179. Lashing Out

21st July 2014, Guys & Dolls Parlour, Brick Lane, London

For quite a few years now I have been skipping what used to be my standard eye lash extensions for the sake of looking natural. Thankfully I have now come to my senses and realised that the natural look can be left with either ugly people or pretty 24 year olds who can still tell themselves it won't be all downhill after 25.

So back on Barbie lashes it was!

At my favourite place of prettification, the absolutely adorable eye lash pro tended to my skinny Scandinavian lashes whilst the Scandinavian in question was having an amazing nap. I kid you not, was so comfortable I most definitely snored and highly likely drooled a bit. Sometimes I do wonder why they still let me be a client there.

After waking up, my lashes are more awesome than those of most female Manga characters - I almost knocked myself out fluttering them at random strangers. I would have preferred knocking the strangers out, but hey ho!

Not sure why I stopped using extensions in the first place - but I definitely won't stop again any time soon!

That's one hell of a picky job!

178. A Sexier Kind of Butch

20th July 2014, Brick Lane, London

In a world where I tend to choose watching reruns of One Tree Hill than films of actual relevance, I can always rely on the Flatmate to occasionally force me into cultural awareness.

On this particular evening that meant Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Along with diabetes inducing amounts of Swedish candy. Whereas Flatmate is a great influence culture wise, he's not as great an influence when it comes to movie snacks.

First reaction to this movie classic; Paul Newman was freakishly hot. Like, insanely jumpable beyond Johnny Depp, Ryan Gosling and George Clooney combined. Then again, I've known this since the first time I saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and fell in love with Brick Pollitt. And now 14 years on, I still think he is one of the most beautiful men to have walked planet Earth - although I have since then realised why Brick Pollitt is an ideal crush for precisely no one at all.

Even though I hate Western movies with a vengeance - this movie seemed promising from the get go; other than Paul Newman it has the great Robert Redford and the even greater Katharine Ross (Elaine! Elaine!) in the cast, it's based on real life train robbers and it is the movie for which Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head was written for. And unlike most classics - this one didn't actually disappoint me.

The movie is fast paced - great for my ADD - hilariously funny in its' places and it has one of extremely few sassy and self sufficient female characters ever seen in a movie from the 60's. Come to think of it, you barely get that in movies today. But Etta Place lives on her own, takes care of herself and manages to look after her messy torn-between-two-men debacle without become a victim or a bimbo.

In short, I loved this film.

Now, did Paul Newman have any grandkids? Preferably male and preferably in their late 20's or early 30's? Let me know.

Yep, they made them better back then.

177. Coco Bananas Indeed

18th July 2014, Coco Bananas, Battersea, London

After my epic fail at playing ping pong at Doodle Bar, we briefly considered calling it a night. It was 1 AM after all and another day tomorrow. Then we came to our senses.

That said and done, Crazy Canadian made a phone call, put us on a list and off to Bunga Bunga we went.

So when we arrive at Bunga Bunga and they don't have our names on the list I may have kicked up a fuss... And the angry bouncer's suggestion that I had a bad attitude may not have been completely uncalled for. However, I resolved this problem by demanding to speak to every single manager in the place and threatening to cancel every future reservation at Bunga Bunga held by anyone I have ever met.

In the end one manger allowed us to queue jump based on my 'refreshing rudeness'. I knew it was only a matter of time before my lack of manners would be appreciated as the asset it truly is. My time has finally come.

As we enter the club and my hand gets stamped with Coco Bananas I suddenly understand why we were not at the list seeing as Bunga Bunga is the club next door... I felt bad about my behaviour for approximately 5 seconds. I even considered apologizing to the angry bouncer. Then there were caipirinhas and didn't really care anymore.

Although Coco Bananas are marketing themselves as a Brazilian Beach Bar in rainy London but it felt very.... Essex. In Chelsea. That alone is an accomplishment, but not necessarily a good one. 

There was nothing in this place to remotely put me in beach mode. Let's face it, the storm outside did nothing to help put me in that mode but neither did the very poor excuses for caipirinhas made by the incredibly slow bartender.

I did however get a cab home at 4 AM so clearly it wasn't all that bad. There was a lot of laughing, a lot of dancing and my Acne sandals will never be the same.

And the good news is... Bunga Bunga is still on the list!

Yep, that pretty much sums up the night.

176. Doodle Fail

18th July 2014, Doodle Bar, Chelsea, London

In this amazing London summer, it's almost criminal not to hang out in all the equally amazing outdoor spaces my lovely city has to offer.

Following a rather hilarious picnic in Battersea Park with Crazy Canadian and Co including the mandatory awkward bump ins of Chelsea residents, we headed off to Doodle Bar for continued mischief and late night frolicking. 

Once in Doodle Bar, vodka sodas in hand along with the heels I could no longer walk in - we found the aftyer school club house that could even have made me agree to stay in school a second or two after the bell rang. But seeing as the after school club of my hometown didn't serve vodka or cute Aussie backpackers I did what any cool teenager would do and hung out at my boyfriend's house playing video games instead. Yeah I wasn't really the coolest of teenagers.... Luckily, I caught up. 

As it turns out, even with a reasonable amount of vodka in me, I really do suck at ping pong. Not like in the exaggerated way I claim to suck at baking (I make to-die-for-brownies), DIY (why do it yourself when you can get someone else to do it for you?) and technology (just can not be bothered reading the manuals) - I really do suck. Big time. More than I suck at ring dips. 

The ball is just way too small. There is no way to hit it with such a teeny tiny bat. In other words, my attempted participation was not highly appreciated. In fact, the guy on my team gave me the sort of look usually reserved for fat kids attempting ballet after which he sent me off to the giant crayons and the giant drawing board. I drew Pac Mans. People thought they were flowers. Clearly I suck at drawing too.

In spite of my general sucking at being a teenager a decade after completing my teen years, when adding vodka sodas and subtracting hormonal outbursts - the whole after school activity idea, isn't too bad.

I might even make an attempt at bowling next.

I can't get my hair wet!