Monday, October 31, 2005

This post is in a continuous state of evolution...

I have stopped eating eggs.

This is because I hate the word. Not because I don't like the taste of them, just because I feel strange eating eggs in front of people because I just have a funny feeling about them. There's something strange about them. Apart from anything else, they're chicken's PERIODS. They are, you know, think about it. Actually that in itself is less horrible than the word itself. I don't know what it is, really.

In other news, I am quite looking forward to this gig now. I have decided upon an outfit. It goes like this:

Black basque from Ann Summers.
Black waistcoat from Oasis.
Black pencil skirt from Oasis.
Very high heeled sexy shoes (also black) (vintage)
Red lipstick, nails, etc.
Various bits of jewellery, probably.

Ta da! The effect is supposed to be forties glamour. The basque is my favourite item on the list.

I wrote a song. Well, some lyrics. On Wednesday I'm getting together with the guy who's piano-ing for me and he's going to help me finish it off. Thing is, though, I'm not sure that it isn't really, really shit. Oh well. Better to have something really shit than nothing at all, or than Plan B, which was to do a rap version of "I'm A Little Teapot" complete with actions and costume.

Also, you know my Dad? Yeah, you met him that time you came to tea and we all ended up getting really drunk? No, no, not the time with the strippers, the other time. Yes? Anyway, I think I mentioned that my Dad got a CBE this year. And he was given THREE extra tickets to go to the palace! Buckingham, not Crystal. Three! So. My Mum, my Grandmother. AND ONE MORE LUCKY CONTESTANT!!
Well, I have two sisters. Sophie: Youngest, impish, lives in Paris. Alex: Oldest, smallest, lives in Ealing (London). And then there's me: Me. Middle. Explains a lot.
My Dad created some elaborate lottery system to decide. No drawing bits of paper out of a hat for him, no sir.

UPDATE:
I accidentally posted that before I'd finished it. Sorry! (I'm not really sorry)

This lottery system was elaborate. Oh yes. It happened. And... GUESS WHAT?!

I didn't win.

Sophie won. Sophie is going to the palace. Alex and I will be locked in the basement with just some stale bread and water while Cinder-Sophie gets to go and meet the royals. Well, sort of, in that we are going to go to the posh meal afterwards but not the palace. I would have liked to go, but fair's fair, a lottery system was created and my father is a fair man, and Sophie will sneak in a secret camera and will take cardboard cut outs of me and Alex so it'll be like we're all there, and maybe if we ask nicely she'll ask the Queen some inappropriate questions so we'll have some stories to tell.

I might be going to Wales next week. The country, not the biggest of all the mammals. Though that would be cool.

If anyone wants to come to the gig on Thursday so you can see my basque, email me and I'll put you on the guest list. Either at leonie@leoniehiggins.com or leoniekate@hotmail.com.

In other other news: I am going to a pole-dancing lesson. And I have also applied to the London School of Striptease to do a beginners course. Just for fun. Why not?

Maybe I'll update again, as today I'm feeling whimsical.

UPDATE:
I told you.

I need your help. Especially if you're from London and know things. Paul, this is the sort of thing you'd be good at.

I'm doing a quiz thing where you have clues and you have to work out which London station it..er.. means. You know. Like, for example:

Pale coloured church = Whitechapel.

See?

They can be tube stations or overland ones. I stand to win Champagne, which I will not share but will gladly tell you all about. So here they are:

SUITABLE INGDREDIENT FOR A STEW
GRASS COLOURED TIMBER
DATED LANE (Old Street)
DUTCH LANDSCAPE
DISCARD BY EDGE OF SEA
PERFORMER PERCHED IN THE MIDDLE
REGAL TREE (Royal Oak)
SYMBOLIC WEIGHTY HEADGEAR
ANYONE FOR TENNIS (Oooh, tricky. Wimbledon)
LONDON HAS 33 OF THESE LOCAL BODIES (Borough?)
A DOG CRYING (Barking...? Except that's not crying, though, is it?)
FEMALE PRISON IS HERE (Holloway Road)
CURVED ROUTE OR DIRECTION
LENGTHY FINISH
ENTER LAIR ON ALL FOURS
YOU WILL NEED A TIN OPENER FOR THIS PLACE
HEAVY IRON
HOLY PLACE OF WORSHIP
THIS LONG LEGGED BIRD FITS ANY LOCK
TEA PARTY HOSTED AT A LORD'S PLACE
THIS ROYAL LASS WAS NEVER AMUSED (Victoria?)
WHIPPETS USUALLY SPEED BY HERE
A FACTORY SERVING DESSRET IS FOUND ON THIS STREET
MASSIVE BUILDING

This is the sort of thing I am rubbish at. Champagne, however, is the sort of thing I am very good at, so please help. Thanks.

17 Comments:

Blogger C said...

I don't think I can ever look at an egg in the same way, ever again.

Glad to hear you've got a song written, and can't believe you could be going to the palace. And a CBE! How? Can I have one?

Good luck with the lottery, I want to know the outcome and if you're going sneak a camera in there somehow, sell to 'the sun' and you could make yourself a cool ten g's. The headlines will be 'Sun insider sneaks metal device into palace with ease, then takes snaps'... actually I think they've done that one already.

Also, listen to that online jazz station if you get a chance, it’s not that bad.

10:43 am

 
Blogger Adrian said...

You had me at basque ...

10:58 am

 
Blogger Doug said...

Pole dancing lessons!? At least you have a thriving industry to fall back on. Anyway, good luck with the gig, the song and the idea that you almost made it to the palace.

1:41 pm

 
Blogger lady miss marquise said...

Oh how fantastic! The pole dancing I mean, not the fact about eggs. I've always wanted to try it, apparently it's great for your abdominals...

And I'd forgotten all about the eggs by the time I go to the outift, the basque sounds divine!

But now I'm thinking about the eggs. I think I may never be able to eat another egg... ever.

2:44 pm

 
Anonymous Paul said...

Hurrah for eating the by-products of avian menstruation! 'Would you like your chicken-period fried or scrambled?'. Marvellous.

For breakfast.

If you become a professional stripper, your stage name could be The Commander's Daughter. It's a good excuse to do a military uniform act, which I'm sure would go down very well. And I think you'd make The Commander very proud.

3:03 pm

 
Anonymous impish little sister said...

Oh my god,

All such a good idea (yes you are my god)

Ahhh, can't wait- i will definately be there on thursday night!! Can't wait!!!!

Love you millions and can't wait to see you!! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

ring me if you can! xxxx

3:07 pm

 
Anonymous impish little sister said...

also,

thinking of taking the queen a present (not telling mum and dad before of course) and attemtping to present it to her. Was thinking a small gold eiffel tower would be fitting.

What do you think?

3:08 pm

 
Anonymous Paul said...

Get a mini Arc de Triomph as well, and super-glue them to a fold-out map of Paris. That'll really impress her. Though don't show Prince Phil, as he's liable to make some random xenophobic comment.

3:47 pm

 
Anonymous Jenny said...

Where is my comment??? Okay, trying again. But will have lost the pithy off the cuff wit of first comment, sadly.

No eggs for at least a week. Wish I could come to gig. Sophie should guest blog about her palace adventures. Good luck with the champagne!

Damn, the first comment was much better. Blast!

4:31 pm

 
Blogger Dancinfairy said...

Can you ask your sister / mum / dad / grandmother to have a look for my cat (brown / black stripey, answers to the name of Tibitha Tigger Smith) whilst they are at the palace. Apparently a few years ago she went off to meet the queen and the ungrateful moggy never came back so....

5:24 pm

 
Blogger C said...

Just skimmed read the tube names and I’ve got one:

*GRASS COLOURED TIMBER - Wood Green - has to be.

Only one for now, if I get a chance I’ll help your champagne campaign further... that’s not a bad rhyme, maybe you could add it in your lyrics and get back to me with the audiences reaction to that little gem!

8:24 pm

 
Blogger monkey typist said...

not completely sure,and not in order, but...

CURVED ROUTE OR DIRECTION= archway?

YOU WILL NEED A TIN OPENER FOR THIS PLACE= canning town?

HOLY PLACE OF WORSHIP=temple?

WHIPPETS USUALLY SPEED BY HERE= walthemstow..?

LENGTHY FINISH=mile end?

DISCARD BY EDGE OF SEA=shoreditch
A FACTORY SERVING DESSRET IS FOUND ON THIS STREET=pudding mill lane

SUITABLE INGDREDIENT FOR A STEW= east/west ham, or stockwell..?

MASSIVE BUILDING=mansion house..?

THIS LONG LEGGED BIRD FITS ANY LOCK=heron quays

thats all ive got so far

9:49 pm

 
Blogger Bug said...

Ok, Monkey is MUCH smarter than me, I only got Mile End

Mind you I've never been to London so she has a SLIGHT advantage

I didn't like eggs to begin with, but there's a distinct possibility they'll make me throw up now!

3:12 am

 
Blogger anna said...

Can I just say - and not in a boasty way - at all, actually - I went to a garden party at the palace once, when my mum had to go for some reason. It was rubbish.

You had to queue up for ages to recieve a very very little cucumber sandwich, while a bunch of people queue up for a chance of being walked past by the queen.

She doesn't even mingle!

10:03 am

 
Blogger Swedish Girl said...

Hello Léonie! (Whey, you have a cute accent in your name...)

I've been reading your blog for a while and I really like it.

It turns out I'm not very good at the Tube Game. I only got one:

Dutch Landscape = Holland Park.

Good luck with the sparkly!

12:04 pm

 
Blogger monkey typist said...

it is true though, about the eggs, and someone told me that sometimes when you get a little squiggley bit in the egg white...thats like, what would have become the potiential chick. ugh...im squeamish about eggs (because of that) and incase theyre off. im the same with milk.

good luck for tomorrow, it all sounds fab

2:24 pm

 
OpenID strictlyforpleasure said...

Your blog cracks me up. I love it. I've got it bookmarked and keep skipping through your archives whenever I need a laugh. I put a link up on my own blog - hope you don't mind.

I totally get the egg thing. They kind of gross me out. I watched a comedy routine when I was 12 or something where someone said they were liquid chickens. That put me off them for about 10 years. I got over it though during an ill-advised Atkins stint a few years ago, but I still can't do the hard boiled thing. Then they're semi-gelatinous chickens. Even worse.

4:14 pm

 

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