TOWIE cherry popped

I for the first time since the world was subjected to it 4 years ago, watched 5 mins of ‘The Only Way is Essex’.

It was painful! Now I sometimes like a bit of reality TV as for acting purposes it is brilliant to watch human behavior. When things aren’t completely scripted, catching little moments of true reaction is priceless.

TOWIE however is not! It was just painful. I feel like people who are so painfully aware of the camera are unable to ever fully let go, without it being for the cameras. I also feel so uncomfortable for the cast involved that I just felt so uneasy for the whole 5minutes that it was definitely not a relaxing experience. I don’t like being a bitch and being completely negative as that doesn’t help anyone.

<blockquote>Don’t open your mouth if you ain’t got nothin nice to say.<blockquote>

So where am I going with this? Who knows right now, my brain is like jelly. I guess my thoughts are, why is it so popular? Why do people watch it? and what is its purpose?

I have kept on the washing gloves and not felt forced to remove them to change my background noise whilst washing up with the likes of “Made in Chelsea” or even Big Brother. Although I say that and the last time I even mistakenly caught Big Brother Davina McCall was still presenting it so I shouldn’t really paint them with the same brush as it has since moved to Channel 5 and who really knows what goes on there. But my point being is that it didn’t bother me and make me so physically and mentally uncomfortable as “towie” did. Is it because I have more of a connection of people from Essex than those from Chelsea? Almost like ridiculous American soaps that Americans scorn at but we find cute? Is it that my grandma lives in Essex and I find it remotely offensive, or actually more like distressing that they have turned it fashionable to be Chavvy in the whole of Essex not just Brentwood? Who knows, I just know that I couldn’t even use it as an acting lesson. The accents are so exaggerated, I don’t even recognise it and I spent many a summer in Southend dipping in and out of the turd water down at the Sea Front with Traaayc, Weeyaes and Claiyah (tracy, wesley and Clare).

I think I’m still trying to work out why I disliked it so as normally any reference or link to  where either of my families are from gives me that warm fuzzy feeling. I love that geordie with his fabulous houses program, i used to be addicted to Biker Grove. But that may have been for another reason entirely. I blame that whole debacle on the warm fuzzy feeling the accent gave me, but lets leave that there.

Ok lost my train of thought! Again! Apologies! Again!


Anyways I guess what I’m saying is its not for me. And its not because of being a reality show. I’m not that pompous negative person.

Just the wingy moany questioning one.



Hmmmm life

I don’t know how, but sometimes life does just take one big shift. Everything isn’t suddenly miraculously perfect but…something happens and suddenly the world is a much brighter place to love than yesterday. I am starting to come to the conclusion that making changes(and I’m not meaning crunchy instead of smooth PB) does increase the positive energy, the good luck, the…I don’t know…just good shiz to start flowing in your direction.I feel like it is the universe rewarding you for taking that step forward, for being brave to make a commitment, take on responsibility. That may sound childish and stupid but I have decided to no longer be afraid to take risks and not move forward. I am taking life by the…by something and riding it till the cows come home!buddydaywm


It’s either that or literally my dog is a good luck charm.

I’m a Groupie!

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As per usual I have joined Sean Lerwill on one of his shoots for Men’s Health and Maximuscle. I have succumbed to the fact that I am a Sean Lerwill groupie. He is pretty awesome though so I’m not ashamed!

I started looking through his pics to  choose a couple for the post and realised i had been present at all of the gigs above. I am so proud of all that he has achieved. He works hard, the hardest worker I have ever met. He is kind, considerate, loyal, honest and incredibly fair. Definitely a worthy role model if ever one was choosing to follow around another. I have learnt the commando ethos from Sean behaviour as it is ever present. The only one I may help Sean with at time to time is The Cheerfulness in the Face of adversity, he can be a wingey bugger, when he hasn’t eaten.


Leave em alone!


Hmmm synicism begins to enter before I’ve even started. Am I right?

Well if you have ever heard of The Actors Temple then I’m sure you will start to sneer. The Actors Temple is an actors training centre that teaches people to act using skills and exercises devised by an american teacher called Sanford Meisner. Sanford Meisner trained in his acting days with other well known american greats such as Lee strasberg, Stella Adler and Harold Clurman.

Now I feel that the actors temple has been given a rough deal. One cannot help the effect they may have on another and should not be put down just because the affected has had the best orgasm of ones life due to the work of the affectee.

Yes I used the word ORGASM to keep you with me. Ok so basically Sanford was really just a kick ass teacher. He not only saw through the bullshit of english drama schools, teaching everyone to use intonation to get the message across but he also had the skills to rework a lesson in any which way he could to ensure that each person in the class could get it. Now he was no martyr or saint, if you were shit and were never going to get it (or for meisner trained eyes-If you were not prepared to address what was there) and i mean really shit and not very self aware or prepared to see what you try to cover up then really acting, wasn’t for you. And he would ask you to leave. Some would say that was harsh, but after being in a few classes with some very self involved bankers, and i do not literally mean bankers i just don’t like swearing, who wasted my learning time as they were not prepared to fully go for it, I wish more teachers would do the same. Learning is not cheap.

So lets summarise as today I feel like nothing is linear or has a proper focus. I have managed to drift from working to three different clothes websites that are in america and incredibly expensive that i will never order from as currently I am saving for a house.

So =

The actors temple has a bad rap.

It has been labeled a cult (probably by some cnut)

Because most people that come out of it start spouting their enlightenment at everyone they meet.

Drama school peeps like to look down at all other forms of training (only my experience, so dont get all crazy rapper intonation angry at me, obviously many of you give the rest a bad name) and sneer at ‘the enlightened’ and meisner based enlightenment.

Other scared actors (non drama schoolites) too scared to go and be told they may be shit at a class sneer at the ‘enlightened’ as they are so incredibly jealous that not only did someone they compete for jobs with went and bettered their ‘craft’ (I do find that phrase so wanky, but is that my jealousy? that I see my skills only certified at hobby level and never to be good enough or worked enough to be called a Craft?) and to top all that off they were blessed with a friggin godly moment of enlightenment? #selfish


Lets move on…Ok, so really its just a really friggin good learning space with teachers that are unrelenting and who encourage you to be your best. They have, with the help and teachings of Ol’ Sanford, passed over to us by Tom Radcliffe student to Mr Mesiner.

Yes, I have been to The Temple.

I even did a two month course. Thats 8 weeks out of the 52. 40 days of my 2013. I loved it. Actually fiddle me. Wait that was to replace a naughty word but now that sounds even worse. I really am going to have to work on better swear swapsies. I had forgotten that I had also completed a weeks introduction before i was allowed to do full training. See they vet you before they accept you to the cult. 

I promise I wasn’t holding out on you I just forgot. Not because it wasn’t memorable as it clearly was enough for me to drop more money on the full training but i guess it wasn’t the life changing experience many will have had. The intro week is probably what causes such a stir in most. My intro was full of all sorts. People I mean. Doctors, builders, sales assistants and a few actors. It was exactly like every other acting class to start. Loud obnoxious cankers wanting to be heard. Selfish and desperate to prove how awesome they were. Fortunately that was when all changed and we were all reduced back to basics. We were not allowed to start acting. We had to stop being so arrogant and focused on ourselves and instead start noticing our partner. In doing so, and being honest while doing so, you have to say what you see. Alot of the time people don’t want you to see what is really going on with them. So, announcing what you see can often cause quite a stir. Especially if they arent willing to acknowledge that in the public domain. Where the enlightenment comes in, is when you are forced to accept what it is someone else sees. Doing so infront of others can be quite liberating and thus one feels a sense of relief and joy that they wish everyone could experience.

STOP making them feel bad about it! They were a closed off person who was broken a little and made to realise some shity about themselves that their so called friends were never brave enough to voice. If you are a friend of one of these people maybe you could do with some time at the temple and realise that maybe your not so self aware ducko!

I didn’t feel enlightened. I did learn a hell of a lot. I realised I have another level that I hadn’t been aware of within myself that I can now access for my acting. I got that from the brilliant teaching of Mark Wakeling and Tom Radcliffe at The Actors Temple.

Don’t judge it till you’ve tried it.


p.s-Yes I tried drama school, and no I didn’t like it. My voice didn’t quite fit in.

pps- It is not just for actors, anyone who wants to realise the bs barriers they put up which stop you reacting and noticing other human beings, it may be for you. You never know!


Looking over the arm rest

Ok so where is the line? I always thought it was half an arm rest width, but I guess with obesity increasing and butts invading the lower cavity of neighbouring seats are we starting to blur the line. I was sat on a Piccadilly line train minding my own beeswax trying to use the time productively on our latest script, a romcom if you were interested. Now am I the one being out of order by taking my personal work onto a public transportation system? I would have thought not, as surely everyone should be in their own ever increasing expensive 1ft x 1ft ( if your lucky) space to enjoy or dread their journey to wherever as they wish. I would like to be able to get on we my journey without the ever lurking eyes of Mr Black, a very tall lean Japanese man in skinny pleated trousers that still don’t even touch his legs, so he definitely doesn’t lift bro. Or at least does miss a heck of a lot of legs days.
Should I, instead of boiling internally and formulating all manner of one liners veering from aggressive to witty to down right rude, turn to him and ask his opinion? So far in similar occasions I have just allowed this Invision of privacy to let my creative train wait in the tunnel, possibly never to poke its head out the other end. I don’t know how many files have a paragraph or (cough) one line as their sorry little existence due to nosy neighbours, who selfishly didn’t bring an attention keeping device with them.

I am currently sat on a central line train. No arms rests whatsoever! Did the central line start this blurring of personal space? Whoever it was or whatever led to this, is there a way back? A route that takes us back to people respecting one another’s personal space? Or am I the one in the wrong taking my expectations of personal space out of my living quarters. I have been feeling guilty the last paragraph as sometimes I am that person woofing down a cold wrap or a protein bar, or slurping on my sickly sweet smelling protein shake. So is someone out there thinking that I am invading their personal senses space? Am I the arrogant prick who is selfishly making dieters hungry by eating in a public domain? Or am I still on the edge of a respectful person because it’s not offensive smells like fried chicken, cigarettes or mc Donald’s? Is my fastfood(can you even call mcdonalds that, last time I went I waited 15mins for mine to be ready, and I wasn’t even ordering like an LAite) my sentence to actually being the thing that ruins my day?
My biggest fear, being a ducking hypocrite. It’s what I dumped ex-boyfriends for. It also means that I can’t continue to write my ramblings as maybe I am what I hate. And that is sad that I have not been able

“to be the change you wish to see in the world”

Maybe it’s not to late to make that change. I might just ask that gentleman that is unfortunate enough to sit next to me next, to take my spare note pad and give me some notes. That’ll learn him.

Break the mould


A big thank you to the covent garden Starbucks team of barista’s for being able to think outside the box, see the grey area, read between the lines, break the rules but not the law, and clearly be a bit more of a happy creative bunch than my local Starbucks posse.
I am excited to take this to my local and see what they make of it! What excuses and looks of aggression I will receive!
You never know I might even score a biscotti frappuccino or inspire some individual to stop being so monochrome and see the light in the dark.
I used to work in service industry jobs. Where didn’t I work is the easier question. And yes I am surprised I managed to not come out without a prison sentence of murder or at least ABH. I think that’s where my hatred of people set in. But that i have decided, is for another post.
Anyways enjoy! Break the mould of your book abiding barista and get them to make what’s not on the menu!

I have been really fortunate the the last couple of months to have had the experience of seeing my industry from a whole new perspective. Giving me an understanding and insight that is invaluable. It hasn’t been an easy learning experience and I have felt like sometimes the world has just hurled turds at me from every angle. On the flip side it has forced me to be able to take those turds and use them to my advantage. Sounds gross but makes some kinda sense to me. It has also given me the big thumbs up as I’ve discovered that in a crisis, semi crisi, demi crisis, complete fall out, I am able to cope and behave like a decent human being, not taking my crazy hormonal irrationalness out on those around me.

Who are you in a crisis? Do you blame the rest of the world or do you turn it on yourself? I’m starting to know which I do. Is that what they say about knowing yourself?

I have always been the type of person who is able to make every problem my own fault and then berate myself for not being better, stronger, smarter etc. Through having had been served turd city for breakfast, lunch and dinner and knowing that alot of it is out of my control and wasn’t my fault in the slightest I have learned to look unjudgmentally at situations, dish up empathy for those opposing me so i can possibly try to understand the (complete crazy) angle they are coming from, self assess whether I am coming from an emotional or Logical place and make an informed decision I can live with. I’m not going to be patronizing and say it comes with age but i guess it does come with the amount of lemons that you have been handed. I think for years i was handed lemons and just put them in the cupboard to deal with at a later date. Now having filled the larder, pantry, shed, under the bed etc and have a house full of people delving into rooms looking for stuff I have had to take the lemons, peel them, squeeze them, take the rind off for cakes and open a f’ing lemonaquarium.

I’ve discovered it is better to just face them head on. Its not always your fault, yes you may have had a hand in the outcome but if you made a choice with your given set of circumstances and you can sleep at night then ignore the crazy wankers bashing at your door who know they are liars and they may still be making your life difficult but that is probably because ‘they’, the ever proverbial ‘they’, can’t sleep at night. They know deep down they were in the wrong, they lied and they never once even attempted to look at the situation and try to see it from the other side. Let the wolf keep bashing at their door.

To be or not to be an arsehole(asshole for Americans)???


What is it that makes me feel like an arsehole for an action but someone else doesn’t?
Let me set the minuscule scene for you. I admit it is tiny and to most will seem like nothing but to this very Girl all these little things add up and one day there will be a boiling point. I headed to my local Mecca, emblazoned with the green mermaid.
You must know firstly though that some selfish yummy mummy decided a while ago that this particular haven of mine was to be annihilated as a peaceful place to work and instead was to become a children’s playground. As you can tell I’ve still not come to terms with this. That aside, I decided to pop in on this delightful Sunday morning after enjoying a stroll in the random blessing of sunshine and treat myself to my new guilty pleasure, a Dirty chai. Just the name gets my taste buds tingling.
I walk to the end of the queue, as one does. I wait there for maybe two mins, there is quite a long queue as clearly most of north London has decided to do the same, dogs are lined up outside tied to whatever constitutes as a public pole.
Then maybe another minute goes past and the she devil enters. Jumps right in front of me in the queue. Obviously I should be counting myself lucky ‘it’ had the kindness to offer an explanation, I think ‘it’ said, “I need to get something” so I thought she was simply wanting to get a sandwich, but no she just stood there, taking up my place. So then I thought she must have said ‘I went to get something’ either ducking way, she hadn’t ok’d it with me, and I’m sorry but when did it become ok that you can leave a queue and still have your space. I know this is again me boiling it down to the loss of the Englishness in London and the fact nobody seems to understand the etiquette and common decency of queuing or having respect for your fellow human being but yup I’m there again. Some selfish ducker has brought me right back here and before midday on a ruddy Sunday no less!
I don’t mind someone thinking they have a right to a space in a queue if they have ok’d it with all present but you have to have been in said queue long enough to actually have a person behind you to actually have classed your place as a place.
Now I know this is ‘first world problems’ but i feel this is the starting point at which we need to nip it in the bud.
Treat as you wish to be treated mutha ducker!
If it would piss you off, then more than likely it would piss me off. And to be honest even if it wouldn’t piss you off it would more than likely piss me off as I will have had to come into contact with more arrogant selfish pricks than you have, so just don’t do it.

So anyways, it left me fuming, I was so angry I had to leave the queue. I went and sat down for a minute. Then another minute. Then went and joined the queue again, walked right in. Not one person out of the four I pushed in front of said a word. I annoyingly was behind the bitch as she was already at the gates of heaven, being served by the slightly bitchy little barista who always tries to overcharge me. ( don’t worry I’m on to her and I’m prepared, with own cup= 25p off gold Starbucks card= free extra shots, free syrups, free exotic flavour of the month bean
Yeah you know it!). So now I’m the bitch, stood in the queue, without an excuse just waiting for someone to question me so I can explain that ‘it’ was saving my place so I could then explain to ‘it’ where she went wrong in life. Nobody gave me that chance. Or was I just a ‘miaow miaow’
Either way, I’m left feeling like an arsehole and my Dirty chai just feels dirty and not so sweet as promised and ‘it’/bitchface/she-devil is sat drinking her skinny(like its going to do any difference) latte whilst her child runs around the playground of legs and chairs. Well let’s hope someone has a hot tea that scolds said child and maybe she might start thinking outside the box.
Or maybe I would just feel bad again and ‘it’ would just be that one step ahead of me again.

More love to share…Yumchaa!

Ok so I’m sat in cafe…that is not Starbucks! I know it’s almost blasphemy! I can actually see one Starbucks sign winking at me and know one of my fave ones is about 5 metres behind me. So I’m sat between two drinking A wondrous herbal tea. Now I nw that alo sounds like a lie as most herbal teas I have previously experienced are lame, twangy and a bit soury. I am sipping on a caramel sweetheart in the loveliest little quaint hang out in Londons Soho, Yumchaa.
It’s busy and has been for the past hr I’ve been using it to waste some time I till I go to my next casting. Literally two castings round the corner from each other and an hr and a half between slots.
I must admit that never seems like a gripe when I can waste a bit of time in London. I do live my home city. Despite wanting to be in the States I still appreciate and love London.
I suppose I love Yumchaa as it reminds me of New York and my fave hang out Urth cafe in LA without losing its Londonness.
Anyways back to Yumchaa, on entering there is like a gazillion little pots on the counter for you. To dip your nose into to have a sniff and make a decision on what drink to order. Last ome I was here I went for the refreshing but sweet mango sunrise, this time on this typically rainy London day I felt I needed a slight bit more of a hug and have a Caramel Sweetheart.
Unbelievably it has the depth and ooze sensation of caramel with no sugar but the feeling like you are having a sugary treat. I don’t know how they do it, and in truth I don’t wan to ruin the experience and try to make it at home.
Anyways, if you have some time to kill in London town do head down to Yumchaa, it’s on the corner of Berwick and Noel street in soho, w1.