Tuesday, November 22, 2011

another thing that happened at the party

So picture this, a party full of only ridiculously good looking people, there must have been a bouncer standing outside on the stairs getting rid of all the ugly people (not that I would have seen them) and I end up in the backyard standing next to the hottest Calvin Klein model I have ever seen.

Now... no one probably knows that but I embarked upon some much trying vegetarianism for about 6 months... I say trying because as soon as I stepped off the plane in New York I was shoving smokey bbq ribs down my face like the world was going to end... but I figured it was New York, so it's perfectly acceptable to break the rule.

I tried hard, I mean I really tried. Mushrooms and Spinach for dinner 5 nights a week, but then it started to get colder, and I realised then that Vegetarianism is only something I could realistically do during summer. And that is because I have 3 amazing fur coats, and I'm not about stop wearing them because of my new-found animal rights ethics.

Those animals died ages ago. Would a rabbit rather die and live forever on my body? or be mauled to death in the woods by a hungry fox?? I'd take the coat hanger option any day. The animal kingdom is a cut throat place. I should know. I've been watching Frozen Planet. David Attenborough paints a grizzly picture. Why should I suffer in the cold?? a vegetarian jacket made out of hemp and linseed isn't going to keep anyone warm during the London winter. So I wore my amazing new furcoat to the party, and ended up next to the Calvin Klein model. The Vegetarian Calvin Klein Model.

Now I should also mention that this was the night I decided to fuck my vegetarianism right off. There was a BBQ and they were cooking a pig and steak, and I was pretty much just stuffing pork and steak dripping with blood straight down my face with my bare hands.

At that moment I was the poster girl for everything wrong with the world... according to vegetarians.

Needless to say - the Calvin Klein Model didn't stick around. Whatevs. At least I don't need to have B12 injections.

Plus my furcoat cost £30, and you couldn't even buy 30 live rabbits for that these days. If anything I am economically thrifty, and isn't that more important that being a murderer in this day and age of the double dip recession?? yes.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Laddies Forever

(to the tune of Remember the Time - Michael Jackson)

Do you Remember
When we lived in Ladbroke Grove,
It was 2009 back then.
Do you Remember,
Living on a main road,
We got vibrated off the couch,
So why did it end?

Do you Remember
The garbage trees.
Every morning the street would stink.
Do you Remember,
The Ladbroke Grove times,
They just go on and on
In the back of my mind.

I miss Ladbroke Grove... when we moved to Maida Vale to be neighbours with Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow to drink smug eggnog lattes at the Starbucks I always knew I'd be missing Ladbroke Grove.

Don't get me wrong, I love where we live in Maida Vale - living in a 3 floor split storey flat with more room than we can ever need (truth be told we moved so that Lenny would run up and down the stairs to lose some weight - fucking fat ass) It's a great street, I wake to the sounds of birds singing rather than hobo's. And you know what.............. that is lame.

Last night I went to a house-party back in the Grove, and the first person I bumped into on the street was one of the local derelicts who walks around all day singing. I miss that guy. I miss throwing our garbage onto the street and then calling up the council clean up line to complain that my eggs are still out there glued to the pavement and they better clean that shit up now!!!!!!!!!! I don't pay council tax to live like this. clean those eggs up now bitches!

I miss going to the gym and seeing the vaginas of women of nationalities from around the world. You know whose muffs I see at Maida Vale gym?? Aspirational types who go for Starbucks afterwards. There is nothing saggy and scary in there... boring.

The house-party which was one block down from where we used to live was one of my top-5 parties of all time. Reasons: the flat was owned by a mega rich guy who had the place pimped out. We could stand around in the backyard smoking next to the housed in fire, or sit under the canopy on the giant couch watching the waterfall and the coloured lights reflecting into the unseasonably balmy november sky.

Or you could go inside and dance under the best chandelier I have ever seen.

Minted. Great Taste. The DJ was excellent and there was more wine than I could ever swim through if we poured it into a pool.

Not only that but famous people were there. Famous. I love famous people. If you looked up starfucker in the dictionary there'd be a picture of me. except I don't fuck them. instead I corner them, pretend I don't know who they are and lure them into a conversation about something banal like how my cat needs it's nails trimmed because they are too long and are ruining all my blankets woven by Tibetan Monks.

Binky was there: If you haven't see Made in Chelsea, then I can't even talk to you. Go download an episode then come back and finish reading. Brill.

It was my belief that if I could corner Binky, become best-friends, then I would be in Made in Chelsea season 3.. like... I could so be in that show. I would just need to work on my pout.

I have to be honest though, I am never the one who clocks any of these people. I have people blinkers on at all times, everyone is in sea of nameless faces unless I personally know you and you are standing in front of me. Mark however has 'Celebrity Radar' whilst I 'm walking along the street looking at the ground to make sure I don't step in poo, he's looking everyone in the face making sure they aren't someone famous that we should make friends with. Half the time I don't even believe him when he tells me he's at a bar at Soho drinking with Keira Knightley. I mean?? sif. She doesn't drink. She's an anorexic robot.

However Mark totally clocked Chiwetel Ejiofor, and it was him. So of course we made him come over and join our group, pretended we didn't know who he was and told him the whole story about Lenny coming to London and bonded over taking our pets across international borders. New Friend. He is filming a movie with Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender next year. Hello!!!! I want to go to that party. I will go up to Brad Pitt pretend I don't know him and talk about how vets are always trying to gyp you with weight loss food for cats when we all know that you just need to exercise your cat, but ever tried making a cat run on a treadmill???

So yeah, we are moving back to Ladbroke Grove. We've had some good times Maida Vale, some good quiet times, but to be honest I can't sleep properly without the sound of the 452 whizzing past and my Opera singer downstairs neighbour going through her octave exercises at 7am on Sunday morning.

Plus my knee has been playing up which I blamed on having reactive arthritis - cos that's what all the cool kids have - but after one party in Ladbroke Grove it is back to normal, so I can only assume my knee was going through a malaise of missing Laddies and was punishing me. Point taken Knee. Point Taken.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Livin in the Now. Right Now


I have the black dogs. ie: the feeling of fear you get after a night out when you feel like you are being hounded by a roving pack of black dogs.

Last night I went to a party in shoreditch (trendy trendy shoreditch. oh so trendy. plant some trees shoreditch. why does everyone have half a shaved head in shoreditch?) but first we went to a quintessential film premier for a series which is highlighting the whole 'bankers rule the world. fuck the banks' movement that is happening right now. A 'charity' film one might say...(although truth be told - everyone got paid who worked on that film.. ummm... yeah) A film outlining how banks set the prices for food and the cost of living and that's why there are million of people living below the poverty line and dying of starvation around the world. So of course the film screening would be in a poor townhouse with people in hemp clothes serving fallafels and hummus.

So Cliche.

Why do poor people and people who pretend to care about poor people all dress in terrible clothes and eat lentils and not shave properly? Did all the do-gooders get together and decide that this would be their utilitarian uniform so they can all spot each other in a crowd. so ridiculous.

What was most ridiculous about this whole screening was that the film is essentially putting the message out there about Banks being the Bad Guys.. and yet the people who attended this screening were.... investors (bankers) and women in fur coats.. who all stood around eating their dried up fallafels pretending to care about the world whilst wide eyed and youthful hopeful types swanned around with petitions that no one signed, sporting their Occupy London badges (fuck off now) and then telling people that when they finish their unpaid internship at the charity they are going to open a fashion label for high street designs. yeah that's a really charitable job. at least you're giving 5 year old kidnapped indian kids a chance to earn some cold hard cash. except we don't want that. because cash is bad.

That was the first stop of the evening. After choking down the driest fallafels in the world we went to the party in shoreditch where everyone was there to meet people to make them rich! rich! rich! there is nothing more soul destroying that standing in a room of 400 leaching parasitic industry people who you all know are there to network with each other and talk about work whilst a crazy rave band from Berlin plays music so freakin loud my heart had an irregular heartbeat. You can't network when you can't even hear yourself think. The last thing I want to do is scream into some strangers face 'so what do you dooooooo' whilst the stink of hummus rams up their nostrils from my poverty screening breath. Who will give me work then?? so instead of that everyone dances badly, and drinks the free drinks, and then you get a cab home at 4am and make the driver drive around for half an hour whilst you look for a chicken shop because only a dried up chicken wing that has been sitting in a warmed oven shelf is going to make the vomit go away.

The whole going out thing is a false economy.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Qui Here

So I went to Rome.. again.. I am saying this like it was soooooooooo hard to go to Rome. When you hear the backstory though, you'll allow me for the rolling of eyes at my wondrous adventure tales.

When I first went to Rome in 2005, I was pretty sure Rome was like - the greatest city in the world, however 6 years later and a country on the brink of economic collapse, and I'm not so sure. Maybe that is because I have been to so many places since then (god i'm cool!) but seriously - Rome is good, but it's not the bomb that I once thought it was.

soooooooo seen this already.

Rome is full of gigantic old impressive things. I for one - love gigantic old impressive things. But you see, I've already seen all the old gigantic impressive things... been there! done that! ...........Naples was better.

When I went to Naples last year we stayed with an Italian man in his apartment he lives with his mother but rents out rooms and calls it a B&B. It was pretty weird.. "so this your kitchen... and your mum doesn't speak English" it was like visiting relatives, except we obviously weren't related.. at all. The gist of these Italian weirdos in their B&B apartment was that Naples should be the go-to place of Italy, being that it has wayyyy more old impressive things than Rome, it is actually a UNESCO listed city! You can't walk two feet without seeing something amazing. But everyone is scared of the Mafia in Naples (pure speculation) and Rome is spreading viscous rumors - it's basically a soap opera every day of the year in Italy.

But Rome is in Italy, and Italy is awesome.

I wandered around Rome looking like a slut (apparently) and everybody stared at me all day. Have they not seen a pair of Pins before?!

(i'm not wearing any underpants, and I'm here to see the Pope!)

One of the things I get most pleasure from when I'm on holidays is actually very nerdy and stupid. I love spotting SPACE INVADER artworks... I know this may sound ridiculous in Italy, the global hotspot of amazing artworks, but there is some primal pleasure I get out of finding Space Invaders. I have found them all around London, Amsterdam, New York, and now Rome. Mark & I were walking along on our first night wondering if Space Invader would be in Rome, when we walked out of an alleyway and saw one on the corner of a giant staircase. Score. We high-fived then some local Italian told us about a virtually unknown Michelangelo statue in a church at the top of the staircase - it's like Space Invader was leaving clues for us.

Space Invader at the Vatican!!

Our main reason for going to Rome again was going there with Marks Family, which is good because Mark's dad speaks fluent Italian, the bad being that they are old and crippled and can't walk anywhere...(sooooo slow!! can we walk further than 5 meters without someone having a heart attack)

We ended the trip in Frascati - which is a hillside village whose main attraction is it's Villas.. the Villas are however not open to the public, so you have two options.. look at the church (takes 5 seconds) or watch a pigeon cleaning fleas off itself in the church square.

We rented a Villa which would normally be full of jaunty Italians making noise and having mozzarella ball fights in the ballroom (probably?) but this villa was empty being that it is off-season, so basically we had the place to ourselves to do The Shining re-enactments.


Italy! Qui.