Icona Pop – I Love It

http://vimeo.com/41968073

Sensing a theme with all my musical choices for today? Hahahaha

If you can’t find a song a communicate what you’re feeling, you should wrote one

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Handsome Furs – Repatriated

So one of my favourite bands of all time is Wolf Parade an amazing band from Montreal. They reinforce my love of all bands Canadian but alas as of  May 31, 2011- the band is on an indefinite hiatus.

GUTTED!

It appears that Dan Boeckner has decided to focus his energy on his other project Handsome Furs. I’m not quite feeling it , I just thought I’d post this video to see if anyone out there was.

 

 

Sigh! Bring back ‘I’ll believe in anything’

Life!

So my quest to have a life post break up begins tonight.

I’m djing at Bob Rock’s in Greenside from 8-10pm. Please note thats 2 hours of me standing up and playing music – I’m very lazy and may make the choice to put a nice chair behind the dj booth – don’t judge 🙂

I spent a year kinda of forgetting myself and being someone else’s biggest fan, so the rest of this year is about me being selfish.

I’m pretty excited! I was so devastated about the end of my relationship last week and now all I can think about is that now my life is starting 🙂 A lot can happen in a week and I feel like a completely different person.

Learning to love myself again rocks ❤

OLD!

I woke up to a startling realisation… I’m old.

I don’t think I help myself by having a 21 year old boyfriend. Sigh!

It’s just I’m going through an insecure phase and despite being the lowest weight of my adult life, having good hair and a London wardrobe in South Africa, I’m pretty depro.

I can’t help but compare myself to all the young beautiful woman I see out. I just don’t know how to make myself feel better. It’s especially hard when your boyfriend is not comfortable complimenting.

Got job, got car, got boyfriend, got enough money to buy milk. Life should be good

Mew!

I just feel like moving back to SA has put my back emotionally five years. I feel the same insecurity I did in high school but none of the hope that its only one more year til I go to uni.

I’m sure it’ll get better once I settle down more but it’s been a year since I moved back and I’m very unsure it was the right decision.

I was so independent and self assured there and I’ve regressed in SA.

I think it’s the whole caring about someone more than yourself. I was very selfish there. I was there for friends but didn’t really open up my heart to anyone else.

When you put your heart in someone else’s hands you risk a lot and I think thats the problem.

I’ve been burned more than a few times by men and now I feel like they do this because I’m not good enough. I kinda know it’s not true but the flirting with other girls is really getting me down.

I don’t like that I leave a club after a big fight in tears and I wake up the next day to boyfriends 6 new gorgeous facebook friends. All girls at the club. I don’t get to ask because that would imply I don’t trust but theres a level of respect that says before the person you love asks why not volunteer the information.

Mew/Sigh

Insecurity is like an illness without cure

Embarrassing Moment No. 32 This Year…

A look back on my year so far ….

Embarrassing Moment No.32.   Accidental sexual harassment in the dentists office.

So I make my way to the dentist, freshly flossed teeth and breath so fresh it justifies the vigourous tooth brushing and mouth gargling I put myself through.

I settle down in the dentist chair and tense my body waiting for the pain and discomfort I know is coming. So the dentist has both his hands in my mouth and my mouth is wider than it should be , he’s cracking a few jokes and my polite laughter nearly makes me swollow my tongue but I’m thinking so far so good, the drugs he stabbed into my gums are working and maybe, just maybe this won’t be the usual painful and traumatic experience I’ve become accustomed to.

The dentist pauses to start filling the hole he just made in my tooth and I glance around the room only for my eyes to land on my crotch and the enormous bow coming out of my zipper. OMFG! The very cute underwear I put on for no other reason than it was at the top of the pile of clean clothes has made a break for it and I’ve basically got a very large very noticeable bow trapped in my zipper. How I didn’t notice when I left my house is a mystery but anyhow.

I start to sweat and casually inch my hands from my stomach to my crotch but alas my sudden movement has drawn the gaze of my dentist and with one eyebrow raised he looks between my face and my crotch. I just nervously laughed as much as I could around his hands and shrugged.

The rest of my appointment involved him looking uncomfortable and stepping away from me every time the nurse turned her back. Eventually the horror was over, I went into the hallway  and I quickly started stuffing my bow back in my jeans only for the nurse to exit the room while I was half way done. I don’t think she got that my hand was in my pants but I do think she thought I was a weirdo and I’m sure the dentist was tapping his foot impatiently back in his office waiting to tell her of my mortifying experience.

That was my last dentist appointment before I left London. I wonder if on a subconscious level I left so I wouldn’t have to face seeing them again. Probably not. I’ve had way more embarrassing things happen this month.

No Sex In The Champagne Room Or At Least My Room…

I recently had the opportunity to reconnect with an ex and I did a little happy dance at the thought of breaking the seal on months of abstinence.

I wined him and dined with a finesse most of our previous dates had lacked and we ended up at my house.

I wasn’t leaving anything up to chance and slipped on my sexy underwear and hoped for the best.

We were kissing and I could see the goal posts in the distance when he pulled away and said ‘I think we should stop. I need to get back to where I was emotionally when we dated…It’ll be more special then’  I gasped !

I initially couldn’t even verbally respond, I just glanced around the room looking for an imaginary audience who would be as shocked as I was. I mean really, I was practically naked, ready for action and he’s says no…lets wait.

I reacted like the nice girl I am and said it was all right and when he asked to hold me I suffered in silence. He finally fell asleep and I escaped the prison of his arms, rolled into a cold spot and pondered my life.

My irritation at the turn of events was baffling, especially since a guy acting put out by me saying we should wait would result in a few choice words and a kick out the door.

When did I become the guy in the relationship? Have I watched too much Sex and The City ? What happened?

A few weeks have passed now and I’m actually pretty glad he was being a wet blanket and I wonder if a few guys feel that way… a foot stamping tantrum and you realise you’ve been saved from a potentially unsatisfying experience.

I’ve never had ex- sex and perhaps I was saved by a metrosexual.

Long live men in silk scarves x

Double-Edged Sword Of Honesty

I just can’t make up my mind which is worse, men who don’t say they have a girlfriend when they do or men who slip that they have a girlfriend into conversations when the information is not at all relevant.

Most recently I was at an interview with this mid twenties guy who was looking for a video editor with mad skills to freelance. Naturally I applied 🙂 and went for the interview with the same hopeful yearning as a promiscuous girl waiting for the results of her chlamydia test to come back negative.

We were getting on like a house on fire and connecting on a friend level it usually takes a few beers to reach. No sexual tension from me because, really, I’m in an interview and this man while attractive in his own way is not my bag. I’m sure you’ll remember I like my men tall with good hair and a love of black and white mammals.

Anyway, we’re talking about my showreel and laughing about my appreciation for split screens when he suddenly says ‘My girlfriend’s coming in later’. I’m like ‘ok?’ , so I try and make his comment a little less random ‘does she like split screens?’ He replies something along the lines of ‘We’ve been seeing each other for about a year now , we met at blah blah blah so I should know but I don’t’. Again I’m stumped and suddenly feel like a third mystery person has entered the interview and is sitting to my left, right where his eyes keep fearfully darting.

Clearly he found my friendly interview persona flirtatious and was trying to let me know that he wasn’t on the market but what he didn’t realise was, I have no idea how to flirt and I’m always friendly (except when hungry)  so his comments flustered me and I ended up making a weird situation weirder, to the power of surreal.


Stupidly I decided to let him know I verbally acknowledged his not so subtle mention of his girlfriend and say that she sounded great because she loved him despite his love of U2 (which he’d mentioned earlier).


Little did I know this would open the flood gates, the rest of the interview was spent talking about his girlfriend in relation to jobs mentioned on my CV. It was so weird that when I left I didn’t even ask when I’d find out about the job I just shook his hand and walked away in a daze.


I want to know what his girlfriend did to make him the most loyal man in the world.

I suspect she tells him how many peas he’s allowed to eat with his dinner and while I appreciated his loyalty and I realise I’ve blogged about men keeping their girlfriends secret so my inner hypocrite is coming out, I just don’t think job interviews are a regular place to man hunt so men should feel a hand on the thigh before they start acting like you’re trying to make them your babies daddy.


Death by Umbrella…

Am I the only person who thinks they’ll experience death by umbrella?

This irrational fear is a new one brought about by one to many near death experiences while climbing the stairs of Highbury and Islington station. Not a day goes by without some idiot waving about their umbrella (pointy side aimed at my eye). I’ve gotten to a point where I’m skittish like a young wounded wildebeest.

Just today I nearly caused a human traffic jam avoiding being poked in the eye by an older gentleman’s umbrella. That’s not to say ‘oblivious umbrellious’ as I like to call it is a older person disease, no this disease can strike anyone down in the peak of their life, suddenly they feel the need to carry an extremely large umbrella and then swing their arms like a continental soldier, forgetting that people behind them like both their eyes just where they are.

I’ve taken to making weird sounds in response to nearly losing an eye , gentle MEWS of fear and the occasional Arghhhhh. I figure these people with their large umbrellas and no respect for human life, live in a world devoid of logic but perhaps in this world they react to sounds of fear.

I just don’t want to die by umbrella. How humiliating!

Here lies Anna-Lisa struck down in her peak by an umbrella to the eye.

Oh the shame!

People would wear umbrella broaches and a whole sensible umbrella walking campaign would be started. Though at least something good would come from my demise.

Enough of my random musings I’ll leave you with this thought…

It’s all fun and games til someone loses an eye… then it’s fun and games noone can see

Things I regret…

I’m entering the land of the quarter life crisis and while trying not to cry about how old I suddenly appear to be, I’m also trying not to cry over the mistakes I made in the 90’s . I thank my lucky stars there are few photographs to document my fashion disasters but alas all in the name of honesty I will this very night reveal the details of the biggest fashion mistake/ all around disaster night of my life.

The night in question: My matric dance… what North Americans would refer to as Prom and British people ‘I’ve never had one of those ‘.

I was so nerdy and obsessed with films I didn’t know any boys so a friend of a friend set me up with my date. He seemed okay and I met him at the Milky Lane (American equivalent Dairy Queen, British equivalent  Ben and Jerry’s) for our first meeting pre dance …we shook hands and tried to find something in common, I was all Nirvana and had just discovered Nick Drake and he was all Black Eyed Peas (pre Fergie) but he agreed to be my date so I didn’t care.

My mother drove us to the dance and all seemed okay until he refused to dance with me – fair enough for once you see this picture I’m about to reveal you’ll understand him wanting to avoid me – but later I couldn’t find him only to stumble across him tongue deep in another girls mouth. Slightly depressing but I rallied above the situation and ended up slow dancing with my friend Beverly confirming the school years suspicions I was lesbian while letting me take to the dance floor like a scene from Angus, like I’d always imagined my final school dance would be.

The night was horrible but taught me a valuable lesson, never trust your date with a slutty friend and don’t think you’re dancing to the beat of your own drum when you’re clearly drowning in a sea of individuality.

Case in point the reason why it all went tits up:

Yes I’m wearing braids and yes I’m blushing (it’s all I seemed to do in high school) and yes I was not under the influence of narcotics or alcohol …so I have no excuse but I was a bullied teen and took a page out of Madonna’s book and decided to express myself not repress myself  only I was channeling the ethnic version of myself, which alarmed not only my parents but my ethnic friends. It’s embarassing to admit this but from 16 to 18 I had braids and wore corn rows because I thought I was cool.  No amount of pleading from my friends could convince me to abandon my braids.

I’m still mortified when I think back but luckily age has brought with it a sense of humour and perhaps photographic proof for any mini-Anna-Lisa I might create in the way distant future why they should not  express themselves and definitely repress themselves.

Damn these photos will come back to haunt me but I must admit they make me laugh because I really didn’t care what other people thought.

I wonder when I started to care and how sad that I’m 20 something and still do