Every Wednesday at work we have these lunch time sessions called, ‘Binge’, which means we get someone in to do a talk about something. It was Steve’s talk on Wednesday (head of digital, works opp. me). It was all about the History of online advertising and twas very interesting. I’m saying all of this because I want to document the fact that I do all the write ups for Binge. (When I say all, i’m exaggerating and so far i’ve written like half of one).

On Tuesday Jack and I went to Jo’s cookhouse, which is like Nando’s but 81903821 times better and they serve your food in baking trays. I’m one of those people who get drawn in by stuff like that. You know when you get served burger and chips on a chunk of wood and you dunno if it’s socially acceptable to squish out Ketchup onto it? Two reasons- first one being that it’s a known fact that wood holds shit loads of bacteria and secondly when I was growing up Kirsten (Krizzle, Kroth, K-dog) and I used to do all the washing up and my mother dearest used to get so annoyed if we put the wooden spoon in the dish washer OR washed it manually and tried to dry it, as it holds water and therefor must be left to dry out. I mean for the sake of a trendy burger, I don’t think serving food on wooden boards that have to be cleaned rigourously is really worth it? What do you think? Post all questions and comments in the usual box, ‘What usual box Jenn I didn’t know I could do this,’ (said the second voice in my head). Well i’m lyin to ya, there’s no darn box. Maybe i’ll start that as my next step up as a blogger. Although i’m more likely to get questions like, ‘are you ok?’, ‘i’m worried you’re taking drugs,’ or, ‘answer your phone love mum xxxx’ Maybe I won’t put a question box on my site after all and will have to suffer in a quandary of silence as I contemplate what kind of cleaning utensil the pot washer uses as Byron Burger, Honest Burger, Dirty Burger and all those slab of wood type places.

Talking of boxes, let’s take our blog journey to the depths of the music world… ohhh ahhh and picture this, Felix from accounts, playing the box, at the Boogaloo. If you can’t imagine it, it is because of two reasons. 1. you don’t know Felix 2. you know Felix and you can’t fathom him sat on a box like miss muffet on her musical tuffet. Well it happened kiddos, and it was great. Well done Felix, you can take Gina and I out for Breakfast now like you begged us this morning. 

I wrote that quite a few days ago now^ Gina said, ‘Jenn, you’re not leaving work until you’ve written your blog.’ But I did leave, and we went to the gym and now we’re sitting at Tottenham Court Road station waiting to go home. 10pm and my bum hurts (from squatting and lunging and rolling around the ‘aerobics’ laughing as Gina and I fall off those massive exercise bouncy balls (they probably have a technical name but who cares.)

Soooo if I wrote about all the happenings then I would be sad because I wouldn’t remember them all, so let’s consult the Oracle (Gina)

-Jordy left (we made breakfast in the snug as a special treat) and Gina was very sad so I made her a scap book documenting her rise and fall and her magic unicorn prospects

-I went to Northern Ireland and saw my family

-I came home to London and saw my Irish friends Strawbs and Eanna et al. We danced to Motown then I got thrown in a bin then woke up in a motel. 

-We’re writing scripts for Keith Lemon

-We went to a networking event for students at Graphic Bar in Soho (see Pic no. 1), from Buck’s Uni and scouted two little gembob moonshine cats called Soph and Soph. Holla girlfriends.

-I highlighted my hair and it’s definitely gold coloured, but not in a fun way.

-Gina and I went to the Groucho (see picture 2) and I told Jamie Hince that I had a sore bum from sitting down too long. He told me he had just been to a funeral. I doubt I was the ‘cheery gal pal’ he was looking for. Then we ate ice-cream and brownies and stared at Noel Fielding. I stopped myself from telling Julian McDonald exactly what I thought of his Debenham’s dresses and managed to keep it together when I saw Brody from Homeland.

-I endured a horrific ordeal whereby I bought gherkins because I quite fancied some and as I left Tesco I thought I’d have a sneaky snack for the journey, prised the lid off with full force and launched a gherkin at an unsuspecting man. And that’s not even the worst of it-  once I managed to eat one, they were disgusting, and now wander lonely as a pickle cloud in the kitchen near the account guys. Sometimes I see my reflection in their briny glare and I feel sad for them.

-We have approx. £0 between us yet decided to go to Primark at 9am and buy clothes, including a snood for Gina

-We got offered another placement in Shoreditch but also offered a maybe-job at the Minimart

-We bumped into the guy we auditioned for our commercial in Costa and now we’re buddies. Hiya

-I ate chinese food and regretted it

-We (lots of We’s- by We I mean Gina and I) saw Dec then hung out with him and Ali in Clapham

-We got three buses home and I think i’ve fully nailed the bus system in London. I felt like Gandalf the White, back from the dead, leading my little hobbits to safety (Gina is the little hobbits (that’s not very good English but I’m a crazy writer gal)).

-We put up a wall hanging in our bedroom (it fell down on me in my sleep and I woke up in a bed of pins)

-Stevie joined the gym with us- hurrah!

-We went to M&S with Sam (office manager but really an account extraordinaire) and bought every packet of pancakes then had a pancake party.

-Nikki invited us all to cocktails and a secret surprise party on Thursday

It’s now Wednesday.

Today was really quite good- three of our print ideas went forward for a campaign, I Skyped Noodles and maybe will now potentially not deffo sure yet might go to Australia for a couple of weeks. I’m going to Dublin next week hurrah! I ate fancy Tesco soup for lunch with Irish soda bread. Gina and I have noticed we go through food phases, peanut butter is the only one that’s really stuck around to be honest.

It’s Thursday (see pic no. 3. My hair is so blonde it’s kinda evaporating) now bye. 

Every Wednesday at work we have these lunch time sessions called, ‘Binge’, which means we get someone in to do a talk about something. It was Steve’s talk on Wednesday (head of digital, works opp. me). It was all about the History of online advertising and twas very interesting. I’m saying all of this because I want to document the fact that I do all the write ups for Binge. (When I say all, i’m exaggerating and so far i’ve written like half of one).

On Tuesday Jack and I went to Jo’s cookhouse, which is like Nando’s but 81903821 times better and they serve your food in baking trays. I’m one of those people who get drawn in by stuff like that. You know when you get served burger and chips on a chunk of wood and you dunno if it’s socially acceptable to squish out Ketchup onto it? Two reasons- first one being that it’s a known fact that wood holds shit loads of bacteria and secondly when I was growing up Kirsten (Krizzle, Kroth, K-dog) and I used to do all the washing up and my mother dearest used to get so annoyed if we put the wooden spoon in the dish washer OR washed it manually and tried to dry it, as it holds water and therefor must be left to dry out. I mean for the sake of a trendy burger, I don’t think serving food on wooden boards that have to be cleaned rigourously is really worth it? What do you think? Post all questions and comments in the usual box, ‘What usual box Jenn I didn’t know I could do this,’ (said the second voice in my head). Well i’m lyin to ya, there’s no darn box. Maybe i’ll start that as my next step up as a blogger. Although i’m more likely to get questions like, ‘are you ok?’, ‘i’m worried you’re taking drugs,’ or, ‘answer your phone love mum xxxx’ Maybe I won’t put a question box on my site after all and will have to suffer in a quandary of silence as I contemplate what kind of cleaning utensil the pot washer uses as Byron Burger, Honest Burger, Dirty Burger and all those slab of wood type places.

Talking of boxes, let’s take our blog journey to the depths of the music world… ohhh ahhh and picture this, Felix from accounts, playing the box, at the Boogaloo. If you can’t imagine it, it is because of two reasons. 1. you don’t know Felix 2. you know Felix and you can’t fathom him sat on a box like miss muffet on her musical tuffet. Well it happened kiddos, and it was great. Well done Felix, you can take Gina and I out for Breakfast now like you begged us this morning. 

I wrote that quite a few days ago now^ Gina said, ‘Jenn, you’re not leaving work until you’ve written your blog.’ But I did leave, and we went to the gym and now we’re sitting at Tottenham Court Road station waiting to go home. 10pm and my bum hurts (from squatting and lunging and rolling around the ‘aerobics’ laughing as Gina and I fall off those massive exercise bouncy balls (they probably have a technical name but who cares.)

Soooo if I wrote about all the happenings then I would be sad because I wouldn’t remember them all, so let’s consult the Oracle (Gina)

-Jordy left (we made breakfast in the snug as a special treat) and Gina was very sad so I made her a scap book documenting her rise and fall and her magic unicorn prospects

-I went to Northern Ireland and saw my family

-I came home to London and saw my Irish friends Strawbs and Eanna et al. We danced to Motown then I got thrown in a bin then woke up in a motel. 

-We’re writing scripts for Keith Lemon

-We went to a networking event for students at Graphic Bar in Soho (see Pic no. 1), from Buck’s Uni and scouted two little gembob moonshine cats called Soph and Soph. Holla girlfriends.

-I highlighted my hair and it’s definitely gold coloured, but not in a fun way.

-Gina and I went to the Groucho (see picture 2) and I told Jamie Hince that I had a sore bum from sitting down too long. He told me he had just been to a funeral. I doubt I was the ‘cheery gal pal’ he was looking for. Then we ate ice-cream and brownies and stared at Noel Fielding. I stopped myself from telling Julian McDonald exactly what I thought of his Debenham’s dresses and managed to keep it together when I saw Brody from Homeland.

-I endured a horrific ordeal whereby I bought gherkins because I quite fancied some and as I left Tesco I thought I’d have a sneaky snack for the journey, prised the lid off with full force and launched a gherkin at an unsuspecting man. And that’s not even the worst of it-  once I managed to eat one, they were disgusting, and now wander lonely as a pickle cloud in the kitchen near the account guys. Sometimes I see my reflection in their briny glare and I feel sad for them.

-We have approx. £0 between us yet decided to go to Primark at 9am and buy clothes, including a snood for Gina

-We got offered another placement in Shoreditch but also offered a maybe-job at the Minimart

-We bumped into the guy we auditioned for our commercial in Costa and now we’re buddies. Hiya

-I ate chinese food and regretted it

-We (lots of We’s- by We I mean Gina and I) saw Dec then hung out with him and Ali in Clapham

-We got three buses home and I think i’ve fully nailed the bus system in London. I felt like Gandalf the White, back from the dead, leading my little hobbits to safety (Gina is the little hobbits (that’s not very good English but I’m a crazy writer gal)).

-We put up a wall hanging in our bedroom (it fell down on me in my sleep and I woke up in a bed of pins)

-Stevie joined the gym with us- hurrah!

-We went to M&S with Sam (office manager but really an account extraordinaire) and bought every packet of pancakes then had a pancake party.

-Nikki invited us all to cocktails and a secret surprise party on Thursday

It’s now Wednesday.

Today was really quite good- three of our print ideas went forward for a campaign, I Skyped Noodles and maybe will now potentially not deffo sure yet might go to Australia for a couple of weeks. I’m going to Dublin next week hurrah! I ate fancy Tesco soup for lunch with Irish soda bread. Gina and I have noticed we go through food phases, peanut butter is the only one that’s really stuck around to be honest.

It’s Thursday (see pic no. 3. My hair is so blonde it’s kinda evaporating) now bye. 

Ok I need to get two things out of the way in this post- firstly an apology to those who were waiting with baited breath, rang into work pretending to be sick and may have had panic attacks due to the tardiness of this latest blog post. But here we go…

Second of all, my phone’s been ringing off the hook about the highly confusing ‘yoghurt raisin’ reference in the last post. I may have dubbed them chocolate by accident, but they were, to officially confirm, ‘yoghurt raisins’. I use the term, ‘yoghurt’ lightly here as they did not do the dairy delicious creaminess of yoghurt justice- it was more in- fact a hardened, slightly stale, thick sugary coating. But anyway, I digress (which rarely happens in my succinct and jaunty blog posts), I’m glad I got these matters cleared up.

Actually, bugger to digressing- I digress further (I like this word digress (can’t tell))… the word sounds like dissecting and undressing and that now may have connotations of murder, woopsidaisie.)

So I write this with sore fingers I those who know me best will know that although Taylor Swift may have a point about being jolly at the age of 22, but I still bite my nails, and after an intense episode of Breaking Bad, my poor thumb looks like a bald man. Called Terry. I’m trying to counteract with this some Bjork- so far, so good. I mean really good. Y’all can keep your lady Gagas- Bjork really had it down. Very vibey. 

I rememberd Gina’s wonderful mumma, Margie brought us an electric blanket to our humble abode once upon a time, so now as I lay here in bed and bake my arse, I feel very cosy indeed, helped along by the pitter patter of rain on my window. Irish has bought me some lovely new curtains for my room, but I open them just before I go to bed. I like the noise and the dim glow of street lights outside. I won’t even try and claim, ‘the dim glow of street lights’- it’s a wonderful sentence that I think I’ve read in a thousand story books before, but even so, you get where i’m at right now. Warm butt, Bjork, and warm glows. I also feel very safe with the curtains open. If you look hard enough you can see Tottenham Court road from my window. It’s quite a reassuring feeling being at the centre of the capital of the country that I love so. I mean good thing too, you can’t bloody see any stars outside my window as the light pollution and smog ruins that. 

 My last blog post ended with me travelling to London to, ‘bring the new year in,’ as though a band of merry croth fans were waiting for me to announce the new year had started. Well, I got into Liverpool street, and I don’t mean to sound like a pretentious buffoon (I do really, I want you all to think my writing is an easy balance of profound and total crap) but the atmosphere in London really is electric on new years eve. I got the underground back to the Boogaloo, knowing there’d be a reddish glow coming from the building, faint chants of people warming up their souls on local ales and thin wafts of kebabs starting to snake along the street. Well turns out, the pub wasn’t opening until 8pm, so muggins here rocked up by herself, suitcase and armfuls of bags of presents, to a Highgate pissing it down with rain, gale force winds, and not a person in sight. Luckily, one of the lovely bar ladies just frantically turned up for work and we dashed inside. I also dashed back outside to buy a glass of wine, meal for 1 (don’t laugh) and a garlic bread. So do the math- I got wasted by myself, dressed up, and passed out about 11.50pm. So much for bringing the sodding new year in.

Since then not a whole lot has happened. Started back at work. Been working out each morning. Booked flights to see my family in Northern Ireland in February which will be fun/ interesting. My poor Dad, last time I went I got a triangle tattoo- I think he’s worried I’m joining the illuminati. 

Works going really well- although I’ve taken leave of my senses by which I mean I’ve forgotten i’m poor and have started eating at fancy organic joints in Soho. Damn it Jenn. Get back to your Tesco soup. No I shan’t I like gluten free bread on a bed of low GI rice and vegetable Thai Curry. NO YOU DON’T JENN YOU LIKE BACON SANDWICHES AND PRIMARK TIGHTS. Jeese, alright. 

Photo time (everyone’s favourite part of the blog). First one I found on my desk top by accident- I think I might have screen shotted it. I love it when people give their wifi addresses a ridiculous name. Good on ya. Second photo is a screen shot of my tabs when I got ready and drunk on new years eve by myself- it’s sad to say that I was having a really good dance and drink, see picture number three for full selfie. Picture four is of me going to work yesterday. I thought was outfit was great then got to work and thought, ‘I look weird and like I’ve literally thrown on the only clean clothes I own, when in actual fact I tried really hard. Note to self- stop trying to spice up your outfits.’ Pic number 5 is obviously of Gina and I. We decided to make her look like a man as a later afternoon activity, and looky here, she’s being abusive. Last up this is me currently, looking shiny yet happy due to the fact I’ve lost my regular moisturiser and have slapped on some body oil but it’s ok because tomorrow is a new day and I have no idea what to expect other than I will brush my teeth twice, shower once and see Gina. Unless Gina quits work, my toothbrush runs away on it’s little bristle legs and it rains… poo… meaning i’d need another shower and maybe therapy. 

It was nice to go back on a Thursday- and I would predict 99% of people at work that day said something to the effect of, ‘yeah it’s a nice way to ease yourself back into the working life’ WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU’VE BEEN AWAY FOR 1 WEEK MAXIMUM. Anyway, I was one of those people.

I caught up with my friend Jack at the weekend, we named a lot of pidgins and fed them mouldy bread. We went for pizza, then bought 5 boxes of fajitas and a scratch card then did some song writing. If he becomes famous before me, I hereby claim to be the inspiration for the song about yesterday’s gin. We drank a lot of gin.

Oh I got a kindle for christmas and I’m reading Game of Thrones. It’s amazing and I’ve a lot of time for Tyrion.

I keep meaning to meet up with Hazel and Lex for a coffee. They work near me and I’m very proud of them. 

I think plans for this week include going out for supper, writing A LOT more and finishing breaking bad once and for all.

Immediate plans definitely involve turning off the electric blanket. I think my feet are sweating slightly. On that note, let’s sight off on a little poem I just bliggled (bliggled is one of my new words- it means to write really fast that you don’t recognise your own writing when you look back at it, ‘it’s all bliggled’, ‘is this yours? it doesn’t look like my own writing, unless it’s bliggled.’).

We look and we listen

To one another

And it’s a given

That some of us are crazy

But I’d rather you

Joined in than try to save me

You see writing my blog

Steers my mind

Out of the grey fog.

 

 

Ok I need to get two things out of the way in this post- firstly an apology to those who were waiting with baited breath, rang into work pretending to be sick and may have had panic attacks due to the tardiness of this latest blog post. But here we go…

Second of all, my phone’s been ringing off the hook about the highly confusing ‘yoghurt raisin’ reference in the last post. I may have dubbed them chocolate by accident, but they were, to officially confirm, ‘yoghurt raisins’. I use the term, ‘yoghurt’ lightly here as they did not do the dairy delicious creaminess of yoghurt justice- it was more in- fact a hardened, slightly stale, thick sugary coating. But anyway, I digress (which rarely happens in my succinct and jaunty blog posts), I’m glad I got these matters cleared up.

Actually, bugger to digressing- I digress further (I like this word digress (can’t tell))… the word sounds like dissecting and undressing and that now may have connotations of murder, woopsidaisie.)

So I write this with sore fingers I those who know me best will know that although Taylor Swift may have a point about being jolly at the age of 22, but I still bite my nails, and after an intense episode of Breaking Bad, my poor thumb looks like a bald man. Called Terry. I’m trying to counteract with this some Bjork- so far, so good. I mean really good. Y’all can keep your lady Gagas- Bjork really had it down. Very vibey. 

I rememberd Gina’s wonderful mumma, Margie brought us an electric blanket to our humble abode once upon a time, so now as I lay here in bed and bake my arse, I feel very cosy indeed, helped along by the pitter patter of rain on my window. Irish has bought me some lovely new curtains for my room, but I open them just before I go to bed. I like the noise and the dim glow of street lights outside. I won’t even try and claim, ‘the dim glow of street lights’- it’s a wonderful sentence that I think I’ve read in a thousand story books before, but even so, you get where i’m at right now. Warm butt, Bjork, and warm glows. I also feel very safe with the curtains open. If you look hard enough you can see Tottenham Court road from my window. It’s quite a reassuring feeling being at the centre of the capital of the country that I love so. I mean good thing too, you can’t bloody see any stars outside my window as the light pollution and smog ruins that. 

 My last blog post ended with me travelling to London to, ‘bring the new year in,’ as though a band of merry croth fans were waiting for me to announce the new year had started. Well, I got into Liverpool street, and I don’t mean to sound like a pretentious buffoon (I do really, I want you all to think my writing is an easy balance of profound and total crap) but the atmosphere in London really is electric on new years eve. I got the underground back to the Boogaloo, knowing there’d be a reddish glow coming from the building, faint chants of people warming up their souls on local ales and thin wafts of kebabs starting to snake along the street. Well turns out, the pub wasn’t opening until 8pm, so muggins here rocked up by herself, suitcase and armfuls of bags of presents, to a Highgate pissing it down with rain, gale force winds, and not a person in sight. Luckily, one of the lovely bar ladies just frantically turned up for work and we dashed inside. I also dashed back outside to buy a glass of wine, meal for 1 (don’t laugh) and a garlic bread. So do the math- I got wasted by myself, dressed up, and passed out about 11.50pm. So much for bringing the sodding new year in.

Since then not a whole lot has happened. Started back at work. Been working out each morning. Booked flights to see my family in Northern Ireland in February which will be fun/ interesting. My poor Dad, last time I went I got a triangle tattoo- I think he’s worried I’m joining the illuminati. 

Works going really well- although I’ve taken leave of my senses by which I mean I’ve forgotten i’m poor and have started eating at fancy organic joints in Soho. Damn it Jenn. Get back to your Tesco soup. No I shan’t I like gluten free bread on a bed of low GI rice and vegetable Thai Curry. NO YOU DON’T JENN YOU LIKE BACON SANDWICHES AND PRIMARK TIGHTS. Jeese, alright. 

Photo time (everyone’s favourite part of the blog). First one I found on my desk top by accident- I think I might have screen shotted it. I love it when people give their wifi addresses a ridiculous name. Good on ya. Second photo is a screen shot of my tabs when I got ready and drunk on new years eve by myself- it’s sad to say that I was having a really good dance and drink, see picture number three for full selfie. Picture four is of me going to work yesterday. I thought was outfit was great then got to work and thought, ‘I look weird and like I’ve literally thrown on the only clean clothes I own, when in actual fact I tried really hard. Note to self- stop trying to spice up your outfits.’ Pic number 5 is obviously of Gina and I. We decided to make her look like a man as a later afternoon activity, and looky here, she’s being abusive. Last up this is me currently, looking shiny yet happy due to the fact I’ve lost my regular moisturiser and have slapped on some body oil but it’s ok because tomorrow is a new day and I have no idea what to expect other than I will brush my teeth twice, shower once and see Gina. Unless Gina quits work, my toothbrush runs away on it’s little bristle legs and it rains… poo… meaning i’d need another shower and maybe therapy. 

It was nice to go back on a Thursday- and I would predict 99% of people at work that day said something to the effect of, ‘yeah it’s a nice way to ease yourself back into the working life’ WHAT DO YOU MEAN? YOU’VE BEEN AWAY FOR 1 WEEK MAXIMUM. Anyway, I was one of those people.

I caught up with my friend Jack at the weekend, we named a lot of pidgins and fed them mouldy bread. We went for pizza, then bought 5 boxes of fajitas and a scratch card then did some song writing. If he becomes famous before me, I hereby claim to be the inspiration for the song about yesterday’s gin. We drank a lot of gin.

Oh I got a kindle for christmas and I’m reading Game of Thrones. It’s amazing and I’ve a lot of time for Tyrion.

I keep meaning to meet up with Hazel and Lex for a coffee. They work near me and I’m very proud of them. 

I think plans for this week include going out for supper, writing A LOT more and finishing breaking bad once and for all.

Immediate plans definitely involve turning off the electric blanket. I think my feet are sweating slightly. On that note, let’s sight off on a little poem I just bliggled (bliggled is one of my new words- it means to write really fast that you don’t recognise your own writing when you look back at it, ‘it’s all bliggled’, ‘is this yours? it doesn’t look like my own writing, unless it’s bliggled.’).

We look and we listen

To one another

And it’s a given

That some of us are crazy

But I’d rather you

Joined in than try to save me

You see writing my blog

Steers my mind

Out of the grey fog.