i am hungOVER. because i basically thought my long easter weekend started last night. in the boozer.
shucks.
in my defence, i was watching the incredible arsenal game in a pub in finsbury park with a boozy bunch of gooners. i'm a girl so don't worry, i'm not going to harp on with football chat cos quite frankly, i don't know enough about it to do so. although i'm pretty sure i could give jamie redknapp a run for his money in the commentating stakes because he is utter TURD. but anyhoo, i think it was quite obvious to see that we did get ridiculously dicked on in the first half, embarrassingly so but we jumped straight back on the comeback trail with a little help from theo:
"theooooo, theooooo, theooooo"
and a cracking pen from fab fabs. but in all the excitement, jumping up and down, having a three way hug with the boy and our mate ben, my back all of a sudden became drenched in stella as an over hyper lager lout basically dashed a whole pint onto me.
LET'S PLAY SPOT THE DICKHEAD... he's behiiiiiind you!
but i let it go and in true romantic style, the bf gave me his shirt and promised to buy me some chips after the game. SOLD! to the girl with sopping matted hair and beer stained jeans. it's the small things.
so as my hangover proceeds to get worse by the minute, i gladly nominate myself as the april fool for today. was a silly mistake to get wrecked. on a wednesday. a school night. knowing full well i have 4 days and nights of wining and dining to get through somehow. it's ok though, i started the day with a mcdonalds hash brown, a mug of sugar with a couple teaspoons of tea and have already filled my water bottle up 3 times.
"i'm gonna wash that beer right outta my hair"
literally.
have a EGGcellent easter, hope it's spEGGtacular (yes, i am LOLing to myself even if you're not) and eat your body weight in chocolate.
lots of love from me and my mate below; this being the last time you see him cos he is getting munched, annihilated, exterminated.
2. trying to find this following item is as hard as trying to track down where robert pattinson is hiding from his crazy freakish fans. i am not one of them. ahem *cough cough* ANYWAY...
3. call it what you will: primarni/p-boutique/primes/primarche/prida, we have all bought something/ basket loads of primark stuff. we've trundled round, flooring fellow shoppers along the way, trying to find the last size 8 in the dress that EVERYONE has, only to be confronted with a beat up size 16 with a broken zip (but you take it anyway cos its only 30p). i like the garms, i really like the shoes although they have a taken a dip in goodness recently as they seem to think £2.99 plastic fluorescent green, toe separating, multi strapped sandals are acceptable. AND deem it ok to charge 15 quid for a pair of gladiator sandals. anything more than a fiver is a bump. however, primarni jewellery is a no no for me. i'm peeved at buying a set of bangles, half of which are averagely ok, the other half shedding the gold covering onto my arm only to be left with what now looks green...toxic almost. so i'm branching out. i'm going top of the market. top of the bangle chain to this...
its 400 smackers mind, so realistically i ain't purchasing it because i've got rent to pay and beer to buy. but you catch my drift? i want to start learning to invest in nice fings, rather than looking at my bleak bank balance at the end of the month and having nothing to show for it but a shrunken bobbly floral dress and a de-sequinned pair of hotpants that now, after one wash, resembles a thong.
4. last but not least.
not least AT ALL.
the abolishment of people wearing those ridiculous clear glasses. your eyesight is crystal clear. don't lie.
it is unnecessary. and really really annoying. and the joke of it is, is that the even more irritating twats are wearing them...WITHOUT LENSES! are you joking me?! its incomprehensible to me as to why they would want to partake in this pathetic 'trend' in the first place but then to my amazement, they think it's cool. to look budget and broke.
YOU ARE JUST WEARING AN EMPTY FRAME YOU DICK.
it's just calling out for a double jook up in the eyes isn't it?
so the sun finally decided to put his flat cap on this weekend and send us some rays. about time afer an absolute arctic friendly winter. but people need to chill juuuuust a little bit. i'm down for sporting the sunnies, it's bright and without them i do spend most of the summer in a constant state of squinting, worrying that if the wind changes my face will actually stay looking like a tard. but i wouldn't say it was exactly the time for flip flops, board shorts (not acceptable in any season really) sun hats and for the lily whites out there, the slapping on of factor 50 before morning has broken. it's mid march. it's still chapping. you are not going to frazzle. stop being extra, put on your north face fleece and take a brisk walk to the newsies and pick up your milk. you will make it back alive with all layers of skin intact. christ.
i'm sorry but you are equally as annoying as those people who proclaim they are: 'a wheat intolerant, bread intolerant, dairy intolerant vegan veggie who can only eat gluten free tofu quorn sausages and sunflower seeds'.
GET A GRIP. because we all know you secretly eat out at pizza express, get tucked in head first into a creamy lasagne dish and mop up the dregs with the last of your garlic bread and dough balls.
anyway, back to the weekend. i felt i used it quite productively. yeah... no, lets not actually include saturday. that was a complete write off as per, except for getting dragged from my toasty warm pit by the boy to go and watch arsenal in the dolphin pub in hackney. it looked so unfamiliar in the daytime, complete with a crazy half deaf pirate looking irish bar man who took about an hour to make me a concoction of lemonade and lime. believe me, i wasn't ready to let in any more alcoholic beverages into my already JD fuelled bloodstream from the night before. i am alright for a top up. the thought of alcohol was making me heave and i didn't think it'd be nice for me to puke up my breakfast (eaten at around 4pm) into the basket of bar snacks nearby containing a mixture of stale bacon flavoured crisps and blatent leftover crimbo nuts. as the final whistle blew, we stumbled back home, my boyfriend leaving me to suffer a somersaulting tummy as he pissed off to go and pack for his skiing trip to france.
prick.
despite all of this though, this standard saturday feeling was a result of a super friday night out at bounty:
we walked in, pushing past the heaving crowd of indiesters bopping around to the smiths probably and stumbled upstairs to who'd have thought it, an old skool r'n'b night on the top floor of the old blue last! i was in my element, shackin out to koffee brown, kp & envyi, bit of mase and diddy, jagged edge, next and some crackers from aaliyah with not a whisper from chipmunk or tinchy! bliss. as the nostalgia was beginning to build, my bank balance was taking a tumble at the bar...
the mini stage area welcomed a variety of people with the only similarity between them being: they were all waste. we had the girl from the city, who'd blates been boozing since the end of her half day at work, frantically trying to grab her friends to join her but unfortunately was quickly shooed off and was the star of many an embarrassing photo instead, a lady (of the night), who felt it necessary to writh around the floor in a neon pink lycra dress, a black thong (that may aswell have had flashing fairy lights sewn onto it, it was that visible) topped off with a delightful pair of knee high patent dm's. so as you can tell, it was a mixed crowd of bump and grinders.
all in all, it was a good night. some old skool slow jams to booty wine to and a hefty amount of party bangers to...i don't know what actually, just definitely not any kind of body popping.
for those of you who missed out, here's a piece of nostalgia cake you can munch on, cos i'm well and truly stuffed:
i've just got back from a blinding weekend in the haven that is centre parcs with my uni gals and currently sporting a shitty toni and guy esque lopsided fringe, as my booze induced double vision on saturday night advised me it would be ok to give it a little trim with the kitchen scissors. oh dear. you know the ones where you see 55 year old women bussin a diagonal fringe starting at the left temple, cascading down to the right cheek bone, gourdy blocks of peroxide blonde highlights, a mullet at the back and heart shaped tramlines shaved in on one side having been told they look a spit of rihanna.
when in fact they look like shirley from easties.
i'm also croaking from copious amounts of bitching, non stop gossiping from friday night through to monday afternoon, have trapped wind from not wanting to add to the contamination already built up in the lodge from boozy poos, farts and burps due to the hench amount of food and vino we demolished and now back at work. hurrah.
but. i was greeted with some gourmet popcorn corns and a smooch from my luverly boyfriend as welcome home presents. i'd like to say i should go away more often but it turns out he spent most of the weekend in either a grimy drunken haze or was just straight hungover, has somehow bruised his spine and is currently walking around like the hunchback of notre dame. so then again, maybe not.
anyhoo, as i'm enjoying a well earned bear hug with him, catching up, well, me relaying jokes and tales from the weekend which he politely laughs at even though i know he's thinking "i guess i had to be there", bless, bombarding him with my pics i've already uploaded to facey after being home for only 30 seconds, we get sidetracked and our attentions turned to mr williams. mr pharrell williams. his vid pops up on youtube...and i'm mesmerised. in fact i think i repeated the words the boy says whenEVER he sees megan fox.
"words just can't describe".
so simply because he is a beaut and has swagger for DAYS, here he is in all his "i love myself, but hey, i am pharrell. so i can" glory.
i was once a hater. (my mate kat will no doubt rinse me for this and say "once? you still hate. on everyone and everything. you hate your life love.")
and she's not wrong.
to me, they were affiliated with poker straight straw like haired girls, covered head to toe in tiffany necklaces, bracelets and rings, wearing hideous diamante embellished pauls boutique parkas and sickening jack wills/abercrombie trackies tucked in to them, for the ultimate in 'house of the rar'.
"what choo talkin' about?" i hear you say. like you don't know already. uggs innit.
i ended up getting a pair SIMPLY because my housemate could get them for cheaps and as the usual british blitz came upon us last year, i thought my teeny size 4 trotters could do with a daily cotch inside a furry sleeping bag, instead of squelching and swimming around in my shit ballet pumps from primarni. i'm not gonna lie, they're warm and cosy. but they don't reeaaalllly go with much and as soon as i put them on i feel my personal style takes a little nose dive into... chav. for the sake of comfort do i really want to channel the kerry katona look? my survey saaaays:
eh uhhhhhh.
now, i want to explain the importance of the classic purchase. when they initially came out they were in 4 colours: the beige, the caramel, the chocolate and the black. classics. but...
'hold up, wait a minute'.
why are we now being bombarded on road with leopard print ones, shiny gold metallic ones, ones with beads and bangles hanging off the back, buttoned up, zipped up, ones with added external fur, ribbons, bows and buckles?! what is going ON? not to mention the poor mans chanel clogs they have put pride of place in the covent garden shop window. they look like heeled crocs. so it's a no from me.
the same applies to converse. fearne cotton has 'designed'/put her name to a range for them saying:
"they are definite styles i would wear myself and i've always got a pair in my bag for after a night out!"
really fearne? of your new zebra print or polka dot or faux lace ones?
sure you do.
i've got a sneeeeaky feeling you'll be keeping your louboutins on for the rest of the eve won't you cotton?
although then again, she is designing for very.co.uk, in other words- littlewoods catalogue. so maybe we should take her word for it.
what i'm saying is, it's all about the classics (no, not reeboks.) why you would want to walk around in emblazoned union jack vans or emo skull & cross bones converse is beyond me. it's all a bit extra for my liking. it's unnecessary. it's not original or up and coming. it's straight uggly.
so apparently dappy from 'nah nah niiiiii' n nubz has been sparked in the the chops by his girl.
1. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
2. it's about friggin time he got told he's a prat.
3. just look at the picture.
4. tulise/tuloose/tuleesha has said:
"it takes a lot not to hit a girl back - i wouldn't have been able to control myself"
what a lovely lady eh? hmmm how about you go back and write some MORE lyrics about how we should be "stopping knife crime and violence and like you know, we gotta come togeva as one innit, united front and all that, get me?? cos i know yeh, being from the streets, its haaard and we just wanna write songs that reach out to the yoof yeh??"...
and then blurt out a completley contradicting statement like the above.
ridiculous.
old 'papi' ain't gonna be so proud now is he?!
oh and i guess:
5. does anyone actually know what the other wasteface does in the group? nah. me neiths..
another couple of scandalous weeks in celebsville have flown by, with more and more z listers gracing the red 'allied' carpets in hope of revelling from their "pap me! pap me! i'm a fame hungry dickhead!" picture in the daily star. danny dyer, you catch my drift innit? you ain't a cheeky chappy cockney. you're a knob.
we've got a cheap and tacky wedding to cringe at, another classy photoshoot spread of rihanna with her baps and tattoos out again and yet another poor ed hardy bikini wearing (yep. sympathy stops RIGHT there) WAG toni terry gets her heart stampeeded on by, whaddya know- a cheating scumbagging chelsea cretin. now, you wouldn't see any of wengers boys say for instance thomas 'gavalaaaaaa' vermaelen getting up to dirty deeds like that. cos arsenal have got class. oh and they wouldn't wanna mess with wenger and get their balls cut off. standard.
jordan (yes, i'm reverting back to calling her jordan cos she's a disgraceful dirtbag)and alex reid get hitched in the ever so subtle, non attention grabbing city of las vegas. i'm so sorry but as much as alex came across as a nice guy in cbb and nowhere as annoying as 'far from a' lady sovreign, he's still really butters. the cauliflower ears, the beat up nose, the tangoed tan, the 90's esque french crop. i can't cope. although i do feel a tad sorry for being married to a poor mans pammie and he also has to look after little blonde cutie 'princess'. who looks uncannily like a frog. come on, she does. team peter, team katie- she is toad worthy.
so now, is it just me or are people getting fed up of seeing rihannas boobs and backside spread across a magazine or other? boys, you don't have to answer that, i'm sure you're having a cow over it. but seriously, she did one big built up interview demurely dressed in angelic white claiming it would be the only time she'd be discussing the chris brown saga then guess who's popping up all over the joint, straddling male models on leashes, her wearing nothing but nipple tassels and louboutins claiming she's "still really hurt by it all". really? seems like nothing but a bit of s & m can't cure eh rhi rhi?
anyone see nicola 'the ginger one' roberts from girls aloud make her bbc3 debut about fake tanning and sunbeds? it was eye opening for sure. but i couldn't help but think about how well they've all been doing during their 'year break' from chart topping. i mean, we've got kimberley becoming the latest face for 'new look' (ahem), sarah harding just out on the lash (no change there) and starring in...hmmm i forget the name of the film?? nadine over in LA putting all her hard earned wonga into property (good move nads) and then we have nicola having a cry and a cuppa with burnt to a crisp blondes who stupidly use sunbeds 7 days a week. and lets not forget cheryl, who is smashing it up. and you know in her ditzy little head shes thinking "new look? l'oreal darling. and simon cowell wants to hump me too. muhahahahaha"
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