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.