Not Tonight...Little Tomato

Ok, I am feeling increasingly bad for my ridiculously poor timing on starting a weekly feature and not being able to see it through until I return from my graduation holiday with my darling parents in mid August. Note to self; Work on timing. So, here, and this really is the last one, is another song that has been my motivational song for years now.

Whenever someone is feeling blue I send them these marvellous lyrics and just typing them out plants a smile between my chubby cheeks (my cheeks were so chubby as a child that my doctor - and Sister's Godmother - told my mother she couldn't be a hundred per cent sure whether I had Mumps or not as the usual test was to see if the child looked like a hamster, and apparently I always looked like a hamster. Why then in the knowledge that I constantly resembled a hamster did my mother feel it necessary to have my auburn locks styled into the classic bowl cut? A wonky bowl cut at that. Did she want to draw attention to the chubbiness of my cheeks!? This is surely child cruelty!) where it remains for the whole day.

My mother's brother and wife introduced me to the Pink Martinis years ago and I have been obsessed with them ever since. I love how through one album you can be transported from a Parisian cafe to the hill tops of Spain and then over to Brazil. It's like a world cruise in the comfort of your living room. Bazinga!  

The Pink Martinis hail from America - Portland, Oregon to be precise - but have ancestry from all over the world and are very much inspired by this. Their songs are sung in English, French, Spanish, Japanese and even Arabic. Some songs have words and some don't. Most of the songs (or the first three albums that I own) I love with the exception of only a small handful.  

The song for this post is, as I said, one that really motivates me whatever my heart aches. Loss, love, work or just the sadness that has made up the news of late I find myself turning to this song at some point. When my Nanny, my Grandpa, my Little Dragon passed away I turned to this song. When my university refused, point blank, to let my teaching practice take place in a special needs school; when my female flatmate slapped our friendship in my face; when any boy took the piss, this song was there. My close friends will know it as it is my classic go-to song whenever grey skies threaten to ruin my day. I text the lyrics to Dynasty only yesterday. So here is one of my favourite all time songs to help motivate you if you ever feel blue...

P.S. The introduction is over a minute long, but please wait around for the words because China Forbes' mellow and relaxing voice is worth it. As ever, just click the title...

Pink Matinis 'Hang On Little Tomato'

The sun has left and forgotten me, it's dark I cannot see,
Why does this rain pour down I'm gonna drown in a sea of deep confusion,
Somebody told me I don't know who,
whenever you are sad and blue,
and you're feeling all alone and left behind,
just take a look inside you and you'll find,

You gotta hold on, hold on through the night,
Hang on, things will be all right,
even when it's dark and not a bit of sparkly
sing song sunshine from above spreading rays of sunny love,

Just hang on, hang on to the vine,
Stay on, soon you'll be divine,
If you start to cry, look up to the sky,
Somethings coming up ahead to turn your tears to dew instead,

And so I hold on to this advice,
when change it hard and not so nice,
if you listen to your heart the whole night through,
your sunny someday will come one day soon to you!

(Please note that I don't own this song or its lyrics. All rights go to Pink Martinis...)
I am not going to lie, I just had a sneaky listen and sang that out for all to hear. Literally. My bay window is open and I live on the ground floor. Thank goodness I am moving out tomorrow then. Right, I am off to pack for my holiday but promise to return with photos of Europe at its best, songs enough to fill this blog for the next year and a tan to justify my Grandmothers description of me as a 'You know, White person with a tan'. It's pronouced Italian Grandma, but thanks.

Not Tonight...you, Wild Horses

I have just had a thought; as I am off on holiday in a few days time I will probably not be able to post a motivational song for next week. This does not bode well seeing as I have only just begun this wee song post marlakey. They do say timing is everything. So, I have decided to post another (yes, another...it's just all too exciting!) song this week and hopefully you won't begrudge me taking a holiday.

The next song I have chosen is completely different from my song for Dynasty. There is not a massive story with this song, I just really like it. I have been raping the repeat button on it for well over two months now and I am not bored of it in the slightest. In fact, I think it gets more beautiful which each listen. It most definitely helped me from killing my flatmates during my final assignments at university as well as distracting me when waiting for my wee niece to be born. I remember listening to the original Rolling Stone's version as a child but Charlotte Martin's cover is so beautifully haunting that every time I hear it I imagine I am sitting on my sofa on a winter's night with a handsome (by handsome I, of course, mean a 6ft, chubby-ish, built like a rugby player type with a very geeky glint in his eye. Standard) chap who only has to look at me to send shivers running up and down my spine as fast as a particularly speedy rocket. I find it that haunting. And don't look so perplexed, I can have a romantic thought from time to time you know. It's only a small commitment issue I have, don't blow it out of the water. Sheesh!

So here, one week ahead of schedule is my chosen song;

Charlotte Martin's cover of Wild Horses ...lyrics and all (simply press the title...)

Childhood living is easy to do
Things that you wanted, well I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands

And wild horses couldn't drag me away
And wild horses couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

And wld horses couldn't drag me away
And wild horses couldn't drag me away

I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
And I have my freedom but I don't have much time
Faith has been broken, and tears must be cried
So let's do some living, after we'll die

And wild horses couldn't drag me away
And wild horses couldn't drag day

And wild horses couldn't drag me away
And wild horses couldn't drag me away

No, couldn't drag me away

I always, always thought when I was a kid listening to The Rolling Stones that the lyric read 'no sweeping exes, on or off stage lines'. It has proved very difficult to sing the correct words now. If you see a chubby brunette singing about 'sweeping exes' please don't laugh (perhaps ask me to stop, but don't laugh), I have sung the wrong lyrics for too long to start changing them now. Join in with me instead, I do like a song and dance number after all.

(Please note that I don't own this song ot its lyrics...)

Not Tonight...Dynasty

I don't know about you but Monday mornings are something that do not put a smile on my face. Far from it. My weekends are always filled with too many wonderful things that by the time Sunday evening rolls around I get that all too familiar Sunday evening knot in the pit of my stomach. I have always been the same (which is a phrase I seem to be using a lot in this blog. Perhaps I have not changed one iota since I was 10? That is a rather worrying thought), I remember when I was in year 6 and was so thoroughly engrossed in 'Pride and Prejudice' that when each of Sunday's episodes was over a double blow to the stomach would take place; a whole week until the next installment of Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley (I had such a crush on Crispin Bonham-Carter back in the day. Wait, I still do *sighs*) and all the Miss Bennett's AND school in the morning. To top it all, not one person at my school seemed to be watching this amazing adaptation, so I couldn't even converse about how dishy Mr Bingley was and how wicked Mr Wickham had turned out to be (who, as it happens, lives not too far from my humble abode and always smiles at me whenever I walk passed him. It's a day maker, every time. Mr Wickham - ok, ok, Adrian Lukis - has become rather dashing with age). Come to think of it, there was one other at school who was glued to the goings on at Longbourn but that happened to be the other year 6 class teacher and I was hardly going to rock up to her and say 'Hey, Mrs. B. Soooo, what did you think of Colin Firth diving into the lake? Hot stuff or what!?' I feel boundaries would have been crossed there. Inappropriate boundaries. Although I do remember her asking if I was excited for the final episode and almost deafening the poor woman with my 'OH MY GOD!! TOTALLY!! YES!!' response. What can I say, when I like something, I get excited about it.

Anyway, I seem to be going off on a tangent which my English lecturer warns me that "I must try my very best not to". My reason for this post is that I'm thinking of trying something new. Well, not new exactly, adapted slightly would be better. During my final teaching practice I tried to email The Darling One, The Blonde One's Twin (not The Blonde One's actual twin, one of her is quite enough, but a friend who has taken on this persona and I simply can't remember why) and The Feline One a song everyday if I could to motivate us all through the hardship of our teaching practice. It's not that we didn't love our placements, but they are bloody hard work. You are on show At. All. Times, and if something goes awry it seems like the whole world may crash and burn at your feet. When you get into your stride, however, and you're teaching on your own there is nothing better. That's definitely a new teacher talking, isn't it. Get back to me in 20 years and I'll probably be rocking in a corner muttering 'Don't make me teach'. I paint a picture, don't I!?

So here is my idea; because I loved these wee motivational songs such a huge amount and because I find Monday mornings can be so distressing I have decided to post a wee song on my blog once a week to help motivate us all. It could be any song from the latest song I am raping the repeat button on to a beautiful piece of classical music that will keep me calm during the week ahead. There will always be a little story to tell you lucky lot why I have chosen that particular song and I will try, as much as humanly possible, to write out the lyrics. I don't know about you but I LOVE to sing along with all songs. Even songs I'm not a fan of. That's just how I roll.


Songs have always had a way of changing my mood and evoke feelings of pure elation through memory, atmosphere or just because they are damn catchy, so I'm hoping you feel the same.

Today's pick is going to be dedicated to Dynasty. Not only is she the bees bloody knees but she has also had some crappy news this week and if my little song can lift her spirits then so help me Zeus I will do it. It is so hard to choose though, from dirty hip hop tunes (Dynasty has a penchant for them I'm afraid, but some of the lyrics are just too naughty for this blog. And this from the girl that uses the C word) to cheesy musical extravaganzas, I have so many songs that I associate with this girl.

In the end, I plucked this song from a list of her favourites. I don't know it all that well, but here for Dynasty is a song I hope will lift her spirits for the rest of the week;

Nobody move, nobody get hurt

(please note that I do not own these lyrics, they belong to We Are Scientists...)

The day, you move, I'm probably gonna explode
It's true, I'm probably gonna explo-oh-oh-oh-oooh
Woah-oh-oh-oh-ooh
You'll pray, for proof, I'm probably makin' this up
It's true, I'm probably makin' this u-uh-uh-uh-ooh
Woah-oh-oh-oh-ooh
Because...

My body is your body
I won't tell anybody
If you wanna use my body
Go for it, yeah
My body is your body
I won't tell anybody
If you wanna use my body
Go for it, yeah
Go for it, yeah

If no-one moves, then nobody's gonna get hurt
Don't move, 'cause nobody wants to get hu-uh-uh-uh-ooh
Woah-oh-oh-oh-ooh
We'll pray, for proof, I'm probably makin' this up
It's true, I'm probably makin' this u-uh-uh-uh-ooh
Woah-oh-oh-oh-ooh
Because...

My body is your body
I won't tell anybody
If you wanna use my body
Go for it, yeah
My body is your body
I won't tell anybody
If you wanna use my body
Go for it, yeah
Go for it, yeah

Because...

My body is your body
I won't tell anybody
If you wanna use my body
Go for it, yeah
My body is your body
I'm not just anybody
If you wanna use my body
Go for it, yeah
Go for it, yeah

All you have to do is press the title of the song (it's in orange) and hey presto! you will be listening to this ditty through the magic of YouTube. So, let's all just say a quick 'Fuck you, Monday' and have a dance...I dare you!

If you're going to mess up, do it royally...

I don't know about you but if I do something I put my whole self into it, none of this half hearted crap. This is the same with everything in my life, even fucking up. When I do it I do properly. So recently when I fucked up, I fucked up royally. Naturally it sucks, it sucks giant donkey testicles. Why must I listen to others and aggravate a situation? This would not have happened to my six year self I am telling you. She would have put her foot down and said 'no, no, I do actually know what I'm doing, hush your noise now other people'. However, me, today at the supposedly wiser 26 years needs all the help she can get. Or at least sometimes I do. Other times I look back on a situation and think, hang on a tick tock, I did know what I was doing and if I had simply listened to myself and not others I'd be flying right now. Damn! But this 'knowing-what-I'm-doing' malarkey is such a rarity when it comes to love that I tend to shy away from my own opinions and religiously rely on the advice of others. Recently though it has resulted in that royal fucking up I was telling you about. Did I mention it sucked!? Giant donkey testicles!? Oh, I did. 


I am forever missing the opposite sexes 'signs' when it comes to relationships, misreading them or my personal favourite, realising exactly what the sign meant a year too late. I remember a time when conversing with the first boy I ever loved about four months after our break up at the tender age of 17 and missing a fairly big sign. A massive sign in fact. The sign in question was flashing in neon colours and was less of a sign and more of a 'I still fucking like you' but I still missed it. Let me elaborate; my ex and I were having one of our usual hour long phone conversations of which I was apparently on top form, 'Jo, you make me laugh. You just always make me smile. All the time!' was uttered. What a prat for missing that sign, I hear you say! We had dated after all. It gets worse. Oh, does it get worse. Yep, I missed that sign and just thought he was being nice, he was a nice guy after all, but there is more. Later on the conversation moved onto 'if we liked anyone' (we were only 17 after all) and my first love said 'Oh, there's just one girl I like, I guess. She just always makes me smile. All the time!'...yes, I missed that one too. As I was sitting on my lilac bedspread (I confess, I owned a lilac bedspread. I can hear Dynasty and The Blonde One mocking me now) on the phone to my lovely ex, the boy I still loved, I remember thinking 'I wish I was that girl'. It was only after a few months when recalling the phone call to The Blonde One that I suddenly realised he was talking about me. Or perhaps The Blonde One had to point it out to me, I forget now. What a clueless idiot I was. How The Blonde One remaind my friend after that I will never know. She clearly thought I would need all the help my chubby little hands could get. I still do. In fact, I think I'm getting worse.

Although I can now tell when a guy likes me (yes, I have completed the first course of 'dating for moron's' as you can see. Excellent), I still find it hard to know when 'like' turns into 'relationship'. I'm telling you I've not a flipping clue. Not one. I'm thinking of hiring a PA to 'read between the lines' of those naughty text messages or someone's 'hidden meaning'. I hate hidden meanings. It was so much simpler in year 6 when two boys would present themselves to you after break and say 'we both like you, so who is going to be your boyfriend?' At the time I thought this was the hardest decision I had ever made. I took a whole day to decide, practically a lifetime when you're 11. I must say though, the one I chose did end up being my boyfriend for a Whole Month. That's marriage in year 6 terms, right!?

So as I sit here in my wee flat I can't help but think that I need a new plan. I don't think they'll let me complete the next level of 'dating for moron's' once they've read this so...I'm all ears. It's either that or my dying-alone-with-no-one-noticing-until-I-am-half-eaten-by-rabbits-and-can-only-be-identyfied-by-my-dental-records (I don't even own a rabbit) fantasy is going to start rearing its ugly head again.

Nerves, do your worst...!

Confrontation is not my strong suit and why should it be? I don't like creating tension for tensions sake and I find it all highly unnecessary. Is it really a big deal if your opinion differs slightly from your friends? No, no it isn't. Is it so wrong to like the world when everyone just gets along!? Dynasty and I disagree on so many aspects of life, the most important obviously being that she does not love Harry Potter. Not even the books. I mean come on!! In all honesty we don't have the same opinions on many more pressing subjects than Harry Potter (although, clearly that's up there) but we respect each others opinions and we move on. Of all the heated debates Dynasty and I have had we have never, not once in our 7 year (or is it 8 now!? Exciting!) friendship fought or had anything remotely resembling an argument.

All this being said, as I sit on this rather vile Southern Rail train (whenever I travel anyway else in the country, coming back to Southern Rail is always a huge disappointment) back to my flat south of the Thames I am feeling feisty. Beyond feisty. I'm so full of nerves about the day ahead that I may, at any moment, break into a full song and dance act (I'm favouring a Liza Minnelli number at the moment...a bit of cabaret with your Sunday travel. No?). I'm hoping it'll be just enough to rid me of all this nervous energy. This day shouldn't leave me feeling nervous, far from it. It should be so mundane that it barely even registers in my mind, and yet here I am with a stomach full of butterflies that just won't sit still. I'll put you out your misery here and tell you that my day is going to be spent cleaning my flat so that we can get our deposit back. That's all. So why all the fuss? Because this means I have to spend the day with my female flatmate. And there is no doubt in my mind that with my female flatmate will be the ever judging parental units and possibly a sister or two.

I was once very close to this girl but as time has moved on she has pushed herself further and further away. And I can honestly say I have no idea why. She has done this to nearly everyone I know so I am trying not to take it personally but when someone is a friend that task proves rather difficult. She was always so petrified that she would be walked all over that she has ended up royally screwing me over instead. It hurts. A lot. Perhaps she is not quite so naive as I once thought. Perhaps I am the naive one. Either way, the rude text message I received yesterday prompting me to help clean the flat was all it took to create these nerves. Especially the added 'if you can't make it, I'll make sure I leave some cleaning for you' was just special. What a gem to the human race she is. She has barely shown her face in the flat since December and has not spoken to me since I wished her a happy birthday in March, and what's worse is that she plays the victim so well that I'm sure half of Essex is cursing mine and my male flatmates very name. So the thought of spending the whole day with her and those parents in tow is more than I can bare without a few nerves. I'm betting only a samurai sword is going to cut this tension. And I simply despise tension.

I have decided to take a bet with myself on what disapproving thing I have done this time; the fact that you can see my cleavage perhaps (this is unfair, of course. My breasts are naturally large and I even have cleavage in a polo neck. They're cheating if they take that one); perhaps I will be too tanned; the fact that I am going abroad on holiday instead of camping; the fact that I am middle class (why someone still thinks about the unimportance of class is beyond me); if I say one word against our university, but I think the one I am going to go for is if I dare to use sarcasm. This is as frowned upon as murder itself it would seem. So forgive me if this once I end up being something other than politeness itself. My mother who drummed these manners into me said that today, if I am crossed she thinks a sarcastic comment may be acceptable. And if she said so it must be ok. Although, I think sickeningly polite manners may go along way also...

...however, if you do see a large breasted, short brunette in tanned shorts and white shirt running around south of the river Thames with a crazed look on her face, please come and rescue me. I always reward kindness with Nutella!

Most odd...

I notice that in my previous post 'The llama's pyjama's...' the writing is bunched up together like a pair of star crossed lovers. I have no idea how this happened, it did not appear like this on the 'preview' and I have no clue how to change it. Not even half a clue. My knowledge on ICT (will always be IT in my heart. The 'C' is just not needed! There, I said it) is slim to none and so I'm afraid you will just have to don your best reading glasses and power through it. 


I would like to promise that this will never happen again, but my mother taught me never to lie. Instead, I shall leave you with  joke to keep you bloody lovely lot sweet so you won't get cross with me... (this joke was found on the wonderful world of twitter on the 20th July as part of the Phone Hacking scandal surrounding News International...) *clears throat* Ahem...


...Why did David Cameron cross the road? 
He has no idea, it was not his fault and he's just as appalled as the rest of us! 


I hope you enjoyed. 


Josephine x

The Llama's Pyjamas...

It's so silly how the simplest of things can affect you in such a positive way but it is delightful the way our mind works. Grand gestures are often lost on me. Someone once bought me a star for my birthday and although it was probably the sweetest gift I ever received hearing that it was 'the most generous gift I have ever heard of' and 'My God, what a thoughtful idea!' by the said friends father (and said friend come to think it) again, and again, and AGAIN just deemed the beautiful gesture too much. Little tokens with no fuss or mess is what I like.

I spent the weekend with The Blonde One and it was pure bliss. Even with her mocking of my tears during Harry Potter (it's frigging sad, ok!). At least I wasn't scared. Ha! Being joined on the Sunday by Dynasty was the Nutella icing on the chocolate-weekend cake. I don't know what it is about our mocking based conversations that leaves me so elated but those two little gems really are the cream of British friendship. And before you imagine us as the three bitchy Macbeth witches, we mock each other only not others. This mocking tickles me such a lot that during our Sunday lunch my nostrils were fizzing with Diet Coke (asked for a full fat coke but there you have it) and frozen yoghurt. I can only liken the feeling to when I spent too much time as a child diving in and out of the swimming pool on holiday. A truly bizarre feeling during lunch though that's for sure. From The Blonde One pointing out that 'these jeans would be nice if they weren't horrid' to my 'it's all wet now that's it raining. It was nice and dry before it rained' there was barely a moment that didn't involve one of us crying with laughter...maybe you had to be there. What can I say, we like to state the obvious but these statements need to be mocked before they slip into our everyday conversation. It's the way it's always been and long may it continue.

Before this lunch of laughter even took place though my day had been made when The Blonde One sneakily bought herself, me and Dynasty 'modern day adult friendship' bracelets. They are, quite simply, the llama's pyjamas. She bought two sets of three coloured string bracelets with attached charms and we separated them like so; The Blonde One's charms are a bird and a star; Dynasty's charms are a bird and a heart and mine are a heart and a star. See what we did there!? Our bracelets are from Topshop but I'm positive you could find a suitable similar from just about any shop if you were ever thinking of being THIS cool.

Although I really want to confess to you all that I feel juvenile for wearing my bracelets, I can't. They are the sort of bracelet I would wear anyway and I love that the girls have matching ones. They make me smile whenever I look down at my wrist and they remind me that with friends like mine everyone else shove their heads down a toilet. And flush.

... I may even colour co-ordinate my wedding to match the blue and brown string. Or is that too far!?