‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
“All wrong, all wrong!”
Well, great. Just what you want to hear whilst naked and vulnerable on a table.
Tag Archives: london
It’s like seventh grade with bank accounts
LB and I descend into the pit down a flight of steep, wide steps and I laugh under my breath that it feels like we’re Cinderellas entering the ball. I’m not overexaggerating much. LB attracts male attention anywhere she goes and here men outnumber women at least five to one.
Get get get get over it
I am fuming. It’s half past ten on a steamy Thursday night and I’m miles from home on a terrifyingly overcrowded dark platform. The next train isn’t due for ages. The tube strike has broken London’s transport system and everyone is miserable. At least I’m not alone in that.
… like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.
London’s not burning. It’s melting.
Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong
You know what a really great dating app would do? It would scan your Google search history for all your weird musings and secret questions then match you with someone who’s been equally curious about the same things. Or, if not possible, at least match you with someone who is at essentially the same level of weirdness as you.
Drinking French, being English
I was primped to within an inch of my life: blow wave sleek, nails shellacked in inoffensive beige, Hobbs heels on, hair hidden under an equally beige hat, dressed modestly, lipstick lacquering my lips. The only hiccup was my name badge: Miss Alexander E. Alexander. I was about to go rub modestly-covered shoulders with London’s best coiffed and I was going to do so as an Alexander.
Let London swallow you whole.
“Am I dying?”
“No, it’s just London.”
Hi everyone. I’m Olaf and I like warm hugs!
I should have curtseyed.
Summer’s in the air and baby, heaven’s in your eyes
Even a girl with a such a sensible head as mine can’t help but fall lose it over. It keeps happening, all the time. I caught it happening at least a couple of times this week, this dizzying, headfirst rush.
Toto, we’re not in Africa anymore.
My resting bitch face is no longer resting.
An unsettlingly big place 