Marks And Spencers make really nice sandwhiches....

It true they really do. Today has been like a spiritual journey of enlightenment (I am now a positive, vibrant person with, for the first time since I was born, no impending sense of doom, oncoming disaster etc etc) and discovery. My most exciting discovery being that of the really really very good sandwhich selection in the Marks And Spencers quickstop in Leeds train station. Anyway, far more interesting things have happened today then my purchasing of sandwhiches, mainly, the sudden and bizarre realisation that I spent a proportional amount of my day today clad in stockings, suspenders and a 20" corset straddling a large antique horse saddle, brandishing a whipping rod and smoking a large cigar (and getting paid to do so). When did my life become so very surreal? Today I have met an ex-olympic rower, an irate Virgin rail employee with an explosively short temper and a strange man selling weed for a ridiculously discounted price. The joys of train travel. I should at this point make it clear that I did politely decline the generous offer of one quid spliffs from a random chav on a train but if anyone is interested he is small dark haired fella who lives somewhere in Oxford. Strange days. The countdown to my creative directorial debut is still on and I am feeling positive in the fact that nobody has come down with malaria or forgotten who the fuck I am. It is looking quite possible that it might go really well and I am also working on a new project that I am not currently at liberty to divulge. So while you're waiting for me to divulge I suggest you go immediately to Marks and Sparks and buy yourself a sandwhich - as long as it's not the tuna. That's shit.

Like buses....you wait for one.....

After spending so much time fretting that I can never seem to find enough work, this next week will see me busy busy busy and trawling around the country armed with a crossword book and a suitcase full of spandex, lycra and ankle warmers. I will be visiting Leeds, Birmingham, Manchester, London, several places nobody else has ever heard of and that don't feature on any maps and most importantly of all Brighton, hurrah, which means I get to see the man and fill my brief moments of peace with sexual frenzy and lust, which I can then relate to you in some degree here. Happily nearly all the models working with me on my upcoming project have confirmed to say they have neither broken their nails or been attacked by terrorists. Anyway, the main purpose of my entry today is to tell you how shocked and happy I am to find that people are actually reading my blog despite its lack of scandal or interesting anecdotes. So thankyou to the people who have complimented my writing style and to those of you who are continuing to read this. It really does inspire me to carry on and to find something interesting to write about, hopefully the coming weeks will supply me with some train journey related epic which I can regale you with, for as we all know the most varied and interesting people use national rail, although you can bet your ass Richard Branson doesn't.

The saga that was......

Well still nothing particularly interesting has happened to me for me to write about, but I feel duty bound to contribute something to this blog lest I forget it exists. It does seem that as soon as I started this, all the interesting things that happen to me on a regular basis have stopped happening. Nobody has provoked me into verbal warfare on any of my varied Myspace accounts, I haven't had any particularly spectacular job offers and I haven't had a tramp stroke my hair lovingly on a train for months. True story, I'll tell you about it sometime. Actually I'll tell you about it now - once I was on a train heading home from a shoot when a small bearded lady started stroking me like a cat until her carer showed up. Then allowed her to continue. No, it really isn't that exciting a story. I have to put my new found dullness down to actually being quite content with life at the moment - I'm no longer filled with the raging desire to cause drama. That being said I do get the feeling this may be the calm before the storm, the calendar shoot being only a few days away and what with going on a whirlwind tour of the UK in the run up to the event itself I am sure that fifteen seconds before my debut as creative overlord one of the girls will email me and tell me that she's been kidnapped by terrorists who have broken all her nails and now none of the girls can turn up. I'm terribly paranoid about the whole thing.
Speaking of paranoia, my like, totally crucial shoot was like, totally amazing. It was refreshing to meet somebody truly candid about this industry as opposed to the millions of wannabe footballers wives who rock up and rock out on the same wave disappointed not to have reached Jordan style fame by whinging pitifully about it. Speaking of whom (whining wannabe wags not Jordan, before the legal team pick this up) I have decided I am no longer dolling out my words of sage wisdom and experience to newbies. Because apparently all new internet models suffer from what is known as sycophantic deafness, an illness in which the sufferer only hears sentences that start and end with - you're gorgeous innit? Anyway, this week I am mostly going to be frequenting network rail transport services and playing Mah Jong, which I have just rediscovered. Please keep reading my blog if you have been doing so, I hope that next time I can make an entry detailing wild orgies and lust fuelled sex romps. But until then, try Mah Jong, it really is very good.

Who said this was glamorous?

So like tommorow, I like totally have this like, totally crucial shoot. Seriously, I do mean totally crucial because not only is the photographer for tommorow reknowned for being brilliant but also for being particularly discerning when it comes to booking models and I am not of the usual ilk. So I have a lot to prove. Baring this in mind when I should be having a relaxing night filled with bubble bath and mineral water flavoured with lemon, my body decides to go into supreme meltdown at the very thought of anything at all. Drinking several caffeine drinks within the first few hours of the day got me off to a very dismal start, so it was crazy lady time at the mundane office job this morning. My leg muscles are spasming wildly out of control, probably because they haven't seen a treadmill in over a year but none the less, my whole body's refusal to cooperate with my preperations have me on the very edge of the edge. Tommorow is crucial because tommorow is the day I start the plans for my next business project, the set up of my fine art agency, which is a corner of the market as of yet undominated. This will be the next big step in my progression from lowly part time internet model to world wide industry tycoon. It will, in theory, follow the success of my first published shoot as a model and creative director on the 28th of this month. Which means for the next three weeks I will be relying mainly on red bull, cigarettes and the patience of my family lest the cheese finally slide completely from my cracker. The operation has been planned with military precision being that this is the first time in my career I am responsible for an entire project from casting to printing to promoting to publishing and if it doesn't work out I am going to look like a complete tool. So at the risk of looking like perhaps I have had one glass of wine tonight when I arrive at work tommorow I am going to have one glass of wine, and like, totally chill. Totally. Later dudes x

Losing my blog virginity.......

I am sure that losing my blogging virginity will be much like anybody else losing any other kind of virginity - it will be a lot better in my head then it is on paper (or screen) - anyway this is my first attempt at this so either bare with me or feck off. I have decided to create this blog because as far as I am aware, the point of a blog is so that an interesting person with an interesting life can share what makes them so special with the other less special people who don't have blogs. I don't really think I am that interesting, but I do have interesting life. I am a model. Please don't confuse me with a mowdel which is something commonly found being spit roasted by footballers and something I have no wish to associate myself with. I am the very proud parent of a beautiful three year old rockstar who spent a large portion of today putting cheese in my nose. The cheese is now removed. This is the first of my many reasons for writing this blog, because I am living incarnate proof that baring a child does not make you ugly. I have massive scarring on my body but still sustain myself as a model. I travel all over the country and I guess to some extent the world doing my job, which I love, and no, I am not stupid. I am extremely intelligent - I have qualifications in childcare, psychology, music and studio technology. If at any point this blog starts to meander then I apologise, which brings me neatly on to my next reason for writing it. I have after many years of telling people without effect that I have something wrong with my head I have been diagnosed with having something wrong with my head - nothing major so don't feel like by reading this you are intruding on the psyche of a crazy lady. I have spent my entire life being at times, unable to control my emotional reactions. I am intensely happy, depressed, angry or reflective, which makes me a temperamental artist. I am published as a writer and lyricist. Because of my inability to hold down a normal job I am entirely independent and self reliant on myself for income, at times, like now I have a part time mundane office job which keeps me ticking over the quiet times. This explains why I currently live in a large packing crate in my parent's dining room while I search for a new place to live, this blog will partially be about my search for the perfect new home.

Anyway, I plan to keep this blog going as an account of what happens to me in my so called model life, please enjoy it, toy with it, but remember to call it three days later otherwise it will get the hump and think it's fat. Thanks for reading, I promise next time to be more concise and more importantly, interesting.

x