offers...or something.

THOU SHALT BUY MUSIC

I spent a lot of this year listening to either Spotify, YouTube clips on other blogs or rushed promos of rappers I'd never heard of and forgot how much of an event it was to buy music. Case and point...Clipse's Till The Casket Drops was my hands down favourite hip-hop album this year and yet I couldn't be fucked to go and buy it. Nor could anyone else apparently as its sales bombed in comparison to the excitement that surrounded the leaks. I'm sorry Malice and Pusha :( I'll be doing less stealing and more buying.

THOU SHALT HAVE SWAGGER

This is the year I make paper rather than spend imaginary Natwest owned paper on nails, liver damage and scratch-cards.

THOU SHALT EAT HUMBLE PIE

Words can't describe how profound an effect visiting The Motherland was to me. Spending time away drinking straight from a fresh coconut, swimming under a waterfall and seeing the full Fuertes fam-lay > listening to a public school educated Dappy impersonator in a Shoreditch pub talking about borrowing money from his Mum to maintain his Methylenedioxymethamphetamine binges.

REMEMBER THE DAY OF COTCHING AND KEEP IT HOLY

Because it's not all about being seen raving.

THOU SHALT NOT COVET NICKI MINAJ'S ASS