Knock knock. Who’s there? Your cash cow. And your cash gecko.
Cast your mind back to the mid 90s. If you were of a certain age and predilection then, you may have been sucked into the impressive PR stunt that was Beanie Babies. Old muggins over here certainly was. ‘Buy now, cash in later!’ was basically their slogan, as far as I recall.
To help illustrate how valuable my Beanie Baby collection is, I enlisted the help of some friends… it’s a Beanie Baby / Sylvanian Family mash up! Continue reading
What is cool? While I acknowledge that one man’s cool is another man’s dork, my own personal definition of cool seems to be all the little things I spy in other people and long to have as assets of my own. I would certainly never describe myself as cool, what with my penchant for being in bed by 9pm. Continue reading
Warning: contains graphic material. MAN IN PANTS. And out of them.
Some might wonder what it is, to be a feature writer for women’s magazines. You won’t, after reading this.
So, funny story. Continue reading
It’s not easy being a blogger. Something mildly colourful happens and you’re all OMG I HAVE TO BLOG THIS. You whip out your camera (phone) and you hope that one picture later, you’ll have the perfect picture to pimp and prime in one or other of your many photo-editing apps, so it’s 97% better looking than it was, then you can whack it on the blog along with a string of words and call yourself retired for another week. Continue reading
Oh Lindz. I feel your pain.
Social media, you little tyke. You have sucked me in and shown me for what I truly am: nothing but a flagrant show off, strutting my stuff online before I even think to fact-check. I’m like Lindsay Lohan Instagramming an Arabic message that she thought read ‘you’re beautiful’ but actually read ‘you’re a donkey.’
I feel like a bit of an ass myself right now.
Because like Lindsay, I just want to inspire my Instagram followers (all 70 of them – beat that, Lohan.). Continue reading
Look at me, so brave.
In the never ending saga of my big bad bastard back, it’s Magnetic Resonance Imaging week, a clever contraption used to have a peek inside my anatomy and see what’s what. I’ve been looking forward to it for yonks. The poor old NHS had to defer my appointment after the MRI machine caught fire a while back. I know, not exactly a relaxing image for when you’re stuck inside the tube trying not to be claustrophobic. Continue reading
