Saturday, 4 May 2013

big girls need big sweets


So lets say I've had an interesting couple of days. I've had my dream job taken away from me but have also seen one of the most beautiful, intelligent, brilliant women in the world and she made me feel incredible. 

Guess who?

Having seen her and therefore now being her best friend, I'm telling you. I'm pretty sure she's keeping magic in those thighs. I have never seen a group of middle class white women go crazy like they have when there was a countdown and then the trumpets for Crazy in Love come in and the place just goes mental. Fucking mental. If you've never understood feminism, or for that matter organised religion, you need to stand in a room with 20,000 women punching your fist in the air singing Survivor. I have never felt more like someone who believes in something than in that moment.

Then, this morning, me and my Mummy wake up, go to Carnaby Street, eat our wait in carbs and then I buy this.

This is from Choccywoccydoodah and is marshmallows, covered in chocolate and stuck on a stick. This was also a vaguely religious experience. I met Simone, we decided to be friends within two minutes of meeting each other, and my Mum decided to openly admit that she had named the solid chocolate scotty dog I'd bought her from there 6 months earlier, Victor. This is what Mums do when you're around cool people, they manage to make you the least cool person to have ever existed. 

In that shop you are encouraged to eat excessively, to look brilliant and to be crazy. It is a safe place with thousands of pounds worth of cake and the finest tall camp men on display. 

My life, in the last 72 hours has taken a thousand turns and when I wake up tomorrow I am going to pack everything I own and move in with two of the best humans you're ever likely to find. Everything is happening. Now. 



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