Just had a good stretch. Love a good stretch. It only dawned on me in the very second of writing that you could say, ‘stretches? I’ve had a good stretch.’ And mean like the same that you would mean if you said, ‘relationships? I’ve had a good stretch.’ What if like someone mistook you and they were like, ‘How does stretching and relationships relate?’. You’d probs be like, ‘well they don’t really.’ I reckon you’d be stuck in some kind of to-and-fro convo for a bit then move on. Continue reading
Right here we go then. What bloody shit show has Crothers gotten herself into this week. Drum roll pls.
So as I sit here wearing Gina’s jumper (‘just be careful mate I think there’s dog shit on the front’) I am a tad hungover as I went on a date last night and apparently Continue reading
After spending a weekend at home (Southwold) and having yet another D&M with Marj (what I call my mum. I got it from Austin Powers when that Dutch bloke says, ‘farja’ (instead of ‘Father’) and I changed it to Marja and now it’s just Marj). Came away feeling tres excite but also tres full of apple pie pud pud.
On my way home from work, bumbling along the Northern Line, I found myself staring at the girl opposite me and I just started thinking about how shit her necklace is.
It’s was remarkably crap- a little collection of Continue reading
11.05 am. Island Magee. Ireland.
This week
has been very normal. A bit clichéd. Clichéd rain, clichéd grey sky… although something
happened in London on Monday that was very un- cliché.
Cliché drumroll plz…
When I got on the Victoria line at Euston (my nearest stop is Oxford Circus. If
you’re planning on stalking me you could 100% piece together this blog and have
me killed off before tea time) this Irish business man, who we later found out
lives in Finchley, started chatting to this young guy who we sooner found out
has just moved here this very day from Manhattan and is looking for a job. Any
job. It was the perfect start to a clichéd chick-flick. They may make it some
day and I reckon the extra who plays me will be a right babe. All fake tanned
whilst dramatically squinting at her e-book reader pretending not to eavesdrop
(great word) on the NOT-CLICHED conversation on the tube.
This brings
me smoothly onto my Nicoise (it doesn’t but if I say it does then you’ll think
it does.) On Tuesday I trekked (walked approx. 0.1km) through the rain in Soho
to grab some Tuna for my NEWLY APPOINTED LUNCHTIME CEO NICOISE SALAD.
Now, you
normally get faced with either [insert shitty supermarket name here]’s own
brand, or JOHN WEST, who apparently really digs being a tuna farmer (farmer?
Excavator? Do you excavate fish from the sea? Or do you harvest it?) because
it’s the only other TUNA brand I’ve ever seen.
I’m worried
it’s over farmed so I always want to buy the fair-trade– banana equivalent- you
know the type where the fish was happy to die, the farmer asked it’s family if
it was okay to take granddad and they were like yeah go for it.
The only
thing that confuses me somewhat is the dolphin friendly bit. What, did the
dolphin also give consent for the murder of granddad tuna fish? Or are the
dolphins just happy knowing that it’s the tuna for the chop and not them? Of
course it’s dolphin friendly, the dolphins couldn’t give a shit as long as it’s
not them mashed up in a can. I bet the dolphins are fucking ecstatic. It should
be ‘Dolphin’s Throwing a House Party’ tuna.
If I was a
dolphin on the board of British food labeling, I’d be like ‘yeah, the
crabs and the cod are pretty stoked too. Take all the fucking tuna you
want and TELL THE PEOPLE of Britain how delighted the rest of the gang are.’
So this is
totally gross but I had a weird mark on my back chopped off a few weeks back,
then on Friday I had the stitches removed. I know it’s minging, but I initially
started writing this damn blog so I could remember what I did day to day. But you
guys, it’s kind of cool because I’ve been having lots of anxiety problems
lately (or ‘Wizard Angst’ as Sarah likes to call it) and I felt like a fucking
Storm Trooper as I left the Doc’s, just having a big ol’ needle of anesthetic
shoved in my back, without any Wizard Angst at all. I genuinely had a mini
panic attack in a magazine shop the other day. Whilst my brain was preparing
itself for the imminent death-by-Cosmo, I was like ‘wtf brain, you’ve had minor
surgery, yet it’s the magazines that make you freak out.’ Humans are weird.
I wrote a
new article for The Debrief about my favourite lipstick in the whole world. You
should READ IT HERE then message me telling me how witty I am and how my turn of
phrase is hilarious.
I flew to
Dad’s this weekend from Stansted airport. I had a coffee from Harris and Hoole.
It was ridiculously good. I’ve never seen that brand before so it might just be
in Stansted airport.
Oh also,
let’s cut back to last week’s post. Remember I mentioned a certain Nathan that
cancelled on me? Well HAHA because he did it again on Friday night. But ‘he’s
super busy and ever so sorry’, so we shan’t be annoyed, because we’re grown up.
Isn’t that right Jennifer?
And maybe
it’s for the best- I had to get a taxi at 4am on Saturday morning. The taxi
driver kept talking to me the whole way there. And I fell asleep sideways, so
cut off all the circulation to my legs which resulted in exiting the taxi like
Bambi on crack.
Had a
fan-girl moment this week, Emma Gannon who writes the blog called, ‘Girl Lost in the City’,
tweeted about my blog. Hehehehahahahohooo.
Future
life- going to the Grump club with Gerry and CA soon to talk about life things.
Gina and I
had a rather impromptu night on the tiles/ Soho cocktails on Thursday with
Royce. Hey Royce. We got Subways and then I made Ovaltine (obvious drunk snack)
but because I was wasted, I tripped on the stairs and sloshed it all over
myself and woke up smelling like yeasty milk.
Cool man.
Oh and today’s picture is one I just took as I post this
out. My Dad wants to go to TK Maxx, and I’m like, Daaaaad whyyyyyyyythat’s FINE
I’m 24 let’s gooooooo.
6.01pm. The Boogaloo.
I’m sat here writing this post at the bar of The Boogaloo. I
just drank an almond milk coffee, and ate some peanut butter and banana on
toast. Very tempted to have a glass of wine.
It’s a bank holiday weekend! And when you’re 24, have a
pretty good social circle going on in London and you live above a pub, you know
a long weekend can only mean one thing- buying bedsheets from Argos.
I’m pretty chuffed because the checked print ones have gone
down to £10.50. I bought a florescent bottom sheet because I though it would
look kitsch it doesn’t it looks worse than my room at uni now and smells just
as bad because Hutch (my cat) has a kidney infection and has wee’d everywhere.
Oh life.
I thought my sheets smelled a bit buttery too. It’s the only
way I could explain it, just a strong hum of a butter. Then I remembered that I
ate buttery toast when I got home hammered on Friday, the toast and butter went
mainly on my bed, and there you have it.
This week has been bloody mental at work- if it wasn’t for
NON DISCLOSURE I would tell y’all about it, but I can’t so I won’t but for
you’re (I’m talking to my future self now) reference dear penny, it’s the one
about the teeth, kay?
It’s Nottinghill carnival today, but I totes CBA 2BH. I
might go tomorrow with Yogi. It’s kind of gloomy outside and I found the whole
experience a tad underwhelming last year. I know that’s a proper party pooper
thing to say, but hey they’re my feelings to feel.
I’ve just been joined by a glass of wine. Hello wine. Hello
Jenn. How are you? All the better for seeing you. Ah, you’re writing your blog,
I like your blog. I like you red wine.
Now feeling slightly on edge because a few babies have
joined me. I’m not joking there’s three small humans by my side.
Work’s still gong well- Gina and Jord are gonna paint the
upstairs floor for a bit of dollar. I had to use my cunning to convince Andrew
this was a good idea. Also, sidenote- Andrew is slowly making his way to one of
my favourite people, like ever. I used to think he was rude. I still think he’s
rude but it’s too funny to not enjoy it. He’s also my managing director, so
that’s kind of cool.
I’m off to see father Crothers next weekend. He’s not a
vicar, it’s my dad. I actually think most of my blog posts would be 99% shorter
if I just said what I mean and didn’t say things like, ‘Oh the bumble bees
aren’t on their holidays are they BY THAT I MEAN the sun’s got his hat on, oh
it’s just a nice day here in London…’ Jenn, STFU seriously.
But I shan’t so let’s carry on.
Facebook just reminded me that it was someone’s birthday so
I unfriended them.
A new girl at work just started called Kate. She’s a social
media ninja woman and we had drinks on Friday to welcome her. We got an email
from Andrew on Saturday explaining that it was absolutely not okay for a bunch
of adults to get hammered then tramp chocolate brownies all over the office.
Woops.
After we trod brownies everywhere, me and G went to see
Gerry at the Grump Club. It was also the Toast of London wrap party. I should
have enjoyed it but I was balls deep in gin by this point so I don’t remember
much.
This weekend is all about sorting FUTURE JENN out. Not like
get a bunker incase WW3 happens, I mean like making my blog a mind-bending
experience (new header photo) and buy some Business cards. Actually yes there’s
a funny story in that- I tried to buy some cards from Moo last night (business
card shop) and when it came to filling in my job title I couldn’t do it. I
can’t fucking explain what I do. I tried to say I was, ‘Creative do-er of
things’, but I just sounded like I am unemployed and a bit of a bender.
Oh also, very nearly went on a Tinder date this weekend, but
in one of his pictures it looks like he’s chopping wood and something about the
axe put me off. I still might, but I’ll have to let you know if this happens. Or maybe I won’t be able to because he thought I was a tree and cut my head off.
Talking of MEN, a certain MAN… let’s call him Nathan… wanted
to go for a drink with me this week twice and then cancelled twice. Fuck you
Nathan (he will literally never see this so we can totally say fuck you
Nathan.)
This might be over-share but my family are convinced I’m a
lesbian, so with some luck they’ll read this (who am I kidding) and realise I’m
not gay, men just find me really annoying.
All in all, I haven’t boozed other than right this second
and on Friday, so I’m feeling chipper, I might have a whisky, spice up your
life, people of the world.
Well done Crothy, you’re really nailing life.
6.23pm. London.
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 products.
tears
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 so tired. It’s a combination of smacking my pitch up at
work, and going to Dublin last weekend.
My bloody flight was delayed by an hour
which had a horrible knock-on effect which resulted in me, looking and feeling like Avril Lavigne in one of
her more ‘I’m alone and it’s raining’ type music videos (the kind you watch
when you need inspiration to make yourself cry (or perhaps not if you’re not a
robot like me)) Where was I? Oh yes, Easyjet fucked it up therefore I became
Avril Lavigne, waiting at a bus stop at bloody flippin’ dickin’ Finsbury Park.
Note- the 43 DOES NOT pick up from Liverpool Street. You may only alight here. Side
note- ‘alight’ is one of my most favourite words. The lady’s voice on the
tannoy (tannoy is not a word apparently) always assumes you’re part of the
royal ballet and are about to gently, oh so lightly, step off the underground. Sure-footed,
with a bonnet on yer’ head. When in reality you burst out of the doors,
desperately trying to not fall in to the DEATH GAP. Jeese. So yeah, I’m tired.
My birthday
is on the 9th of July. Which is kind of exciting but
also a bit like, ‘oh shit, I’ll be 24’… which if you’re reading this and you’re
older than that, you’ll be like, ‘shut the fuck up.’ BUT HEY. Didn’t you also
feel the same at 24? I was supposed to have a boyfriend and a horse by now.
Last time I
BLOGGED was THREE WEEKS AGO. That’s shoddy. Sorry. Sorry for being shoddy.
Fucking right I need a coffee.
I’ve
started eating Rivitas with cottage cheese, tomato and balsamic vinegar glaze.
This recipe is actual proof that sometimes, you CAN polish a turd.
I went to
Dublin for Strawb’s birthday. Every time I go to Dublin I have every good
intention of SEEING DUBLIN, then end up in some weird village miles from where
I should be. The same thing happened again and I went to freaking Kildare.
Although, Kildare was freaking good- I saw Tod sing a song called, ‘Mind
Yourself’, and MJ managed to hitchhike from about two hours away using a
cardboard sign with all the different stops.
I bought
tickets to Budapest in August accidentally when I was ONE PINT DRUNK- I can’t
exaggerate here, I literally had one pint then felt really giddy and booked it.
I’m glad though. Gonna try convince Mum and Dad to buy me the festival ticket
for my birthday, then I’m gonna try sell my kidney for spending money. Fun fun.
Talking of
making money, I’ve put loads of my clothes on eBay. I can’t say I’m surprised
that nothing’s sold yet- the crock of shit that I’ve put up for auction is
quite embarrassing. Do you ever buy something and think, ‘yes, this is quite
nice. It’s a bit whacky, but I’ll make it work.’ Well, I’ve included one
perfect deluded example up there ^ alongside what I was intending the dress to
make me look like. Fuck-you-very-much reality.
Sticky Fingers
cancelled their gig a few weeks back which was pants, but what can ya do? They’ve
rescheduled for November, so everyone just stay calm.
I’ve been
wanting to try to products from a shop called LUSH for ages, so on me lunch
break I bought some BLUE FACEMASK and some bloody BANANA SHAMPOO and then
ANOTHER FREAKIN FACE MASK and FOR SOME REASON SOME FACE SERUM. Probably shouldn’t have that gone gun-ho But hey, I’m a girl and the packaging was really
nice and the lady said I good skin AND I’M WEAK. Anyhoo, I’ve shoved a piccie
of my moon-face covered in the wonderful blue goo.
I was meant
to go to yoga with JP today, but last night I joined a merry band of Aussie
Rules players to a bowling alley, therefore got completely inebriated. Instead
of yoga, I shall be doing my own form of exercise called, ‘downward facing
roast dinner.’
My cat got
stuck in the fridge this week (I live in a pub, it was one of those huge cold
rooms). She was there for hours so then spent the following night warming her
arse on my face. Cute.
I’m just
having some quality time today with my panda collection- someone stole Kim, but
I still have Kourtney, Khloe and Kendall. I’m also wearing my favourite
T-Shirt, which I bought in NYC recently for $3.
Ok so I
decided to take notes throughout the week so that when I come to write this
drivel, it’s a lot easier to pour my heart out, rather than tappety type myself
into a world wind of bollocks. Here are the notes that are gonna knock JK
Rowling off the top spot as one of the world’s famous writers:
Buzzy Bee
Mints
Asshole
song
Miles threw
up
So there
you have it guys, I truly do live life to the max. Actually, the only note that
makes my brain think it doesn’t know what to think is the ‘mints’ bit. I do
like a good mint, but I haven’t been to any chinese restaurants recently so I’m
not sure what that is referring to.
I went to
Norwich a couple of weekends ago. I went through a phrase where going home was
such a drag, but I’ve reached a turning point where I find myself tearing up as
my mum gives me a fiver at the train station and I make my journey back to
London.
I bought
the bizzy buzzy bumbles game for work. It’s an intimate affair, involving
magnetic plastic bumble bees and little balls of pollen. My life has come full
circle where Hasbro and Smirnoff have joined up. I also bought Kuplunk
(Kudrunk) and Buckaroo (I thought fuckaroo sounded funny, but it sounds way
more kinky than I intended, so it’ll have to be ‘Buckaroo and Vodka’). All of
this hilarity comes after my boss appointed me, ‘Director of Fun’, which
involves enticing colleagues out for a midweek pint. Needless to say I’m
excelling myself.
What else
was on ma list? ‘Asshole song’- I went to see STEVIE MARTIN’S BOYFRIEND’S (girl
knows how to puncuate fo’ real) comedy show at the Udder Belly. Their sketch
group is called, Wit Tank. It was really funny. I ate a bunch of salty nuts
that evening too, which erked me (erked? Is that right?) because they were
£2.50 and I wish now that I had saved some for a snack. Poiint being, we all started
chanting ASSHOLE to a rather catchy and rhythmic beat.
So aside
from the greatest mystery of our time about THE MINTS, I guess that’s all the
hullaboo for you, for now.
I went to
the Grump Club with ‘Ed The Second’, and his friend John, on Thursday. We
started at the French House, which is one of my most favourite bars in Soho. It
only serves half pints, and the lady who works at Gerry’s bar works there too.
On Sunday I
spent the day with JP. We had dinner and drinks and then went to see, ‘Mad Max’,
which is a really confusing film if you have zero context beforehand. It was
cool though and reminded me that I really fancy Tom Hardy. I ate way too many Rolos.
I dumped the left over sweets on my fireplace, and then finished them off for
breakfast.
Things I am
thinking about:
The
weekend. Mainly because YOLO but also because I’m excited about seeing THE BAND
CALLED, ‘Sticky Fingers’. They’re so good and Gina and I whole heartedly agreed
that we don’t want them to release anymore music because we wouldn’t be able to
handle the AWESOMNESS. Other things… lemme rattle my head… I’m going to buy
some posh peanut butter tomorrow because I just ran out of cheap stuff. This is
a long time coming and breakfasts are being taken to the NEXT LEVEL. Oh, I
booked to go to Paris to see Claws and Ali AND I had a dream that I won
festival tickets to go see Artic Monkeys and then I got told I had to snog a
girl on the back of a bus if I wanted to win and it really freaked me out so I
woke up and went to work.
Well, that’s
over and OUT for now my little snuppet puppets, I leave you while I go watch
SATC, whilst I’m eating a piece of egg on a bread.
Dear diary,
I’m scared that I might be overachieving.
On Monday morning I woke up at
6.30 and went to the gym- something I thought was physically impossible. I only normally get out of bed for bacon or the fact I’d be fired otherwise… or if I really need a wee. I managed this feat by motivating myself with some ‘get up and go get ‘em’ words on my alarm. See picture 5).
In other news, I’m worried about Gina. The other day she just whisipered
‘Jenn’, with a big grin on her face whilst holding a big tub of peanut butter.
I’ll speak to her at lunch to make sure she’s 100% ticketyboo (as if
‘ticketyboo’ comes up as a spelling mistake. It clearly means a ghost that’s inside a clock for so long instead of saying boo it says tick… a ticketyboo.) Also, the other day, we went for pasta at a pasta place (I know, fucking crazy right) and there was a little pot of olive oil, which
is fine, but there was also a little red
pot of paraffin wax that Gina decided was chilli oil and dipped her bread into.
So we had a bit of a scary moment when we thought Gina might die, but it was ALL
FINE in the end but she did essentially eat paraffin.
I’m in love with Mark Ruffalo. He keeps tweeting about world
politics and I don’t understand it, which makes me sad because it feels like
we’d never get along if we dated. That, and the fact he’s married with kids.
But seriously, the twitter bit is bumming me out. I decided about my new found love after
watching, ‘Begin Again’, which is a really good movie but mainly because
Ruffalo is a really good hottie babe actor man.
I might go to Norwich this weekend. It’s my friend Josh’s
leaving do and to be honest it’s a great excuse to go av it large in N town. I
might see Ellie. She’s quite small and quite nice.
Couple of things I need to put in here but shall gloss over
because I don’t want anyone to worry but I need to remember they happened for
my future self:
–
Random vodka on bus with famalam
–
Man called Paris might be a church cult
Went to the Grump club on Sat eve with Irish. We drove over
in his new Merc, because Irish doesn’t drink. Jenn does though. Jenn loves a
drink. She/I had a few glasses of wine, perved on a few hotties, and bumped
into my radio love, Tasty Lopez. She’s a total babe and you can listen to her
sexy voice here kiddos:
http://www.sohoradiolondon.com/member/tasty-lopez
We also meant this crazy lady called Natalie from Glasgow. She’s
now our friend and Irish is having dinner with her next week.
On Sunday I slept the entire day. I was kind of in and out
of consciousness but it was soooooo nice because I had the window open and the
cold air made me feel like I was camping in my little bed- although I woke up
at 8pm, which meant I missed the laundrette, WHICH MEANS THAT I didn’t have any
clean undies and no I’m not being dramatic- I had to wash a few pairs in the
shower and the heating wasn’t working so they weren’t really very dry and so I
sat at work with a really cold arse.
Last Thursday we went to the Shaston arms with work and
played touch the cup and I dropped the cup(s) because when I get drunk I loose
control of my limbs.
Mum came to visit last weekend. That’s kind of what pictures 2, 3 and 5 are about. We drank £5.50 hot
chocolates and went to a rooftop bar called Sushi Samba and ate in the Tramshed
and bought vintage clothes and it was good and I miss her.
Last Friday I went to a Britney night. Gina looked like
Britney which was weird but she looked well cool. I got really drunk and that’s when
the buses happened. I got back to the pub and there was a lock in so I drank
more which was a bad idea to be honest with you.
Last night, Gina and I were sent to a health food taster
thing for work (see picture 6). Ok, need to drop in here that I (for some reason) thought it
was a 15 dish pizza tasting thing. The most ridiculous thing about this is that
I was fully geared up to eat 15 pizzas. I would have fucking died. Anyways, it
was SAH GURD and was it was all like meat and rice and stuff and I enjoyed myself to the
point that I had like 4 different types of food mushing around in and around my mouth at all once. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even breathe whilst chowing down on some sweet
falaff. Gina and I had been to the gym and hadn’t drank water OR had dinner, so
after approx 1.5 glasses of wine I was feeling a bit out of sorts and decided to start talking loudly, in a silent dining room with around 15 people. Gina
was explaining how she needed to get home to moisturise, but I misheard her and
yelled, ‘CREAM YOUR BUTTCHEEKS?’.
I can’t pretend that my blog hasn’t exploded into some kind
of fountain of awesomeness. Gina did this. You know like on Miley Cyrus’ videos
at the end it says, ‘Mike Will Made This’? Well I should sign off with, ‘Gina
Martin Made This Gif and I Chose The Background On Google Images But Struggled
To Find a High Res One That Wasn’t Copywrited.’
Stevie put me in contact with a human that I want
to be. Instead I’ll settle for a coffee with her, but 100 million percent check her out
her shitttttt because I like it and we’ve all gotta like what I like. Ammmahhreieeeeight?
READ READ READ PUT IT INTO YOUR BRAIN:
PS- The very first picture is me, enjoying some lentils, right now, while I wonder about the cosmos.
Inside The Mind of Jenn 