Naan-tonio Banderas!
Christina Sioux Sexy!
Bi-Becki romped with two BB men...and a woman!
Just a sample of some of the headlines featured in today's "The Sun" newspaper. I particularly like the last one. At least that fact that the new Big Brother housemate's sexuality is actually relevant to the news story.
What I really hate, and find kind of offensive, is the sensational way that the UK tabloids make reference to certain celebrities by their sexuality - "Camp Marco", "Transexual Nadia!", "Gay-le Winton!", etc. You never hear of Sol Campbell being referred to as "Straight-Sol", or Prince Harry as "Hetero-Harry" do you?
I couldn't help but wonder...if I were famous (more famous than I am already) - how would I be referred to by the British hacks?
"Camp Chris in Coke Fuelled Sex Binge!"
"Kinky Kinsey in Gay Gang-Bang Shocker!"
"Bum Bandit Chris in dirty dyke fight!"
Hmmm...I actually quite like this! Apart from the horror it would cause to my poor mum, dad and grandparents.
"'My shame!' - Gay Chris's mother speaks out"
Christopher once did not have the strength, but then he found it and stopped blogging. Many years later he's lost some of that strength and has since started blogging once more on a quest to get it back (or is that strength in, and of, itself?). He'll consider carrying people on his shoulders across water for money, or for free if they're brutally hot.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Only Gay Man in the Village
Not much time today for a proper blog entry (all day global strategy meeting for a client, yah?), so instead I will leave you all with this. Worth watching through to the end!
(For the Americans among you - this is from a TV show called Little Britain...cult gay viewing in the UK!!!)
Cheerio!
PS: Did anyone see that documentary on Channel 4 last night about that freaky kid who used to be an antiques expert at 10 years old and is now a transexual living in Wales? Brilliant TV!
(For the Americans among you - this is from a TV show called Little Britain...cult gay viewing in the UK!!!)
Cheerio!
PS: Did anyone see that documentary on Channel 4 last night about that freaky kid who used to be an antiques expert at 10 years old and is now a transexual living in Wales? Brilliant TV!
Monday, June 28, 2004
Um, er...
I get a huge amount of satisfaction from dressing down the suppliers that we use when they fuck up. I just got a cue sheet from a company that we are using to pitch a story to radio stations. The accompanying email asked that I obtain client approval within three and a half hours!
Joy! Now all of the general Monday morning frustration I have been feeling has been vented via an extremely patronising response - "approval in three and a half hours? Silly man!" Actually I didn't write that exactly but made it abundantly clear that I don't take well to receiving stupid approval requests!!! I guarantee that there are few PRs in this world who can get client approval in less than 24 hours!
Unless you work in PR you won't really appreciate all of that. But it leads me on to today's theme - why can't I ever construct a really catty response when I am put on the spot, in person? I can write the perfect put down email - not too bitchy, sly or aggressive...just condescending enough to make the recipient feel like a prize turnip. But on the spot? Nothing. I start to stammer and feel hot and my head races. And it is only when I walk away that the perfect response forms in my mind.
Wouldn't it be nice to be calm and collected and sufficiently self aware to respond to anything thrown at you? To be like Rebecca Loos? I only suggest her because it would have been nice to shag David Beckham as well as being articulate.
My friend Drew has a great put down (which he has, I might add, used on me, the bastard)...
Hint of a sympathetic smile, index finger to lips and...
"Shhh..."
Quote of the day...
"Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger and grief, than from those very things for which you are angry and grieved."
Marcus Antonius
And question of the day...
This weekend is London's gay pride march and festival. I am wondering - should I form and lead "Fags on Skateboards" to upsurp "Dykes on Bykes". It is probably the only way that I can get access to a cute gay skater dude.
Joy! Now all of the general Monday morning frustration I have been feeling has been vented via an extremely patronising response - "approval in three and a half hours? Silly man!" Actually I didn't write that exactly but made it abundantly clear that I don't take well to receiving stupid approval requests!!! I guarantee that there are few PRs in this world who can get client approval in less than 24 hours!
Unless you work in PR you won't really appreciate all of that. But it leads me on to today's theme - why can't I ever construct a really catty response when I am put on the spot, in person? I can write the perfect put down email - not too bitchy, sly or aggressive...just condescending enough to make the recipient feel like a prize turnip. But on the spot? Nothing. I start to stammer and feel hot and my head races. And it is only when I walk away that the perfect response forms in my mind.
Wouldn't it be nice to be calm and collected and sufficiently self aware to respond to anything thrown at you? To be like Rebecca Loos? I only suggest her because it would have been nice to shag David Beckham as well as being articulate.
My friend Drew has a great put down (which he has, I might add, used on me, the bastard)...
Hint of a sympathetic smile, index finger to lips and...
"Shhh..."
Quote of the day...
"Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger and grief, than from those very things for which you are angry and grieved."
Marcus Antonius
And question of the day...
This weekend is London's gay pride march and festival. I am wondering - should I form and lead "Fags on Skateboards" to upsurp "Dykes on Bykes". It is probably the only way that I can get access to a cute gay skater dude.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Daniel
When I was seventeen my best friend was this boy I went to sixth form with. His name was Daniel and he had shoulder length mousey hair, a quirky sense of humour and a smile that could light up the room. I thought he was magnificent!
Daniel was my first proper crush. Up until that point the only outlet my confused, teenage sexuality had was through staring at pictures of Roger Taylor from Duran Duran. There was never anything overtly sexual about the situations running through my mind - it was never wank fantasy stuff - just a feeling that I would be happy to just lie in his arms for a few minutes or even eternity.
My first physical encounter with a man is probably one of my most memorable, and not because it was sexual. It was because it was about an intimate closeness that was never really discussed. Forbidden, yet at the same time perfectly natural and understood.
One day I drove Daniel back to his house in Dilton Marsh and he seemed kinda down in the dumps. As we pulled up to the front of his house he turned to me and announced that he had ended his relationship with Emma, his girlfriend at the time. Again, teenage confusion exploded inside my head. That means I could have more of him, that he was more mine, that we could spend more time together. And then, "is he trying to tell me something else?" Externally I remained cool and said something like "I will always be there for you." At which point Daniel smiled and said the words...
"Can I hug you?"
Now these days that question would not phase me in the slightest, coming from anyone. I am a very tactile person and can even quite happily fall asleep in the same bed as a friend and spoon one another, with no misunderstandings about what it means. But at that point in my life I had had no physical contact with another man, ever. My father and I were not close when I was growing up, so hugging another man was just never on the cards.
So, in answer to Daniel's question, I said "yes" and we hugged. I can't remember for how long, but to this day I can still remember that feeling of completeness and how my heart flipped. I felt somehow whole. I have had that feeling with only two men since. We are told that it shouldn't be up to another person to complete your life, but in moments like the one I shared with Daniel it's hard to imagine why not.
Daniel and I never went any further than that hug. We both went to university and over the years we lost contact. I know that he became an actor and if you Google his name you can see that he was in a play called "Bodies in Flight". I think he lives in Poland. I once painted an Oscar statuette for him with the words "The first of many" written on the back. I wonder if he still has it?
Sometimes when I am smoking a cigarette I draw in the smoke and hold it in my lungs. I imagine it just sitting there in the warm darkness inside my body until it makes me feel claustrophobic at which point I exhale.
Daniel was my first proper crush. Up until that point the only outlet my confused, teenage sexuality had was through staring at pictures of Roger Taylor from Duran Duran. There was never anything overtly sexual about the situations running through my mind - it was never wank fantasy stuff - just a feeling that I would be happy to just lie in his arms for a few minutes or even eternity.
My first physical encounter with a man is probably one of my most memorable, and not because it was sexual. It was because it was about an intimate closeness that was never really discussed. Forbidden, yet at the same time perfectly natural and understood.
One day I drove Daniel back to his house in Dilton Marsh and he seemed kinda down in the dumps. As we pulled up to the front of his house he turned to me and announced that he had ended his relationship with Emma, his girlfriend at the time. Again, teenage confusion exploded inside my head. That means I could have more of him, that he was more mine, that we could spend more time together. And then, "is he trying to tell me something else?" Externally I remained cool and said something like "I will always be there for you." At which point Daniel smiled and said the words...
"Can I hug you?"
Now these days that question would not phase me in the slightest, coming from anyone. I am a very tactile person and can even quite happily fall asleep in the same bed as a friend and spoon one another, with no misunderstandings about what it means. But at that point in my life I had had no physical contact with another man, ever. My father and I were not close when I was growing up, so hugging another man was just never on the cards.
So, in answer to Daniel's question, I said "yes" and we hugged. I can't remember for how long, but to this day I can still remember that feeling of completeness and how my heart flipped. I felt somehow whole. I have had that feeling with only two men since. We are told that it shouldn't be up to another person to complete your life, but in moments like the one I shared with Daniel it's hard to imagine why not.
Daniel and I never went any further than that hug. We both went to university and over the years we lost contact. I know that he became an actor and if you Google his name you can see that he was in a play called "Bodies in Flight". I think he lives in Poland. I once painted an Oscar statuette for him with the words "The first of many" written on the back. I wonder if he still has it?
Sometimes when I am smoking a cigarette I draw in the smoke and hold it in my lungs. I imagine it just sitting there in the warm darkness inside my body until it makes me feel claustrophobic at which point I exhale.
Monday, June 21, 2004
New York on my mind...
It has been just over a month since I left the big apple. For the first few weeks my mind was on about three things and three things only - money, a roof over my head and a job.
Now that I have all three of those, my mind has begun to ponder on what I guess I will always call my home away from home. Especially my friends there. For those of you that read this, I miss you all so much and really hope to hear from you and see you all soon.
That's it for today...
Now that I have all three of those, my mind has begun to ponder on what I guess I will always call my home away from home. Especially my friends there. For those of you that read this, I miss you all so much and really hope to hear from you and see you all soon.
That's it for today...
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Bugger
I just had to turn down a two day trip in the French Alps because of my throat. I would have been running up hills and climbing trees and given that I am currently out of breath from running up the stairs...
Friday, June 18, 2004
I Can't.
Rough transcript of a conversation I just had with the company that has shipped my stuff over from the states (I am trying to arrange to have it delivered on Tuesday)...
Kelly: (Imagine a really stupid Essex girl accent) "Ello"
Me: (Imagine a really sexy, husky posh accent) "Hello. Is that Kelly?"
Kelly: "Yeah."
Me: "Oh, hi...hello. Now that my shipping has arrived at your warehouse I was wondering if I could arrange to have it delivered next Tuesday?"
Kelly: "Do you have your reference number?"
Me: "No - I'm afraid I lost the paperwork. I can give you all my other information, address and that kind of stuff"
Kelly: "I'll still need your reference number."
Me: "But I told you - I don't have it."
Kelly: "But we need it."
Me: "But I don't have it!"
Kelly: "Ok, then I suppose I'll need to do look it up myself."
Me: (incredulous) "Is that ok?"
On hold for about five minutes.
Kelly: "Ok. I have your reference number. To arrange delivery you'll need to pay the shipping fee first."
Me: "Ok, but can I pay by Solo?" (I know it's pikey, but I'm not allowed a Switch card yet cause I've been out of the country, alright?)
Kelly: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Kelly: "Because we don't accept Solo or Switch. Do you have a credit card?"
Me: "Not one that I can charge it to."
Kelly: "We need a credit card."
Me: "Could someone else call up with their credit card details to pay the fee?"
Kelly: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Kelly: "We just can't."
Me: "But I don't understand. Why does it matter who pays the bill? I'm trying to work with you here!"
Kelly: "We can only accept payment by credit card."
Me: (really losing my temper now) "Let me get this straight - there is no other way for me to pay except by credit card. Which I don't have. So how am I supposed to get my shipping?"
Kelly: "Well there is another way...you can do a bank transfer."
Me: "But you just said there wasn't another way, but ok."
We spend the next few minutes arranging the transfer details. I am finally getting somewhere now...
Me: "So when on Tuesday can you deliver?"
Kelly "We can't say. Anytime between 9am and 6pm."
Me: "..............."
Words...can't...describe...my anger. Heaving chest...flames...coming...out...of...the...side...of...my...face...
Going to Fiction tonight! Gonna dance my booty off!
Kelly: (Imagine a really stupid Essex girl accent) "Ello"
Me: (Imagine a really sexy, husky posh accent) "Hello. Is that Kelly?"
Kelly: "Yeah."
Me: "Oh, hi...hello. Now that my shipping has arrived at your warehouse I was wondering if I could arrange to have it delivered next Tuesday?"
Kelly: "Do you have your reference number?"
Me: "No - I'm afraid I lost the paperwork. I can give you all my other information, address and that kind of stuff"
Kelly: "I'll still need your reference number."
Me: "But I told you - I don't have it."
Kelly: "But we need it."
Me: "But I don't have it!"
Kelly: "Ok, then I suppose I'll need to do look it up myself."
Me: (incredulous) "Is that ok?"
On hold for about five minutes.
Kelly: "Ok. I have your reference number. To arrange delivery you'll need to pay the shipping fee first."
Me: "Ok, but can I pay by Solo?" (I know it's pikey, but I'm not allowed a Switch card yet cause I've been out of the country, alright?)
Kelly: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Kelly: "Because we don't accept Solo or Switch. Do you have a credit card?"
Me: "Not one that I can charge it to."
Kelly: "We need a credit card."
Me: "Could someone else call up with their credit card details to pay the fee?"
Kelly: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
Kelly: "We just can't."
Me: "But I don't understand. Why does it matter who pays the bill? I'm trying to work with you here!"
Kelly: "We can only accept payment by credit card."
Me: (really losing my temper now) "Let me get this straight - there is no other way for me to pay except by credit card. Which I don't have. So how am I supposed to get my shipping?"
Kelly: "Well there is another way...you can do a bank transfer."
Me: "But you just said there wasn't another way, but ok."
We spend the next few minutes arranging the transfer details. I am finally getting somewhere now...
Me: "So when on Tuesday can you deliver?"
Kelly "We can't say. Anytime between 9am and 6pm."
Me: "..............."
Words...can't...describe...my anger. Heaving chest...flames...coming...out...of...the...side...of...my...face...
Going to Fiction tonight! Gonna dance my booty off!
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Beef Curtains
So I was sat on our balcony this morning trying to coax myself out of sleep with a strong cup of coffee when I saw the weirdest thing.......a squirrel having a fight with a pidgeon! Honestly! The squirrel kept backing off but the pidgeon kept going for it. Isn't there something where you can write into The Times and report the first Robin of the year? I wonder if they would write about squizza / pidge fight club? Maybe not, because the first rule...etc.
Went to a meeting this morning in Hammersmith with Rich, Lucy and Jane and on the way back we all started having a filthy conversation about other words for, er, ladies downstairs bits - e.g. muff, beef curtains, flange, lettuce (I didn't get that last one).
Anyway, the conversation merged into our human resources manager drinking from the furry cup (lesbian) and then swiftly onto a radio programme I listened to the other day which was about the most offensive words in the English language. Number two was "cunt" (sorry ladies, but I LOVE this word, and I think you should empower yourselves by reclaiming it.) Of course the others wanted to know what the number one most offensive word was and because our cab driver was black and the word was "nigger" I had to make like I had forgotten, which they responded to in the negative by prodding me hard to remember. Anyway - I was blushing hard!
Before the cabbie drove off after dropping us off at work he leaned out of his window and told us that it had been one of the rudest jobs he had had in a long time and he was thoroughly looking forward to driving us again.
Nobody can do smut like the British.
Went to a meeting this morning in Hammersmith with Rich, Lucy and Jane and on the way back we all started having a filthy conversation about other words for, er, ladies downstairs bits - e.g. muff, beef curtains, flange, lettuce (I didn't get that last one).
Anyway, the conversation merged into our human resources manager drinking from the furry cup (lesbian) and then swiftly onto a radio programme I listened to the other day which was about the most offensive words in the English language. Number two was "cunt" (sorry ladies, but I LOVE this word, and I think you should empower yourselves by reclaiming it.) Of course the others wanted to know what the number one most offensive word was and because our cab driver was black and the word was "nigger" I had to make like I had forgotten, which they responded to in the negative by prodding me hard to remember. Anyway - I was blushing hard!
Before the cabbie drove off after dropping us off at work he leaned out of his window and told us that it had been one of the rudest jobs he had had in a long time and he was thoroughly looking forward to driving us again.
Nobody can do smut like the British.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
An Ounce of Pretention is Worth a Pound of Manure...
...or so the line goes - from one of my favourite movies, Steel Magnolias. And yes, for those of you who don't already know, I am a homosexual.
So I had a blog once before, but it died from neglect. Mainly because I forgot the login details during my transplant from New York to London. Silly me. But because some (two) of my friends said that the original Blog provided them with much mirth (one said it was Bridget Jones-like. I was actually going for Carrie Bradshaw, but ok), I have decided to 'revive' it.
And regarding the pretention reference, this is in reference to the title of my Blog. It was conceived in a moment of existential madness. But still...I pose the question to all my readers, and I encourage you to feed back to me, is anything really real?
Who cares. What you really want to hear about is...
What I had for lunch
My conquests
Stupid things my friends did
My point of view on pressing celebrity dilemmas
Who was at Fiction on Friday
How many press ups I can do at the gym (getting better by the day!)
What I think of Manchester United player, Christiano Ronaldo (phwoar)
I think I just made clear what I think of afore mentioned football player. Except his hair is crap. Yellow tipped highlights are SO October 2003.
And so on...
So I had a blog once before, but it died from neglect. Mainly because I forgot the login details during my transplant from New York to London. Silly me. But because some (two) of my friends said that the original Blog provided them with much mirth (one said it was Bridget Jones-like. I was actually going for Carrie Bradshaw, but ok), I have decided to 'revive' it.
And regarding the pretention reference, this is in reference to the title of my Blog. It was conceived in a moment of existential madness. But still...I pose the question to all my readers, and I encourage you to feed back to me, is anything really real?
Who cares. What you really want to hear about is...
What I had for lunch
My conquests
Stupid things my friends did
My point of view on pressing celebrity dilemmas
Who was at Fiction on Friday
How many press ups I can do at the gym (getting better by the day!)
What I think of Manchester United player, Christiano Ronaldo (phwoar)
I think I just made clear what I think of afore mentioned football player. Except his hair is crap. Yellow tipped highlights are SO October 2003.
And so on...
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