warmlove's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 'Do you want to be a dancer in my music video? Just slip on this bikini I found in the trash can.' #I am David Hasselhoff, King of the internet! POWERED BY PIPEX!# Better keep this quick...in t'internet cafe...nosey eyes everywhere, all around. My buddy Naomi had her baby! Wow, she is a real-live Mama! Wow. Oliver (thats the perfect name) was an emergency C-section and he was 6 weeks early so he's in an incubator and everything but Sophie tells me he's doing good. Wow. The hunt for a London-scented job continued at a really, reallly, um, Big? pace or fast pace or whatever. I was sticking those bad-boy cv's into every Tom, Dick and Leon from Brook Street's sweaty little palms! But it got to Saturday night and not even a little peck or interview to fail (not that I would fail it, but that would be better than no job!) So I went to Drury Lane that night (as you do) to some big Brazilian bar place where I was meeting up with some lovely people from the film down in Cornwall where I told the director that he reminded me of a (nice) cross between David Brent and Jeremy Beadle and he in turn, three days later (not nice) told me that I reminded him of someone (me) who was the only person he wouldn't be giving a letter of recommendation to and who he'd never work with again. Well, thats pretty irrelevant to the story, like this next bit: I went outside the bar because I couldn't find anyone, started to make a phone call when this dude walks up to me (kinda almost middleaged black dude who had a kinda Africanish accent says: 'Hello, miss(??), where are you from?' I go 'Oh, Sawlsburie, (he, he) but I'm staying in Clapham, y'know'. I wasn't going to be rude! He starts telling me about how he directs Hip-hop (?)music videos and, glancing down at my black ruffly, goth-lite meets Miami beach-wear skirt, starts saying that I'd be a good dancer in them!!!! Can I have your number to phone and hook up for these 'video shoots'. Holding back about fifteen minutes of loud gufawwing,and major cringing, I say no thanks, I'm not a dancer, I'm a Film Director(I so am not yet, but I'm closer to that than Hip-hop video dancer!!! Puuuullleassse! The dude didn't even have a showreel in his pocket! Anyway, the night was quite fun (a few people that I really wanted to see again couldn't make it - ie the guy I was accused of fancying, denied this but actually really did...He has split up with that pesky girlfriend of his too, but I'll never see him again now so fat lot of good that development is!) and we ended up in this Cornish themed bar in Covent Garden that also sold Pasties all day long!! Some Cornish magician asked if he could video me clicking my (glittery ruby ballet) pumps together and saying the obvious line...that was com-ed-y, I'll tell you, on a Saturday night!! laugh, laugh! But I got a call that night from Jessica, saying that my mum had to go into hospital, to be operated on straight away. The absess in her cheek had spread the infection throughout her entire body! Nasty, my poor Mama. So, on Sunday I got up and went straight to Waterloo to take the train home to go visit the Hospital. But I got to the cashpoint and (of course) my tight-fisted bank wouldn't let me gat any money out, so I was stranded in shite-old London! Ugggh! But my mum's absolutely fine now, she was in hospital for a while but she's back to normal (as normal as that crazy woman could be, anyway.) Soph visited me yesterday from visiting her buddy in Reading and she's so funny cos she was all like: Yeh, I'm visiting, I've booked a Hostel for the night, gonna stay til Sunday afternoon, maybe Monday...lets hit the town, go out drinking..blah, blah. We did the drinking part as soon as she got here...Soph likes her wineries, she does. But she says, of my blessed new city: London's shite,London's 'Gay', its scary, too many people...so we had a couple of glasses of wine then some lunch and a weeny bit of Ox. St. TopShop (we tried on some lush, way over-priced vintage)and she was back on her train, going home by 6pm. But thats just when the place comes alive!! Well, um, kinda. I think that Salisbury is blatantly a much more 'real' place (in a 'Jenny from the Block' way)than all the 'Homosexual' Royal Boroughs of London-town. Long story short..gotta get a job....gotta get a job...I am trying obviously, I really want one (I cant squat at my Granmas for much longer, for some odd reason, shes no fan of karioke parties til 5am, then cider and pizza for breakfast.) I need to live with people who love to squirm around in all that SIN!...the past week I've lived with onlt 50p in my purse, knowing thats all the money I've got in the world!! Now THAT is shite! I have ups and downs cos I cant do any of the things that i love to do...but bright side: The Cornish pub/pasty shop lady told me that she'd phone me for an interview! How lovely, Graaarrrgghh! 2:09 p.m. - 2006-08-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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