Attention : Mystery in Summer Bay

I have just seen an article headed 'Is there another baby Borat on the way for Isla and Sacha?', and scattered with picture titles such as 'Baby on board?' and 'Something to tell us?'

Well, forgive me for being presumptuous, but unless Isla fisher is wearing a cushion under her clothes as a joke (two days on the trot, the prankster), I'd say with some certainty that she is, in fact, with child.

Are they blind???


Big Lunch?


The plot (and waist) thickens...

Idiots.

Procrastination Predicament...

Today I have had quite a bit of work to do but, since I am still getting back into the swing of budgets and goal-formulation (like at school when you went back in September and had forgotten how to write), I have also been finding any available distraction to ensure that my productivity doesn't peak too soon.

For the past half an hour or so I have been attempting to answer the following 'would you rather..'-esque (best classroom game ever) question and, since I haven't been able to make a decision yet, thought that I would put it out there for your own deliberation.

So, would you rather have an impeccable, hollywood star-after-boot-camp, smoking hot bikini body for one summer only, but after which time you don't know how or when it will deteriorate, OR an average mid-size, but bit soft and wobbly, figue that won't change either way for the rest of your life??

Hmmm, I just can't decide. While having the celeb body to parade about with would be super-exciting and might help you meet hotties beyond your wildest dreams while feeling confident and happy in your own skin, you wouldn't want to meet a shallow partner who then dropped you the next year once your look had inevitably faded and been replaced with a winters-worth of pizza, warming roasts and festive beverages directed straight to your middle (it's happened to the best of us). Then again, I'd like to think that I wouldn't be so stupid as to fall for someone who wasn't in it for more than my limited-edition body, and had no interest in me beside physical attributes, and if I declined would I get to 60, knowing that my prime bikini days are over, wishing that I'd taken up the chance to enjoy one beach-season in a body that ticked every box?

Shallow discussion? Yes, but still I find myself wondering whether I'd opt for...

A) The athletic abs of Kelly Carlson of Nip/Tuck (I didn't choose this because of her sex-face, I just googled 'Amazing beach body' while researching, and she was one of my favourites.)


or B) Kim Kardashians feminine curves and flat stomach.

Its a biggie. Guess I'll have to do my spreadsheets later.

Cat in the Hat - Update!

Some regular readers may remember my big decision from last week with regards to my Dr Suess-style summer dress purchase.

Well, the article had a massive response (two people mentioned it to me), so I thought I'd let you know that following much soul-searching and deliberation, and the discovery that not only do I have underwear issues with it, but that it also clearly reveals the lesser-liked tattoo of yesteryear on my 'lower back' - I have opted to keep it!

This was really never in doubt, was it...

Bang Tidy? No, you're alright...

So... the eagle memory-d among you may remember that while in Andorra for The Big Snow Festival I was cruelly subjected to the task of being 'bang-tidy' for an afternoon of photographic fun with 'The Boy from Loaded'.

Its taken just over a week for me to go from initial publication mortification to acceptance. But now, I've decided that while I may not have particularly enjoyed the impromptu 'shoot', or the initial horror of realising that said Boy wasn't just lying about using them to make us feel special - I am embracing my once-in-a-lifetime chance at having a bizarre set of photos included on a legitimate 'lads mag' website (magazine pending... I may not take that one so well!), without being 'one of those girls' who sends them their own...


After all, what grandchild wouldn't want to be told about this by their nan?!

Channelling Dr Seuss

It doesn't take a genius to work out that there is a direct correlation between my usual end-of-winter poverty and my complete lack of self control. This is why, despite not having enough money at present to afford a decent haircut or use anything but Tesco own-brand facial wipes (however surprisingly good for the skin they may be) I purchased the following item, among others, from Topshop, on the extra-urgent-emergency credit card;



It isn't very 'me', it is a peculiar length, it's a little too small as they only had the size below, I doubt it will be very practical in Greece, it's only flattering when standing up as sitting down shows that I remain the least-toned person I know, my sister claimed that it was reminicent of 'The Cat in the Hat' (I give it two weeks until a request to borrow it occurs..) and I haven't made a final decision yet on whether it will stay in my company to the stage of wearing and tag-removal.

And yet, I REALLY want to keep him...

French Maids or Monopoly?

It was with some horror that the subject of this post was introduced to me by a friend recently and, in the spirit of ensuring a fair trial was given to the concept, I have just undertaken about 5-10 minutes of solid research (including an article in The Independent) - which therefore deems this virtual hard-hitting journalism.

My mind has been made up. I NEVER want a Hag Party.

So the reporting of others tells me, the days when a last-night-before-the-rest-of-your-life binge ended in a headache at best, or the British consulate liberating the bridegroom at worst, are numbered. Hen and stag parties are going co-ed. The traditional single-sex shindig is being replaced, for all but the youngest couples, by mixed, more sedate, outings attended by friends of both the bride and groom.

Now, as someone with a number of good male friends, all of whom I love going out with, I can see how this has arisen - especially in the instance where the Brides friends are shared with the Groom, or that a girlfriends partner has become part of the gang. However, there is a big difference between organising a shared night of celebration for both parties (or else whats the reception?!), and inviting your future spouse to join in the fun (/be horrified by the carnage) of your last night as a 'single' girl.

According to Dean Yardley, managing director of online wedding forum Hitched.co.uk, the rise in the average marriage age and the increasing phenomenon of female "best men" have both had a huge effect on the rise of the Hag. Yardley said: "Couples choose less adrenaline-filled weekends but split up during the day, maybe golf for the men and pampering for the women. Groups are perhaps a dozen or so of either sex and they'll meet up again in the evening and go to restaurants and clubs."

To me, the above ideas actually sound like alot of fun, and an enjoyable way to spend a weekend with friends. But as a weekend away or a random trip, not as my swansong to the days of ticking the 'Miss' box. And herein lies the problem...

I have been spoilt, and this is manifesting itself in two ways with regards to my views on the rise of the Hag;

Problem 1) Over the past years I have been lucky enough to go away with various groups of friends on weekends away, extended holidays, mini-breaks, nights out across the country, trips to european party-hotspots and in the meantime spent half of the year working in resorts which lend themselves nicely to the pursuit of a decent night out or two*. So when it comes to my own see-off into matrimony the bar has, unfortunately, been raised to near-impossible heights. Fancy dress? Check, Strippers? Check, Lap dance (received not given)? Check, Seeing incredible bands and DJs in Ibiza's various so-named super clubs? Check, A best friend flying in with presents ready to party? Check, Celebrity 'bumps'? Check (Late night hotdogs? Check Check Check) - and that was just my birthday week last year.

So you see? I, as per so many of those who I would want to spend that occasion with, am a tough crowd. So, while it can be said that 'its not where you are, but who you're with' (which I do agree with on the whole) - I'm afraid that 'Alton Towers and board games**' (a GENUINE Hag suggestion I have just come across) with the whole crew just won't cut it for me on that one special day.

Problem 2) (aka The root of the issue) On many of the occasions and trips mentioned above I was in the company of various members of the afore-noted circle of male friends. While I am aware that some of the boys I tend to socialise with are of a certain moral-less ilk, I am also aware that what I have learnt from being their friend will play a major factor in my non-Hag stance, and here is why;

If, as a couple, me and my betrothed agreed to have a hag...I have no doubt in my mind that my delightful husband-to-be will just have a stag anyway! Maybe this would suggest that I go for the wrong type of man, and that I should be spending my days seeking a nice boy who will happily wave goodbye to batchelorhood by trading small plastic houses for paper money with my nearest and dearest girls. But then I'd have to spend the rest of my life with him, and I'm not sure thats really so me. While I'm not suggesting that I would want a man who spends the next 60years after we say 'I do' sneaking around after other women and getting lapdances 'because its the weekend', I understand that on that notorious night, surrounded by a costumed team of rowdy and intoxicated friends, nipple tassles are half-expected. Personally, I'd rather be able to hear the stories and cringe along with the antics (not all obviously because 'what goes on tour... blah, blah, blah') while wondering what I've let myself in for than be lied to about 'a night out with the lads' after the Hag, when I'm missing out on the one time you can legitimately cover yourself in cock-related paraphernalia without people asking questions.

As a girl who once received a boyfriend's one phone call from a Polish jail telling her that his 'naughtier friend' had accidently brought home a hooker instead of a charmed and willing lady, and that they may need to stay a couple more days the day before I left the country for five months having given the immortal instructions 'enjoy yourselves, but please don't get arrested before I leave', you may think that I would be against the Stag do tradition and all that it appears to be growing into. However, despite the last minute drama and necessary groveling that occurred as a direct result of that trip, I continued to encourage the same Boy to attend any other Groom's good-byes, as it meant that I had free reign for my girly holidays throughout the year - a perk that I would never want to be jeopardised by jealousy or insecurity, and an example of the importance I place on retaining ones independence in even the closest of relationships.

Recently a couple of my closest girls made it clear to me that, when their time comes, they would be horrified by the attendance of a naked oily man at their hen-do and do not want to be sashed and veiled for the amusement of a braying crowd. Maybe a sophisticated and stylish Hag night would fit the bill better in those cases, and certainly I'm not berating the idea itself as everyone is different. However, while I'm not attempting to sell myself as a classless floozy who is stuck in the 90's***, I am sure that when my time comes I wont be satisfied with a night spent partying with my man - thats what the rest of our lives will be for****.



*Please note, I've also worked super-hard.
** And I LOVE board games.
*** A legitimate reason why I don't see a hen OR hag in my imminent future, irrelevant of my preferences?? Food for thought, indeed!
**** I'm nothing if not positive.

A Friend Was Born, A 'Saviour' Died - I Showed My Appreciation......

So, having been no-doubt enthralled by my pre-Easter weekend countdown of preparation and lounging around based achievement, I will now follow that up with a list of what occured on the weekend itself. The list is, as always, not inclusive as, like Samantha informed her own circle about Carrie's apartment in SATC - "alot of shit went down...."

So here it is - how to go from THIS...


...to THIS


...Mostly due to THIS...


In 20 simple steps!

1) Myself and Clark Kent travelled smoothly and happily to Peterborough in the Easter sunshine and checked into what turned out to be an unexpectedly nice hotel
2) I watched about 5 seconds of revolutionary '3D Sky football', and decided that it was average because I didn't have to seemingly dodge a rogue ball flying out at me, as I had imagined(/hoped).
3) I, amazingly, stuck to my self imposed 2 Magners daytime drinking limit, while those around me got stuck in. (I knew I'd never be able to get dressed up if I had any more due to the recent revelation that I can't drink copiously any more)
4) I ate a large and delicious McDonalds meal - solely in the interests of carb-ing up for later, you understand.
5) I back-combed my hair to within an inch of its life until it stood up on end, Russell Brand stylee, used at least half a large can of tressemme hairspray and created what will forever to be known to me as 'my once in a lifetime BIG HAIR do'.
6) I donned a confusing Wonder Woman/Super Girl hybrid costume (so described because it was clearly WW, and yet the belt declared 'S'. Two hilarious party go-ers, one incidently a boss of mine, suggested it may mean 'Slag'. Theres an HR case there somewhere I'm sure...) and joined my Care Bear friend to join a bizarre group of walking, talking 80s Cartoons and Superheroes in the hotel bar before making our way to the venue.
7)Attended a 30th Birthday party which will forever go down as the most competitive fancy-dress event the world has ever seen. The costumes were immense and the prizes hotly contended, with top prize going to a pair of well crafted Poddington Peas (my Care Bear chum didn't fare so well, although her 'worst costume' medal was worn proudly for the next 36 hours straight AT LEAST, it was only that I didn't see her after that, she could well still be wearing it....)
8) Drank ALOT of tequila.
9) Left the party as the doors shut behind us, moving on to the Boro's hottest carpeted nightspot with Tweety Pie, Sylvester, Rainbow Brite, Jerry (of Tom &.. fame), Spiderman and The Silver Surfer, as you do...
10)...And abandoned said hotspot shortly after when the bizarreness of the venue turned out to be just too much.
11) Got treated to a surprise hot dog. It's known among a (very) small circle that I can be very easily led once fed from a grubby-looking van.
12) Abandoned 'The Most Painful Boots EVER' and sat in the hotel bar with, by this time, a much decreased group of costumed drinkers until we realised that it was 5.30am and we were getting death-stares from the staff over the dimmed lights (meanwhile, was given pizza to seal the deal).
13) Watched the worst pay-per-view hotel porn ever made with an equally unimpressed group (just to be clear, I didn't pay and barely viewed). If you ever stay at a Park Inn hotel, don't bother.
14) Made my way the next morning to Leicester to further my Easter adventures at the annual eggstravaganza (sorry) that is Bonnet Day, while nursing a not unbearable hangover and downing Lucozade.
15) Got the convoy lost after claiming my AA routeplanner would solve all directional issues. "Ooh, just follow me...". Idiot.
16) Ate an extraordinary Sunday lunch at The Almanak in Highgate. If you're in the area, I thoroughly recommend. The creamy leeks, massive yorkshire puddings and mini-egg cheesecake were all notable highlights.
17) Drank non-stop, steadily and excessively for hours, trailing Leicester's finest and grubbiest bars while singing rugby-tour songs and trading ridiculous headwear with the Bonnet crew of 2010. Played darts, instigated an 'accidental' dart attack which drew blood, made friends with old women, sang kareoke and wore a 'caution wet floor' sign within my jeans, which I later successfully managed to convince the doorman I had brought from home.
18) Got officially asked to BE A BRIDESMAID! (see below post for details...) and celebrated a very special engagement.
19) Left only when the police intervened (which was only a matter of time), used my largest friend as a shield from the cold while we hid round the corner on a wall, got a taxi home and stopped for a burger (because no-one likes change...).
20) Returned home the next day feeling bruised, hungover, bloated, a bit sick - but as content and happy as one can after a fabulous and frivolous weekend which I hope can be repeated AT ONCE!

Good work to all those involved! x