Tuesday, 3 December 2013

The Reading List - High Fidelity

Welcome to a new feature - of which I'm still yet to clear with the board of directors, i.e  Becki - The Reading List (again, the title is still under construction).

Since becoming a daily London commuter, I've evolved into 3 things: 1. The person who has their music up so loudly that they can't hear themselves singing along to it. 2.  If the train doors open in front of me I feel invincible (and maybe like sometimes, never, all the time every time I punch the air. No biggie). And 3. A reader. No, not of minds, dear god, could you imagine, but of books.

I've read a shit load these last few months, and as I'm procrastinating at collage and I'm on a blogging role (count it, 2 in a week) let's start a reading thing (I would say club, but Becki is scared to commitment of any kind unless there is extreme amounts of glitter and tequila involved).


The first book is High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. Primarily I picked it up purely based upon my undying love of John Cusack (I know, leave it), who plays the main character, Rob, in the film adaptation. And because I have a bad/consistent habit of watching a film then reading the book, I did just that.

I liked it. It follows Rob through his 'Top 5 Break Ups of All Time' where he looks back on his failed relationships with women. Granted I think the writing is geared towards male readers, I found the humour and characters relatable, dislikeable and loveable, in a kind of way that you've adopted a group of friends.
Its a relatively quick read (4 commutes), bonus points for keeping my attention dispute the person next to me on the train blowing their nose every 17 seconds. Not bad at all for 70p charity shop find. 

Monday, 2 December 2013

Guess Who's Back

That's right I'm back, like The Terminator and Slim Shady (except my ability to drive and rap are less than adequate). Its been a while since I've written anything, I mean that in a general sense;  lately I've exclusively been perusing the Black Friday sales and crying under my duvet about the shit load of assignments I've got to do before Friday - of which I'm avoiding like the plague/making painfully slow progress with. 

Where some people may crave a drink up at the end of the week, or the need to document their every waking moment on instagram in an influx of uploads (not that I'm bitter), I feel like I need to order my thoughts sometimes out loud. It would probably benefit the world far more if I just brought a diary or drunkenly poured out my weekly issues to a stranger in the corner of the nearest Wetherspoon's. But because psychiatrists are far too expensive, I'm a cheapskate  and its cold outside, blogging will have to suffice.

Apologies world.

J xo

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Rolling in The Slob

Yet again I seem to have returned to fashion slobbery; the suit skirt, the shabby band top (from a concert that I deny attending) and Bruvs oldest hoodie: still with a bit of Fridays tequila on it (*cough* Josie *cough*). Take that all in. Admire my style superiority. 
Today was the most disasterous of style crescendos: my normally tedious suit was, for once, the hieght of sophistication (modesty is my middle name); black pencil skirt, double collared white shirt, jazzy jumper and the craziest of necklaces. For once I managed to hide my majorly dodgey fashion choices. HOORAH. 
However the decision on what I should change into really should have been confiscated. Why I chose this particular closet gremlin to be my Tuesday night top, I shall never know. Before you make any underestimated judgements, let me just warn you; it has dimantes. DI-FRIGGING-MANTES. 
The only excuse I have is; I'm not at fashion collage, unlike my dirtbag counterpart. 

Tuesday, 24 September 2013

Boretown On My Body

You'd think that as I'm schooling in a fashion collage that I would be setting free my strange clothing choices to truly reach their fruit loop potential. But, oh no, dear reader, this girl has been residing in bore-town for the last week and a half.

Black skinny jeans, muddy Docs (not even a wet-wipe could salvage the leather this morning), grey slouchy t-shirt, oversized winter coat. Could I be any more boring? Short answer: no. Long Answer: yes, with the addition of unwashed hair and yesterday's make up, I can add 'gives the illusion of homelessness' to my CV. The Joy.

With a day off tomorrow, maybe I'll actually plan out some outfits - because when everybody else looks impeccable (every. single. day.), fashion comes first and it's hard to look this god damn awful on a daily basis. 

It's time  for me to invest in some statement jewellery; diamonds, gold, chains...you know the kind that won't turn my neck green as soon as you wear it when you have damp hair, but instead screams 'Yes, ladies, this girl is accomplished, put together, clean and most importantly, at a fashion collage'. 

I don't ask for much when it comes to jewellery, but if it also wants to be under a tenner that'll be smashing.  

Sunday, 22 September 2013

Welcome To Party Town!


Welcome to A Diva And A Dirtbag, with your glamourous (and more often than not, unwashed) hosts, Josie and Becki. With this blog we intend to unleash our inner dirtbag and diva with our often questionable clothing choices, daily lives, and general mishaps.

So,without further ado, we'll begin with a short introduction of ourselves written by each other (we are rarely this nice). Here we go!

Becki currently resides in her own world of cynicism towards Josie in a muddle of Asos packages, Disney and A Level revision books - despite only being back at school for 2 weeks. Her skill set includes a large dose of alcoholism with a fine aim for tequila shooters, although she has never been known to refuse a cocktail either. However this trait is equally, and unforgettably matched with her inablilty to remain quiet, her hair that mirrors that of a lioness and her eclectic style (with a selection of granny-esque dresses and skirts, this girl simply can't go wrong). Of late, she's favoured a mom jean which quickly spiraled into an obsession along with rapping to her father and brother, both of which rarely approve.
Also her skin is so soft I'm sure it makes angles weep.  Alas, my face will forever be the consistency of pavement.

Josie is her name and dirtbag is her game. Her perception of herself is a streetwise urban kid who could quite easily be a member of Mr West's crew. However my view is slightly contrasting, normally she's dressed in some put together combo that annoyingly makes her look like she knows what she's doing. Her penchant for all black and the occasional tartan scarf give her a grungy appearance (totally what she wanted) and a moody edge. But don't be fooled by this well managed (sometimes) facade, she is completely mental and enjoys a good sing a long, usually after tequila, although it's not required. Currently studying retail in London, by oxford street no less, she is sure to go places, not sane ones but if she's there it is sure to be a glitter filled, roller coaster of fun.
I hate her really though.

So there we have it, just a quick post on who the hell we are, and what on earth we're up to on this here blog.
If you fancy dropping us a line (...of communication, not cocaine) on the twitters you totally can, @lifesateaparty and @reeeeeve.

See you again soon for the next installment of A Diva And A Dirtbag!