Fresh Out Of Jail Chris Brown Spotted Throwing Up Gang Signs

Fresh out of jail Chris Brown has made headlines once again, for all the wrong reasons. He was spotted at the BET after party celebrating his new found freedom and his reunion with the stage whilst throwing Bloods gang signs for all to see. 

Not one for subtlety, he also gave a verbal shout out to The Fruit Town Piro in Los Angeles. As well as getting so wasted he had to be carried out of one party over his weekend in LA.

Chris Brown Gang Signs

Considering he’s only just got out of lockup, anyone would think Chris would be on his best behavior, but to no one’s surprise he’s back to causing havoc and unfortunately for Chris, TMZ were there to catch the whole thing on video:

Of course this isn’t the first time that the 25 year old has been linked to the Bloods gang. He first became affiliated after he tagged the words Fruit Piru on a spray painting in Hawaii this time last year.

Spray painting hawaii 2013 chris brown gang links

In fact, it was even rumored that before he went to jail, several Fruits Piru gang members lived with him. It must be déjà vu because one year later, Chris is raising eyebrows once more as he has clearly failed to eliminate gang influences from his life.

How he became involved with the gang is yet unknown, but it seems that Chris is just a magnet for trouble and once again his bad behavior has warranted more news reports than his talent. We can only assume that the excitement from performing his hit song, “Loyal” at the BET awards on June 29th, caused the singer to forget the small matter of him still being on probation.

Is Chris setting himself up for more trouble? We would argue that yes, yes he is.

The post Fresh Out Of Jail Chris Brown Spotted Throwing Up Gang Signs appeared first on Xclusive Touch.

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Restaurant Review: Gyms Kitchen

Oat and Protein Pancakes

Oat and Protein Pancakes

Cuisine: Protein Based, Healthy Living Cuisine
Location: Gants Hill (Alternate locations also available)

Food: ?????
Atmosphere: ?????
Setting: ?????
Service: ?????

Gyms Kitchen is the UK’s first protein based restaurant, which in layman’s terms means they note the protein content and calories content of each dish on the menu. The menu, incidentally is based on a high protein healthy diet, so if it’s a burger and large fries you’re after, you’ve come to the wrong place.

This being said, with bikini season approaching, I find more of us are having to part with our beloved take-away menus and replace the poppadoms with push-ups. So if ever there was a time to seek out an eatery for healthy living, the lead up to summer would be it.

Anyone who has been attempting clean and healthy eating will have discovered one of two things: being healthy is actually quite expensive and finding something diet-appropriate on a menu is harder than one thinks.

Marinated lamb cubes

Marinated lamb cubes

Queue: Gyms Kitchen. Gym go-ers heaven.

The menu is essentially perfect for those who are training or trying to lose weight. But it’s not so much focused on calories as it is health and nutrition. There are a variety of grilled meat’s and vegetables, protein shakes, smoothies and healthy breakfast and brunch alternatives for those looking for something a little lighter.

As a self confessed pancake lover, they were on the top of my must-try list and I’m glad to report that they did not disappoint. Made with egg whites, oats, protein powder and optional blueberries, they hit every spot, without even a glimpse of food-guilt.

The service was impeccable, our waitress was friendly, helpful and even encouraged us to try the large variety of frozen yogurt flavors before ordering the one we wanted. The table was cleaned at least three times during our meal and despite the restaurant being busy, we were never left waiting.

The menu offered a huge variety of foods, to suit all nutritional goals, be that a post gym snack or simply an afternoon lunch with friends that doesn’t break the diet. The food itself is fresh, well marinated and full of flavor; the fact it was healthy is an added bonus and not the main attraction.

Don’t let the name fool you, whilst Gyms Kitchen is a haven for those on a guilt-free food mission, the menu has something for everyone and varies from the simplest dishes (peanut butter on toast) to tuna steaks and king prawns.

In summary: fast, affordable and not shy with their serving’s of peanut butter (which on its own earns them an extra star). Will I be purchasing myself a Gyms Kitchen t-shirt any time soon, no. Will I be visiting again, oh most definitely, every tasty bite was well worth the 30 minute drive it took me to get there.


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Restaurant Review: Kings Road Steakhouse & Grill

Marco Pierre White Kings Road Steakhouse Chelsea

House cut steak, triple cooked chips and salad

Cuisine: Steakhouse
Location: Chelsea

Food: ?????
Atmosphere: ?????
Setting: ?????
Service: ?????

With Marco Pierre White’s name above the door, I expected great things (or at the very least great steak). Kings Road Steakhouse & Grill is situated in the chic Chelsea neighborhood and the restaurant promises a classy night out.

The decor can only be descried as clean and plain; it features white walls, white table cloths, white chairs and plenty of mirrors. Individual table lamps and a large chandelier add some modern touches to the otherwise classic surroundings.

Kings Road Steak house

Kings Road Steakhouse Cosmopolitan

Courses came out quickly and the waiters were charming enough; as for the food itself, it was pleasant if not slightly unremarkable. The soup of the day was caramelized onion soup which was creamy and tasty but was lacking any accompanying bread, which would have been a nice if not entirely necessary addition to the starter.

The pièce de résistance, the much awaited steak came with a choice of sauces and for those who like their steaks bloody, I am sure you would have found the cut masterfully cooked. For me, it was underdone, I ordered medium but received a rare steak. This being said, the steak itself was tender, flavorful and juicy.

Sticky Toffee Pudding Marco Pierre White Steakhouse

Sticky Toffee Pudding

The couple on the table next to us also felt their steaks had been under cooked and their medium steak were sent back only half eaten.

At this point I should add that the tables are packed quite closely together and whether you like it or not, a dinner for two becomes a dinner for six (you, and the couples either side of you).

The desert, accompanied by an ice-cold Cosmopolitan slipped down nicely and may well have been the best of the three courses.

The Kings Road Steakhouse offers various online deals to dine in for two which most of the patrons in the restaurant had pre-purchased (as they were eating from the same fixed menu that I was).

Whilst the fixed menu is somewhat limited (and requires you to pay extra for sides and certain cuts of steak) it made an otherwise expensive meal quite reasonable.

Marco Pierre White’s Kings Road Steakhouse & Grill is pleasant enough if it’s a quiet meal you’re after, however as restaurants go I wouldn’t consider this one a core shaker.


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Restaurant Review: Byron Burger

The Byron Burger

The Byron Burger

Cuisine: Burger Bar
Location: Various

Food: ?????
Atmosphere: ?????
Setting: ?????
Service: ?????

My experience at Bryon Burger is the definition of a ‘beautiful accident’. ‘Accident’ because after waiting an hour for a table at another eatery, I sought out a restaurant that would be kind enough to seat three hungry girls on a Friday night, without a reservation.

The restaurant itself is nothing to look at, I can only describe the interior as simple like it’s menu. Byron Burger’s philosophy is “do one thing and do it properly” so if it’s variety you’re after, go elsewhere. If burger’s are your food of choice however, I’d say you’ve come to the right place.

Mac & Cheese and Skinny Fries

Mac & Cheese and Skinny Fries

As a meat enthusiast, when it comes to burgers I border on obsessive. Whilst I’m un-moving on my requirements, they are pretty simple: good quality meat, perfectly seasoned and cooked to perfection (which they were, the burgers at Byron are served medium unless requested otherwise).

The patties are juicy and flavorful, the buns are soft and the mac & cheese was not far off perfect. In fact it’s no wonder that over the last years several new branches have sprung up around town, after all, where the food is good the people will follow.

When it comes to burgers in London, finding a place to eat isn’t hard. Finding a restaurant that will serve you a “proper burger” is another matter altogether, however as long as you’re happy with your gherkin on the side of your burger and not in it… then if you ask me, Byron’s have all the fundamentals right.

The skinny fries were nothing to write home about but the courgette fries and proper olives are on the money. The price is reasonable, the staff were attentive but most importantly, their meat is definitely worth hopping a train into town for.


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Restaurant Review: Mojo’s Kitchen

Mojo's Fruity Pancakes

Mojo’s Fruity Pancakes

Cuisine: Various
Location: Ashfield Parade, Southgate, London

Food: ?????
Atmosphere: ?????
Setting: ?????
Service: ?????

Once known as Choccocino’s, the newly opened Mojo’s Kitchen is very much a case of: new owners, new name, new menu.

I can only describe their style of food as “a little bit of everything”. Whatever you fancy, they’ve probably got it; their menu varies from breakfast to burgers, fish cakes and ribs. Whilst the menu sounds a bit messy, for a food lover who appreciates a bit of variety, it makes perfect sense.

Mojo's Breakfast

Mojo’s Breakfast

Whilst Mojo’s menu runs all the way from breakfast to dinner, I would offer them a delicious crown of honor as the perfect place to brunch. There’s nothing overly fancy about Mojo’s, the interior is simple, clean and even has an outdoor area with tables and chairs where you can enjoy a cup of tea in the sunshine (if ever we see any that is).

Their breakfast pancakes are especially good and they seem all too happy to appease fussy customers by substituting a bit of this for a bit of that. Most importantly they’ve got their proportions the right way round – large portions, small price tag.

Not to mention that the end of our meal was greeted with both the bill and a follow on Twitter and let’s face it, it’s always nice to come as customers and leave as friends.


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Sold My Soul To The Devil For A Job.

As of 2006, ambitious women the world over watched as a Meryl Streep type Anna Wintour invaded their screens, reminding them that a modern day love story, can be just as much about a job as it can be about a man.

Girls are no longer raised to polish oven doors, we’re here to work. Don’t get me wrong, I know my way around a turkey baster as well as the next Nigella Lawson, but I was brought up knowing I had to work, and since statistically we spend 99,117 hours of our lives doing just that, I figured I might as well get the job that I want. Unfortunately for me, so did everyone else.

Everyone seems to be looking for a job, yet no one seems to know what wins in the battle between industry experience and education. Take it from me, who has tried both, having the right contacts wins hands down every time. Instead of complaining about it, you just accept the hierarchy of the working world, and start from the bottom. The bottom of course, being unpaid.

The chances are life will throw you a lifeline eventually, even if it is a minimum wage one. You take it of course, because let’s face it, a few thousand a year, is better than no thousand at all.

Before you disagree with me, I must admit it’s not just the career aspect of ’The Devil Wears Prada’ that caught my interest. It’s was the Chanel. And the Prada of course. Definitely the Prada. I need shoes, and not just for my own vanity, no, I need them to make a good impression on that next job interview, waiting just around the corner.

Also if like myself, being able to afford to move out before the age of forty seems an appealing prospect, you must embrace the jobs which pay badly, just as much as the ones which pay well.

As for my soul. That was sold a long time ago. I could blame the companies which take us in under their umbrella, fully qualified, yet working for free. One volunteer after the other, all of them getting the job done, not one asking for a penny, because having the experience on the CV is payment enough.

I could even blame the boss, who pays you too little despite demanding so much. Yes, he definitely deserves a mention.

Not because they are the reason I will soon be purchasing from the very charity shops I once donated to. Or for the lines around my eyes which no Sainsbury’s bought home facial can seem to eradicate. But because they gave me the first taste of what success could taste like, and I kind of liked it.


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Fortune, Fate or Just Dumb Luck?

Make a choice, change your life. I dare you.

I have been advised by my daily horoscope to take a break. Not that I needed an Oracle to tell me that. And not that I much believe in Star Signs either, but due to a complete lack of any personal wisdom I thought I’d seek outside help.

I’ve never been a believer in fate, I think we make our own decisions, and the relevant outcomes are ones we inadvertently chose. That being said, I’ve been hoping that perhaps (for maybe the first time ever) I might be wrong.

If someone could convince me that everything happens for a reason, then I wouldn’t have to worry so much, about all the choices I have miscalculated. Wouldn’t it be nice, if instead of regretting the things which go wrong, we can just assume that if they were meant to be, they would.

I’d definitely sleep better at night if I could just conclude that things happen because they’re meant to, and I have no actual control, just the illusion of it. Because the alternative, that things aren’t all tied up in fate, and that we make our own luck, involves a lot more bravery than I think I can summon. If life is, as I had originally thought, unplanned, unscripted and just plain messy, then every tiny thing you or I do, effects the way we’ll end up.

Think about it.

Leaving 2 minutes later for work, can be the difference between a collision, and a morning spent listening to mediocre breakfast music. Smoking that cigarette can be the difference between living till 40 and living till 85. Applying for that job might be the line between survival and success. Going to this bar instead of that one is the difference between meeting someone, and never even knowing they existed. And telling someone how you feel could be the difference between being happy, and not.

If this doesn’t scare you, then maybe you could share some insight, because it sure as hell scares me.


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Not Quite Resolutions

Image From http://therichkidwannabe.blogspot.com/2011/01/resolutions-for-new-year.htmlI’ve never much believed in New Years Resolutions, mainly because the turning of the year is no more likely to get me on a treadmill than bikini season or my gym instructor’s scornful “I haven’t seen you here in months” eyes. So just to be clear these are not resolutions. It’s two weeks into 2012, so we can agree that I’ve definitely missed the resolution making portion of the year.

These are not so much ways to improve myself, and lets face it why would I want to (don’t answer that) but instead, more ways to ensure I don’t reach 2013 without a single thing to show for myself aside from that increasing Jack Daniels dependency. And shoes, far, far too many shoes.

1. Get a job, one which pays more than the most minimum of wages. As much as I love my mum, I can’t spend the next 27 years living at home, which incidentally is how long it would take me to put a deposit on the very shittiest of flats with my current salary.

2. Sky dive, or bungee jump, or take up aerobatic flying lessons or pretty much anything in this general category that is guaranteed to make me pee my pants a little bit. You’re never going to be amazed in life, unless you do some things, which are a little bit amazing.

3. Succeed in getting George Michaels “Faith” out of my head. It’s been stuck there for approximately 3 years, and whilst before it was bad, now it also comes with the accompanying dance moves compliments of J.D. No not the liquor, the character, in Scrubs.

4. Visit a county, where the rain is warm. Or perhaps before I get ahead of myself, I should aim to visit a country which is not Cypriot, Greek, Greek-Cypriot or any other variation which results in me eating Feta in the village tavern owned by Stelios.

5. Slow dance. Not jokingly. Not with my God-sister while drunk. Not with my dog (who for the record does an excellent Waltz) and not with my fingers on the steering wheel whilst bored in traffic.

The list could go on. A result of a very unproductive 2011 no doubt, I am left with a million and one things I was always meant to, but never quite got around to doing. I guess I could add teaching my dad how to text to the list and losing that last pound that just won’t budge from my thighs, but like I said these’s aren’t resolutions, and I am not a miracle worker.


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How To Recognise People With Foreign Parents.

I’ve lived in London my whole life. I was born over here so I suppose that makes me, if not English, then British at least. So what separates me from all my English friends? Because despite the fact we all went to the same school, watched the same cartoons growing up and all now live within about a 2mile radius of each other, there is a definite difference.

It’s our families, and while my classmates were all bought up with some level of normalcy, I was raised by a man who herded sheep as a child and the woman who chose to marry him. On face value we might seem the same as every other Londoner, but once you know how to read the signs, you’ll notice that you can actually spot us as mile off…

1. You know you’re dealing with someone who has foreign parents when it takes them 10 minutes to explain to the Fed Ex guy how to spell their surname. “No… an.. as..iou… iou… no just one iou… here let me just write if for you!” Because apparently even spell-check can’t help you out with Athanasiou.

2. It doesn’t matter if she’s 26, while she’s living at home, if you’re picking her up for a date, the chances are you’re going to have to wait around the corner.

3. Also, once they do move out, it’s of no consequence how many years they’ve been living away from home, if they’re going to visit their parents, they will be coming back with a clean basket of laundry and 6 assorted Sainsbury’s carrier bags. This is has nothing to do with being spoilt, this is just how our mothers show us love.

Quiet Sunday Dinner...

4. Cooking for Sunday dinner doesn’t involve a quiet meal for 4. No, it involves peeling potatoes until your arm goes numb; after all it’s rude to cook and not invite the whole family over. And even if the whole family isn’t coming, it’s best to cook for them anyway… just in case. Don’t worry this isn’t wasteful, what doesn’t get eaten today will be re-heated four times and eaten every night next week.

5. If while cooking together you pass them the wooden spoon and they duck, I promise this is completely normal. It’s a reflex deeply ingrained in them from the age of about 10 when they brought home their first bad report card and in turn got their first beating. Other such painful memory triggers include: slippers, brooms and their mums hand.

6. This one may be Cypriot specific but, we don’t say turn ‘on the lights’, we say ‘open the lights’. And no, despite being corrected several million times, we still don’t care that it doesn’t make any sense.

7. We have all at some point in our lives received a lecture which is a variation on the classic: “I came to this country with only two pounds in my pocket and I worked hard to build all this for you so you and your sister could have everything…” This may have something to do with the fact our parents believe we don’t recognise hard work due to the fact we have never ploughed a field.

8. “I’m going on holiday to see my family” tends to mean “see you in 5 weeks. I may have a twinge to my accent upon return and if all goes to plan I will be almost black”.

9. Despite being born over here, and having cultivated just about every British tradition going,  we still refer to everyone else as: “English People“.

Souvla Sunday...

10. Again, this may be a Cypriot specific adaptation, derived from the days where public transport was called Laki The Donkey, or perhaps it’s a result of our families missing the village days where everything you ever needed was a 3 minute walk away. Either way we all live pretty much down the same road, or at a push a couple of roads over. This essentially saves money on phone calls because you don’t need to call everyone to invite them to a Sunday BBQ, you just put the meat on and wait for them to smell it.


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Am I Dead Inside?

I can’t cry during Titanic. Can’t being the operative word because I’ve actually tried.

And it’s not just Titanic. I sit through every heart wrenching film the Odeon has to offer, next to my best friend who’s going through Kleenex like tears are back in fashion, and I’m just sitting there thinkingplease just give me one tear, just one little tear. But alas, nothing.

It’s not that I never cry, I mean the check-out boy at KFC who gave me the wrong order once is testimony to that. It’s more that I seem to have accidentally trained my body to recognize it as a sign of weakness. It falls into the same category as all those other things normal girls should be able to do, but I find such a challenge. Like say the L word (to someone, anyone other than my dog). Or text a guy first. Or bloody hell even hug my friends without thinking, “Okay get off me now, I’m patting your back, why aren’t you getting the hint, everyone knows the back-pat is a sign to immediately remove yourself from me”.

Now I’ve put a lot of thought into this so hear me out… maybe it’s not me that’s the problem. Maybe it’s every other girl in the world with an overly developed level of sensitivity, making me look bad, and ruining all the hard work put in by women who have chosen to evolve past housewives.

They go around, telling guys how much they l*ve them after three weeks of dating, and cry on trains when they read a story in the Metro about a kitten being put in a dustbin and Lord save me, even update their statuses with quotes from The Notebook. But because there’s an actual army of them, instead of cringing, everyone’s got used to it, and dare I say it accepted this as the norm.

Then there’s me. And I think surely I haven’t got it so wrong.

So it takes me a little while to warm up to someone. Even if I really want to I can’t just go up to them and say “hell, I like you, wanna make out” (and jeez isn’t that the man’s job anyway?)

So I watch My Sisters Keeper and think “that’s so sad” instead of letting my the sadness run down my face. At least I can leave the cinema without mascara on my chin.

So I’m stubborn as hell and won’t admit  it if nervous. Is that really the worst quality you can find in a girl?

Oh it is..? Then darling I’m screwed.


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