I’m DYING!

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OR: I’ve got a bit of a head cold.

My head more or less exploded into a cloud of sn*t and tears yesterday, between leaving my front door and arriving at work, (approximately twenty five minutes including an emergency visit to the pharmacy en-route).

I don’t know why, but I seem to get colds in the front of my head only.  Really.  From my eye sockets forward, which I happen to think is a little weird. I call it ‘front head (otherwise known as my face) cold syndrome’.  And, to make things worse, I get mangey cat symptoms in my left eye only, like when they get all old and dribbly.  You get the idea, I am a beautiful, glowing picture of health.

Annie P after work today. It was a bad day.

Annie P after work today. It was a bad day.

There’s a connection between some kind of evil cold germ colony festering in my left nostril, near the bridge, which irritates the sh*t out of my left eye rendering me Rocky-esque post film fight finale.

I don’t want to leave the house when I’m like this, so I dragged myself to work and I crawled immediately back into bed after my first class at 10am and stayed there until my next class at 3pm. I feel sorry for myself mainly because I have to look after me and I use it as an excuse to eat pizza in bed with a honey and lemon chaser and a hot water bottle on my feet.  I feel sorry for MYSELF!

Going to bed without chicken soup OR TLC *sulky pout.

p.s. Harumph.

Hurrah – the magic is back, boo – impending birthday

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Hurrah – the magic is back, boo – impending birthday.

Hurrah – the magic is back, boo – impending birthday.

Hurrah – the magic is back, boo – impending birthday.

Hurrah – the magic is back, boo – impending birthday.

My ability to do brain magic  again, slightly outweighs the stress of each approaching birthday after the big 4-0.   The official line, ‘thirty nine’ until I can no longer get away with it.

Not too shabby for Annie

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image

Champagne cocktails, Venetian masks, Porches, Jaguars, diamonds and fine art. A fake priest trying to recruit new blood to a his prostitution ring – possibly, two potential new clients, one from Russia, club guestlist from a mobile millionaire Hugh Grant-alike from Fitzrovia and an invitation to a weekend inFrankfurt from a very attractive (but married) man.

All in a night’s work for Annie P.
x

A PANKs life is never dull

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A spontaneous invitation to Excellence Life, means a quick wardrobe decisión after work and fool-proof make-up make-over.

Killer dress – check

Killer heels – check

Smokey eyes – check

Clutch full of business cards – check

Who says teaching English can’t be a luxury product??

I’ll come away with one new client. done deal.

A word to the wise

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(or inately stupid).

Right Royal Tit!

Right Royal Tit!

Justin Bieber, just because you have a big tattoo of me on your calf does not mean your recent behaviour is forgiven.  I like this particular representation of myself, it just so happens, Ecce Homo by Rubens from 1610, and  I am very flattered you wanted my face on your person.  But; you and I need to have a little chat my son about your weed-smoking, brothel-frequenting, stripper n*pple-licking, DUI antics.  You’re a role model and idol to very young people around the world.

Pray me up and let’s get you straightened  out.

Blessings

Lady Jesús x

p.s.  For disguise purposes, I have two words for you.  Chic. Turban.

PANKs know how to party

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Saturday, 22/02/2014

19:00 hours – arrive gymnasium (closes at 19:30 hours. Was not aware of that fact).
19:30 hours – leave gymnasium. Sheepishly.
19:45 hours – arrive supermarket
19:55 hours – leave supermarket with yet more pasta, pesto and red wine.
20:00 hours – shower, while downloading Hunger Games II
20:10 hours – unload washing machine, brush and mop while pasta is on.
20:24 hours – sit down in robe, with towel on head, to movie with dinner.

I can assure you all that later, I’m going to get completely and utterly loaded out of my mind with some rock stars, models and a FAMOUS footballer…..

Notes:
1. Girl crush on J-Law gets bigger every time I see her.  Ggrrrrrr…..

2. Lenny Kravitz, what is going on with your wonky eye I never noticed 15 years ago? (But I still would).

Road to recovery

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I forced myself to the gym last night to kick-start, ‘operation  lift funk’.  And I have to say, with the help of the man-mountain next to me who  was competing with  five foot, fiddy-fi kilo me*, I managed to finally begin the arduous process of dragging my sad and sorry, gym-less, pyjama-wearing, wine-coiffing, spaghetti-laden arse out of the slump I’ve been in this week.  It wasn’t easy.  I nearly cried and my whole body hurt.

I also forced myself to put some make-up and my heels on and go out for cava last night, all part of the healing process.  A real, real ordeal, but my Ikea +1, with a lot of love in her heart, helped me to stay outside my bed, in the real world where other humans reside, to combat my week-long downer.  A bit like an AA sponsor, but in completely and utterly the opposite way.

My awesome lunch date

My awesome lunch date

And today I am having lunch with Belle from Beauty and the Beast and some of her staff so I think, after some long-overdue cuddles with her and her sis, and a proper good gossip and catch up with her mum and dad, I think the road to recovering my usual pizazz ,vim, vigour and witty repartee, will be a little shorter.  The sun is shining, the music is on, I’m writing.  It’s all good.

*yeah, good job big man you beat me.  In the static elliptical trainer race.  What a hero.  But also, I must thank you very much for putting your beautifully toned arms within licking distance of me.