Happy bonfire night, flogstars. Hope you’re not scared of fireworks.
be cool, be cool
Today is my bodypainting assessment; I’m as prepared as I can be, and ready for ACTION!
what my tiger bodypainting will not look like
WTF? They’re cheap red pointy false nails, blue-tacked on to the end of makeup brushes, so I could paint them black. They will be Chloe’s claws.
Here are some more halloween photos from the weekend to tide you over until I have new material. These are just pub randoms, not my work.
Alright, night night now. Big day tomorrow… IT’S TIME TO PLAY THE GAME! So here’s Motorhead to sing you to sleep, which they won’t be doing in Glasgow in November because the tour’s been postponed. Gah. That’s THREE TIMES now that I’ve NOT seen Motorhead. Anyway, sweet dreams.
Today was the final day for wig assessments, and while I had already completed both of mine, my services as a short-haired model were required. Today I was Freyja’s model, and she turned me into a haunted Alice in Wonderland. I don’t have copies of the pics from the college camera (yet) but here are a few from my phone.
sans wig
a wee cheeky green one with halloween stickers, because why not
completed look
with the pin curls taken out
bus home. There are no other passengers BECAUSE I ATE THEM ALL!!!
and now I’m sitting in the kitchen writing this flog post. Not taking my makeup off, no sir.
The contacts are “Berzerker” from MesmerEyez.
So here’s 80s German power-metallers Helloween, with I Want Out. Parental Advisory: Contains exactly as many fluffy blond Euro-mullets, denim jackets, leather, skin tight jeans that show EVERYTHING, and dodgy special effects as you would expect from a video endorsed on imogenmaxwell.com
Oh hi flogstars. This week I was the model for two of the Belfast Babes’ wig assessments.
Here’s wee Saoirse (hi, Saoirse’s Mummy! I can totally spell your daughter’s name without looking, now. Hope you have a nice weekend!) making me in to a geek:
no mullets were harmed in the application of this wig
my view
Saoirse’s view
braces weren’t really designed with the larger-busted lady in mind, but I did my best to work it
And then it was Sinéad’s turn:
Terrified Mum’s going to see these and march over here all the way from Australia to slap the cigarette out of my paw
I’m going to sneak in a wee mid-post video for you, flogstars, cos it’s Friday and I feel like we all deserve a treat. It’s the legendary burping contest at the end of Revenge of the Nerds. Youtube won’t let me embed this one for some gimpy reason, but I highly recommend you click through and watch it. I used to have that burp as my answering machine message. Classy lassy right here.
The LOL-fest continued at home with the Mhairis (yes, 2/3 of my housemates are called Mhairi). Inspired by some Promise Tamang videos I’d made them watch last night, the brown powder eyeshadow and brown eyeliner came out and we bearded up.
Mhairi doesn’t normally wear a towel-cape and plastic bag on her head; it’s a hairdye thing
beard LOLz
you would, admit it
It was decided that I looked like somebody’s hot visiting Eurotrash cousin, or a surfer dude from Home and Away, or Gannicus from Spartacus (who is Australian actor Dustin Clare, who was on Home and Away apparently, so once again we’ve come full circle).
Yeah, I can live with that comparison
mmmm
I love you too, Gannicus
Before we go on, can I just say that I have only ever seen a fraction of one episode of Spartacus, and only because Chloe was basically making me and one of the Mhairis watch it. It’s dismal beyond description, but I really did enjoy making fun of it.
Moving on, Mhairi then compared me to the angel from Barbarella:
The angel was not very happy to be compared to beardy me, and while I am flattered that my facial hair brought to mind the overall impression of a bronzed, buff god, I’m not loving his special-ed fringe. Not at all.
Right you lot, it’s after midnight and I’m sitting in the kitchen Googling “collective noun for bronzed buff gods” – still with my beard on. This madness must come to an end.
Speaking of beards. Watch this magical video from Beardyman, a beatboxing legend (stay with me) recording and looping his own voice to build up a pretty incredible rendition of Massive Attack’s Tear Drop.
Today’s post is about two German things. One of them is Agi, the other is the Glasgow Oktoberfest.
remember when I went to Germany in May?
First things first.
On Thursday I partied with these sexy mofos up in Oban.
United nations.
It was also attempt #2 at my second wig assessment with Agi as my model. Regular readers will remember LAST Thursday’s disaster when the assessment during class time had to be abandonned. It went much better this time around!
Here’s the step-by-step in pictures.
I used… Ben Nye eyeshadows in Green As Fuck and Golden Shower (not real eyeshadow names, I just can’t be bothered going to check) mixed with Illamasqua sealing gel. The black outline is a Barry M liquid liner, the white is that white cream makeup I’ve mentioned a million times. I don’t think it has a brand. Get on eBay and search for “white cream makeup”, the one I use looks like this:
… but I think they’re all pretty similar. What is not similar is the price. If you buy that ish in a costume shop, you’re looking at about £12. Online it’s £1.75. Sorry local business, but I just can’t. When I start earning proper money I will support you again, but for now, it’s online all the way.
Anyway, the foundation is Illamasqua Rich Liquid and the blush is a MAC Mineralize one that I am quite fond of. The wig is a cheapy from eBay as well. It’s actually got a long side-fringe but it was pinned out the way to show the anime eyes.
Hopefully this will fly with the college. They weren’t too in love with the idea of me doing the assessment not-at-college, but you know me, flogstars. I like to just go for it anyway.
So that was Thursday. On Friday Chloe and I returned to Glasgow, I quickly threw on my dirndl and we were out the door sharpish for the Glasgow Oktoberfest with a handful of our other pals from Oban.
“Squeezy” Lou and Chloe
As a beer-festival expert, I noticed a few things about Scotland’s attempt at this greatest of all occasions that were a bit… different to how they do it in Germany. Firstly, PLASTIC mass glasses and wine carafes. PLASTIC! And there were also two security guards and one cop per person. I suppose both of these details are a necessary evil in these parts.
It was only £2.50 to get in to the beer tent (good) and there wasn’t any allocated seating (also good, although if it had been full it would have been a problem).
The two biggest heartbreaks were the beer and the food. We had tickets for a meal and ordering it was quite the comedy of errors. After the third delivery of wrong food, the waiter actually had a tantrum and walked off. I had to chase after him and dry his tears and coax him into doing his damn job properly. Lucky I am so persuasive. This was at about 7pm, when the tent was still half empty and everyone was still sober. That little bitch would have had one of the longest nights of his life if he couldn’t cope with our table.
The one on the right is either a plate of sauce or sauerkraut mixed with mashed potato (two of the things we didn’t order but received anyway)
No.
My problem with the beer is also two-part; the fact that it was MID-STRENGTH, and also £8.50 for a big one – which wasn’t even a litre! You should see the look on my face as I am typing this. Chloe and I had one ‘mass’ each and realised that we could sit there drinking that watered down, not-even-German shit all night and walk out of there not even the tinest bit wobbly.
I panicked and bought two bottles of wine, hoping that it, at least, would have alcohol in it. I was disappointed, of course, as they had watered it down too. WITH WATER. I wish I was joking. And I know what you must be thinking; pissed bitch yells at bar staff because she is so drunk she can’t taste the alcohol in her beverage. No, dear reader. I was as sober as a judge, and so was Chloe.
We had started to lose our sense of humour at this stage. We had paid good money – far too much good money – for this watered-down crap, so good ole Chlo went and complained to the arse behind the bar and made him open two new bottles and tip them into a carafe in front of us. Ha.
my hero
I look at this photo and want to travel back in time and stop myself from drinking it.
But time travel hasn’t been invented yet.
Stop, stop, stop, you don’t have to drink the whole thing!
And another thing. Wearing a dirndl has never before put me at a disadvantage…
… but at Glasgow’s Oktoberfest, it was a huge mistake – everybody thought I worked there. Worse, because my dirndl was different to the actual staff (mine was blue and covers my ass, theirs were pink and didn’t) I was mistaken for some sort of authority figure, so people were coming to me with their problems all night. “Where’s our food”, “we ordered 6 beers but only got 5”, etc etc etc. Gah!
Jenny gets the money shot
So, for any of you thinking of attending the Glasgow Green Oktoberfest this or next weekend, here are my hints. Arrive drunk, and find or win a lot of money that you don’t mind wasting on non-alcoholic beer and wine before you go. Also, don’t be awesome and wear a dirndl, and wear wellington boots because they erected the tent on a bog.
Oh, and don’t use the Groupon £15 for two tickets offer – it’s the worst value for money ever. The allocated seating doesn’t exist, you only get a half-pint of MID-STRENGTH beer, you have no choice with the food they give you (which is two nasty little Farmfoods sausages on a plate of chips) and all that shit bought separately would come in cheaper.
Humph. I’m all annoyed now. I am actually most pissed off with myself for panic-drinking that wine. A huge rip off that ended the night early. What a waste! Oh well, there will be plenty more opportunities to unleash my inner German beast.
Until such a time, here’s Scorpions. They’re German, and awesome.
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.
me emptying a can of hairspray onto her dome to hold everything in place
Carissa’s hair wrapped, pin-curled and sprayed, ready for the sexy head-sock
me looking a normal height for once
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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!
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.
.
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!”
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.
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:
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:
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.
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.
As this blog is written by someone who actually has “hand-wash dirndl” and “write to Amish pen-pal” on this week’s To Do list, it won’t surprise you to hear that this weekend presents yet another party at which I am expected to dazzle.
And also as you would expect, any party involves dress-ups, if you’re me. Anyone who has ever been to a dress up party knows that this always, always presents a plethora of dilemmas.
While I’ve been called worse things than the Colossus of Costume, obviously I have a reputation to uphold. And a delicate chord to strike; this is a work function, after all. It’s the grand opening of our new building. All of Oban’s titans of industry (????) will be in attendance.
I must present myself as professional!
Capable!
Confident!
Approachable!
Not a liability, in any way!
Auditioning now for body doubles.
Are YOU coming on Saturday? Open day and canapes at Backpackers Plus, see y’all there.
Also, what should I do with my hair? I feel like I’m ‘between haircuts’ at the minute and would really appreciate some sensible suggestions, such as “get extensions to make it even more mullet-y”.
I got back from Germany yesterday, and back to Oban about 3 hours ago, to find a package waiting for me. From the one and only glorious, gorgeous Irene!
In amongst a whole lot of fabulous goodies, there was some tooth blackening enamel, attractively modelled by me above. Can’t wait to get busy creeping everyone out with this!
In the meantime, I’m freakin’ shattered from all the beer I had to drink last weekend, so … I’ll have to come up with something more intelligent for Thursday’s post. Look forward to it, dear reader, you know what I’m like Xx
She is in Oban HelpXing at the Backpackers again for the FOURTH time – yes, that is how much of an excellent boss I am. Never mind the fact that this technically means she has already left three times… she just can’t stay away.
But Carissa is more than an outstanding unpaid worker, she is also a very dear friend. She is a creative soul, willing to indulge me, schmokin’ hawt and able to throw excellent poses. Bingo.
As regular readers will know, I’ve gone a bit mad on the online wig procurement lately, and it seems silly not to put this transvestite treasure trove to good use. I’ve always loved wigs, in fact, for my 21st birthday, BFF Sophie and I had a party together to celebrate, and the theme was… WIGS.
If memory serves, this was when I first dabbled in the mullet lifestyle. I bought a big, bad, white-blonde Tina Turner/David Bowie-in-the-Labyrinth mullet and bloody loved it. I wonder where that wig is now. Probably in storage at Mum and Dad’s, bugger, I shouldn’t mention that because now they’re going to read this and bring up how much my crap is crapping up their garage.
the only thing better than a wig, is TWO wigs
But anyway. Carissa came over the other night and the green paint was still out from my date with a bunch of daffodils, so I was like, can I paint you green and draw a bunch of question marks between your boobs?
literally, a human WTF
Like I said, she is a very good sport.
Carissa is a female Riddler. She is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key.
wish my boobs were green…
YOLO
And then Chloe came home and wasn’t at all surprised because mad shit like this goes on all the time when you live with me.
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digital imologue 