Tuesday, 29 November 2011

The Poindexter Massive

This particular blog is dedicated to anyone who grew up thinking they were a bit of a loser, geek, in the unpopular crowd etc.

It also kind of ties in with my last post, as working at The Railway has really made me realise the kind of town Southend could be if there were just a few more cool people living in it. And by cool, I mean.... you know, unusual.
I forgot to add this to my last post but when I was in Brighton a gay bloke in a bar complimented me on my dress. When I explained it was just an all-in-one from Primark with a skirt from Miss Selfridge over the top of it, he was like:

"What's Miss Selfridge? Like... Selfridges?"
"No.... it's a high-street shop, like Topshop, for girls"
"Never heard of it, is it like a junior version of Selfridges then?"
"No... no... it's got nothing to do with... it's just a shop. A separate shop"
"Where did you say you lived again?"
"Southend... in Essex..."
"Oh. Oh dear".

That just says it all really. With a little help from our TOWIE friends, we're a united county of fucking pikeys.

The Railway is like a little beacon of hope for anyone in Southend who isn't afraid of weird. Anyone who couldn't care less about mis-matched furniture, alternative music and some extremely odd characters. The reason I started this post is because I wonder how many of our regular customers were labelled a nerd, freak, bookworm, old-fashioned, whatever, at school. My guess is, most of them.

It's just interesting - and really annoying - how, when you're at school, everyone is the enemy. Without asking if you want to play, you're forced into the most ridiculously competitive game of who can impress the most, who's the most outspoken, who's got the richest parents. Maybe not all schools, but definitely mine. I - along with pretty much everybody who turned out to be a genuine friend - was picked on for every aspect of my character at school, some time or another. For having long hair, for not wearing make-up, for reading books, for being vegetarian, for liking old music, for having a dad who was in a band, for not bitching about other girls, for not smoking, for being in the school musical.

Isn't it ALSO interesting that ALL of these fucking things are now considered commendable characteristics (alliteration high-score!!!) and traits? Oh, you like The Kinks, do you? Since when, because you certainly had no idea who they were when you were going through my ipod back in 2003, laughing your head off. Your favourite artist was 50 Cent if I remember correctly, you loser.

Same applies for books, films, artists, clothes, cars, jobs, anything. Wearing your shirt with all the buttons done up was a hangable offence if you were 'popular', now you wear nothing but Fred Perrys and Ben Shermans. And having 'Wuthering Heights' sticking out of your schoolbag was enough to get you sniggered at for a month, now its in your 'favourite books' column on facebook. And back then, when you were all drinking WKD and sharing a spliff outside ALDI on a saturday night, I was busy being a kid, reading Jacqueline Wilson books and watching The Simpsons. Now that we're adults, I've got a really cool place to hang out and work at on the weekends, while you're desperately trying to find something to shove up your nose that you haven't become desensitised to yet, in someone's crackden of a flat somewhere in Westcliff.

Even though it's hard to go through at the time, it's almost worth being picked on for being genuinely different and feeling proud to grow up having stayed that way, rather than being a sheep all your life and jumping on the Ed Sheeran bandwagon. Just saying.

Monday, 28 November 2011


This may very well be the second blog I've written about how shit this town is, but I can't be bothered to check, so you're having it anyway.

LOOK, Southend's a load of absolute bloody rubbish. I just went to Brighton for the weekend to visit my best friend and came back being one of those really annoying people that go "Oh, it's just so much better in Southend in, you know, soooo many ways".


Why, why, why is it that in Brighton, as soon we stepped into the north lanes we found a tiny, cute little vegeterian cafe selling organic falafels and rasberry hot chocolate? They were selling huge bowls of coconut, carrot and lemongrass soup for 99p. NINETY-NINE-FUCKIN-P. A place like that would never survive in Southend. People are thick. I know full well, hopefully as do anyone that's ever eaten the veggie food at The Railway, that the whole menu is delicious and actually, pretty cheap considering what you're getting. But three quarters of the town would give it a wide berth just because it doesn't do steak. But before anyone complains that I'm preaching, I'm just saying there's nothing wrong with being a bit open-minded once in a while and trying something really tasty that didn't once have a mother.

It's not just restuarants though, it's shops and clubs and librarys and all sorts. Anything I'd consider to be cool or cultured or just not a chain store would fail in it's first year here. That's why there's 2 Superdrugs, 2 Boots, 2 H&M's, 2 horrible no-name thrift stores and ONE tiny vintage shop, on a weeny alley, 2 streets away from the high street. You can't walk from one end to the other without seeing someone else in the same Primark or Topshop top as you.

And you know what else, I went into Leigh library to renew my mum's book for her the other day and they've got this machine where you can check books out and renew them yourself. It's so they don't have to pay librarians to do it, because no one goes to the bloody library any more. Jesus.

I'm gonna open a tea shop, and I'm gonna sell home-made soup and carrot cake and loose leaf darjeeling and you're gonna fuckin enjoy it, and that'll be that.

Friday, 28 October 2011

My friends say the darndest things.

Here's a selection of ridiculous drivel as spouted by me and my brilliant friends :)

John: Can we get a dog? Can we call it Norway?
Me: No.
John: Oh! But then when you say, take the dog for a walk, I can say (in a northern accent) 'NOR-WAY!!'

John: Is it "aal-monds" or "AL-monds?"
Me: I say "aal-monds", but scots might say it differently.
John: Shut up!! You think just because I'm scottish that I'm retarded!! Well, you are as well, all you Essex lot, with all your TOWELIE bollocks.

John: Why's there a child called Marzipan anyway? Isn't marzipan a cheese?

John:(Squealing horribly in his sleep) Oh! Oh! I thought you were a fish!!

John: You're 20 now, isn't it scary? You really gotta make the next 5 years count, we're all grown up now... oh my god, there's a giant bouncy castle over there.

Me, spotting a tiny mop bucket in the corner of a car park: Aaaaw, look, it's lonely.
John: Don't get sad for the mop bucket Rosie, I know how broody you get.

John: I'm not sure I know the difference between Aspergers and Asparagus...

Tom Burgess: Smells of onions in here.
Me: Yeah, that'll be all the onions. (Points to large stack of onions) Oniony, isn't it.
Tom: ...Yeah. Some might say too oniony, but what do they know?

Tom: Look at all these happy couples. Don't it just make you wanna start fires?

John: You really don't understand how much I HATE minijack adaptors going missing. It'd be like you losing a shoe or a sock or something.

Me: I only tagged that video because there are bits of it where Blondie reminds me of me.
John: Why? Does she keep falling over?

Mum: What's this I've picked up? I didn't even want it.
Me: Oh, it's a body polisher.
Mum: I don't really need a body polisher, do I?
Me: Why'd you pick it up, then?
Mum: Well, it was only a pound!

Tom: (holding a can of deodrant) I've got really bad aim in my left hand, can you please tell me if I'm going in the right direction?

Xiehe: Do carrots have bones?

Xiehe: Why aren't America in the Eurovision? I was saying to Dad, Brazil's not in it either....

Xiehe: (Eating an egg and onion sandwich) Oh man, I could so go for an egg and onion sandwich right now. I mean, when I'm drunk.

Xiehe: (looking at a lampost) Look at that pricky little bitch. UP YOURS, ARSEHOLE!!

Xiehe: Oh, I knew it. This rubbish isn't mine. I just saw it on the bar and assumed it was mine and put it in my bag. But I know it isn't mine because I haven't bought anything today.

Jon: Hold on a minute, Rosie. I'm talking to Xiehe.
Me: Xiehe's not in here.
Jon: Yeah, look....
Me: That's my BAG.
Jon: ... oh. I was wondering why she wasn't saying much.

Syd: Dag, man, you should come and do some recording up in London with me sometime.
Dag: I can't think of anything WORSE right now.
Syd: Why not?
Dag: Because I DON'T LIKE YOU.

Fi: She's got a well good hairstyle, that Mia Watson.
Dad: Mia Wallace.
Fi: Oh. Yeah. Shut up! I was thinking of the one that's in Rosemary's Baby.
Dad: That'll be Mia Farrow.
Fi: Fucking hell! Maybe I went to school with someone called Emma Watson.
Me: That's an actress.

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

Music is my hot hot bath

I was once scoffed at by my best friend for weeping like an infant after listening to something sad at her house. (It was probably Let It Be, after I got into the habit of listening to it almost daily, thus overcoming spontaneous bouts of sentimentality.)

Anyway, the point is, she wasn't laughing at me for crying (it IS sad), she was laughing at me for attaching feelings to music, saying that the songwriters aren't always going through the situation the song's about, and that they deliberately base it on a generic issue so that more people will listen to it and go 'Hey, that applies to me! Must rush out and buy it'.

Fair point, I suppose, but it never stopped music being my first love. The older and less immature I become, the more knowledge I gain about different genres and eras and it's fascinating. It seems like all people do nowadays is brag about how long they've known a tune, before it got in the charts and everyone was listening to it.
E.g. 'Calvin Harris?! Mate, 2006 I heard him first. Whole year before his name was even Calvin. He weren't even famous, I just lived down the same road as him and used to record stuff in his garage after school'.


Good music is good music. It doesn't matter when you discover it or who showed it to you or whether it's 20 years old, or 50 years old, or in the top 40. I have only recently learned not to care when someone scrolls through my ipod and bursts into laughter at my eclectic tastes. Abba to Akon, Black Eyed Peas to Bowie, Janis Joplin to Justin Timberlake, Kate Bush to The Kinks to The Killers and all sorts of shit in between. People shouldn't judge you for not being afraid to listen to stuff that makes you happy or just what you consider to be a good piece of work.

Anyway, back to the original point:

If something truly moves you, whether it be a song, film, book, even an advert for the RSPCA, surely you're within your rights to get emotional about it, either way. If a song makes me happy, or upbeat, I'll dance to it. Even at work, which attracts unfunny remarks more often than not. If it's poignant, thoughtful or sends nostalgia rushing through you then that's great. The artist has done a good job, and it gives you a reason to live.

Listening to Etta James at work today made me feel like I was falling in love. Since I've Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin STILL sends shivers down my spine ever time I hear it. And as I'm sure is very, very obvious by now, almost everything The Beatles ever did makes me very something-or-other. Happy, sad, confused (Love You To), even angry (Yellow Submarine; Ob-la-di Ob-la-da). But SOMETHING, and something is certainly better than nothing.

Open your minds to new, interesting music and never give a shit what anyone else reckons. Find music with soul and emotion and your life will be 10 million times better.

Sunday, 31 July 2011

Just another manic Sunday...

The Bangles were obviously on crack when they sang "It's just another Manic Monday, aaaah... I wish it was Sunday, aaah... 'cause that's my fun-day" etc.

Sundays are the bane of my life. Before I go any further, here's the:


This particular rant is not aimed at any normal, friendly regulars of The Railway. Chances are if you frequent the pub and you're reading this, I'm more than happy to make you a cup of tea, or some food, or get up whilst eating my lunch to serve you - it's the rude, impatient retards who favour the jazz bands I have a massive chip on my shoulder about.

However, if I EVER have to tolerate the following from ANY of the aforementioned wankers on a shift ever again I am going to SHOOT somebody.

- Jokingly remarking 'are you actually open?!' upon walking in and there's no one in there yet. No mate, all the doors are locked and I'm not standing here behind the bar, in fact - HOW did you get in here?!! Moron. Someone has to be the first person in, don't they?!

- Replying with 'oh, for fucks sake' when I tell you your drink of choice isn't available at that exact moment.

- Asking me if I'm pregnant.

- Sniggering 'I only wanted a glass!' when pouring through the beginnings of an ale cask using a waste bucket. VERY FUNNY MATE. NOT HEARD THAT ONE BEFORE

- Not using the most basic of manners when ordering, e.g. please, thankyou, can I have etc, so you're just barking 'FOSTERS!' or 'COFFEE!'

- Ordering coffee. Hot drinks in general.

- Ordering pint after pint of lime and soda, or even worse, just soda. Cheapskate.

- Asking for a drink, then turning your back to me to have a chat with your stupid mate so when I've done the drink, I have to stand there like a mug waiting for you to finish your conversation and turn around and PAY for the goddamn drink.

- Coming up to the bar with money in your hand, then standing having a conversation, not bothering to order anything when I come up and ask if you're waiting to be served, then shouting after me the second I walk away after having been ignored for about 5 minutes.

- Not bothering to actually be standing at the bar when you shout your order at me. Or wait until I'm at least looking in your direction.

- Waiting until I'm sitting down eating my lunch before coming up to the bar.

- Asking stupid, pointless questions like 'what does that note say above the records?' or 'who's that in the picture above the door?' when it's rammed, there's about 20 people waiting to be served and I have to ask you to repeat yourself a million times.

- Being a crap singer and joining in with the bands/pianist at the absolute TOP of your voice without an ounce of shame. Or wolf whistling.

- Asking for the 'same again please' when I didn't serve you in the first place...

- Asking for ridiculous things that aren't on the menu like 'oh, just something in a bap' or 'a bit of salad, some courgette, aubergine, halloumi, no bread, some falafels and wedges, I'm on a diet'

- Men walking into the ladies loos and then going 'well, they used to be there'. About 3 years ago mate, yeah.

- Wanting to book a night in the diary or pitch your stupid idea to me at the busiest peak of the afternoon, again, when I can't HEAR YOU!!!


Tuesday, 28 June 2011


I miss Crookers

I miss Bubblegum Records

I miss Egypt '09

I miss arguing about whether it's called cheese on toast or toasted cheese (it's the first one...)

I miss Pippa

I miss your skinny jeans and huge trainers

I miss you offering me chocolate bourbons all the time, even though I always said no and you probably didn't realise I don't actually like them...

I miss quoting lines from Frontier Psychiatrist

I miss daytime Scrubs and the rushed lunch hour between Friars and ACS

I miss your weird one-armed air punch dancing

I miss your longer hair

I miss watching you stir ketchup into your mash and thinking, I'm gonna vom...

I miss you only making me half a cup of tea because you knew I'd never finish a whole one

I miss your Spyro nose

I miss your family

I miss going to Asda, buying £20 worth of sweets and spending all afternoon eating it all

I miss getting thrown off buses with you

I miss being open to your suggestions about new music

I miss your horrible disgusting mask

I miss the first ever Ramadance at the pub

I miss having to sleep in the spare room for the first 3 months

I miss your old big green Parka

I miss your Friday night DJ sets

I miss trying to persuade you to just wear my dressing gown to and from the bathroom

I miss dragging you round Sooooperdruuug!!

I just miss you.

A lot.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

The eleventeen types of drunks

Over the past 3 years, I've encountered many varieties of the drunk and disorderly. Over the past week, I've noticed that most of my friends fall into at least one of the categories I've created since working at the pub. These are as follows; see if you recognise any of the characteristics in yourself!

So we have:

The honest drunk (Me, Jon, Dad)
Most likely to say:

- I've been dying to say this for ages...
- You know what I think about you, right...
- A load of swearing

The giggly drunk (Jess)
Most likely to say:

- I just spat. On the floor. I JUST SPAT, ON THE FLOOR!! HAHAHAHA!!

Beware of this kind of drunk, and they can very easily and dramatically turn into:

The emotional drunk (Jess, me)
Most likely to say:

- I feel so rubbish and empty, waaaahahahaa. He's such a pr*ck!! I hate him so much, aaaah why do I love him... I hate him!!

Then there's the...

Fun drunk (Fi, John)
Most likely to say:

- You know what we should do...?!
- I just found a knife!! Who wants their hair cut?!

The singing drunk (Me, Jess, Billy)
Most likely to say:


The Incoherent drunk (Me, Burgess)
Most likely to say:

- Y'know what... sphhhsll... ff... nmm, love you.
- Can I have a.. peach, no apple.... no, the pear one... peach st heliers, the apple one...
- I bloody *burp*... I bloody... gghhhh... bloody love you.

It seems I can quite easily be any kind of drunk and get on an array of people's nerves if I set my mind to it. So here's to another Jagerbomb...

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Love Is...

- Loving your partner, knowing they love you too but both of you knowing the relationship doesn't work for whatever reason, greater than love itself (perhaps the most frustrating of situations)

- Loving someone and they have no idea (pretty frustrating)

- Loving someone who doesn't love you back (wait, the most frustrating?)

- Loving someone, knowing they love you too but not being able to be together because of crap circumstances (ah, maybe this is the most frustrating)

- Loving someone who's all wrong for you and you know it

- Watching the person you love, love somebody else

- Loving someone in a platonic sense, but knowing they love you more than that and not being able to give them what they want

- Loving two people, for very different reasons, at the same time

- Watching others be in love and not feeling that way for anyone

- Trying to love the right person and forget about the wrong person

- Loving someone enough to put the effort in, but they won't.

So really... love's a crock of shit.

(in the midst of all this lovey-dovey rubbish, I remembered there was a milky way hidden in my bag from earlier. SCORE!)

Bigmouth Strikes Again

"It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one’s mouth and remove all doubt", as Abraham Lincoln once said.

Right, so...

Go to bed. Shut up, sleep on it, re-think in the morning. You'll feel differently tomorrow. You always do.

Sunday, 12 June 2011

Going Your Own Way

The other day I said to John that our group of friends are like Fleetwood Mac... all the breakups and relationships between us.
It used to be quite fun, and to be honest, gave us all something to talk about, but now I'm just finding it annoying.
Looking at a picture of some of us at Mayhem from last year (where we've all got loveguns, it's a good photo), it made me sad that I hardly speak to at least half of them anymore. Some went to uni, some of us seriously fell out and the others just kind of drifted apart.
I know that it's common for people this age to get close to people then drift away again, but I wish it wasn't the case because I really did like this lot. I feel like it doesn't matter what or who you try and hold on to, inevitably the time will come where you just don't fit together anymore, kind of like a breakup. Some situation - arguments, rumours, falling in love - makes things awkward and you have to take a step back.
You can't be friends with someone if someone else in the group doesn't like them. You can't be friends with either half of a couple, if they split up and don't talk to eachother. You can't be friends with a boy if you're a girl, and vice versa, especially if they're going out with someone else. You can't have an opinion on anyone in the group, it will just get back to them. You hang around too much, you're clingy. You let people have their space, you're shoved out. You try not to get involved with other people's arguments, you're boring. You TRY and get involved for the sake of helping, you get told to fuck off.
In fact, see my previous post - that's where I'm going with this.

Are all friends and circles like this? Why do I still feel like I'm at school?!

Sunday, 24 April 2011

Chinese Whispers

He said, that you said, she was lying, but she didn't really mean it, but then she said to me something completely different. She said, that you said he'd said I was a liar. Then I said, why bother lying, when I know you're a liar and she lied and said I never said that. I got a completely different story, she said something about you that didn't add up now she's annoyed that I've told you what she said and what she heard from him, that apparently I told him but I never. No no, that was it, she said you were making the whole thing up because you're two faced and apparently that's not what you told her, and she said she told you what really happened and you said you wouldn't tell anyone and now everyone knows. Oh no hold on, I never said anything to her, she's just saying that to get back at me.... I NEVER SAID ANYTHING OF THE SORT... IT'S ALL COME FROM HIM, HE'S JUST SAYING THAT TO GET YOU ON HIS SIDE BECAUSE HE HATES ME, AND IT'S ALL A GAME TO MAKE HER THINK WE'VE SAID THINGS WE HAVEN'T AND NO ONE BELIEVES HER ANYWAY BECAUSE SHE'S TWO FACED, I MEAN YOU'RE TWO FACED, NO NO HOLD ON I REMEMBER WHAT I SAID NOW, ANYWAY SHE UPDATED HER STATUS AND IT'S OBVIOUSLY ABOUT ME AND YOU, OR JUST YOU, BECAUSE YOU'VE ANNOYED HER BY WHAT YOU SAID TO ME WHICH I TOLD HER CAUSE SHE HAS THE RIGHT TO KNOW, CAUSE I'M HER BEST MATE, THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID, I KNOW SHE SAID IT TO YOU AS WELL BUT SHE WAS LYING ABOUT THAT TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER BECAUSE SHE'S A LYING LITTLE BITCH, I MEAN I LOVE HER DEARLY BUT MY GOD SHE'S A PAIN IN THE ARSE, NOT AS BAD AS HIM THOUGH I CAN'T BLOODY STAND HIM, EXCEPT WHEN HE'S ALRIGHT, THEN HE'S ALRIGHT.

Why don't we all just get over it and have a nice cup of tea.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

6 months gone with a child of cheddar pt 2; or What Did You Just Call Me?!

Fairly laid-back Sunday night - was sort of enjoying myself, watching pissed punters singing along to the worst rendition of 'Walking On The Moon' I've ever heard, drinking port and lemonade and not bothering to collect any glasses. Then with classic poo timing, just as I'm about to go and cash up (note: full concentration required while I gather up all the notes from underneath the till) - some staggering, heavy-set gentleman in a stupid hat wanders up and asks 'How long you got left, love?'
- 'Just about to close the bar, mate.'
'No, I meant...' (makes pregnant-style gesture with hands)
'Pardon?' 'Thought I saw a bit of a bump there'

Oh, this shit again.

'No mate, I'm just really fat'.
'Er... er... what can I say, I like the bigger woman' (winking horribly).

Dad, having heard me strop off with the till:
'When's your fucking baby due then, fat boy?' Yeah, have that, you clueless (insert alliterative swear here).

Of course, the offender in question then, by way of redeeming himself, pretends he thought I was dad's girlfriend and heard I was pregnant. Oh, you mean Fi, the tall, slender, blonde-haired barmaid? Yeah right.

Just wondering why some people think it's alright to insult someone like this? And, lets be honest, it is a piss-take, not a genuine enquiry. You'd have to be pretty certain someone was actually having a baby to ask when they're due to drop. Yes, I am quite chubby and I do have a spare tyre but jesus christ, I wouldn't dream of asking an 18 stone woman when she was due unless I was 100% sure.

Besides which, you're the one sitting in a pub at midnight, on your own, drinking pint after pint of shite lager, all of which is going to your not exactly shrinking middle. Do one, and don't you dare speak to me like that again, especially in my condition ;)

Wednesday, 30 March 2011

What a load of old tut.

As always, I've gotten worked up about something, waited until I was in front of a computer so I could vent it all in a blog and, to be quite honest, forgotten why I was even annoyed. Well I sort of remember; it was a bit about Friday Night Dinner and a bit about the ignorance of some of the meat eaters in this town. But I really can't be bothered with any of that now. So, in summary: Friday Night Dinner = wooden acting, painfully un-funny gags, thin meaningless plots, -4/10. Any thoughts here are welcome. That guy from The Inbetweeners just ISN'T funny. Having 2 deaf characters that just say 'what?!' to everything, ISN'T funny. Most of Southend = ignorant, illiterate cavement twits. I found this comment on the echo website underneath the article about The Railway menu going completely vegeterian: "Typical selfish vegans. Everywhere else is expected to cater for vegans on their menu, but when vegans open an eatery they refuse to cater for meat eaters. I hope they fail". Is this fair? I can't help but think that the person who wrote this is quite simply an idiot. Since vegans and vegeterians in this town are very much a minority, it does Southend absolutely no harm to open the FIRST and ONLY Vegeterian-only place in the town. People seem to forget that The Railway only does Sunday Roasts food-wise at the moment, so adding to the menu can only be a good idea. People also seem to think that vegans and vegeterians are just fussy and want to take the moral highground. For me, this isn't it at all, it's just how I was brought up. I had the choice to eat meat once I was old enough to make my own mind up, and I chose not to. I do eat fish (mainly out of convinience), so I would never preach to others about their lifestyle choices, and ask that re-consider their eating habits. If anything, it's the other way round. I don't understand how creating a vegeterian menu is a bad thing in any way. As my whole family have proved, you can live a healthy life not eating meat. Vegan/vegeterian food is really tasty and varied, we don't just live off lentils and nutroast. Somebody else wrote on the article "This offends my human right to have a meal with meat". Well, going into KFC, TGI Fridays or a steak house offends MY human right to have a meal without meat. So shut up. If you really, really can't go without meat for one meal then perhaps you could try popping in to one of the other 30 or so restuarants/cafes in town that do a 'normal' menu. And for those of us who are vegeterian, it will be a nice and refreshing change to be able to choose from anything on the menu, as opposed to 2, maybe 3 options. I might also point out that The Railway is a pub, not a restuarant so they can pretty much do whatever food they want. Perhaps someone can shed some light on what the hell's wrong with this bloody town.

Monday, 28 March 2011


Yesterday, in an act of revenge for dressing him up as a woman, my friend Glen went to town on my face and covered it in blusher, metallic eyeshadow and fashioned a gorgeous handlebar moustache out of black liquid eyeliner; I looked HOT. It made me realise that actually there is no point in moaning about how you look or wasting time worrying if other girls are prettier than you. I'm sure that lots of girls think that life is a competiton. You have to have the most perfectly applied makeup, the shiniest, straightest hair and a wardrobe full of Urban Outfitters/Topshop spring collection. Well, vanity is an ugly trait. So is fake modesty. And you can be the prettiest girl in the world but if you never smile, who would look at you twice? The most attractive trait in the world is laughter and a happy personality. I'll remember that next time I'm scowling in front of the mirror at my stomach or my untidy fringe. So yesterday, my friends saw me with a face full of disgusting looking makeup, and then, after I'd scrubbed it off, with none. They're all still talking to me. There's no point in being fake. There is no point in being so uptight you're afraid to do anything other than pout when posing for a photo. Really beautiful people are the ones with massive grins and don't care about looking 100% perfect. I'm not the perfect weight either, but chocolate makes me happy, so... You can all stop de-tagging yourself now and just appreciate that no one is perfect and, to be honest, no one really cares about how other people look anyway.

Thursday, 10 February 2011

Draft Letter To Heart Radio...

Dear Presenters & Broadcasting team at Heart Radio,

The other day at work, my colleague did me the nicest favour.
He didn't make me a cup of tea (he never does), print off any documents or pick up some lunch for me...
He changed the radio station from 102.6 to 105.1 (Southend Radio).

The only reason this hadn't been done months ago is because for a while, Heart was the only station we could receive. Our choices were to spend hours fiddling with the radio trying to find a half decent reception for radio 1, 2 or even 4 (I won't get started on 3), or sit in silence listening to the clock ticking. Heart was really the only option.

At first I was more than content with this arrangement. Having Heart on in the background put a positive and easy-going spin on an otherwise dreary, dull day. However, after a couple of months of tolerating your unbeliveably non-varied and extremely cringeworthy playlist, I'm now ready to rip the radio out of the socket and hurl it out of the window without opening it first and hopefully through my boss' car windsheild... and/or hack off both my ears with a knife and send them to you by post with a complimentary slip attached reading: ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! written in my own blood.

Your daily selection of songs is so incredibly boring and ridiculous that, if they represented the musical tastes of a woman who, after a date, has taken her date home and put on a CD, the date would have climbed out the window of the bathroom while she'd gone to slip into something more comfortable. Even if the woman was really hot.

At my workplace, the average age is between 20 and 70. Pretty varied, so you'd think there'd be someone your playlist would appeal to. As it is, I'd be willing to bet that, even at volume 2, your station is the reason staff morale is at an all-time low and more than 4 people have left in the past 6 months. I would like to point out that there are only 7 people in our office.

I understand that some songs can be justified as 'timeless', and that, being only 20 years old I may have no concept of what was considered popular music before 1990 but I like to imagine I have quite an eclectic taste in music, from all eras and genres. I'm afraid to say that your slogan, 'More Music Variety' is an absolute load of shit. Your station is the equivalent of the waste bucket we use for dead pints and stuff that's gone off at the bar I also work part-time at.

I have compiled a list for your attention of songs that I, or anyone that isn't deaf, consider NOT to fall under the following categories: Timeless Classics, In the Charts, A Guilty Pleasure or That Song You Haven't Heard In Ages and Forgot You Loved. These can therefore be deleted from your daily selection:

Michael Bublé - Haven't Met You Yet
JLS - Love You More
Ellie Goulding - Your Song
Ceelo Green - Forget You
Starship - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now
Dirty Dancing - Hungry Eyes
Dirty Dancing - Time of My Life
Ronan Keating - When You Say Nothing At All
Take That - The Flood
Eternal - I Wanna Be The Only One

Who didn't love Ellie Goulding's version of Your Song when it was released? BACK IN NOVEMBER?! And Michael Bublé has released at least another 2 songs since then. I won't even go into the rest of them, as thinking about it has made me quite angry.

If you'd be willing to permanently destroy your copies of the above releases, maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement whereby we give you an hour or so's listening before we go home. As soon as I hear the words 'First day that I saw you... thought you were beautiful...' though, and, like I said, out the window.


Rosie Barrett, Constant Whinger

Saturday, 29 January 2011


Fed up of having chest pain

Fed up of being ignored and interrupted

Fed up of looking and feeling tired 24/7

Fed up of feeling like I have no friends

Fed up of the tiniest bit of alcohol making me feel sick

Fed up of living in a dead town with nothing to do at the weekends

Fed up of having a spare tyre

Fed up of dieting

Fed up of being forgetful and clumsy

Fed up of not being able to sleep

Fed up of being in a rush all the time

Fed up of work

Fed up of losing all my belongings

Fed up of scaring myself thinking the worlds going to end

Fed up of not being able to drive yet

Fed up of getting up at midday

Fed up of being in a constant bad mood

Fed up of everything.

Monday, 24 January 2011

I might lose my mind for a while, but I'll be fine.

Have you heard, there's this thing that heals, and it's called time?

Do you ever get this achey, heavy feeling in your chest?
I get it a lot. Things that tend to bring it more than most are nostalgia, anxiety and heartbreak (obviously).

The first - nostalgia - you can't help. I get it when listening to songs that remind me of growing up. Significant events, like birthdays, leaving school, your first kiss, holidays, starting a new job, meeting new friends, etc., always have a song attached to the memory; usually whatever's in the charts at the time, whether you mean for it to stick in your memory bank or not. Don't Look Back In Anger by Oasis reminds me of primary school. Electric Feel by MGMT reminds me of meeting John. That's how you get 'your' song. Listening to those songs again can make you feel all sorts of different things and remind you of how things were at that period in your life. That's why I get chest ache - it reminds me that I was happy then, happier than I am now. Although; you never realise quite how happy you are until you see it in hindsight.
I thought 2008 was the worst year of my life, until 2009. Looking back, it was brilliant. I feel the same about 2010 now. I'll feel the same about 2011 next year, hopefully.

A new year always brings out the creative side I wish I had in me.
A side that wants to learn to play Maple Leaf Rag on piano, make new curtains from my room and go to Jive lessons.

None of those things happen because I just sit and daydream about doing it, instead of actually doing anything. I always kid myself that I don't have the time to do it, when what I really mean is... I sit on my arse and think about really scary, weird things for hours. Then I fall asleep at 4am, and wake up at midday, cursing myself for not hearing my alarm go off at 10. That's why I never have time. I spend all my time getting ready to go to work.

So my question is - how do you turn off your brain and get the motivation to make something of your life? So, instead of regretting never doing all the things you wanted to do, you can reminisce and get the chest ache because you miss doing the things you actually wanted to do. And when you're 80, not next year.

I'm going on the exercise bike... right now.

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Odds and sods//Miscellany//The stuff you might have missed

Most people have an obsession of some kind. It might be of a celebrity, or a hideous brand of cheap stuffed toy or something. Or food.

I am obsessed with roses. Pink ones mainly, but they're all lovely. Whilst writing this, I am wearing a headband with roses on, underwear with roses on, earrings with roses on, a ring with a rose on. I have Dove Wild Rose deodrant on, as well as Paul Smith's Rose perfume. I was also thinking about getting another tattoo of a rose chain around my ankle; I already have a rose fairy on my back. I have a string of rose fairy lights around my bedframe. My... name is Rosie.

Still better that than say, the drummer from Coldplay. Or Tito Jackson.

I'm beginning to hate going out. I'm not sure if it's the people or the drugs or the music or the fact that I'm apparently 50 years old. But whatever it is, I feel awkward and out of place.

Just to go into a bit more detail here...

I am always awkward. I stand awkward and wear awkward fitting clothes. When I meet new people I never know what to say, end up laughing at things that aren't funny and being deadpan at things that are. I'm also extremely clumsy and have the grace, poise and style of an elephant running for a bus. And the elephant was holding a bag, dropped the bag and everything went flying out of it, including sanitary towels. And everyone saw. That's what I'm like.

Sometimes I write things on people's status's or photos on facebook, things that I think are funny or witty, and mostly everyone ignores me or replies 'what the hell?'

My new favourite tea = lavender, oat and lime.

Since Christmas I own approximately 40 pairs of shoes and still only wear about 3 pairs.

9 out of 10 times I will have chest pain or tummy ache. Right now it's chest pain. I don't know what brings it on but I can normally get rid of it with the tartan sack.

I blow up easily, but calm down easily. After a bit. And once I've eaten.