Monday 27 September 2010

It's back and it's worse than ever!

The Scandilous Life will finally be back on your screens in a near future
Do you want to read all about my schizo life, split 50/50 between Jäger-guzzling, cocktail serving, high-heel swaying hospitality industry madness in London and loud-mouthed, cocky(to say the least), geeked out journalism in Medway where I edit a future award-winning student online newspaper and magazine? Of course you do!
And you can find it right here

Wednesday 30 June 2010

A bliss that tastes of strawberries and whipped cream

I finally moved the last of my belongings out of Liberty Quays, Kent University at Medway accomodation. I am out. It is finally completely off my hands. Staring out over Balham High Street I watch the cars and bright red double-deckers go past as the fruit and veg-guy packs up his raspberries and Jersey Royals for the day. The wind that carries the sweet smell of summer nestles its way in through the open windows and makes my boyfriend's pots of chillies on the windowsill dance in the setting sun. I can hear the laughter and muffled music from B@1 downstairs, and it mixes well with the sound of my guitar as I am tuning it.
It is the last day of June and I have absolutely nothing to do tonight. And on Sunday I am going to Sweden.

I can also tick two things off the list of "Things to do before death". Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney was two breathtaking concerts. 50 000 people singing/belching/slurring/bellowing along to Sir Duke on Saturday night underneath a starry sky over Hyde Park and fireworks in the sunset to Live and Let Die on Sunday. I honestly don't know what to say. And those who know me can tell you - that is rare.

Wednesday 23 June 2010

Champagne should be drunk on a roofterrace. Preferrably Aqua's


Whoa, did someone say an intense week?

End of exams celebrations with hugs, laughter and a mini bottle of rosé, rushing back to London for friends waiting with the Jägermeister on ice and even more hugs. Thursday will probably be crowned day of the year as the night celebrating my dearest Sarah Mitchell turning 21(I think) kicked off with Sagatiba training, Champagne on Aqua's roofterrace overlooking my beautiful Central London, a breathtaking Robyn concert and then - neither of us remember much more.
No need to drone on, yet I have to say that despite no more university, my brain is slowly but surely morphing into mashed potatoes. 12 hour shifts and little to no sleep is doing the trick.
But my dear chickens - get out in the sun! Screw the budget - it's not as bad as we thought! Yet someone made an interesting point. Through all the calculations of how much the low income to high income families would suffer etc. - no one had thought of the single professional household. Ones like me and my friends who tend to be unmarried, unreproduced, young professionals living in flatshares and working long hours with a despicable wage. What about us? Is this because we are a London phenomena?

Monday 14 June 2010

Dear internal organs

I am writing to you in advance to apologize for the horrifying events that will occur over the next four days(14/06/2010-17/06/2010) and sadly effect you and your partners. I am aware of the agreements previously set (see life contract, signed 25/07/1990) and the promises made by both parts to coexist under these, however, this will be an exception. Despite our relentless efforts to make vital cutbacks, certain areas will undoubtedly be affected more than others, such as liver and gastric functions.


My sincerest apologies and with best wishes for a swift recovery
Sara Malm

Saturday 12 June 2010

It's been 365 days

One year ago , she met a boy who hates sports and he met a girl who loves whisky.


The rest is, as they say, history.

Wednesday 9 June 2010

I am waving my wand and my exams are still there!

Bowing out of the Harry P Theme Park argument gracefully (read the clever opponents winning argument here) I have realised that I don't really want a Harry Potter Land Theme Park. I want Harry Potter Land full stop. Ten years after I read Harry for the first time and decided that no matter what happened I was going to be as close to this magical land as possible (yes, that is actually true, I was ten years old when I decided to move to England asap and it was because of J.K. Rowling - eight years later I did) I am still waiting for my Hogwarts letter.
Some would call me a romantic dreamer. Others would call me plain sad.

My feelings regarding politics revision

Tuesday 8 June 2010

Giving up phish for Battersea Cats

Good deed of the day:
I am giving up Ben & Jerry's in favour of a Battersea Cats and Dogs home Kitty Cabin. £10 a month (just about my normal B&J spendings) are going towards saving some fuzzy, cuddly kittens - not to mention reducing the lard-belt that is my midsection.


YEY, I'm a good person!

A picture of what to expect from the Harry Potter Theme Park in Florida

This is a promo pic for the Wizarding World of Harry Potter:


You know what I find is the most interesting part of this promo picture? The sky. That sky creates much of the mood and expectations in that picture. The warmth of the light from the fake Hogwarts and the authenticity of the snow on the roofs, is all thanks to that dark sky. The problem is: you would never get that sky in Orlando, Florida. Ever.

In Britain? Hell yes.

So it makes me wonder: Are they going to make a fake sky? Or are Harry Potter fans going to melt in their merchandise robes and hats under a scorching sun? I think the latter.
They can fake the pine trees and the rocks and the snow, the buildings, castles, bridges and lakes - but you cannot fake the British weather.

High time to bring the Harry Potter Theme Park back home to Britain

"... the fact is that Harry Potter is not American. He is British. Where is Diagon Alley, where they buy wands and stuff? It is in London, and if you want to get into the Ministry of Magic you disappear down a London telephone box. The train for Hogwarts goes from King's Cross, not Grand Central Station ..."

THANK YOU BORIS!


The London Mayor Boris Johnson writes in his weekly Telegraph column about the need to "exploit out intellectual property" and build a British Harry Potter Themepark



Finally someone from some form of British authority has reacted to the murder of J.K. Rowlings magical world. I never understood why there was a need to recreate Northumberland and London in Orlando, Florida when you could do it somewhere in the UK. The world of Harry P is not supposed to be in tropical heat (fake snow on the roofs of Hogsmeade in +28 C - I mean, are you kidding me?) Being one of those hard core Potter fans that re-read the entire series at least once a year and falls asleep pretty much every single sober night to the soothing voice of Stephen Fry (who does an excellent job with the audio version) this is something I will fight tooth and nail for. Not only because there is no way in hell that I could afford going to Florida. Harry Potter is my bible - and you know how stingy people can be about their religion.


Surely we cannot afford to do this with any government funds in the current economical climate, but there must be enough geeks with money to fund this? Boris, I advice you to give Richard Branson a call. Or how about Simon Cowell? Or J.K. Rowling herself? Why would these proud Brits not be willing to put some money towards this? The amount of money an English, substantially more authentic, Harry Potter Themepark could generate is scary.


"The Greater London Authority (GLA) is said to be “highly receptive” to any possible bids," - The New Civil Engineer

Sunday 6 June 2010

Doesn't it suck when even your mother's man is out of your league

Its not exactly news that I read gossip blogs. And its probably not really a splash that I hate celebspawns that have been given everything just because they have the DNA of some famous person. There are however some exceptions. If your mum is Demi Moore and you still end up looking like Bruce Willis, then you deserve some luxury as compensation.

How was your Saturday night?

In a bar, you sometimes have those nights, where there are just a few highlights in an overall shitty night. Last night was like that - just without the highlights. Douchebag United decided to have their annual clubmeeting in my bar. Oh the joy.
I had people throwing garnishes - a hen party that started a cucumber fight, and when all the cucumber AND mint was on the floor they went for the ice. Then some promoter with half of Essex in tow was 1 hour and 20 mins late for his bookings - just because you require VIP treatment does not mean you can act like a diva. On top of this another hen party dressed up as "Pink Ladies" where the maid of honour, straight out of Newcastle with the manners to boot, had the audacity to ask me "Can we have free drinks? Can we have free shots? Can we have half price drinks then? But its a hen party, can't you give us anything for free? " The answer was No, No, No and I don't give a flying fuck.
And these were the nice people.

Friday 4 June 2010

B-b-baby I'm a rockstar

Dr Geoff Ellis has done some research for UKTV Gold (why the television fee has gone towards this I have no idea), and come up with a connection between when you are born in a sibling group and the likelihood of success in certain areas.
Apparently the eldest child are over 3.5 times more likely to become a rock star than their younger siblings. Three quarters (75%) of the study sample of rock stars were oldest or only children with a personality that include being ambitious, energetic, people pleasers who crave attention.

Before one starts waving these numbers off as bollocks - it does make sense. As an eldest child, hopefully anticipated by your parents, you have all the attention from parents and relatives and you are the star of the show. Then, all of a sudden, without you even realising it, you have been demoted to a mere support act as a new baby arrives. Studies have shown that this shapes kids for life, and it is true! If you take away the rock star part of it, I am all those things. So it seems I have the statistic on my side. I guess all I need now is to be discovered.

"When all the data is considered together, a simple Chi-square test suggests than there is a less than 1% chance of the relationship between sibling group and role type being down to chance alone. When Rock stars are considered in isolation against the rest of the sample group, the probability of the results being purely random are reduced to less than one in a thousand."

I told ya, b-b-b-baby I'm a rockstar...

Thursday 3 June 2010

Dear readers...

... I am sorry to inform you all that this blog, known as The Scandilous Life, will hereby be no more. It appears that the talanted young author of this blog accidentally started to look at pictures of Aaron Johnson and drowned in her own drool.

I am sorry for your loss
/ Google


Wednesday 2 June 2010

An editor in the making?

Digressing more that a tad bit from my history revision I am reading about editorship in Andrew Marr's My Trade (a book that is going to save my degree if I ever saw one). Becoming an editor is my number one dream, it is up there with publishing a novel, owning a house, losing two stone and affording a pair of Loubotins and yet affording to eat and pay rent ( listed in order of significance). Without bragging I can say that already I have some of the qualities that I need - I get a kick out of being in charge, I am powerhungry and I have an ego the size of Oxfordshire. However - one major piece is missing. One piece that seem to be vital to becoming an editor.
I cant do conflicts and confrontations.
I can break down a person to crumbles, slag off his/her work, ethics, personality and apperance - as long as he/she is not there. I cant bear to be mean and awful to someone's face - mainly because I don't like the thought of making people sad (I go by the old saying that what you don't know wont make you cry) but more importantly I am shit in physical combat. I get nervous and lose my words. I avoid my opponets gaze, stutter something incoherent and walk around cursing to myself for the remainder of the day because I was too much of a coward to talk back.
Marr writes about the heaps of mail with abuse and negative feedback. All that negativity have to come off like water on a goose's back. With me? More like a drenched kitten. I take it all personally and go into a corner and cry. Seriously. I am absolutely awful with critique - maybe that's why I am so sheisse at giving it to others.

I need to toughen up. I need to become a complete bitch - and be OK with it. I've got anywhere between 10 and 30 years to do it. So feel free to tell me I'm fat, and wait for my retort.

Tuesday 1 June 2010

Enough said...

"Let us be candid. What an editor needs most is a monstrously large ego"

Monday 31 May 2010

MOTHER, HOW DARE YOU?!


Of course I don't drink at work!

emcartoons.com

Sunday 30 May 2010

Tabloid philosophy

"Tickle the public and make them grin
The more you tickle, the more you'll win
Teach the public, you'll never grow rich
You'll live like a beggar and die in a ditch"
- British newspaper industry saying, anno 19th century


Friday 28 May 2010

Here we come, walking down the street get the funniest looks from everyone we meet


A sunny Balham was the only thing that could possibly have brought some joy in my life today - and it did!
After boyfriend made the incredibly stupid mistake of saying "take my money and go buy breakfast. Buy anything you like", I skipped to Sainsbury's and went all out. Steak for lunch, cherries and strawberries and the greatest comfort food known to humankind. Swedish meatballs.

One is over, and now there is only seven to go - I filed my convergent journalism portfolio last night which included reports on; a Victorian courtship class for Valentines Day, the hospitality industry and the voucher culture and Pixie Lott's clothes launch. Did I hear anyone say 'feature writer'?

The uni newspaper is finally coming together in my head, and it's looking pretty good. Every time I have given one of my editors the outlines of something that I want to have for next year - they have already thought of most of it. I say it again; Honey I'm HOME!

Wednesday 26 May 2010

Tuesday 25 May 2010

Now I have something other than love of whisky in common with the Scottish

I have forgotten to tell the blog something. Despite being a little on the "strawberry blond" side over the past six months, I have now, accidentally, gone over the dark side. Or ginger if that's what you want to call it. It looks dreadful. red and dreadful.
The box said golden brown. It lied.

So there will be no pictures of me on Facebook or on this blog for another 24 washes.

"Ron had been suffering from swine flu and people were avoiding him. Luckily he was ginger and he was used to it" - Frankie Boyle on Deleted Lines From A Fantasy Film

Friday 21 May 2010

So I shouted 'Honey, I'm home!'

There is a little flicker inside my stomach, like a lonely butterfly. I am reading messages, suggestions, ideas that are bursting out of the amazing, creative minds that are my friends and classmates. 'We should have this!', 'I want to write about this!', 'Can I please do this?'
My new baby, the Universities at Medway student mag year 2010-2011, is starting to take shape. Going online, news bulletins, podcasts and investigating, innovative and imaginative journalism. Such is life for dogs like us.

And they're my team. My ickle chickens. A pack of gossip girls, daredevils and slick hacks led by (in my own words) 'an amazonian goddess in pretty shoes', ready to release Scandilous on the world.

I'm so excited

Thursday 20 May 2010

And also I thought I was funny today...

Bad, bad, baaad tequila

When you wake up to the sound of a London ambulance and the morning sunshine physically makes it hurt just behind your eyes, that's when you know its bad. When you wake up and walk into the kitchen, only to walk out again because just looking at food was enough to make you want to vomit. When the crowd at Balham station makes you dizzy and having to stand on a packed train even just as far as Clapham Junction makes you nauseous beyond belief. That's when you know it's up there with New Years Day and the morning after graduation. When you finally get to Victoria and find out that you are in fact not supposed to be at uni until 12, which means you couldve slept for another two hours AND the woman at Burger King keeps saying "We do breakfast menu until 11" dispite you pointing out that "You slogan is 'Have it your way', why can't you just make some fries?" with a voice desperate for fast food and a sugary drink, that's when you know the day is a lost cause.

Tuesday 18 May 2010

World, this is what I think of you


Phone stolen, cannot pay bills, cannot call mother, boyfriend or employer, I am officially broke(which is not a good thing when you need to buy a new phone) AND I have seven exams crammed in the first two weeks of June.
(thank you Nash for helping me express this through you)

Saturday 15 May 2010

Very generally speaking...

... there are two types of cocktails bars in London, American and English style.

American style cocktail bars: They are either in posh hotels and staffed with ponsies who believe that the costumer is there for them (and not vice versa) and they take pride in knowing 13 different shaking techniques. OR. They're speed bars a la TGI Friday's, where most drinks are spiced up with sweet-and-sour mix and the frozen strawberry daiquiris sell like naked girls in Soho.

English style cocktail bars: The bartenders who roam this oak are constantly trying to outgeek eachother by coming up with the most outrageous combination of ingredients in their drinks - wierdest drink always wins, and the one who has gone through the most effort (making a glass out of chocolate, home grown spices, steeping herbs in the most unobtainable liquid you can imagine - the list goes on) wins the competition. They take ten minutes to make one of their cocktails and think it's ok.

I love them both. Like a mother loves her child, a lover loves another and like a pregnant woman loves wierd food - like a bartender loves Jägermeister.

Friday 14 May 2010

Exam reading just isnt my thing


I am beginning to think that the only way I am going to manage to get through all the reading for my history exam is to devour it. Andrew Marr's My Trade was quite yummy.
Massive breakdown last night which included calling the boyf at work and making noises similar to a distressed camel. It took almost five minutes until he understood who and what was calling. Exam pressure - its serious business.

Thursday 13 May 2010

I don't know why I'm not more embarrassed

THE NEXT BRITISH BOYBAND - CONNECTED!
Am I a paedo for wanting to marry them all?
They're so adorable! I want to have kids like them.


Too bad that it is highly likely that I will become a career bitch, which means that I wont have time to push my kids in to fame due to my own failed teenage dreams. Was that too judgmental on their "supportive" mothers? Just a thought.

Wednesday 12 May 2010

Crucial update!

The lack of updates is due to the unexpected death of my wireless router, which will hopefully be sorted by the end of this afternoon. Only time can tell..

IN OTHER NEWS
Cleggy is no 2! CamCam is in charge and apart from this short lunch-beer-and-internet break at the pub, I have been glued to SkyNews and BBCNews since last night. I even got up at eight this morning to follow it. I can only imagine the amount of yelling done by editors and all the empty cups of black coffee on news desks all over the country. Aaaahhh...

I am taking over the Universities of Medway student magazine next year, and in the breathing space in between news obsessing, shorthand practice and history studies I am planning for next year's paper. It will be awesome. I hope.
- Watch this space...

Q of the day(asked in a gossip related conversation): What do you wish people said about you?
A:
'Most women in her position are workoholic, power hungry evil bitches, but she is actually quite nice. Fiesty, but nice.'

Friday 7 May 2010

Fresh from the press conference!

There is such a thing a bliss. And his name is Jake Gyllenhaal.


More to come when the rest of the pictures are working!

Wednesday 5 May 2010

I want to bash people who say gingers are ugly over the head with a Mad Men DVD

This is what I want to look like. That is perfection. Ever since discovering Christina Hendricks I have seriously contemplated going ginger in a bid to look like her. Jawdropping.

... And then there is fashion journalist Cathy Horyn who said "You don't put a big girl in a big dress. That is rule number one", after seeing Christina attend the Golden Globe Awards in this dress:


Cathy Horyn looks like this:

Jealous much?

Tuesday 4 May 2010

Sara Malm - Celebrity reporter!

Celeb interview no 2! I am set to go to the press screening/press conference of the new Prince of Persia: Sands of Time. It starrs Gemma Arterton who is a local Gravesend girl, and I am set to interview her on fame and fortune far away from her roots. Attending the press thing will be - and I quote: Jake Gyllenhaal, Miss Arterton herself, Sir Ben Kingsley, Mike Newell who directed HP and the Goblet of Fire and Jerry fucking Bruckheimer.
Oh.
My.
God.

Friday 30 April 2010

And look...

... what happens when you google Pixie Lott. That's ME!

MY FIRST PUBLISHED ARTICLE!

My first published article with byline. I am a little bit proud.
(fuck it, I am a lot proud. probably only triumphed by mummy)

LolCleggz and a weekly report

One week down at The Kent Messenger Group! So far I have reported on Pixie Lott , the London Marathon, the Election and a single mum who is being maltreated by the council.
Local news is a lot more fun than I expected.

However, might be more cut out to do magazine editing after all. We will see, only the future can tell.

I discovered the funniest election thing so far. Lolcatz ("I can haz cheezburger?") has become LolCleggz! They are brilliant!


pictures are shamelessly nicked from popbitch.com

Thursday 29 April 2010

The Queen and I

I am going to see the Queen!
No, no, not Lizzie (frankly, I don't think she would enjoy Heaven) but the Queen of Kick-ass Boom-Booming Popelectro Bbbbeats - ROBYN!
I know, my tummy just wont settle.
She is playing at Heaven in June and I've got two of the pre-sale tickets. Yey! I have been a massive fan for as long as I can remember - we are talking me as a five-year old singing 'Do you really want me' at the Daycare Centre. Others have Madonna, Beyonce and even Lady Gaga: I have Robyn as my ultimate female icon. Wow.

Wednesday 28 April 2010

Bangkok protesters use children to fight their battle

Photo: Marcus Wennstam, aftonbladet.se

Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet reports from the violent protests in Bangkok where the government critical 'Red shirts' are preparing to go into acual battle with the military. their strategy? Sending children armed with slingshots to the frontline. Aftonbladet writes(my own translation): "The warriors are made up mostly of boys in their late teens. They wear black clothes and red scarves. But in the front are also children not more than 10 years old. One of the boys are posing proudly with his slingshot. he is wearing a white plastic helmet on his head and a simple mask covering his mouth. Instructed by one of the older boys, he clenches his fist and stares into the camera. His enemies are waiting a couple of hundred metres away. Thousands of soldiers armed with automatic weapons, water canons and tear gas."

Am I the only one who hears "Cambodia, Pol Pot, Khmer Rouge" ringing over and over in my head?

Scandilous Life meets Pixie Lott

Guess who is off to interview Pixie Lott about her new Lipsy collection this afternoon?
Yes, ME, ME, ME!
I am getting a press pass and everything. My first real press pass. Now this is what it's all about. I'm jumping in my chair and doing 'retard claps' and humming along to Miss Lott's 'Band Aid'

Tuesday 27 April 2010

On education

One thing that amazes me about my adopted home-country is the hatred of good education.
"What did she say?"
Yeah, that's right. "David Cameron went to Eton - what an upper-class twat, we can't have him - and Nick Clegg went to £28k a year Westminster School, he is not in touch with the working classes"
Wtf? Westminster School has the highest acceptance rate at Oxbridge Universities, is that not evidence enough ? (and don't give me that bias crap - I went through the application process for Oxford Uni, and that sort of bias is left behind) And Eton, how exclusive and selective it might be in the end, is jawdropping.
But no, that's no good for the Brits. Why would 'a man of the people' i.e. working class have a better understanding of how to run one of the world's greatest nations that one that has had the best education the country can offer?
It is all beyond me.

Tell me Britons, if you had a choice - would you put your kid through public schools?
I wouldn't.
If I had an extra 28.000 every year per future child I would send them to Westminster School in a hearbeat.

... and also, to Jackie Madden (the woman who so loudly protested against the idea of free schools during Cameron's speach in Romsey yesterday): Of course they will take money from the state schools - the whole point is to give each student a school funding that will go with each student - wherever the child attends. So yes, the state schools will miss out - but only if there is another schools that is better. I went to a free school started by a group of parents who thought the existing local state school was abysmal - creating something better because the opportunity was there. Saying schools will "loose out" because of the competition like saying (in the words of D. Cameron) "Isn't is terrible that the BBC has to compete with ITV?" And invest in a Wonderbra - they were all over the place.
Photo: dailymail.co.uk

Sunday 25 April 2010

The end of an era - pt. 2


It is the same feeling I had when I left Sweden. I know I am going to something good and exciting, but leaving my loved ones behind is harder than I thought.
I had my last night at LAB/Academy Bar yesterday and bathrobe-clad vikings, ducks and sailors all joined in and made it a good one. Danny set the bar for the evening at the start of shift when he put on my frilly black knickers (don't ask me why he chose to ask ME for extra undies) underneath his Presidents' Club bathrobe. Delightful.
I cried in the end. Loads. I am going to miss it. The bar, my little work family and all the regulars that I have gotten to know. I salute you. Thanks for the Jäger.

Wednesday 21 April 2010

A clear sexist mind

Am I the only one who thought Timbaland's first line in 'If We Ever Meet Again' ft Katy Perry was "Would somebody like you do it in a place like this"?


(oh yeah, he is actually singing "What's somebody like you doing in a place like this")

It's a holiday, let's celebrate!

Look, look, look! It is still sunny in London! Balham is glistening in the sunshine and I am awake!
The strange thing(or one of them) about Balham is the number of estate agents down the high street, just between the numbers 73 and 154 (about the walk from my house to my fave local pub - i.e. not that far) are 14 estate agents. Mad...

Frightfully dead shift last night, yet still managed to stay alert and energized due to shedloads of espresso and some scandinavian shenanigans.

Wore this one to work - explains all.

Tuesday 20 April 2010

The end of an era

I am bracing myself for my second-to-last shift at LAB tonight. After working for the company for 1,5 years (first bartending at massive FAIL ChelseaBar, then waitressing at legendary LAB, with a short three month stint at Townhouse in Knigthsbridge, before coming back home to Soho where I belong) I am leaving. There will be many many tears, probably even more Jäger. I love LAB and those who have passed thorugh over this year have all become part of my London family.

Me and another scandilous Swede, Victor

Glenn smashes drinks

My big sis and former boss Sarah who is now going to be my boss again at graphic bar

Victor and Danny behind the bar

Ready to rock out another shift

My beloved french croissant Machi and Vix
Photo: Des Yatigammana

(oh yeah, and I've ordered temporary tattoo paper so that I can try out possible tattoos on myself. I promise they will not say 'Ian forever' nor be a butterfly. Stay tuned for news)

"Um, doctor, I need you to get this off my penis. I don't know how it got there I SWEAR!"

This is the Rape-Axe. Bascally a female condom with little 'shark teeth' on the inside. Rape-Axe goes inside vagina. Braindead jerk decides to rape girl with Rape-Axe. Penis goes in Rape-Axe but does not come out. The Rape-Axe 'bites' back and has to be surgically removed from the guy's penis. You see the little teeth in the picture? Yeah, they latch on and cause extreme pain.
Hell yeah.
And also, it effectively makes rapists hand themselves in. If they do want the Rape-Axe gone from said genital - they need to go to the hospital.

I think it is brilliant. However, both boyfriend and my flatmate, after they stopped ooh-ing and ouch-ing, pointed out that it could very possibly turn into a weapon against a cheating partner and how that would ruin the purpose of this rape protection device. I say, if you've cheated, you deserve the biting condom.

Sunday 18 April 2010

Truly a frabjous day

Okey chicks and chickpeas, before I ladidida out into the glorious sunlight in my flowery playsuit and the fake Chanel's, can I just say : HELL YEAH NICKY BOY! Go Clegg! Let's hear it; Liiiiiiiiib DEM!


Toodles!

Thursday 15 April 2010

I'M ALIVE!

I have just come out at the better end of my second-worst near death experience (the first being when I was in the Costa Rican rainforest on the back of a cantering horse and all of a sudden night falls, and its pitch black within fifteen minutes). Hot Bikram Yoga.

Five minutes in and I thought I was going to die. As flexible as an 85-year old and about as toned as the Muffin Man, it was pain, pain, pain. Now, 90 minutes after the class finished, I think I might go again tomorrow. I must be part sadist.

Wednesday 14 April 2010

I research better than the researcher

I am deeply immensed in articles about gender equality/gender theories regarding South Africa as a research for my Guardian International Developement Journalism Competition piece. They're written by my brilliant cousin Johanna who is on her way to start her PhD Candidate in International Developement Relations (or something even more complicated) in Roskilde, Denmark this autumn. She's quite good at what she does.

It is needed to go through tons and tons of research for this, and my brain is working feverishly. I better save this for the journey home and take a shower and get my arse into gear. I am, after all, going shopping this afternoon. Mantra: "I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes, I don't need new shoes."