Sazzle Says

Remember?

My god, it’s been 3 months since I wrote a blog post. Please forgive me. I know you will when you realise what I’ve actually been doing. Teaching dogs knit jumpers for other homeless dogs. 

Not really (I wish!), but in the spirit of remembering…….(eg Rememeber Sazzlesays? That was a good blog, but she never updated it and people lost interest and went to look at other blogs and then she died), I thought I should implore you all to remember some things which may have been forgotten through unfortunate circumstances, or neglect or people just realising they were actually shit (like this blog). 

Remember Hyper Colour T-Shirts?

You could make it seem like a guy had touched your boobs by simply touching them yourself for ages with sweaty palms. 

Remember French Manicures for your toes? 

Let’s not 

Remember China White? 

Me neither

Remember boot cut jeans? 

Scotland doesn’t have to. They’re very much in the present for most of the male population. 

Remember Zig-Zag partings? 

These went hand-in-hand with the Rachel from friends stripy layer-fest. Word is, it’s coming back. 

Remember belly button rings? 

I got mine when I was 16 and managed to hide it from my mum for all of 6 minutes (on account of getting home and calling everyone I knew to tell them). 

Remember cupcakes? 

No, wait. They’re still popular. That pic is making me quite hungry to be fair

Remember Sega Master System II? 

I played that muthafucka all day on Christmas 1996

Remember Matt Cardle? 

???? I remember his hat

Remember MS DOS? 

lol

Remember wet look leggings? 

Shiny, sheer, unflattering and downright silly  

Remember Samantha Mumba? 

I think I used to like that song?

Remember CD’s? 

Apparently nobody buys bloody CD’s anymore! And for that matter - remember discmans!? 

Remember Jack Johnson? 

Reminds me of sleeping and being bored

Remember when Tom Cruise and John Travolta were straight?

Nope

What do you remember?

Saz x

Adventures in Working From Home

As some of you may know, I recently packed in my job (jobs are for losers anyway), to pursue a career in writing (I know, you all thought I was going to be a stuntman….well you’re wrong!)  

If you’ve ever worked from home, then you’ll know it’s not all champagne and valium. Here’s how it goes……

7.00:  Boyfriend wakes up. I tell him to be quiet - I’m still sleeping. ‘SSShhh!!!!”

7.15:  Sleep a bit more 

8.30:  Get up 

8.45:  Wonder why I forgot to buy any cereal or milk

9.00:  Consider going out to get some food

9.15:  Eat some chocolate 

9.20:  Eat some cheese 

9.30:  Have a shower and get out of PJ’s 

10.00: Sit down in front of computer and wait for inspiration to arrive………..

10.30: Inspiration arrives!!! No wait………….That’s a shit idea

11.00: New inspiration! Good inspiration. Type furiously…………………..

12.00: Eat some more cheese. Drop cheese on floor

12.05: Talk to the rabbit. He’s not happy with his new hay. I tell him to get a job

12.15: Sit back down at computer and wait for more inspiration………….

12.30: Pick up cheese dropped earlier and eat 

12.35: Waiting for a welcome distraction……consider:

               a) Emptying the dishwasher

               b) Filing all my bank statements in date order 

               c) Look on Battersea Dogs website and pine after a dog 

12.45:  Inspiration arrives….type furiously……………….

14.00:  Leave the house to get some food

15.30:  Get home. Switch on the TV. Antiques shows on all channels. Switch off TV

16.00:  Sit in front of computer. Get distracted on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter

16.30:  Stop fannying around and type some more…………….

18.00:  Pop a bottle of wine and stick a straw in

Have you ever worked from home? 

What strange things to do you get up to?

Please send help

Love Saz xxxx

I’m 30! Here’s 30 things I’ve Learned so far

1. If you can’t tone it, tan it. This advice was given to me by a gay man in Mykonos in 2005. It rings true today as much as it did then
2. DON’T under any circumstances get a credit card: Believe me, it’s a slippery slope that ends with you selling all your belongings at a car-boot sale and down-sizing to a cardboard box
3. Clear bra straps aren’t fooling anyone
4. I want a dog, I want, a dog, I want a dog, I want a dog
5. Learning a language is hard but it’s good exercise for the mind. Do it. 
6. Learning an instrument is harder. Don’t bother (maybe the Ukelele) 
7. Ricky Martin is Gay 
8. G-strings are ridiculous and pointless - long live the full brief!  
9. Being a rude arsehole doesn’t get you anywhere
10. Ginger is the secret ingredient that makes everything taste awesome 
11. Alcohol is the best medicine, followed closely by laughter
12. A play-suit WILL give you a camel toe 
13. Nice guys finish first 
14. You can wear red lipstick. Try it
15. Getting a tattoo when you’re 16 is a bad idea. You’ll end up with a pink love heart covered in star-dust on your arse. 
16. Magic mushrooms could cause you to believe a hat-stand is a person staring at you
17. Camera’s are bought to be lost, stolen, broken
18. White wine is the drink of the devil
19. Shirley Maclaine is Warren Beatty’s sister - I never knew that! Also, point 16(a), Shirley Maclaine is a god damn legend!
20. Having short hair as a woman MAY cause some people to mistake you for a man or call you ‘sir’ every now and then, BUT you can regain around 6 years of your life previously spent washing and blow-drying. 
21. Drop-crotch harem style pants don’t suit anyone. No one. 
22. Gardening is fun and cool (not just for old folks)
23. Drinking tequila and being flipped upside down in a gay bar = vom-fest 
24. Smiling can stop your gag reflex (I use this in the context of booze obviously)
25. Making things is better than selling things
26. Pants means underwear in the UK
27. Double Denim AKA The Texas Tuxedo was a mistake, but it will come back
28. My nails will never grow
29. Every accent I try to do becomes Eastern European
30. Writing a list is the easiest way to create a blog post when you’re in a hurry

What have you learnt!?

Is 30 better than 20?

I’m hungry

Love Saz xx

White Girls Can’t Jump - But They Can Rap

My friend Steph invited me to a Hip Hop Karaoke night last Thursday. I’m not sure what I expected. I hadn’t really put too much thought into it. I’ve spent many an evening assaulting a microphone and the people around me at Lucky Voice. I figured this would be something similar; Full of middle-aged, middle-class people singing badly and wearing itchy wigs. Well it wasn’t. This was serious. This was 8 Mile. 

To set the scene, Steph works for an investment bank and was wearing a pretty teal green Zara dress and a pair of leopard-print heels. Hip Hop? Not Not. I love hip hop. I actually thought I was Foxy Brown in 1996, but that doesn’t mean that I’d feel comfortable as a white woman with little to no vocal ability, getting up in front of a room full of seasoned professionals and busting out some Tupac or B.I.G. I feared this was about to be social suicide of epic proportions.

The room really started to fill up until it was seriously heaving. The dancing was already getting slightly competitive and space on the dancefloor was being fiercely guarded with elbows. The night was hosted by Bobby Champagne Junior, a small white dude with a foul mouth. ‘WHO THE FUCK IS UP FOR MUTHAFUCKING HIP HOP KARAOKE?????!!!! SIGN THE FUCK UP NOW! WE ARE STARTING IN 10 MUTHA FUCKIN MINUTES!!!!!’, he shouted down the mic. Golly this was getting serious. Despite 5 double vodka’s, I was feeling panicky and my buttocks were clenching somewhat.

The night kicked off with three young ladies who got up and performed Salt n’ Peppa’s classic ‘PUSH IT!’. TUNE ALERT! The crowd went wild. The girls jumped around the stage like maniacs. Next up was a demure looking white girl called Katie who made her way up to the stage. Already feeling scared for Katie, I took another massive gulp of my vodka. The music started - it was Eve and Gwen Stefani ‘Let Me Blow Your Mind’. Another legendary tune, but could she rap? The answer was YES! Katie was frickin amazing. She knew every word and got the crowd pumping!

Time ticked on and my fear for Steph lingered. Then her moment came. Sensibly. she used her stage name ‘Bev Brown’ for a touch of glamour. She tottered up to the stage and took the mic. Bobby Champagne Junior looked slightly bemused by her song choice.  The music kicked off and the crowd went wild. Steph was about to rap Snoop Dog’s ‘It Ain’t No Fun’ and I was shitting myself. She however was fearless and she was spitting out those words like she’d been doing it all her life. As a reminder, here is an excerpt of the lyrics from the first verse of that song:

When I met you last night baby

Before you opened up your gap

I had respect for ya lady

But now I take it all back

Cause you gave me all your pussy

And ya even licked my balls

Leave your number on the cabinet

And I promise baby, I’ll give ya a call

As you can imagine, it was quite a sight. The crowd loved it. When she finally finished Bobby Champage Junior called for an unheard of 11 whole second of sustained applause for Steph. LEGEND!

Is Steph Mad?

Are you up for coming next time?!

What shall we sing?!

Love

Saz xx

Hip Hop Karaoke is on every Thursday at The Social on Little Portland Street

Film Review: ‘Goodbye, First Love’ (Un Amour de Jeunesse)

I popped down the Cinema to see this film last Sunday. It’s fair to say that on a Sunday you are often feeling a touch fragile and the thought of snuggling down into a nicely upholstered seat in the dark and enjoying a lovely little ditty of a film seems like a good idea. When I saw the poster for this French film - ‘Un Amour de Juenesse’ (Goodbye First Love), I thought - ah lovely. Some French adolescents frolicking around, eating cheese and smoking a lot. Bon Bon. 

After seeing this film I was convinced that the Director had some weird infatuation with the lead - Lola Créton. I lost count of the number of boob shots, an opening scene with full frontal nudity (when she is supposedly only 15 no less!) and the girl never wore a bra once. Not that I’m advocating that women always wear bra’s (let your boobies fly free!), but sometimes the see-through nature of clothes make it necessary. It was all seeming obsessively creepy. It was only afterwards that I discovered that the film was Directed by a woman - Mia Hansen-Løve (more fool me!) and it is autobiographical. This through me into somewhat of a spin. 

Hansen-Løve paints a picture of young love torn apart that borders on obsession and is also 100% bloody depressing.  I get it though - young love can be super-dramatic. It can make you hysterical. Make you lose your appetite, cause you to throw up and many other horrible things to your stomach.

So the plot goes - Girl ‘Camille’, (Lola Créton) and boy ‘Sullivan’ (Sebastian Urzendowsky) fall in love. Girl is way more into boy and suffocates him with her over-zealous behaviour. Boy wants to experience life and sew his seeds across South America. Boy leaves girl. Girl goes into an intense period of mourning which results in a seemingly never ending sequence of scene’s of her looking sad, forlorn, melancholy, sorrowful, troubled, tormented, desperate and eventually suicidal (my thesaurus ran out there). Girl carries on being a miserable git for years whilst becoming a successful architect and managing to snag a Norwegian bloke who loves her (despite her constant and unwavering state of suffering). Boy returns from South America and wants to girl back. Now girl must decide. 

Sounds pretty enjoyable right? Well it would have been if it was about 30 minutes shorter. By the time you reach the 84th scene of Camille looking sad and longing for Sullivan, you are actually hoping she might just do us all a favour and throw herself off a bridge. Hansen-Løve does make light of the matter though in scene whereby Camille and Sullivan go to see a film together, following his return from South America. Sullivan hates it and Camille likes it. ‘I know. It’s too long and too French for you. You just don’t understand it’s sensitivity and melancholy’, she jokes to him. ‘Well you have the monopoly on sensitivity and melancholy’ he jokes back. 

Pro’s:

• The French countryside looks stunning and inspiring
• You get to see a lot of boob if you like that type of thing

Con’s

• It’s a little long and self-indulgent 
• Camille is a bloody drag (although I suppose that’s the point)

Watch the trailer here to get in the mooooood - Goodbye First Love

Over and Out!

Au Revoir!

Saz xxx

Male Strip Clubs: Why are they so embarrassing?

A friend was telling me a story the other day about a male strip joint. Her and some friends were ‘forced’ to enter this establishment as it was the only place to drink past 10pm in a very small town in Grand Canaria. The place was called ‘Harley’s, which in itself conjures up images of muscle-bound, rippling, over-tanned, leather-skinned pelvic-thrusting…..men. It got me thinking about why male strippers are so painfully, excruciatingly, embarrassing. Female strip clubs are more seedy, a little dark and slightly dangerous (if you don’t pay up - so I’ve been told!), which is not ideal either, but male strip clubs are so cringe-worthy they make my buttocks clench.

I’ve only had the pleasure of attending one of these type of places. It was about three years ago for my friend Tiff’s Hen night. It was in Perth, Australia and it was called ‘Collars & Cuffs’. Please take a moment to have a look at the website here www.collarandcuffs.net.au. It’s worth it for the rotating banner at the top alone. 

It was held in a venue which looked somewhat like a bingo-club from the 80’s (which it may well have still been used for during the day). Imagine the poor old biddies not aware that some shaven testicles covered in coconut oil had been rubbed all over the table the evening before. It was all brown paisley carpet and rickety old trestle tables. The lighting wasn’t overly flattering either. 

The guy running it was a veteran stripper. I mean he didn’t strip any more, purely because no one would want him to. But, his heart was so close to the naked-male gyration industry however that he couldn’t bring himself to retire and was now the master of ceremonies. He enthusiastically introduced the men like a proud gander, waddling up and down the stage. Each one came out, pumping, thrusting and flexing. It was all too much for me. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed. We’d been drinking for at least 12 hours by this stage but I just couldn’t get into it. 

Each stripper showed off his special skills. Some could dance, some could flick their long hair around a lot and some just rubbed themselves against things.Then one of them started approaching, prowling through the crowd of screaming Hen parties. Feather bower’s, glitter and Revlon Charlie was wafting through the air. As he approached and tried to hump us I screamed and freaked out!

The master of ceremonies was straight over. ‘Why did you do that!? That’s not cool!’. He claimed that I had disrespected the ‘performers’. Now I know this type of thing would never happen in a female strip club. i.e. no man has ever run screaming from a stripper, unless of course she was approaching with dominatrix style ball-clamps. Had I really offended this guy? Would he go home and cry while making love to his dumbbells later that night?

I once read that the problem with strip clubs is that no one is having a good time. Not the strippers and not the audience, no one. It’s all just a bit embarrassing. Well, I can confirm that these male strippers WERE having a good time. Some of the women at the show were also having a good time. I however was being kicked out.

Do male strippers make you feel weird?

Would you die if someone organised one for your birthday and you screamed into his nether-regions as he thrust them in your face?

Should I stop thinking about this? It is giving me nightmares

Love

Saz x

Damien Hirst at Tate - Sorry about this….

Firstly, I would like to make it clear that I know nothing about art. I mean, I can see it with my eyes, because I HAVE eyes and I did make a nice thing out of pipe-cleaners and glitter at school, however I am in no way in art expert.

(I include this disclaimer as I don’t want any art bods sending me lengthy, well thought-out responses to this blog in order to cut me down and ruin my future career as a ‘joke’ art critic - which even though it is a ‘joke’, I will seriously be considering).

I would also like to point out that I painted these pots on the weekend which classifies as an artistic endeavour so I am formally qualified to comment. 

Here’s what I learnt at the Damien Hirst Exhibition at the Tate:

SPOTS ARE COOL BUT NOT THAT COOL

If you like spots, you’re going to like this part of the exhibition A LOT. If on the other hand, you hate spots or maybe even have an irrational fear of spots (Trypophibia), then I would 100% steer clear. 

These multitude of spot paintings in the exhibition are described as taking a ‘scientific approach to painting’. Apparently Damien didn’t actually paint the spots himself. He got a team of people do it. He just came up with the ‘concept’. Sometimes I have a concept where I shave lots of tiny love hearts into my bunny rabbit but I don’t actually do it (that isn’t a metaphor BTW). This only adds to my impression that Damien is taking the piss. 

SMOKING STINKS

The massive ashtray installation ‘Crematorium’ (1996) really does stink. It’s full of fag butts and ciggy packets. If you are thinking of quitting smoking and need to feel repulsed by it then I would recommend spending a good 10 minutes standing near this installation. 

THE SHARK IS A BIT SHRIVELLED 

One of Hirsts’ most famous works ‘The Physical Impossibility of Death in the mind of Someone Living’ (1991), in other words, the shark in formaldehyde, is meant to induce fear. It does a little but mainly looks a little shrivelled. 

THE BUTTERFLIES ARE VERY PRETTY

This was a nice departure from fags butts and a dead cow head with flies crawling on it. ’Sympathy in White Major - Absolution II’ (2006) is a huge piece made from thousands of delicate, shiny butterflies who have had their pretty shimmery wings RIPPED OFF and stuck to a board. The effect is like a stained glass window. They had a smaller version available to buy for £35,000. I could’ve bought it but couldn’t really be bothered. 

THOUSANDS OF DEAD FLIES LOOK LIKE PUBIC HAIR 

I stood staring at ‘Black Sun’ (2004) from a distance. A huge round piece covered in what I thought looked like thick, black pubic hair. Turns out it was a shit-load of flies. 

So there you have it! An Art review direct from one philistine to all of youz

Do you think this is Art?

Will you go and see the exhibition?

Should I stop typing now? OK, you’re welcome 

BYE!

Saz x

Sicily: FOOD Glorious FOOD!

Buongiorno!

Now I know I am slightly biased when in comes to Sicily, but if you’re not convinced by the azure Mediterranean, the wealth of art and culture and the glorious weather, then for the love of God - you MUST be won over by the food.

The only way it would be possible not to like the food is if you had no tongue, no tastebuds and no heart. If this was the case you would be dead, so I will assume you all like food! 

It really is a religious experience. It leaves people silent. Just chewing and pulling faces like they’ve seen some sort of divine light. I know you think ALL Italian food is good, just like ALL of Jackie Collins novels are great, but the South really does have the edge on the North. Sicily in particular craps all over the rest of Italy when it comes to food.

If you’re worried about your waistline, then never fear, I have done you all a favour and popped down there for Easter to bring you a round-up of the very best bits and where you can find them. I’ve also consumed all the calories and am still dancing them off.

Let’s start at the top:

‘A is for Aranacini’  

Little balls of rice sent down from the Gods. Sicily is FAMOUS for Arancini. These fist-size balls of rice come in a variety of flavours including ‘Carne’ (meat and peas), ‘Burro’ (butter), ‘Prosciutto e Mozzarella’ (you know that one) and ‘Pesto’. The rice is cooked and the filling is placed inside. The ball is then rolled in bread crumbs and grated Parmesan and fried. You can grab one in most bars, hot or cold and wolf it down with your hands. It’s a snack to some, a meal to others. Depends on the size of your appetite. 

Here they are in all their glory *droooooooooooooooool*

You can find the best Arancini in the capital Palermo at Bar Alba 

Dolce!!

Dolce means sweet in Italian and my goodness do they know how to do a dessert. The Sicialians are famous for their dolicini (little sweets), cannoli (filled with smooth, creamy ricotta), torta (cake) and gelato (ice-cream of course!).

Feast your eyes on these bad boys…..

These ladies were making festive desserts for Pasqua (Easter). 

Grab some dolce from Pasticceria Cappello in Palermo and get it all over your face. You won’t regret it. 

Funghi (mushrooms)

In In the lovely little town of Castelbuono, nestled amongst the mountains, there’s a mouth-wateringly good restaurant called Nangalarruni. A cosy, warm fire-lit place with some of the best vino you’ll find in Sicily. I once went here with someone who hates mushrooms which was a big mistake as you can’t escape from them here. They are the pride and joy of this restaurant. You’d find them in every dish and the walls adorned with pictures in their honour. If however you are a fan then you MUST go. 

My advice is don’t order from the menu just ask them what’s fresh and they will keep bringing plate after plate of orgasmic cuisine from fresh pasta with funghi to succulent meats. Wear elasticated trousers. 

Verdure e Frutta (Veggies and Fruit)

I know it sounds boring but fruit and veg in Sicily are NOT boring. They are bloody delightful! Grown in rich volcanic soil, bursting with colour and full of flavour. We stalked down some seriously sexy-looking fruit and veg in the market in Palermo. Check it…

These tiny little strawberry’s ‘fragoline’ are SO sweet and SO zingy and SO awesome. Get some and shove them directly in your gob asap. 

Some other excellent restaurants to visit in Palermo if you want to be nice to your tastebuds are:

Trattoria Biondo This Palermo favourite, still run by Biondo himself (a lovely man with a huge grey afro) serves up the very best in fresh Sicilian food from Pesce Spada (sword fish) to Cassata.

Pizzo e Pizzo Also in the centre of Palermo, Pizzo e Pizzo offers both a gourmet delicatessen and a restaurant. Here you will find some of the most impressive cheeses, cold meats and wines to stuff yourself on

OK, have I convinced you?

Are you hungry?

NOW GO!

Luv Saz x

Address Book:

Bar Alba: Piazza Don Bosco, 7, 90143 Palermo www.pasticceriaalba.it

Pasticceria Cappello: Via Colonna Rotta 68, 90134 Palermo www.pasticceriacappello.it

Nangalarruni: Via delle Confraternite, 5  90013 Castelbuono www.hostarianangalarruni.it

Trattoria Biondo:V. CARDUCCI 15, Palermo www.ristoratoribiondo.com

Pizzo e Pizzo: V. XII GENNAIO 1/P, Palermo www.pizzoepizzo.com 

Saz’s Film Review: Headhunters

When my friend Keely asked me to see this film with her, I was like - ‘what!? A film about recruitment consultants?’ That sounds shit. What next, a film about used car salesmen!? Oh, I just Googled that and found this - The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard - A Film about used car salesmen with Jeremy Piven which looks like something I might watch. Anyway, YOU GET MY POINT.

So, I knew nothing about the film, which I decided is the best way. Headhunters - What is it all about? It’s about A LOT! A BLOODY LOT! Not just some guy trying to find the right candidate for the right role and then taking a cut of the commission. Quite frankly that would be a shit story-line.

Firstly, it’s a Norwegian film, adapted from Jo Nesbø’s book (original name Hodejegerne) and it is all in subtitles. My advice is don’t drink wine before going to a subtitled film. After loitering in the bar at the Hackney Picturehouse for longer than was necessary we scurried belatedly into the cinema and squeezed our bums into the nearest seats available so as not to disturb other cinema goers. As a result We ended up massively close to the screen. It was therefore quite hard to watch the characters and read the subtitles at the bottom quite hard. Up. down. up down. I got the hang of it after a while. 

So basically this short Norwegian dude - Roger Brown (I know, not a very Norwegian name) is a big-shot Headhunter. He’s the kind of person you love to hate. Obsessed with money, 5.6”, chest puffed out and a little greasy

Roger has a tall, fit blonde wife - Diana (pron Deeee-aaannaaa) who he lives with in a stylishly designed Scandinavian house. Diana is an aspiring art gallery owner and also the owner of a very pert bottom. Roger is clearly punching above his weight here and makes up for his lack of ‘stature’ and ‘roguish looks’ with gifts. Lots of gifts. Diana wants kids but Roger is dead against it. Not that we know why. We assume it’s just because he’s a selfish career driven arsehole. 

Roger is an operator. A seasoned headhunter working on only the biggest jobs in the most important companies. He is trading on ‘reputation’. Sounds pretty boring right. Well YOU ARE WRONG! Roger is different. He is running a little side business involving the theft of priceless pieces of art from his candidates while they are out interviewing. Smart fucker. Perfect scam right!? NOT QUITE.

A handsome, charasmatic viking-looking Dude ‘Clas’ comes on the scene. Clas is an ex-military man and tracking expert who is between jobs. Roger wants Clas for a super high-profile role with one of his clients - Pathfinder, who produce GPS systems. More accurately he wants to steal a piece of art that belonged to Clas’s grandmother.

That’s when shit gets heavy. The job goes wrong. Things spiral out of control. Ulterior motives are at play and the plot thickens.Roger is on the run and he goes through some shit - LITERALLY. Just when you think things can’t get any worse - THEY DO! Who is working for who? Who is on who’s side? Why is he involved in an unfortunate tractor / dog related incident?Why is Roger 6ft deep in human shit and breathing through a toilet roll?  Yes, this actually happens. 

It a seriously exhilarating ride which made us cringe, squeal, and laugh! The film manages to be stylish, thrilling and humorous all at the same time. Apparently an American company has bought the rights to make an American version. I can’t imagine it could be anywhere near as awesome as this one!

So, my verdict?

GO SEE THE BLOODY FILM!

Watch the Trailer HERE

Tell me if you like it

Love Saz x