Friday, October 19, 2012

I'm back!

Some things just have to be documented, otherwise people just wouldn't believe me.

Short story, long:

I was cleaning out my room, preparing for the the Big-Move-To-Brixton, and I discovered all this awesome stuff that I've squirreled away in my cubby hole – not the duct-taped cubby hole which I'm still convinced houses a dead body.

Creepy cubby hole where dead bodies live

Some of the awesome stuff I found: My dance costume!


My Red Sox hat and red lipstick!

Movie Star outfit... in other words sunglasses and a scarf...

Ok, so here's when things go from fun to dumb. I found a GIANT bottle of baby powder. I have a half-full small bottle of baby powder and I figure 'just fill up the little one with some of the big one and then throw out the big one.' Genius, right?

I now have a pile of baby powder outside my window (because I did have sense enough to do this OUTSIDE) that kinda looks like a pile of cocaine. Panicking, just in case someone spots it and calls the police, I decided to get rid of it.

With a hair drier.

I never claimed to be intelligent.

Sunday, July 1, 2012


I was just about to get on my poorly neglected blog to reaffirm my awesomeness – despite how inadequate Facebook makes me feel with all it's This friend is now engaged, This other friend is now married, This friend's going to show you pictures of their babies and rub it in your face about how awesome and happy their life is because instead of chasing their dreams half-way across the world, they settled and are living some mediocre life with their husband and 2.5 kids butthat'stotallycoolbecausetheyhaveafamilywhichissomethingyou'llneverhavebecauseyou'regoingtodiealone... Wait. Where was I?

Oh. Yes. I MEANT to come on here and rant about Facebook, but while logging in, I realised I couldn't remember how to spell my own last name. Awesome.

Please note: that 'Awesome' was totally not sarcastic. Forgetting how to spell my name means I get to whip out Mickey Mouse song. You see, my last name fits perfectly to the old Mickey Mouse Club song and, yes that's right, you should be jealous.

So, rather than be upset and go all crazy, I instead sat in my room singing my version of this:

Sunday, March 11, 2012

I give you good price

I love haggling.

I am a firm believer that it is a lost art in Western society. Of course, there are still some places you can haggle (car dealerships coming first to mind), but it's full potential is completely neglected in our day to day shopping experience.

I love haggling so much, that these were my favourite parts of my recent trip to Morocco. Yes, the mountains were beautiful and the sites amazing, but nothing could beat the thrill of haggling a price over a cup of very strong and very sugary mint tea. And nothing could beat the satisfaction of leaving a shop knowing that I got a cracking deal. I love it when I'm told 'I give you good price', 'what's your last price, best price?', or 'I see you're like strong Berber woman'. I love walking away from something only to hear 'Alright! I give it to you for that price'. Best. Feeling. Ever.

Now, having got that off my chest, I must admit that just because I get a good deal, doesn't mean I should buy it.

While in Morocco, my camera was stolen. It was three years old and it was about time for a new one anyway. So, I've been researching and deciding which make/model I should get and how much I could afford.

Walking by a camera shop today, I thought I might browse around and play with some of the cameras I had in mind. One thing led to another and I was being offered one of the high end cameras I had drooled over at a 'good price'. At those words, I immediately kicked into haggle-mode and got the shop keeper down £100 and a large memory card and case thrown in for free. It's a great deal. I got an awesome camera (for an amateur who has no friggin' clue how to properly use a camera) and free stuff. So, why do I feel so crap?

Because it's way out of my budget! I might have gotten the price down £100, but it was still £100 more than I had intended to spend. But there's no talking me down when I go into crazy-Alex-haggle-mode.

So, I guess this brings me to: 'Hi my name is Alex and I have a haggling problem.' That's the first step, right?

My fancy new camera has a fake tilt-shift mode... Totally worth every penny.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Alex's tips for happiness #1

I've had many a bad haircut over my lifetime – often leaving the hairdresser with a coiffure that looks more like I belong in an awful 80s band than in fashionable society.

Maybe it's my age, but today I've figured it all out.

Alex's Happiness Tip #1: Tell the hairdresser when she's done a shit job. 

Seriously. While sitting in front of the mirror, I have frequently told myself "Just wait. She knows what she's doing. It will look better once its been dried" or some other variant of those reassurances. But then it NEVER turns out to be true. Instead of telling the butcher with the scissors to fuck off, I used to smile and agree that yes, I do look fabulous.

Today, I stopped by for a trim and this time, when my hair was crooked, I let the bitch have it. Ok, so I didn't 'let her have it' but I did speak up and the result? A beautiful – and even – haircut.

Thursday, March 1, 2012


I bet you forgot you even followed this blog! I sure as hell forgot that I wrote it. Looking back through, I was pretty damn funny.

Man, I wish I was you so I could be reading this awesome blog.

I know I did a quick recap only a few posts ago, but seeing as that over a year ago, it doesn't hurt to do it again:

I landed my dream job at the music magazine. Score!
I spent last summer in true British fashion at music festivals and have even more to look forward to this summer. Groovy.
I haven't been anywhere exciting all year, until last week when I went to Morocco. Yalla!
I have come down with a nasty cold thanks to my Atlas mountains hiking. *ACHOO!*
And by 'hiking', I mean causally walking.
Finally, I had my camera nicked by some punk Moroccan boys. Fuckers.

So, no pictures for you!

You might ask, then, why I have returned to you after so long a wait. It's because I've decided I need a swankier blog. Something professional and mature to promote my journalism. Therefore, I'm going to need some kind of outlet for my crazy rantings. That's where you come in.