Thursday, 20 August 2009

This Is NOT Goodbye...

...this is just an interruption.
I will be very busy over the next month or possibly longer. There is a glimmer of hope that my house sale is going through, so I am packing my bags... the biggest bag holds an awful lot of Estee Lauder products... and my hair straighteners.
I'm not sure where I am moving to yet... so watch this space... I will be around sporadically and will try to keep up as best I can with blogs. Hopefully everything will be done and dusted by Christmas and me and my Smeg fridge freezer will end up in the same place.

Tuesday, 18 August 2009

The Noughties

I have never really got used to calling this decade 'The Noughties', and it's nearly over. Is the next decade going to be called 'The Teenies'? And if [fashion wise] the noughties was about revisiting the eighties... are we now set to revisit the nineties... and in twenty years time will the eighties be back again? Is there ever going to be anything new or will we forever regurgitate old trends?
And finally, will trends change so fast that there are no trends?
I am feeling deep and philosophical.



In the eighties we were loved up with the sixties... and the seventies were thought of as the decade that taste forgot.... how times change.... or don't?!

Thursday, 13 August 2009

Messing About

The evenings of my youth smelt of Jazz aftershave and tasted of Jack Daniels poured over glassy chinkles of ice. Nothing much mattered except good lipstick, mascara, big hair and reciprocated urges. Thursdays officially marked the beginning of the weekend, when my friend Gina and I would see if we could club solidly for three nights in a row. I always think of Gina as my sophisticated side-kick. Now she really could suck the creme from an egg without smearing her lippy, and she always looked stunning in Miss Selfridge black lycra mini dresses and six inch stilettos, whereas I preferred tight belted baggy trousers from Top Shop and ballerina pumps. She liked to pose, and I liked to dance. We were a good team, she could immediately attract and I would do the chatting. We never used to eat before going out, perhaps we'd share an extra strong mint and a squirt of Goldspot spray in the back of the cab before we arrived at the club, but we'd usually be too hyped to eat food. Anyhow, one night Gina had been force fed a curry before coming out and she said that her stomach felt a bit grumbly but reckoned she'd feel better after a drink... so she drank... half a bottle of Piper Heidsieck Champagne, four glasses of house white and two Crème de menthes [looks like washing up liquid, but pretty with a pink cocktail umbrella]. We left the club at about 2am and there were no cabs left, but I never minded walking home, I liked to burn off the buzz. Half way home and Gina began to complain that she needed the loo really badly. She was desperate. Busting. So although it meant taking a short-cut through a really dodgy estate, I said we could probably use the loos on the platform at the railway station. By the time we got there I also wanted to go, and being faster on foot than she, I dashed into the only working cubicle. Big mistake. When I came out something terrible had happened. On platform 2 of the railway station was a perfectly round cow-pat. Still steaming. Very odd because we were in town. And Gina must have been knocked over by the cow because she was crouching on the floor still staggering to get up....
Oh happy days. No CCTV, only the station manager to contend with...

Saturday, 8 August 2009

That's Life, So Wot?

I have chronic PMT. I feel like breaking crockery; I have a dull headed feeling and I feel like I'm chewing cardboard. I am oversensitive. And I can hear fingernails dragging across a blackboard. I am irrational. My head feels like it's in a vice. Or perhaps I need a new vice? Or some advice?
I NEED SOMEONE TO BE NICE TO ME. Failing that, a Moscow Mule will probably do. And a fag.
Anyhow, here is a clip of film made by a media studies student.



I am now going to put myself in a secure unit. It is for your own safety.

Wednesday, 5 August 2009

Tried and Tested



I have tried Boots No7 Protect & Perfect Beauty Serum. I keep thinking it's called Protect & Survive or Protect & Preserve or Protect & Pickle. Anyhow, I thought I ought to try it after a scientist person tested it on a BBC Horizon programme and said that it could reverse the effects of aging. Well, I'm usually an Estee Lauder girl, but I thought I'd cut costs and try the Boots range. Results: the serum made my skin greasy and all my make-up slid off. I also tried the No7 pore minimising serum. This is like putting masking fluid on your chin and if you rub it too hard you get little white bits all over your face. I never usually have to pay for this kind of experience.

And don't think that cos your a bloke that this post doesn't apply to you. I am looking for a chap to test this:-



Come on, you know you're worth it.

AND, as an afterthought, why is it that when women age their skin gets baggy and saggy; it wrinkles, goes blotchy and then finally dries up and falls off, whilst men, on the other hand, just get a bit tired?

Saturday, 1 August 2009

Alwrite

I have a posh voice for answering the phone and a common voice for shouting and whining and chattering. Same goes for writing.
This is my shouty unedited writing:-


This is from my notebook. A private place that nobody is ever, EVER, supposed to see. You may recognise the post... only the pic isn't very good and I haven't got a scanner. Most of my posts begin in my notebook cos I can't really type. I can only manage one finger. Four if I concentrate.
And this is me practicing my posh writing. It makes me cringe because all I see are the squashed up letters and misplaced serifs. I don't know what it says. I think it's from an Oscar Wilde book. Again, as this is a practice sheet and not a final piece... nobody has ever seen it before:-


*Click to make big etc.