Happy Birthday

This is my boss Sash (photographed here with the lovely Bindya from India looking fabulous in red)

Yesterday it was Sash's birthday so a couple of girls in the office arranged to get him a cake with a picture and a personalised message delivered to the office for him.

And this is what arrived...

Happy Birthday... SARAH? Tash I would've understood but Sarah?

We got a replacement cake but Sash still didn't look too happy about it all.. maybe it's cause the picture was a monkey... imagine if we told him it was a monkey named Sarah!

P.S. Get this - "Happy Birthday Sarah" is sitting in the server room awaiting to be picked up... as if... what are the company going to do with it?!

Christmas Cracker!

I've had the blessing of working as the Office Manager for a consulting firm (who even knows what that means!)... that's not exactly the blessing... but the open plan office certainly is... I feel like I'm living out the dream that is an episode of "The Office" (I never thought I'd say this but the American version is far superior... don't tell the Brits ;-)

Each day is full of characters going about their daily life and humouring me... whether they know/like it or not!

As it's December and the silly season that is Christmas is setting in I, being the office manager have introduced a few things to humour the 20 or so staff we have in the office... it started with Secret Santa and continued today with a Christmas Tree being set up in our office. Because my job means I basically spend other people's money to do what I want (Insert wicked cackle here) I organised for our plant company to bring in a tree and set it up... decorations and all!!!

I've had this day highlighted in my diary for weeks - "December 8th" and everytime the doorbell rang or a stranger walked in I thought my wildest dreams were being realised - I even asked a courier who brought in a vacuum cleaner if he was here to set up the Christmas Tree - and by 3pm I was actually a bit concerned borderline mental episode that the tree may not arrive!!!

On the edge of my seat, about ready to pick up the phone and give the plant company an earful for delaying the delivery of Christmas a friendly bohemian strolled in asking... where to set up the Christmas Tree - Get in!!!

This is exactly the kind of photo stand that used to occupy the space of our Christmas Tree... go on... say it... I know what you're thinking... kitsch!

I quickly moved the photo stand and made room for the blessed tree!!! I don't really know what I was expecting - I was already taken back by the friendliness of the young, Christmas bearing green thumb and then - he had two assistants bring in all the goodies - there was a pack of people bearing Christmas.

I was happy, things were under way. I found myself very distracted and kept on gazing over at the tree as it was unwrapped and decorated... I admit... I could be found half smiling with glazed eyes looking at that tree...

After a while I noticed that one of Santa's Little Helpers was quite cute... bonus... so now I had two reasons to stop working and gaze over to my left. While gazing I was caught by surprise...

Overwhelmed by my surprise I quickly opened up a group chat on my skype account with a few of my colleagues... this surprise was too good...

"Howdy, I doubt any of you have taken the opportunity to gaze at the Christmas Tree as I have. I hope for your sake you have not repeatedly caught the eyeful I have every time I've looked at the young whipper snapper decorating the tree. It seems we have a new contender for plumber's crack... Christmas Cracker"

Yep that dark haired cutie was flashing his smile at both ends!

All it takes is for one person to laugh and I'm gone... thanks to my friend Bindya (from India!) my giggles were off and racing. The jokes flew around the communal online chat (Covent Garden Pants, Putting the pants in plants, Making you smile this Christmas...)

Bindya from India

Finally the tree was decorated and the original bohemian returned after "parking the van" (for 40 minutes mind you) and asked the office if we could check that the tree had been set up appropriately... everyone said "The office manager, Larissa"... oh dear... I knew I couldn't go near that tree or that bum bearing decorator without laughing so palmed off the responsibility to our marketing manager claiming that she needed to make sure the tree was to our firm's standard!

The Final Product

The team trekked out and then my Director and such asked why I was red and why I wouldn't go and look at the tree... after all... I had been waiting all day for this!!! So we all began to explain what had happened... that the decorator had been flashing more than lights... then all of the sudden my collegue starts giving us the eye and trying to subtly hush us ... turns out our boy was on his hands and knees cleaning up pine needles from the ground - we all threw our heads on our desks in shame... as red as Rudolph's nose... then he left!!!

Is anyone else seeing this???

So while lounging in the lounge this evening I spied the following poking out from under the "hot chocolate table"...

For those of you who may be unaware of the relevance of this stapled batch of papers please see below its ranking...

My feelings towards it...

In case you're wondering... yes, this is the kitchen bin!

Volleyball

So for anyone who has had the pleasure of visiting London and my friends over the last few years you may be well aware that we like to play volleyball... well I personally like to play volleyball... others... love to play it and then there are some... specifically a certain bracket of boys who lose control of their bodily functions for the cause... specifically... rational thought... hence irrational words and phrases. There may be certain people who on occasion find that their obsession for the game means it is no longer anything to do with volleyball... just competition and obnoxiousness.

Remember if you will that I broke my foot playing volleyball and hobbled around London on crutches only to return to the game when I had recovered... and I only "like" playing the game, I'm one of the least!

At the end of the day no one is a professional... we are a bunch of amateurs playing for our own amusement... I mean really... we often start games and realise a few points into the game that no one has been keeping score so we decide to go with 1 all.

I may or may not live with one of the people a few ranks up the volleyball chain, in the realm of "obnoxious volleyballer", the queen bee (QB) of volleyball if you will... who can often be found giving himself and everyone else within a mile of the court an aneurysm on any given Thursday...

I suggested to him once that if he thought he was so good and was on the border of bursting an artery for the cause of improving everyone else's game that he should enter a team into a local competition... you know a social volleyball league... a reason to justify the otherwise unnecessary obnoxiousness and competition. Apparently, according to the queen bee "no one is good enough" and anyone who is good enough "has a bad back" or is "inconsistent". So obviously if you're not going to enter a local competition lets ruin a joyful get together by pretending that we're Olympic rejects who are now in an anger management program on a supervised excursion to play volleyball!!!

Play or even spectate... if you dare!!!

Queen bee can now no longer burst enough capillaries on a Thursday so has now introduced volleyball on a Tuesday... for the elite... only. Being of the humble "likes playing volleyball" rank I have not been invited to join "elite" Tuesday games... i'm not joking... it is referred to as "elite" by the queen bee. After he hit more balls out than me last night I'm actually questioning if he saves his elite game for Tuesdays... only!!! Upon second thought maybe "elite" has nothing to do with the game maybe it's just the tantrums that are thrown.

The tantrums though are in vain... because... lets face it... who really is threatened by a guy whose choice of penile extender is only a 15 inch volleyball... I mean really... if you're going to invest in a phallic symbol... buy a car already!!!

Judgey Judge

So I work in a little area called the "Square Mile" in London - renowned for the hundreds of banks that play with our money and law firms that bust them for doing so. This area is built on money... or the illusion/ mirage of money.

Anyone who knows me knows that my greatest attributes are lost working in the square mile at a stuffy law firm... but it pays the bills... so I hate that I love the square mile and I love to hate it!!!

This place is full of mostly suited men that on any random lunch time you can see becoming more red in the face and pOtted in the belly as they loiter laughing and shouting outside any one of the abundant bars/pubs in the area. I refer to them as "fat cats" and I pretty much think most of them are... hmmm... let me think... how would you say... oh i know... PATHETIC!

"Warning - sweeping comment follows"

I'm sure there are some good people working here but then there are so many bad ones driven by greed. Their greed crossed with society's acceptance and humouring of it contributed to the wonderful "Credit Crunch" of 2008 and then in close succession the "Recession" of 2009.

I resent not only the greedy sods whose love of money has lead to our economic downturn but also working in such close proximity to them. As I go to work every day on the tube the carriage begins to fill with more and more suits and I mentally... and sometimes physically... scowl at them as they steal seats on benches that are clearly designed for 3 people to sit on... which they seem to think only cater for two fat cats at best... while us lovely ladies stand and fend off the pages of the broadsheet Financial Times that threaten to papercut us! "Insert huff and puff of frustration here"

So yesterday I managed to get a seat and from my high horse I scowled as a fat cat stumbled onto the train nearly elbowing people in the head as he opened his Financial Times - I judged him. I moved my gaze along the carriage ready to take down my next victim with my piercing glare and there he was another suit, reading, except it wasn't the peachy pages of the Financial Times in his grasp... no no no... it was... brace yourself... Twilight!!!

I came off my high horse with that one

Mouth-watering

There are a few things in this world that make my mouth water... ice cream, my crush (swoon) and the following play synopsis...

"Written in 1901, a mysterious amalgam of Freud, Alice in Wonderland and Strindberg's own private symbolism, A Dream Play follows the logic of a dream: A young woman comes from another world to see if life is really as difficult as people make it out to be. Characters merge into each other, locations change in an instant and a locked door becomes an obsessive recurrent image. As Strindberg wrote in his preface, he wanted 'to imitate the disjointed yet seemingly logical shape of a dream. Everything can happen, everything is possible and probable. Time and place do not exist.'"

Kinkyfish are currently looking for a new play and this is one of the contenders. The thing I love about all things artsy is the ability to be able to escape reality in a healthy constructive way... it's not like you make room for it... things artistic and creative can expand your mind... they make room for somewhere else for your thoughts to run... such a thought is so delightful unto me... in fact mouth-watering!

Stressful

The art of blogging is an art indeed... actually it's not an art... it's a mathematical equation... a scientific problem... striking the balance between what to write about, when to write, how much to write - AAAAAHHHHHH!!! I've had to give myself an intervention. I am working towards my blog being synonymous with the wit, humour and intelligence of my thoughts and this is stressful. To truly be synonymous with my thoughts I am going to insert a story about my current crush... I may think about my crush every other minute... I'll let my blog determine if this is true.

In a recent conversation with my fabulous flat mate and friend I paused and broke the silence with the following comment "I need to work out ways to touch him more" Her response "Well don't you wanna talk to him?" my response "...oh yeah"

YO!!!

So I've been rebuked by a number of people for not writing on my blog for months now... my apologies. I believe this came about when I no longer sat on my tooshy looking for a job but instead began actually working a job. I know there was a brief moment there... a joyful moment for us all where i got to write and post blog entries at my one month temp job but then I got a real job at a crazy law firm... it's not the lawyers that are crazy so much I find... it's the people who work for them... the ones who feed this whole... I'm a lawyer and i'm so important hoopla... and these people unfortunately are my bosses but I'm not bitter and twisted... no no no... I am grateful of course!!!

I have set a goal to write another post in the next 14 days... stay tuned... fo real!!!

Juv L

A glitch in the system... a loophole dare I say

As I mentioned yesterday my computer at work has an aversion to anything personal that requires a login except between 12:30 and 2... anything except my bank and it's pathetic balance... talk about salt in the wound... 24/7... like a dodgy kebab shop that's open to block your arteries and break your heart at any hour of the day so too is my bank... no not the bank and its services... just the vision of my balance!!!

I don't even have the comfort of socialising via my good friend "Facebook"... I've had to quit that cold turkey... it doesn't have the privilege of being accessed during those sacred lunchtime hours even... elitists. I keep trying though... to access facebook... on the off chance the computer has changed its mind... it seems to change its mind about enough things often enough... like whether it wants to turn on or off when I want it to. I regularly give it the chance to make up for its fickleness by seeing if it'll log in to FB... but it always says

"ACCESS DENIED"

Being denied access is never a polite subtle thing, it's always loud and bright... I once tried to access FB at another office and my entire screen turned lime green... vision a fire warden jacket... with some long shpeel in bright red... envision a fire truck... about how I'd try to access an illegal, inappropriate website - obviously... Oh well

So imagine my pure pleasure when the internet socialising addict that I am googled my own blog for a minute... couldn't access it via my FB page now could I... to see if someone had read... maybe commented on my blog. Expecting the lovely "Access Denied" image my blog appeared!!!

(I wrote that in yellow... like the midday sun... to depict my joyfulness when it appeared!!!)

SO there I was scrolling through and I even had a comment... worth the 60 seconds of googling my own blog... (who does that, really, who googles their own blog?) Meanwhile...

I HAD A COMMENT FROM HAYLEY

(I wrote that in yellow, bold and capitals to depict my UBER joyfulness that I not only had a comment but that it was from Hayley) GET IN!!!

Like finding my balance on a snowboard I basically endeavoured to do the equivalent of turning on my board when I hit the button "Log in"... and did I lose my balance, did I fall from grace once more, did my head ricochet off the ground in a painful realisation that I had lost my balance...? a resounding NO! I logged in and here I am writing a post... I've been writing it intermittently for the last two hours -

Wahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa!!!!!!!! Why don't you stick that in your pipe and smoke it Access Granters!?!?!?! Beepity Boop you!!!

(Insert gang signs)

An outburst you say... no ... I'm always eloquent and demure

Larissa's online identity and self expression reigns again... we've just got to find an audience to watch my show... Hi Hayley!

Cloaked in defiance Larissa posted her blog entry... logged in at 12:13!!!

You asked for it!!!

In case you're wondering where I went... I got a job!!! YAY!!!

So I'm now working in the colourful area of Clapham ;-)

In their wisdom my work place only allows personal email/internet access between 12:30 and 2 every day and then after 6pm - I must admit it's in their wisdom.

Anyways my internet rations will soon run out. As far as the guitar playing goes... I liken it to when I was learning how to drive. I learnt how to drive a manual... what some people like to say a "stick shift". After a flippin mint flying start to my lessons I went through this phase where I forgot to put in the clutch when I was changing gears... also known as a fundamental part of driving... or not stalling for that matter. I seem to be experiencing the same occurence with the guitar... not that the guitar has a clutch.

During this time of driving dilemma I found comfort hanging out at the checkout where my best friend was working at Action... like Sainsbury's... While she would scan hundreds of dollars worth of groceries to a whole variety of characters I'd stand there sucking my tube of condensed milk... getting that sugary sweetness straight into the system like a drip... babbling on about how I stalled the car on a 3 lane motorway... as people blasphemed and gave me the finger...

Well I don't get the finger these days while I seem to be forgetting to hold down the strings on my guitar but it is still nonetheless stressful to fall from guitar playing grace...

I'm getting there slowly but surely and just last night I realised - forget the callouses and toughening up the fingertips... forget them... pretend you're playing with the bone of your finger. This mantra has improved my playing already... we're back on the motorway... and we're not stalling!!!

Yeeha Geetar!!!

Being an only child I have had a lot of practice amusing myself... seeing as there have been very few others. Mainly, I like to name and decorate things, basically I like to create an experience opposed to just running the motions.































Recently, with the inspiration of Guns 'n' Roses' Slash (Yes, I'm reading yet another autobiography about drugs and rock n roll) and his emphatic description of playing the guitar... an enthusiasm that could not be denied rose and decided to reside with me. I tried to ignore it but it insisted and so I bravely asked my friend "not to laugh" and whether he would help me to "learn how to play the guitar"... 6 days and 4 numb finger tips later I am considerably worse at touch typing but better at guitar.




















Here I would like to serve "mad props" as Randy Jackson would say to Emma Baker for lending me her guitar... Benjamin... I have since learnt that's his name.

As when I was 10 and inspired by the X-men cartoon series to create my own family of mutants I left my guitar progress report laying around and someone else discovered it. I would just like to take this moment and verify when I say I was creating my own family of mutants I wasn't creating real mutants... I was just drawing some pictures detailing and left them laying around.

To keep myself amused and my acquisition of a new skill on track I began keeping a guitar progress report. For your viewing pleasure please see below... please note I refer to the guitar as Brett, the pick as Jermaine and when you start applying your body weight's worth of pressure to the steel guitar strings it feels like razor blades are stuck in your finger tips. Apparently the pain will go but the callouses will come later...

My long nails that I had to sacrifice for the sake of my art

String marks on my finger tips... this is not normal!!!

My swollen fingertips after my first sesh of sticking blades in my finger tips

The view when I lay down at night... my hand drawn chord patterns

Apparently my guitar progress report is amusing to more than one person so I have decided to publish it here for your viewing pleasure even if it's just for one other person...

Larissa's Progress

Feb 23rd -->

Brett, Jermaine, Larissa = Present

C Major = Average, 3rd finger is giving attitude, muting thumb = roobesh
D Major = Mint, 2nd finger slid onto fret
E Minor = Absolutely flippin mint
G Major = Good
- Fingers building resistance :-)

Feb 24th -->

Benjamin aka Brett, Jermaine, Larissa = Present

C Major = Much better but pretty much still roobesh, 3rd finger needs strength, muting thumb = roobesh
D Major = bit of cheek
E Minor = Still flippin mint, old faithful
G Major = OK

- Need to stretch fingers and get used to spacing them out
- Fingers feel discomfort rather than pain so much
- Numbness increasing
- Finished practice as fingers seemed to not be able to hold down any note in the end
- Very twangy and muted
:-(

Feb 25th -->

Benjamin aka Brett, Jermaine, Larissa = Present
C Major = Memorised chord and yeah boy, nailed the chord
D Major = YAY! good, snagging a little, 2nd finger has attitude
E Minor = Nailed, YAY!
G Major = YAY!

"I knew Brett would come to his senses"
- 3rd finger still a bit weak
- Finger resistance even better
- Holding notes
- Getting somewhere!!!

Why didn't anyone tell me London was a hole???

Howdy!!!

The above thought has come into my mind time and time again since I moved to London 2.5 years ago.

1. When I moved into an area where I would see someone get mugged on the tube in front of a full carriage.
2. Living next to Arsenal stadium
3. Moving into an area where a drunken man in a wheelchair felt up a dancing Elizabeth Taylor look alike at the bus stop... This all occured to the sweet sounds and fat bass being played by the guys running the phone unlocking booth... a tent with a giant marijuana leaf on the back of it... I think they sold more than unlocking phones
4. Moving into that area
5. Then moving right next door to maximum security prison Wormwood Scrubs
6. When one of the prisoners faked a seizure and his friends hijacked the ambulance that was going to the hospital next door
7. Our landlord evicted us for letting rats in through the window
8. Walking in a neighborhood where you feel comforted knowing that you'll be at the mental institute soon.

All that glitters is not gold

Hello again!

Since I've been involved in performing one way or another since I was 7 I've always been mindful of the concept of fame and celebrity... I don't want this to be perceived as I have sought fame or idolised the idea of being a celebrity I've simply been fascinated by the mechanics of it... namely the smoke and mirrors.

So I've been reading "Scar Tissue"... the autobiography by Anthony Keidis, lead singer of the Chilli Peppers. Mucho grazi to my Misty Moo who left this read behind for me... Thus far it has been an autobiography about a drug addict... the singer in a world famous band is just the backdrop to the story. He frequently refers to going to Hollywood and downtown LA to score drugs... and it's not like he shies away from describing the characters and dare I say urchins and unfortunate souls that roam these streets... "Rewind" you might say... "urchins and unfortunate souls roam the streets of a place known for its sunshine, dream factories, fame and fortune?" A resounding YES!!!

To some of you this may be well known and perfectly obvious but I was speaking about my recent visit to Hollywood and it's walk of fame to my friend just yesterday and she was astounded to know that Hollywood as well as some of its sorrounding areas... Beverley Hills even is the dodgiest place... No word of a lie.

First of all the Walk of Fame is a road with hundreds of stars in the pavement honouring actors, musicians and personalities. Celebrating these celebrities is such an irony and in stark contrast to the people who actually walk these streets... take away the tourists and you're left with a variety of homeless, mentally ill, abused, drug driven, affected people... it's astonishing and once you're over the shock it's sad... sad that this is what some people call life and then that we finance and support an industry that covers up this reality with stars

The shock dwells for a while because you are sorrounded by polar opposites... symbols of affluence and actualities of despair. The two seem to co-exist... except one party is fast losing its existence. Aside from the fancy Chinese and Kodak theatres with their state of the art neighbours such as the two story H&M the remainder of this walk... when you look up from the sidewalk... comprises of tattoo parlours, sex shops, dodgy restaurants and trashy tourist shops with as many bongs on display as souveniers. I wonder what the celebrities think when they make their way to their stars... even if the locals are shipped away on the days when the stars are certified they can't hide them forever.

Once we had braved the dodgy characters... some of who take advantage of the hollywood draw card by dressing up as celebrities for photos... we jumped in our car only to pass one of the locals twitching out, yelling at one of the other personalities not on the street but warring in his mind... embodied in one person was the battle between the double standards that exist not only in that neighbourhood but our world.

And it's not only Hollywood where this exists... you can not just blame the dream machine that is Hollywood... or even America...

I was working in the homeless shelter this week and was setting up the beds on the stage for the homeless to sleep... and once again I was struck by the co existence of double standards as I cleared the space of ITV scripts and dragged props around the stage including a couch and food and even an electric scooter. There's a real irony about having to move the objects which were a replica of life to make room for real life... even more ironic that to one group food was just a prop whereas to another group in the same space food was something that they needed to beg for...

After all my observations... what's my point? I think this entry is long enough so I'll spare the further details but to improve a situation you must first recognise it... much like this entry is the start of my blog... it's a start... one which somehow we should act on.

Lets start at the very beginning...

Howdy!!!

Welcome to my first ever blog entry. Somewhere between the U.S. of A. and unemployment a blog and the Twilight saga seemed like a really good idea. My recent travels to the states imparted many experiences and life lessons to me... to put it politely. The Twilight saga proved to be a guilty pleasure that once started could not be stopped so it wouldn't surprise me if this blog turns out to be the same...

I was about to embark on a travel log but thought better of it when I wrote about my first day in San Francisco and realised that my blog entry was more like a lonely planet guide... enough said... my characteristic restlessness wouldn't let me continue. Please stop by regularly and leave some words of encouragement!!!

Much Juv, Lelle