Champagne Dance Update!

I really don't need to say anything, but I will anyway. This night provides for all: For the for the ravers, who feel like they could have danced all night?! (And girls, not because your feet feel numb 'cos you're drunk?) For the Dutty Winers and the Soca Shockers (of which I am both!) For the ballers that think they're Stevie Wonder with their stunnas on in the UV light (I just don't get it!) For the 'wish they were hip hop candy girls,' there's nuff room to practise the catwalk - so the ladies can hate on your outfit, and the guys can skin teet' and take in the view. Come off it, you know that's why you're wearing THOSE shorts. Don't pretend you don't want the attention! For the guys on a 'let me chill and be extra scaffolding for the club' vibe. Just the right amount of sophisticated ladies and upstanding brothas (no hoochies or follow fashions allowed!). Like I told, you serious event! I don't put my name to FLOPS! Keep checkin the site for more info. Feel free to get in touch with any questions, outfit ideas (!), directions, anythin. See you on the 31st!

More things you will never hear people say...

You will never hear a man say: "We're out of the premiership league. That's a shame, but there are more important things in life."

You will never hear a man say: "Why don't we have a salad for dinner?"

You will never (and SHOULD never) hear a man (or anyone) say: "I'm stuffed!" (After one plate at a buffet). You will never hear a black woman say: "A little salt, some pepper. Right, that's the chicken seasoned." You will never hear a woman say: "This bag and these shoes don't match. Oh Well." You will never hear ANYONE say (outloud): "Do it yourself!" To anything that a parent asks. And if you do... boy, you're brave. Stupid, but brave. AND as much as the men can fantasise, you will never hear a woman say: "No baby, that's cool. Finish the pro evo tournament, I'll see you tomorrow instead."

You will never hear a woman say, 'I'm bored of shopping!'

Was it a rave gone bad? No. A racist riot? No. Welcome to the opening of Primark, Oxford Street. The first thing I would have asked is, why aren't these pickney's at school, then I remembered it was the easter holiday (hmm...I wonder if they rassed themselves up like this to go to church on Good Friday?). My second train of thought was how severe times have got, if this was some people's version of a day out - see pic one, the girl next to the red jacket with a plastic fork in her mouth-she weren't missing breakfast for no one! Then my thoughts turned to the poor security guard who thought he'd suddenly been transported to some bait prison riot in Kingston, Jamaica - again see pic one with a lonely bald head in the corner, fecklessly fending off a million hardcore shoppers. But hang on a minute? Are there not how many primark's in the ends? The likes of Peacocks and Prmark have been around for time, why the sudden hullabaloo? Selfridges must have been pissed. See guys, shopping is a sport! You know from this photographic evidence, that you will never hear a woman say, 'I'm bored of shopping.'

The way I see it... (Haven't you ever made a mistake?)

Where's the power in being physically exposed? To me that shows Your mind's been overload-ed With the lies in the videos. And since when did sex become love? Love comes after sex We're confused Like which came first, the chicken or the egg? Funny I thought love came from the heart Not from the head. Went round to watch a DVD Ended up in his bed. God never gives us more than we can handle But flipped - He never gives us more responsibility Until we prove we're worthy of it. I'm on the same roundabout Just in a different bed. I know I shouldn't be here But he said he liked my legs. And my back off But he won't back off 'Til he gets what he's after Then he smokes a zoot after. 'Cos that's what I need to hear 'Cos it's my biggest fear Not to be loves 'Cos I already don't love me Why should I? When negativity is all I see When will learn? Hear my heart yearn? Stop drownin' it out with the drugs up my snout? Bussin' low batties with low self esteem to match. But at least I match Everyone else right? So no one can pick me out In a line From left to right. 'Cos I'm shook you see Say they see my individuality? See the real me? The 'me' that God created? The 'me' that stays understated Because of what they might say And what they might think. 'Cos the world rules our minds and our bodies Even though we may not agree And it's so much easier to be a shade of grey Than a pink or a blue or a green. And it's so much easier to be a shade of grey Than a pink or a blue or a green But I'm tellin' you, Have faith the size of a mustard seed 'Cos it can move mountains And even change you and me Seen?

Arrrghhhh!!!

The above is the only way possible to explain the rage I am persistantly feeling. I am pissed. Why? I hear you ask? Since when did the UK become the extension of the US? I know Tony's all up in George's grill, but really and truly, lets have a little pride shall we?! Don't get me wrong I went to Miami and it was great. And I cannot wait for the day when someone blesses me with the funds to do Barney's some serious damage (hint: my bday is in August, all donations greatly appreciated). But the Americanisation of British tv is DOING MY HEAD IN. Firstly, can someone please tell me what the reason is for Cat Deeley's existence on American Idol? She's like a f**kin' parrot, unecessarily repeating what Ryan Seacrest just said. What? Do I suddenly not understand english? I know they say stupid things like sidewalk and pronounce everything phonetically (ie. EYE RACK= iraq), but come on, give me some credit. Secondly, remaining with Idol, why does it take another 45-minute programme for them to announce who's going home (even though it's jarring me that Sangya is still there. He's like the American Chico)?

Thirdly, and most annoying: US-style adverts. Imagine the scenario if you will. I've just rushed through everything that I have to do so I'm sitting comfy in my bed, ready for Desperate Housewives. We get past the l'Oreal ad, they kindly bring me up to date about what happened last week and then... another l'Oreal ad. What the...?

Lord, why oh why, did you provide some dimwit with the idea to have a break right after the beginning titles? And to add insult to injury, one right before the credits? Sort it out mate...

The Man, the Bitch and Me

The Imaginary Man is my biggest critic. He pinches my love handles and laughs. Prods my cellulite and scoffs. Doubles over at my provocative efforts. 'Ha ha! Stop please! Your desperation is too funny!' The Imaginary Man Predicts me like a text 'message recieved' You're wasting your time. Obviously. My mind runs the marathon and before I can stop to take breath I'm there. Mental Captivity. The silent bitch speaks a language with her eyes. A prolonged stare an 'I thought she glared' Each flicker of an eye, delivers another diminishing blow. I'm the only one that understands what the silent bitch says. Obviously. Solemn torture. Each blow given by me delivered back to sender.

I need to be free

Emancipated from me.

Monday Blues? More Monday Snooze

Oh the semi-depressive life of a graduate! Don't wory, you've all got it to come! Everyone else has plans for a kayaking trip in Bali or a round the world bungee jump tour and you have... I hope the silence speaks volumes! It's cool, just working evenings or whatever for the first few months. Then you see the ever helpful reminders for the SLC that you have a £16k + debt looming over head, and the banks who so lovingly wooed you with railcards, popcorn makers, ipods and money, now start calling you the polite version of a 'rahtid likkle teef' and you're left to think, uni did not prepare me for this! Call me naive, because it's true in this case. I was just looking at the short term. Uni was prolonged adolescence with a Visa. Great stuff! So while I lie in on a monday morning and avoid rush hour, I'm left to think about friends who have spent 6 months finding shitty bank jobs or even shittier roles as RECRUITMENT CONSULTANTS (did I really apend three years at uni to help someone else find a better job than me? skht). The constant money, the routine, the suit, a whip all make my shabbily-assembled gap year look like, well, a shabbily - assembled gap year. Don't get it twisted, I'm dilligent in anything I put my mind to, so I could just get on with it, but I'm on the cusp of something new - higher responsibilty. I get the job and I feel hot with myself, get a car, insurance, couple credit cards, swap primarni for armani, a few holidays, a time-share, a yard - but then that's it - I'm gripped by the system, giving thanks for 23 days off a year ....and then I stop and think. I've got 40+ years of the 9 to 5, so let me take five, let the creditors keep going to voicemail, stop watching everyone else's situation and just give thanks that I'm in a position where I can take this time to really indulge my dreams and think of what I wanna do. Really, want to do. And I advise you hit snooze and do the same.

Champagne Dance 2007

Champagne Dance proper noun Shower, live, on point, serious, bashy, boom, heavy, brap, the shit.

Whatever your lingo, know that this night will be one of the best this summer.

More details coming soon.

Sash x