Tag Archives: Maestro

Booze Makes You More Fun… Discuss.

Posted on December 19, 2011 | 4 Comments

I had my blog birthday the other day. I completely missed that bad boy. Basically I have come to the conclusion that the real reason I started a blog in December 2009 was not heartache but sheer loneliness. It’s almost Christmas and;

•Twinkle’s rehearsing (and opening tomorrow actually… be prepared for Wednesday hangover)
•Irish is in Ireland (doing a play)
•Blondie is off filming some wartime epic
•Flutey is doing Panto
•Maxie is having a baby
•Aussie is picking out puppies back in Australia
•DC is back in the States
•SGF is shagging movie stars in LA
•Eton Boy is slowly morphing into a French duke across the channel

Ergo – Ritzi is one lonely bitch in December.

Good job it’s party season then!

Swooping in to save me from a world of corporate gifts and vacuous drinks events was the Maestro. As per last year, he’d gotten in their first, reserving the last Saturday before Christmas as his very own Chiswick Christmas was back in October. Last year, he provided us with such quality tidbits as;

‘I was going to get a chef in, but they wouldn’t let me’

And, upon smashing a glass;

‘Nobody move! Where the fuck does the cleaner keep the dustpan and brush?!’

Well this year was just as outrageously brilliant. New flatmates, more RSVP’s and one other addition…

‘Ritzi, this is Pierre. Well, he’s not really Pierre, he’s Mark, but I didn’t think that sounded ‘chef’ enough…’

Oh yes, this year, the Maestro got a gourmet chef in to cook his Christmas dinner. Dear lord was it good.

At the table, I found myself wedged between an actress and a phone salesman, both of whom I’d apparently met at Maestro’s birthday dinner earlier this year.

Right. If you say so… (cue Ritzi’s inability tom remember a face unless she’s seen it at least ten times).

‘You’re much more fun tonight,’ the phone salesman announced, very unflatteringly, as we awaited the main course.

‘Am I? Oh thanks,’ at this point I’m a tad bored talking about the one show I work on that they’ve actually heard of, and considering accidentally throwing my wine in this dudes face to break the monotony.

‘Yeah, I don’t know what it is, you’re more… I don’t know… Chilled out.’

‘Right,’ maybe last time I met this guy (if indeed I really did) he carried on a conversation like this. I’m sure that would be enough to wind me up.

Annoyingly, the guy didn’t let it go, and then the actress joined in.

‘I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since Maestro’s birthday dinner!’ She said, after agreeing that I was apparently something of an ice queen at our last meeting.

Wait… almost a year?

‘Maestro, when’s your birthday darling?’ I asked.

’16th of January love!’ He shouted back. Quite loud actually, considering he was but three places down. I think he’d had rather a lot of the vodka cranberry sauce.

Ah… that would explain things. Of course I was a bitch last time the phones4u man and the actress met me. I was stone cold sober in the middle of a January detox.

It appears everything’s more fun with a bit of alcohol (okay, a lot of alcohol) involved. Dinner with strangers, one night stands, late nights in the office… to name but a few.

Are we really at that point when we can’t be interesting without being sloshed? I think it’s a sad but true fact that maybe we are. Remember the Cosmo blogger party with the fake booze? So not fun. The pizza and wine date followed by pub soon after? INFINITELY more amusing.

Can we save sobriety? Or should we just give up now? This seems like the sort of question it’s a little unfair to ponder in December, with more than a hundred potential corporate units lined up in my diary this week.

Are you fun, sober? Think about it. Apparently I’m not.

Well, not when faced with a dinner date with a phone salesman anyway…

RitziCx

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Christmas With The Orchestra

Posted on December 19, 2010 | Leave a comment

I am so full, I don’t think I can eat another thing before ACTUAL Christmas Dinner.

Last night, despite the snowdrift, I managed to make it up and across town, to the Maestro’s lavish Chiswick pad for a Christmas dinner/partay. Armed with a bottle of red and a stylish ensemble that matched my wellies, I set off, and arrived only about twenty minutes later than I would have done if there was no white stuff.

Take that weather man! Snowed in? As if. Fabulousness doesn’t stop just because there’s a couple of inches of slush on the ground!

I arrived at around 6.30, and was greeted with a ‘Christmas Shot’. I soon deduced that the Maestro and his flatmates had been drinking since around midday. There’s a recipe for a successful meal! One unfortunate individual with a hefty derriere, knocked a champagne flute over and glass shards scattered all over the kitchen floor. A simple task to clean up you say? In this house? In the Maestro’s words…

‘Where the fuck does the cleaner keep the dustpan and brush?!’

Oh dear.

The Matador’s job was the turkey. He took this role very seriously. No one was allowed to even LOOK at the turkey, lest they soak up some of it’s juices through their eyeballs.

The Weasley’s job was everything that went with the turkey. He did very well – amazing veggies, honey roasted parsnips, crispy roast potatoes and a very respectable attempt at a festive risotto for me, the lone and difficult vegetarian in the corner.

The Maestro’s job, after swanning around looking fabulous dressed in a Christmas apron and repeating ‘I wanted to get a chef in, but they wouldn’t let me you know’, was the wine cellar.

There were three of these. One, where you may expect, in the kitchen. Here lived twelve bottles of red and an extensive collection of spirits. Despite actually being a drinks cart in the middle of the kitchen, the Maestro showed remarkable commitment by miming ‘heading downstairs to the cellar’ every single time any one needed a top up.

Now, as the fridge was stuffed with food already, he had needed to be a bit more creative when it came to the mixers, six bottles of white, two bottles of rose and the obligatory bottle of prosecco. The answer? Put them on the window sill of course. One outside the dining room, one outside the bathroom. Three floors up. In West London. In the middle of a blizzard.

Three courses and three Christmas karaoke CD’s later, a fleet of cars show up (lord only knows how the rest of London can’t even manage to hail a cab in the snow and the Maestro books five at once) ready to ferry us back to various parts of the Arctic.

The Maestro leaves me with these – completely irrelevant but hilarious all the same – words of wisdom;

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones… but fuck it. I’ve got BUPA.’

Merry Christmas!

RitziC and the crazies of London Town x

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It’s My Party And I’ll Lie If I Want To…

Posted on June 26, 2010 | Leave a comment

So Sunday evening came around at last, and I celebrated rather mutedly I have to admit, in anticipation of my week of planned relaxation vacating in the countryside. As planned (see, it wasn’t just an excuse to get rid of Movie Man) Sneezy-K and I hopped along to the Common to meet Irish, Nora, Maestro and Flutey for a lovely girly dinner.

Nb, Maestro counts as a girl in these circumstances.

Of course, one thing I hadn’t taken into consideration was the existence of FOOTBALL. For fecks sake, even SOUK was showing football, my previously undiscovered magical Moroccan paradise that I’ve since learned is a chain and I just never noticed. Huh.

At last, we found a place that wasn’t showing football – Strada. Boring, a bit rough around the edges, but damn it they had wine and a table and we had the company! Lets take a little moment for a couple of the presents that came at me by the by…

Nora: a varied selection of Green and Blacks Chocolate bars, tied up in a neat little bow to discourage me from devouring them there and then, and a card that litters the ground with sparkle and other magical things whenever it’s opened. Sorry cleaning lady.

Irish: Cutesy keyring for my new flat (when I finally get it), some other lovely trinkets… and condoms.

Ironically, they will probably get used before the keyring does.

Sometimes, my friends know me so well it scares me.

Anyhoo, most important and crigeworthy was the fact that Flutey was there. We haven’t seen each other for bloody ages, and have hardly even texted for months, what with my job being so crazy and her working evenings with her show, which kind of lead me to forget what great mates we really are.

Oops. Did I sleep with a man she’s a bit in love with last week? Yes, yes I did.

The thing is, she’d probably not be all that surprised if I told her. She knows what I’m like – and she knows what he’s like – and she’s fully aware that I’m not likely to fall in love with the guy since she’s been with me through more than my fair share of heartache over the years, but I just couldn’t bring myself to mention it, especially as it was my birthday dinner and everyone was there so there was hardly an opportune moment.

She later proceeded to demand that I join her in a couple of weeks to see Forbidden’s final show. I think I’m going to be conveniently busy… but that doesn’t mean Forbidden won’t open his big mouth. Yikes.

This is a bit of a dilemma folks, and could be used as a argument against doing what I’m doing at the moment. I’m sure there’s some kind of ‘Ho’s over Bro’s’ analogy that could be reworded to work in this situation.

But all drama aside, with dinner finished and Irish and Nora retiring for the evening because they’re boring (not really – they actually have early rehearsals and flights respectively but whatever) Flutey, Sneezy-K, Maestro and I decide we are not quite finished with our Sunday evening. Instead, we discover that 2 friends of ours (well, friends of mine and Flutey’s) are playing a gig down the road in a bar that serves COCKTAILS.

My mind is made up – to the flute mobile!

A few hours later I had to drag Sneezy away from a rather dishy looking chap who’d just invited her to add him on facebook (I was dragging her away before she garbled drunken gibberish at him too much by the way, it was a kindness. I’m sure she’ll shag him at a later date) and I took my time saying heartfelt goodbyes to the two rock stars (one of which I desperately want to have my way with, especially when he’s singing. Wowzer) before making my escape with Sneezy on one arm and my raffle prizes in the other.

That’s right… cocktails and a raffle! Could this impromptu evening get any better?

Well, I’m glad you asked actually… on the way back I received a text from Almost Famous, who I’d drunkenly texted earlier that evening as I’d just agreed to go and watch Nora’s band play a gig in Brighton next week, where he conveniently lives these days.

‘Are you about on July 2nd?’ (I had texted) ‘Going to watch a gig and wondered if you mind me shamelessly using you as a bed?’

To which I got the reply…

‘Brazen. Yeah I’m around. Use me ;)‘

Maybe I will, Almost Famous… maybe I will.

Til next time,

RitziCx

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Simon Webbe Could Do With Some Heels Like Mine

Posted on May 31, 2010 | 1 Comment

Evening folks,

Well, I just got back from watching Simon Webbe (him from Blue) in his first performance in Sister Act and I have to say… I was pleasantly surprised. Aside from being a bit on the short side, he’s damn sexy and has a great voice… although I’ll always be a fan of Chris Jarman (mainly because I find it amusing that a man so ridiculously gay could play a man so ridiculously straight) the show could do a lot worse.

More importantly, I put on a damn good show for the influential industry types I casually bumped into in the bar during the interval (around about the time a certain producer was buying a round – score) and looked FABULOUS in one of the magical dresses I’d forgotten I had. Clad in emerald green, grecian and gold embroidered wonderment matched with some spindly stilettos and hollywood curls, even the Maestro said he’d do me… and he’s a big gay, so my self esteem was, shall we say, through the roof.

And so, Maestro and I talked the talk and walked the walk (kinda tricky in my shoes) and made enough of a good impression to sneak away with our drinks after five minutes without feeling too guilty. Too early to see if it will pay off right now, but stay tuned people…

I’ll leave whatever foot fetish fans I have with my well pedicured tootsies, taking a well earned rest. Sorry TFL… but if trains were more regular I wouldn’t have had to stand and wait for so long…

Ciao!

x2_17cf6e6

RitziCx (and her feet)

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I Am A Subconscious Match-Making GENIUS

Posted on April 29, 2010 | Leave a comment

So last night I went to watch the wonderful Kerry Ellis in Oliver! (the exclamation mark is sadly part of the title… I wouldn’t have put it there otherwise just so’s you know)

I swiped myself a pair of freebies and asked the ether of facebook if anyone wanted to come with me, almost instantaneously, two of my gay buddies (who have never met each other) commented and began to fight it out over which one deserved the ticket more. To avoid the handbags at dawn, I promptly bagged myself another ticket and informed both Rich Boy and the Maestro that they could both come along.

It was only around the time I left the for theatre that I realised I was going out for the evening with two gay men, both of whom are single, attractive, and have decent careers.

Good lord! (I thought to myself) I have inadvertantly signed up to be a third wheel for the evening!

Hilarity ensued after the show – which was pretty good as far as thigh slapping cockney musicals go – when we cabbed it over to Soho House (lazy) and systematically drank our way through their wine list. Rich Boy, who is the one with the Soho House members card, waited for the Maestro to disappear to the bathroom before he turned to me and said;

“Tell me quickly – Maestro is gay, isn’t he?”

I scoffed, as only one with drunken memories from previous nights out burned forever into her eyelids can do, and replied with a rather nineties; “Uh… duh!”

The Maestro returned, and when Rich Boy wandered of in search of gold plated cigarettes he turned to me with EXACTLY the same question.

Seriously boys, sort your gaydar out.

So Rich Boy is going to take the Maestro out on a date. Bless. The most exciting part of my own personal evening was reading Maxie G’s latest blog on my blackberry (after receiving a text from Maxie that read: Sorry it’s late. Read. My. Blog. Xx) and then promptly dialling Vienna and screaming down the phone at the LEGENDARY woman.

I need to get me some.

Darn it, this whole ‘having a career’ thing is proving tricky to juggle with the old social life at the moment. I’ve almost forgotten what Nicole looks like. This needs recifying.

Not tonight though. For tonight… we sleep.

*BEADS FLOWERS FREEDOM HAPPINESS*

Ciao

RitziCx

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