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.

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.

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!

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.

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."