29.08.15

6.23pm. London.

I Think You’re Well Lush. 

So my
makeup bag resembles the reduced shelf in Boots. I ain’t got no time for
expensive beauty products.

Luckily,
the good guys at Lush don’t mess about when it comes to cosmetics, and turns
out they do more than just bath bombs.

Their
products are ethical and jam packed full of the most wonderful ingredients. No
bollocks, just straight up nature.

And NOT
that you should abuse their generosity, but if you swing by any branch, they’re
more than willing to filling up some pots with different things to try. You
don’t even need to buy anything- unlike some
makeup counters where you have to remortgage your house and open up like 7
store cards before they’ll even consider giving you samples of their animal
tears products.

My
favourite from Lush is the face mask, ‘Cup O’ Coffee’. If you like coffee then
my god are you in for a treat. It may look like that crap you get when you burn
rice in a pan, but it smells like Starbucks, Costa and Lavazza had an orgy.

The
nice young man (as if I used this phrase now, someone kill me before I hit 25)
who served me randomly gave me a whole pot for free, with a little note, ‘Love
from Joe, pass it forward.’ And for all you haterz, he wasn’t hitting on me cos
he was gay, kay? (I also know this because he told me about his ex. Shit got
deep.) It normally costs £6.50, which is ridiculously cheap. I passed my
savings forward by passing myself a glass of wine in the Groucho last night.
Felt good to do myself a favour.

They
say on their website about ‘Cup O’ Coffee’, “Just around the corner there’s a rainbow in the sky.
So let’s have another cup o’ coffee and let’s have another piece o’ pie!” god
knows what they mean by that, but happy days for groovy packaging.

Basically Lush, I think
you’re well Lush.

I’m sorta sat here at work kinda chest- pumping to ‘Me Against the Music’ by Britney and Madonna- ‘I wanna get in the zowwwwwnnn, I’mma takaa you owwwnnnn.’ You know that jam. ‘Let me see ya, I wanna see ya.’ Christ, some lyrics really are crap aren’t they? 

Soooo since getting my hair cut in Soho, I then went back and got it highlighted for a very reasonable £60, but I definitely said ‘please destroy my hair and make it white, thanks sah much.’ He didn’t, he did what every good hairdresser does, and subtly made my hair look as thought I’d sat in the sun for a day or so. How quaint for the other life Jenny. This other life Jenny probably also has savings, a drivers license and nice nails. THIS JENNY IS TRASHY AND WANTS TRASHY HAIR THAT SUITS HER TRASHY LIFESTYLE. Flipping hell. Anyways, so now my hair looks nice and I’m a bit down about it. 

On the upside, me and Gee are starting our radio show this Sunday. Y’all choon in now, y’hear? I don’t wanna hear any of this, ‘I’m not bothered about you or Gina’ or even, ‘Who are you? Leave me alone’. Excuses excuses! You gotta listen. I don’t wanna fob you off with the wrong website address, so just go onto google, search soho radio, then kerplam, you’re in it to win it. So Sunday, 2pm. Don’t be late! If you’re late I won’t ever know because I’ll be miles away and it’s more of a voice thing, but the guilt will drive you insane and you’ll get 6 months in prison for it.

On a lighter note, Percy Pig has got friends. Two of them to be exact. A sheep-cow and a cow-sheep. Not sure which is which, but the cow is coca cola flavoured and the sheep is really fluffy and cute and according to Gina looks like a placenta. Yum!

So I’m chowing down on Percy Pig, moo moo cow and placenta sheep, but later I’m going to eat Broccoli and rice.

Oh yeah I joined Fitness First. Wrote that as Fitness Fist first then giggled then was like oh god i’m horrible, fist is a normal word why would that make me giggle?

So the gym is cool, went to Body Attack on Monday with Gina at 7.15. Yes 7.15 kids, I plan to have a body so darn slammin, y’all gonna be like woah and i’ll do that ‘progression’ selfie thing. Probs won’t to be fair. I have one of those bods that looks great in clothes but naked it’s more like Salad Fingers from Youtube. 

Gina right this very second: ‘Omg my hair is full of milk’ (she spilled it this morning, it’s now 5.10pm)

Me (not really arsed, trying to type this): Oh yeah, haha…

Gina: No look! It stands up by itself!

Jesus Gina, have a wash child. 

Nah, in her milky defence there aint no shower at work. I’ll scrub her down when we get home, pre broccoli.

Gerry, Gina and I are going to IKEA soon to act out scenes in those pre made rooms. It’s going to all be about sustainability, then we’re going to get arrested and thrown out. The pandas are cool with it but the golden elephant CBA and is going to hold the fort. We’re going to text Jonie when we’re on our way home so she can make some sandwiches for our arrival. Cool beans.

On Tues (two weeks ago) we met up with the loverly Coley (Gina’s homey) and went to Vogue fashion parties. This sounds very glam but it required a lot of walking about. We took selfies and drank lots of cocktails and queued for a copy of Vogue.

I went to see my momma, not last weekend but the one before (where DOES the time go?)… that was all kinds of fun and I met the new cat she’s got called Jet who is CAAHUTTTEEEE and I wanted to squeeze him very hard and I couldn’t because I would crush his skeleton and I can’t imagine for a second my mum would be too happy about that.

Oh yeah, fucking Gina right. Yesterday she crept up on me whilst I was washing my face in the B-room, then THIS MORNING at the gym as I was MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, she decides to push her face up against the opaque glass wall of my shower, which made me scream. I hate her so much.

Gina’s been painting a room at work called ‘The Snug’. It’s where we all chill and breakout creatively, and when I saw her handy work it was like looking at the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, props to you and high five and big hug and hand shake to you ma friend.

Sooooo Gina’s eloped with Michelangelo, milk and all. I’m just here, writing my blog, waiting for tidy-up-time (do you remember at school you used to put your chairs on your table and I used to sing, ‘it’s time to tidy up time’. But this one time at time to tidy up time some bitch, who I can’t remember the name of now, stole my cool strawberry lip salve that my mum bought me from ASDA after I waited for like a year before I could wear ‘makeup’ (note to everyone, yes my mum is a bit retarded and would constitute lip salve as makeup) DURING time to tidy up time because I was an overpowering child whereby I voluntarily went around making sure everyone has sufficiently tidied up. While the cat’s away eh? Not sure that fits there, but it’s a sad tale, one I’ll never forget.)

Future plans? Well now, tomorrow is Thursday and then by some madness it is then FRIDAY which means I might see SARAH who BAILED on me last weekend, so that’ll be nice, won’t it? Then Saturday Gina and I and loadsa people from work are going to Nikki’s (accounts lady) wedding bash. We’re going to dress up and look well good. We’ll put loadsa piccies on FB if ya want and ya can be like mergod Jenn looks right nice. 

I’m also sorry/ guilty for not taking better pictures for the blog. It’s because I’m lazy. But here’s one of me looking at Gina as she looks at me, taking a picture. It’s like inception or voyeurism or quinoa or something… 

To finish on, Gina and I now have a set of drawers from IKEA that we put our underwear in. 

I’m sorta sat here at work kinda chest- pumping to ‘Me Against the Music’ by Britney and Madonna- ‘I wanna get in the zowwwwwnnn, I’mma takaa you owwwnnnn.’ You know that jam. ‘Let me see ya, I wanna see ya.’ Christ, some lyrics really are crap aren’t they? 

Soooo since getting my hair cut in Soho, I then went back and got it highlighted for a very reasonable £60, but I definitely said ‘please destroy my hair and make it white, thanks sah much.’ He didn’t, he did what every good hairdresser does, and subtly made my hair look as thought I’d sat in the sun for a day or so. How quaint for the other life Jenny. This other life Jenny probably also has savings, a drivers license and nice nails. THIS JENNY IS TRASHY AND WANTS TRASHY HAIR THAT SUITS HER TRASHY LIFESTYLE. Flipping hell. Anyways, so now my hair looks nice and I’m a bit down about it. 

On the upside, me and Gee are starting our radio show this Sunday. Y’all choon in now, y’hear? I don’t wanna hear any of this, ‘I’m not bothered about you or Gina’ or even, ‘Who are you? Leave me alone’. Excuses excuses! You gotta listen. I don’t wanna fob you off with the wrong website address, so just go onto google, search soho radio, then kerplam, you’re in it to win it. So Sunday, 2pm. Don’t be late! If you’re late I won’t ever know because I’ll be miles away and it’s more of a voice thing, but the guilt will drive you insane and you’ll get 6 months in prison for it.

On a lighter note, Percy Pig has got friends. Two of them to be exact. A sheep-cow and a cow-sheep. Not sure which is which, but the cow is coca cola flavoured and the sheep is really fluffy and cute and according to Gina looks like a placenta. Yum!

So I’m chowing down on Percy Pig, moo moo cow and placenta sheep, but later I’m going to eat Broccoli and rice.

Oh yeah I joined Fitness First. Wrote that as Fitness Fist first then giggled then was like oh god i’m horrible, fist is a normal word why would that make me giggle?

So the gym is cool, went to Body Attack on Monday with Gina at 7.15. Yes 7.15 kids, I plan to have a body so darn slammin, y’all gonna be like woah and i’ll do that ‘progression’ selfie thing. Probs won’t to be fair. I have one of those bods that looks great in clothes but naked it’s more like Salad Fingers from Youtube. 

Gina right this very second: ‘Omg my hair is full of milk’ (she spilled it this morning, it’s now 5.10pm)

Me (not really arsed, trying to type this): Oh yeah, haha…

Gina: No look! It stands up by itself!

Jesus Gina, have a wash child. 

Nah, in her milky defence there aint no shower at work. I’ll scrub her down when we get home, pre broccoli.

Gerry, Gina and I are going to IKEA soon to act out scenes in those pre made rooms. It’s going to all be about sustainability, then we’re going to get arrested and thrown out. The pandas are cool with it but the golden elephant CBA and is going to hold the fort. We’re going to text Jonie when we’re on our way home so she can make some sandwiches for our arrival. Cool beans.

On Tues (two weeks ago) we met up with the loverly Coley (Gina’s homey) and went to Vogue fashion parties. This sounds very glam but it required a lot of walking about. We took selfies and drank lots of cocktails and queued for a copy of Vogue.

I went to see my momma, not last weekend but the one before (where DOES the time go?)… that was all kinds of fun and I met the new cat she’s got called Jet who is CAAHUTTTEEEE and I wanted to squeeze him very hard and I couldn’t because I would crush his skeleton and I can’t imagine for a second my mum would be too happy about that.

Oh yeah, fucking Gina right. Yesterday she crept up on me whilst I was washing my face in the B-room, then THIS MORNING at the gym as I was MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, she decides to push her face up against the opaque glass wall of my shower, which made me scream. I hate her so much.

Gina’s been painting a room at work called ‘The Snug’. It’s where we all chill and breakout creatively, and when I saw her handy work it was like looking at the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, props to you and high five and big hug and hand shake to you ma friend.

Sooooo Gina’s eloped with Michelangelo, milk and all. I’m just here, writing my blog, waiting for tidy-up-time (do you remember at school you used to put your chairs on your table and I used to sing, ‘it’s time to tidy up time’. But this one time at time to tidy up time some bitch, who I can’t remember the name of now, stole my cool strawberry lip salve that my mum bought me from ASDA after I waited for like a year before I could wear ‘makeup’ (note to everyone, yes my mum is a bit retarded and would constitute lip salve as makeup) DURING time to tidy up time because I was an overpowering child whereby I voluntarily went around making sure everyone has sufficiently tidied up. While the cat’s away eh? Not sure that fits there, but it’s a sad tale, one I’ll never forget.)

Future plans? Well now, tomorrow is Thursday and then by some madness it is then FRIDAY which means I might see SARAH who BAILED on me last weekend, so that’ll be nice, won’t it? Then Saturday Gina and I and loadsa people from work are going to Nikki’s (accounts lady) wedding bash. We’re going to dress up and look well good. We’ll put loadsa piccies on FB if ya want and ya can be like mergod Jenn looks right nice. 

I’m also sorry/ guilty for not taking better pictures for the blog. It’s because I’m lazy. But here’s one of me looking at Gina as she looks at me, taking a picture. It’s like inception or voyeurism or quinoa or something… 

To finish on, Gina and I now have a set of drawers from IKEA that we put our underwear in. 

The one and only picture in this post kinda represents how I feel. Wednesday is the new Saturday (trust me, it’s a fact) and I’m still at work ALSO saddened by the thought of boarding the tube at Tottenham Court Road. What else is sad? Oh yeah I can smell pizza and I want pizza and I keep eating everything and it’s not ok. 

So I lost my bloody phone in bloody Budapest (shouldn’t say bloody here as I do so love Budapest, but it was a bloody disaster all the same.  Geoffrey Hughes in Swearing: A social history of foul language, oaths and profanity in English (Blackwell, 1991), points out that “by my lady” is not an adjective whereas bloody is, and suggests that the slang use of the term started with bloody drunk meaning “fired up and ready for a fight”. Another theory is that the offensive use of the word arose during the Wars of the Roses when Royalty and nobility or those “of the blood” (meaning blue-blooded descendants of Charlemagne) wrought death and the most bloody destruction on England. Elizabeth I is also supposed to have used it when referring to her elder sister, Mary, due to her persecution of Protestants.)

So anyhoo, I went into the 3 shop, threw myself across the counter, wailed about how I lost my phone, how i’ll never see it again. The memories (‘Oh the memories!’).. all those pictures! My sweet, sweet contacts… I’ll never see them again! Some dirty horrible person, holding my phone (‘My darling phone!’). My precious apps, all their precious data… gone… gone *sobs*…

Turns out I was due and upgrade 3 months ago and now I have a shiny YELLOW 5c. Fuck the iPhone 4, what a brick. 

So yes all is well again in Jennifer Yellow Hat Land… although I do miss Budapest, and all the people it contains. I met some rather extra cool new people out there too. Hi, hi, how do ya do? I do well, you are good, isn’t it nice?

So I write this, sat at work. I can hear the hustle and bustle (it’s literally hustle and bustle… it actually sounds like if someone was to record a track called, ‘hustle and bustle.1’, that is what it would sound like.) outside of people going about their merriment on glorious payday (I realise I’m not doing myself any favours on ye ol’ mugging front but s’all reet.)

I contemplating eating a Rivita, with some hummus on it. I get really torn between eating ‘low fat’ or ‘Organic’. Cos, one has less fat, but one is more nutritious. I got the more organic one, because it was 3p cheaper. 

I really fancy a pint, but but but but I’m going out tomorrow with some Budapestarians, then Friday with JB, Rey, Gee and Jord (sounds like the French Alphabet. Ahh Beyy Ceeyy Deyyy Eughhh Efff Shhhhhggggeyyy..) and dennnnn on Sat my Gashgrove girldem is coming to London which is just about too much for one Croth to handle- but I must push on and up and around otherwise I’ll explode with a force more deadly than the venom of a daddy long legs. (Still dubious about this DLL fact)

I need to do more exercise: I did 8 minute abs yesterday morning and I can feel my little skinny rolls resting under my t-shirt. I say skinny rolls; I know i’m not fat, but i’ve got the body shape of a boy, so I actually just look a bit like one of those jelly aliens we got when we were like 10 and everyone was like they’ll get pregnant BY STICKING THEIR HEADS TOGETHER ARE YOU MENTAL THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS. You stick their backs together silly.

Also I’m a bit bummed cos I did a VLOG (video blog. A surprisingly small amount of people actually knew what VLOG meant.) and it won’t bloody well upload. I do a professor McGonagal impression and everything!! Nevermind Crothstar. 

I woke up at 4am this morning because I dreamt I was late for a rap battle with Cecilia Watcher. 

Oh also, me and Gee went for a creative brainstorm about banner adverts and we went to a vegan place in Soho and this random man gave us a half opened box of blueberries which we ate and now I feel dizzy. Distinctly remember being told something about strangers, sweeties, vans, etc. I was bloody delighted though- thought I was far too old to be lured into a fruit stall. Apparently not. So that was a treat, if not potentially harmful to our health. We also ate a flapjack and and muffin. The muffin was dry which is surprising for vegan food cos those odd balls replace EVERYTHING WITH OIL. 

Oh also, everyone listen to Soho Radio. Just Google, ‘Soho Radio’ and it’ll come up. It’s like well good, and I really think they’re on to something. I’m not sure what I’m trying to achieve by plugging this- friendship probably. I could do with more friends in London. Gina’s become more of a backup if nobody will marry me. 

Well that was a lonely way to leave things, so instead i’ll write a jolly old poem about blueberries.

Blueberries are blue

And for that

They are untrue-

They are technically

Technically

Purple-ish

A fun fact

Is that

Nothing

Not one thing

No food or plant

Is truly blue

And could it be that you

Will second guess that this

Is some blue food test?

No, Blueberries cannot be blue.

This, I promise is true.

L.Y.R.I.C.A.L. geniiiiiiuarse. 

*Does curtsey, falls over, tries to stand, suddenly naked, wakes up sweating, was in a dream that I was in a poetry competition*

Night kiddos. 

The one and only picture in this post kinda represents how I feel. Wednesday is the new Saturday (trust me, it’s a fact) and I’m still at work ALSO saddened by the thought of boarding the tube at Tottenham Court Road. What else is sad? Oh yeah I can smell pizza and I want pizza and I keep eating everything and it’s not ok. 

So I lost my bloody phone in bloody Budapest (shouldn’t say bloody here as I do so love Budapest, but it was a bloody disaster all the same.  Geoffrey Hughes in Swearing: A social history of foul language, oaths and profanity in English (Blackwell, 1991), points out that “by my lady” is not an adjective whereas bloody is, and suggests that the slang use of the term started with bloody drunk meaning “fired up and ready for a fight”. Another theory is that the offensive use of the word arose during the Wars of the Roses when Royalty and nobility or those “of the blood” (meaning blue-blooded descendants of Charlemagne) wrought death and the most bloody destruction on England. Elizabeth I is also supposed to have used it when referring to her elder sister, Mary, due to her persecution of Protestants.)

So anyhoo, I went into the 3 shop, threw myself across the counter, wailed about how I lost my phone, how i’ll never see it again. The memories (‘Oh the memories!’).. all those pictures! My sweet, sweet contacts… I’ll never see them again! Some dirty horrible person, holding my phone (‘My darling phone!’). My precious apps, all their precious data… gone… gone *sobs*…

Turns out I was due and upgrade 3 months ago and now I have a shiny YELLOW 5c. Fuck the iPhone 4, what a brick. 

So yes all is well again in Jennifer Yellow Hat Land… although I do miss Budapest, and all the people it contains. I met some rather extra cool new people out there too. Hi, hi, how do ya do? I do well, you are good, isn’t it nice?

So I write this, sat at work. I can hear the hustle and bustle (it’s literally hustle and bustle… it actually sounds like if someone was to record a track called, ‘hustle and bustle.1’, that is what it would sound like.) outside of people going about their merriment on glorious payday (I realise I’m not doing myself any favours on ye ol’ mugging front but s’all reet.)

I contemplating eating a Rivita, with some hummus on it. I get really torn between eating ‘low fat’ or ‘Organic’. Cos, one has less fat, but one is more nutritious. I got the more organic one, because it was 3p cheaper. 

I really fancy a pint, but but but but I’m going out tomorrow with some Budapestarians, then Friday with JB, Rey, Gee and Jord (sounds like the French Alphabet. Ahh Beyy Ceeyy Deyyy Eughhh Efff Shhhhhggggeyyy..) and dennnnn on Sat my Gashgrove girldem is coming to London which is just about too much for one Croth to handle- but I must push on and up and around otherwise I’ll explode with a force more deadly than the venom of a daddy long legs. (Still dubious about this DLL fact)

I need to do more exercise: I did 8 minute abs yesterday morning and I can feel my little skinny rolls resting under my t-shirt. I say skinny rolls; I know i’m not fat, but i’ve got the body shape of a boy, so I actually just look a bit like one of those jelly aliens we got when we were like 10 and everyone was like they’ll get pregnant BY STICKING THEIR HEADS TOGETHER ARE YOU MENTAL THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS. You stick their backs together silly.

Also I’m a bit bummed cos I did a VLOG (video blog. A surprisingly small amount of people actually knew what VLOG meant.) and it won’t bloody well upload. I do a professor McGonagal impression and everything!! Nevermind Crothstar. 

I woke up at 4am this morning because I dreamt I was late for a rap battle with Cecilia Watcher. 

Oh also, me and Gee went for a creative brainstorm about banner adverts and we went to a vegan place in Soho and this random man gave us a half opened box of blueberries which we ate and now I feel dizzy. Distinctly remember being told something about strangers, sweeties, vans, etc. I was bloody delighted though- thought I was far too old to be lured into a fruit stall. Apparently not. So that was a treat, if not potentially harmful to our health. We also ate a flapjack and and muffin. The muffin was dry which is surprising for vegan food cos those odd balls replace EVERYTHING WITH OIL. 

Oh also, everyone listen to Soho Radio. Just Google, ‘Soho Radio’ and it’ll come up. It’s like well good, and I really think they’re on to something. I’m not sure what I’m trying to achieve by plugging this- friendship probably. I could do with more friends in London. Gina’s become more of a backup if nobody will marry me. 

Well that was a lonely way to leave things, so instead i’ll write a jolly old poem about blueberries.

Blueberries are blue

And for that

They are untrue-

They are technically

Technically

Purple-ish

A fun fact

Is that

Nothing

Not one thing

No food or plant

Is truly blue

And could it be that you

Will second guess that this

Is some blue food test?

No, Blueberries cannot be blue.

This, I promise is true.

L.Y.R.I.C.A.L. geniiiiiiuarse. 

*Does curtsey, falls over, tries to stand, suddenly naked, wakes up sweating, was in a dream that I was in a poetry competition*

Night kiddos.