Pizza Union

I'm a bit of a pizza snob. Or maybe just a food snob in general. Pizza Hut, Domino's and Pizza Express don't really do it for me anymore. I've wanted to go to Pizza Union for a while cause I've seen a few Instagram posts on it here and there. I think it's only been around in London for about two years, so you could say it's relatively new.

They don't have any waiters there. My boujee arse stood there for a couple minutes waiting to be seated, till I realised there was no one coming. You go up, order, pay, get one of those red vibrating buzzer thingies and then sit wherever you want to. When the buzzer goes off you go and collect your pizza. Simple tings.

Look at the prices please. I didn't take a picture of the salad prices cause who goes to a pizza place and orders a salad?

The place is dirt cheap. I'll be honest, looking at the prices I didn't think the pizza would be as good as it was.



It's Roman style thin, fire-baked in a huge domed stone oven. It was ready in about four minutes. I got the Calabria but swapped the nduja spicy sausage for pepperoni. Cause I'm a pussy.



I literally just ordered the dessert so I could take a picture of it. I managed one bite.



I cut it in the middle and expected the chocolate to ooze out so I could take an artistic picture. I failed. The dessert was a bit dead to be honest. The dough was too hard and there wasn't enough Nutella in it. I found out after that they did ice cream but if I ate anything else I would've struggled to walk home.

In my opinion, the pizza here doesn't beat the salami, rocket and parmesan pizza at Homeslice. That still holds the number one spot. But I'd give this place an eight out of ten. The pizza was really good.

(Now that I've started doing this, you guys are going to realise how much I go out to eat. Please don't judge me. I don't shit out all my money I promise.)

Valentine's Day At Hawksmoor

Pretttyyyyy

I like trying out new restaurants and I eat out quite a bit, so thought to blog about the places I go. Yes, I'm running out of things to talk about. I'm not much of a reviewer so I'll just stick some pictures in. If you like the look of it you can give the place a visit.

I got taken out to Hawksmoor for Valentine's Day and I really had high hopes for it. And to be honest, it was pretty average. My friend tells me my expectations for restaurants are really high and nothing is good enough, so my average actually means it's great. I don't know, you can go and see for yourself.

If you do go, I recommend getting their 'favourite cuts'. Proof is in the name really, but they only had 600 grams and up left and that's a bit too much for me. I wanted to try the Porterhouse steak but they'd run out so I got the Sirloin. I think that's where I went wrong?

I like my steak medium. No blood, please.

My date got the grass fed chicken and it was basically a flat chicken breast with crispy skin thrown over it. It looked crap. I didn't even ask to try some. He originally wanted to get the beef short-ribs but they'd run out of that too.



Sorry I don't mean to be a negative Nancy but who the fuck enjoys bone marrow?! Imagine gooey, oily, melt in your mouth fat. When my dad makes me lamb shank, I suck the bone marrow out of that and it's delicious so I thought it would be the same. It wasn't. Not even close.

The triple cooked chips were okay. Not as good as Flat Iron's cooked chips though.

Okay fine they were good. I need to stop comparing.

The macaroni cheese was nice though. Hurrah. I didn't even order that but I stole some off him. The waitress said there's blue cheese in it so I thought I wouldn't like it, but it wasn't overpowering at all. Just a slight hint.



The best part of the meal were the cocktails and the free salted caramel chocolates the waitress gave us at the end. The bartender by the way, was a cocktail God. He asked me what alcohol I liked and he made me something that wasn't on the menu. If you go there and you like Tequila, order a Grapefruit Picador. Even if you don't like grapefruit (cause I don't). Trust me on this. It was beautiful.

I'd say Hawksmoor has nothing on Gaucho. You can't beat Argentinian steak, in my opinion. The menu is much bigger, the restaurants are lush (I went to the one in Tower Bridge and the view was really nice) and the prices are around the same. Although Gaucho does have pricier options.

Maybe one day I'll go back to Hawksmoor and try one of their favourite cuts, but for now it's getting a 6 out of 10 from me.

And I know, I need to get better at taking pictures. I'm trying man. Gosh.

The Blame Game

When I was in primary school, one of the mums always picked me up with her daughter and took me back to hers till my mum finished work. My mum worked a nine to five so she wasn't able to make it. One time when I was around seven years old, my dad promised me he would pick me up from school. I was really excited, he had never picked me up before.

It was 3:15pm and it was time to go home. I stood in the playground looking for my dad. My mums friend came up to me and ushered me to go with her. 

I shook my head, "my dads picking me up today".

She tried to take my arm, insisting that I go with her because my mum hadn't mentioned anything about my dad coming. But I stood my ground and yanked my arm away, told her that I'm not going to go with her. My dad was definitely coming today.

I waited an hour in that school. He never turned up. In the end my mum had to leave work early and come to pick me up.

That wasn't the first time my dad let me down. Or the second. Or the third. I used to stay with him on weekends and every Monday I used to miss school because he couldn't be bothered to drop me off. Sometimes he used to get pissed drunk and drive at full speed, telling me to smile for the camera when the speed cameras flashed him. I used to close my eyes and pray that I made it home alive. Fast forward 16 years later when I had surgery, my dad didn't call me to check if I was okay, or if I needed anything. "It's not like you were having an open heart surgery" he said, when I asked him why he never called. 

When I was younger I never used to understand why my mum divorced him. He was perfect in my eyes. Because rejection breeds obsession, not that my dad rejected me but I didn't get the level of love I wanted. So I wanted it even more. I used to cry and beg for my mum to take him back, I thought she was heartless. But she stayed calm and stroked my hair, told me one day I would understand. 

And I do. 

You see, my father is a careless man. He's a liar. He has broken every promise he's ever made. He lives for today and never thinks about tomorrow. Instead of telling me he loves me, he throws money at me and tells me to buy myself something nice.

But regardless of his behaviour, I love my dad. He's a good man with a kind heart, and I know he loves me too. He just doesn't know how to show it. I blamed him for so much of my life, and I blamed him for some of the characteristics I picked up from him. But I never blamed him for being the one man that I could love. I never blamed him for being the greatest source of love that I know. 

When you blame people for things, have a think about all the things you blame them for, and blame them with much more power. Cause if you're going to blame people for all the shit and the bad that they've done, you better blame them for all the good too. If you're going to give them credit for everything that's fucked up, then you have to give them credit for everything that's great. 

I'm not asking you to stop blaming them. And if you blame me for things, I'm not asking you to stop blaming me. Blame me all you like. But blame me adequately, blame me wisely, blame me judiciously. Blame me with your heart and your soul, not just with your head. Give me all the credit, not just the credit you feel comfortable giving.

If my father had been the man I had wanted, maybe I wouldn't be the person I am now. Maybe I wouldn't have made the mistakes I made. Maybe I wouldn't have learnt the lessons I learned. Maybe I would've turned out completely different.

And you know what? It's lamentable imagining myself be someone other than who I am now. Because those mistakes sculpted me and those lessons helped me grow. From now on if you're going to blame someone, blame them for it all. You wouldn't be the person you are today without them.

So thanks Dad, I owe you one.

We've Synced Our Menstrual Cycle

And we're having a party!



Hey guys! Me and my friend are having an ovulation party this weekend, and you're invited. We have finally synced our menstrual cycle, without even trying! This truly shows how real our friendship is. If this isn't a cause for celebration then I don't know what is.

Due to this realisation of true friendship, we've had to kick everyone else out the group chat. They're obviously not true friends. Otherwise you know, our menstrual cycles would've synced by now. You girls are still invited to the party though, you just can't sit with us. I'm sorry, blame your female reproductive system.

When a female chimpanzee is in heat, her bottom swells up like a balloon and turns bright pink. The signs with us female humans are not so obvious. However, science does state that we become more alluring during our menstrual cycle and our body odour more attractive. This is great news for my friend since she has an offensive smell most of the time. Even greater news for me because I will be more enticing than ever. Feel free to give us compliments on our glowing skin and silky hair on the night.

On the menu this weekend we will have hard boiled eggs, soft boiled eggs, overdone scrambled eggs, runny scrambled eggs, just right scrambled eggs, sunny side up eggs, poached eggs, deviled eggs, baked eggs, and even our own eggs. For drinks we have eggnog and Pink Lady. You are forbidden to eat anything else other than eggs. If you're allergic to eggs or you simply don't like them, please do not turn up to our party. You have been uninvited. You're obviously against women empowerment and we don't need that kind of negativity.

Men are welcome to come to our menstrual party, but you're not allowed to touch us. You're here to give compliments and compliments only, keep your hands to yourself. Adulation every fifteen minutes is a must. There's a lot to admire: hair, skin, smell, nails. If you run out of things to say then you have proved to be an underachiever and a definite derelict. We've had enough disappointment with the male species, you will be asked to leave the party.

If you're a female and it is also your time of the month, please refrain from turning up. This is our party not yours. You will not steal our limelight. It's our time to shine!

See you guys there :)