Saturday, June 30, 2007

The End is Nigh

So, only 6 hours and 30 minutes until the smoking ban kicks in across the land. In order to commemorate this momentuous moment, we trekked it to the chav pub around the corner so that I could smoke one or four last cigarettes in a public enclosed place.

mmm nicotine...

More! MORE!


death of the cigarette

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Tuesday, June 26, 2007

New Gadeget Alert

So, I survived the week from hell and the weekend was full of torrential downpours (which was quite nice actually), so I took the opportunity to get round to doing some things that I'd been putting off week after week. One of the final things I did was order a new phone. This morning, my brand spanking new Nokia N73 arrived in its environmentally friendly packaging (just as the lady at the other end of the phone repeatedly told me it would) and I was like a small child. I ripped open the box, keen to play with the shiny new thing. The boyfriend took that moment to point out that not only would I be late for work but I also wouldn't have enough time to charge it. He was right on the first point but not the second; it charged pretty damn quickly when I finally got to fiddle with it.

After a few frustrated hours of punching keys and trying to figure out how to make it all work properly, I must admit that I'm suffering from new phone induced anxiety. This morning, I suddenly became very nostalgic for my grumpy slide phone that likes to do weird things, like the flip the screen upside down. My new phone scares me; there are so many features, buttons, things to go wrong and make me cry out in anger.

I wish you could test drive phones. Actually try them out, not just fiddle with a display dummy in a shop or rotate a 360 degree picture online. It would make life so much easier if you could test it out for 24 hours, see how you go, if the two of you are compatible. But no.

And now, I'm the owner of a very scary phone.

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Wednesday, June 20, 2007

TGI Humpday

Thank God that from today, it's the downhill struggle to the weekend. The last few days at work have tested me in a variety of manners. On Monday, I got bollocked for a matter that was genuinely out of my control and then yesterday, I pulled a 12 hour day - into the office at 8 to collect suitcases and set up the work experience for the day, then off to a long ass day at the shoot I was doing. Few experiences have tested my patience as much and I finally understand that old saying 'never work with animals or children'.

Thankfully today was slightly more merciful in that for the first time in days, I was not in early or out late, although I felt really -and for want of a better word- minging all day, which is never pleasant when you work in an image-conscious industry. However, as it was said industry that made me so tired that I didn't have enough energy to wash my hair last night, I figured that they could deal with my greasy roots and droopy eyes for a day.

On my way home, a really cool thing happened. I was walking my usual root back from the station down a quiet road when suddenly I heard a roar of tiny bells. Looking up, the house I was just passing was circled above by about 40 pigeons and doves, all with their tiny ankle bracelets jangling. Watching them as they circled and swooped around the property repeatedly, complete with the chimes of their tiny feet rattling, was amazing. If I had been quicker of brain, I would've whipped out my camera and got a little of the experience for the record. However, my brain was mush and so I just let myself enjoy the vision.

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Saturday, June 16, 2007

So, you think you're cool, do you?

Before, I forget, I would like to post an open comment to the over-styled twats in the queue behind me at Gareth Pugh's show last night. If you want to comment on my shoes, either do it in your own time or if you must verbalise within earshot, do it to my face. Although, it would take some nerve when one of you is wearing Vivienne Westwood 12 inch heels that she can barely walk in and the rest of you have some of the sillies haircuts I've ever seen.

Anyway, Gareth Pugh. But for the grace of god, I managed to acquire some tickets to go and gawk at the V&A after work yesterday. It was a wicked show but unfortunately, I couldn't use flash so the majority of my photos are slightly motiony or dark.

Having experienced what Donny Darko would make given a sewing machine and several metres of black latex, we de-camped to the most anti-fashion-crowd pub we could find within walking distance to balance out the levels of bitchy fashion pretentiousness and for a very large glass of wine each to numb our fury. Grr. I will post a photo of my supposedly 13 year old shoes.

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Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Just because it's funny

If you missed the weekend delights of Shipwrecked, then you missed out on the wonders that were toffs Will and Stevie. Here, clearly drunk as newts in a pint of vodka (note: Will's arms, covered in sharpie scrawl including a crudely drawn penis), re-enacting David Hasselhoff's drunk video.

In other news, I went to see the Frattellis at Scala on Monday night. I'll admit I'm not a huge fan, and beyond the singles, I haven't heard anything but I really enjoyed it. It was a much smaller crowd than I anticipated, maximum 500. And such a happy, clappy bunch.

I'll post video and photos later.


Sunday, June 10, 2007


I don't want to go to work tomorrow.

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Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Woman Vs Bus

Coming out of the train station today on my way home from work, I thought I was lucky when a bus seemed to appear out of nowhere to whisk me and my heavy bags home in record time, rather than the mile long uphill struggle.

That'll teach my exercise hating ass. We pulled into the first bus stop, picked up some passengers and pulled away, up to a set of major traffic lights, which were red. Suddenly a rather large woman waddles up to the bus as it stands in the queuing traffic and demands to be let on. The bus driver says no as the lights are about to change, which I could understand - dude's got places to go - if you're late, you wait. Rather than admit defeat and wait for another bus (silently cursing), the woman took personal offence and proceeded to walk into traffic and stand in front of the bus, refusing to move.

The stand off had begun. Pretty soon it had drawn a crowd of teenage yobs who tried to force their way onto the bus and a bunch of drunk gamblers, drawn out of their darkened William Hill into the bright sunshine through curiousity and the potential of being able to shout and shake their fists. Whilst we passengers were trapped on the bus (noone was being let out for fear of the mob) we began to discuss the situation unfolding around us. One man kept repeating he was a spiritualist and that as such, he would let the woman on the bus. The rest of us all empathised with the drive over the loon and carried on checking our watches.

To cut a long story short, the police were called and funnily enough, once the woman caught wind of this, she moved to the pavement and back to the bus stop. By this time of course, the next bus had turned up and just as the police turned up, she waddled on and tried to pretend that nothing had happened. No such luck for her though. We got to watch as she got a ticking off from another officer for being a nuisance and we finally got to move along.

I can understand where she's coming from, sure. I've had plenty of buses refuse to let me on in traffic and it sucks. But you know what? If you're an adult, you get over it. You swear and shake your fist at the bus before sitting down and waiting for the next one. You do not act like a spoilt brat and hold everyone else up, random strangers who get caught up in your personal (and pointless) battle. Next time, run a little faster.

Especially you, Protest Lady, you looked like you could do with the exercise.

I'm sorry that I couldn't get any pictures of the baying crowds or the woman in front of the bus but I didn't want to join the bus driver as a target and Paparanti would've definitely led to bloodshed. Maybe next time, when I'm feeling a little more nihilistic.

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Tuesday, June 05, 2007

A Fortnight in Pictures

So, I've been away a while - I've surrendered my laptop to the boyfriend and temporarily taken in my mother's Mac while the spare room is redecorated. As such, I've been forced to befriend the Mac, previously my nemisis. I am a Windows sucker and no matter how many more people tell me Macs are better, I will not surrender my right for my computer to crash whenever it feels like it. However, I must admit that when forced to confront my hatred, I found that it subsided somewhat - provided I have a mouse with a right click, the Mac is not quite so evil as I would believe it to be and I must admit, I looks lovely perched on my newly clean desk. Unfortunately, I still can't get to grips with the weird keyboard but it's a case of one step at a time. Anyway, on with what the title says, a fortnight in photos with a little commentary, since otherwise the photos would look even weirder.

One of the most important moments in the last two weeks has been the epic cleaning of the desk. Since I moved home last year, my desk has becoming a dumping ground for all of the papers I mean to file, half-full mugs and trinkets from my handbag. That was, until the Mac came to stay. Determined that once and for all I would be able to see the actual surface of my desk, I spent a Sunday afternoon clearing, chucking and decluttering to the delight of my mother, who's watched the mountain grow in despair.

Here's the end result:

While it's still pretty chaotic, at least it's now contained chaos.

Last Monday, I went to watch The Sound Ex at Metros. Although they were first band on, we stayed for the other bands. The final band of the night contained a dude who dressed up in a floral sprig dress (how Pete Doherty) and some fairy lights, who plugged himself in for the last song and got much wooping from me - although I must point out that this was after several drinks, which will usually make me woop with little persuasion.

On Saturday, we went out to meet some friends for drinks and the star attraction once more occurred towards the end of the night after several drinks when we noticed a Stag Beetle under our table. We city folk were fascinated by this giant beast of an insect, whereas the boyfriend - raised in the country - raised an eyebrow at our intense (and admittedly drunken) interest in the 'little' creature crawling under our chairs. I say 'little' because this thing was HUGE and had pincers as long as my thumb, capable of grabbing the chair leg:

Shortly after, the Beetle was forced onto an ashtray and adopted by another drunken man at another table, keen on grossing out his girlfriend. I hope she forgives us.

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