This morning, I woke up in my twenties for the last time.
Unless I take a nap this afternoon that is.
But you know what? I’m turning 30 and I don’t give a fuck.
Life is good. I’m fit and healthy, I have a loving and supportive family, a big circle of fabulous friends, and a lot to look forward to. There’s a lot of fun to be had out there, dear reader.
So let’s go!
See you on the other side…
It’s all go here at ImogenMaxwell.com this month; my birthday is coming…
… my new smart phone has made me 100% more obnoxious…
… and I’ve got new digs in Glasgow. I move early August into the most friggin’ gorgeous flat I’ve seen in real life. From the swamp of responses I received to my gumtree ad, a lone flower emerged from the mire… well, crap analogy but anyway, the best response to my ad led me to three girls around my age with a spare room in the west end. Score!
they don’t know I look like this in the morning. Yet.
So that’s it. I’m moving to Glasgow, decision made. I now have the timetable for my course, I’m there 4 days a week (annoying) but have Friday-Saturday-Sunday off (excellent).
Makeup Forever aqua cream shadows, Illamasqua powder shadow and sealing gel
Anyhoo. Today’s hair metal classic is another wee diamond with a slightly WTF opening sequence, Summertime Girls by Californian poodle-permers Y & T. Within this video you’ll find a wide world of 80s wonder – men in crop tops, a bikini that looks like pubes (why why why), a “heavy metal detector” detecting one of the band members buried under the sand, an actual mermaid and painfully high-cut swimwear that only the 80s can do.
It’s this kind of fun, feel-good, dumb ole rock-n-roll that really makes summer, for me; it’s sure as shit not the drizzle, 90mph wind and 11-degree days here on the west coast of Scotland. Enjoy!
Why doesn’t she wear her hair like that more often?
What’s the shite all over her face?
Why would anyone put a photo of themselves online… looking like THAT?
Well, best beloved, let me try to answer some of those questions for you… now. I don’t wear my hair like that more often because of my enormous fivehead. I put this photo up online for your laughing pleasure because we’re not that vain here at ImogenMaxwell.com
And that shite all over my face is a mixture of crushed aspirin, water and honey. Save your WTFs until after you’ve read this, from hilariookie beauty-blogger extraordinaire, Michaela Williams (who is, apparently, incidentally, a distant cousin of mine. Check out her blog at http://www.latherrinserepeat.com.au).
So, since you’ve read all about aspirin facials now, I won’t bother going into detailed explanations here. As regular readers will know from my use of Vegemite as makeup and constant references to makeup I “bought 100 years ago in Australia”, keepin’ it cheap is part of my whole deal. Suffice to say that aspirin facials work, and they’re cheap. Which sounds much more like us, now doesn’t it?
I got out the black and white Snazaroo facepaint originally to turn myself into a Dalmation, but I got side-tracked, so here you go.
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”.
This weekend I’ve been to England and back, for my cousin’s wedding. The weekend before, I went to Germany and back for the beer festival, but you already knew that because you religiously stalk my flog and you’ve been a bit worried because I haven’t posted every other day like I normally do.
I admit, I dropped the ball, best beloved. I’m not telling you about my fabulous life of endless jet-set socialising ONLY to brag about it, but also to excuse my lack of flogging this week.
Did I mention that, in between the last two weekends away (both of which were book-ended by one whole day in transit each direction), we moved premises at work and got the new building open and up and running?
For someone who normally swans about at a luxurious snails’ pace, this business has left me catatonic at the end of each day and completely unable to flog sensibly. Sorry, fans.
To atone, here’s a photo of me and Chloe pre-wedding. This is one of a series of test shots we always take before going out in public, to see how we’re coming up in photos that day. To practice working our angles and check make-up etc.
yes, this is a photo taken in the mirror with the camera on self-timer, balanced on a bottle of vodka, which is balanced on a kettle. You won’t get this kind of behind-the-scenes action again, people, so soak it up.
See “how to be photogenic” for further information/tips on how to be like us.
xXx
I’m too sexy for this tooth
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
mullet + biker boots + dirndl = ??
my nasty little plait is no match for Chloe’s
but I am getting better at fish-tail plaiting!
sober
I’m in Germany this weekend with Chloe, Ian and Alewyn, to meet up with a big group of our German friends for a beer festival.
I got these yellow, red and black nail stripers from http://www.sparkly-nails.co.uk
This will be the third time I’ve been, and it’s always a lot of fun. I love everything about Germany. The people:
fantasy
reality
the party atmosphere…
fantasy
reality
… the food…
fantasy
reality
… the everything. I’m looking forward to this lil holiday so much! Time to whack on my dirndl, blow off some steam and go mental with the most efficient of party animals.
Don’t miss me too much xX
Meet Carissa www.instagram.com/carisssssa
I wish they all could be California girls
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.
housemate wanted
digital imologue 