Too Drunk To Blog
Okay, so it's not Monday. And as much as I don't want to be the girl who starts every blog post with 'oh, sorry you guys, it's been so long' etc, it's the truth. I am sorry. I'm just weak.
I have these friends, you see. And they corrupt me in ways that I cannot justify. For some reason, I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time away from my home, enjoying many dissipated and unproductive hours away from my computer and failing to communicate with those I love from afar.
First, there's the friend formerly known as Mr F, because I couldn't think of anything better to call him. We've finally come up with a name, and it suits him perfectly. He loves the pub almost as much as I do, but he has a disconcerting (and hilarious) habit of falling asleep as soon as we get home. So from now on, he will be called Rip Van Winkle. He's awake now, but not for much longer.
Then there's Dr Evil. He lives in a fabulous flat, a huge warehouse studio just outside of central London where we have spent countless hours drinking, talking and dancing the night away. He is known as Dr Evil because he is the single most corrupting influence in my life at present. An innocent afternoon at a local pub, having a wholesome Sunday roast, becomes a night of debauched revelry whereupon I find myself catching the tube home at 7am to shower and change for work, simply because I am unable to resist his entreaties to stay: "jLo! You can't go home now! We're going to watch movies and have pizza at my house!" Oh, okay, Dr Evil. Lead the way.
My arm isn't rubber, it's jelly.
And there's Madam Fox. She is hella foxy, funny and smart and a most excellent dancer. I wish you could all meet her. She's the awesome.
So, right now, when I had planned to be at home, having had my delightful roast lunch, updating my blog and answering email, I am instead at the lair of Dr Evil, where I spend too many nights per week to even mention. I walked in, he handed me a beer. When I said I felt like writing, he handed me a laptop and told me to go for it. This is as close to heaven as I have right now.
It's been a good day, you know. I really do have a lot to tell you. Valencia was great fun (I'll post photos soon), I'm moving into a new flat (with Rip van Winkle, just down the road from Dr Evil), the feather-hat-macaroni thing is right there on the wikipedia once you have the motivation to look. Today I spent the morning chatting with the lovely J, The on the skype, then adjourned to a fantastic pub, now I'm sitting on the floor in a cool studio, about to head out to the balcony to watch the London skyline at dusk.
This is a great town, and I really like it here. I wish I wrote to you all more often, but there's not much more than that to say.
I have these friends, you see. And they corrupt me in ways that I cannot justify. For some reason, I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time away from my home, enjoying many dissipated and unproductive hours away from my computer and failing to communicate with those I love from afar.
First, there's the friend formerly known as Mr F, because I couldn't think of anything better to call him. We've finally come up with a name, and it suits him perfectly. He loves the pub almost as much as I do, but he has a disconcerting (and hilarious) habit of falling asleep as soon as we get home. So from now on, he will be called Rip Van Winkle. He's awake now, but not for much longer.
Then there's Dr Evil. He lives in a fabulous flat, a huge warehouse studio just outside of central London where we have spent countless hours drinking, talking and dancing the night away. He is known as Dr Evil because he is the single most corrupting influence in my life at present. An innocent afternoon at a local pub, having a wholesome Sunday roast, becomes a night of debauched revelry whereupon I find myself catching the tube home at 7am to shower and change for work, simply because I am unable to resist his entreaties to stay: "jLo! You can't go home now! We're going to watch movies and have pizza at my house!" Oh, okay, Dr Evil. Lead the way.
My arm isn't rubber, it's jelly.
And there's Madam Fox. She is hella foxy, funny and smart and a most excellent dancer. I wish you could all meet her. She's the awesome.
So, right now, when I had planned to be at home, having had my delightful roast lunch, updating my blog and answering email, I am instead at the lair of Dr Evil, where I spend too many nights per week to even mention. I walked in, he handed me a beer. When I said I felt like writing, he handed me a laptop and told me to go for it. This is as close to heaven as I have right now.
It's been a good day, you know. I really do have a lot to tell you. Valencia was great fun (I'll post photos soon), I'm moving into a new flat (with Rip van Winkle, just down the road from Dr Evil), the feather-hat-macaroni thing is right there on the wikipedia once you have the motivation to look. Today I spent the morning chatting with the lovely J, The on the skype, then adjourned to a fantastic pub, now I'm sitting on the floor in a cool studio, about to head out to the balcony to watch the London skyline at dusk.
This is a great town, and I really like it here. I wish I wrote to you all more often, but there's not much more than that to say.
posted by jLo at 6:58 PM
3 Comments:
Not sure that moving in with Mr F and near Dr Evil will be good for your liver, it will certainly be good for your soul (maybe).
We took J,The to a great pub last night also.... and yes they played 'like a prayer' country style once more. Miss you my dear...
It. Was. Awesome. That band now has a very special place in my musical memory. It was great talking to you too jLo - but you know that already. Until the next time, I throw the full weight of my support behind more Dr Evil experiences. He sounds like the kind of friend every nice girl (and blogger) should have.
Aw, you guys, here I am posting about how much I'm enjoying London at the moment, then you make me all Melbourne-sick for the Marquis and the magnificent WAGONS!
I was there with you in spirit. Am so glad they played Madonna...
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