sweet treats

Tomorrow is December.

December I will be another year older. If I was an X Factor contestant I would have to be in the over 25's category. I will have to tell people I am in my late twenties. I will be that much closer to 30. I will still get ID'd for buying cigarettes (and yet never for booze, make sense much?)

In a spur of the moment Christmas present buying frenzy I ended up buying a bunch of little nic nacs as stocking fillers, which may or may not end up in other people's stockings. Most likely not.





I have post purchase regret. I obviously had a sweet craving and should have just gotten off my arse and made myself a hot chocolate. I guess secretly I still hope to smell like a walking sweet shop. The idea of slathering my skin with vanilla cupcake scented lotion as my toasted marshmallow candle wafts that gooey sugary smell through the air...my eyeballs are practically bulging at all that sugar sweet goodness. What's diabetes?

Yesterday I found a dead rat in the bath tub AFTER I let my cat rub his head all over my face. I thought he was being cute and affectionate. I know now that inside that conniving little head he was laughing.

P.S Please feel free to buy these and send them my way in a size 6, thankyouverymuch




....the red shoes would make me feel like a 40's pin up girl. Droooool.

vamps

The world may be Cullen crazy now, but the vamp du jour "in my day" was David in The Lost Boys. I don't know why my mother let me watch this when I was 5 years old, but I'm glad she did. Watching it back now, not only do I have Kiefer Sutherland's young mug to coo over but also now their outfits.




I spy bleached stone washed jeans, leather jackets, chunky bracelets, i'm pretty sure those are some chaps he has on, and a whole lotta layering, and lord have mercy...the mullets. Praise Kiefer's platinum mullet as him and Star ride along the beach on that tinny sounding motorbike. Don't ask me what Bill S Preston Esq. is doing in this flick, but him and Keanu don't get their Wyld Stallyn groove on for another 2 years.

Edward Cullen, you and your Volvo have just had your ass kicked in the coolness factor.

welcome to your secret garden

For no reason other than I just wanted an away day out of work, I went to this spa today. It was a beautiful place with lots of ladies talking in a very soothing voice at you. I found myself saying thank you for everything, and on my best manners, as if I would wake the Spa Goddess if I didn't speak above a whisper at all times.

The most beautiful place was the lounge area, where I had a very spa like jam doughnut for breakfast and a berry smoothie.



I had a full body massage and it was awesome. Arms, legs, back, neck, even my tum-she didn't miss out anything. And then at the end she gave me an Indian Head Massage and I came out smelling beautiful and posh. My back tattoo was a great ice breaker-as I lay on the table the masseuse bubbled over it in a very non soothing masseuse way. I should be thankful for this as later on as she was working on my arm and shoulder my boob popped out from the sheet covering me and I pretended that something like a little boob poppage was far too trivial to be bothered about.
I also found myself agreeing to buy a bottle and tub of everything she had used during our session because anything else would have felt too rude.

The rest of the day was spent dunking ourselves in and out of hot jacuzzis and steam rooms like biscuits in a mug of tea. I haven't felt this lady like...ever. It's going to be tough going when I get to work tomorow and literally put on my hard hat(which we do have, next to the welding masks which I wear in the workshop when I'm pretending to be Flash Dance and the guys look at me funny) Later we sampled one of the sleep pods where yet another soothing voice welcomed us to our secret garden on a vibrating bed.

In true spa fashion I threw on a white robe as soon as I got home (catching evil glances from the cat as this is his favorite thing to nap on) and pretending that the chicken pie in the oven is in fact something healthy and green and good enough to make a face mask with.

hello you have reached the winter of our discontent...

"It's aliiive!"

Feeling a bit more human everyday. A little flammable if anything. Certainly phlegmy.

Next week is the first week of December, how is that even possible? It doesn't feel cold enough (no complaints from me though- wooooo global warming!). For the holidays we are flying up to "rural" Scotland where it will be plenty cold, with forests, winding country lanes and statues of fairies in places that I can't pronounce as I can't roll my R's. I am told it is meant to be Peter Pan, but you don't need to go to Specsavers to see that it defo more Tinkerbell than anything.

This year I think we'll skip the day trip to St Andrew's as we both came ridiculously close to hypothermia after watching some seals swim last time we were up there. In a place so cold I couldn't believe they didnt have any penguins at the Sea Life centre there...even London Zoo has penguins. And that's Zone 1 Regent's Park dude.

Although 90% recovered, perhaps my greasy, stinky sick self of last week is still lurking as never has a greasy, stinky guy appealed more.



"This is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You and me and five bucks"

So true.

Sick and Germy

I have not washed my hair for 3 days and my diet of paracetomol and Berocca means that my insides probably glow green. When I yawn at night, I light up the room.

Today is the first day all week that I've felt remotely human (a very greasy and pale looking one) As I managed to drag myself out of bed this morning, huddled under a blanket, I turned on the Good Food Channel and zoned out. When I came to, I had a craving for fluffy pancakes and cranberry scones. Subliminal messaging perhaps! Before I twinkled out, I was watching Aaron Craze: Rude Boy Food. The weirdest cooking show I've ever come across! Having 3 stars tattooed on your neck and wearing a trilby does not make you a rude boy Aaron...more like Blaaaake incarcerated. Anyway, as he sits on the beach making beetroot ice cream, whipping up some egg yolks he exclaims to the camera "make sure they're cooked, in case your girlfriend's about to drop yaknawhatimean?" Comedy gold.

Time for another Berocca and a snooze.

awwooooo!

Le Sigh.

The police are so going to lock me up for something to do with minors.

This boy is illegal.

Oh Taylor. Who knew when I watched the comedy classic that is Cheaper By The Dozen 2 that you would turn out to be dreamier than McDreamy.

carrot cake and wine

I was flipping through this month's issue of Vanity Fair (after I had poured over the amazingness of R-Patz's photos) when I stopped at a picture of what I thought was a chic 30-something sophisticated woman, until I read her little interview. This woman who I thought was at least 10 years older than me was actually my age! There she was posing in a pretty little white Lanvin dress, this overachieving minx, art advisor to the rich and famous...while I sat in my greying fluffy slippers and an old Johnny Depp t- shirt.

I know, I know...its a story in a magazine. And its Sunday, I have every right to be wearing Johnny Depp's face over my bosom. I have conflicting issues with myself over age. I feel too old to party hard but far too young to settle down. The Saturday nights of my "yoof" were spent in smoky bars and clubs, student dives and Scream pubs, raving and dancing the weekend (and week day) nights away. I notice that my social calender now consists more of dinner parties than parties. Last night, a little get together at a friend's house meant X-Factor, Wii games, beer, pizza...and tea. Smokers please gather on the roof terrace! (I have flashbacks of my student pad strewn with cigarette butts and empty beer bottles in the living room, 365 days of the year) When did we get so sensible? When did I become not only the owner of a vacuum cleaner, but of a variety of herbal teas and a cafetiere?

So, this not-so-old-old-fart is off to do some baking and daydream about my next tattoo (I'm thinking wild horses in black and grey) and finishing off my nails in that matte grey/beige colour I spied on Lauren Conrad's twitpic.

Ciao, ciao.

bueller...bueller...bueller...

I am feeling a little overwhelmed today.



I would like to be somewhere in a different hemisphere, where you can see that actually the sky is in fact blue, where the only noise i hear is from the sound of my old-man style heavy breathing, and preferably at a beach, with the smell of coconut oil permeating my nostrils. With white sand.

I don't ask for much.

tweet, tweet, tweettweet

An new internet filter has been installed at work meaning access to my daily browsing has been limited. Trying to log into my email account will have access denied flash across my screen and the reason why written underneath it: Pornography...wha'!

I have taken to wearing my amazing woolly hats, with giant embellishments on them Blair Waldorf style. Maybe I have a weird shaped head, but sometimes hats just dont sit right on me. So rather than let my ears (also funny shaped) turn as blue as a Smurf this winter I am going to buy one of these little bad boys:



I'm actually looking forward to winter this year in a kooky Tim Burton kind of way. All I'm missing is an actual working fire place. Other than that...weird yodelling cat, check. Insane neighbour, check. A century's supply of hot chocolate, check.

Have you seen the whiteness of Katie Price's teeth? I want to gravitate towards it like a fly to one of those fly electrocuters. I'm borderline obessive on teeth whiteness. I have a whitening product shipped from the US and a gum guard. I like wearing my gum guard and shadow boxing in the mirror like Michelle Rodriguez in Girl Fight.

Michelle Rodriguez is totally a lesbian.

Speaking of which, have you seen The L Word? I have yet to watch it from Season 1, but it is the best drama on telly I have seen (bar True Blood) in ages.



Shane McCutcheon, I salute you.

Everyone has a passion that is lost on others

Jigga who, jigga whuut

I'm scared I'll be too short to see anything on stage tonight. And even more scared of having teenage boy sweat smeared onto my face.

l-i-v-i-n

Last night I booked a quick weekend trip away for my birthday. The deciding factor was the realisation that I have not left the shores of this pond all year. So with that dismal fact, I pressed click a few times and have foolishly booked an expensive weekend trip right smack bang in the middle of the most expensive month of the year. Somehow I will have to squeeze my purse to buy gifts for the family entourage that seems to get bigger and bigger each year.

I hate buying Christmas presents.

“One thing I’ve learnt about male role models is that they don’t hesitate to invest in themselves.” Michelle Obama

Now i'm not usually one to go ga-ga and hallelujah when I hear an inspiring quote. But after reading this in an interview with the First Lady (of the World it seems) it just went ping! i couldnt agree more. And everytime I feel guilty or too tired. I will remind myself of this little gem and turn my phone off/get out my credit card/say no/etc etc...

...except when it comes to Christmas presents.

working girl

For some bizarre reason, one of my favorite films to watch as a kid was Working Girl. I liked watching Tess McGill change from this big haired Jersey girl to a still big haired Suit. Being a Suit looked important and exciting. Fast forward 20 odd years later and I've developed this aversion to all things Suit related. Maybe thats why I chose to slog it out in the meeedya industry for so long where converse and ripped jeans (albeit designer) were acceptable forms of workwear.

The knocks I've taken when I was still struggling up the industry ladder have left me with a lot of self doubt. Even now, in a nice stable role in the third sector I have wobbly days where I worry that I'm not doing enough or I've done too much or no one's taking me seriously. Having had nothing but glittering references from employers, the one that tops my list of humiliations (and there's been many!) was the time when I worked freelance for a start up digital company. My boss sat me down on the table next him (because you know...changing tables makes it all the more private) for a "chat". Silly little me came running over with my arms full of research notes and updates, sit down, pen poised, about to go through my findings when he hits me with "we're not going to ask you to come back next week, you just don't fit the dynamic of the office" Ouch. But that was the reason I was hired in the first place, to give them ideas outside of their box. Did I mention, I was also the only girl therefore all tea duties were assigned to me? As well as all the phone calls. I went from having a perfect employment record to being shown the door. Meanwhile, the snivelling, stuck up little brown noser who was hired alongside me stayed put. The same little rodent who declared he would never touch The Sun newspaper because it was chavvy. Granted, but it is the biggest selling newspaper in the country. Moron.

So on the spot I had to hand over my office keys, fight back tears of humiliation while feeling my face get hotter and hotter and do the walk of shame through the door. Even the time I was pushed onto the pavement by an irate shopkeeper (so he could interrupt the cameras and shout at June Sarpong) and I was made to apologise to him...this still doesn't come close to the walk of shame I had to do.

Months later, whilst walking through Soho one morning I had the displeasure of bumping into one of the slimy creeps who gave me a bright smile and chirped Good Morning! I couldnt believe that after the embarrassment I suffered from these guys, the panic of suddenly not having a job, the stress of trying to scramble for another job to make rent money, here he was all happy jazz hands trying to be nice!Giving him an almighty stare down, I gave him no ackowledgement and walked straight past him leaving him hanging on D'Arblay Street. Now that, as Mastercard would say, is priceless.