Tag Archives: college

gettin’ wiggy with it

6 Oct

That Will Smith song has been in my head for days, and now we must all suffer.  Let’s get it out the way at the beginning of the post so we can put it behind us, move on and never speak of it again.

 

So Thursday was a big day – a visit from the one and only Carissa (remember when I painted her boobs green?) in town for one night only, and two magnificent reasons.  Firstly, to model for my first wig assessment – and oh boy, model she did.  That girl knows how to throw a pose.

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me emptying a can of hairspray onto her dome to hold everything in place

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Carissa’s hair wrapped, pin-curled and sprayed, ready for the sexy head-sock

me looking a normal height for once

me looking a normal height for once

backstage madness

backstage madness

even more backstage madness

even more backstage madness

…and here are some of the snaps from our library photoshoot.  What you can’t hear is the tapping on the glass and wolf-whistling from the big group of lads sitting outside the library.  They were quite overwhelmed.

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Tutor Janet seemed happy with the way they turned out, so once they’re edited etc I’m pretty sure they’ll be good enough for assessment.

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Carissa’s hair once the pincurls were taken out, heehee

So then we went out to celebrate at the Cathouse (I’m not proud), with our Finnish friends Reckless Love.  We turned up at the venue at about 9pm to find them coming back out on stage for their encore.  The whole thing was over by 9:30pm.  Can you believe it?

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We had fun even though we missed probably more than half the show.  Oh well.

In other news, I earned and spent my first Amazon voucher from doing online surveys.  Guilt free shopping cos technically it’s free!  Win!  Amongst other essentials (I got a copy of Aerosmith’s Pump for 1p!) I procured some Halloween accessories, black-out contacts and vampire fangs.  I don’t actually have any costume ideas, but it’s good to be prepared.  Not that I’ve been invited to any Halloween parties or anything… but it’s good to be prepared.   I’ll have to work out how to attach the fangs better… couldn’t get the dental adhesive to work properly, and it coated my mouth with its nastiness.  Bleugh.

black contacts

Give us a kiss.

Give us a kiss.

Speaking of Aerosmith’s Pump album, here they are with Love in an Elevator.  Two songs in one flog post?  I break all the rules.

 

Happy Monday, flogstars! Xx

imminent wig assessment

2 Oct

My original concept was actually quite demure.  It was inspired by a steel-grey bob wig, possibly the most unsexual thing you might imagine.  When Sinead tried it on,  teamed with her catseye glasses it somehow came alive and my idea was born; I’d use her as my model for my first wig assessment, headmistress-inspired shoot in the library, keep the makeup very simple, have her holding a book and a coffee mug, take a nice classy photo and be done with it.

I pitched this idea to my tutor and within moments it had escalated to something rather more hardcore, including a suggestion that perhaps we could (and I quote) ‘lure a young man in from the corridor’ and get a photo of him bent over Sinead’s knee while she wields a ruler ‘or other spanking device such as a hardcover book’ about his rear end.  Well I never!

hopefully not.

hopefully not.

The idea has (d)evolved further and now bears absolutely no resemblance to its original form.  Even the wig may be different.  Carissa is now my model.  I just had to message Chloe asking where the skin-tight pink power suit is (in the same bag as the Boy George shirt and the kimono).  Things have taken a sharp turn towards… sexy secretary who just happens to be in the library.

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“Amateurs.”

So that’s all happening tomorrow.  After the wigwork, Carissa and I will be heading out on the town, off to rock you like a hurricane, Glasgow.  Only one more decision to make today – do I wear the gold foil leopard print trousers, the blue foil snakeskin, the pink leopards, or the green snakeskin?

Here’s Reckless Love to ring in the weekend early, relevant because that’s who Carissa and I are seeing tomorrow, and because there’s some rather spectacular wigwork in this video.  Enjoy, and happy weekend lovers!

body painting, week 1

1 Oct
me, awkwardly failing the pencil test since... oh, 1997?

me, awkwardly failing the pencil test since… oh, 1997?

Today was our first bodypainting session.  Our tutor Janet demonstrated a few techniques, painting a black corset with gold lace and roses, on one of our brave and gorgeous classmates (Jen), who was an awfully good sport about the whole thing.

Here’s the one photo I took, of everyone being pervy and taking photos of Jen with her baps out.

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I asked Jen’s  permission to upload this photo here, on my flog.

“Jen”, I said solemnly, “It is one thing to stand topless in front of 20 of your silent, gawping classmates for an hour while Janet paints your nips.  It’s one thing to have a photo of your blacked-out rack all over Facebook, but quite another to have it on this, the greatest flog in all the land, a modern-day oracle, revered by titans of the cosmetic industry, creators, producers, artists, muses, rebels, waifs, designers, dreamers and lovers alike.  Are you SURE you don’t mind me publishing this smartphone photo of your side-boob to the finest minds on the internet, my international audience of millions?  Think carefully Jen, are you ready to become iconic, timeless, an indelible mark on the annals of cultural history, a part of the Imosphere… forever?”

Jen did one better.  “Course it’s fine, I’ve got some better pics if you’d prefer to use those, I’m not shy!”

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Then it was everyone else’s turn to strip off and give it a go.  We are all much better acquainted now.

This is what I whipped up in my first attempt:

only took me like ten minutes, too.  LOL, this is not, I repeat NOT, my work, I totally stole this image from ... holy shit, I lost my reference page.  Not good.  Sorry, whoever this belongs to.  UGH, this is the WORST blog etiquette, Imogen, the WORST.  Not taking the picture down, mind, it's too cool.  Forgive me, blog gods.

only took me like ten minutes, too. LOL, this is not, I repeat NOT, my work, I totally stole this image from … holy shit, I lost my reference page. Not good. Sorry, whoever this belongs to. UGH, this is the WORST blog etiquette, Imogen, the WORST. Not taking the picture down, mind, it’s too cool. Forgive me, blog gods.

Moving on, the afternoon class (Basic Makeup) involved me being cruelly separated from my beloved study-buddy Sinead, and paired with the equally delightful Magda:

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hope y’all aren’t sick of these mirror photos, there are SO MANY more to come

who did this ‘basic 4-shadow blend’ on my mug:

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everyone else in the class has nailed their ‘face for when a close-up photo is being taken of your makeup’ – not this guy.

And that was all in a day’s work, best beloved.  I’m pooped.

pURGR

 

A song before bedtime, you say?  Go on.

Here’s Eels with The Good Old Days, from the album Shootenanny! (the exclamation mark is part of the album title, not just my enthusiastic punctuation).  This song choice will surprise regular readers, who normally brace themselves for some terrible 80s hair metal at this time of the flog.  I chose this song because I couldn’t get a link to All In A Day’s Work from the same album, and also because it’s beautiful, and nice and mellow for this time of night.

What is Shootenanny! doing in my CD collection, if I also own not one but TWO Iron Maiden albums?  I’ll tell you.  I was going to save this story for publication in a fucking epic post in which I interview myself, but let’s treat ourselves.

The most sensible new year’s resolution I ever had was to buy one new album every payday.  I might reinstate that one actually, when I have paydays again that is, LOL.  Anyhoo, Eels had a song on the radio that I liked, so I bought their album, loved it, then went to their show at the Thebarton Theatre in Adelaide, when they toured.  This would have been about ten years ago.

Of every live music performance I have ever seen, and not to brag or anything but I have seen shitloads, Eels are the only band I’ve seen who kept playing after the show really was over.  And I mean over.  I don’t mean an encore.  Lights were on, power was shut off, everyone had left.  There was probably a lone wee guy sweeping up empty plastic beer cups.  Still they kept going.  My pal EJ and I were there until almost the bitter end; I don’t know how long they actually kept playing for, and the only reason I know for sure that they’re not still going on that very same stage is because I have seen other shows there since.

Anyway, Shootenanny! is a great album, and reminds me of… a time in my life that was technically a bit shit in a few ways, I hated my job for example, but music that makes you remember anything always makes you a bit fond, doesn’t it.

 

back to the beginning

27 Sep

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The reason I have opened today’s post with an old photo of Bon Scott smiling through the agony of a badly infected testicle that you can practically hear straining against the seam of those skin-tight grey jeans is…. sorry, I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

well hello

well hello

Oh yeah.  Something to do with an idea I had for one of my wig assessments.  Any man out there willing to let me apply mascara to his chest hair to achieve the look?  Get in touch via my contact page.  I’ll make you look cool, promise.

This being-in-a-new-city-and-not-knowing-many-locals-well-enough-to-ask-if-they’ll-let-me-paint-their-bare-bodies situation is going to quickly become a problem for me at college.  All I ever had to do in Oban was pull a ‘having a creative idea’ face and BAM, everyone’s volunteering to get naked, painted and photographed.  Where are you, Glasgow exhibitionists?

Perhaps I should be careful what I wish for.  Remember what happened when I put an ad on Gumtree looking for a flat-share?  Yeah.

Anyhoo.  Here are some other rock-god chests I wouldn’t mind painting, since I’m feeling particularly self indulgent today.

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Reckless Love, who I shall be seeing next Thursday with Carissa – we are returning to the scene of last year’s crime…

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Jettblack. When you google images of them, two pictures of me come up, which pleases me immensely. Lick lick.

Alright, that’s enough of that.  We’ve got a lot to cover today.

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Autumn’s here.  Next week it will be October.  I’m a little shit-scared of how fast time is galloping by.

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I feel both settled and still very new in Glasgow.  The very first time I arrived here in March 2008, I had a budget of £15 per day – £2 for food (Subway 6-inch of the day), £13 for my hostel bed which included breakfast, and dinner was a row of chocolate from the enormous stockpile I had bought in Belgium.

There is something about having absolutely no money that is kind of liberating.  I mean, it fucking sucks, but it simplifies things.  I walked and walked and walked around, day and night.  I ‘saved’ all the free museums and art galleries for shit-weather days, and just walked the rest of the time.  I would sleep in until right before free breakfast ended, so I wouldn’t be awake for too long burning calories and getting hungry.  Late at night I would sit in my bunk writing, watching the others in my 14-bed dorm, wishing I was travelling with a big group of friends like they all seemed to be, wishing I knew where to go and what to do.

Everyone I spoke to raved about Edinburgh.  Nobody seemed to think that Glasgow was up to much.  I didn’t necessarily agree but after nearly 2 weeks walking and walking and walking around, I thought I could probably justify forking out for a bus to Edinburgh to see what all the fuss was about.  There began a chain of events that lead me to running the backpackers’ hostel in Oban for 5 years, but that’s another story for another time.

What I didn’t immediately realise was that I’d developed quite a good relationship with Glasgow in this formative period of my early backpacking days.  I didn’t have a head full of shit about how dangerous Glasgow was, so it didn’t occur to me to feel unsafe cruising the mean streets on my own in the middle of the night.  I think I have always been reasonably sensible so I wasn’t going anywhere actually dodgy at night, but in retrospect I think the whole experience would have been different, and ruined, if I had been scared.

Instead, I felt Glasgow’s friendliness, I felt like it was a good place to be if you weren’t from here.  People heard my accent and were interested.  I was a young woman travelling alone so people went out of their way to make sure I was ok.  I got invited into people’s homes for cups of tea and to look in their old family photo albums.  They wrote down their addresses so I could send them postcards from wherever I went next.  No one stabbed me, and I was never even offered heroin.

Glasgow is my Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.  Glasgow is my hooker with a heart of gold, my rough diamond.  Glasgow’s reputation might not be the best, but you have to cop a feel for yourself, make your own mind up.

And do you think I can get the effing gif of Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in The Diamond Necklace Scene to work?  Gah!

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Anyway, here I am again, back where I first started my Scottish adventure five and a half years ago.  My budget is about the same again, but the new job I start tomorrow will hopefully have LOTS of overtime and put an end to all this being-broke bullshit.  It’s really cramping my style.

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Are you still reading?  Good for you.  This week at college!

Kim Kardashian-style kontouring!

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Saoirse kontoured to within an inch of her life

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and just to think, most people try to get their makeup to match their skin tone and NOT leave a streaky brown tide mark around their jaw.

Wig work!

Ashleigh rocking the 90s-kids-TV-presenter look

Ashleigh rocking the 90s-kids-TV-presenter look

She would have been the coolest girl at my high school in 1998

She would have been the coolest girl at my high school in 1998

not pubes, just another wig sitting in front of the mirror

not pubes, just another wig sitting in front of the mirror

… and posing, bitches.

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So here’s AC/DC with their 1980 hit, You Shook Me All Night Long, because it’s Friday.  I know this flog has attracted the attention of many classic rock puritans internationally who are going to light up the whole internet with bitter posts about how you can’t have a photo of Bon Scott’s crotch one minute, and be signing off with a Brian Johnson hit the next, but all I can say is bite me.  Also, AC/DC are Australian*.  Ha!

Happy Friday, lovers Xx

*No one in Scotland likes hearing this truth.

the results are in

18 Sep

I strongly dislike airbrushing.  It’s frustrating.  The guns we use at college aren’t the best, and it’s impossible to clean them properly.  That, and our class is 20-odd chicas, so we all have to share.  Everything.  All the time.  There’s one of each thing we need, and 20 people wanting to use it at the same time.  Gah!

I just... don't like sharing.

I just… don’t like sharing.

And as previously mentioned, the makeup itself is minging.  It has turned my skin to that of a 14 year old boy, yet when it’s on my face, sinking into my pores and wrinkles and looking like a thick hideous mask, that ugly crap somehow manages to make me look 100 years old.  Bah!

Anyway, that’s today’s makeup bitch.  Airbrushing will come in handy when it’s body-paintin’ time…

stencil time

stencilicious

…I just don’t like it on my face.  And college is awesome, in fact, and we only have to do airbrushing for another couple of weeks before we move on to other stuff.

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ermagherd

And even though there are more people than required materials in the class, mostly everyone’s mostly cool.  The tutors are all great, and it’s nice to sit in a classroom without wishing your time away.

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I pay so much attention.

So this week, apart from hating on airbrush guns, we’ve been doing normal basic makeup/foundation…

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makeup is gross

makeup is gross

….and we also continued with studio portraits for our portfolio production.  Here are some behind the scenes shots for your enjoyment:

my view

my view

their view
their view
then we got fancy AND schmancy with the lighting

then we got fancy AND schmancy with the lighting

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snap.

snap.

So that’s what’s going oooon, dear reader.  Tomorrow, computer class in the a.m. and WIG-WORK in the afternoon!  Couldn’t you just die?

Here’s Def Leppard with their 1983 (a very good year) single, Photograph.  From Pyromania, back when Rick had both arms.  It’s not my favourite DL song, but it’s not my least favourite either – and it’s topical, so bloody well listen to it, alright?  😉

 

x Imo

no regrets

4 Sep
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I think it makes me look younger.

Only my second week at makeup school and I’ve shaved my eyebrows off.

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Just kidding, it was Photoshop all along.

Remember kids, if you DO shave your eyebrows off, you’ll need to learn how to quick-draw your emotions.

This week, I have also been learning AIRBRUSHING!

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Imogen Maxwell: Makeup GUN

In the chair is my college, carpool, Facebook, and real life friend Sinead.  We spray-painted each other new cheekbones and all.

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you can’t tell from the photo but my jawbone was contoured to within an inch of its life. Sinead looked at me in the mirror when she was done, and said “hmm… I’ve just made you look more like David Bowie than you ever meant to, I think.”

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to anyone who thinks beauty therapy and makeup artistry aren’t brain surgery, you are wrong.

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who wants a lash tint? Cos I can do that.

So as you can see, I’m doing lots and learning lots and having fun.  Happy days 🙂

Our (your, not my) respite from hair metal continues, dear reader, but not for much longer.  Today’s bangin’ tune is relevant because Rome WASN’T built in a day, and I’m also going to see Morcheeba with my other new friend Aoife.  Yep, I’ve fallen in with the Belfast Babes (finally, my dream of joining a gang and click-walking through the corridors is coming true).

Bliss n kisses, kittens

x x x

oh yeah, and about college

30 Aug

If you’re an avid Imogen Maxwell fan, you’ll have noticed an unusual amount of activity on my Instagram recently.

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That’s because I am unemployed and have no friends.

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and spend all day in H&M trying things on with absolutely no intention of buying them.  Star jumper crop top accessoried by my newly re-calibrated mullet, by David @ Rainbow Rooms Int, Royal Exchange Square

But considering I am unemployed and have no friends, I’ve been keeping quite busy.  Let me tell you about my first week at college.  The journey there was (before I found carpool friends) a shitty bus ride and a walk past this:

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Titan Crane, Queens Quay

to eventually end up here:

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My class is 21 ladies from all kinds of backgrounds; a few hairdressers, a few with completely unrelated degrees.  All of them lovely, none of them the terrifying supermodels I had feared.  Most of our sessions are spent in rooms like this:

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it was this photo that reminded me to get a haircut

wearing this:

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The coursework sounds like it’s going to be time consuming, expensive, and fucking amazing.  We’ll be doing everything; hairdressing, photography, digital editing, styling, location work, high fashion… everything.  I have so much to learn and I can’t wait to really get stuck in!  Win!

I was going to end this post with School’s Out by Alice Cooper, since it’s school-themed, but school’s only just gone back in so here he is with Trash instead (cos I love the way you look, you’re such a high class tramp).

 

Happy Friday, sexy readers Xx

habits I need to break

29 Aug

It’s our two week anniversary, Glasgow.  You’ve given me three new housemates and two job interviews.  You’ve taken me on one date, 19 subway rides and too many trips to MacDonalds.  We’re two weeks into our new life together, Glasgow, and I’m one week into my course.  I know this might be rushing things a bit… but I think you might be the one.

Here are our Finnish friends with their new single So Happy I Could Die, which nicely sums up how I’m feeling about things right now.

 

This post was going to be a LOL-fest about how I need to stop smiling at people on public transport and saying ‘hi’ to everyone I walk past in the street – we’re not in Oban any more, Dorothy – but I don’t actually intend to stop doing either of those things.  Smile and the subway smiles with you; fart and you stand alone.

But anyway, there is something more pressing to be addressed.  I have identified a ‘development area’ for myself (two job interviews and I’ve turned into an utter wanker, it seems).

Obviously, I’m meeting a lot of new people here in the big smoke.  All the mega-babes on my course, naturally, but ‘non-makeup’ people too.  And it’s normal when you meet new people for them to ask you what you do.

And I need to STOP answering “studying.  Makeup Artistry… but I’M NOT A BIMBO.”

Are you LISTENING to yourself, Imogen Maxwell?  That’s an insult to me, my tutors/lecturers, and my classmates.  It’s also a bit of an insult to whoever I’m talking to when I say things like that; I’m yet to have “I’m studying makeup artistry” met with “well you must be one hell of a vacuous deadshit, hey.”

no-no

I’m judging people for judging me when they aren’t even – and that is using bad judgement.

So.  If ever I’m met with “why?” instead of “cool!” when i say what i do, I shall puff up my chest, look ’em in the eye and say “because I want to.”  Which is, as far as I know, the most compelling reason there is.

But until that day, I’ll be cutting back on so much self-deprecation and apologising about what I’m doing; no one else actually gives a fuck anyway, and I’ve taken on some reasonably seismic upheaval to make this dream of mine come true.  I AM serious about makeup, so it’s time for my words to line up with my actions.

To celebrate the end of MY bad habit of hanging shit on myself, I present to you the second long-haired pack of reprobates for today – unprecedented!  Two in one flog post – you lucky devils!  Here you’ve got New York young guns, Nasty Habit, with Hip Shakin’ Fox.  Sorry, and you’re welcome.

 

blogs and kisses,
x Imo

 

GIF me a job

23 Aug

Can I just say… today is the first time I’ve been able to get a GIF to work on my flog.  So… someone, GIF me a high-five!

No?  Moving on.

Enrollment day went well.  Found the bus, got off at the right stop, didn’t accidentally join a gang.  Bit of a waste, really, because the long long corridors at the college would be PERFECT for menacing, West-Side-Story-style click-walking.

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not what actual gangs are like

not what actual gangs are like

My greatest fear was that my classmates would be all like

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unfriendly, 15 years old, and orange

but they weren’t.  They WERE younger than me but not by fifteen years.  They WERE a little orange (some of them) but that’s alright with me.

They were also all friendly, and everyone was a little nervous and unsure of what to expect, so it was fine.  There was lots of green/blue/pink/purple/silver hair and LOTS of facial piercings (so I shan’t be getting my lip pierced now, partly because it would make me the same as everyone else but mostly because I am pretty sure my mother would march right over here – yes, from Australia – and tear it out of my face if I did.  Yes, I am thirty years old, contemplating a facial piercing and not going ahead because my parents would kill me.  Shut up.)

So that’s enrollment all done, and classes begin on Tuesday.  The rest of this week was spent re-acquainting myself with my CV and exploring my local area.  I’ve applied for a couple of jobs but I’m having a bit of an identity crisis.  I was the boss-lady up in Oban for the last five years so the idea of NOT having any responsibility kind of appeals, yet I also want to earn more than the minimum wage.  What to do?

First things first, I should really sort my chipped black nail polish out.

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May as well have “I’m not getting the job, am I?” tattooed on my neck.

Today’s tune deviates once again from the metal of glam and hair.  Because I am multi-faceted, with layers.  Like an onion.  A lot like an onion actually.  Delicious, but no one will have me in case they have to kiss their girlfriend later.  Boom boom!  Just kidding.  ANYWAY.

I’ve been making the most of the kitchen in my new flat which has not one but TWO dance areas.  Brilliant.  My housemates couldn’t be lovelier either.  Lucky me.  So let’s party – hit play and dance around, fools.  Yes, I know it’s annoying ad-music, but live a little won’t you.  It’s fun.

Happy Friday, lovers – I’m off to whoop it up with Loz who’s coming for a visit from Oban tonight.  We’re going to scare the panties off Glasgow.

Xx

bye, July

31 Jul

Chloe and I travelled through space and time down to London last week, for the David Bowie Is exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum.  She bought us flights and a night in a hostel right by the museum for my birthday, and THAT, boys and girls, is how you win employee of the month.

So here is a little photo essay, scroll down really fast to animate and it’s almost like you’re there with us.  Soundtrack: us screeching “HOW FUCKING MUCH?” every time we had to pay for something.

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it would probably be quicker to WALK from Oban to London but public transport is just so much funnnn

After … about 30 hours in transit, we finally arrived in London.  It was HOT down there – up in the highlands, summer so far has been humid and freezing, the worst of both worlds.  But in London, blue skies and legit t-shirt temperatures!

Nelson's Column, London Eye in the background.

Nelson’s Column, London Eye in the background.

We checked in to our hostel…

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good luck with that

… and beetled straight over to the V&A to check out our chances of getting in the next day.  We put on our broadest Australian accents and advised the staff that we had travelled a very. long. way. to see the exhibition, and we were only in London for one day so what did they suggest we do to guarantee a ticket?

Sadly they didn’t usher us into the exhibition after hours so we could dance about trying on the priceless Yamamotos.

Chloe (left) and me dancing about in the priceless Yamamotos

Chloe (left) and me dancing about in the priceless Yamamotos. Thanks, yeah, I work out.

But they did tell us to get in line quick-sharp the next morning, and all going well we’d be allowed in.  The museum opens at 10am so they told us to come around 9am, but we didn’t take any chances.  We were there at 8am because we’re hardcore.

good thing too, this was the line by 9am.  We were 15th and 16th from the front, coiled like steel springs ready to fly through the doors at 10:00:01am

good thing too, this was the line by 9am. We were 15th and 16th from the front, coiled like steel springs ready to fly through the doors at 10:00:01am

We got stand-by tickets to the first showing…

BOOM

BOOM

and the exhibition was friggin’

squeeeeee

squeeeeee

We had to go and drink some vodka in Regent's Park afterwards to calm down before our flight back up to Scottyland

We had to go and drink some vodka in Regent’s Park afterwards to calm down before our flight back up to Scottyland

So then we spent the night in my new flat in Glasgow, which I will be moving in to in 2 weeks from today.

Sad to leave my awesome housemates and weird to leave the town and job that have been home for the last 5 years...

Sad to leave my awesome housemates and weird to leave the town and job that have been home for the last 5 years…

... but excited for the change of scenery and the bloody amazing fun and opportunities that are to come!

… but excited for the change of scenery and the bloody amazing fun and opportunities that are to come!

So that’s me, kids.  I’m spending the next couple of weeks trying to sort out things at work and get my move a’happenin’.  I know I’ve really let this flog die in the arse and I do apologise to any disappointed stalkers out there.  I’ve got some good ideas for future posts so hang in there and one day I will get my shit together and make it worth your while.

meantime, here are my nails!  Silver flame wraps that I bought in Reykjavic earlier this year.

meantime, here are my nails! Silver flame wraps that I bought in Reykjavik earlier this year.

Right, now I’m off to bed, and when I wake up I’m going to make August my BEEEEAATCH.  Stay tuned, best beloved xX

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