Rambling free

I love Leicester Square. 

I work there.

:-D

It's a place where you see lots of people you recognize, but you have to train yourself to ignore the initial response that your brain kicks in with. You know. The one where you want to smile and say hi. This training is essential as 99 percent of the time they are either on the TV or they are featured in posters or are in one of the many shows in London or some combination of those things and you do NOT know them personally.

IF you are untrained and you smile and say hi, they are going to think only one thing.

"Knob"

Saying that. Guess what happened. 

I was casually chilling outside the Ambassadors Theatre on the West End, waiting for a courier to deliver a keyboard needed for some auditions my company were using the venue for. (My life is different from before) Out the corner of my eye I saw a man and the initial response kicked in, I knew his face for sure. But I resisted. For reasons I have detailed previously. I have been trained well. I played it cool. Init. 

Like this chilled....

Then the man said "Long way from Grantham aren't you?" The initial response for my brain this time was, "Oh, probably know him then." Turns out it was none other than G who used to work behind the bar, at my  local back in my hometown, and has now moved to run a pub in Wimbledon. He just happened to be walking past on the way to a free haircut by the students at Saks hairdressers nearby.

How freaking extraordinarily bloody amazingly crazily coincidental was that. 

Small world indeed.

Spent way too much time on YouTube today. Found this though, which is genius and I must see it or I will have lived less than I would like. Check it - The Boy With Tape On His Face

There is a mosquito in this room and it is so gonna get deaded. 

Success At Last

In a spectacularly good mood since I got a lovely phone call yesterday asking if I would like the role as the new Intern at a charming Theatre Production Company, based in Leicester Square. A phone call that once hung up from, I over loudly exclaimed BOO YAH and proceeded to do a little dance around my room whilst squealing in the style of a chipmunk who has been gagged. Both noises frightened different birds outside my window and I accidentally kicked my desk quite harshly with my little toe during my squeaky jig. OUCH. But it was all good because it turns out I'm not inexplicably undesirable to employers. SWEET.

To celebrate, I immediately gorged on a massive Burger King until my stomach was rounded in a very un-sexy way... even when laying down. Did I care? No, because it turns out I'm not repulsively un-hire-able. EXCELLENT.

I will celebrate properly at the Ben and Jerrys Festival in Clapham Common tomorrow. Which will probably involve a similarly sexy belly and cider from a can. It's all rock'n'roll baby...

In No Particular Order

Things I like.

Being in on a joke.
Drunk people dancing with their eyes closed.
Not QUITE falling over.
The words "notorious" and "shimmering".
Grins that show all the teeth (but aren't scary)
Brightly painted nails.
Boys with awesome cheekbones.
When people say "I'm fantastic" when you ask how they are.
Chocolate. Lots of.
Looking for the cloud that is blocking the sun.
Huge, epic vats of popcorn. And not having to share.
When that person comes online and messages you.
My friends. My notoriously shimmering friends.
Accents.
Anticipation.
Words beginning with A that aren't AND.
Awesome. For example.
When my Dad dances to an 80s track.
Being winked at. ;-)
Sentences that don't end the way you shnizzle.
The smell of Davidoff cologne. Mmm.
Guitar players.
Blazing Saddles.
Car games with my Mother: In particular the "Dead Animal Game". I'll explain and spread the joy...
...You each get a side of the road. For each animal you get 1 point. For each leg still intact you get 1 point. And for identifying the species of animal. 1 point. Simples. I always win because Mother is concentrating on her driving. Works better in the Country...
The loveliness of Gavin and Stacey.
Snuggles.
Going to the Movies. Piracy is bad. Give yourself a slap.
Singing well.
Singing badly.
Spaghetti bolognese (said with the obligatory Italian accent)  Not complete without tomato stained lips, top and lap. Hair, hands, floor and forehead are optional.
Being taller than my StepMum. Home is the only kitchen I know with a stool.
Nan's cooking. And the formality of dining at my Grandparents'.
Not having to sit at the kids table anymore.
Notebooks that are so pretty, I can never write in them.
When my make-up and hair go right.
The Hitchikers' Guide to the Galaxy.
Knowing I'm more or less grown up now because I really enjoy a nice red wine.
The All American Rejects.
Pints of milk without the guilt.
Connie and her ways.
Watching my brother grow and calculating if I can still beat him up if needs be. Or, you know, if I fancy it.
Knowing my parents will tell my brother that.
Taking the plastic wrapping off DVDs.
The feel of fluffy towels, exfoliated skin, my keys in my bag, ice cubes and my computer keyboard.
When I photograph well.
People getting together at long last in films or TV programmes.
Being my older sisters' Big Sis.
Freedom.
Lists.

"to glorify things that are"

My title is taken from a poem I saw on the tube today. That is what this blog is about. Glorifying.
Most of life isn't interesting, but that doesn't mean you can't laugh at the small things, cry at the big things and be angry at the rain.

I'm well deep.

Went to see the X Factor Auditions at the O2 today. GOD! People can complain! If you got a free ticket to the O2, expect to queue for a few hours. Some choice phrases from today.
"They should give us free water and food" (If filling your mouth would shut you up)
"How DARE they be overrun! I have better things to do you know" (Go do them then)
"Oh Em Gee" (As bad as saying lol, let's be honest)

They say British People spend a lot of time queuing. And I'm one of them. But me and my mates kicked that queue's arse by making friends with a security guard/shepherd and, as a result, got let out of our section/pen/cage and went to Costa where i regretted my decision to buy a Iced Vanilla Latte instead of a Vanilla Latte Cooler. Note to self, always go for the pureed one. Not the shitty "poured over ice" one. Was overly jealous of the crushed ice variety and had a little pout to myself as I regretfully drank my pile of shit.


I just drank half a bottle of wine whilst watching The Apprentice.
I'm so grown up.

More than a wee bit tired...

I like my sleep. Ask anyone. Seriously.

My move to London has not changed this.

As a result, my bed and I get on very well.

On my bed, I have more cushions than necessary. I use them all excellently. Unlike those women who remove them before sleeping in the bed. Freaks.

I have many items hidden in between the cushions so leaving it isn't the only option.

Items include - 

• ear plugs (for when those morning people get up and make noise)
• book (currently I, Fatty by Jerry Stahl)
• diary and notebook (I have all my best ideas in bed. And make all my best plans)
• chocolate (currently just a chocolate wrapper, will aim a throw at my bin in a minute)
• bottle of water (currently with orange squash, quenching the thirst and pleasing the tastebuds)

AND my bed is right next to the light switch. The only thing that beats this is having a remote. 

I used to have one of those. It was freaking genius. 

Apart from when I rolled on it, which caused me leap out of bed ninja-styley. 

Leaping out of bed is the worst way to wake up, especially with my balance.

I'm rambling because for once I have had hardly any sleep instead of too much. So I have not seen my bed recently. As a result,  it feels neglected and wants to break up with me. I know this because I have been in it for two hours now and I am being denied sleepiness...

Oh bed, can't we work it out?

PS, Missed the bin. Bothered?

PPS, Sometimes a new paragraph for each sentence is necessary.