This made me giggle in the silent section of the Drill Hall library

nicked off Sands Media Services blog

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.

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...

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

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.

Enough said...

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