Tag Archives: EvilRachel

Things to do before you turn 30

Best birthday card of all time? Uh-huh.

What not to write in your impressionable brother’s birthday card:

  

Gareth!!

The day has arrived. Twenty-eight. Big deal. Hope you’re not freaking out.

If not, why not? Only two years left to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, run a marathon, and become a washed-up 1-hit wonder pop sensation.

Sooo… enough with the cliched ’10 things to do before you turn 30’ crap. I’ve written an ‘alternative’ list for you. Much more fun:

The Things to do before you turn 30 to prove to yourself that you’re a worthwhile human being list:

1. Fart loudly in a crowded lift
2. Hi-5 ten random strangers while shouting “Go, Power Rangers, Go!!” a little too enthusiastically
3. Dramatically QUIT your job, storming out with flare, confidence, and the office stapler
4. Grow a moustache
5. Realise that your face does not support adequate ‘tash growth and buy a fake
6. Send your big sister chocolate on a monthly basis
7. Be overcome with moustache-related inadequacy & compulsively buy random moustache-shaped objects in order to compensate for your dwindling sense of self worth

Yup, This actually happened.

Upon receiving this rather questionable advice, my brother ‘mysteriously’ came into the possession of several unconvincing moustache-like items.

I’m still waiting on the chocolate.

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The real me

JosiahSugarRush & Rachel Davies

Moments after the life changing revelation

Star Wars. Vegetables. Early bedtimes.

Unlike the above, ‘dangerous’ isn’t a word often associated with yours truly. However, it is time to come clean: My true self struts through the wilderness of formidable cool. I just hide it well. Really well.

One such outworking of my ‘dark side’ is the habitual, intentional corruption of my friend’s children. Through regular brain washing, it is my aim to get each and every one of them addicted to the greatest drug on earth. Chocolate.

Today has been a roaring success. This evening 10 month-old Josiah tasted his first chocolate flavoured item, baked by yours truly. Upon consuming his first brownie bite he then crawled with desperate vigour towards anything vaguely chocolate-coloured with the crazed frenzy that only a sugar-drunk baby can. For the next carnage-infused hour, he managed to smear ice cream on my dress, knock over a glass of sangria and stick a phone in his mouth. I’ve never been so proud.

Ladies and gentlemen, you are reading the words of a badass.


Small talk

I’m on the flight home from Stockholm (beautiful, but freezing, city) where I’ve spent the weekend getting to know some incredible people who dedicate their lives to combating trafficking and sexual exploitation.  When you meet people for the first time, the same three questions usually come up in conversation:  What is your name?  Where have you come from?  What do you do for a living?

The expected response is one of concise, uncontroversial chitchat.  However, for those of us who work with such somber issues, the opportunity to freak people out for our own amusement is hard to turn down. The old favourites of “I work in prostitution” or “I dabble in a spot of people trafficking” usually do the job.

So I’m sitting here, next to a very polite middle-class couple who I’m considering engaging in conversation.  When the inevitable third question comes up, I could just tell them that I’m a charity worker.  However, I’ve had quite an intense few days and I’m tempted to freak them out a little with one of the classic lines.

Or I could just go for broke and tell them I’m a hired gun.  It’s been a long week.


The illusion of calm

Westminster can be a pretty serious place to pass a lunch hour.  For four years I’ve worked amidst the determined throng:  serious jogging, serious news reporting, serious fast-paced walking westwing-style.  GoodRachel blends into the crowd and marches on, looking like I’m heading to an urgent meeting (with a cheese sandwich, but no one needs to know that.)  However, buried within me is EvilRachel who, despite the outward appearance of sombre calm, secretly just wants to yab people in the face before breaking into a synchronised zombie dance.