The Birthday

I feel like death.

Literally have spent the day wishing it would all be over and I could wake up feeling normal. This is most definitely the aftermath of a good birthday. So yesterday I started my birthday events at 10am. Try going out at 10am dressed up in a tiny playsuit...the dirty looks I got were awful! We decided to go The Church- not religious in any way, in fact completely the opposite. It's where the sins take place! Unfortunately for me the choice was beer or smirnoff ice, so feeling 16 once again I decided to buy three bottles of smirnoff. We then were witness to a man being dragged on stage, stripped naked, covered in whipped cream and then set alight! If this wasn't bad enough he was then whipped by a woman in suspenders, and the act was soon followed by a guy getting completely naked and whirling his dick around. And all this before lunch!
After queuing for forty minutes for the loo I decided I had had enough of the crowds and we relocated to the pub opposite. There was a notice on the door saying they would not serve any church partygoers (i'm guessing they had to add partygoers at the end for fear they might sounds like heathens). After a couple of pints my cousin joined us and we headed to Shepherd's Bush Walkabout. After a few pints and a few shots on an empty stomach I was a goner. Photos tell me that I went off and pulled a stranger, memory however begs to differ. My friends realised I was a drunken liability and decided to buy me some lunch in a nice pub. In sed nice pub I then proceeded to trip over and fall smack on my face. Classy.
By now it was 8pm and my friends that were meeting us later were calling so we hoped in a cab and headed to acton town to The Redback. Now the redback for those of you who don't know is a very messy night out. It's where your feet get stuck to the floor, australians are groping your boobs and famous rugby layers lurk in the shadows. From here it all gets a bit blurry.
After piecing together photos and friends accounts supposedly I kissed a few more men.. (opps), stacked it again, proceeded to drop my friends drink and ruin his new trainers, have a conversation about piercings, pull a TC and have a massive white girl dancing boogie. At 12, in Cinderella style I was whipped away by my friends in a cab...I passed out and awoke today with a mother of a hangover. And let me tell you bloody marys are a great hangover cure, but throwing up a bloody mary. Well let's just say tabasco is something that should never reppear. It burns!!

Oh and to top it off my friend chipped half her tooth yesterday...and my cousin just found it in his pocket! Fantastic night, happy birthday to me!

If I can be serious for just one minute...

Why hello there...for a one off blog I just want to talk about something serious. Think of this as the advert break between my blog but try to pay attention!
Working within the fashion industry for a while I have obviously been witness to the skinny image that magazines seem to always present us with.



When Mark Fast (see picture above) used 'bigger' models (I say bigger in inverted comas because to be perfectly honest the girls were hardly big, they want big they should go to a mcdonalds in houston) I was jumping up and down for joy- and particularly for girls like me who LOVE food and will never ever be a size 8 let alone a size 6!
I automatically wanted to join the campaign against skinny models, when I watched Dawn Porter campaigning outside Hanover Square I was glad someone was taking a stand but after working for several publications I am beginning to realise that this is NOT the fault of the magazines.
Talking yesterday to my boss (I am currently interning for quite a long standing publication at the moment and so will not name names but let's just say they are FABULOUS people to work for) she informed me that she was all for the bigger models appearing in the pages of her magazines but was simply unable to get the clothes to fit models of a bigger size. According to her the PR companies simply are unable to provide her with anything above a size 10, the clothes that she can get in size 14's or even size 12's are UGLY and unflattering. I for one am simply amazed and appalled that sample sized clothes can not simply be made in bigger sizes, if the PRs had the bigger sized clothes then perhaps the magazines could call in bigger sizes and indeed show glamorous plus sized models within the magazines.
I then called several PR companies requesting clothes that were bigger than size 10 and only found a few (mainly the very cheap labels from the high street who could simply pull out a few items from their store) that were able to provide me with such a request.
Perhaps it's time to form a complaint to PRs, then magazines will have no excuse not to show just how beautiful us curvy girls are! Anyway no-one wants to look like a boy!

You say No, I say Yes

I gave myself one rule today- Be in bed by 9pm. What time is it now? 10pm. Great, the only rule out of the window.
I have a shoot tomorrow at 7am, resulting in me waking up at 5am. The logic therefore is that I get 8 hours sleep... so why on earth do I decide to keep myself awake at night by going for walks, visiting my friend in my local, stopping off to buy a magazine, UPDATING MY BLOG? Right now I should be upstairs in bed in a deep sleep dreaming of James Franco and a lot of handbags. But I'm not.
I am in all honesty a massive child in that way. If you tell me NOT to do something I will do it. For instance take the time at the dentist last year when he exited the room and I was left alone with a lot of appliances. Any normal person would have remained seated, shaking and examining the dental cards (ie. the scene in Mr Bean if anyone knows it!). Instead I thought it would be a great idea to start playing with the XRAY switch. Annoying nothing happened. I was expecting the room to shake, or a bit of electricution but nothing. What a let down.
Or there was the time when I was 13 and specifically told not to open my christmas presents. I opened all of them then taped them back together... my mum was none the wiser until I told her ( I really can't keep secrets, unless they're really big ones).
So now I'm going to go up to my room but no doubt another hour will be wasted by me moisturising, doing yoga or just generally wasting my life away. I guess I better text Kate and get her to order me an expresso for the morning. It's going to be a long day..

The sun most definitely has it's hat on...

Actually that title now has got me thinking...why does the sun have it's hat on? Is it scared of sunstroke? Is he/she/it waering a trilbee? Hmm discuss..
Anyway I am in a fantastic mood. I LOVE the sunshine, true I still have that glass wedged in my foot and I have a red raw back but I am having a day where generally things aren't going wrong!
On top of the wonderful weather I had an interview. I went along fairly relaxed and with the thought that this would not be that intense and I could walk it. Oh how wrong I was. How on earth are you supposed to discuss your flaws, your ideal team mates and your ideal boss whilst trying to make yourself sound like the perfect employee? Well somehow I did it as I've reached the second round of the applicants. Whoop de doo (I am sure this has nothing to do with the fact that my brother is a producer on Eastenders).
I then realised that in 6 days I will be out and about in many an australian bar, snakebite in hand celebrating another year of my life! I cannot describe my excitement. There are many things in this life that I enjoy but a few of them include snakebites, rugby, south african accents and the occasional cheesy music. My birthday is going to be a combination of them all. Oh yes I am hitting The Church in full fancy dress. Not only this, but I intend on heading to the redback bar afterwards. A full 12 hours of drinking, excited is hardly the word to describe it.
My friend Rob has even insisted that he is buying me a teapot. Now I had no idea what this is but apparently it is literally a teapot filled with shots that you share...but no no Rob is banning me from sharing I have to drink the whole thing myself. This spells D R U N K. (For one thing only the australians could take a civilised kitchen utensil and turn it into a drinking game).
So for now I'm happy and training my liver for the foreseeable hangover; a bit of miso, a lot of salad....oh and come sunday a lot of drink!

The night with the stupid waiter..

I have glass in my foot.
Yes I am a drama queen, it is only a piece of glass the size of a tic tac but still I like to make a scene so I will moan about it. The best part is that this morning I went to my mum with a pair of tweezers and told her to work her magic (mum can do anything literally. I swear if someone turned up missing half an arm she'd magically sew it back together). So I sat, foot in air as mum (armed with tweezers) sat underneath and scraped away at my foot- can I point out here that due to bad sunburn on my back I was also only in pants, covered in after sun and due to the pain biting into a towel- and also tried to suck this piece of glass out of my foot. Now if that isn't family bonding God knows what is (my feet are RANK, that is definitely love if someone is sucking at my foot).
But how did I get this glass stuck in my foot? Well imagine a real life Fawlty Towers Manuel but without the whole 'I know nothing' comical catch phrase. This waiter at the restaurant was so bad that not only did he manage to drop two bottles of water on my friend, and take two hours to get tap water, but he could not for the love of him work out our orders, meaning that the guy to my left ended up taking his order pad and taking the orders himself.
Then Manuel aka stupid useless waiter managed to knock over an empty bottle, it smashed everywhere and sed bit of glass managed to work it's way up my sandals and into my foot. We did get two free bottles of booze to say sorry but I don't drink white wine (of course I did when it was free, I'll eat or drink anything free) so I find that apology unacceptable. In fact I may now just write a very angry review on london eating. Yeah, that would really get to him.

See we all had fun despite waiter from hell.... this is everyone in the lift at Covent Garden as stolen from Tony. Everyone's happy in a lift.