mind the gap? thats the least of my worries...

Things that drive me mad on the London Underground



1) People who DON’T stand on the right of the escalator
2) Trolley bags
3) People who stand in front of the doors and it becomes a rugby scrum to get off the train
4) Deodorant. Use it. Love it.
5) When tourists block the platform
6) When tourists block the ticket barrier
7) Tourists
8) Bob Crow. Is driving from one end of the line to the other and getting paid £30k a year for it really reason to strike all the time?
9) Horrendous music blaring from someone’s earphones. Unless you’re 16 years old- there’s no excuse!
10) Smooching couples in the morning. Get over it.
11) Minor delays. Such lies.

seventeen

Lately I have been wondering what the 17 year old me would think of the 27 year old me today.

When I was a teen, I was so blase about about life after school- all I could think about was how much fun Uni was going to be...but career wise, I never gave it a second thought. I would joke I was going to be a media mogul like Rupert Murdoch and write witty and insightful columns in my spare time and of course live in an amazing city loft and still be able to keep up a whirlwind social life. The reality 10 years later is that I now work for a charity, write anonymously on a blog from time to time, and live in a part of London normally associated with all the wrongs of society and any energy I have left after a day at work is spent trying not to let the mountain of domestic chores collapse in a heap around me. Without texting my friends would never hear from me. 17 Year old me would be SO mortified. And even more mortified to know that I still dont have a driving licence!

Take it away Donna Summer...

bunny hop

How was your Easter weekend?

Hope it was a rainbow of pastel colours, bunnies and chocolate. Or in my case, gateau and pineapple juice. I am now trying to function normally after a long weekend of late nights and lie ins.

I have been cursed (or blessed?) with a baby face- despite rolling towards 30 I still look like I am barely out of my teens. And I will be the first to admit, I still sometimes act like one. Because of my baby faced curse I'm often subject to being patronised from time to time. Sometimes in a harmless way and other times in a way that makes me think if they knew my real age I'd be spoken to as an equal and not as if I was fresh out of college.

I feel like I am the only 27 year old that regularly gets asked for ID when simply buying cigarettes. Alcohol, I can understand...but to think I am younger than 18 makes me want to cry. I've just had an appalling moment with the world's most annoying security man who mimicked me in a high pitched voice when I said my boss wasn't in. Die already. How about, I have a mortgage and own more shoes than your wife you totally condescending douche.

Name that film:

Elgin Perkins: Is your mommy here?
Brand: No, actually she's out at the market buying Pampers for all of us kids.

Wiiiiiin in the End!

Hands up who watched Teen Wolf yesterday?

Scott Howard, Marty McFly...bless your unageable face Michael J Fox. Just what does the J stand for? Did you also know that at the end scene when everyone is embracing the basketball team, you can catch a glimpse of some pervy extra with his own little extra out?

And has anyone else seen the Teen Wolf inspired Nike dunks? Fugly. I think I might want a pair.



The birthday hi jinx I was planning involved cardboard cut outs of Kristen Stewart and faaaaar too many New Moon and Taylor Lautner posters stuck everywhere on the walls of her bedroom, with lots of tacky merchandise scattered around for good measure. She now has to touch K-Stew's boob everytime she flicks the light switch on. But its fine...Edward's silhouette wall sticker watches over her as she sleeps...Be Safe...

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

...dare I say it was a "win in the end"?

"All I want to do is graduate from high school, go to Europe, marry Christian Slater, and die"

My exact sentiment. Except I'd swap Slater for Cam Gigandet and ditch Europe altogether. And I finished high school 10 years ago, so I'll just settle for doing my nails. What a crappy week it's been.

Tomorrow is going to be the cherry on top of my pranking history. Aftermath details to come...

remind me of the babe

I went to a masked party over the weekend. With only 2 days notice I didnt have much time to scramble something impressive together. Taking inspiration from one of my most favorite films ever, The Labyrinth,I wanted something silver and white with feathers and sparkle, fit enough to dance with the Goblin King...I ended up wearing a pair of cat ears with a black eye mask instead. Like I was about to go out and burgle someone's house and decided to wear a pair of ears at the last moment just to be kerraazzzy!

When we arrived at the party HQ, there were many Venetian style masks and a few other people wearing black eye masks (last minute party goers too?) but none wearing cat ears. So I at least felt a little bit original. It was a quirky little night. A gorilla played the keyboard. A girl who I thought looked amazing in a harlequin ballerina kind of outfit later looked a big old mess and underneath her silk turban and mask she was just another East end clone with Pat Benatar hair and an eating disorder. So I suppose that was the good thing about a masked party. Everyone could hide who they were and be goblin kings and queens for the night (or a gorilla)

...what a gloomy rainy day. Where's David Bowie in a pair of obscene spandex when you need him?

That is All...

The Devil Wears Prada was on telly last night and even though I've seen it loads of times I still sat to watch it and feel for Andy juggling the impossible demands of her boss...and lust after her wardrobe (post-makeover!)

My days of being sent on a hundred errands with vague instructions, juggling coffee cups in one hand, and a phone ringing in the other, are o-v-e-r but I look back on it as rite of passage that I'm glad I went through but would never repeat again in my life.

I once had to run out and buy a new pair of jeans for my boss as he had been out the night before and split his pants. For the whole day he was walking around with his bum hanging out, flashing the office with his tighty whiteys. Meanwhile I was made to stand and wait at a posh boutique until it opened so I could buy him a new pair. Just as I was five minutes away from returning to the office with a new pair of jeans, my phone sounded off again and I was sent out to buy 5 ice cream sundaes. By the time I got back to the office the sundaes were now pools of chocolate flavored puddles, my boss had left to go down the pub (even with underpants flashing) and I was a sweaty flustered mess. And this is from my happier days in TV.

Months later-working on a totally rubbish show-I returned home late after a tiring day of shooting and running only to recieve a nasty call from a Researcher as to why a tape was missing...although I hadn't stepped foot in the office all day and hadn't a clue why this was being pinned onto me. When I handed in my resignation a few weeks later, the Production Manager laughed. I'm still not sure if he was laughing because I hadn't done it sooner or because he was delirious with stress. I'd like to think the latter.