It’s also for ‘Asshole’, ‘Ailurophile’ (meaning ‘someone who likes cats’ - see ‘Asshole’), ’Amigo’ and ‘A-ha’.
Which is great.
Sunday Blues.
It's late on another Sunday night in London, and so begins my coy, ritualistic little dance with Monday morning. The dance is always way more Kirsty Alley on DWTS, than Step Up 3d, so it's safe to say that we have a love hate relationship; I love to hate Mondays.
I try to prolong their presence in my life by staying up as late as my face will allow before sleep inevitably gets me. It always ensures that I look my best at the beginning of the week (read: like I've gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson). It's really quite charming. However tonight, after a vigorous weekend of birthdays, shopping, eating, innumerable shots, some late night chicken romance, some lost glasses, some found friendships, I feel my sizable eyelids drooping already - which can't be right. It must be time to have a coffee.
I try to prolong their presence in my life by staying up as late as my face will allow before sleep inevitably gets me. It always ensures that I look my best at the beginning of the week (read: like I've gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson). It's really quite charming. However tonight, after a vigorous weekend of birthdays, shopping, eating, innumerable shots, some late night chicken romance, some lost glasses, some found friendships, I feel my sizable eyelids drooping already - which can't be right. It must be time to have a coffee.
Every great blog begins with one small...
... well, "quote" - if the ones I've been creepily stalking all night (to ensure this virgin pops her blog-cherry with style) are anything to go by. While my mama would probably prefer me to draw quotes from the libraries of Keats, Shakespeare and Wilde; my style instead lends itself more towards those of Young, Winehouse and Nicks.
Love them as I do, they all seem a bit angst-y, drug-addled and mellow-dramatic for this time of night, so instead I'm calling on one of my favourite movies of all time. Like a bedtime story for adults, even in my most inebriated stooper, I seem to be able to muster the dexterity to put this on, so I can drift off to the sleep (read: partial comatose state) to the dulcet tones of Mr Ron Burgundy.
"The following is based on actual events. Only the names, locations and events have been changed."
'Till next time x
P.S. I lied. I'm a semi-blog virgin (the "everything-but" blogger). I made out (and then some) with a blog one cold winter's night and then promptly lost interest. Ok, I didn't lose interest in blogging, more in my life/opinions/musings. Summer will be better. Oh you're in for a treat.
Love them as I do, they all seem a bit angst-y, drug-addled and mellow-dramatic for this time of night, so instead I'm calling on one of my favourite movies of all time. Like a bedtime story for adults, even in my most inebriated stooper, I seem to be able to muster the dexterity to put this on, so I can drift off to the sleep (read: partial comatose state) to the dulcet tones of Mr Ron Burgundy.
"The following is based on actual events. Only the names, locations and events have been changed."
'Till next time x
P.S. I lied. I'm a semi-blog virgin (the "everything-but" blogger). I made out (and then some) with a blog one cold winter's night and then promptly lost interest. Ok, I didn't lose interest in blogging, more in my life/opinions/musings. Summer will be better. Oh you're in for a treat.
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