Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Don't call my name, Don't call my name.....ALEJANDRO!!
Two months...no way has it been that long...
I don't actually know where to start, ending up at the 15 spanish mens flat in Shoreditch seems to be a good place to start; that would be if i didn't run to the door as I (quite clearly) thought I was being kidnapped, encounter a chihuhua called Vita Corleone, lose my headband and meet a guy named Alejandro (Well maybe that was a good thing.) How exactly do I get into these situations? There is one reason: my crazy. Love me, love my crazy. That's the new saying girls and it's true. Anyway, whilst I thought I had met the perfect man finally; spanish accent, lets spend summer in Madrid, epic kisser and to make things even better he plays the guitar. (Which I can definitely do)...well the extent of my choons (spelt purposely in the cool gangsta way) consists of Twinkle Twinkle little star and Pretty woman (of which the second I can solely play two chords.) Well, I'm on my way along with my ballet rock dancing, expanding my sketchbook, my song writing, my travel research oh and my diet. Oh yeah, don't forget my actual work. (Note to self: why am I writing this blog when I have so much else to do? Note to self: Love me, Love my crazy UNORGANISED self.)
Anyway, hot spanish guy....my next encounter with him was not quite so hot. "Please come to my gig baby," well the baby part puts my off slightly (remember your talking to the Valentines day synic who on February 15th just happened to wake up with her Thorntons chocolates down the side of her bed along with the gossip girl boxset...I have given in, it's official; Chuck Bass is a fictional character.) Anyway, this gig...having driven half way across London to the one and the only Camden town (wow am I a changed girl these days or what? Bye bye Blair except the headbands of course.) I walk in ready for some hardcoreness (naturally)...and there everyone is meditating on the floor. In the corner of my eye I spot Vladimir (lol), Spanish's friend. Oh dear, where is he? After gossiping repeatedly about his amazing *techniques* and the evilness of his friends, he turns round. Yes, he was sitting right in front of me. FML. Yes, he was slightly less hot. FML but yes...he did *suprisingly* (which I also told him) play the guitar to a higher standard than myself. (Let's be honest though that's not saying much is it.)
Anyway, the next weeks antics will have to come at a later date....remember keep acting crazy and spontaneously (I'm off to wales tomorrow...helloo waterfall.)
But not as crazy as these girls....
*Wait that's me....and my girls...now showing our love to the world."
In the words of Example, we are the.....LAST ONES STANDING. ALWAYS
xxxxxxxxxx
I don't actually know where to start, ending up at the 15 spanish mens flat in Shoreditch seems to be a good place to start; that would be if i didn't run to the door as I (quite clearly) thought I was being kidnapped, encounter a chihuhua called Vita Corleone, lose my headband and meet a guy named Alejandro (Well maybe that was a good thing.) How exactly do I get into these situations? There is one reason: my crazy. Love me, love my crazy. That's the new saying girls and it's true. Anyway, whilst I thought I had met the perfect man finally; spanish accent, lets spend summer in Madrid, epic kisser and to make things even better he plays the guitar. (Which I can definitely do)...well the extent of my choons (spelt purposely in the cool gangsta way) consists of Twinkle Twinkle little star and Pretty woman (of which the second I can solely play two chords.) Well, I'm on my way along with my ballet rock dancing, expanding my sketchbook, my song writing, my travel research oh and my diet. Oh yeah, don't forget my actual work. (Note to self: why am I writing this blog when I have so much else to do? Note to self: Love me, Love my crazy UNORGANISED self.)
Anyway, hot spanish guy....my next encounter with him was not quite so hot. "Please come to my gig baby," well the baby part puts my off slightly (remember your talking to the Valentines day synic who on February 15th just happened to wake up with her Thorntons chocolates down the side of her bed along with the gossip girl boxset...I have given in, it's official; Chuck Bass is a fictional character.) Anyway, this gig...having driven half way across London to the one and the only Camden town (wow am I a changed girl these days or what? Bye bye Blair except the headbands of course.) I walk in ready for some hardcoreness (naturally)...and there everyone is meditating on the floor. In the corner of my eye I spot Vladimir (lol), Spanish's friend. Oh dear, where is he? After gossiping repeatedly about his amazing *techniques* and the evilness of his friends, he turns round. Yes, he was sitting right in front of me. FML. Yes, he was slightly less hot. FML but yes...he did *suprisingly* (which I also told him) play the guitar to a higher standard than myself. (Let's be honest though that's not saying much is it.)
Anyway, the next weeks antics will have to come at a later date....remember keep acting crazy and spontaneously (I'm off to wales tomorrow...helloo waterfall.)
But not as crazy as these girls....
*Wait that's me....and my girls...now showing our love to the world."
In the words of Example, we are the.....LAST ONES STANDING. ALWAYS
xxxxxxxxxx
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