MOTHER, HOW DARE YOU?!

Of course I don't drink at work!

emcartoons.com

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

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!

Giggle of the day

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

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

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.

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)

Who says students only eat Pot Noodles?

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.

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.

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.

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.'

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!

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?

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.