Introducing your hostess for this evening ..
and she's feeling pretty damn
Home ..
Upstairs at vixgirl
Pitas
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sign my guestbook
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.. and away
notsosoft
gusset
lukelog
marychen
gmtplus9
misterpants
peapod
tokyo tales
madorangefools
And then there's the archives ..
Listing! Listing!
Saturday, December 29, 2001, 09:17 p.m.
Thinking about the last entry and my will-to-make-lists .. the lovely Juli picked out this terrific story: 10 reasons to Make Lists. I love reason number 11: "Without lists, life is listless". Hee hee.
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I know a boy, a boy called Trash
Friday, December 28, 2001, 05:59 p.m.
Um. Hi. Merry Christmas, guys. I hope you all have been too busy to be spending much time on the net .. I know I have .. but it's been lovely busy, fun busy, not draining energy-sapping busy like it was a few weeks ago. I had a lovely Christmas Day .. snuggled up in my flat with my lovely John and my cool brother, playing Grand Theft Auto 3, eating delicious food and celebrating. There was the usual gift-giving frenzy .. John just rocks my world .. he gave me one of these cool little toys as well as Jimmy Corrigan the Smartest Kid on Earth, and loads more cool stuff besides. And my brother has my trashy side just wired .. he gave me the All Saints Greatest Hits. (If you listen carefully, you'll hear my credibility crashing to an all-time low ..)
So anyway, it's nearly new year and I've decided this year to make a list of goals for the coming year .. sort of a plan for a Better Vix, if you like. John buys a lot of his DJ-ing records from a guy at Spitalfields Market and this guy was telling John all about how he and his partner write a list of things they'd like to do or they should do or whatever, and keep it as a kind of wish-list for the year ahead. If they do stuff on it, great, if not, then no problem, it just serves as a kind of reminder of the things they'd like to do. So I'm planning to write my own list. If you have any suggestions for things I might try to do in 2002, why don't you let me know?
One of those things, I think, could be: Vixgirl shalt stay away from sales at LK Bennett. I'd link to their site, but it's pretty, um, rudimentary. But just in case you don't know, LK Bennett sells shoes to reduce a grown woman to tears. Result of today's foray: two gorgeous pairs of shoes. One large hole in wallet. Dearie me.
Some of my other aims (drink more water, do more yoga, eat less pasta bake, code more html, etc) are all kind of high-fibre, low-pleasure resolutions. The most important one: more cake.
Let me explain. A while back I read a restaurant review where, rather than review a normal restaurant, the reviewer had gone to the food hall at Selfridges, where you can sit at the counter and eat your purchases. He ended up eating a piece of cake and watching the passing trade. He noted that people always look happy and expectant when they decide to buy cake. So: more cake. Not actual cake but more the concept of cake -- sweet, frivolous, indulgent. That'd be a pretty good design for life, I reckon.
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Oh. Another thing.
Sunday, December 23, 2001, 10:23 p.m.
Speaking of vanilla lattes -- I always feel my coffee order is a bit over the top: large latte with skim milk and vanilla syrup. The skim milk is not in a "triple cheese pizza and diet Coke" sense -- I absolutely loathe the taste of full-fat milk. But I always feel faintly ridiculous asking for something so involved.
I guess I should fear not, though, because Linda Evangelista's coffee order is just that little bit more involved than anyone else's. Yup, when Mrs Fabien Barthez rocks up to the Starbucks in Manchester's lovely Arndale centre, she orders a half-caf, double-tall, non-fat, wholemilk foam, half-pump mocha, half sugar in the raw, double cup, no lid, capp. Allegedly. Mind you, she also says she loves Manchester. Can we draw any conclusions from this? I think we can.
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So nearly Christmas!
Sunday, December 23, 2001, 09:55 p.m.
We like holidays. Holidays are goooood. I can feel the tension working its way out of my muscles. Sometimes it's not till I fully relax that I realise how tightly wound I was before. I tend to think of myself as fairly relaxed, and I know my workmates often think of me as so laid-back that I need a special chair. But busyness and working hard and sleeping badly had all taken their toll a bit, I think.
Now I'm at home after a few good sleeps and a delicious dinner. My gorgeous John and my cool little brother are downstairs playing on our foxy new Playstation 2, and there are fairylights on all over the house. It's nearly Christmas and I have all my shopping done, glittery and shiny paper to wrap them in .. yes. I'm doing pretty good.
Stopped at our favourite cafe today and while drinking a vanilla latte and reading (whisper) The Face I came across this great site -- Bomb Pop. Cute, sassy graphics. Nice nice.
Also: may I recommend these yoga types. Prompt service and a damn cute hot pink yoga mat. I'm gonna get me into a crocodile if it kills me .. which it nearly might.
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Mishima-san
Monday, December 17, 2001, 07:23 p.m.
Just found this rather amazing selection of articles about Yukio Mishima from the New York Times .. original reviews, interviews, reactions to his suicide, the works. If you haven't read him, perhaps this might entice you.
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Improve those search hits!
Monday, December 17, 2001, 04:50 p.m.
Yet more strange spam in my inbox .. this time from someone wanting to speak to the "head of marketing" for vixgirl dot pitas dot com. Ahem, I raise my hand shyly. But soon wish I had not bothered, for it is only an invitation to improve my site hits by subscribing to their "low-cost" search engine submission thang. Anyway, rather brilliantly, here's why they think I should join:
I found http://vixgirl.pitas.com in Lycos on page 94 for the search term "down winter coats". I understand that you obviously have other search terms by which people find you, but I would like to show you how we can help you get higher rankings for all of your search phrases. As you know if you are not in the first 3 pages of the search engines, you will not see any real traffic.
Thank god for web-crawling bots, huh .. I hate to think of some poor arse being given the job of searching for something as bollocks as "down winter coats" and feeling they had to search all the way through to the end of the Lycos results. Thankfully, I'm not too concerned that my site doesn't rate that highly with down winter coat searches. Had they only mentioned the hairy armpits .. ah, 'twould be a different story.
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Old Vix, new Vix
Wednesday, December 12, 2001, 05:51 p.m.
Oh, while I've got your attention: you must, must go and check out the Internet Archive. The lovely Peta pointed me at it, and it's just great. You can see millions of old pages The Way They Were -- sites long since shut down, pages whose links have long been lost. Even Vixgirl dot com is in there (rayyyy!). This is already an amazing cultural artefact .. just think what it'll be like in years to come.
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I shave. That's it.
Wednesday, December 12, 2001, 05:37 p.m.
Well, according to my stats log, more people come to this 'ere site looking for "hairy armpits webring" than any other search. That's so random -- considering I think I've mentioned hairy armpits just once before on this site, and in relation to Nena (she of 99 Luftballons, remember?) For the record, my armpits may occasionally host unappetising stubble, but I've never sported the full Euro-carpet under the arms, and never will. And I apologise to anyone who comes to this page looking for luscious hirsute babes. Kay?
In other news, I have three consecutive Christmas work parties coming up and I'm feeling a tad underwhelmed. In my experience they're either (a) crashingly dull and you can't even get on the piss properly cos the bosses are there (b) really embarrassing as your colleagues get rat-arsed and start doing lambada/karaoke/Robbie Williams impersonations or (c) you get the alcohol balance (not quite enough versus way way too much) completely wrong, do something incredibly embarrassing yourself and end up hearing about it for the rest of your days at that job. I suspect tonight will be (a) or (b) .. I've only done (c) once, and never will again.
I've never actually been to the kind of Christmas do where everyone tries to photocopy their arses or gets into a huge fist-fight. But that kind of party does seem to be somewhat of a British institution, if this is anything to go by. Myself, I plan to have a few drinks but not too many, try to curb my usual habit of telling outrageous gossip about my colleagues, and come home at closing time to drink lots of water and fall into bed, feeling virtuous. Hah. Post mortems anon.
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As funny as a fart in a lift
Friday, December 7, 2001, 06:32 p.m.
Leafing through the crusty old pages of the v. worthy International Herald Tribune .. and lo, what should appear but this gem. Ladeezangennulmun, I present to you: anti-flatulence underwear. Dear God.
Apart from that arresting Christmas gift suggestion, the highlight of my day was getting to play with an Aibo. Man, was he cute. He played with his little pink ball, recognised his name and wiggled his ears when I patted him on the nose. So so so gorgeous. It's strange how people reacted to this little plastic-and-silicon-chip being as it wandered around, playing and looking at its surroundings. A few "real dog" movements, and you're suddenly convinced you're looking at a living, breathing being. And a damn cute one.
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Test this, pal.
Tuesday, December 4, 2001, 04:14 p.m.
Internet personality tests. Waste of bandwidth or intimate insight into your inner being? Or, uh, neither? Today I have learned that if I were a work of art, I'd be The Scream by Edvard Munch. Which I've never liked. Or (via madorangefools) if I were a character in Reservoir Dogs, I'd be Mr Brown: "a real straight to the point, John Holmes muthafucka", apparently, played by Quentin Tarantino who I'm also not that keen on. Let me just inform the populace: if I were an icecream flavour, I'd be the one with teeny after-dinner mints in it, and if I were a city in the US, I'd be Charleston. And I don't need no test to tell me that. Hee.
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Sex toys!
Monday, December 3, 2001, 07:10 p.m.
Well, Myla have been getting a lot of press in the run-up to Christmas, with all the fash-mags declaring that your festive season just won't be complete without a Tom Dixon vibrator. Nice idea, but I just can't see the point of spending £149 on a stylish, minimalist sex toy. I mean .. in a way .. the whole point of buying this kind of thing is that it should be kind of trashy, no? Not sleazy .. but when the need for designer labels goes, erm, internal, you know it's gone a bit far. But then what do I know? Myla reckons demand for the Dixon vibrator is so high that they're currently taking orders for Valentine's Day .. so I guess there'll be a big-ass contented silence settling over the converted warehouse districts this Christmas.
In my opinion, D-Vice are about as cool as it gets. Their toys are pretty ace (and yes, I'm a satisfied customer) and it all looks a hell of a lot more fun, really. I don't get the impression that any of these guys will spend time wondering whether their Marc Newsom vibe would go better with the Colette Dinnigan camisole or the Prada petticoat. They're too busy enjoying themselves, oh yes.
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embrace your inner drag queen
Friday, November 30, 2001, 07:34 p.m.
I've made an important discovery today: no matter how tired and slightly ill you might feel, it is absolutely impossible to have a bad day when you're wearing sparkly socks and slingbacks. Love it. Rather than parade my sexy footwear on a Friday night, I'm going home to chug vitamin C and echinacea. But even though I may be snuggled into a hoodie and under a blanket, the sparkly socks will stay, a reminder of all the goodness that is a Glitter Friday.
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feel the bandwidth!
Wednesday, November 28, 2001, 06:05 p.m.
Well .. this is a momentously exciting thing for me and of vanishingly little interest to anyone else, but I have a new computer at work. It puts the other one to shame. Which means I can now click all the clever movie-type links people send me, and actually make them work. Check this out .. those cute little Lego men do the full Monty. As in Python. Don't worry, it's nothing like that Legorection thing from a few days back.
And then there's this .. which is kind of silly, but made me laugh. Quite a bit of fun to be had on SeeThru, actually. E-cards usually suck, but this is kind of great.
Precious little to report in my life, no sir. Stayed up too late last night watching that UK house documentary Pump Up the Volume on Channel 4. Absolutely stoked to see it included Leftfield's remarkable Open Up and the Happy Mondays' WFL. I first heard that track on a Triple J interview with Tony Wilson back in 1990 I think, and it totally blew me away .. amazingly, you can listen to that interview here. Mainstream and naff I may be, but both those tracks were really important in this rock kid's conversion to dance music. Allow me a moment while I reminisce --god, I remember when it was all fields round 'ere, etc.
I'm supposed to be going out drinking tonight at a place called Beach Blanket Babylon. Yikes. I expect cocktails with umbrellas may be on the menu. In the meantime .. if you think you're having a tough day, check this.
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Strike a flippin' light!
Friday, November 23, 2001, 02:21 p.m.
I have very little patience with Madonna at the best of times, but this is just pure pox, in my opinion. "Guy doesn't like anyone to see my raspberries", indeed. Me and my fellow East Londoners agreed that you never hear real Cockneys talking like that -- only public school educated neo-Estuarians. Mind you, one of my workmates then went on to say real Cockneys smell like bacon. Y'never can tell.
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little and often
Friday, November 23, 2001, 01:25 p.m.
Gosh, entries in this weblog are becoming a tad infrequent, ain't they? Still, I have a quiet-ish day to do some admin (expenses, timesheets and other curses of the modern wage-slave) so there is time for a little quick linkage.
Link The First: What happens when you put a whole variety of different things in your microwave. This engenders a similar reaction in me to Jackass. I'm not sure why these folks feel the need to do this, but I'm very glad they do.
Link The Second: a workmate sent me this. It's, ah, kind of dodgy, but did make me laugh not a little.
Link The Third: in honour of the man who's on high-rotate in my brain today ("get excited, throw your hands into the aiiiirrrrr") I think I might go and buy Ian Brown's latest today. I'm nothing if not up to date, me.
Link The Fourth: speaking of songs that worm their way into your brain and don't let go: these are the people that are to blame for that. Now if only they could do something to permanently erase that bloody Whigfield song from history. BTW, you'll be glad to know that's "the largest, most interactive, informative and progressive Whigfield Homepage" on the Web, according to its websatan. Yep, it's a hotly contested field, but I only bring you the best.
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dog-yawn
Friday, November 16, 2001, 07:29 p.m.
My parents used to have three big scruffy dogs (Scottish deerhounds, to be exact) and when they felt the need, these dogs had the best yawns in the world. They'd open their big mouths, teeth and tongue and all and just yaaaaaaawwwwnnn so big and wide, it looked terrific. That's kind of what I feel like now.
So, Friday night. You'd think: hmm, media ho. She'll be off to the West End, to some exclusive members-only club where she'll lick E off the naked bodies of failed boy-band members while Jade Jagger, Robbie Williams and the cast of Hollyoaks watch in admiration. No, no. Not this one. This is what I'm doing tonight, in this order:
1. Leaving work, right now
2. Going to Borders
3. Buying books .. Mishima, maybe Murakami and whatever else takes my fancy. Whether their names begin with 'm' or not.
4. Heading home, via Tesco Metro where I'll buy red wine and salad.
5. Making dinner .. blobbing out in front of So Graham Norton .. then bed.
Bliss. And tomorrow we're off to Barcelona. Glee! I'll be back in a few days, hopefully with some good historias Espanolas. Hasta la proxima.
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Resistance is .. erm ..
Friday, November 16, 2001, 11:05 a.m.
Via Tokyo Tales comes the best name generator yet. My cyborg name is J.E.S.S.I.C.A.: Journeying Electronic Soldier Skilled in Infiltration and Ceaseless Assassination. Heh.
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So bendeth the banana ..
Tuesday, November 13, 2001, 10:18 a.m.
Reassuring words from this test: Have you become a Pom? (NB: for international readers, that's Aussie/Kiwi slang for a British person, and Pommification is what can happen to Antipodeans after a few months in the UK .. they start saying "dyouknawhorrimean" and drinking warm lager ..)
Anyway .. don't come the raw prawn with me, pal, cos I am not a Pommie:
You are certainly not a Pom, nay you are a child of the New World, always ready to have a party, throw some meat on the fire, and aren’t afraid of chewing the fat, getting some sun or going barefoot. You can’t understand shagpile carpets, and don’t care to know what spotted dick is. When you go home your friends will still like you.
Hah. That's that sorted, then. (via notsosoft)
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Merci la vie
Monday, November 12, 2001, 08:28 p.m.
Busy, busy, super busy .. yet again. This, combined with my work computer slowing to a near halt (I'm getting a new one soon, allegedly, but for now it's just a disaster) means I haven't been doing much blogging .. and I'm really sorry about that.
One reason .. *cough* well it's kind of an extension of the usual reason actually, but last week I had to organise a shoot in Paris and then go and produce it .. wheeee trip to France! After a great deal of phone calling and speaking in very rusty French, I managed to line up interviews with two Very Important Political People. Arrived in loads of time for the Eurostar, bags full of tapes, looking quite the organised producer lass, then found I had completely forgotten that I needed my passport to travel to France. I am such a dork. Fortunately a black-cab trip home got me on the next-but-one train, and my presenter was very understanding about it .. but still. Not exactly the professional producer, rilly.
Despite the bad start, the shoots went really well and Paris was just breathtaking .. chilly winter sun making everything look picture-book gorgeous. So different to my last trip there .. that was in 1991 when my sister and I did our Big European Trip. Paris was rather grey, damp and unprepossessing that time. There were no leaves on the trees and everything just looked a bit, well, ordinary. I also found my attempts at French-speaking went terribly badly. After 5 years of studying the language I couldn't even ask for a train ticket or a coffee without people sneering and bringing me the wrong thing. We stayed in a scruffy hostel and because our money was running out, we lived on baguettes with ham and Kronenbourg, bought from a local deli. We still had a good time, but it certainly wasn't my favourite of the places we visited, and I wasn't in a hurry to return.
This time, for some reason, it felt completely different. The city was, as I've mentioned, glowing. I managed to make myself understood en Francais, even to the point of making chit-chat with taxi drivers. I ate cheaply and pretty well in a couple of smallish restaurants. I bought some luscious Annick Goutal perfume, fingered Balenciaga jackets longingly and wandered in a beautiful food-hall, full of strange meats and exotic imported fruit. The only thing that was missing was the lovely John to accompany me on my trip around the city of Lurrrve (TM).
By the way: Kylie is dead right. Did you know French keyboards are laid out completely different to English ones? I didn't, until I sat down at a pooty in our hotel and started typing complete bloody gibberish. There are 'q's in places there shouldn't be, you have to 'shift' to access the numbers .. tres bizarre. I know it's all about ease of access of the most-used characters etc etc but really .. isn't it just another French plot to disorient us etrangers? (Very Important Note: This is not horrible anti-Europe stereotyping, it is a silly joke. Ne m'envoyez pas du hate-mail, d'accord?)
Anyway. The link that's made me laugh out loud during this mad week has been this: an annual competition to find the opening line to the worst novel ever written. It's hysterical. Here's this year's winner:
A small assortment of astonishingly loud brass instruments raced each other lustily to the respective ends of their distinct musical choices as the gates flew open to release a torrent of tawny fur comprised of angry yapping bullets that nipped at Desdemona's ankles, causing her to reflect once again (as blood filled her sneakers and she fought her way through the
panicking crowd) that the annual Running of the Pomeranians in Liechtenstein was a stupid idea.
You wouldn't read about it. Hopefully.
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afterthought
Sunday, November 4, 2001, 12:10 p.m.
Oh, by the way. For the person who came to this site looking for "hairy armpits webring" -- get help. And for the one who was looking for "hot hot teen fcuk" -- get a dictionary. Or a French Connection catalogue. My lawd!
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bangs and flashes
Sunday, November 4, 2001, 11:50 a.m.
I've never been totally convinced by Halloween -- blame it on growing up in Anglophile New Zealand, but I was never allowed to go trick or treating, and where I'm from, pumpkins is fo' eatin', yass. But Guy Fawkes -- now that I can relate to. It always marks the beginning of summer in NZ, which makes it pretty cool even without masses of fireworks and the excitement of setting things alight. But last night, walking home from friends' in Finchley, the chilly air was thick with bonfire smoke and there were fireworks dotting the sky all over the place. I'm finally getting my head around this opposite-seasons thing.
Leap to totally unrelated thing: this competition on the BBC website is a little post-mod, don't you think? Win a date with the laddish lads in the Babyfather series. Hmm. Will they pretend to be in character .. or will they be their thesp selves, worrying about key lights and their next gig .. or will the whole thing dissolve into a welter of signs and signifiers? Where is that damn Baudrillard when you need him? (Answer: he's here. Sorry to get all rhetorical on you.)
Leap to totally unrelated thing 2: only at Major Employer could I come into work saying I watched a brilliant documentary about Jordan the night before, and have people say, "oh brilliant -- was King Hussein saying anything about Blair's visit?" Bless. I refer, of course, to the page 3 "stunna" who had to live without fame for a whole three days, pretending to be a trainee groom in a stables. Yikes. Her oft-repeated catchphrase -- "Cooom on! Bring it on!!" -- has wormed its way in my vocabulary and I've found myself saying it then clapping my hands over my mouth in horror.
Anyway. I'm off to listen to some more Isaac Hayes (John's bought a live album which features the-man-who-is-Chef singing "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" -- quite remarkable) and drink some tea. You should go and read Juli and Catherine. They rock, with an a-w-k.
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bally heck!
Monday, October 29, 2001, 06:41 p.m.
I don't know what it is about Eudoramail, but you certainly get a better class of spam on it. My bulk mail folder in Hotmail is full of stuff entitled "HOT TEENS WANT YOU NOW! jfskgl" (what's with that jfskgl, by the way? they all seem to have these random bursts of random letters, which seems a tad strange to me ..) but in Eudoramail, I get utter gems like this:
Vulgar Language On TV Is On The Rise
New Invention Removes Profanity From TV And Movies!
"TV Guardian"
New invention: The "TV Guardian". It literally will not allow profanity to be spoken on your TV! Imagine automatically replacing the following phrases on TV anytime you watch with the ones beneath them!
As you hear it: It's a G_ _ D_ _m shame!
TV Guardian's Replacement On Your TV: It's a shame!
As you hear it: Move your A_s!
TV Guardian's Replacement On Your TV: Move your tail!
As you hear it: Did you two have S_x?
TV Guardian's Replacement On Your TV: Did you two have hugs?
As you hear it: F_ _k you, B_s _ _ _d!
TV Guardian's Replacement On Your TV: Go away, jerk!
Priceless. It goes on:
TV Guardian also removes other offensive language:
Racial terminology
Crude words
Sexual terms
"Child profanity" (shut-up, idiot, stupid, etc.)
150 words are edited out by the TV Guardian: All the profanity we adults know, and then some that only today's kids know!
Jesus, or should I say, heck! Fudge! Christchurch! Motherfucker arsehole shitbag wanker stupid idiot! You bet I'm a mature individual, and Eudoramail knows it.
Anyway. I'm away for a couple of days on a training course .. Major Employer is teaching me how to comport myself in a war zone. I shall report back in two days' time, at 1730 hours sharp, sah!
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Daylight saving rules!
Sunday, October 28, 2001, 12:51 p.m.
Well .. you'll be glad to know that Kylie's-last-night-do was a good laugh. The blogmeet turnout was, erm, minimalist -- only Davo and Luke came along, but in a way that was good -- I'm not sure I could have handled too many in one space without feeling very embarrassed about my non-existent coding 5k1llz. Yes, it's a bit of a complex. Yes, I should do something about it. No, I must confess it's not likely to happen soon.
Anyway, along with a couple of Kylie's workmates and friends, we headed for Preem on Brick Lane which is one of the more delicious curry houses in that area -- ate, drank and made merry, and then I walked home through the slightly scary back streets. All up, a fun night, and a very pleasant initiation into the Gblogs culture. Kylie's now in Paris, soon to head to Tokyo and then Oz .. it's been great to get to know her, and I'm sure she'll carry on sending the gospel of pinkness around the globe :).
Pleasant Saturday -- record-shopping (new Fugazi, old Sonic Youth), cooking, watching bad television, trying to ring my bro in Grenada. I had a rather drunken phone message from him early on Saturday. It seems that in the West Indies, Coca-Cola is really expensive, about £4 a bottle -- approximately the same as the local rum. So when you get a rum and coke, the proportions are somewhat more generous than the ol' Black Heart and Britvic you get in this country -- think more like 50/50. He's sent me photos of the results. Mess-y.
Then a wonderful Sunday morning -- lie in, brioche, coffee and fine company (in the form of John's friend Al, who turned up quite early, thanks to this daylight saving thing. Quite made up for having to come into work today -- Important Guest could not come in during the week, only today. Oh well. I've already spent my extra hour in fine style -- I can't begrudge a few more here at Major Employer.
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grumble
Thursday, October 25, 2001, 04:47 p.m.
Right. This is my third attempt at an entry -- Pitas keeps eating them. My brilliant words are now completely lost in the ether of my ever-softening brain .. but in summary .. I'm finding it hard to pay attention this arvo .. I'm going to My First Blogmeet this evening .. and there's new stuff on my site. Bet you're glad I persisted, eh readers?
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Unnyfay Ingthay
Thursday, October 18, 2001, 06:28 p.m.
Okay, now here's one for the "Too much time on their hands" file. In Google's "Language tools" section, you can choose to have your interface in Basque, Gallego, Turkish .. or Elmer Fudd, Hacker (l33t, d00d), Pig Latin or my personal favourite, The Swedish Chef. Minimal utility, maximum amusement.
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The girl with colitis ..
Wednesday, October 17, 2001, 03:52 p.m.
These misheard lyrics are rather alarming .. can't wait for their interpretations of Duran Duran. Mind you, they're bizarre enough even if you do get them right. All together now: The Reflex is a lonely child, he's waiting by the park ..
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Page Three kebab shocker!
Wednesday, October 17, 2001, 09:16 a.m.
Headline of the day so far for me: "Jordan's face in a naan bread: amazing pictures". Good old Daily Star, eh? I can't find a link on their site -- but trust me, the resemblance of said naan bread to Jordan is, um, minimal. Says our hero, Anthony Cox: "I was just about to sink my teeth into the naan when I saw the image of Jordan. It was amazing. You could see her hair, her eyes and of course her breasts. I've always been a big fan of Jordan and her assets, so to have her round for dinner, quite literally, was great." He plans to varnish the naan and hang it on his wall. Overcooked, shiny, puffy starch .. mmm, I can see the resemblance.
Speaking of silicon -- according to the faithful Metro, more than 400 people in Europe injured themselves with rubber bands last year, while those evil beasts staplers caused 1317 casualties. These people are trying to do something about it. Stay tuned for details on how to avoid poisonings from inferior coffee-machine drinks and stranglings by roller towels.
I went to see Amelie last night -- what a breath-takingly lovely film. Jeunet manages to tell a very sweet story without a hint of whimsy .. just gorgeous.
And while I wasn't frantically trying to book guests and carefully open my mail yesterday, I spent a lot of time playing this game. Much harder than it looks ..
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Ole, ole, ola
Tuesday, October 9, 2001, 01:39 p.m.
I'm back .. slightly tired (0200 arrival into Gatwick), pretty tanned (for me, pale blue Scottish person) and very happy. We had a terrific holiday .. photos and stories on the main site soon, but oh, it was lovely. Arriving very late in Turkey .. stopping by the roadside and drinking tea with loads of Turkish truckies who didn't speak a word of English but taught me my first Turkish word .. tersekku ederim (thank you). Waking up in the dark to hear the dawn call to prayer wafting across the city. Eating melon warmed by the sun then washing my face in river water. The beautiful beach. And spending loads of time with John, revelling in each other's company. It was wonderful. And now I'm back in London, the sun is in and out from behind the clouds. I have washing to do, trips to the post office but right now I'm going to go downstairs and eat some turkish delight. It's nice to be back.
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The Voice of a Generation and his new project
Sunday, September 30, 2001, 11:12 p.m.
So Douglas Coupland's new project, a "heavily illustrated" story called God Hates Japan, will only be available in Japan. It does all look a little knowing, in true Coupland fashion, but I kind of think I have to get it. Won't be able to understand all that much, but it could be the push I need to move my Japanese studies up a gear.
Like so many of my, erm, generation, Generation X is still one of my favourite books. He does frustrate me, old Doug -- his clever-dick quotient is nearly off the scale (a scale that has Will Self at its far end, may I say) but when he actually gets on with the writing part, I can't get enough. Anyway, I've bought All Families are Psychotic to read on holiday .. I'll let you know. I read Miss Wyoming on my last long plane trip, and hopefully this one won't have any air crashes in it. No matter how confident a flyer you are, it's never a good move to read that kind of thing while you're airborne.
Anyway .. with that .. I'm off on holiday. We're going to Patara in Turkey to enjoy some sun, look at Roman ruins and just completely chill out. Back in about a week .. take care, have fun, see you soon, and all that ..
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Er, whu?
Saturday, September 29, 2001, 05:39 p.m.
Those clever ol' spammers, eh? Not content with sending me endless messages about "Buffy riding hard c*ck" (asterisk theirs, not mine) and lots of hot teen sluts offering interest free credit cards, today I received this pearl:
****Investigational Overactive Bladder Treatment****
National Clinical Trial
Do you or someone you know experience any of these symptoms?
* Urinary leakage?
* Difficulty controlling the urge to urinate?
* The perception of the need to urinate frequently during the day or night?
Learn more about this research study:
Volunteers 18 years of age and older are currently being screened for participation in a
nationwide research study for overactive bladder. The purpose of this research study is to
evaluate the safety and effectiveness of an investigational medication designed to control
overactive bladder.
Now I know this is a real problem for some people, yes, yes. But really -- doesn't it make you wonder what kind of user profile I must fit to get spam like this? Guess that even though Eudoramail thinks I'm a 56 year old Albanian tree surgeon called Wolf, someone must think I'm worth spamming *preen*.
Oh, and the BBC reports that everything is going to be just fine. Not really. But it's nice to think someone might have spiked the water cooler with E, isn't it?
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God, the fun never stops
Thursday, September 27, 2001, 06:30 p.m.
Getting towards the end of another blisteringly busy week .. whew, I'll raise a class of chemical-tasting water to that. I apologise for my terrible lack of blogging action here .. but I've barely had time to see daylight, let alone idly cruise the web.
Highlights of this week have included some pretty stellar successes for our programme .. a secret Lamb gig with Kylie Gusset (very cool! lots of energy, beautiful songs and a really pleasant vibe under the railway arches in Hoxtondahling) .. filling my tube journeys with favourite Banana Yoshimoto book plus rawk minidisc .. true bliss in the form of chocolate chip bagels .. sparkly nail varnish that dries instantly in hot water .. finding the perfect jeans at (whisper) fcuk. Simple pleasures, but they've made up for the frenetic pace at work.
Off to a wedding in Cambridge tomorrow .. yes, another wedding, but another chance to get frocked up and party, even in a subdued wedding-ish way. More soon, I promise. And I may even get back to finding some shiny new links. The site that's filled me with joy this week has been this. Very useful, but it's hardly going to earn me big points in the ace blog stakes ..
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Slack bitch
Friday, September 21, 2001, 09:34 a.m.
Sorry for the lack of linkage .. 'tis weird, but I've been feeling less than motivated this week. I know I keep saying how busy work's been, and everyone keeps saying "just wait till we go to war" .. this sends shivers down my spine, and not just for those reasons, either. While at the gym yesterday I heard Frankie Goes To Hollywood's "Two Tribes" and okay, it doesn't make that amazing a statement or anything, but it did make me think about a time when nuclear war was a distinct possibility and all us little idealistic teenagers thought that music could stop it.
Anyway. This week, I 'ave been mostly watching the Old Grey Whistle Test reruns, and the great discovery has been Rory Gallager. Bogan guitar histrionics, but in a very cool way.
I also found myself remembering a couple of poems. I know you/not your name, but your game .. (the Poetry Lady, from Pump Up the Volume) which made me think of Henry Rollins. for you, life is a long trip/terrifying and wonderful .. Read the rest here.
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grief
Friday, September 14, 2001, 03:55 p.m.
Busy, busy, so so busy. If I stop, I might just collapse from the sadness, the awfulness, the sheer enormity of it all. Observed Europe's three minutes' silence today. I've never heard Major Employer so quiet. We all watched, and thought, and hoped.
Quickly -- this site is remarkable. And my thoughts are with Tracing and Cubiclegirl -- two long-time links who are hurting badly.
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Holy shit
Tuesday, September 11, 2001, 02:55 p.m.
God. Two planes crash into the World Trade Center, another into the Pentagon. This is just .. unbelievable. I am sitting at Major Employer very near the desk that co-ordinates the foreign news for the whole output. And it's going absolutely mental.
If you can't get to a television, check BBC Online. As I type, another explosion. I think one of the World Trade Center towers just collapsed. Thousands of people must be dead. People are working hard, typing away, on the phone and their eyes never leave the television screens. As they work, frantically, everyone is somber, horrified. And where I sit, right next to me, is a window that's still boarded up after a bomb went off outside Major Employer a few months back. In some way, this touches all of us. These are frightening times.
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Standing still. Big deal.
Monday, September 10, 2001, 03:25 p.m.
Meg delivers a well-thought rant about those street performers who do nothing more than stand still. I couldn't agree more. I hate them. Covent Garden is full of these tossers, all painted in bronze paint or dressed like mummies or whatever, standing perfectly still while around them, a crowd gathers, watching intently. I feel like hurling myself into the fray, yelling "Don't bloody encourage them! All they're doing is standing still, for fuck's sake!" I particularly hate the ones who have cleverly drawn little pictographic signs pointing out that if you're deranged enough to want to take a photo, you have to pay them two quid. Is that because, like, you're stealing their soul? Cheap at the price, innit?
Anyway. One of the first people I encountered doing this was a guy in New Zealand, who'd stand motionless in the street until you gave him money, whereupon he'd start moving robotically, making strange creaking noises. He was a huge hit and made lots of money. One night, I found out what he did with it. I was sitting in a grungy but much-loved pub (The Occidental, RIP) when I saw this guy in the corner, maniacally feeding his hard-earned coinage into the poker machines. Kind of took the gloss off it, really.
Then more recently, I went to Barcelona and saw that La Rambla is a natural exhibition point for legions of these standing-still folk. And I saw two of them, a silver-painted man and a mummy I think they were, fighting about who'd stolen who's patch. "No! This is where I stand still!" "Come 'ere and say that, you prick!" "No! I can't move! It's my bloody livelihood you're talking about!" And so on. It would have been surreal, but then in Barcelona that's no more than you'd expect. Arf.
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yagghh
Friday, September 7, 2001, 10:46 p.m.
Yes, it's Friday night, and when I'd rather be at home in a yummy-smelling Lush bath, I'm at work. Gah! I'm rather tired, too. Went to a do last night at our neighbour's .. he directs commercials and music videos, and he'd just finished his latest project -- a new video for Coldplay. Beautiful video, delicious red wine and cheese, and intriguing lighting of fireworks using batteries and electrical cable (nope, me either). Not quite so good was the re-enactment of Riverdance at about 3am, right above our bed. I guess when you've inhaled enough cordite, Irish dancing starts to seem like a pretty funky idea.
I am working the next 8 days in a row, and have been so busy today that I've had nary a moment to bring you any links. Pathetic. But I've been rather mellowed out by (increasingly regular) visits to Freshfroot. Sigh.
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Vixgirl conveys an emotion .. umm
Tuesday, September 4, 2001, 05:36 p.m.
Okay, this link is swiped from the utterly terrific So Graham Norton, but I think Eric Conveys An Emotion is worth an explore. My favourite: Eric stares at his hands the way people in movies do when they've just killed their first person. Heh.
So it's a new month, and summer is definitely drawing to an end. Sigh. There was a discernible chill in the air today .. the nights are, as my Aberdonian mum would say, fair drawin' in .. and the shops are full of snuggly warm coats and jumpers. Now that I live in a country where it's properly cold, I don't look forward to the start of winter as a chance to get all my cute cold-weather duds out. No, no. I don't like winter in London at all. No comfortable warmth in any member, as that famous bloke said.
Anyway. I've not long got back from a nice long lunch with a colleague from Major Employer. This guy is a reliable source of scandal and intrigue, and we had a terrific time setting the world to rights. Heh. Then I see this story. Tom Cruise endorses a campaign to stop gossip. Nice idea, and all. But for people who make their living by being household names, isn't it all just a bit strange? I mean, if no-one gossiped about Tom Cruise or his work, would he make a sound? Ponder that for a while .. I'm off to go wash my mouth out. With Coke.
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