The Catcall Chronicles

Writing

**Disclaimer  – no man, woman or dog was hurt in the making of these chronicles, this is aimed to be lighthearted and is not intending to stick the knife in further to the topics of rejection or gender roles in relationships in any way. If you are of a sensitive nature then I suggest you turn away now. And never read my blog again.

 

If you’re still reading this then I appreciate that you have identified yourself on the side of (in)sanity. And with this, let’s begin:

 

 

We are all served our fair share of unannounced and unwelcomed wacko encounters, right? Whether you are in the shops getting bread, or bending down to tie your shoelace, sooner or later you’ll find the local clown leeching onto your waist all whilst  whispering sweet nothings into your ear canal.

 

If this is a rare occurrence for you, then let me tell you I am jealous, for my daily interactions with particular members of the general public would make  even the most paranoid and parodied narratives of life look lack-lustre, let me tell you. 

 

This time, let me introduce you to just one of my many types of unsavory encounters – ‘The Cat Calls’

 

Can I just start by saying –  don’t tell me to be flattered by the offensive and obtrusive interjection of a sweaty handshake or gummy grin from a bozo pursuitor. There’s utterly nothing about banal meet and greets that get me all ‘hot and bothered’ I can assure you of that. 

 

 

So with that being said, let’s say hello to the men of my monotonous walks home from work:

 

Mr. Comedy Club – This guy made my dad look like a schoolboy, let’s just say that I never 

knew geriatrics had such taste for juveniles. 

 

Mr. Russia –  ‘We will meet this weekend. You will shag me  for dessert. Simple.’

 

Mr. Burrito – A burrito in exchange for a list of STD’s a prostitute would be proud of sounds like a fair deal, right?

 

The Copiously Copulating Co-workers – Let me serve this food real quick, and then I’ll be right back to grope you, cool?

 

Mr. Stalker – ‘It doesn’t matter if you have a boyfriend, just send me some nudes’ the stranger expels in exasperation after unnanouncingly  chasing me down the street like the predator he was. 

 

You will have plenty of time to get acquainted with each of my Mr. Wrongs, but first it’s time for Mr. Comedy Club to step up to the mic:

 

Mr Comedy Club

 

This guy made my dad look like a schoolboy, let’s just say that I never 

knew geriatrics had such good taste in juveniles and such bad taste in jokes.

 

 I don’t know what was more jarring, the outreach of sweaty hand that looked like it had spent a lifetime on his genitals doing allsorts. Or the lick of his sweaty lip as if he was about to take a chomp out of mine. Both actions, as equally unsettling as he approached me on that busy evening on the Strand, London. 

 

At first I thought he was asking for directions, and naively, 23 year old me failed to abide by the ‘stranger danger code’. Instead I  proceeded to indulge in shaking his nut-scratching hand that little too long, as he interjected my evening jaunt back to my cesspit for a night of netflix and not much else. 

 

“Hi, I’m Paul…nice to meet you, and you are….?

 

To which I obliged and answered startlingly, giving him every detail under the sun.  My full legal title, the 4-digit pin to my debit card, even the code to the safe. But before I could tell him where I was hiding the dead body he rudely interrupted to chuckle goofily and ask me if I ‘lived around here’? 

 

Fuck sake, if I lived around here, doing the maths, I would need to be doing the ‘spread eagle’ for atleast 40 sugardaddies on a daily basis. This was ‘the Strand’, not ‘Old Kent Road’. He really was as dumb as he looked, I thought internally, as I prised a wry grin from my pursed lips. 

“No, no, not far though”, I seethed through gritted teeth, in desperation that this babbling baboon who was bamboozling me would get the memo and leave me the f*ck alone. 

 

I may have given him the code to the safe, but he wasn’t getting the address to the house. Serial killers lurk amongst us, afterall. 

An awkward pause followed my icy blunt response.  Time had legitimately stopped, his beady perverted eyes twinkled as he keenly waited for me to finish my cold reply with an address of where he ultimately thought he could make love to me from dusk till dawn before hiding my wispy body in a ‘hand-luggage sized suitcase’. 

 

A ground-trembling ‘beep’ of a road-raged taxi driver’s horn from the nearby road hastily brought me and Mr Comedy club’s little love affair tumbling back to reality. No sooner had I tried to step away inconspicuously from this car-crash of a conversation  than was this geriatric proceeding  to ask me if I had any ‘hobbies in the vicinity’. The choice of wording made it feel more like an interrogation than a flirtatious fondling of phrases. 

 

I almost threw up in my mouth, but managed to keep it down as the words ‘I like comedy clubs’ spewed out in substitution. A mistake which still haunts me to this day, 2 whole years, 10 months, 28 weeks, 10 days, 23 hours, 3 seconds and 1 millisecond later (now 2 milliseconds). 

 

With the uttering of these four words from my mouth, came a stark change in this man’s behaviour, like a shark smelling blood he latched on with no mercy. In a flustered frenzy he forced up every sound somewhat synonymous to that of ‘comedy club’, and how he ‘coincidentally’ loves every single one that  I go to here in London. Go figure!

 

As he went off on his spiel about all things unfunny, I had somewhat of an outer body experience. I pictured myself flying to the moon and back on the tusk of a baby narwhal, I pondered over whether to have fajitas or fishcakes for tea. I calculated exactly how many minutes of my life I had so far lost to his gibberish gabbling before ultimately, momentarily ofcourse, expelling my soul from my body via passing-wind (everyone’s favourite method). And indulging in a quick soul-flying whizz around The National Portrait Gallery. Before checking back in with my poor self who was now standing motionless as Mr Comedy Club was passing his phone towards me for my number, a surefire way to sign my soul away to a life of pure misery and doom as his 3rd wife-to-be. Thank God I zoomed round the gallery at lightning speed, for as I came back to life I swatted his phone away like the dirty bottle-green fly it truly was. But let’s be clear, this is no fly around shite, this is a perverted paedophile droning on and on in my face about wanting to take me out to a comedy club and then have some real fun afterwards. 

 

One was not amused at this proposal. And finally, as a true woman, who can multi-task, I coupled the batting of his phone with a ‘no’ head shake any nodding Bulldog on a dashboard of a Mini-Cooper sport passing over speed ramps would be proud of. 

 

My pupils now dilated in rage, nostrils flared from smelling his bullshit for one minute too long. He got the memo. His nut-scratching hand proceeded to place his mucky mobile phone back into his very shallow back pocket as his tail tucked coincidingly inbetween his legs.

 

 I had just rejected him. 

 

And in the process gained a new lesson for myself.

 

Don’t talk to strangers. 

 

Numbness now awkwardly introduced itself, filling the void of silence that now enveloped both him and I. My irritation dissipated from my body like waves drifting out to shore, only to be replaced with an overwhelming feeling of guilt.  

 

As he beckoned away from me guising a facial expression signalling simply regret with an edge of sadness, I too had felt sorry for my actions. 

 

Nobody had the last laugh here.

 

**Next time I get sent some love from Russia. 

City life

Writing

Like mice,

Trapped in the rat race.

A maze made for manipulation.

Man against man, race against race. 

 

A breath.

Of fresh air at dawn.

As futile as asking the sun to,

Rise at dusk and set in the morn.

 

Private,

A word less chosen.

Only by those of land un-citied.

Cities keep the term unspoken.

I Hate Public Transport With A Passion

Writing

If you’ve happened to be following my journey on the misery train so far, you’ll know that my belief firmly holds – trying to live in London for two weeks on £30 will make climbing Mt. Everest look like a walk in the park in comparison.

 

My hands are already physically shaking as I type due to my inner yearning for anything sucrose, glucose or dextrose based before I become comatosed by the end of this post.

 

So before I’m induced into a diabetic coma, I just thought I’d update you on day 3 as I don’t know if they’ll still let me write from my prison cell once I’m taken in for stealing a loaf of wholemeal from my local Saino’s. Either that or I’ll be lying under a park bench looking like the voldemort baby I presented to you in the other post. So with that being said, I better pull my fingerS out and start typing just that little bit faster.

 

Ayway, where was I? Oh, yes, I was about to break into a song and dance about how much I deteste everything and anything to do with public transport. Speciifally the red buses here in London, as I’m too poor to use the tube I’m forced to sit reluctantly on the slow-coach bus. With the simple learning lesson being ‘money really can buy you happiness’. If the last 3 days have shown me anything, it’s shown me that my level of hatred is a bottomless pit. Yes, just when I thought I couldn’t despise something anymore, I come to the stark realisation that my hatred has a basement.

 

Let me tell you for why:

 

 

1) Buses are magnets for the people you cross the street (3 times) to avoid

 

Just when I thought the tube had the biggest share of the wannabee murders, rapists and tax evaders, the red buses of the city of London quash this idea in a heartbeat. Honestly I  would quite willingly hang off of the roof of the double decker by my hair than sit next to another person simultaneously, grinding their teeth and frothing at the mouth from their morning dose of listerine all while indulging in a sing-along of the old favourite ‘Kumbayah My Lord’ whilst rocking back and forth hugging their knees to their chest. (And there’s me thinking men can’t multitask).

 

2) The Loudly Obnoxious & The Obnoxiously Loud Phone Callers

I don’t care what you’re having for tea, that your boyfriend dumped you for your sister, that your gerbil croaked it (ok maybe this one). I don’t care, and neither does any of the other psycho passengers on  the bus. So why then do you feel the need to tell us all about your boring life at the top of your wheezy lungs? And while you’re doing that at the front of the bus we have your second cousin in the back trying to shout above your shouting on the phone, yelling to us all ‘thank Jesus that I’m a good person, no one else matters only me’. Seriously the amount of people I hear gloating and boasting about their delusioned sense of self is truly sickening. I thought this country had a problem with depression not self obsession?! Perhaps the 2 really are linked. I don’t care if you think you’re God’s gift, you certainly aren’t mine so clear off!

 

3) Petty Thieves

Why should I work my ass off all day in a 9 to 5 for some thug to hop on the bus without swiping his oyster, contactless or donating a kidney at the very least? Point being, time and time again I see these thieves jumping on the bus not paying, instead heading straight up to the top deck and not being stopped or questioned by the bus driver once? Seriously why should I pay for them to have a seat on the bus? They aren’t paying my rent, bills or travel, so why should I cough up on theirs? If I still have the moral decency to pay when I have literally nothing left at this stage, why can they not pay the fare when they are almost certainly not in as dire a place as I at this moment in time?

 

Ok,  I need to stop now, I’m getting heart palpitations. Let the story continue another night.

Have You Ever Been Afraid To Give Something Like This A Try?

Podcasts, Writing

Having embarked on my audio journey last winter in the form of a 10 week course with Reprezent radio, a youth-led community radio station here in London, as a result, I developed a bit of a love affair with making radio shows. Whether it was good audio content is questionable but nevertheless I enjoyed making it and surely that counts for something, right?!

 

On completion of this course I had two options, be a radio presenter’s assistant on a voluntary basis or make my own content. Eventually after a lot of inner self-doubt I’ve mustered up the courage to start making my own radio content. 

 

Since deciding to make my own content I’ve had many ups and downs, one of which is finding a genuinely good studio to record the radio shows in. Trust me, I’ve been around! The majority were too echoey, some allowed more sound in than welcomed, for example in one place I literally have the sound recordings of the maintenance guy burping in the background. I keep this version of my rudimentary show in a saved folder ofcourse to laugh at it on days when I feel like shit. After much trial and error, and finding no luck in cheap studios (I don’t have the budget for £50 an hour studios), I finally arrived at the stage where I was sitting on a bean bag in my cupboard insulated with pillows trying to crack jokes over and over again down the mic. Nothing is more awkward, trust me! And through this little makeshift haven I managed to thread together a pilot. I then, after much deliberation, sent it off to a local station in Shoreditch. I pretty much expected no reply, but to my surprise they actually decided to take me on and give me my own radio show ! I kept thinking to myself, they must’ve heard the wrong thing, not my show haha – if you wanna check out the pilot just click the link at the bottom of this post. 

 

Now I’m currently in the process of making my second show. I went to their recording studios yesterday and to record it in the moment. Let’s say I’ve got a long way to go but atleast I’m trying after half a year of stalling. I feel good about that, even though I’m now cringing at every badly pronounced word that comes out of my mouth on the recording ahahaa. 

 

Have you ever been afraid to give something like this a try? 

If you’re interested in checking out my first show, just click here

Would You Rather…?

Writing

The internet never fails to entertain me, here are just some of my favourite ‘would you rather’ questions that it has to offer, put your thinking cap on:

 

  1. Would You Rather Be Able To Detect Any Lie You Hear Or Get Away With Any Lie You Tell?

 

  1. Would You Rather Create History Or Delete It?

 

  1. Would you rather only be able to whisper or only be able to shout?

 

  1. Would you rather be able to freeze time or travel in time?

 

  1. Would you rather have your dream job or find your true love?

 

  1. Would you rather only be able to speak in rhyme or only be able to speak using alliteration?

 

  1. Would you rather forget who you are every time it rains, or never be able to remember why you walked into a room?

 

  1. Would you rather marry someone that you don’t love or marry someone that doesn’t love you?

 

  1. Would you rather look young and feel old or look old and feel young?

 

  1. Would you rather never be able to open a closed door or never be able to close an open door?

Summer Fashion

fashion, Writing

I’m not sure if you’d agree but it seems that we all dress better when the sun is out. Be it through using pops of colour to more extravagant patterns, in my view the sun does more than simply brighten up mood, it brightens up our wardrobes.

Below are some looks I resort to in Summer, items are from:

 

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The Most Anticipated Movies Of 2019

Writing

We’ve already had Aladdin, X-Men and Rocketman set the bar high for this years siverscreen scenes, but wait, the year is by no means over, just check out the movie heavyweights to come:

 

Joker  (October 2019)

I just caught a glimpse of the upcoming Joker movie and it definitely gave me something to smile about. Noone could replace Heath Ledger, yet I’m pretty sure Joaquin Phoenix will give us his own equally engaging take on this superhero supervillain.

 

The Lion King (July 2019)

Truly nostalgic, I personally can’t wait to experience this one on the big screen. Something tells me I won’t be critiquing the CGI too harshly, although the cartoon original version will always hold a special place in my heart. WIth an allstar line-up including Beyonce, Donald Glover and Seth Rogan, you’ll be playing the game of guess the voice actor instead of admiring how cute baby Simba looks in the opening scenes!

 

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (August 2019)

Margot Robbie, Leonardo Dicaprio, Brad Pitt……Is this a move or model casting? Whether the film is good or not is secondary, all I want to do is stare at their perfectly formed faces. I know Tarantino is a bit of a marmite director,  I personally find him rather interesting and I’m a fan of his work so really looking forward to seeing his latest piece.

 

Frozen 2 (November 2019)

We just can’t seem to let go of this winter wonderland fantasy by Disney. I wonder how many more infectious songs will come from this sequel?

 

The Irishman (month tbc, year 2019)

Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci. Did someone say mob ties? Directed by Scorsese. Did someone say Oscar? Rumoured to have cost $125million and containing 300 scenes, this epic gangster film will definitely be a highlight in Netflix’s catalogue this year.

 

 

ASMR – The Weird Addiction

Writing

ASMR – ‘Autonomous sensory meridian response’

Or In other words:

The triggering of a tingling-like sensation spreading from the scalp down the spine as a result of visual or auditory stimuli.

Or in other words:

A brain gasm!

Over the passed couple of weeks I find myself watching and listening to more and more asmr videos. Either I’m somehow subconsciously super stressed or else I need to find a boyfriend. I don’t know, there’s just something so addictive about them! Who doesn’t want to be entranced into a semi-sedated state by the breathy vocals of ‘gentle whispering ASMR’ or ‘ASMR Ting Ting’?

But, to be honest, maybe I shouldn’t be so honest! Much to my own dismay I’ve even started listening to it at work! Dozing off instead of doing my spreadsheets is guaranteed to get me fired, I’ve no doubt! What should I do? Why do I enjoy it so much? Why do we all enjoy it so much? Or are you one of these people who doesn’t react to the asmr triggers, like one of those people who gets poked in the eye yet still stares straight ahead, or the type that doesn’t reciprocate a yawn. If this is you, you may also be a psychopath. Don’t believe me? Then read this.

Anyway enough about your psychopathic tendencies and back to my quarter-life crisis – how the f*ck do I lessen the amount of time I’m devoting to YouTube videos of people chewing squishy foods, tapping their fingernails and whispering softly?(Basically all of the steps I attempt in my endeavours to pull a hot guy at the bar.)

You may be thinking to yourself, where’s the harm? There’s worse things I could be doing, like racing baby snails against their will or forcing myself to run 10km on the gym’s treadmill. I wish I could agree with you, but there is indeed harm being caused by this pleasurable pastime (this sounds gross). I shouldn’t be yearning for spine tingles at 12.30pm on a Wednesday afternoon while making a pie chart and eating slightly salted walnuts. Maybe at midnight when I’m trying to drift off but not midday, surely?!

Addiction is a terrible thing, I need to think of ways to get out of this rabbit hole. Maybe I’ll start watching videos of how to stop watching asmr, only to find myself becoming addicted to them.

Pray for me!

Quantity Over Quality

Writing

I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I’d somehow dropped off the face of the Earth in the last month or so. Eating copious amounts of junk food while watching documentaries on how paintbrushes and heavy-duty bin bags are made has that effect on you. You just drift away from life’s priorities like a plank of wood cast out to sea.

 

Oddly enough, I admittedly don’t know why I paused momentarily with the blog. It’s not like I  fell out of love with writing but moreso perhaps I fell out of love with the way I was writing.  

 

Quality took second place to quantity, I didn’t write what I wanted to write, yet more of what I thought you wanted to see. Which in the end wasn’t as fulfilling as I had intended it to be.Surely every blogger/writer/content creator goes through a stage like this, no?

 

Anyway, with my sanity returning slowly but surely, I endeavour to get back on track. Writing content for you to enjoy and for me to cringe at later in time (like this post)!

Happy reading!

Poem: Winter

Writing

Crimson embers of fire crackle,

Beneath the pale moon light.

The stars they twinkle like tiny freckles,

Upon the face of the night.

 

The sun awakens, from its slumbers,

Naked vegetation shivers with delight.

For they are scarce, they’re few in number,

Desperate for the light.

 

The season sets a spell of slumber,

Upon the many lives,

Of plants and animals growing fonder,

To sleeping day and night.

 

This too shall pass,

It just takes might,

Time will change,

The clock will strike.

 

A day will come,

Where we can surrender the fight,

Of surviving these testing hardships,

But until then. Goodnight.

 

 

My 5 Top YouTube Channels Currently

Writing

YouTube is a beacon of knowledge, a fountain of entertainment, a hub for all things random and most of all my favourite bookmark on Google, right next to ‘how to convince your parents to get a dog’ and ‘ how to unplug a hairy drain shower’. So why is it that YouTube gets such pride of place on my browser homepage? Well, perhaps it’s got something to do with these 5 channels below:

  1. James Charles – Welcome Sisters! Gosh, I wish we were siblings for he is so entertaining and talented. I love how well he mixes his sense of humour in his witty comeback to trolls in this video. But I think even beyond the entertainment, James is a pioneer in not only the beauty industry but in society culture. Unashamed to be exactly who he is, finding his own lane and having fun while doing it makes him an inspirational to us all to be ourselves.
  2. Jack Francis – His wicked sense of humour and general confident persona makes him a YouTube influencer right off the bat. But what’s truly influential is Jack’s attitude towards his Tourette syndrome. Being honest and open sets an example the audience that you shouldn’t let anyone or anything stop you.
  3. NikkieTutorials – She is the makeup artist of makeup artists, I’ve never seen anyone conceal and bake so well in my life! Her engaging and down to Earth personality coupled with her effortless application of makeup in each video makes her a shining example of how real talent and hard work pays off. She is honest in her reviews about products, not afraid to tell you if she thinks a product is sh*t, and I respect her for that! If you want to get better at makeup or just enjoy her beautiful wizardry subscribe to her page!
  4. Liza Koshy – Describing her as animated would be an understatement. Let’s just say if we were playing charades I would definitely want to be in her team. For any of you budding comedians out there she is definitely one to watch, A double threat with her witty comebacks and over the top facial expressions, she’ll have you in stitches in minutes. Take note!
  5. Vice – Ok, this is a bit of a cop out answer, but I feel like VICE is a good go to if you’re from a range of creative backgrounds in need of a little inspiration. Like, take the following video for example. If you want to be the next Armani, this is your answer, no?!

These are my top 5 channels to help any young creative. Sorry I’m a bit bias, I see the general theme in the above but hopefully some of it helps? SORRY!!

**Please note this article is intended solely for ERIC Mag, and I will link to the article on their site if/when it becomes live.