I've got a new baby...

He's so so cute.

I hereby declare you Generation A, as much at the beginning of a series of astonishing triumphs and failures as Adam and Eve were so long ago

If you like Douglas Coupland, and have read Generation A (or want to), you will love this video.

And if you like that video you might want to read my latest blog post on sarasizzle.com

And if you like my blog post then... awesome. Thanks.

Things that I want...

A dressing table...

Oh how I desire you.

A well lit venetian mirror. Draped with Gucci flora foulard scarves.

Neat lines of unique minature perfume bottles.

A huge and ornate dusky pink vintage atomizer.

A giant bottle of Channel number five.

A tiny flawless teddy Poppy bought me for mothers day.

Casually kicked off silk slippers next to plush, clean white vanity stool.

Red lipstick.

Crème De La Mer moisturiser.

A crystal glass ashtray.

A small but devine selection of Molton Brown scented candles. Spicy ginger. Nutmeg.

Swarovski crystal treasure boxes. Three of them in different sizes of miniature.

Drawers lined with beautifully pattered paper - lightly scented with rose water.

One filled with pretty jewellery boxes containing diamond earrings and vintage pearl bracelets, the other H.Couture lipsticks and mascaras, a horde of Touche Éclat.

Ah.

That is the dream.

I am currently lusting over this one in particular:

Although I sense my final choice may well be an antique.

Yes I am a girly girl.

Well, I can be when it takes my fancy.

Someone find me my dream home then lend me a few tens of thousands of pounds to furnish it.

Pretty please?

“I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man who had no feet.”

My little sidekick... Or, Her little sidekick...

My Pop Star is a bit off-colour at the moment.

She has a cold that's gone on her chest.

I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I HATE IT.

When.

She.

Is.

Ill.

Or sad. Or angry. Or frustrated. Or uncomfortable.

Her cold, coupled with:

- the terrible twos (and they really can be terrible)

- her recent referral to an orthopaedic paediatrician as she has a combination of what is effectively knock-knees (although I'm summing that up from various things the doctor has said) plus re-accuring knee and leg pains she's complaining of...

I'm worried sick.

I cried my eyes out on Tuesday when I had to drop her off at nursery - - usually a task I reserve for Chicken as the picking-up nursery slot is oh-so-much-more fun.

(The 'Mummy Mummy' *shrieks of joy you are here YOU ARE HERE* when you arrive to pick her up... in stark comparison to the looks of utter disbelief at the callous abandonment as she sits down to munch her Cornflakes when you drop her off are a harsh reality of putting your toddler in childcare. Highs. And. Massive MASSIVE lows).

On Tuesday, a bit tired, a bit full of cold, as I went to leave she just looked so utterly heartbroken to be left alone with the other children and nursery nurses.

Then, as I left, her tears subsided for a moment when the nursery nurse said

'let's watch Mummy walk away from the window'.

*nod nod* from Poppy.

Heartbreaking.

I walked down the path from the nursery with tears streaming down my face. Looking up at the 1st floor window at Pops in the arms of a practical stranger as she watched me walk away.

Watching me walk away something that she relished. A final glimpse of mummy before tea-time.

ARGH!

I rang Chicken in a right state.

You just get so many emotions.

Guilt.

Sadness.

Confusion.

And, in all honesty, many times...

Relief.

But it's a negative emotion. A negative relief.

Exhaustion playing tricks on your brain.

This Tuesday morning she managed to break my heart. I still feel a bit broken.

I'm sure she's ok.

My mother's instinct tells me she is often playing on the attention she gets when she's ill...

She seems to be 'feeling poorly' more than ever.

Strange, when at nursery when she 'felt poorly' last week she got to go to a 1st b-day party with her absolute favourite nursery nurse and act as a helper who was then worshipped by the rugrats in the ever-snotty-baby-room.

Often, the running around like a loon and screaming for 'Dora.. or... Diego PLEASE', her desire to 'EAT SOME ORANGE JUICE AND CHOCOLATE COINS... NOW!' comes only seconds after her seeming declarations of heart-wrenching illness.

'My tummy hurts'

'My leg hurts'

'I feel very sad Mummy'

Those are her favourites.

And of course these declarations of unhappiness make me stand up to attention like a army recruit in danger of not 'passing out' and letting everyone down.

Because I love her.

And love does weird things.

Even when I know, or am 99.9997% sure she's just after attention... I do what she asks or what makes her feel better...

Because I want her to be happy.

Anyway, I'm getting depressing.

Tell me to shut up.

To talk about Pops more generally, putting all this aside.

My GOD she is sweet at the moment.

Tonight, when I had finished reading her her stories (The Gruffalo, twice, The Bear Snores On, once, Where are You Blue Kangaroo, three times) she asked for her phone.

She has a phone in her room.

Not a working phone I add.

A Hello Kitty phone I got from my work collegaues as a gift a few years back.

I hand her the phone.

'I'm going to call Auntie Amanda' she says.

'OK, what for?' I say...

'Shhhh' she says back annoyed.

(pause - she holds phone to ear concentrating...)

Hello.

Hi. Yes. Auntie Amanda?

It's just Poppy calling....

Yes, hello.

Yes, hi.

It's just me.

I am in bed.

Yes.

Yes.

I'm ok. Thank you.

I'm with Mummy.

Ok.

Yes. Ok.

Love you too.

(pause)

I will.

Bye.

Bye-Bye'

Then, she hands the phone back to me.

How on earth does a two-year-old imagine such a conversation in her mind?

How on earth could anything be more sweet?

More clever.

More Poppy.

Argh. I love her so much.

I dread the day she's not my little side-kick anymore. But I know that day will come.

Because I can't be one of 'those' mums.

However much I'd love to be.

I don't think I should be out clubbing with Pops when she's 16 and I'm 39/40.

.

.

.

But, then again, that's not that old is it? ;)

Peace out

S S

xxxx

Photos of my Photos

I've just finished framing a few of my photos.

It makes me smile like a post Sunday roastie satisfied Cheshire Kitten.

This one (below) has appeared on this blog at some time or another.

I don't have names for any of my photos.

I struggle with it.

Unbelievably as I'm a writer by trade.

This photo was taken in Prague at Museum Kampa. Awesome place.

I have an ongoing project which I am obsessing over right now.

As you know, I take all these stupid photos of my feet.

After watching Lost in Translation again the other week I have decided I am going to make a massive canvas with all these photos in a huge collage, complete with the Scarlett Johansson quote from the film that is oh-so appropriate for my adolescent obsession with photography.

"I tried taking pictures, but they were so mediocre. I guess every girl goes through a photography

phase. You know... taking dumb pictures of your feet."

Anyway - particularly like the one above so I'm framing it. It'll be in the collage too though.

This next one was actually taken by Chicken in the park in September. Although I have done loads of Photoshop work on it and did all the camera settings, so I profess it is my image.

My legs and the back of the Pop Star. Something about this makes me really happy. Probably because it's screams 'care free' to me and that's what I desire more than anything...

I love the over-exposed look to it. And Poppy's hair looks beautiful.

These pics don't do it justice. BTW - if you click on them you can see them bigger and zoom in for a closer look.

Can't seem to rearrange these photos without screwing up the HTML so here's another one of the photo from Prague...

Anyway - no idea where I'm going to hang these photos. Our flat is so tiny. We've outgrown it massively.

Time to move again.

I already have photos everywhere that i've taken and framed.

E.g. these by the kettle.

This one of Pops that I simply adore and which sits next to our polaroids from days of yore (BP - that's before Poppy)

Below (and by our sofa) are two of my faves.

Chicken always moans that the only one of my photos of him I have framed is a blur... he's just a shadowy shape.

Bad for his ego, but I love the pic.

The top image is of my two sisters on my elder sister's hen weekend when we were shopping in Birmingham.

It really captures their relationship well I think.

Click on the image to zoom in.

I have many others dotted around the flat... and many many more than are waiting to be framed.

Some days I think I like photos more than words. It's my relaxing passtime. I could take photos, edit photos, look at photos, imagine photos... all day long. And the day would go in a (excuse the pun) flash.

Here are some of the pile waiting for some wood:

In my next place I plan to have a study where I do my writing and I'm going to frame everything... eventually, money permitting - and have a mini Sizzle gallery. Can't wait. I know i'm no Rankin but I enjoy it.

And everyone should do the things that make them happy.

Especially if it can't hurt anyone!

Anyways. Enough about photos.

What do you wanna talk about next?

A little self portrait session.

I've been testing out new settings on my camera.

Unfortunately I am, pretty much, my only willing subject.

Anyone wants to let me photograph them let me know!

Danyl Johnson: The Story of an X Factor Winner - In Reverse.

It was August 22nd 2009.

Saturday night.

After 13.6 bedtime stories, Poppy is finally in bed.

The wine is cold.

I have Twiglets.

Could life get any better?

Well yes. Yes it could.

Because on August 22nd the first X Factor show of the year started on ITV.

Chicken and I were squealing (yes literally, we really are quite pathetic when it comes to the show) as the opening credits erupted into the familiar du-da-du-dudududu....

And then, to make the evening even more of a sucsess - Danyl Johnson stepped on to the stage.

(watch this audition - again - and think about what he's really showing us here...)

Since that moment, Danyl Johnson has been a victim of a veritable storm of criticism. A hate campaign focused entirely on a insurmountable 'flaw' in his personality.

A personality 'flaw' which - I have to say - I've seen absolutely no evidence of.

Poor Danyl Johnson has been accussed of one of the most heinous of all reality television crimes.

Arrogance.

Arrogance - right up there with not being 'yourself' on Big Brother.

Overspending on The Apprentice.

Being Johnny Rotten on I'm a Celebrity.

Arrogance is one talent competition faux-pas too far for the GBP (that's Great British Public).

What completely flummoxes Mz Sara Sizzle is that, other than his (former, my god former) confidence on the stage I have seen absolutely no evidence of arrogance.

Not a shred.

Yes his performances at Simon's house were a little OTT - he did too much performing and we didn't get to hear his voice. But he was just trying to prove he was worth the quote that sealed his fate as the 'most hated contestant of all time' (does no one remember Journey South?)

Why did you do it Danyl?

Why did you provide us with, and I quote, "single handedly the best first audition...' Simon Cowell has ever heard?

What were you thinking?

Send him to the gallows.

In saying that, in being, let's be fair, honest about how amazing that audition really was, Simon set Danyl up for a rather enormous fall. And the GBP rubbed their hands in glee that they could orchestrate their part in it.

So what if he doesn't have a dead dad.

So what if he doesn't wimper like a wounded Puppy with gratitude at the end of every performance?

Danyl could go where so many others have before and milk his 'heroic' status as a teacher - as seen with the fat dinner lady a few years ago (her name escapes me), and the horrendous 'Mrs Trotman' (Beverly) who had her bloody Primary School Class in the audience every week whimpering 'WE LOVE YOU MISS TROTMAN' through the winter of 2007.

But he hasn't done that. In fact it's like we have all forgotten he's a teacher.

Good.

Why didn't they let us forget Andy was a binman all those series ago?

The perception of him as arrogant is fed by the f-ing Daily Star, stoked by a few fly-away comments in episodes past by his own mentor at judges houses, which the other judges latched on to like a starving new born baby at its exhausted mothers breast - suckling with all their might.

It's also kept alive by the fact that, well, he hasn't really said much at all.

Probably because he's afraid of what the reaction will be if he does.

People say that there is a fine line between arrogance and confidence.

I don't agree.

It all depends on the intent of the individual...

And who it is doing the labelling. And if that is the GBP - you better hope your story is right. That is fits the plot they've carved out in their head. The story of an X Factor Winner.

"If You’re Trying to Be an Ass, You’re Probably Succeeding"

But Danyl never tried to be an ass - just a good singer. A good performer.

The fact he succeeded in that makes him the most vulnerable contestant of all.

Some people thrive on their own arrogance.

The funny thing about these kinds of people is that they’re:

Often wrong,

Actually don’t know what they’re talking about,

And use arrogance to mask their lack of confidence.

Danyl Johnson does not fall in to this category.

In fact - on Saturday - he used nothing, nothing at all to mask his new found lack of confidence.

He just stayed silent. Sang slightly off-key. Looked broken. And it wasn't acting.

Everyone saw that.

So - hurray - we've beaten the confidence out of him.

That characteristic contestants past (Leona Lewis springs to mind) have been heralded for gaining throughout the shows.

Danyl just doesn't fit in to the plot line, that's all.

And we, the GBP, don't like that.

So we're reversing his story. The story of an X Factor Winner - in reverse.

The guy who could have won at his first audition, beaten down to a whimpering, teary guy 'not ready for this yet' - heck - maybe a family member will die from the hideousness of it all on the night of the final.

And maybe then the GBP will give him some credit.

A lot of people don't like confidence.

But I do. I admire it.

And I really hope he gets it back.

He's got my vote.

The original and the best - 251 days on Sara Sizzle is back...

Hello

Long time no blog.

I'm not gunna apologise....

Not really.

I've been busy. Busy...

Busy doing all sorts of things.

Getting so stressed with work I handed in my notice and now work from home.

Dealing with a little Popstar going through those terrible twos.

Writing.

Taking photos. Of course, taking photos.

But I am back. Sizzling. And ready to take you on a whistle-stop tour of the past 251 days...

So. Ready?

The rest of February

My older sis - Katie - had her hen-weekend which involved a stay in the lovely MaMasion in Birmingham's Mailbox.

Randy Mandy (my little sis) and I shared a room - - sneaking out at 3.00am to buy chips when everyone else had already passed out from the vast amounts of cocktails, wine, wine and, well, wine...

Bringing the tone down in the hotel foyer...

The posh lunch with the oldies...

The shopping...

The preperation... (Randy's hair extensions...)

The 'look'...

The challenges...

My favourite pic of the weekend...

The girls - JenJen, Katie the Hen, Randy Mandy and Sara Sizzle...

The (soon-to-be) Bridesmaids...

The L Plate Fairy Wings... (why, of course...)

That was pretty much right at the end of February.

It was also the time I went back to work full-time.

Big. Big. Mistake.

March

March - I took a lot of photos. My photography obsession really reached new heights in March.

Feet, of course...

The view from Blackfriars Bridge... taken on a day Chicken and I took a day off to relax on the Southbank...

My mother turned 50 and dad booked a lovely private section of Hotel du Vin in Birmingham for Champagne and an awesome meal...

We spent a lot of time in the park. The park has featured heavily this year. It's a tonic Brockwell Park. One of my favourite places on the planet.

Stop chasing me Daddy... no don't... no stop...

Uncles James and Col my lovely lovely friends come over all protective...

Poppy's private bodyguards.

My second mother's day...

Spring. Spring sprung and nobody really noticed.

April

Well, the undoubted highlight of April was my big sister getting married to my lovely new brother-in-law Ste.

Me and Randy Mandy were bridesmaids...

Pops was a flower girl...

Mum and Dad were very proud...

And Katie looked beautiful...

My personal highlight of the service was Poppy shouting 'I WANT SOME CAKE, NOW' at the top of her voice...

Isn't my dad a lucky man, having such beautiful children ;)

As well as being a bridesmaid I volunteered myself to say grace at the reception...

The Sizzle Sisters (And brother)...

The groom and his angels...

Love this photo of me and the boys...

Mr and Mrs Gray...

Beautiful. Ah, love, huh?

Later in April, Chicken went to Australia to visit Ellie and I invited my good pals Trace and Rach down from Liverpool and Wolves to keep me and Pops company...

Singstar insanity...

I found some beer called 'Sara'... awesome.

Poppy developed an obsession with rabbits. It didn't last long. It's cats now...


What a beauty...

We celebrated Chicken's return with a trip to a City Farm...

May

May May. May is the month that means one thing. Poppy May. Poppy May's second birthday. A fab day indeed.

Homemade Peppa Pig cake (thanks Mum...)

The Birthday girl...

We held her party in the park. Everyone giving Pops attention meant I got a chance to catch some rays...

Pops wasn't so keen on the sunshine to begin with...

We felt an intense rivalry with a neighbouring toddler party and so James and Ste spent long periods of time trying to tie balloons to trees to make our party look more Sizzling...

The Birthday girl. Some of my favourite Poppy pics of the year so far...

I would eat her if I could... she's lovely.

And cool...

So very cool (well, she's her mother's daughter...)

The party...

June

Father's day. Poppy spent the whole month on her new 'bike' (her trike that we got for her birthday).

A sunny sunny month.

It's father's day... smile!

A trip to Wolves... the day I found out Katie is PREGNANT! Yay. The most exciting news of the year...

Poppy building 'Katie Castles' (what she called sand castles when building them with Auntie Katie)...

Me and my dad took Poppy to a toddler fun-fair.

It was hell.

But I think Poppy enjoyed it.

So did my dad...

July

July wasn't a good month.

I found a Poppy field...

Then I totally lost it with stress.

Went totally off the radar for a while.

Came out of it all ok though.

Mark let me do a photoshoot with him...

Poppy took to drinking tap water...

Then Mark and I took a trip to Bristol to spend some time trying to decide what I should do with my life...


Bristol... where people walk around topless, apparently...

That tends to be me, not chicken...

Vain...

We went to that dam thing... it rained. SO much.

We went out, we drank and smoked too much. . . losing control on a Poppy-less weekend...

August

What direction to go in?

I started work as a copywriter again. Abandoning management for solitary (heavenly) work...

And more time with Pops.

Awesome.

My mum visited.

And we went up to Wolves again...

Lots of Sunny weather. Parks. Parks. Parks.

September

The last day of Summer - we went to the park (again... with James and Col)...

We had a hideous trip to the Natural History Museum. My god that was hellish... tourist stuffed, sweaty, annoying... awful...

Poppy did lots of posing...

And (I'm sorry, I'm sorry) I started a new blog and site. SaraSizzle mark 2. It's very different to this blog though... and a better URL.

We went to visit my very best friend Karis in Oxford and went punting...

Spent long periods of time in the playground...

The leaves fell...

October

I dyed my hair red again... after going blonder and blonder for months...
Another hen-do, this time my lovely friend Rach - who got married this month in Vegas.

This hen-do featured Champagne, Karaoke, Chinese Food and Willy Straws.

Me and the hen...

Chicken, Pops and I went to Center Parcs in Suffolk.

It was awesome.

We love ducks.

Poppy loves swings.

And Chicken loves swinging her...

I love Pops...

I'm spending 12 hours a day minimum staring at a screen and so have had to start wearing my specs to try and get rid of a constant left-eye twitch...

I baked...

X Factor themed cakes.

X Factor baby! Loving it this year... more of that soon.

Poppy went sailing.

Well, we went on a pedalo.

I put too many bubbles in the bath...

We swam a lot...

And then - this week.

I went even REDDER.

And that's it.

You are up to speed.

I know I couldn't be my normal hilarious and insightful self in this photo-fest of a post. But.

I am back.

I am back.

And in time to see out 2009 in true Sizzling style.

Phew, I suddenly feel like my old self again.

Peace out Sizzlers.

SS xxx

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Another week of feet, including Prague feet

Valentine's Day

Things that I want, part 9

Behold, the Little Island Custom Robot Dolls. 

Some may find these slightly (a lot) disturbing, but, personally, I would quite like one made of at least 16 of my nearest and dearest. 

All you do is send off a photo to this Japanese company, and wham... 6 weeks and $2215 later you have your own mini-me or mini-someone-you-want-a-mini-version-of. 

So. I don't just want one. I want one of everyone I am close to. We could have parties and watch TV together. But no one would nag me about being online too much and no one would make any mess.

Imagine. 

The dolls: 80gb, 40cm high, 500mHz computer, run Windows XP, have a built in webcam, touch sensors, a speaker, and can read you RSS feeds. 

Imagine. 

Imagine my own Mark doll sitting in the corner of the room reading me out an icanhascheezburger feed. 

Haha. 

I really do want one of these. 

Photo catch-up

In summary. 

We packed.

We moved.

It snowed!

...does pirouetting around the flat to 90s Britpop count as packing? Thought so.

Another week of feet

Things my boyfriend and I have argued about, part 2

The other day I was having a lovely lovely soak in our not so lovely bath, feeling relaxed for the first time in a day and a half as it was helping to ease the pain of a trapped nerve in my back (long story). 

Mark walks in to the bathroom, looks at me. Looks at his own girlfriend. Naked. Looks at me and says:

'I wish I was blind'. 

Packing it

We're moving.

We need to move.

Our flat is full of mice and JUNK.

LOADs of junk.

We're moving. To a posh new minimalist flat. Modern. Not able to deal with CLUTTER.

Sara Sizzle = Clutter Machine.

We're moving in three weeks.

My job today?

Sort out the wardrobe. My clothes.

My shoes.

My mis-matching earlings and lacy pants.

My bundles of laddered tights and flourescent pink socks.

The vests, the coats, the shorts, the skirts (mini, tartan, smart, ripped, denim, ra-ra, lacy, pink), the trousers, the JEANS: my GOD the jeans, the maternity wear, the beach wear the 'where on earth would I ever wear that to?' wear.

It wears me out just thinking about it.

Here come the heart palpitations, the misery, and a severe lacking of motivation.

I have a lot of clothes. A lot.

ALL a girl needs is a capsule wardrobe. Keep telling yourself that Sara. Capsule CAPSULE.

Bah. Where to start?

Here is the photo story of my day.

Start as you mean to go on... act sensible:



The first pile full:



Oh ok, a bit of bed-bouncing fun with the Pops, you know, just to get my mood up a bit:





Strike a pose:



First item. Now, should I keep my 'Sexy Santa' Ann Summers outfit?



And were shorts with a waistband like this REALLY ever fashionable?



Do plastic boxes make good hats?



Erm, no.



Strike another pose, you know, just for good measure.



My leopard print baby. Ridiculous as you are, I could never EVER give you up:



I've never worn this skirt...



...to this day I have NO idea why. (oooh, don't I look good in a veil?)



One of my sack-dresses, i.e. post birth purchases when size of whale. Bit of a shame with this one as is silk and lovely and, if I remember correctly, did wonders for those 34Fs when I said them (*sigh*)



Oooh glittery shoes. Me likes!



Nice aren't they? (they are red, glittery, high, uncomfortable, go with NOTHING, and I have never worn them. 'Keepers' me thinks!)



A little-bit 'Axel'...



Yee-hah! (seriously, cowboy boots?)



...AND they don't even fit me.



I'm sorry. But I just have to feel just a little bit happy (smug) that I used to wear these every day post-Poppy, and now. Well, look:



Slimfast ad:



Ear muffs. I hate the word 'muff' but I quite like these:



WHY did you let me go out in THIS DRESS? WHY? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY?



Apparently, one day in New Look, I fancied myself as a bit of a hippy and bought this tie-dyed atrocity. Christ. Got the hippy-hippy shakes. Why have I never been murdered?



Camouflage. Let me repeat that CAMOUFLAGE. Dungarees. Let me repeat that. Dungarees.



Truth be told, I've always known this furry, brown, erm... I'm not even sure what to call it, erm... 'top', was hideous. But Tracey used to tell me it made me like a cuddly teddy-bear so i've kept it all these years. Comfy level = 12 out of 10. Acceptable attire level = 0.



"NE-VER forget where you've come here from..." Yep, Take That t-shirt (one of six I came across today)

New year new (slightly blonder) hair. How very exciting for you.

Fingers crossed...

...I just sent Mark out with Poppy with a shopping list for a delicious dinner tonight for us and our lovely friends James and Colin to bring in 2009 in style. In the mentime, my plan was to get the flat spic and span.

I got distracted (surprise), though, by some peroxide and am now waiting for some rather chunky blonde highlights to develop in my hair. I have a feeling this could have been a BIG mistake. Eek! Fingers crossed!

2009: year of the green haired beast?

It is finally over...

...Christmas that is.

Don't get me wrong, I like a bit of Christmas as much as the next girl. But this year it just seemed to go on FOREVER.

Poppy's second Christmas.

Highlights included Poppy eating so many Chocolate buttons on Christmas morning that she was actually sick. Down my leg. On my new slippers. Then immediately resumed her chants of 'cock cock cock' (her, rather unfortunate, version of 'choc').

She refused to eat anything but peas and carrots for Christmas lunch. Oh, and an enormous bowl of custard.

She ran around like a lunatic all day long, throwing things around then shouting 'oh no' like she couldn't possibly begin to imagine how the tv remote ended up in the very place she threw it to.

She is a total monster and I love her.



My mum was really ill so my super-dad, god love him, was all alone in the kitchen and did us all proud.

Poppy had a lot of tantrums on CHristmas day. I think the excitement of it all was too much for her.

Her favorite pressies were:

- her little baby buggy, complete with Baby Annabel doll (although the doll was quickly thrown across the room in favor of a child-less buggy to push around).

- a dance with me Teletubby which is actually Dipsy but now called 'YaYa' which is Poppy's own special name for him. She carries him round by his antenna and punches him in the face. It's all a bit worrying really.

- a tea set. My GOD she loves her tea set. Top marks to Mark who suggested we get it for her. HOURS she spends, making pretend tea, stirring in pretend sugar, emptying pretend sugary tea between cups using a tiny spoon. Pouring pretend scalding tea over my head from the teapot...

As for me, well, I had some ace pressies.

My faves were this Mark Pawson People/Things Reversible Necklace from Tatty Devine (one of only 36 in the whole world!):



A great pressie from Mark. You can, my friends, either wear a necklace saying 'People' if the mood should take you, or 'Things' if the mood should not. I love it.

Another fantastic pressie from Chicken was this:



No real explanation needed. As one of my friends commented on Facebook, I FINALLY HAVE MERCHNADSIE!

I did get presents off other people, but the low-down on the top gifts includes another great one from Mark...

THIS bag



which is even acer than it looks. For two reasons.

1. It is HUGE, plenty of room for all of my crap
2. It has working speakers to plug in my iPod. Wicked.

Needless to say, Mark did pretty well this year. I wont mention the fact that in his desperation to fill our flat with blu-ray movies he bought me the sequel to The Chronicles of Narnia. Oops I just did.

Truth be told, I simply cannot say a bad word about Mark at the moment because he bought me my camera again. Yep. The one that got stolen. Turns out we weren't covered by our contents insurance out and about (needless to say we've changed this now), so I thought I was going to be camera-less at Chrimble. Then Chicken decided to be amazingly generous and buy me it again. Thanks Chicken!



I took 723 photos over Christmas.

I am really quite annoying with my camera.

I am quite good at pressies myself too, you know. I bought Mark this rather fab Bose speaker thingy to plug his iPod in to, which he loves (and I love too, truth be told).

I also got him a new watch (Fossil) a lovely Penguin t-shirt and scarf, erm... and loads of cool other stuff too. See, I am a good girlfriend sometimes.

Christ. I guess if I had been wearing one side of my new Mark Pawson necklace to write this post it would have been on the 'Things' not 'People' side. I am a horrible person/thing. Must do better.

Things my boyfriend and I have argued about, part 1

The other day at work, Mark and I were talking about how long we had worked at the company.

'I was only 22 when I started here,' I said longingly - I am not at peace with the getting old thing.
'You were,' Mark said, 'I remember 22 year old Sara, so quiet and shy at first. She was such a lovely girl'.

Yep. Thanks for that Mark.

Things that I want, part 8

I can imagine myself sitting on this doing my make-up each morning.

Get one yourself (or for me!) here

Sneak Peak...

Sara Sizzle's Christmas Party Dress (tried it on tonight figuring out how much starvation is needed this week on a scale of one slice of apple a day to fry-up central).




Which leads me nicely in to my song lyric of the day...

"I wish my life was a little less seedy
Why am I always so greedy?
Wish I looked just like Cheryl Tweedy
I know I never will..."

The lovely dovely Lily Allen with Cheryl Tweedy.

I know I never will, but can die trying,

(PS - know that kind of misses the point of the song but... hey!)

Things that I want, part 7

This t-shirt is wicked. Love it.



I know I know, Sara Sizzle is turning in to some sort of weird online shopping list.

So shoot me.

"We don't talk about love...

...we only want to get drunk".

- The Manics, A Design for Life

Song lyric of the day.

Why, oh why, did I drink so much last night at my friend's baby shower?

Why do I do it to myself?

My new years resolution is going to be to drink less. My liver is suffering at the moment.

What? Just trying to get in to the Christmas spirit(s)!

Things that I want, part 6

Just been checking out Asos and stumbled upon this dress. Is now major object of desire.



Speaking of dresses that I NEED.

I really really loved the dress Diana Vickers wore on week 2 of this year's X Factor. It is from Zara but is selling out everywhere. Bah! It is literally the most wicked dress I have seen all year.

Life is a bit tiresome at the moment...

...so am finding it hard (bumper real-life mags or no) to get in to the Chrimble spirit.

Answer? Decorate the tree and dance around to The Pogues. Yay!!

I feel so stressed at the moment I just feel like saying to the world 'I'm past it all now, throw a ten tonne truck at me, I will cope... and smile while you do it'

You know it is nearly Christmas when...

BUMPER issues of my fave Real Life magazines come out. Hmmm, Christmassy. Which tale to read first? The seemingly festive 'I sold my false teeth to buy presents' perhaps? Nah, I fancy 'He sent me a pig's head in the post'. Yay!

TIme to put up the Christmas tree me thinks!

Things that I want, Part 5

Tatty Devine, 50s Glasses Necklace. Ace fab and brill x 12.

In fact, I want everything from here.

Too cool for school. Oooh, extra especially these necklaces too. Mark Pawson is literally ruling. Yes?

"I know you think that I shouldn't still love you...

Or tell you that.
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it
where's the sense in that?"

- Dido, White Flag. Song lyric of the day.

Why?

Diana Vickers got voted off the X Factor last night and my life got 31.56% worse.

I loved her. I mean, I love her.

I knew when she sang White Flag, as amazing as it was, that she would go. Tempting fate.

Just some things that I am loving this week...

Knee-high / over-the-knee socks

Rockin' the Clueless look and remembering being 13. Love it. Someone put on Creep by Radiohead and dye my hair pink.



Little Big Planet.



Quite simply the best game EVER. I want to live in this little Stephen Fry narrated world full-time.

One of the best things about it is that Mark and I can play together in an (almost) non-competitive way. Much better than Mariokart on the Wii which brought out my gaming tourettes to a rather ridiculous extent. It really is best for all of us that I don't drive. The language that comes out of my mouth when I play that game leaves a LOT to be desired. Does always make Mark laugh though...



Poppy talking

Ah. She is so proud of herself whenever she learns a new word. This week we had the joy of hearing her start to say 'Poppy'. She has also started stringing two words together. Usually 'bye-bye' with any other word she knows. So, if a car comes on TV and then goes, we get 'Bye bye car'. We also have hours of fun with her coming in and out of the room. 'Bye-bye Daddy' she says laughing her head off, blowing kisses and waving. I'm not sure where it is she imagines she is going to...



Curly hair and pigtails

Because I get an extra 20 minutes in bed by avoiding the straighteners.

And because it makes me feels 80s.

Things that I want, Part 4

If I was able to afford a new Macbook, and I was able to use this company to make it pink. Or purple. Or BOTH! My life would be 63.24% better. Fact. I need a money making scheme. Anyone got any ideas? Willing to humiliate self over extended period and in any way to get my hands on one of these.

Humpty Dumpty Parenting

I am having issues with sleep. My need for some zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz's is high right now. It is high always, but recently I have been deprived of my Saturday lie-in by my own ridiculous brain.

Once I wake up, I simply cannot get back to sleep. I toss and turn and listen to the chaos erupting in the living room and I think about the dishes and the ironing and the bloody mice that have invaded our flat.

I was so so exhausted last night that I was convinced I would not only have my lie-in today, I was going to savour it. Every minute.

So, at around half past eight when I woke up, I lay there, yes, unable to get back to sleep, but actually quite enjoying just lazing about and daydreaming. This went on for an hour or so. And eventually my eyes started to ever-so-slowly tire. Just as I began drifting in to a dream about, strangely, spreadsheets, I was woken. Fast by this.

"Oh my god, Poppy Poppy Poppppppppy", "Wwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh scream scream piercing scream". I was out of bed in a nano-second to find a pale Mark and a screeching Poppy.

Poor old Pops had fallen down the bottom two stairs and twisted around as she did so, landing on her head. Within seconds an egg shaped bump had appeared on her adorable forehead and Mark had started preemptively apologizing (one of my biggest fears is Poppy falling down the stairs, so I nag Mark almost contantly about making sure he is behind her when she is climbing the stairs).

Poor Poppy. Bless her heart. She was inconsolable for about ten minutes. Finally calming with the offer of a Petit Filous.

It is the hardest part of parenting. Seeing them in a pain or upset and not being able to take it away. I would happily take on a forehead bump a million times the size and permanent if it meant Poppy didn't have to have it. I feel worried sick now. Mark googled 'signs of concussion' as I said 'I remember looking at that page the day she fell off the sofa' (another of Mark's lowest parenting moments when Poppy was about 4 months old, and sat propped up on the sofa. I was in the bedroom, and when Mark appeared I said 'You haven't left Poppy on the sofa have you?' to which he replied 'She'll be fine' just as CRASH BANG WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. He was in trouble that night.)

So, poor old bashed up Pops is currently at Woolworths with her daddy, being bought a guilt-toy. I dread to think what they will come back with. I also dread seeing the big bruised egg in its full glory in a few hours time. Argh. No one tells you how sick it makes you feel when they hurt themselves.

As for Mark, well, it was an accident and he feels so awful I can't punish him any more than he is himself. If, though, he tries one more time to explain in the most mind-numingly accurate detail the angles and circumstances and limb positions of the fall, I will be pushing him down the stairs. And videoing it to post on here. Men eh?

"I'll kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train...

...I'll kiss you all starry eyed my body swingin' from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else...but you"

- The Moldy Peaches, Anyone Else But You

Song lyric of the day

Just because it is literally the sweetest song ever...

I was torn between that line and 'we sure are cute for two ugly people' which is also brilliant.

They aren't ugly though. They are super ace and fab and, yes, cute.

Things that I want, part 3

A FATBOY



Find out more here

Pictures of me Pictures by me Pictures Pictures. Photos I mean...

Life without a camera is getting me down. Every time I think about my camera I feel really sad.

Turns out not covered by our contents insurance and cannot afford to replace it.

To try and cheer myself up I have been sitting editing the last few pics I took.





I am not finding it too easy to blog every day. This week, you see, I have been all over the place. I spent one day in Milton Keynes, another in Stockport. Publishing, I tell you, It is a glamorous old world.

I am still loving my rediscovery of all things Sizzle, though, and plan to have 5 regular features.

1. Photo of the week
2. Poppy story of the week
3. Chicken moment of the week
4. Things that I want
5. Song lyrics of the day

Good huh?

Things that I want, part 2

Giant Mario Plush Action Figure?

The top of my Christmas list.

"At the final moment, I cried...

...I always cry at endings".

- Belle and Sebastian, Get me away from here I'm dying.

Song lyric of the day.

Endings suck.

The ends of books.
The ends of songs.
The ends of films.
The bottom of a bottle of wine.
Saying goodbye.

They all make me cry.

You can observe a lot by just watching

"Your mind is like a live camera that is constantly taking pictures of every single moment that comes onto you... So be a good photographer!"

- David Acuna

Yesterday afternoon we went out for a lovely lunch with our recently wed friends Andrew and Vicky.

Lovely, it was. Roast dinner, a glass of wine, then on to a nice pub for a few, well, cokes (we had a lot to get sorted last night) where they recounted absolutely hilarious tales from their honeymoon in Thailand.

Lovely... until.

Some absolute scum sucking b*&*ard stole my camera bag from under out table. One minute it was there, the next vanished. I have no idea how they managed to do it unnoticed. But they did.

My NEW digital SLR camera. My new best friend. I loved it SO much. I even cried when Chicken gave it to me.

Along with the camera I have lost my cash card, wallet, make-up (so looks like hell this morning at work) and even the charger for our other camera meaning now totally cameraless.

The pub didn't have CCTV. I rang to report it to the police and they took the serial number, but said I shouldn't get my hopes up. Not that I was.

Now frantically trying to get hold of our insurance company, but we only have contents and I don't think we are covered. A lesson there for us all.

I am so upset. I know it is only a 'thing' but it was my favourite thing and I miss it already...

Things that I want, Part 1

USB heated monkey giant slipper? Yes please

A week of feet...

"And your mind gets dirty...

...as you get closer to thirty."

- Blur, End Of A Century.

Song lyric of the day.



True. Oh so very very very true.

Filthy.

I am enjoying being 26.

Kill your blog?

The latest issue of Wired magazine has an article about the death of blogging.

It made me feel nostalgic for my Sizzle. Defy internet trends and carry on regardless.

Since I last blogged I tured 26, got an ace new camera from Chicken, and sat around a lot feeling guilty for not updating the blog.

I have now resolved to blog every day. Even if it is a one minute post with some fleeting thought about broken biscuits.

This is me:



I guess the thing I feel most guilty about is stopping the updates on all the Poppy stuff.

Needless to say she is now a walking, talking, running, shouting, lovely lovely toddler. She looks like this:





Anyway, as I said, one post a day minimum from here on in.

Hold on to your bean bag.

Bye for now

Stress.

I am trying to learn how to deal with stress.

You get woken up at 4.58am having lay awake tossing and turning until 2.53. am.

And it's freezing.

And you can't find Poppy's bottle.

And the milk was left out over night.

Oh fuck it. It'll be fine.

And Poppy is whining until the second the milk is in her mouth.

And it's only 5.00am.

And you make it too hot, so you have to start again.

And the whinning in your ear. 'It's ok Poppy, it won't be a minute'.

The she has it and she is so sweet and she goes back to sleep. But by then you may as well stay up because your alarm goes off at 5.25 anyway.

The nursery run, in the rain. With Poppy's rain cover that has a huge hole in it.

And she is screaming.

Because you forgot Pink Bunny.

And her teeth hurt.

And you ran out of Calpol last night.

Poppy's vacant expression as you leave her eating her breakfast.

Folding up the buggy. Attempting to fold up the buggy.

But their is too much crap in the basket underneath to fold it.

That you haven't got around to sorting out.

Because you're stressed. And tired.

The walk back to the train station. Trying to walk fast but getting stuck behind two smoking and dawdling mums. With double buggys and double chins and, probably, more money than you.

The fury at not being able to cross the stupid road because of all the stupid idiots in their stupid cars.

And the battery on your iPod is flat.

And you forgot your book.

And the Metro hasn't arrived yet. Or has. And is as crap. As CRAP as anything.

Queue for tickets. You are second in line and you train is in three minutes and the t%*t in front of you decides to buy a season tickets and a young person's rail card and seventy three combinations of tickets for future travel.

So you miss your train.

And the next one only had 4 carriages and not 8 so you have to push yourself on and burn up both mentally and physically for the 24.5 minutes of torturous balancing and pole grabbing and listening to idiots in suits talk about nothing. Nothing.

And your ticket wont work on the ticket machine so you have to try and find the man to let you through but he's nowhere to be seen.



And you need some cash but the only cash point charges £1.75 just to get out a tenner. But you need a drink and you only have £1.12 in your purse and the shops around Farringdon charge at least £3.50 for a half litre of water. Because they can.

And the roadworks. Roadworks on the Pavement. And your trying to find your umbrella and use the cashpoint machine and your keys fall out of your bag on to the floor and the person waiting for the machine behind you tuts and you scowl at them or say sorry and then fume silently to yourself.

And a bit of you thinks 'I wish I could just go home' but then you remember that your boiler is broken so you have no hot water or heating and the flat is freezing and you've had a mouse infestation and the flat is a mess so you'd just end up washing or ironing or bleaching everything in sight.

And the office is still locked but you didn't bring that set of keys so you have to go and ask the same director you do every day to borrow his keys. Apologizing. Looking like an idiot.

And this is all before 8.00am.

It, generally, gets worse as the day goes on.

So.

I am off work for a week from today.

And I am having an internet detox.

When I get back, the posts are going to come thick and fast.

I have missed my blog.

Compare People

There's this Facebook application called 'Compare People' which, admitedly, at one time I found completely hilarious.

Who would you rather marry? It asks, flashing up a picture of your boss and your OWN BROTHER for you to decide between.

Ridiculous.

Now, though, I am starting to get a tad (well A LOT) pissed off with the stupid thing. Especially as it has started sending me emails like this:

Sara, here are your strengths and weaknesses, as voted for by your 'friends' (I added the ' ' for humour's sake)

STRENGTHS:

best mother (potential)
prettiest
most helpful
cuddliest

WEAKNESSES:

most talented
craziest


Is it me, or does that make me sound like some sort of little-house-on-the-prairie stay-at-home cuddly MUM type?

And an untalented and totally sane one at that.

Thanks 'friends'.

My 'list'

Chicken and I were out last night and somehow got on to the subject of who would be on our 'lists'.

You know the deal, like in Friends when they all consider what five celebrities would be on their "freebie list"--people they can sleep with without anyone getting upset.

Anyway, to make it official, here are my 5 in all their weird, slightly manky 'what the hell am I thinking' glory. Haha. Chicken wont be too impressed with this post.

Lee Ryan



Yes I know. I should throw myself under the 7.35am from Tulse Hill to Blackfriars. But I can't help it.

He's a bit thick. He's a bit of a minger. He's a complete moron. But I just can't get enough of the 'singer, songwriter, actor, film-maker and former member of the British boy band Blue' (apparently).

Some of my fave Lee gems of wisdom:

5.

“There is something really mysterious about lions. They could rip you apart if they wanted to, but at the same time they look so cuddly. Can you imagine what humans look like to animals? They must think we're so weird.”

Quite Lee, quite.

4.

“If I fancy a girl, I'll tell her. I'll say: 'You're fit.'”

Whoah! Steady on there Lee, you old romantic.

3.

“I'm eccentric, what else? I don't know, I've got two people telling me what to say.”

I know the feeling.

2.

“I try not to sleep with every girl I see, but it's hard!”

You poor poor baby.

1.

“When I was a kid…I liked burning ants with a magnifying glass….but I think that progressed into adulthood where I now believe in aliens.”

And this, my friends, just about says it all. Fancy him? Yes, I do. Why? I have NO IDEA.

OK, you have permission to disembowel me now. It's probably best for all of us.

David 'Ten-Inch' Tennant




Much more understandable is the lovely Doctor. Who couldn't love him?

David counts McDonald's restaurants, astrology, Cliff Richard and the Conservative party among his biggest dislikes. On the other hand, he adores Honeynut Shredded Wheat, Alfred Hitchcock, The West Wing and The Proclaimers.

Kindred spirits? Well no. Not really. But he's on the list. To stay.

Richard E Grant




What can I say? It started with Withnail and I, gained momentum with Jack and Sarah, and didn't even dip with the Spice Girls Movie.

He's Lanky, he's witty, he's posh and is old enough to be my Dad.

Just the way I like um!

Michael Cera




Literally STORMING onto my list is the absolutely lovely Michael Cera. If you haven't seen Juno yet do it. Now. Amazing film, amazing soundtrack, amazing guy. He's a nerd. And nerds, in my opinion, RULE!

Russell Brand



Well, because he's rampant. Obviously.