Gownedhog day

Sometimes, history repeats itself, and in recent weeks, various occurances in levels of interest varying from 'mild eyebrow raise' to 'completely boring please die' have bubbled up around me, rendering my life rather like a B-version of 'Groundhog Day' except obviously less cool and containing less Bill Murray.

1. Got job back at Selfridges. Sell shit/gawp at celebrities/run at 100mph round corner for cigarettes when proffessing to be 'just popping to the loo'/steal free sample chocolates. Hustle hustle hustle... trying to save some penies to pay my rent and creditors, might have to just quit uni and do another 5 zillion years of 12 hour shifts just to afford these things thoughhhhh....




2. Met Beth Ditto again. Some calorie-addled delusionist has hired her to 'inspire' a new range for Evans which launched at Self's on Friday. Love how a smalltown texas gal like her is seeminly franchising herself pound by fleshy pound. Also quite like this dress she designed. I imagine she sits in a large velvet throne at night counting her money, cackling between bites with a big mac in one hand and whopper in the other. Whoever knew lard could be so lucrative. ILU BETH <3.




3. Last but by no means least, aNOTHER awkward run-in with Henry stupid Holland. Step off the tube at old street station in the lovely dappled polloutiony sunset wearing my loveworn HH jumpsuit, spotting actual Henry Holland (not just the debenhams version, as my suit is) walking in opposite direction. My god, that man is tanned.
Panic.
Continue walking, spotting H giving a quizzical look to said jsuit, which has a huge rip down one of the seams (and has once had a lighter taken to it when lizzy tried to set me on fire...unsuccessfully)
Decide on giving old Hen a casual smiley nod, whilst pointing to outfit and cheekily (i imagined, though probably sounded weirdly stalkerish, like some heartbroken slag who wears only her boyfriends old teeshirt 24/7 because it still smells like his BO) quipping 'wearing your playsuit mate', receiving a tanned...if smiles CAN be tanned...smile and double thumbs up.

So, i think, maybe i am one step closer to my dream of our blossoming friendship as prophecised a couple of blog posts ago. Or one step closer three steps back because it will be breaking the outlines of a restraining order.
The only thing i do know, that cuts like a knife into my brain tendons, is that it wasnt a playsuit. it was a fucking jumpsuit. a fucking jumpsuit cherry.
The man is in the fashion industry, clearly he knows the difference and CLEARLY thinks you do not, and that you are therefore a stupid nonothing nogood tart.




Back to square one then.

Memento Mori

Rather like a well tended country churchyard, although my summer has been, on outward viewing, relaxing...breezy...floral...inoffensive even, much as I loathe to admit, it has essentially been pretty dead.

The infrequency of my recent blog posts also has been a background beat in my brain for quite some time now too.

Tap tap tapping away at my lazy skull sounding not unlike the faint tapping coming up from the ground from the unlucky folks who have been buried alive in said hypothetical graveyard. But enough with the morbid metaphor! On to the chit chat about ...relatively cool stuff!

Festivals have been a bit of a recerrant love affair studding this summer, and to round things off proper, i have just returned from Pukkelpop, Kiewet, Belgium, possibly the best festival ever given to humankind for these reasons three:

1. Mindblowingly boast-tastic lineup

2. Cheap smokes

3. Amazing chocolate.

I honestly havent just got back from a Bridget Jones fan convention (although if anyone knows of one in existance please contact me asap)

but a lovely box of lucky strike cigs, even inside the festival would set me back but a mere daily 3 euros, and, along with all the rather choice dutch weed we were kindly donated by charitable euro-cousins, I pretty much had a smoking device sticking out both my nostrils and ears as well as my mouth at all times. Hu-zzah.

Also we discovered...joy.

Forget 'suprises'. Who wants the risk of a suprise when you can have 100 percent guarunteed JOY? Half an egg's worth of melty kinder chocolate, with little bueno-filled truffles nestled inside.

They even give you a little spoon to eat it with inside, AND you still get the toy. U know it makes sense.

Oh and heres an incomplete list of bands and arteeeses ive seen over the past month or sa:

1. the temper trap

2. kasabian

3. ray davies

4. magnetic man

5. skream/benga

6. Placebo

7. Iron Maiden

8. Soulwax

9. Blink 182

10. Limp Bizkit (no really)

11. Bloody Beetroots

12. Seasick Steve

13. Steve Aoki

14. Benny Benassi

15. Yeasayer

16. Bad Religion

17. Major Lazer

18. Ellie Goulding

19. 2manydjs

20. prodigy

21. Queens of the Stone age

22. The fall

23. Atlas Sound

24. Caribou

25. Sound of stereoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooook theres steam coming off my keyboard now.

Boomtown. xxxxx

Much as i love my little old button-shoe blog

I love it even more when im far too busy having a life and actual things to do to write in it.
So i'll just continue the illusion that i do actually have both of the above things by keeping this sweet and simple.
The read of which i aim to be rather like enjoying (and not telling anyone about) a high quality and surely, legally imported, box of chocolates from croydon market/lidl or similar.

Righto. Well firstly I am hugely indebted to (stealing the find of) Sean by posting the link to this awesome video, but I am way too in love with it to let the chance to self centredly blab about it on here pass me by:







Exclusive/Inclusive. It's deliciousness akin to that of the much maligned strawberry truffle (though i remain an equal opportunities blog by admitting that they aren't everyones favorites (why??!)).
Love.

Check out the way the little smooch-print dress whirlpools around when she's asked to dance by the rather handsome chap in the bar. A-well-he-llooooooo there.

2.
Read the book
Love the book
Foghorn on to everyone that comes close about how good the book is for 4 months until the film comes out.
I give you- Mr. Nice. Green Triangle.


oh and a whipped up cup of coppola/phoenix/downtempo caramelly strokes'll do nicely if you dont mind:



and...oh go on then i'll just have the one...



SUGAR COMA
xxx

Lover, You Should've Come Over...

Hi Hi Hi Hi Bonj

I am aware that I haven't updated my blog in a number of weeks, an excuse for which i am completely searching my pockets for but do not have. I can't really talk that well at present moment, as i have somehow given myself a slight chealsea smile on the right side of my mouth (mmm, attractive) but you dont really have to open your mouth to type, unless, like lots of the time i am, you're trying to smoke hands-free holding a fag in your teeth.

If anyone can actually remember how ive given myself this injury then please...share with the circle.

I have, however, had and seen loads of stuff happen that i've ranted away to whomsoever has the misfortune of being next to me or for some unknown reason has actually CHOSEN to be with me at these moments 'ohmyguzzzzzzzmtOTALLYgunnaputthisonmyblogahahaha'

But suffice to say there have been too many of these moments (apologies, friends and strangers) for me to actually reference blog-wards everything that has popped up.

I mean i did actually SEE courtney love in the flesh and everything.

And me and lizzy are bezzie mates with darwin deez but yknow...NBD. Well, sort of BD, Liz has actually penned quite a catchy song/rap about our beautiful friendship triangle but release dates are strictly under raps and i dont wanna get sued by her record label (hit in the face) for saying anything else about it.

More recently though, after the breif peroid in my life when i did actually think that diagrams of chemical equasions were my only friends and that one fateful day when i did actually spend over 12 hours in the library, a few notable fun occasions have...occured.

PARKLIFE! Festival, a rollable distance from my both old and new Manchester residences was saturday. Despite the rather agreeable lineup, made even more agreeable by the 25 quid ticket tag, I still only managed to fully witness fourtet, with a way more than proportionate amount of my time spent laughing and running around wrapped up in blanket with jack, or lying on said blanket with blanket and mine's mutual friend Pascal. In fact, the blanket was the best mate I had all day, it came grinding along with me to Total Garage and schmoozed it's way to a total of four parties before sheltering me from the rain on the 6am walk back to it's house afterwards.

Holla Blanket.

Throughout the end of year, summervibe, carnival time ive actually been able to chill and read on a number of occasions...

...and am highly anticipating going absoloutely QUACKERS and SHAKING MY TAIL FEATHER on the London Ducktour this saturday for L's birthday. The website discribes the experience as 'DRIVING FROM THE ROAD BEFORE DRAMATICALLY LAUNCHING INTO THE THAMES '.

Lizzy, says i upon the suggestion of the magical anphibious trip, this is one of your better ideas. But riddle me this. Dont you think an altogether more 'dramatic' entrance to the Thames would be, say...

Telling someone, possibly an errent boyfriend, they were gonna have a nice pedicure, before applying relaxing cucumber slices to their eyes. After placing their feet into one of those foot spa-whirlpool bath things, utilising the element of suprise, and when they were least expecting, adding some cement mix ('bath salts, babe') to the whirlpool mixture. Then, and highly....suprisingly...cucumber eyes would wake up with their adulterous feet entirely encased in concrete.

And then be thrown into camden lock.

Alive.

SUPRISE, WANKER!

If i can manc it there i'll manc it...in manchester

I am back in the hippedy-hop buzzing city that never sleeps (but they will soon cos they're making that shit illegal)

The memory of my packet of fags being ripped up last week is but a distant memory though i have had to resort to rolling thanks to my card being delicned in lidl.

As lovely as it is to be back the remaining weekorso at home was studded with loads of lovely outings to the country (http://www.fannysfarmshop.co.uk/), attempting to 'dance' when that really quite honestly FANTASTIC song by mumford and sons which i have stupidly forgotten the name of came on after Foals at New slang and selling my ferregamo's for a measly 11 quid at portobello market...where i found this rather dashing old slushpuppy coloured fur coat with pictures of minnie mouse on!

In a moment of tuberculosis induced stupidity i did actually WILLINGLY give away my packet of fags to luke, who i went out for drinks with but coudlnt really chat much to at the time becuse i was constantly hacking like a coalmining witch.

The hilarity of a missed call from L with angry yet loving and thoughtful message 'DONT SMOKE! xxx' from luke this afternoon was only suppased by the one i was woken up with:

'not coming back to manc today...volcano exploded'

so as robbie is currently riding a tidal wave of molten lava we will have to make our own fun this evening

New yorks thatatway man

Thanks kid!

'Peaches Geldof...what a cunt...NUMBER SIXTY FOUR'

YAWN. Jingle. YAWN. Tumbleweedsound. Munch munch munch. YAWN.

If you were my blind stalker these would be the wonderful sounds you would've heard on a continual loop for the past few days.

After having a rather lovely yet money frittering easter week (ironically seeing as lent hadn't even finished) my main activities have recently consisted of sitting on my sofa, halfheartedly chewing on whatever defenceless item of food that may be in my peripheral vison, riding my bike around any flat streets around my house (i maintain it is the bikes fault i can't pedal uphil), and the good ol' favorites bbm, facebookchat and http://www.watchshitqualitymoviesillegallyonline.com/.

Most of my money was foolishly cheese-gratered away at this:

doing this:

with wonderful company. A rather scenic and sunny battersea-vauxhaul morning stroll was enjoyed by all, passing such wonderful landmarks as 'dogs home' and 'random chinese pagoda thing by the river'.

However being lazy sometimes has it's upswings. Here's a picture of my REALLY DELICIOUS LOOKING (sort of) hot X buns, the first thing ive cooked in fucking forever. They tasted okay actually. Behind is another foolish purchase, a box of Kellogs Krave, which i had to try to have an opinion on...the opinion being...they're okay. Very teasing, just made me want to buy an actual jar of nutella instead of trying to kid myself. 6.5/10.

As The Clash once said [sort of]

I'm so bored with the SM1

I'm so bored with the SM1

But what can i do?

Sainsbury's £5 Vodka Treats Me Like it does Your Mother.

Last Night's Night-scapades culminated in me pretty much comatosed in James' bed after necking about a litre of a delightful cocktail comprised of a rough 3:1 ratio Vodka/Blackcurrent squash. Too much alcohol always does have that effect of making me amazingly social (laughing to myself whist eating cold bolognese out of a pan) and sparklingly witty ('i think if i move im gonna vom, can i sleep here please')

This of course would've been perfectly acceptable if it hadnt only been about 11.30pm. Soz James.

Anyhoo, after being woken up by a courtesy call from gareth enquiring into my sanity/whereabouts, he advised me to take a Personal Day (jibb off uni, get yr nailzz done, get yr hairrr did, chez) so that is precisely what i am doing, sitting, looking like i am doing very important work in the design lab when in fact im just wittering on about complete crap on my blog before my hair appointment.

'Who's Got it Figured out...'

Anyway.

Here are a few things that have been making us say 'ee-GAD!' for the last few weeks.

1. ECHO BARS

Does anyone remember these?

Well we did in a moment of ICEBERG clarity

I was debating weather or not to pop these little gems up on here in fear of making my blog almost entirely devoted to snack foods, but they are too good not too. Really thick chocolate...only a tiiiiny amount of really nice biscuit and then BUBBLY WHITE CHOCOLATE!? Well yes please. And only 20p each at the shit corner shop round the corner from where my lectures are. Tip: steer clear of the mint flavour, its just trying to convince you its as nice as the original. Yummy.

2. WHEN YR MATES ARE IN BANDS AND THAT

Vegans 1st gig absoloutely sell-out smashing it at the corner on monday. To find out what I think of them, in a sort of 'internet scavanger hunt'-type activity, type the text you find on these gorgeous lads' teeshirts into http://www.freetranslation.com/ and translate it from French to English.

Otherwise you will never know my opinion.

3. HENRY HOLLAND IS COOL APPARENTLY

One time when i was getting of the tube at green park i saw henry holland walking the opposite direction. I didnt really know what to do, so i just sort of went 'er, excuse me', but he was ipod-ed up and proceeded to cross the road like the normal tend to do.

The mate he was crossing the road to meet sort of pointed to me and went 'er, i think that girl wanted to talk to you', by which time we were both sort of standing at oppoiste sides of the road looking at each other apologetically (him) and dizzily starstruck (me).

Obviously this whole event took about half a second but for me TIME STOOD STILL.

Anyway, HH seems to be constantly impressing me at the mome, in fact so much that i spent my last twenty six quid last week on one of this lurvely playsuits which i cant actually find a fucking picture of anywhere on the internet so im just gonna pop up a picture of me and hollz having breakfast-on-bed like we do actually quite often because we're mates now. yeah i know its not me. GOD.

Really want one of those teeshirts, the 'CTFO' Chill The Fuck Out one, not least because i probably do need to chill the fuck out, but because i originally thought it stood for Come The Fuck on (Bridget.)

HOPPPY EASTER

xx

Morgan Frost: 'My life can only really be described as smashing it on the daily.'

Fairly tired this beautiful day after a relatively energetic weekend, I can't really muster up the strenght to spit for so long on this ins and outs of my life and times, also, seeing as NOBODY FUCKING READS MY BLOG ANYWAY doing so would be about as useful as pavarotti singing into a vaccum...ie...completely pointless.

These things, however, are definitely worth a memo.

Here is a link to 'Oh Centra!' by some band called Javelin. Whats not to love about an 8-bit synth song, sung on helium, with sultry lyrics like 'you play me like suduko//do you wanna go to the park and feed the kangaroo'...

wish someone would ask me that. pffffft.

http://stereogum.com/287461/javelin-oh-centra/mp3s/m/287461/javelin-oh-centra/mp3s/

When something makes you stop in your tracks and fall into a beauty-overload induced daze for five or more minutes you for sure know that Peter Pilotto s/s '10 is on to a winner... you can't see from the pictures but the silk print on the dress is made out of lots of teensy weens pictures of firework explosions.

all donations welcome...

Now we've made pleasantries, please stop whatever the fuck you're doing and watch Mesrine and then get a snack and watch MESRINE 2. Thankyou James for introducing me to Mr. Jaques. Oui, Oui, Maman.

Yes folks, after 3 months, i have finally remembered my blog password.

As across the border brother jack has just said
a lot of mad stuff seems to happen in my life
apart from...usually one day out of ten in which the need to sleep and eat and be AWAY from thousands of The Youth Insane overcomes me.

list of things you need to get over a nightmare in flat 8:
1. cup of tea
1.5. 2 sugars
2. half a cigarette rolled by a pal you'd forgotten about pre-nightmare
3. facebook chat
4. ability to shake fist at dubstep-whistling cunts outside your window
5.bbm
6. pipe dreams of kerry katona, millhouse and bart being best friends for 'geographic purporses mainly'
7. 'ghettotatter 2.0' not blowing up in miles's face this time...hopefully
8. mummy coming to visit me for just enough time to conveniently buy me dinner, congratulate me on quitting smoking and give me twenty quid
9. the shape of things to come
10. hilarity of being smitten with a complete effing stranger who seems to know all your mates.

All Apologies

Merely days after the clocks struck 12 (somewhere...at the Old Blue Last however there wasn't actually a midnight countdown), and still after i'd rolled out of bed to blearlily welcome a new decade into my life, it hit me, with the same sound, force and calamity of a sumo gong that i had been neglecting my poor old blog for quite some while.

The salt packed in my self gouged wound was that someone I mildly detest- the darling shall remained unnamed here- had started a blog not unlike mine. The upswing of this was that it still renders PFNT a sincerely pinch-of-(wound)salt affair, unlike the banal self righteous ramblings of some people.

So what, prey tell, have i been doing with my life, the life which i have idled away instead of concentrating at the blogging of important national and international current affairs to...well...just Rachel and Gigi really (thanks for the support guys) ?!

The answer would be illustrated visually if you took your average female university student, turned up the colour contrast, static and noise on the TV set you're watching her on, minused from the equasion the many hours wilfully analysing Radiohead's back catalogue and riding around in a sainsbury's trolley pissed on wkd, and fed her upon a diet of Lidl vegedable soup peppered liberally with speed.*

There are way too many highly interesting and really very exiting(?) anecdotes i could describe at this point, but i digress. I do not have the strenght, patience or near enough as many memory braincells that have not been doused and killed with alcohol to regail every single one of them.

Let me just tie the ends of this soggy, half arsed apology for a blog entry, leave you in the good will that there will actually be some half-decent-entertaining-ish shit posted up here in the near future, and leave it at that.

I've said my peice. Now here are a couple of nice pictures of nice things that i really, really, think are really quite nice at the moment.

Penelope Cruz in 'Blow', Marina and the Diamons, and Four letters of Love by Nial Williams. FIN.

*I do not take, nor condone the taking of speed. Cant afford any, anyway.