‘Shhhhlerrropppppppah… ergle ergle eagle!’, went the plug. Did you hear it too? Do you understand what i’m on about? It’s the plug, being released after I firmly but the bung in at the end of my last post. Jeese guys, you’re the ones not keeping up. Run faster.

Let the waffle flow! (I imagine you to be some kind of red sea jesus, parting your day either side of this blog post.)
Set the scene (always a good way to bring people in). It’s literally 14.02pm in Soho. I am eating… what is it? I just went downstairs to eat the other half of my sad pot of Tesco soup (‘No Gina, I shan’t succumb to your Mexican Friday Treat Day (why the F does my spell check (on the Notes app might I add) always change ‘Treats to ‘Teats’. I have literally never written anything to do with teats. Maybe it was the TV script for Sudocrem, but even then, I hardly wrote the words, ‘Mother’s teats’. Jesus, anyway. Anyway Jesus.)) and the Cast of, ‘Lime Green’ (I say ‘cast’ because they all play different characters in my head, but they’re really our in-house accounts company.) overheard me talking to my soup (awkward) and offered me their last.. I mean I still can’t think what the right for it is. It’s a Burrito right, but the wrap is like a very thin Naan bread. NAAAAAAAAAN BREAD. They’re freaking delicious anyways and it’s my first one. You can buy them from the Kati (nobs- it’s a Kati Roll, duhh) Roll company on Poland street in Soho. Dey are very deewishus, thank you Lime Green. 
So i’m eating that, writing this, and listening to Rage Against the Machine. Gina is out sorting her phone on Oxford Circus. She keeps Googling things then saying, ‘I’ve been DOOPED (Duped? Dhurped?)’ which apparently means like, ‘been had’ or ‘mugged off’ or ‘scammed’. I hope she hasn’t been dooped. 
Ok so WTF have I been up to I hear all 10 of your cry, kind of.
I miss Sarah.
Last Saturday Gina and I hung out with Jeff. My wonderful Rabbi (capital R after Rabbi?) if you’re still reading this, Jeff and I miss you dearly. You and your poet- master husband! And I will make it my business to have at least one Bellini with you before the year is out.
So we went out with Jeff for a few drinkypoos- We started at a nice little pub next to the Garrick theatre, then moved onto a delicious Greek place called the Koha (I think). Prior to this, Gina and I drank rum. And filmed it. See link below for full coverage of ‘girls night in Jenga’ and other activities. Skipping past a few blurred details, the night ended in a bat mobile at Buckingham Palace. True Story Bro.
Sunday almost came and went. It came, but then tried to sneaky off so we were only left with Monday, but then as we laid in bed, working on our portfolio, pretending it was morning when it was definitely 7pm, Irish popped in to tell us Conde Nast were downstairs and would we like some flumps and some wine. We had both- free candy and booze bar. Nice nice nice. Look at picky 1 to see Gee flump da pump, the mini meringues, which in my very humble meringue opinion looked very pretty, but didn’t taste of much (Hi Sue (mum) your meringue’s are insanely good please never stop making them bye) and a quick selfie because we’re 22, we’re female, and it’s the 21st century. I very nearly turned into a flump that night. We chatted to an actor in Alabama’s (a new side room/ den in our home. It’s based on the film, True Romance. If you haven’t seen it, you suck and you should readjust your life immediately. Just kidding, but seriously. 
So after a near death with flumps, we took some bruchetta to bed. Monday came about in a very Monday- like fashion. I’m not entirely sure what we did. Meh well.
This week so far has meandered along. Nice and cool. The weather can’t seem to make its bloody mind up. Oh buggernuts- on Monday I met Amy! (Pic no.6, we’re touching her) The lovely Amy! Gina’s sister fo’ life (I’m the wife). We sat in Soho square and drank Bulmers. Then we went to Southbank (via public transport, which never fails to delight ones eyes. Check picture no. 2) and ate Mexican food on the river, after looking for a cashpoint (no exaggeration here) for about 2 HOURS. Come on London, I get the whole ‘no bins on the tube’ thing, it will only encourage people to half arsedly throw their rubbish in. BUT NO CASH POINTS IN SOUTHBANK WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. There are pay as you go bikes, statues of elephants, places for people to urinate IN PUBLIC BUT YOU COULDN’T MAKE A HOLE IN THE WALL. Ffffffflipping flip you, sometimes. I love you London. I’m just stressed and the pressure of getting employed is getting me down. I don’t mean to take it out on you, i know i know, what doesn’t break us will make us stronger. So i walked to feeeerrrrking Embankment for £5. On a happier note: Gina’s back from phone land. Hi. 
Pictures no. 3, 4 and 5 are some I took along the way to Embankment. Kudos of the highest to the guy who has stuck a golden camel to his postwar 1950s London terrace. Maybe it’s the same guy with FIRE COMING OUT OF HIS TRUMPET TROMBONE BRASS THING (pic no.7) Holy mackerel slap my side and call me Tracy, you my friend are a genius/ terrifying never approach me in any narrow dark crossing especially not a bridge because we both would not fit.
Picture 8 is of me and Gee near the fire music man. Everytime (herro red squiggle line, everytime is not a word? Damn I’m a bad writer. I’ll blame it on dyslexia) i’m out in London in public I think i’m a Spice Girl. (This is most of the time.)
I’ve been to the gym three times this week. I’m going to Australia in two weeks. Although it’s nearly Winter there so god knows why I’m bothering, unless I plan to take a skinny dip in Sydney Harbour. I’m very excited though. The people greeting me at the airport are people I haven’t seen in over two years, and they’re my best friends in the whole world (Gee, once again, doesn’t constitute as a friend. Buying each other ‘best friend’ bracelets would seem a little bit like saying to her, ‘You’re cool and we really get along, let’s hang out soon.’ We share a bed, a desk, clothes, makeup, business, ideas, and potentially genes (if not genes then in the future maybe children))
Oh talking of SHARING THINGS. 
@goonandcroth (Instagram)
@goonandcroth (Twitter)
@goonandcroth (vine)
That’s odd I thought we’d be at least a little bit inventive with our names on social media. Nope.
I’m watching her now. She’s swinging a sweety necklace back and forth and trying to catch them in her mouth whilst saying to herself, ‘Stop eating, Gina’. Oh deary bee.
I’ve started eating tinned Salmon as opposed to Tinned tuna. It’s like 30p more expensive but 100% better. Although Gee gets freaked out by the spinal cord still attached. Writing down now, I kinda see her point.
Picture no. 9 is Starksy our cat pretending to be in a musical: ‘FAME! I’m gonna liveeee for everrrrr’. hahahahah silly cat you cannot sing, and you have fleas. Ask them kindly to stop nibbling my toes. 

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