this blog is being neglected by me - marlboro-due to my laptop being an absolute waste of £800 WANKER and refusing to turn on. 

this upsets me and will upset my wallet when I pay for the replacement harddrive. 

i cannot respond to comments, I cannot post pictures of new shoes or my grey toenail polish or my usual inappropriate musings until this issue is rectified.  usually i can be quite flakey, but understand recently this is not the case. 

i wrote this post at the office, I took a massive risk in posting the word WANK while sitting next to my boss. this is how much I love all 477 and the occasional other of you who read this blog.

bear with me people.

MM x

LOVE STORY

'It's amazing the relationships you can force upon people'

My mate Tone recounts how she found love for

cigarettesandhighheels.

Marl, I've learned the secret to relationships, you just need to find a bloke that is persistent enough to put up with your shit  - I mean look at me and J.

 Tone and J had been friends for years before they started dating.

I don't remember the first time we kissed - I was drunk.

I can't remember the first time we 'did stuff'- I was also drunk.

When I started waking up next to him after drunken nights out, and after we'd did stuff (and remembering that we'd done stuff)  I'd burst into tears and repeat over and over 'what's happening, I don't know why this is happening, what the hell am I doing?' to his face. 

When I got over that phase I'd just wake up and say 'don't tell anyone we'd did stuff or else'.  

I forced him into secrecy.

I forced secrecy on him for a year.

I'd also date other people who I didn't like, so then J was allowed to come over afterwards so I could tell him how awful the dates were... and so we could do stuff. 

At this point Tone goes to buy a round....

So yeah, where was I...? Oh yeah doing stuff.  Yeah so after that, he'd just HANG ROUND ALL THE TIME

So I just like let him call me his girlfriend and mention to other people - but you know, with my approval. 

Now I love him. 

Piff -paff. 

follow me on twitter

http://twitter.com/MarlboroMartini

still figuring out the fug layout of this blog and where else I can ad the link so in the meantime, yeah join... I talk about all sorts of crap... none of it is really that interesting...mostly i'm just annoying.

Sold? 

Great stuff.

Today's Itinerary: 

Wake up

Finish reading 'a short history of tractor's in Ukrainian'

Eat biscuits 

Wash hair

Watch Supernatural season 5 finale

Eat Ice Cream 

Watch penultimate episode 90210 season 2

Paint toenails

Eat anything I can get my hands on

Bed.

Year of the we: No# 2 and a half

So yesterday it happened, the scenario you play out in your head (if you are me anyways) while you are going through the awful breakup.

I bumped in THE ex in the street. 

After spending 4 days covered in scabies cream and hopped up on prescriped anti allergy medicine (some nasty bites I picked up from my hotel in Nola... another scathing post, not for now) I decided it was time to venture into the outside world and engage in conversation with people who could,  youkno', actually talk back, so I went to meet a couple of friends for coffee. 

I was stood outside a cafe in East London, when he walked past. 

It went in slow motion. 

I saw him as he walked past right hand side, even though I did not turn my head I saw him (my peripheral vision is badass)... tensed up as knew he was walking behind me and as he went to turn the corner on the other side of the street we both looked round at each other and then he was gone. 

It did not play out like a Vidal Sasson advert as I always thought it would, hair blowing in the wind while I am working my best threads. I was wearing a mismatching denim shirt and jeans and brogues. My hair was up in a side ponytail ( my new favourite choice of ponytail that makes me the envy of every 6 year old in existence) and my fringe was dishevelled in the wind.  

I did not care.

I felt nothing.

Let me be clear on this I was absolutely infactuated with him I was 22 years old and he was the photographer lover who was the envy of all my friends.  For almost a year I sacrificed myself to be in his field of vision.  He being older and wiser knew and loved this and when he got bored of me he cut me down in one of the worst ways possible.  To put it bluntly this was not the best of breakups. It did not end well. 

I was reading the June issue of glamour yesterday morning and for all of it's poor choices of cover stars (Jordan, like really?), it hit on a point. A bad experience with an ex can in the aftermath can have the worst effect it has on your confidence.  I won't go into the experience, because like any relationship it has everything to do with both parties involved. However seeing him and feeling nothing made me realise much he used to dominate my thoughts and how little I thought of him (and of him) now. Nothing. 

Knowing I had finally gotten over the one I considered to be THE ONE signifies that after time I have picked myself up and am finally confident in the person I am (eww did I just write that).   I definitely know what I want and that even when I don't look like the glamazon (as I strive to be always- pseudo fashion blogger ya ya) what he sees/ thinks when he looks in my direction has no bearing on how I feel about myself whatsoever.

Here is to not making the same mistakes again. 

MM x

You did know there were two writers on this blog right? 

Last night I was out with the Mig-Miester and the conversation went like this:

Mig: So last week you were in Berlin yes?

Me: No. Last week I went to Dorset (blogged as Devon but really if it's outside the M25 it all becomes a blur and yes I am as ashamed as I am ignorant) speedboating.

Mig: So why did you write on your blog that you were in Berlin? 

Me: That wasn't me Mig, that was Miu Miu.

Mig: Who is Miu Miu? 

Me: The other blogger on cigarettesandhighheels . We've discussed this, like we really have.

Mig: I thought she had her own blog now?

Me: No that was the other one, there are two of us still.

Mig: Oh wait, no yeah...ok, yeah...I see.  So what was that post about the other night about Tricot stuff - were you drunk?

Me: No Mig, it wasn't my post, It was Miu Miu. Does it sound like she is drunk?

Mig: No, it just didn't sound like you. 

*both furiously gulp down free wine*


To be honest we could probably make it a little easier for you to understand but how would we be able to confuse you with our Magic powers?

To clear things up (but only a little) I'm 'MM' as in Marlboro Martini, she is MMP as in 'Miu Miu Pute'.

• I live in London and have excellent command of the English language... I'm only an apprentice wizard at French.
• Miu Miu lives in Milan and has excellent command of French, English, Italian and Spanish.

On the left of the screen:

Our separate profiles and links to our tweets.


I realise I'll probably have to do this again at some point, for now I hope that elays the complete banboozlement that probably had you walking in circles, scratching your heads and crying (at least this is what Miggy said she did when she was befuddled ;-) ).

Love u people.

MM (as in Marlboro Martini)

Last night...

• I went to a party
• It was beneath a record shop in Central London. 
• Free booze. 
• Free manicures. 
• Free popcorn
• The Mystery Jets played -yep you guessed it- for free...

I took no pictures because I was too busy being drunk. 

Please excuse my behaviour.

This morning I woke up 

• Fully clothed.
• In my sister's bed with her in it (yes I am STILL looking for a flat)
• and remembered I'd spent the night dancing to Garage and Dancehall music at Catch with Miggy and saying things like 'I'm growing my hair out so I can get laid, I loved my page boy cut but the boys didn't'.

WTF?

My head still hurts.

Here's to doing it all again tonight people.

 source:Cobrasnake

Happy effing friday. 

MM x 

FYI That girl Miggy = bad egg, in the best possible way.

I had to change the comment settings on the blog so only registered users can comment.

I don't like it - I had to do it.

I'll explain.

I kept getting romantic comments from 'Christian Louboutin' & 'Ed Hardy' asking me to 'click links for good deal'...

"Forward", I thought, 

 "Perhaps they want to be friends and at least they know I'm cheap"...

Upon closer inspection I realised that Ed and Christian were posting the exact same message over and over and on old posts too...  

!!!I was suspicious!!! - I was even more suspicious when Christian ignored my request for some free shoes - "eff cheap"I thought "If he loved me to comment so many times then wouldn't he just give me free shit when I ask for it?"

After some investigation I came to realise this blog was not being romanced.

It was being orgyed. 

CHH was being'Surprised-sexed' in some gangsta advertiser three-way by some robot monsters calling themselves Ed and Christian. 

They were lying about their names, taking Cigarettesandhighheels from behind and rolling over afterwards without so much as a cuddle.

The guys at

have not figured out how to stop the sex monster yet, so in the meantime I have decided to use some blogger birth control.  

...I mean, Cigarettesandhighheels is a pretty easy blog...and when it comes down to it, all Ed and Christian had to do was ask - wait for approval-and then pay...

I didn't say this blog never put out - it just does not put out for free.

MM x

This means for the time being anon commenters cannot comment, which sucks.  but hopefully these tools will quit raping my page and I can relax the restriction.

ever have one of those weeks when...

1.      You are sure that you woke up, because you were there when you got out of bed... yet every day @ 10am and despite two cups of americano followed by a latte, your brain insists on pretending it is still asleep
2.      When everything anyone says to you is irritating and you overreact to anything uttered in your direction, even 'hi'. [them] 'hi' [you] 'ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? - eff off', [them] hey I wanted a latte, you should of told me when you popped down to s-bucks [you] 'I'm not your effing skivvy - eff off'. 
3.      As an extension of the point made above, start raging at complete strangers  i.e. Berating the 'Topshop twitterer' because she insists telling you she likes 'carrots and homus' 3 times over lunchtime and try as she might, cannot spell houmous/ hummus right. Publically humiliating 'American Apparel' (via twitter - and rightly so in my opinion) for holding a best bum contest on their site (- puke, retch, yuck, eerr whatever AA)
4.      Tell your new exec that he irritates you because he say 'mmm she's nice can I have her number' as you scroll through the 4th and bleeker blog
5.      Make your friends feel so bad about your bad mood they offer to take you to dinner to cheer you up, and  you turn them down because 'YOU DONT WANT TO TALK TO THEM OR ANYBODY ELSE FOR THAT MATTER' this evening. 

I may be having one of those weeks... 

MM x

 h   a   p   p   y      f   r  i   d   a   y

I'm in a mischievous mood tonight.

Going to an indoor (yes you read correctly) picnic and then on to a friends birthday drinks.  These are perfectly entertaining friday evening pursuits, but I reckon I could make them that little bit more amusing.

Here's my plan - anything I say to anyone I'm gonna scream NAAAATTTTT at them afterwards - kinda like a 6 year old with torrets, whose 'bad word' vocabulary is restricted to 'no' and turning everything into a negative:
 

'Happy birthday - NNNNNAAAATTTTTT'

'Like your dress - NNNNAAATTTTTT'

'I haven't seen you in ages, we should definitely do this more - NNNAAATTTTTT'

'I'll get this round in - NAAATTTTTTT'

and so on...

I'll update you as to how many times I can do this without a swift left hook to the face.


Childish behaviour for someone my age?  Some of us have to get our kicks somehow.  I'm just saying.

MM x 

Source: fashion gone rogue


*if you decide to join me into putting this into practise, please, please please let me know in the comments below. It's the little things in this life...

Dude...

Sunday 7th March: 7pm

My date:

'Hey sorry I missed your call, phone was charging.

Am at the parent's thought I'd be out sooner than this 

but they are making me discuss things like finances etc. 

Could be here a while. SOO sorry DUDE'

1. If a man calls you 'dude' when they know full well you are not, it's not going to work out.  Dude, mate, matey... It's like a knee full force in the lady area.

This is just fact. 

2. Canceling a date because of parent drama, meh, it happens. Forgetting to cancel date OMGOMGOMG=BAD.

The worst part is this was a re-offence, as in, me and 'dude' tousled before a few years ago and he sucker punched me then (metaphor 'sucker punch'  this is not a scary COI ad, abusive relationships -wah?) and I felt sucker punched when this one landed in my BB as well. 

I spent the whole of last week being like, 'and then he said, and then I was like, and then he wrote, but then..??' *mouth hangs open and confused face*.  Confused especially as asked me out three times before I agreed in the first place. How did he wind up getting to be the one to be all dismissive and 'dudey'?

I have now peaced out on 'dude'. 

Very hot (like OMGOMGOMG hot).

Very Funny.

Probably the best date I have been on in forever. 

But really, if I'm confused face this early in its not good. 

Besides, if anyone should be confused face it should be him.... I'm all fashion and unattainable and sh*t...
 and he lives in zone 3*.

Whatever. 

As you can see, year of the we is going well for me.

MM x

*London area zone for all you non London folk.

Whose house? Muummmm's house.

Moving house is stressful people!

Packing, boxing, lifting... arguing with the removal guy because he believes you have too many magazines for him to carry down the stairs, then fending off the removal guy in his skeezy van on the ride across town while he leers at you and asks you whether you are a model.

F-balls... and I have to do this again in 2 months time.

I'm currently chilling at my mum's house until I move into my very OWN apartment.  Mum's does have its benefits (aside from the financial):

50 inch flat screen TV (all the better to watch James Cook & Sam and Dean Winchester on), home cooked meals (who wants skinny arms anyway?) and of course using my sister's bedroom as my own personal walk in closet because she will never know, being at university in the south of England and all.


Currently sitting on my temporary bed with conditioner in my hair and shower cap on - it's at these moments I do wish I had a webcam, I look ridiculous and would be more than happy to share my unsexiness in all its glory- later I will pumice my feet while watching Saturday night TV...

I can do this at mum's house and incur no judgment.

MM x

Saturday night...

Year of the 'we' continued: 1st date of the year

I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard -all-night-long.

Cute - check.

Funny - check.

General hawwtness - check. 

I'm doing my best not to sabotage this... so um,

:-*

MM x


P.S: All I want to do is talllkkk about it...

LFW: Day one

I wasn't going to go, I really wasn't.  Because I'm sick... and not a very gung-ho sick person.

I should have followed my instincts and got back into bed, especially when I hit the pavement and one of my shoes was making that 'tac tac tac' I need to be re-heeled noises.

Somerset house was cold - I was fluey.  Not a righteous combination... and after missing all the morning shows (due to achey-boneage  and runny nose troubles) I met up with possibly the most glamorous sidekick/ photographer ever and we queued for the Bora Aksu show.

And we queued...

And we queued until an adorned PR strolled past and told us in her sing-song voice that the show had already started and they were not letting anybody else in*.

F*ckballs.

Totally put out by this I put the rest of my tickets on layaway I went and had coffee and cheese sandwiches at Cafe Nero down the street.

So out of 6 shows I had booked in today I went to 0.

The only fun thing about today was getting home and eating chicken wings while watching America's next top model and hearing one of the contestants declining a nude photo-shoot by saying:

'I can't get naked like that, its not lady like...especially not when there are going to be guys down there all in my private party - this is for my husband'.

It tickled me.

Anywho, some cool pictures of today to follow. Tomorrow 5 more shows and lashings of exhibitions, I will do better.

Loveness.

MM x

*really, thanks for that.

'Cookie here is a criminal, but we forgive him'

The thing about the flu is, when it gets you it really gets you. 

aches

fever 

sneezing and vitamin C

So far I have spent the day lying in bed doing nothing but watching catch up TV online, sneezing and being mildly irritating on twitter... also have spent a lot of the day screwing because I cannot have a bar of chocolate. 

What did I have today that I love? 

Skins.

In the wider scheme of things it is absolute nonsensical program - No one at 17 takes as many drugs, smokes as many cigarettes and comes out alive at the age of 19 - forget club 27.  Yet is nice to know somewhere out there in fantasy land world people are more screwed up than I am.

MM x

Why are you showing me pictures of sh*t I can't eat?

Today = first day of lent, therefore = first day of Marlboro rage.

No sugar based treats for 40 days and 40 nights... apparently there is a world outside Kit Kats and fruit pastels???

I'm currently in bed with the flu, eating an apple and NOT enjoying it.

MM x

Because tonight Matthew I'm over sharing...

I was convinced I had Valentines day locked because after a couple of years apart an ex boyfriend WHO I REALLY LIKED!!  Got in contact.


This made me happy. :-)


...and after a week of textual nonsense I believed he had grown up and had rid himself of his bad habits.


This was until I got the

What are you doing tonight?

booty call text.


(URGH. F"$%R^*&ghknp!!! ) like, really-really?

So now I would like to publicly let him know in the most composed way possible - this behavior is wholly inappropriate and I shan't be sharing my booty with you ever again. 

Moron. 

[edit] I totally caved.

MM x 

So instead I have spent the day getting over the mother of all hangovers. 

FYI, lock-ins are never a good idea.  Champagne & vodka, never a good combination. Also when your friend invites you behind the bar - don't start charging for free drinks and pocketing the money - to whomever it may concern, IOU £20. 

Oh the disgraceful life I lead. 

Hope you all had better days than mine. That is all.

No, not another 'Anti' Valentines Day post...

 

 

Source: (all) Fashion Gone Rogue

Contrary to the 'blah-ing' of yester year...  I'm feeling in the mood for all things valentine (perhaps this is why I'm blogging a whole lotta naked recently)...

Anywho, to speak of it yet would be to jinx it...  

:-*

Just give me lacey and sexual.

Shine and love x

MM x


twitter.com/MarlboroMartini

Things that happen when I get drunk

The running man  (always and forever. Amen)

Pizza and wedges

More running man

Big macs

Falling asleep on the bus home (primrose hill) and waking up in Finsbury Park - WTF??? 

Finally making it to bed and falling asleep in one of a kind pleated dress brought from NYC that cannot be ironed (is now crinkled to shitsville), leather jacket, Max Mara coat & full face of make-up. 

Not being able to open my left eye for a full 20 mins the next morning. 

Why does being drunk equate to eating as much food as I am able to get my hands on? I may have to change my name to Marlboro 'Muffin top' Martini aka human dustbin. Yummers.

Another interesting thing that happened last night when I got drunk was bumping into an ex who was obviously on a date. I decided it would be a good idea to go over and say hello.

I was that drunk.

More proof?

When my friend escorted me away from the awkwardness, I grabbed a random guy's sunglasses (hello 2am in a bar in London?! Fail) put them on, then kind of jumped on his back and spread my arms pretending I was an aeroplane.

There are pictures.


I acknowledge this is inappropriate behaviour for a human being - yet I am still secretly kind of proud of myself.

Blah.

MM x

Digital love.

Online dating.

How do you say that without losing all cred? You can't.  Which is why after a full week of editing, I'm still hesitant to publish this post.

OK so hear me out.  I have not began to make shiny love in the online space, this is not one of those stories.

It’s almost one of those stories.

Actually, more like a cautionary tale…like, ummm.  Just keep reading.

The idea was put into my head after a several conversations with annoyingly loved up friends that went like this.

Friend: You want a fancy man, why don’t you try on-line dating?

Me: Because online dating is for weirdo’s who light matches and flick them at unsuspecting passers by. People who are too socially inept to meet people in the real world. 

No matter how many times friends try and pull out the 'online big-guns', I always respond with a resounding NO. don't ask me why, but online dating always equates to men who try and set fire to other people. 

Yet 'friends' always seem to think they know best.

[Another]Friend: Seriously, My friend’s, sister’s best-friend met her new fiancé online – they are sooo-hooo in lurrrrve

When people over emphasize it is a clear indication that they have no idea what they are talking about.  Proof:

Friend: like really, he is taking her to Fiji next week – they are totally getting married. Really.

When they have said this all I can think is - I bet he has a cape, can lift a tow truck with one arm and save a baby from a burning building at the same time.  Oh and I bet he walks around in big red pants.  I want to say this every-time, but instead I stuck with the simple

Me: Umm nah.

So how did I find myself browsing a certain online dating site?

I could tell you that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  I would be lying.

The truth is a friend who was already online told asked me to help her 'shop for men'.  I love to shop.  when someone pushes the shop element of anything I will buy into it. If someone shouted randomly who wants to shop for Oompa  Loompas I would shout 'ME, ME ME' credit card waving my raised arm while my other hand shields my crotch like the annoying wee-wee girl you were inevitably sat next too all the time in school assembly. Even with NO money the will to have said 'item' is usually enough, I tend to stare at the store owner until they give me what I want. Or call the police.

I digress.

This friend - nymph-like blonde actress- wanted me to help pick out a suitable date since her LA actor boyfriend moved back to LA.

At first I made the squinty-eyed face, I was too afraid to look directly at the screen expecting to see misshapen men who looked like they would howl they are exposed to too much sunlight. So I was surprised/ relieved to find that all the main components were there.

1 pair of eyes – check

1 nose – check

1 mouth – check.

Between this point and actually selecting guys that were to go in her 'shopping basket' I became addicted (some were sooo pretty- I like pretty), so much so when said friend suggested that I get my own profile, I had one set-up quicker than you could say '£30 quid subscription and profile pic'. I'd even thought of a online dating name pseudonym -  ‘Marlboro’ cunningly disguised as 'Marl-85’. 

This is when the story gets ouchy - an hour in.

Ouch number one:

Accidentally eyeballing the profile of a guy I once dated at uni - tall, blonde, captain of the football team tried-to-hook-up-with-my-best-friend-while-we-were-still-dating guy.

Yikes.

As soon as I realized who it was I clicked off.

DID YOU KNOW WHEN YOU CLICK ONTO THEIR PROFILE THEY CAN SEE YOU?

I didn't.

Him being dim, starting 'chatting' to me (like I would want to speak to him???? 7 years on and I'm still clutching onto that grudge like there is no tomorrow).

I won't even go into the details of the conversation.  Just know that it was awkward. After a about 2 mins I got very frustrated with social niceties and just asked outright if he had 'gotten fat and unattractive? Is that why he grooming people online?'

This is where the conversation ended.

In the meantime I had ouch number two awaiting me in my inbox.

An email which read:

'Hey little Marl... Long time, no speak.'

An email from an ex love interest - actor, complete with personality disorder & drug addiction - who called me 'little'.  

I ignored it.  Then I hid my profile. THEN I DELETED MY PROFILE.

I have come to the following conclusion, online dating websites are not full of weirdo's per say - they are just a place where the men you have shoved out of your life have gone to die.   They are not so much full of men who start fires as opposed to men who should be set a-light.

The year of the 'we' was threatening to get the better of me but in my 'search' (which took 2 hours and left me £30 out of pocket) I have discovered this:

It is better to feel the fabric before committing to purchase - this can only be done in the real world. Seeing the wrong the fabric coming gives you time to run in the other direction, especially if its one you had worn before and remember how much you hated it the first time.


Men on-line are there for a reason.  Women online are just misguided (and snowed in). Naturally.

Wow, it feels so good to finally get that off my chest.


MM x

*and before you say it, I've had the 'you don't need to go online for love' (confused face) I have had this conversation 1,000,000 times since with many of my friends. I also had one who just screamed NOOOOOOOOOO and hit me over the head with her clutch.