Sunday, December 25, 2011

A Merry Stroggles Christmas


A little taste of Lazlo before he makes his debut in the Stroggles NYC filmclip that has been 5 months in the making.

See on the New Years Eve Flipside.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

the 12 parties of Christmas.

On the 12th day of Christmas, I went to a party, for Massive Music in the East... caught a Tiffany Cab home and made the driver take us all over London looking for a chicken shop that was open at a quarter to three.

On the 11th day of Christmas, I snuck into Ridley Scott's Party. (I carried a watermelon - nee: Speaker).."Hey Ridley - that scene at the end of Thelma and Louise was a real mood killer" - please employ me!

On the 10th day of Christmas, I went to a Model Agency Party.. no thanks no more canapes for me, goddam beautiful stick insects everywhere. They can all hide behind my knee.

On the 9th day of Christmas, I went to my work christmas party, and now no one can look anyone in the eye, such a weird vibe, to be held hostage at someone's apartment and pass out in the gutters. At least we made it home and accidentally stole someone's wallet who turns out to be my long lost cousin. I get to work in the morning and there's a butcher knife sticking out of the floorboards at my desk. Ninja Fights!! how could I forget thee?

On the 8th day of Christmas, I did Karaokeeeeee. Sung Born Slippy.

On the 7th day of Christmas, I woke up with a tattoo, and a bloody nose from some random party.

On the 6th day of Christmas, I lost my bra, and had a bruised knee.

On the 5th day of Christmas, everybody wanted to kill each other and nobody went to a party.

On the 4th day of Christmas, I wasn't going to party, but ended up at Chinatown eating Chinese at midnight, then to the Experimental Cocktail Bar in the secret entrance. Cocktails for Free!

On the 3rd day of Christmas, we got banned from our local pub, because it's owned by Gordon Ramsey - and we were so drunk we were all swimming laps on the floor.

On the 2nd day of Christmas, I didn't leave the house - it's now been two days and i'm quite stinky.

On the 1st day of Christmas - I have to catch a cab across the city with a turducken and eggnog to the next party.

Is it any wonder everyone ends up suicidal and depressed at christmas?! all these parties could kill a person. I hereby Christen the Christmas Season - Hunter S Thompson Season.

Ergh. New Years Eve. More Party.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

too many eggs

If there is one thing you need to know about me - I am easily influenced. I am also married to a complete idiot.. so let's just start the story knowing those two facts.

So, it's a saturday night, I have been napping all afternoon, sleeping through Mark's shit show that he wants to watch 5 episodes of (just you wait till it's my turn, and I make you watch 6 episodes of The O.C.... my time will come) then we decide to watch Breaking Bad, and it's an episode where they are all cooking up Meth, and then Walt goes inside and makes omelettes.. and you know what i'm thinking at this point..... 'Damn I feel like an omelette now too!'.. good thing I didn't sit there thinking 'Damn! I feel like some Meth' - who knows where we would be right now.

It's 10am, we go to the kitchen, and I scrounge the ingredients for an omelette from our 'university' kitchen - I call it the 'university' kitchen, because we never buy any food - so there is always just one lone tomato, 2 ancient bacon rashes, some instant coffee, a crusty square of cheese, and yakult - we never ever go food shopping.. It's like we are poverty stricken university slackers. But we AREN'T! I just spent £400 on my hair, we aint no slackers!! we are just life slackers who need a maid to do our shopping for us.. sooooo lazy.

Where was I??? right - I was making a Meth-Omelette.

I'm making the Omelette - Mark chimes in and is like "Dang! I want me some of that Omelette" to which I reply "Not a problem! We will share this bitch"..... then I say "I hope we have enough eggs"... and that's where the night goes downhill.

Mark decided to go to the 2am shop to buy more eggs - meanwhile I have cooked the delicious omelette which is easily big enough for two people, but I still have the extra ingredients prepared for when Mark comes back with the eggs to make a second omelette.

Mark comes back and I am eating my half of the omelette and Mark cracks his two eggs, and now I am full, and don't want anymore omelette.


You know what that idiot does!!! (Mark just in case I need to clarify - My Idiot Husband) he freaks out.. He doesn't want to share my half of the omelette because he is a judgemental douche - who judges books by their covers - (yes my omelette was a big eggy mess, but it was delicious!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)... and he's standing there with 2 raw eggs in a bowl, and 6 bacon rashes in a pan, and he goes "I'm not even hungry" - doesn't even taste my magic eggs, so we throw everything in the bin.

Well why the hell are we up to our eyeballs in eggs at 10.30pm on a Saturday Night then? If you aren't even hungry for eggs?!

At this stage I feel I need to make a website called and put a picture of Mark's stupid head on it.

We are never buying eggs ever again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, December 08, 2011

Keep on Rollin, I'm Josh Brolin

Hi, My name is Rachel. I am 5'9. Brunette (not for long). Dislikes: having to check my shoes for spiders. Likes: writing hillbilly songs about Josh Brolin.

I call this one - Josh Brolin, Goes Strollin... off my soon to be released album 'Hillbillies in London'

(banjo's playing)

I just gotta keep on rollin, because my name is Josh Brolin.
Sometimes down the street that i'm strollin, People wave Hi to Josh Brolin.
My Identity was stolen, doesn't matter cos I'm Josh Brolin,
I'll hunt you down and make you swollen, punch you hard cos i'm Josh Brolin.
If you're wife is too controllin, slap that bitch, like Josh Brolin.
I just gotta keep on Tollin, Tollin becuase I'm Josh Brolin.
Imma goin Tempin Bowlin - that's what I do - I'm Josh Brolin.

- Josh Brolin 2011.

All I want for Christmas is my Clothes Back!!

saw this whilst walking to work this morning:

(Translation: Landlord, I want my clothes back. Please check your mail & get in touch! I second that! Me too, I third that, give us our clothes back!)

Does this mean there are 3 naked people running around my neighborhood hiding out in bushes waiting for this landlord to give them their clothes back?

And did that first person already write to the landlord asking for their clothes back and get denied?? "fill in the appropriate form please"

Sounds like a story for A Current Affair!!!!!!!!!!! Not that it even exists in this country.

Did I tell you about the time I was accosted outside of my place of work at Channel 9 when a crazy lady cornered me in the car-park clearly off her face on meth, saying that her boyfriend was trying to kill her and she needed A Current Affair to step in and save her from a grisly death, otherwise her death would be on the hands of the TV station.

What this country needs now is more naked people anyway. I hope they don't get their clothes back.


Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Who wants to talk about my Hair?

To call me obsessive would be understating it a bit. I'm actually surprised anyone will come within a two meter radius of me because they will all be bombarded with one topic and one topic alone. My Hair.

Let's talk about my hair shall we - if you want to talk about the news, or the eurozone breakdown go somewhere else.. (to be fair I did come up with a song about the economic collapse of the Eurozone.......... "I'm outta time, and all we've only got 10 days to save the Euro" - 4 Minutes, Madonna.)

It all started when I saw a picture of Rachel Bilson's hair, and I thought to myself - that is what I need on my head right now. If I could fly to HWood and scalp Rachel Bilson and wear the top of her head around that would be amazing, unfortunately I had to settle for the next best thing - going to a hairdresser, and anyone who knows me knows that me and hairdressers do not mix.

I'm never happy.......My fringe is shit... that blowdry was rubbish.. she used hair straighteners on my head.....they put layers on my head...

I will sit and stew in hairdresser hatred for days after going to the hairdressers, so you can imagine my anxiety levels when I went to the hairdressers and asked them to make me blonde. Oh god. To be fair it's only supposed to be 50% blonde, but that didn't stop me being 100% terrified.

5 hours later, and I left the hairdresser looking............... almost exactly the same as when I went in.... hmm.. subtle... All the changes were in the middle of my hair?? why?? And whilst everyone told me it looked good - it didn't look good enough to me... so I did the only thing I could do..

I went home and stared at myself in the mirror for 5 hours.

Then I went around to anyone I could find with eyeballs and did a multiple choice questionnaire on the state of my hair.

Does it look good? yes.. Does it look like the picture?? no.

Oh what to do, what to do. I called up the hairdressers to ask them what exactly they envisioned for my hair - and they did their usual Hairdresser Voodoo on me. Just once I would like to be able to walk into a hairdressers probably with some kind of dream catcher around my neck - put the picture in front of their face and go "Why Don't I Look Like This!!!!!!!!!" and don't give me any of your "gradual process" BS.

This is some important shit right here. If the whole world is going down in some Eurozone Double Dip recession, I at least want to have great hair whilst I scrounge around for potatoes and beans, and trade my body for firewood.

Friday, December 02, 2011

Stache Fear

Finally, it is December. That's a good thing, That's a damn good thing. You know why?! Cos that means that Movember is over... Movember, what a conundrum... on the one hand it's good because there's loads of men around the city sporting porno handle bar moustache's - which is fine from a distance, it's very very bad however when you have a husband who has a moustache, and you actually have a deep seated fear and hatred of moustaches.

I couldn't tell you where my hatred of moustaches comes from but i've had it my whole life- when I was a child I not only hated moustaches, I was also deathly afraid of them. If I saw a man on the street with a moustache I would burst into tears. Imagine the state I was in when my parents tried to use aversion therapy on me and had a man with a moustache baby sit me for the night. I have never been so terrified in my whole life. I fucking hated moustaches. I hid in a cupboard and cried the whole night, terrified to close my eyes in case he killed me in my sleep.

Hate moustaches.

So for the past month I have been kinda wanting to smash Mark in the face. Luckily now it is December and my need to commit violent acts against him has diminished.. slightly.