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.

Glee

So I'm going to jump on the ohmygodiloveGlee bandwagon. But really I do.

Reason number 1:



Reason number 2:



That and the lines that Sue Sylvester comes out with...

I don't trust a man with curly hair. I can't help but picture little birds laying sulfurous eggs in there, and it disgusts me." Sue Sylvester

I really dont like curly hair on men either. Even you, Justin Timberlake.

Bend and SNAP!

Was January the longest month in history or what?

Roll on February and Spring anticipation! If you happen to buy Instyle magazine you will see a nifty little 20% discount code for ASOS. I used it to finally cave in and buy that pair of very impractical Vivienne Westwood platforms that I have been salivating over like a doughnut. For your discount, type in ASOSINSTYLE and may you do a little dance like I did when I clicked that lovely little Place Order button. Better than Christmas!

As I was off sick (yet again) last week I spent ages in front of the computer in my Primark pink onesie(SO comfy but slightly wrong!) downloading more songs from my yoof. I found a ton of good songs but my favorite was listening to TLC who will always be the craziest, sexiest and coolest chicas ever in my book. I didnt go as far as pinning condoms to my shirt and definitely left the pouffy hat to Left Eye...but yes, I'm pretty sure I tried to emulate the baggy t shirt and shorts look with Doc Martens. There were some dungarees involved too. At school, if you knew the words to Left Eye's rap in Waterfalls you were...ridiculously cool. And in case you were wondering...I was ridiculously cool.



I am so over Winter at the moment. I am not part of the pro Winter army that lust over the snuggliness of their winter woolies. Me? I prefer to not leave the house in 8 thousand layers and hoping that I make it into work before it rains/snows/sleets. I dont like standing with my legs crossed over each other while waiting for a bus or train that makes it look like I really need a wee and not a sad attempt at keeping the last bit of body heat to myself. Give me sunglasses and a cute dress any day.

twenty ten or two thousand ten?

My sunday veg out film was Inglorious Basterds. Over the top gross and bloody, but part of the Tarantino charm. It wasn't the sight of watching the Basterds scalp the Nazi's but the sound...ick ickety ick.

I had about 3 hours sleep last night filled with that back to work dread that occurs every Christmas holiday (except last year when I was out of a job and had many many many lazy lie ins to look forward to) so I did what everyone should do when they can't sleep and downloaded Clueless onto my iPod. And an audiobook too, just to see if I can be one of those people on the Victoria line nodding and laughing to myself on the commute home. Although this is the Victoria line we're talking about, anyone laughing or nodding to themselves is likely to be a crackhead.

I missed the start of Celebrity Big Brother last night, although I did catch Sisqo rolling out the Thong Song. I felt so sorry for the little man. I might actually watch this series just in case Bass Hunter (who I thought would be uber chav but is actually very scandinavian and buff) comes out with any more crackers to top "i'm going to touch bass, then go hunting"

Umm, okay then Jonas.

Another little uttering of awww was for Nicola T. I worked on Wags Boutique many a time ago now, and Nicola was actually quite lovely compared to a few brats who appeared on the show. This was also the show I was working on when the shopkeeper next door pushed me onto the pavement and snarled at me to fuck off and then I was prodded by the ice queen series producer to go apologise to him. Nicola T led the gaggle of WAG's at telling him to leave me alone. So, kudos to her.

Other kudos go to Davina for channeling her inner King Kong on national television. You go gurlfren.

party like its...2009

New Years Eve!

Are we excited? I'm not. Tomorrow's still Friday, and I still have to be back at work on Monday. Bah humbug!

What I am excited about is the cute little dress that I nabbed from All Saints! Its sold out in UK stores, but annoyingly, the US one is teeming with everything in my size. Grrr.



I spotted it at the All Saints shop at Stansted whilst waiting for my ill fated flight to Edinburgh for Christmas. I was going to get the blue one but only the brown was left in my size. And to think I was this close to forking out £110 for it a week before it went on sale!

My latest shoe porn fascination are these Vivienne Westwood Anglomania Wing shoes. In either gray or black.



I keep umming and ahhing over them, more over their practicality and not the £120 price tag. I keep telling myself that I will wear them throughout winter with my cable knit tights, when really I know that in the morning I will sleepily reach out for my usual skinny jeans and brown workmen boots with the hole in the sole. And will I really wear them in summer? Will I actually forgoe my annual flip flop tan lines on my feet? Its just not summer without them. So...I will continue to lust over the winged beauties until another pair replaces them. Shoe slag.

ink

Sometimes at work when I can't be bothered to work anymore and want to drown out any more work related issues- I frown...maybe chew a pen...tap the keyboard and say hmmm now and then and pretend to look terribly busy and in the middle of solving world poverty when really all I'm doing is cyber stalking on Facebook and refreshing Perez Hilton.

Today was much like any other day when I was zoning out. But this time was me time and I was researching ideas for my next tattoo rather than reading up about Vanessa Hudgens and Zefron's birthday date (they went out for a meal FYI, she had a pretty bomber jacket on)...oops.

SO, while browsing I came across some brilliant tattoo Fails. The best one I came across that had my jaw drop on its epic stupidity were these little gems:



Is R-Patz making a really really ridiculously good looking appearance in Zoolander 2? And the arm sleeve...there are no words I can use for this. Just. Stare. The hair do's scary resemblance to Jedward's is uncanny.

Bon Soir!

Daddy's Girl

"She’s my friend because we both know what it’s like to have people be jealous of us"

There was a debate on the radio yesterday about single dads, a subject I hold dear to my heart and not just because I am the original Daddy's Girl much like my beloved Cher Horowitz. I do think I had an unconventional upbringing, but it was fun and I was independent. I was all about the Girl Power long before the Spice Girls were kung fu kicking it out. My friends were envious at the lack of rules I didnt have implemented onto me. Bed time? What's that? Being grounded was something that happened to other people. As I got older, curfews were pushed to the small hours of the night and the word No was something I rarely heard from my Super Dad.

Being given all that freedom allowed me to learn from my own mistakes (such as don't try coming home at 4am assuming your folks will be asleep in bed) but made me learn to trust my own instincts and decisions, and best of all I had more independence than my entire class put together. Rather than wrapping me up in cotton wool he let me take my knocks, dust myself off and file that away as something not to do again.

Looking back now I can see how tough it must have been for my dad to raise a girl on his own, from a sweet 12 year to a pain-in-the-arse 18 year old. But he handled it amazingly and we made the best team in the world. We cooked dinner together, I would drive him home safe after a Christmas party (15 year old me at the wheel of our 4x4, bog standard really and quite illegal), one shared look was enough to signal "dont tell mum" and he would always put his Florence Nightingale cap on and peel my grapes for me when I was sick.

I'm sure there were times that I caused more than my fair share of those grey hairs on his head.

Single dads rock. Single mums need to scoot over on that pedestal...

...and in conclusion may I please remind you that it does not say RSVP on the statue of Liberty! Thank you very much.

baby it's cold outside

Last night I brought the 1950's back and put on some Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra tunes and strolled around the house in a dress and my (mucky) pink cupcake apron. I substituted the dry martini for a lychee rubicon though. Wrapping Christmas presents always puts me in the most festive, homely mood.

After a hectic day at work, running around a large 5 acre site, hijacking one of the work buggies, kissed a giant Rottweiler, put up three other Christmas trees, dealing with Security, Reception, and consultants, fighting my way through the rush hour, cooking dinner, laundry, and a general tidy up I felt like Carol Brady on a sugar rush.

This weekend I am off to peruse the Christmas markets of Brussels. Although unlikely, I'm imagining rivers of chocolate and cinnamon which I can dive into like fat little Augustus Gloop.

Where The Wild Things Are opens on Friday, so excited.

i'm just a teenager in love

I saw New Moon last night. I want to run my finger over this boy's abs and purr at him like Eartha Kitt.

That is all. I am still daydreaming.

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.