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August 29, 2011


After getting into trouble recently for retweeting this: http://youtu.be/Hu_MhgIFDGM which has got to be one of the most horrific things I have ever see – abhorrent to every sense (Forget they cysts – they don’t have floor length dreads) I fear another rebuke for discussing blogging about this movie I watch recently as part of a self help / self therapy program.

Abstinence from blogging should reveal (and then the things I write about when I do) that I have been having bad mood vibes, trouble coping, worrying about losing my place in the world. Unfortunately my usual therapy: hours of back to back CSI, Law and Order and Criminal Minds is not available. And really my problems feel a lot more spiritual – rather than relaxing my mind, I need to know who I am and where I am going. So the other day I was reminded that Javier Bardem, although now a little marred by marrying Penelope Cruz, is one hot mother and set about collecting all the more recent moves he played in to watch.

This is how I came across the movie Eat Pray Love starring Julia Roberts as a writer who has lost her way. And then she does some scenes at the end with Javier Bardem who was so unattractive to me at the point in the movie as my spew button was so firmly pressed I would only be able to barf, not bang.

By the way, I dont think there could be more of a spoiler for this movie, than the movie itself but if you havent watched it yet and are absolutely dying to, I will be discussing the plot in the post. So if I havent turned you off it enough, by saying the movie is really shit, I advise stop reading now.

So Eat Love Pray as I said is the story of a writer who loses her way in her marriage and sets off around the world to discover herself. Funnily enough the original story for this movie was written in a book by an author who had lost her way, was sleeping on the floor of her bathroom and set off to find herself around the work – going to Italy, India and Indonesia. There is a little clue there – I I I. That is to say Julia Roberts, Julia Roberts, Julia Roberts. If you want to see her carrying a yoga mat having spiritual dilemmas this is it. There is a lot of Julia Roberts going on about I I I. As an excuse for breaking up with people, stuffing her face with pasta, getting the shits or photocopying a book in aid of and Indonesian man.

So I watched the whole thing. Watched Julia Roberts pretend to meditate and make a young floor scrubber the person she dedicated her prayers to so she would have a happy marriage after her arrange wedding. I watched Julia Roberts tell another woman that she has no interest in being obese but that we should love our muffin tops. And then my own meditations began. If I was the kind of person who would want to go off to India and meditate would I find this so gut churning? Why am I not the kind of person who is really interested in yoga and meditation when so many other people get so much out of it? What is this feeling in my stomach troubling me? Where does this saddness come from? Some of the stuff in this movie is actually quite nice wisdom? But who is the chump who paid for this movie to be made? I could imagine Tom Cruise sponsoring a movie following his religious persuasion. But isn’t Julia Roberts a scientologist too? What is religion.

So in front of this diabolical movie I wound myself into some profound analytical thinking. By the end of the movie I was crying my eyes out when Julia Roberts told Javier Barden she wouldnt go to the island with him. Is this movie the reason why I wanted to dump Anthony that day? Or was this movie the reason why I decided to snap out of it? It doesnt matter.

On that day, something happened. My mind freed itself from the usual thoughts that get turned over and over like a cement mixer churning sand and concrete.

So where am I going with this post?

I cant even remember myself. A company claiming to be 3 keeps calling me. Today I picked up and they congratulated me on being a good customer and that I would get an upgrade on the phone. Trying to sell me a SAMSUNG. Then I twigged it was a scam when he mentioned something about a new phone and a new number. That number is blocked now. But anyway all that happened in the middle of this.

But probably I mean to say even in total bullshit false smiles and a lot of taking different names of Lords in vain I would say going by Julia Roberts meditations, there is still some essence of truth and beauty. In the same breath I could say that when life is shit, make lemonade. Which I new already, but it is nice to get reminded of it else where every now and then.

On an entirely separate note: Bai Bai Charlie. I hope you are free from all your aches and pains now and have two eyes instead of one. xxx

August 2, 2011


I have been thinking for a long time wondering when the next blog post will come out of me. After a weird time of thinking about what I like and what I dont like in life generally, about who and I am who I dont want to be, (I think mostly triggered by having a nice boyfriend who is super cool and a major dickhead at the same time just like me – you know so I can seriously CHILL OUT about a lot of thing) lots of things stopped (I deleted everything of mine from the lameatnames.com blog for example but Valeria keeps spreading “the word” there) and I just started collecting cook books and talking at length channeling my cat.

Seriously mates, I can see how those crazy cat ladies end up! It is just too easy. There I will be buried under a mountain of bubble wrap from eBay and etsy stinking of piss, Hobart walking all over me and my boyfriend saying “Dont worry dear” and I poo myself yet again.

But before I get to that level, this space in between I think is called still “growing up” or maybe when you are a grown up it is called “maturing”.

Maybe I was a thick kid but I thought you got to a certain age and that was it. You are a grown up. You have finished growing up. But my experience to date is for that not to be the case. In 18 months when I turn 40, will I have stopped all this “teen angst”? No I dont think so. I hope that I dont turn into one of those smug pricks who are in their 40’s writing for a music paper pretending like teen angst is a thing to laugh at though. Cause all those smug pricks who dress like they are teenagers anyway only have one thing on their side real teenagers dont – and that is perspective through having lived more years. Teen angst still sucks. That is why you see so many pictures of 40 somethings on dating websites taken by themselves on their mobile phone in their little bedrooms. Same thing.

What was I saying?

Actually I wasnt saying it yet but I wanted to get round to cooking. Other than my cat and my boyfriend, this is the thing I think about the most. If I didnt have a job, I would have dinner parties every night and cook and cook all day. The Booyah Cook could make a re-appearance. However I am a bit of quandry – if I want to start writing the cooking on the blog, I really dont want people to accidently end up on a picture of my knickers. Or maybe it doesnt matter.

Health report – Hobart puked over a shitty pair of jeans that Ant was trying to throw in the bin but I wanted to keep for painting. I have an itchy thing behind my ear. Are the two related? I doubt it.

June 9, 2011


Amuse Bouche and Verrine – to things you dont see that much of here on the menu but common in France. As common as horrible graphic design in French cook books. Where as we have to put up with  Jamie Olivers mug doing drooly smug grins all over the shop.

Anyway I am having a dinner party next week and without trekking to fucking nowheresville, where can I get yellow beetroot from. Please keep in mind I live in N19 and am allergic to pikey East London. Oh yeah sorry, as if they would have anything like that there.

Here is a good idea for you – macerate [soak in something] nectarines in amaretto. BOOYAH. Best dessert ever.

Oh and if you have a good cocktail idea, please let me know.

And any really fancy recipes that HAPPEN to be vegan. Like Olia’s potatoes with capers.

February 19, 2011


So everyone will have just finished their panicking filling in their SA103 personal tax return forms. This week I have been doing returns for the two most successful quarters ever while trying to arrange a trip to the Choco Cat Cafe in Hong Kong in between interviewing Product Developers who specialise in Bags, Shoes and Leather Accessories and make sure I have some good maps to restaurants and a dim sum menu translated to take with me. Suffice to say mega VAT bill cause so much work. Brilliant.

And yes, were are a little overdue. And our name ends up at the desk where someone calls you from HMRC just to check everything is in order and they can expect payment when?! Usually that is all swell and its all sorted, money paid and I am happy and so is the professional caller at HMRC.


How rude and unprofessional!

I had one boss rip up an envelope because my handwriting wasn’t neat enough by his standards and the stamp wasn’t square. A bit of a nutter yes (he peeled the unused stamp off and glued it onto the new envelope) but his sentiment was completely correct – IF YOU ARE GOING TO ASK FOR MONEY, DO IT NICELY.



Thanks you Mrs Sawinathan.

September 24, 2010


Today on the way to work I had the ultimate pleasure of reading some kind of party vibe gother’s diary with tassley cowboy boots [or was it bag] and stripey leggings and perfect  makeup. I was of course rubber necking over her shoulder as she was re-reading herself in the skull adorned volume filled with scribbly turquoise writing [perhaps a Muji pen].

“Perhaps if I was taking  anti-depressants I would feel better but then I would not be experiencing this pain that keeps me alive. I just want to go on knowing that I am not part of the network.”


In other news, I made the coffees today at work for a change.

July 29, 2010


July 26, 2010



July 3, 2010


Before breaking my  cake dome today, Dora and I shared some spiritual moments.

First she told me that Gyan will be a dead man if he ever returns to Ghana and he needs a body guard now. I asked her “What about Ghana and the football?” and she screeched “What is da meaning of this stupid man crying? Dis stupid man needs to learn to kick a ball.”

Then I was telling Dora some of my personal life problems cause I was away in Nantes and didn’t see her last week. Dora says:

Emma, you are like the little animal that makes the honey. You know, the little one, [a bee?], yes dat one. Emma you are like a bee. You are busy all the time making things, doing things, making things sweet for you and all your friends. Making honey making honey. Emma you are a bee. Sweet sweet sweet. But I told you, don’t trust your friends. Don’t even trust yourself. Your friends don’t want you to change because they like you as the Emma they know. You will find a man and he will hold you safe like and egg. I told you dat one before. But don’t tell ANYONE for a long long time about him because people who will be jealous. I don’t know who dat stupid one is you know – he is a witch for saying those stupid things. Just don’t trust anyone. Not even yourself. You will go out and open your mouth and think “God what did I say that for.” [At this point I didn't try and explain I have a blog, what it is, what kind of news is available on it etc. I think I would have been in a big trouble. Anyway the spiritual advice was progressing to a story about a table and a chair.] This stupid story is like the chair talking about the table. You sit in the chair and you hear it talking about “She is like this, she is like that, she is a thief, she is stupid, she is whatever.” And because you are sitting in the chair, why would bother to ask the table if it is true? Dat one is a proverb.

I got a bit lost but I think I understood.

Then we opened my Twi book and first class started – greetings.

Me: Akwaaba Afua.
Dora: Yaa nua.
Me: Wo ho te sEn?
Dora: Me ho yE.

I can’t write the language properly on the keyboard – the E should be more like a backwards 3.
I have however started to get better and the super nasal noise that you should do in “ho” – a bit like saying the start of the word “horn” really hard and fast.

July 1, 2010


Hi everyone, it is Hobart with my latest “ON THE LEVEL” feature. This week I am going to talk to you about one of the most important things in life: TRUE FRIENDS. I personally don’t have many friends, in fact I can count all my friends on one paw, but the ones I have are good to me. I want to highlight that I don’t hate The Cardinal that much any more after the plushy sushi she brought back from Japan for me. That thing is some seriously good shit and I love to lick it for hours, take a tumble with it, bring it to bed etc. Seriously good shit.

Basically, TRUE FRIENDS give you a good hearty scratch in the morning, make sure you have enough food on the plate, if you have a funny looking thing on you they grab you and check it out even if you dont really want them to touch you because you feel awkward but really they want to make sure you are okay, TRUE FRIENDS DO NO PULL YOUR TAIL, they let you do your thing and love you for it. They mean even let you lick their armpit [well maybe not "let you" is the right word, maybe they are actually asleep and you wake them up that way for example. Which maybe sounds a bit gross but between TRUE FRIENDS this kinds of things can exist in a happy friendship.]

My good friend Dora tells me that A FRIEND CAN BE A VERY DANGEROUS THING. I agree with her. Sometimes people close to you can really fuck you up – brush your fur the wrong way [uggghh] for example. This is seriously not a spiritual way to be.

My advice is, if you have anyone in your life that is not a TRUE FRIEND, just cut them loose. They aren’t even worth pissing on if they are burning.

There are too many cushions in the sunshine to spend time with than fuck about with people who don’t care if you live or die.

June 13, 2010


A new feature by Hobart the cat.

i have brothers and sister i dont remember, a father i dont even know. probably if i met any of them again – or even my mother – we would be a tumble weed across the floor or two cats bodies intent on maiming. in a honest and direct sense. no subtefuge or pretending we are too grown up to get involved in silly games. a cats life is far more simple: you piss me off, i will fight you. i dont care who you are. and, on the whole – who cares? not me and you shouldn’t either.
the important important in life are:
  1. where does the food come from?
  2. where can i sleep?
  3. where can i shit without getting my face rubbed in it?
i dont know how many times i have heard people through the glass looking at me saying “oh how i wish i was a cat. life is so simple.”
let me tell you: “yerrr mate. life is really simple. AND I CAN LICK MY BUM.” how much more straight forward and simple do you want it? have i got a dirty bum? hang on  - let me take a look? ah no, i’m clean. you go ferret around with your wet toilet paper and still trouble yourself for a clean wipe and get skid marks.
as a cat, it is really simple. you may think you are all pretty cool being able to do stuff like wear sexy underwear, get hair cuts, read books etc. but my advice is just follow the dream – look for the sunshine and lie in it. that is all you need to do.

January 27, 2010


One day I will bother explaining the ins and out of what it has been like living with Bipolar Mood Affective Disorder [aka Manic Depression that most people use - albeit incorrectly] but frankly it is a drag and a drain IRL so never really feel like blowing the trumpet online. But today as a absolute forced activity to get myself off the sofa I decided to work on my cake invention recipe and perfect it in the aim of sharing it with all of you. I can say categorically that cake eating Hayley at work has nominated this her favourite. She can elucidate her thoughts on every cake I every made and everything that goes into her mouth infinitum so truss, yeah. She knows.

So after today’s success I feel confident to announce The Booyah Cook has achieved some earth bound status – NOW KNOW AS GODDESS!!

Since then I have been with Sean Combs on a jet ski in Miami, making it rain up and down the strip in LA, my life is like a movie but if it looks like I’m having more fun than you then sue me. ETC.

In concept is my favourite bits from different kinds of cakes: super moist vanilla sponge, fresh fruit, clafoutis-esque, lasts a long time. I have tried both a cherry one and a blackberry one. I think it will work with anything like mulberries, figs, fresh apricots or peaches, nectarines – strawberries would taste good but they would look rank.


1] Grease a 9 inch / 23 cm (ideal size for BDL’s) circular cake tin and dust it with flour. It has to be a loose bottomed or spring loaded tin or when you get the cake out all the fruit is gonna mush up.

2] Preheat the oven to about 180 degrees C / 350 degrees F

I would like to say “freestyle freestyle” but the science of silkience will not adjust [remember that ad or is it just Australian? Mrs G?] when it comes to baking cakes. If a recipe recommends a particular tin at certain temperature, and you change either of those things it will impact on your recipe. Maybe even instant fail you.

3] With electric beaters cream together 120g butter and 120g castor sugar.
If you never made a cake before, this means mix the two together until the colour changes to a lighter shade and smooths into a paste and isnt all crumbly sugar and icing any more. Can take anything between 5 – 8 minutes.

4] Add two eggs. Get on the beating again. Mix until the colour changes again. It will end up pretty pale. Takes about 5-6 mins after adding the egg.

5] Add 240 grams of plain flour and 1 teaspoon of baking powder. Mix it in with a spoon or spatula. Don’t using the electric beaters now. The beaters will over work the flour and make it “tough” and you will end up with a loaf of flat bread. When you have mixed in all the flour, you will have a kind of doughy looking mixture though.

6] Mix in 6 drops of vanilla essence and 200 mls of creme fraiche with the spoon. It is still gonna be a doughy looking mixture. If you think it is too dry, add 10 mls of milk / water / alcohol whatever but not more.

7] Tip the mixture in the tin and spread it with the back of the spoon to the edges. Doesn’t have to be smooth, just kind of level.

8] Cover the top with whatever fruit you want. You are going to bake your cake for a fairly long time. So don’t put anything too small on it and the cake needs to rise underneath the weight of the fruit so make small slices of peaches or whatever. Try the blackberries first though. Awesome!

9]Put the cake in the oven for 40 minutes. It will most likely have to go in again. Everyone’s oven is different so maybe 40 minutes will be enough. Test like this: Use a skewer and prick the cake right to the bottom in the centre of the cake. If the skewer comes out clean, then the cake should be done. If there is any goo, put it in for another 15 minutes.

If the middle is gooey but the top has turned brown, turn your oven down 10-20 degrees before shoving the cake back in for the second go in the oven.

10] Leave the cake too cool a bit in the tin before turning it out. Then leave it on a rack to cook completely before you dust it with icing sugar you sprinkle on through a sieve.


The end.


The icing sugar will eventually dissolve into the cake after a while with the moisture. It isn’t even really important to put it on there. Whatever you want!


xx Lektrogirl

December 5, 2009


And no I don’t mean the Champagne bar in Chelsea.

So, The Cardinal gave me the fabulous book Nollywood by Pieter Hugo. I love all the pictures of the women and witches and demons. I know how they all feel! Redwine and peanut sick dreadlock anyone?

SATURDAY! I spent quite a while reading other birthday presents from last week scoffing nougat and waiting for my cleaner to be 2.5 hours late which is long, even by her standards. I did call her to find out what was up and she was having a fight with her flatmates who all had electric heaters in their rooms and not admitting it so she was paying more than her share of electricity. The landlord came for a big meeting so big trouble in little Ghana.

Through the course of the day, I decided the best use for my completely luxurious and useless new Luella notebook calf skin bound and embossed with a mushroom, would be to jot down some of Dora’s comments about life. And today I was laughing with tears in my eyes about Elizabeth the other white clear she knew that was so fat she has no shape and so she told her and Elizabeth complained to the supervisor but no-one cared, the old lady who had a stroke and the Jamaican threw away her walking frame and how Jews [the חסיד ones] wear shoes that are so bad that if you throw one, not even a dog would touch it.

xx Lektrogirl


And it is a shame when everyone else finds out about it…

xx Lektrogirl

November 10, 2009


Sorry about that – I’ve have been off the radar!

But, I went to a big gay sweatbox on the weekend with some friends and found myself in the middle of the dancefloor after giving birth to Ed Hardy next to a guy in an Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt and three girls with a bottle of poppers. Spiritual moment of Mare Street and I find myself reborn.

The old me was in a terrible shape. I was a caterpillar of duvet and Namelesses old hoodie he got from the guy who ended up sleeping with his ex even though he said “Bros before hoes”. I was watching endless cop shows nourished by cups of tea and phonecalls from my lady friends who wanted to see me through a dark patch.

The Italian, after coming over on Friday night and leaving me with a kiss and a see you later love and feeling all happy in my stomach, sent me a text on Tuesday saying “I don’t need a new job, a girlfriend and friends take months even years. Please do me a favour and give me a break.”

  • He was calling me asking me how to teach him something.
  • I had already told him twice “I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now” [meaning HIM in particular but hanging out and being friends with him was super fun, though he didn't know that directly.]
  • And I have known this guy for about 2 years.

Then AIR PIE from him for the whole week after trying to find out WTF that was all about!

My cleaner Dora settled me down to a few home truths:

  • You dress like an African woman.
  • God took this man out of your life because you have everything – a house, a job, a computer, the internet, money, your things, friends, you are a nice person – and all you need is someone to love and care for you. He is too stupid to even do that so God took him out of your life.
  • You need to have more fun. Look at your friends [meaning The Cardinal cause she goes round there too.] She always is having fun. I see all the wine glasses. You need to have fun.
  • The man you are looking for is out there searching for you.

Then the two coolest people in Paris arrived.

Hobart unfortunately turned into a shit machine all weekend. Unbelievable.

xx Lektrogirl

September 28, 2009


I sat next to a girl dinner last night and she has had sex with a women. I
asked her what it is like to eat a girl out. She told me that after getting
over how gross it is, it is much easier than giving a guy a blow job. She
said that basically with a girl, it is like having a giant smooch for a
while. Where is with a guy it can be be really hard work and become really
mechanical and monotonous. Interesting! Can’t say though that I’m gonna try
it out any time soon. The only pussy I wanna get near is Hobart and her cute
little face.

xx Lektrogirl

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