So we all know that I’m a penniless actress, that is absolutely no secret. I don’t have a pot to piss in and I work pretty much 7 days a week. Like I’m super confused that I have no idea where my money goes and I can assure you I’m not having drink at the Shard every night. Okay so this isn’t a post where I’m going to tell you 10 top tips on how to save your money but if any of you can tell ME 10 top tips on how to save MY money I’d bloody love that! I’m sure Tip 1 would be don’t live in London. Lets all just take a minute silence for me to wallow in my own self-pity.
(Also I hate that I can never spell ‘minute’bloody dyslexic)
This blog should really be called ‘A very good Complainer’ honestly though I live in this beautiful city with something to do 24/7 I honestly think if I had all the money in the world I could spend a few HUNDRED-thousand in a few seconds.
I have champagne taste on a tap water budget. Is it twisted that sometimes I like to pretend that I’m rich? Like I actually go out of my way to pretend I’m rich. Seriously wait! Hear me out!
I’ve always thought it’s so fucked up when you see celebrities who have shit tones of money getting free stuff sent to them all the time. I mean that’s great. Congrats. I’m sure you really, really couldn’t afford that benefit mascara, that Chanel bag and that trip to Bali in a 5* resort. High five. Insert GIF here >
I’m over here working 4 jobs, amounting to nothing, not an audition in sight so why the bloody hell are you not giving free stuff to people like me? Who actually bloody need it? Who would actually fucking appreciate it?
So back to pretending I’m rich.
I was walking around (a well known department store) looking at all the perfumes /spraying myself with all of them to make my sad, sorry little life seem a bit better, and this shop assistant came over to me and asked me if I needed any help…. I found myself speaking in this frightfully posh accent. “Yes, you see one is just looking for one’s Christmas present!” A confused expression came across my face. That’s it you’ve done it! You’ve cracked! You’ve actually gone fucking mental!. “One is not just looking for one’s self, one is looking for all my family” The poor bloody guy actually took me seriously, he had no clue that I am this loopy Welsh girl, whose vommed on the streets of Cardiff after a night out one too many times.
He showed me all the perfume taking me around one by one, clinging on to the hope that I was going to make his day and buy one of EVERYTHING. The lie was getting more extravagant. My accent was getting more high-pitched less ‘Dowton Abbey’ upstairs and more ‘The Crown’. The rest of the shop assistant’s ears perked up, they were fluttering around me like flies on shit. I was demanding they show me gift sets, talking about ‘When daddy gets back from Cannes’, Talking about my pretend pony Flash! My point is they were spritzing me, fanning me, laughing at my pathetic jokes showering me with free samples. Freeeeeee Samples.
It was like keeping it up with the Kardashians minus the sex tape.
Ladies and Gentlemen. Maybe I’m not that mentally unhinged. Maybe, just Maybe pretending you’re really wealthy is the pick me up one needs on the weekly.
Next stop Tiffanys.
A very good Waitress