Tag Archives: Nicole

Mother Always Said Be Kind To Strangers…

Posted on November 25, 2011 | 4 Comments

When was the last time you bumped into someone you didn’t know and smiled? Hmm? I’m betting never… unless you live in the countryside as opposed to London, then you might actually be nice to people from time to time. Londoners, however, do not generally say howdy to strangers. And if a stranger says howdy to us, we immediately decide that they must be trying to rape and/or murder us.

It was a Sunday afternoon – Nicole and I had been defeated by public transport on our way to the Christmas Fayre in Angel (curse you Victoria line), and resorted to walking (in sturdy yet fabulous heels) from Kings Cross Station. On the way, we stopped at a crossing waiting for the lights to change, when a lost looking Irish girl politely  interrupted our raucous conversation about Saturday night’s frivolities and asked if we might be able to point her in the direction of the Business Centre.

“Oh, are you going to the Christmas Fayre?” I asked. “We are too, it’s still quite a way but it’s a pretty straight road. We’re going too so you can just follow us.”

Well, she did. And the three of us had a merry old journey, chatting away about our vastly different industries (theatre vs fashion) and other such things. We’d almost reached the centre, when she used the magic words.

“Have you guys got tickets?”

We did in fact have one have one, and were intending on trying to blag our way in on a single ticket, due to it being nearly the end and the bloody things costing an arm and a leg or suck it up and pay for a second one so Nicole could get in (mine was free… obviously. I don’t carry money, I’m like the queen).

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a spare,” she said, handing it to Nicole. “You can have it – they gave me two as a promo thing. I’m supposed to pick out suppliers I like for work so I got a free pair.”

And so, after a quick email address exchange, Nicole and I wandered through a haven of magical Christmas fabulousness all afternoon for absolutely no money at all.

Why thank you kind stranger!

Faith in the human race, restored. So smile at a stranger today – go on, try it! Worst that will happen is they will think you’re going to rape and/ or murder them.

RitziCx

*PS if you can tell me what the title of this post is from you get a prize.

Unless you are my SGF because it’s just too darn easy for you.

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Nicole And The Circus Freak

Posted on September 20, 2011 | Leave a comment

Gone are the days when Nicole and I would while away our lunch hours seeing how many Margaritas we could polish off before the bill came. Nowadays we have serious time consuming jobs ya know, but when we DO get together for a catch up – boy is it worth it.

Nic’s been playing a rather successful West End dating game of late, but despite some remarkable (and frankly jaw-droppingly gorgeous) notches on her bedpost, she’s found herself the object of affection for yet another Circus Freak.

Nb – not an actual Circus performer. That would be hot. Coincidentally if any Cirque Du Soleil or bendy Batman Live cast members are reading, I’m free on Thursday. Anyhoo.

Nic was out a few nights back with her work buddies, casually ignoring the Circus Freak texts that had been landing in her inbox all week. Even after telling him very clearly that she wasn’t interested, he just would not give up. So, as a compromise, she dropped into conversation that she was having a drink round the corner with her friends, and he could join. She supposed.

Of course he showed up. He bought drinks, turned on the charm, and flirted his (no doubt rather toned) arse off, but to no avail. She simply was not interested.

In an attempt to let him down gently, she explained that although she was sure he was lovely, she’s opted out of the dating game for a while due to a recent run of total dickheads and players, and has no interest in seeing ANYone at the moment.

After he left all disheartened and gloomy, and she continued to be fabulous, she received the following:

‘Really lovely to see you tonight. I’d have stayed out only for two shows tomorrow. It’s really hard to get to know someone in a club, let’s meet up and I’ll show you that not all the guys you meet are idiots.. etc etc’.

Oh dear, that’s nice and all but… still not interested.

Then a few days later, a text asking her out. Polite – if slightly frustrated – decline.

Then AGAIN the next night!

Until finally:

‘Your a fine looking lady, I’m not into getting serious, two years single and counting. we could have a lot of fun together if we both know were we stand and are both adult enough to understand the ground rules. Cheeky I know, but I’m very honest’.

Honest AT LAST it seems. So the whole, ‘taking her out and showing her not all guys are idiots’ thing… where did that go Monsieur La Clique? Huh?

She replied. Correcting his grammar. Atta girl.

Though I get the feeling this is faaaar from over.

Stay tuned!

RitziCx

Oh and PS… Cosmo Blog Awards? Fricking VOTE FOR ME!

*does a happy dance*

Ciao x

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Lesbian Hairdo’s and Apple Picking in France

Posted on September 6, 2010 | Leave a comment

‘Tell me why… I don’t like Mondays, tell me why… etc etc etc…’

Geez, Monday’s are a major mission. I’ve learned in recent months that it is wise to avoid talking to pretty much ANYONE in my office until at least 11 o’clock. Seriously, before the third coffee of the day, actual conversation is just not worth it. You’ll either get your head bitten off or get given a tonne of extra work to do. This is why I was so relieved to finally be able to reinstate Monday lunches with Nicole. Admittedly, on account of my current professionalism (and low funds due to the move) I’m not back on Monday Margaritas yet (although I’ve been making up for it with Tuesday… Wednesday… Thursday… you get the picture) but I’m well on the way back to the routine.

And what would a routine Monday lunch be without Nicole waving up at me as I dangle precariously over her pit of despair in a vain attempt to drag her out of it? This week’s dilemna…

“Look at me – I have lesbian hair!” Nicole declared over a jacket potato with cheese and beans.

Um… what?

Nicole; fabulous, gorgeous, wonderful Nicole, has gotten herself a haircut (not as drastic as she makes it sound). She’s gone from just longer than shoulder length to just shorter than shoulder length, and it looks fabulous. Now of course, she claims that this – added to other non-existent short comings – has her under the ridiculous impression that she shouldn’t even bother any more. She explained her theory to me;

“Now, listen to the whole thing before you spit your potato out at me, because it’s not me putting myself down, it’s just an observation.” she warns, a threatening fork jabbed in my general direction. “I’ve been thinking, it doesn’t matter how much effort I make, or what I look like, or how I act – the fact is that men just aren’t interested, they aren’t. So, what’s the point in caring? It’s not going to make a difference anyway.”

Oh… right. That’s not self deprecating AT ALL. I muse on this particular point for a half a moment before telling Nicole in not so many words just how much of a muppet she really is. This is not a healthy theory, but it could be. If she’d come to slightly more reasonable conclusion that I have – ie that her own hang ups about herself have made her awkward and uncomfortable and therefore this is what is keeping the men away. Learn to love yourself and the cocks start standing to attention, and whatnot. If you build it…

The drama continues.

Later, in another slightly more upmarket part of London, Maxie G and I were sharing a farewell bottle of bubbly (belonging to her soon to be ‘left’ husband by the way – oh my we are bad) before she buggers off to France tomorrow morning on the 6am ferry.

“What are you going to do over there?” I ask, enthralled by the romantic idea of being in that unique position of having no mortgage and no ties to anything in London except a car and a dog (both of which are portable).

“I’m going to pick apples and learn to speak French.” Maxie replies.

Well… that’s that then. Maybe I should kidnap Nicole when I inevitably go to visit Maxie. Maxie G’s natural fabulousness is infectious, and I’m thinking Nicole could do with a hefty dose.

Back in the South West – Twinkle’s ex army man has deleted her from facebook and is refusing to return her calls. He dumped her and now he’s trying to turn it on her, saying she hurt him and turning the whole shitty situation around to make her feel guilty!

All together now… “WHAT A TWAT!”

Can you blame me for losing all faith in the male of the species at the moment? Quite frankly, if the Broadway Producer turns out to be a homo I’m off to the Palladium on October 31st to dig a habit and a wimple out of the trash.

“Hello, Addison Lee? How far to the nearest convent?”

Night ;)

RitziCx

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Saturday Night Insanity

Posted on May 22, 2010 | Leave a comment

Good day all!

First of all I must mention that I went to see Alice in Wonderland on Friday, to review it forwww.theblogpaper.co.uk and although I can’t say anything about the (awesome) film now, I’ll definitely put a link on here to the article when it’s up at the end of the week!

So Saturday night. Supposedly, Nicole and my glorious return to the world of Ensemble Bingo… hmm. Didn’t work out so well!

Went to meet Nicole from work, late late late at night and found her drinking in our favourite watering hole with some of the guys she works with. I used to work with them too, before I began my fabulous new career, so there was a bit of warm and fuzzy reunion goodness going on. However, it was bloody difficult to get away from the clutches overfriendly ex-workmates. Bless their testosterone levels. Eventually, we escaped and scarpered to our underground den of members only goodness, staggering only slightly in our ridiculous heels.

To say there was a distinct lack of talent would be an understatement. All looked to be going well to begin with, with Russell Tovey (that chap from Being Human who’s oddly intriguing but unfortunately a big gay) at the bar when we went in. My immediate plan was to lasso a nearby queen and use him as a distraction so I could steal Russell’s phone and get Aidan Turner’s number (the Irish one, not the squeaky clean american one)but alas, my plan died when Russell left the bar.

I did get free cake. That was good. Apparently it was someone’s birthday, because all of a sudden this piece of cake magically appeared in front of me. (That may have had something to do with the amount of free alcohol that kept coming my way mind you…)

The free alcohol came from the strangely attractive but a little bit creepy barman who Nicole gave her number to a couple of weeks ago. And one surprise one from my friend who was once a main character in a massive Hollywood movie but noone knows because you didn’t actually see his face. Bless. Anyhoo, there were lots of free drinks.

Before we actually got bladdered though, Nicole realised that she didn’t actually fancy him that much. This is unfortunate because I figure if she sleeps with him we might be able to guarantee free drinks forever. The weirdly attractive barman kept bringing us drinks and coming over to chat, which kept us from perusing the bar from potential bingo targets. It wasn’t that much of a problem though, since everyone was rubbish. Seriously. What a waste of an outfit.

Then to make matters worse a guy came in with a gaggle of snooty looking friends. This guy – I curse the day he was born – fired me from a crappy pub job a couple of years ago when I was going through a hellish career crisis and had no other means of income. Git. It was also completely unfounded, I think he was secretly jealous of the amount of people in the industry I know because he’s a fame whore. More of him another day, I’m sure.

THEN Nicole’s bastard Revolutionary came in! I, being the drunken fool that I am, completely failed to register that it was him, but through my ignorance I managed to dismiss him quite quickly and made him feel awkward until he shuffled away. Haha! That’ll teach you to fuck and chuck my friend, you berk! Later, I took a casual stroll into the VIP area (where said magical birthday was taking place) and I spotted him sitting alone at a table. Aw, bless. Essentially, this guy is a bit of a tool who just manages to get laid because he’s in a show. He is a prime example of the kind of man we are getting sweet revenge upon. He also is completely unmemorable, which is quite funny. I can’t even picture his face now… it’s a featureless sphere.

I’m seriously considering re-christening the chap balloon face. He has a balloon for a face. And wears a backpack with straps that clip together in the middle. That’s all I can tell you to help you avoid him, I’m afraid. If you meet someone and immediately forget them, you probably just met the Revolutionary.

Enough of this! I’m off to meet Nicole of Monday Margaritas and plot our next set of exploits. She – and I say this with love – needs to get laid. We’ll sort it, don’t fret! I know you guys are hankering for some smut.

Til next time,

RitziCx

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The Drama Continues

Posted on April 1, 2010 | Leave a comment

Nicole, my kindred spirit in skinny jeans, had a good read of my blog about her conundrum the other day, and thank you all for the comments re her plight! A couple of days later I received this message from her on facebook:

Nicole is getting some seriously hardcore comments!! The good luck ones are nice lol, but the one that’s made me FURIOUS is the ‘just go and find a single man’ one. AS IF IT’S THAT FUCKING EASY???!! I’ve been looking for 25 years!!!!!!!! Who are these women who can just go out and get a man???? Am starting to think there is something seriously wrong with me. Not kidding.

Cannot BELIEVE the Hobbitt is going around telling people and then not even texting you back. And Short Shorts??! Wtf?! I give up, I really do. Good blogs though. Excellent.
Love you so hard xxxxx

I do feel the need to raise issue with this statement mind you; ‘Am starting to think there is something seriously wrong with me. Not kidding.’

Nicole, my darling; (I say this with love) you are not the first person in the world to get shat on by a bloke, it happens every day and it isn’t because there’s something wrong with you – it’s because there’s something wrong with them… and one in particular – git.

(I would like to take the time to mention that I’m not including any lovely men who read this blog in the above statement! Unless said bloke is a cheating scum bag. You never can tell… *cough* Mark Owen *cough*.)

Let me ask you this though – you read stories about girls/women meeting the loves of their lives and living happily ever after and wish you could be them, but would you ever want to be the leading lady in this story? I know I wouldn’t.

As I know from my own experiences with falling in love with total pricks, there is no way of saying this differently. I know you have to learn it for yourself, so I’m thinking that texting the bastard is actually the way to go. I hope that when you see him again you see him for what he is, but you probably won’t.

Fecking men.

RitziCx

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What’s With All The Mixed Signals Menfolk?

Posted on March 30, 2010 | Leave a comment

Okay, so last night I was on my way home and while crossing the road at Charing Cross I ran into Short Shorts who was on the phone. He spotted me and waved me over with a big gorgeous smile, and in the middle of the road we said hello, quick showbiz cheek kiss, then realised we were… well… in the middle of the road. Crossing to our originally intended sides, I gave him a wave and said I’d text him later.

So I got on the train, sent a quick text saying he looked fab and we should catch up soon for that drink we never got round to having… and still I have received no reply.

Now – he could have just been being polite, but he waved me over to him and was very enthusiastic when he gushed ‘Hi babe! Wow, long time no see! You look great!’ (he’s not a gay, I promise) but this does not explain why the man would not reply to a very casual text message, especially considering how keen he has been to get down my pants in the past!

There are a few possible reasons:

1) he’s a man who works in theatre, and therefore a total moron

2) he’s got a new phone/number since the last time I saw him

3) his phone died after the show and he left his phone charger in his dressing room and hasn’t been in to charge it yet

4) he got to work and half the cast had fallen down stairs/lift shafts/off buildings and he had to play every male character and fell asleep exhausted in his dressing room

5) he doesn’t actually want to shag me I’m sorry that one’s completely ridiculous

6) a combination of the above

You see my dilema? Seriously, between us Nicole and I do attract the most irritating, mixed-signal sending, forget-to-text arseholes. I wouldn’t be so bothered if he wasn’t just so bloody attractive!

Darn it.

RitziCx

Ps, if I’m going to tick this box I need to do it soon - Maxie G already set her sights on his short shorts before she went to Vienna! If she gets back before I shag him t’will be a fight to the death… or an evening spent objectifying men over several bottles of wine. Whatever.

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Here’s A Conundrum

Posted on March 30, 2010 | Leave a comment

Soooooooo.

Yesterday over luncheon, Nicole and I got onto the subject of the evil bastard who repeatedly breaks her heart (we shan’t give him a quirky nickname because he does not deserve one) and she put forward an interesting theory.

In recent months she has been agonising over her situation with this bloke and desperate to see him again, even though (deep deep deep down) she knows he’s a total cock and won’t ever leave his wife and kids for her. It means she can’t get over him, she can’t move on, and most importantly, she can’t score any ensemble bingo points. At the moment, she’s thinking she should just throw caution to the wind, text him, and ask if he wants to meet up again. I suppose in some twisted way this is a fairly decent idea – if he says no, that’s that and she can wise up to fact and move on. However, if he says yes… well, that’s where it gets a bit complicated.

Maybe, if she shags him again and can detach herself emotionally she’ll be fine and able to move on… a farewell fuck, if you will.

I highly doubt it.

I can see what would happen… he’d fuck and chuck her again, go back to play happy families, and leave Nicole a broken mess. Quite frankly, I’d rather that didn’t happen.

So you see the conundrum… you might say just don’t text him Nicole but it ain’t so simple as that, oh no. If she doesn’t do something like this soon, her brain might explode. She’s not getting over him, should she get under him? Oh cripes, I get the feeling this is all going to end in tears…

RitziCx

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Scrummy Places To Eat In London : Ritzi and Nicole’s Adventures in Las Iguanas

Posted on March 23, 2010 | Leave a comment

Ahhhhh Las Iguanas, home of never ending streams of margaritas every Monday (or tuesday when we have stuff to do on Mondays) UNTIL NOW.

This lunchtime, I toddled over to Las Iguanas on Dean Street to meet my good friend Nicole (I may have mentioned her once or twice) and ordered our usual 2-4-1 margaritas, only to be told they aren’t on 2-4-1 any more!

End. Of. The. World.

Completely stunned, I realised I’d have to actually look at the menu, and spent the next ten minutes (Nicole was late. Tut.) staring blankly at the cocktail list in complete denial.

At the suggestion of the nice Las Iguanas people, we decided to go for a new Passionfruit Caipirinha, which looked pretty impressive but was very sweet and ever so slightly impractical because the passionfruit seeds kept getting sucked up into the straw! To be honest folks… I spilt half of it in my lap in my determination to use the goddamn straw. Not a good move. While it was quite nice, Nicole and I are in agreement that we could only handle one each, as opposed to the margaritas of which we can easily get through three each over lunch. I almost can’t believe I’m saying this but… there was genuine conversation about other places in Soho that might do food and 2-4-1 cocktails for next week.

Let’s not make any rash decisions though, right? (*cough* like taking margaritas off the 2-4-1 menu *cough*)

True to the spirit of sampling the new spring/summer menu I went for the Asparagus Salad, which was pretty darn fabulous. Packed full of new potatoes, feta cheese, asparagus and luuuuurvely fresh salad leaves, (I avoided the chillies, it’s for the best, trust me) it was so bloody healthy that Nicole and I thought it not too unreasonable to splash out on desert.

And OH MY GOD. Desert. Wow.

The lovely chap who serves us every Tuesday when we miss our usual Monday visit (I happen to be rather attached to Mondays due to the usual presence of ‘ShouldbeMexicanbutisn’t', the oddly attractive waiter who always surprises me with his London accent.) brought us the desert menu and we immediately went for the newest addition (although the new chocolate pot was a bit tempting as well) called a ‘Fruit Fajita’. What is a Fruit Fajita I hear you ask? Well, here ya go;

IMG00265-20100323-1423

Does it look like sex on a plate to you too? That’s what I thought. Amazing cinamon butter covered bananas, peaches and pineapple complete with DIY wrap kit of mini crepes, icecream, toffee-esque sauce and chocolate flakey bits, this was the messiest yet most AMAZING desert I have ever had.

To make it even better, it turns out that it is the creation of our favourite Tuesday waiter, who kept looking at us to make sure we were enjoying it. Bless him. I suppose I can forgive him for breaking the tragic news of the missing margaritas.

In short, that was without a doubt the best meal I’ve had in there, but at the end of the day I think we can all see what the moral of the story is.

Ahem. Las Iguanas? Put Margaritas back on the 2-4-1 deal pleeeeeeeeeease? Maybe just in Soho? Just for Ritzi and Nicole? We could get little Ritzi and Nicole badges so you know it’s us… just don’t tell the rest of the West End who we are, yeah?

In other news, Nicole has decided it’s a really good idea to go to a party where the man who has systematically ripped out her heart, chucked it on the floor and done a little dance on it on a regular basis over the last few years will be in attendance. Being the good friend that I am, I shall have to drag myself along to make sure she doesn’t do anything completely STUPID (are you hearing this girly?). And if I happen to pocket the phone numbers of any hot West Endy men also in attendance that’s just an added bonus, right?

Off to look up prices of flights to Vienna do some work.

Ciao

RitziCx

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Gosh I Forget A Lot Of Things After Drinking…

Posted on February 22, 2010 | Leave a comment

Just went for Lunch with Nicole who reminded me that about a million more things happened on Saturday night. Cripes, more free drinks than I thought!

The most important – and some would say unforgetable – thing we discussed, was the fact that Nicole IS currently lusting after someone! I shall name him Pink Shirt, because apparently he wore one once. She wanted me to call him Sex on a Stick, however I argued that one day I may meet someone I consider to be more worthy of the name, and since it’s called climbing Ritzi’s ladder… I guess I get veto on that. Awesome. I love the power.

So, essentially our main wondering at the moment is whether Pink Shirt likes to stick his winky in girls or boys. Admittedly, the pink shirt choice isn’t helping him much here, but Nicole argues that it could just be a demonstration of how comfortable with his sexuality he is. Discuss.

A moment of victory occured today when Pink Skirt Shirt arrived in the building. I believe the conversation when something like this;

N: Hi!

PS: Hello! How are you?

N: I’m fine, thank you.

PS: Good (followed by a smile and a sound effect – or it would be if we lived in a sitcom)

This prompted a fist pump of triumph and an excited giggle from Nicole over lunch. The plan now is for Nicole to confirm PS’s sexuality and successfully seduce him. Preferably in his dressing room because that would make a damn good post. (Nicole, I know you just squealed outloud reading that. Shush. We’re incognito damnit!)

I, on the other hand, still haven’t heard anything from Short Shorts which is really annoying considering that a few months ago (when I was blissfully ignorance of my relationship misery… remember that?) he was desperate to get down my pants. Now? Cue tumbleweed. Which makes me think I’ll text the Hobbit (not an actual hobbit). Yes… I think I shall. Hang on a sec.

Done.

Right, going to do some actual work now, but I shall be updating this post when the Hobbit texts back.

Much love!

RitziCx

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Apparently Cupcakes Are The New Coke

Posted on February 20, 2010 | Leave a comment

…Someone should tell a rather famous producer I know. Might save him some pennies.

So this week has been one of the most insane weeks of my LIFE. You know how I work in this crazy West End theatre world – well fabulous as I am there are still many many rungs on this bloody ladder of mine and the weather’s been so crappy recently that I’ve found it difficult to see even more than a few steps ahead. Hopefully, after last week, that will change soon :)

I’ve been everywhere! In the office, on location, at the Ivy, in theatres, in rehearsals, and even at the Empire Cinema watching a special preview of Tim Burton’s Alice In Wonderland! (More on that later this week) But I have found time to catch up with a few friends as well. Who needs sleep, right?

Tuesday I went to meet Nicole after work. The poor girl had been there since 5.30am, and we were supposed to meet at 6pm. And she didn’t get out until half past! She came out, babbling a bit due to slepdep, and although she was perfectly happy and not at all upset, she started crying too! Seriously, I’m not so sure the hours we work are legal but still we do it. Insane.

I scooped her under my wind and we rushed to Primrose Bakery for some sugar, stat! Half an hour later we were satisfyingly full of coffee and lemon cupcakes. Amazing.

Cupcakes are everywhere at the moment, aren’t they? I remember watching SATC a few years ago and lusting after the cupcakes they got from the Magnolia Bakery. I’ve since been to that bakery and I hasten to add that there was no way that a single one of those characters could ever conceivably have eaten anything there, or they’d never film those sex scenes. Once I had one… I couldn’t stop. I can never move to New York. Cupcakes and Cheesecake considered, I’d just be obese. Luckily (or unluckily) our cupcake culture has caught on, and instead of nipping for a quick drink after work we regularly meet for a sugar fix instead. I’m not sure what’s worse!

Then today, inkeeping with the NY theme, I met my friend Polkadots for lunch. And when I say lunch, I mean cheesecake.

She’s just moved back home after almost a year of living in sin. Her boyfriend, a sensible, teachery type, bought a house without telling her and moved her in, taking rent for the mortgage. This was fine, until one day his sister showed up. She was supposed to just be staying for a month or so, and half a year later she’s still there. Polkadots finally snapped when she discovered that the unwelcome sister was not even paying rent, so she moved out. There we were eating cheesecake, and I expected I’d need to comfort her a bit. I was wrong.

“I’ve been with him for two years and I swear he doesn’t actually know me at all,” she told me. “I mean, seriously, the other day he said ‘I don’t think I’d ever have even thought about going to the theatre if I’d never met you’ and I was like… ugh! I know he bought me flowers and everything for valentines day but they were roses and I hate roses. You know I hate roses, right?”

And I did. You see, Polkadots is a vintage clad, slightly feminist, bright haired stage manager, and such cliches like roses on valentines day are like cryptonite to her.

So I asked her why she was bothering, and she said she didn’t know. Then she said she didn’t think she should any more. Then we went off on a complete tangent about my new found ‘If he’s not the man of your dreams why are you wasting your time?’ philosophy.

It’s not that I think everyone should hold out for a knight in shining armour who looks like Colin Firth circa Mr Darcy and treats you like a goddess, but there has to be someone out there who just fits with you. I’m pretty sure my mum and dad, who are still ridiculously happy, are evidence enough that this can happen. And Maxie and her hubby, sex issues aside, just work. They just fit.

Nicole and I are off out for the evening, our minds well and truly set on the ensemble bingo board ;)

Will keep you posted.

RitziCx

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