The Friend

I've decided to write a little bit about my friend Sarah. She in herself is a blog just waiting to happen.
We all have those friends that are just a little bit crazy...who are the ones that feature in all of our drunken nights out stories. Well that is my Sarah. The only difference is there is no line. That imaginary line that people have on nights out Sarah does not have, and she simply will not be embarrassed by ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING.
The first night I met Sarah was when I was 16 and she 15. Her brother was a good friend of mine and had brought her along to the pub one night (yes we all drank underage, who didn't?!). Within minutes of meeting her Sarah had not only set fire to her hair and broken a chair in the pub but she had proceeded to remove all the remaining drinks and food from the table next to us. Needless to say that from then onwards Sarah and I became very good friends.
Unfortunately for me however I do get embarrassed easily. I pretend not to and my guy friends try to get me red in the face and fail but Sarah manages it every time. When driving with her she will make sure that she plays 'Time To Say Goodbye' in Italian on the loudest setting whilst pulling into my tiny, private roaded drive way. Or the time when we went food shopping and she decided that I had to walk around pushing the trolley with a tiara on and very high heels whilst she then (sober) managed to drive straight into a DVD display.
When I was younger I thought that Sarah's acts could not get any worse. I was wrong. University and its hockey team brought with it a barrel full of anecdotes for Sarah to tell. The time she was dared to sit in Tescos in their freezer and is now henceforth banned from Cowley Road Tescos. Or the time she went to the kebab shop and proceeded to scream at the man that she was diabetic and therefore needed cheesy chips within the next 2 minutes, whilst trying to pay with her harrods card.
The best nights I have had have been with Sarah and her straightforward attitude. One night we were out in a club in Oxford and Sarah spotted Bradley from S Club 7. Sarah called him over to her where he then asked if he could have a cigarette. After a pause Sarah decided that he could but only if he sung her his solo part of 'never had a dream come true'. Bradley agreed and sung her his solo, he then asked her for his cigarette to which she replied...'Yeah I don't actually have any but thanks for the song' and walked off.
I could go on but feel that with the amount of stories that I have about her I could be here a while...so I'll leave you with the attached photo. It's the time that she raided a skip and found a child's toy car. After removing it from the skip and deciding to ride in it drunk down the hill it collapsed into several different pieces...

I'm a horrible person

I had to break the bad news to my stalker last night.
Apparently even stalkers have feelings, who would have guessed? It would seem that even they have to draw a line somewhere.
So as mentioned before I had tried everything to break bad news to this guy that apparently had a major crush on me. And by everything I mean every single excuse in the book; 'It's not you it's me. I'm a mess right now, I don't know what I want', 'I'm scared of commitment', 'I don't want to ruin what we already have'.
I even went on to tell the poor guy that I was going out for drinks with another guy...this resulted in him texting me every fifteen minutes to ask when I would be home, and to say that he hoped my date was going badly. Smooth. When I ignored these texts the phonecalls began...when I ignored these more texts began. It was like being stuck in a constant stalker cycle.
So last night I decided in order to break off this obsession I would have to say something that would put him off me in a massive way. I thought about the obvious- I don't like men...actually quite like your sister, or I have a sex addiction or even I used to be Alan but let's be honest none of these would have been remotely believable. Instead I went for the standard 'I got so drunk last night I had sex with someone I shouldn't have.' That doesn't sound too bad but believe you me the reaction I got from that was as though I had been dating him for years and just told him that I had been sleeping with his brother. (Can we please bare in mind that I had not even touched the boy at this point!)
I then faced an evening of angry texts, threats and mainly a great use of the word 'hurt'. It sounds cruel but it was like putting an injured animal out of its' misery. I am seriously confused about the role change however. Usually I am the crazy one who acts irrationally...perhaps I'm just not that bad. I was then informed that if I go to my local for a drink this week I need to 'forewarn him'. I mean really? The pub is opposite my house, do I really need to provide him with my alcoholic timetable? Because if I am being honest it would be far easier to simply tell him when I won't be in there.
Anyway so I decided that all this anger was for the best, I turned my phone off and went to sleep, waking up to a text from him this morning that read: 'So sorry I got so angry at you last night. I had no right. You're right we're not together so I'm sorry. Let's go for a drink this week. x'

You are kidding me?! Even when I'm a lying bitch I can't get out of this...

She loves me...She loves me not

Can I just randomly apologise before I blog. I have a bit of an obsession. An obsession with '....' and I apologise. I realise I do it a lot but it's very addictive to throw a little bit of 'dundundun' wherever I can....see what I mean!!



Anyway I have a bit of a situation at the moment. It was my birthday this week (cue songs, cake, champagne and pressies) and I made a big point of getting drunk and crying over the fact that no one had ever brought me flowers. I then decided to tell everyone I was out with that my favourites were orchids, of course I was not in the slightest bit hinting for one of them to buy me orchids but if they ended up outside a flower shop they could perhaps do me a favour...
My plan worked and the next day I recieved a pot full of orchids. Now what you have to realise is that romantic gestures like that embarrass me. They are lovely but I have never really experienced them. My longest relationship was with a very unromantic man. A guy whose idea of wining and dining me was taking me to mcdonalds and then ordering the wrong deli sandwich. He also brought me mint aeros when I craved chocolate, who does that?? Mint Aero is NOT a chocolate bar. But anyway... (I told you the '....' were useful) as I was saying these orchids were a massive shocker. Especially as they arrived with a note that used the word 'love'. Now that really is scary. It turned out the flowers had been delivered by my friend who had decided that after six or seven hours of me whining on about wanting orchids he'd just buy me some to shut me up.
I relaxed. But not for long. The following evening I recieved a text from sed platonic friend claiming that he had developed feelings for me. Ah. I knew there was a price to pay for getting orchids.
I played my girl card and used the typical girl excuse. I'm not looking for anything serious right now, I'm confused, I don't know where my head's at. Whilst also making a point of letting him know that I was still going on dates with other guys. I was very apologetic and made a point of highlighting my many flaws. I thought this had worked until I started to get texts every hour asking me to just try a date, to tell him why things wouldn't work out. Let me just say now that I am the biggest wuss (it took me a month to dump my ex because he kept crying everytime I tried and I couldn't handle it). I agreed to a date...I don't know how I'm going to get out of this one.
I'm debating licking tube poles, sitting near snotty kids or simply being hit (not lethally) by a passing car. Hmm perhaps it is slightly wrong that I'm willing to be hit by a car to escape the awkwardness of a one sided date. I definitely have some issues.
The worst however has been the CONSTANT texting. After leaving my phone downstairs for half an hour I had recieved ten texts and eight missed calls, the tone of each becoming increasingly clingy as time went on. This is one of the mysteries of men and women that I really don't get. If you ignore men or show them you're not that interested they suddenly LOVE you, whilst if you like a guy and want to be with him he runs for the hills in similar fashion to if you were to turn up with a ski mask and a chainsaw.
Oh well. Let's see how this one pans out.

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!