YOU SPIN ME RIGHT ROUND

It seems a lot more people than I expected enjoy my bullshit so I am going to try and post a couple things tonight...

This would be my best friend in London Mistress Ivy hard at work. She's a librarian. I shit you not. I am waiting for her to explain this one to me. Watch this space..

In other news (and this is such a 2010 thing to do! *barf*) my brother and I are in the middle of plans to enter and start training for this...and I promise (if I don't get it commissioned for a feature), that if all works out, my progress will be a regular segment on here so you can keep abreast of every muscle I pull, bit of food I throw up, 2-pack I gain, strand of chlorine-massacred hair I cry over, and such, and such...

BROKEN BONES AND EXPOSED HEARTS

Just remembering a moment (the first Hoodoo Voodoo party ever).
I miss London.
A little more than a little.
Especially Fi and Becks.
Keep the bed warm for me, guys. I'll be back soon. X

WHATEVER'S LEFT

I may not be as design-tastic and talented as my home girls in the last post, but sometimes I have great ideas too...?

Can't believe it took me this long to post this necklace up. I've kind of been wearing it around London near non-stop since december. Maybe if I weren't so lazy about my wardrobe postings, I would've worn some all-black ensemble with this and snapped a photo for you just so you can get the full essence of how fucking cool this piece can be. Oh well. You guys have imaginations, don't you? I need a photographer.

On another note:
YOU GUYSSSS! WE GRADUATED YESTERDAY!!!! well, you did. I took up a trip to Los Angeles instead (my grandfather is going to kill me). But you guys look so dap. LOVE YOU!

MEMOS FROM HELL, AND BABY IT'S GETTING HOTTER ALL THE TIME

I'm getting sick. Just when I thought I had escaped it, I think I got swine flu today. Today was my car boot sale with Becks. It was...scary. There are a lot of poor, grubby, ugly people in London, reaching out and just grabbing, plucking, throwing around, vilifying...We barely parked and rolled out of the car strapped in bags when they all started gathering very very quietly waiting for us to set up. Not a sound! They just stood there. And when I bent down to unzip my suitcase, they pretty much helped me do it. Everyone crouched down too, and then...GO! They didn't even give me a chance to put it on the racks. It was so gross. So scary. Also I didn't make much money because it was depressing how devalued they wanted my stuff to become. All my expensive purchases were just being whored out. I nearly cried after my big blue quilted Chanel-esque bag walked away with some Asian girl for £6.

And then at one point, Becks' bf Leo just started putting up tags on my containers saying 50p and I had to run after him yelling and ripping them off and sticking them on me instead. Then he gave me a lecture on selling to the Battersea masses, and then I agreed to have one 50p pile. More grabbing and germs later, when things were starting to pick up because I dropped the prices a tiny bit, I started throwing things across to the 50p pile every 5 minutes. I just didn't care anymore. Made a fair amount but nowhere near what I had in mind, which is why I was glad to pack up half my stuff once it hit 4:15 and take it back home to my friends who appreciated it. I was folding one of my awesome big, grandpa, tartan jumpers from Pringle and found that the label had been ripped out because someone tried to 'un-designer' it, which then left two huge holes in it at the nape. PRINGLE IS STILL STITCHED ON THE SLEEVE, YOU FUCK WAD! AND, YOU DIDN'T EVEN BUY IT???!!!!
So back home. Now things are quite calm around here. Slowly but surely, the money is presenting itself, the material lifestyle is evaporating and I'm sitting here awkwardly listless because now I actually have a stretch of time with nothing going on for a couple of days, except for the odd chore (banking, uni, groceries, clinic). This weekend was intense. Scrambling to finish 3 reviews, sorting and organizing and dumping and folding and tagging and lugging...Now what?

(LOOK! I ADDED A CHARM TO MY COFFIN BAG! AWWW!)

The last 2 weeks in London are pretty much gonna be selling, dropping off my obscene amount of fashion mags at the campus clinic like I did last year, giving a big, swift middle finger to this flat, visiting family in Cambridge and Catford, making stately wasted appearances at the two parties my two different groups of friends are throwing me, getting all bounty hunter on people's asses to get paid, and the odd champagne reception and summer ball. Yeah, there's some champagne reception for soon-to-be graduates this Thursday that I'm really only going to for the free booze and because a friend is meeting me there to buy my Skin Two Yearbook. Also I think my mom wants the picture they'll be taking for the future Kara shrine she'll start building this summer.

A bunch of us were going to go to Norfolk for a couple days and stay in my friend's old caravan on the beach getting stoned and drunk but I had to back out because there's just too much to be done in London before I go. I can't sell my shit if I'm stuck hungover for two days in a caravan on the outskirts. Plus I think our ride's brother got a girlfriend and so he's been hogging the car. I'll get in plenty of beach in California anyway, and if need be (which need won't, because I don't light up), I think I've got my weed sorted in LA. Plus it's cold here. You guys shouldn't even have beaches. Such a fucking pointless waste.

Rant over.

P.S. Becks, Leo and I stopped for a drink after the sale and ended up at West Putney Tavern and Leo came back from the loo and was like 'your name's up in the men's toilets.' So my 5-star review of their bar is up around their pub. I looked grubby as hell in my black hooded sweater with the hood up and bags under my eyes so I think the manager was just being nice when he smiled and said, 'Ah! It's a really good review.' He didn't believe I wrote it. Leo took a picture that I will send to my mummy!!!

I AM LEAVING THIS HARBOUR, GIVING URBAN A FAREWELL

So I got a little bit excited after confirmation of the Becks/Kara Yard sale collabo. Dollar signs invaded my brain and I started upsetting my room. Some shit I will be selling...
Junk jewellery
Naughty books...and the occasional influential one
Stupid drinking games
Really long Hello Kitty twist-up crayons (awesome, trust me)
Metallic pillows
Wannabe Chanel handbags
Ugly green frilly tops
boxes of foreign cigarettes
Skanky dresses

scarves, and scarves, and scarves...
...and if I can get away with it...Just kidding. Right? AM I?!

Lots and lots more shit obviously. I'm thinking all clothes items will go for a fiver (okay, some may be 10 - sorry, this is about making some money here), 2009 mags going for 50p and shit, really cool books and shit...a couple DVDs (and shit). You know the drill. Hey! Should I sell mix CDs?!

Oh and I just got this amay-hay-zing idea as well. But it's going to involve some paint and LOTS and LOTS of vodka.

I MUST NOT THINK BAD THOUGHTS

Hi. Trying something new.

7:30AM: Why? I roll around and open my eyes despite the question. Just to make sure I remembered it, I say out loud the new Tagalog phrase Panda taught me last night when we made up spectacularly. 'Gusto ko lagi ka masaya' = 'I want you to always be happy'. Great, I do remember. I'll get up at 7:30 no problem now.

8:25AM: Start making Wednesday moves. Boil water while I shower so that when I get out I can grab a cup of tea and take it to my room. I decide to be cheery today and wear my yellow wedge heels (who would've guessed I owned those? - I'm surprised myself when I dig them out from behind God's back). These are going to make my day special, I decide.

9:15AM: Catch the first bus out. My yoga teacher (whom I have an awkward relationship with) is standing behind me waiting to board the bus. He wears glasses on his days off, I note. It's becoming. He pretends he doesn't recognize me so I do the same, because my wedge heels are making me awesome and indifferent today.

9:35AM: Catch two trains to Liverpool Street station. The train operator on the District Line leg of the journey to Edgware Road is happy about something. He greets us cheerily on the PA, reminding us not to forget any belongings, to have a Happy Easter and to take it relatively easy on the chocolate. He says, 'Don't forget to get off the train. Or else you'll be stuck with me, all the way back to Wimbly-don.' He explains that he gave up alcohol for Lent. Everyone is smiling as they get off, including me.

10:20AM: Arrive at L. Street 30 minutes too early so pop into WHSmith and hound the magazine racks. As it seems I already have most of the latest, I struggle to choose between Surface and the latest Harper's (two completely separate reads that I don't even follow - but research has 'search' in it for a reason?). I choose US Elle. I order a tall Chai Tea Latte from Starbucks outside, and sit in the sun marking up the copy. There's a piece on this african artist called Wangechi Mutu, whom I decide I love (her new stuff, at least)

[courtesy The Saatchi Gallery]

11AM: Office. For some reason, everyone's checking in on me and being super friendly. The editor loves my shoes. There are a lot of stairs here though, and a lot of stacks on those shoes. A young muslim girl working upstairs as a case worker, chats with me for a while and we get off to a good start. She says if I need anything to let her know. The front desk woman comes in later on and gives me her extension number in case I need anything as well. I've been interning here for a month now. I do a couple hours proofreading some material due for print soon for the next issue. Some of it is my own work; a couple of book reviews. Rad.

2PM: Get so caught up in proofreading that I miss lunch at 1, and my editor shoos me away. I head to Noodle King for a plate of vegetable fried noodles. I love tofu. I love mushrooms. I take half home for dinner later. They're ridiculous.

4PM: Leave office, but my wedges tell me to get some ice cream before I go home. I buy a scoop of coffee and a scoop of tiramisu from the place next door. It tastes like a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of vanilla with chunky chocolat-y things in it. I begin to think I should've waited until I got to South Kensington and picked up some gelato from Oddono's, because nothing beats it. Lots of commuting ensues.

5:30PM: Get home. Collect my delivered Amazon copy of The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith from the front desk. Respond to emails, make lists, Facebook, start reading, catch Panda online and tell him good morning. We talk for a bit. He gets me jealous as he's meeting T-Mac for cheap sushi in L.A. today. I begin to taste rice in my mouth and consider heading to Hare and Tortoise for dinner.

8:30PM: Get lazy and pass out.

4:00AM: Up again. Eating the rest of the noodles and listening to X radio on Last.fm. Also lazily browsing WAH magazine's old blog (cool projects coming up soon...) and I'm So Sure. Panda and I have a Skype date in a bit as he's going away on a special thingie for two weeks and I won't be able to reach him. Found this on the old Wah blog and loved it:

That book Adulterers Anonymous sounds good as it's a collabo with Exene from X. I take it as a sign that I'm watching this and listening to X radio so I head over to Amazon to consider ordering a copy.

WELL HERE IT COMES, HERE COMES THE NIGHT

Oldie but goodie. Ya, I've been doin' that on a Sunday night; going through old photos. Me (middle) and some friends back home at one of the most over-hyped clubs there called Zen. Intense face, yes. Force fed scotch all night. My friend is a weekend DJ there and, for some reason, visiting home again makes me a celebrity to my friends so they pretty much hook me up. Well, his free drinks card is pretty limited; hence scotch; hence this. And yes, that is my best friend's foot on the countertop.

Some things I am grateful for:

1) Having spare foreign currency in my wallet. Today my card refused to give me any money possibly due to some disturbance in the chip, said the overly informed Tube station assistance lady. Luckily I was stuck in the tourist centre of the world (Piccadilly Circus) so this very nice man behind the counter at the currency exchange totally understood when I shoved 6 US dollars under the glass and said 'Ya. I need to get home.' I laid off on the yuan, dirhams and TT dollars, thinking that a bit much, and just legged it after the next bus with the four warm pound coins in my hand. I guess HSBC missed having me come in to complain all the time. Congratulations guys, you managed to stay un-fucked for... 3 consecutive months? What number card is this I am going to have to order now? 3?

2) Finally acquiring my mom's fuck-you-I-can-have-this-if-I-want-to attitude. So I emailed up Yoga magazine again after their 'prejudiced' rejection and the editor found that impressive so I start Tuesday (I thought that only happened in movies). Panda, I am glad you find that sexy. It's a shame there's nothing we can do about that as the Atlantic Ocean and several other countries render us impossibly distanced on the bed I am imagining.

3) The fact that I didn't get so wasted last night at the Big Chill House that that wasn't my high heel shoe on top of the roof of a bus stop shelter this morning. Cinderella, a Londoner's rendition? When are you blonde drunkorexic hoes going to realise how lovely shoes and a liver are? Bleh, I haven't realised the latter yet. But anyways, point is that wasn't my shoe. I was wearing Vans. (How cool would it be if homegirl followed my blog and I was able to help her find her lone fugly shoe by calling her a blonde drunkorexic hoe?)

4) For candid acquaintances like Leo (cousin Becks' boyfriend). "Do you know how difficult it is to make someone in another country want you so bad for your skills that they feel the need to go through the laborious process of petitioning you for a work visa? Does your boyfriend know that? I don't get it. Why doesn't he just marry you? It's not like you can't get divorced straight afterwards." *shrugs*

IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY

Normally people say when life gives you lemons..blah blah blah. Fuck lemons. I like strawberries. And when life makes you want to stick an air-filled syringe in your left eyeball, I am going to make organic pancakes with pure maple syrup and strawberries on top; with chai tea (not pictured).

After that, in the evening, you might get a pint of cider, lager and black currant, watch a movie, neglect friends and fall asleep to the amazing band you're missing perform tonight (pardon the utterly shit video). Actually, I'm listening to this one, but not very band representative, is it?

I swear, if I could cough up £11 a session at the Hot Bikram Yoga studio that I used to work at, I would be there. Bikram Yoga is my drug of choice. Nothing gets you more amped up and aired out for a night of raving until 6am, then explicit sex (if that were available to you) until it's breakfast and time for pancakes again like Bikram Yoga. Intense fucking energy.

And I swear, whoever has my mug in their dormitory as I type this, I will hang them from their window sill with their dental floss. I hate campus!

GIVE US A SPEECH AND SIT BACK DOWN

I swear. If it wasn't for that girl posting up that free movie website in her status update on Facebook (and you call yourself a friend), I would've been dishing out blog posts like spiked punch at the prom. Instead, I watched Javier Bardem dazzle and frazzle three women in a Woody Allen movie. Instead, I watched two kids straight out of indie central put-put around town looking for a band called 'Where's Fluffy?' and sharing a piece of gum with the universe. I watched Bruce Willis refuse to shave a beard for a movie role while a dog got shot in the head at Cannes, I watched Jim Carey say no all the time, then yes all the time, and last night I watched a really ugly Brit move to NYC to take on the fashion magazines at the top of the sky in what was probably the male version of 'The Devil Wears Prada'.

Oh and those pictures up there are an accident. I was writing a review on Fetish Fantasy Fashion, in which the phrase 'Labour of Love' came up in my text. I found myself saying 'what is this term other than an amazing UB40 album?' (sometimes I write something confidently without using my brain, then when I get back to it I panic thinking 'oh no, what if I had been using that to mean that all this time and it doesn't mean that at all?' - so I had to look it up). And this fashion website popped up. So, that's the story of how those items became a welcome accident (mind you, everything else on their website sucks).

And so I got further and further distracted, waxing my eyebrows, forcing myself to find something worth taking home to my closet in United Colours of Benetton because I had a gift voucher in my name, blocking phone calls from the National Student Survey people, spending £72 on food (WHAT!!!!)(...food that better last me til graduation), emailing up people to pester them to put my work in their magazine/give me work experience with their magazine/interview them for A magazine, getting killer top grades last semester, falling perilously in love with spanish classical/flamenco guitar, staring into space while listening to it, and barely scowling over Facebook's terms and conditions which have now been resolved (*insert passionate phrase here about people working together to take down the big guys*).

I'm afraid this week isn't going to be much different. In fact, you might just have to expect less from me until February chucks itself. But I am completely happy and busy and happy being busy, and I hope all is well with you (thank you so much for the rad comments lately!), and I could have so much exciting news to tell you like..next week if you would just put on a Smiths album and chill out for a bit in the waiting room.

P.S. I LOVE the mini cans of coke right now. It totally doesn't make me feel guilty. But then if I have two I'm back to square one again. Story of my life.

P.S.S. omg finally over 1,000 hits! You're all just too much, really. I think I'll go have a mini can of coke

NO MORE KEEPING MY FEET ON THE GROUND

These are my babies; bought for me in NY over summer by my mom. Thanks, mom. But I think it needs a buddy. As a grown-up who looks to Vogue for fashion guidance and hopes to work for fashion magazines very soon, I think having an extra pair of decent heels (hopefully with better walking qualities) is a good idea.

These three (taken from Jak and Jil) are a kind of heaven I don't understand. It doesn't reign above our heads but rather beneath us, on our feet. I wonder if my writing career will ever lead me in this financial direction.

Or in this one. [Office, from L to R: on sale at £50 (I might just starve myself for two days and check out these), £85, £90, £80]. I've bought things here before, but nothing that was as lasting and as timeless as I know a pair of beautiful black heels would be.

But let's take it a little loooowwweeerrrr, shall we? To where I'm at:
Matalan at £14. I know, it's teetering on trashy ground. Be honest, is it that bad? Do you think this can be pulled off? I want new shoes! But then again, I ALWAYS want new shoes...

ANYWAYS...
OF COURSE I just missed my food cut-off (I gained a little weight and started this lame eating habit involving no fizzy drinks, 10 times less alcohol than I drank before, 10 times more veg, organics and water, the gym and no eating after 9pm). yuck. I think I'll just make it worse if I follow the rules today and starve myself for the evening because all I've had was water, cinnamon tea and McVities, so I'm off to make a stir-fry.

I'M HIGH ENOUGH FROM ALL THE WAITING

I have a love/hate relationship with mail/post. Everytime I am anxiously waiting for something, I get the complete opposite, like spam, or, I don't know, forwards or bank statements. I ordered a lot of books recently via Amazon and have been waiting FOREVER for them to come. All I've had in my mail slot over the past week are TV License stuff or piles from HSBC telling me they're taking my money. So it was quite a great surprise, after a long day, to come home to this:

Influence by Mary-Kate and Ashley Oslen (two of my very many fashion influences) is ram-packed with exciting inteviews from great names in fashion, from Robert Lee Morris to Terry Richardson to Christian Louboutin. I spent the evening browsing them. It isn't a book with an epiphany attached to it, and I honestly expected more stunning fashion images than I found (I mean, it's MKA!), but I enjoyed sitting up in bed this evening going through it. I love that in the interviews we see the girls as fans rather than demi-gods, and that they've underlined some very uplifting and inspiring quotes, very useful for people like me who aren't willing to follow the 9-5 trend and have taken the creative route. This book is officially my first coffee table book.

The second one I am probably going to get would be Midori's The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage (below), which has been sitting on Tim's shelf in front of me at the office for days. It' so beautiful. If I had time, I was going to head over to the Coco de Mer branch on Draycott Avenue today, just to browse through it, and possibly buy some rope. But my wallet pleaded no. She knew I was going to give in and buy the book as well. Panda offered to buy it for me. I swear, he's either a horn dog or the sweeetest boyfriend ever. Or both. I love him for it.

I also did large amounts of pestering magazines for work experience over the past two weeks and not much has come of it. Well, when I say not much, I mean, to match my impatience and great expectations. As expected, TimeOut and Sugar have no time. And Vogue and their cohorts are probably laughing at my application up above ("you REALLY think we have something for you within the next two years?") since I've gotten no word from the Conde Nast variety. Today I had an interview with Luxure Magazine, and it went well, so we'll see what becomes of that. Otherwise, if you want to hire me to write something, please do! I'd prefer money for my writing anyday.

Also because I am getting frustrated. I applied for this small job as a fashion blogger for a February project, and the guy who replied just started talking to me about his own blog (which is almost bare and...interesting..to say the least). I had to remind him that I applied for a job, and he just prattled off some random fashion thoughts he had, and asked me what I thought of it, without ever really getting down to the specifics i.e. project, hours, payment. After a bit of back and forths, I stated it plain and simple, 'WHERE'S MY JOB?' (but professionally). Still nothing. If people out there find it amusing to make up jobs just to have hard-working, hard-searching people like me amuse them for an evening with their future dreams and aspirations (and CV), then I don't know what to expect next. Honestly. WHAT A DOUCHE BAG JUNKIE!

I thought I might need a brownie to cheer me up today. Got my brownie. Two, in fact. And I don't even really eat sweet things anymore with the exception of desert after a meal when out with friends. But after getting my book in the mail, it's like I was suddenly back in business. UPS came and delivered a pair of Kill City skinny jeans for me and the Skin Two editor wants to discuss me writing more content for their website on Friday coming. Another amazing inbox chat followed. I sheepishly asked Andrew Crofts (amazing guy who wrote my new writer's bible below) to interview him for a class project about Non-Fiction careers and all that come with it. And he's agreed to meet me face-to-face on Saturday for a chat. He's super nice and I'm super excited. Also stoked to use my new Olympus digital voice recorder, which is soo amazing and handy.

That's actually not all for the moment. I am back working on my novel with renewed vigour after a dry spell, and as much as I am afraid to say it, because you might never see it hit a shelf, it's really turning into something. I like it. Finally. And maybe I'll share some of it with you at a later less-busy date.

A KISS TO SEND US OFF

Ugh...
So...whenever I feel disinclined to post anything of worth on my blog due to complete exhaustion, I am going to post a random sampling of some of my favourite interiors and images from The Selby, since it seems my collection of his images are forming its own area code on my laptop. Five per unworthy post.

I am so tired.

I was ill today and missed class and got a telling off 'shame-on-you!' style by my very obviously passionate lecturer. This isn't grade school, yuh know! I'm happy with a shrug of your shoulders and thoughts like 'Well, it's your own loss if you don't show up'. Anyways, then I dragged my bones out of bed and into my black mohair zip-up Zara coat and met my friend Tina B. for dinner at a really nice and expensive sushi joint in Paddington. Over eel and cucumber rolls and salmon sashimi, conversation went as such:

Tina B: So, what are you doing for Reading Week?
Me: *sigh* work, I guess? You?
Tina B: I'm running off to New York to get married to my boyfriend. We're engaged.
Me: Oh, okay. At least you're doing something.

Not exactly, but yes, in this day and age, it seems 21 year olds still DO fall in love after 4 months and elope. Whatever floats your illogical boat. And she showed me the ring. It's on the Tiffany's website...

Today I nearly welcomed identity theft through a fake Green Card website. Today I finally got a call from a certain magazine but all they did was ask for my CV yet again! Today I just about set the world record for work experience applications for magazines from here to Lapland. Today I listened to Girls Aloud. Today I petted a GINORMOUS dog's fur after her Chav owner said I should because she's one of the few good ones of her breed and deserves it. Today I did not get bitten or mauled. Today I waited for a bus at midnight in Willesden Junction and had the wrong bus drivers stop to chat me up while they were on duty. Today I wrote a review for a documentary-type DVD series called Kink for Skin Two. Today I searched summer programmes at universities in Los Angeles. Today I scoured Criagslist and Gumtree. Today I took five minutes to allow myself to indulge in a tall iced chai tea latte. Today I did some plotting work on my novel on the tube. And Today my mom called. And now, after writing all this I realised that due to the current time, all this 'today' stuff really happened yesterday. And today is actually the day my father is doing a flight here. Going to meet him for dinner at his hotel near the airport A.K.A. behind god's back. I shall be back in top form soon.

DRINKING TEA WITH THE TASTE OF THE THAMES

Took me a minute, but I'm back and settled in LDN. Here's what you missed:

12/01/09
5:30am: Dressing for flight in 'conservative pilot's daughter' attire. Battle with mom over whether or not I can get away with a bottle of Absolut in my suitcase as I'm underaged and in a muslim country. She takes the bottle promising to send it with my dad for me later and I keep the glitzy red sequined case it comes in (YES, Some luscious friend of my mom's got it for me for the birthday!). Twirl for my dad for outfit approval (can't embarass Captain Martin), then screech off to the airport (he's doing a flight around the same time to Mumbai). Check in, share a coffee and a moment with the parental unit, get handed a wad of american and british bills for my birthday, exuent to gate. Board and find that my seat is #8, which means business! ...or pleasure.

8:30am: Take-off. Read Shantaram, nap, watch CSI and Two and a Half Men, take silly pictures, nap, unwillingly unpack laptop and set to work polishing off essay due same day.

1pm: Land. Fast Track (fuck yeah). Tube. Bus. Thank several gods that the weather is still tolerable. Shower. Set back to work on essay, while eating the only thing I have in my cupboard; eggs and tea.

5pm: Send off essay and first chapter of my novel an hour before deadline cut-off. Do absolutely nothing.

7pm: Get Chinese at the little shop down the street. The lady missed me and gives me a free 2009 Chinese calendar. I am the year of the Snake. Put up calendar in our common room. Stuff my face and scrutinize the queer looking expression on my face in the picture on my new Student Oyster (it took me 2.5 years into my 3 year course to get this).

13/01/09
Noon: Overly jovial phone call from my cousin Becks that wakes me up. She wants to know if we're still on for tonight. Yes, we are. Facebook, Facebook, Facebook, Emails, Facebook, Gumtree.

4pm: Head over to main office and check for mail. Receive a copy of 'The Freelance Writer's Handbook: How to Make Money and Enjoy your Life', which I ordered from Amazon the night before my flight. Sit and start to read it while eating some obscure yet tasty mushroom dish I cooked.

9:30pm: Meet Becks at Punk in West End for a drink and a disgusting birthday shot. Die in a corner for a hot minute, watching two after-work 40 somethings attempt dance to 80's tunes. Head over to The Roxy for a Re-Fresher's 'hang' with some uni friends. Admire the American study abroad kids as they stick out like sore thumbs bumping and grinding in baggy jeans and/or hoodies and/or uggs while everyone else does epileptic indie moves in skinny jeans and bowler hats. Kronenbourg, Flatliners, B-52's, Russian Roulettes, among other flirty cocktail pitchers. Morissey, C.S.S., King of Leon, Vampire Weekend, Heartsrevolution...yadda yadda.

4am: Pee in a corner. Night buses. Cheesy fries and late-night texts asking Panda to call.

14/01/09
2pm: HSBC to put my new 2009 savings plan into effect (go me!). Sit in Starbucks for several hours with my new book and a massive Chai Tea Latte (the best damn thing short of iced green tea lattes). Leave once the 16 year old after school set hit.

5pm: Waitrose. I buy
spinach
mushrooms
cheese blocks
thai sweet chili sauce
'dijonaise'
whole wheat bread
cream cheese
cinammon and raisin bagels
actimel
toothpaste
hand soap
parmesan
tomato and mascarpone sauce
penne
OJ
honey mustard dressing
grapes
cherry tomatoes
salad bowl (I recently became intrigued by salads so...yuh know)

7pm: blogging this, thinking about my future salads and wondering why I agreed to get test shots done on Friday for modelling/casting agency 'interested in my look'.