I'm not a shrinking violet...

I'm not afraid to wear my heart on my sleeve or be honest with the way I am feeling. I think most of my friends know that I have been in and out of therapy and on meds for depression for most of my adult life. And if you are reading this and you didn't know that, the chances are that you're not entirely surprised. One thing I am not is consistent, and I think everyone knows that. Consistency is a character trait that would serve me well, but alas, at 32 it is one that I have yet to master.

I began therapy when I was about 14. I developed an obsessive compulsive disorder where I had an irrational fear of germs, particularly that I would scratch myself and somehow contract HIV and die of AIDS. Ridiculous, I know, but bear in mind that I was a child of the Thatcher years and the government's scary campaign featuring tombstones slamming and smashing violently on the ground succeeded in entering my consciousness, frightening the living crap out of me.

Cut to almost eighteen years later, get to know me and and you'll note that I did get over those fears. I now have a healthy respect for HIV and AIDS and other similar boogie monsters. I have reached a point in my life where they don't loom over me. I do my best, I follow the wiser advice and I take my life into my own hands. But the question now is, did I get to that point as a result of the therapy or simply because I came to realise that you can't live in fear all your life (If you did, quite simply, you'd never have any fun.)

I may not be afraid of germs any more. I'd like to say that I am not afraid of anything. But the reality is that I am. I'm not afraid of getting run over by a bus but I do join the ranks of the kind of people who are afraid of the kinds of things such as always being alone and never finding the "one". Waking up and dreading the day ahead because there is one thought that you know will stalk you all day long, no matter what you do, no matter what you try to think. What if my job is completely pointless and therefore I, by default, am pointless? What if my friends don't really like me? Was the last time I was loved be the last time I will ever be loved?

Of course I know that the true answer to these questions is "No, no, no!" I know that deep, deep down inside. But that knowledge doesn't answer the contradiction - why don't I entirely believe it?

Over the years I have seen behavioral therapists, cognitive specialists, regular shrinks and general counselors. Despite this I have to say that I genuinely don't think that I am any more fucked up than the next person. The only reason I saw them was the determination to not be governed by a way of thinking that I could never change. Yes, I may have done some incredibly stupid things and as a result I have hurt a lot of people. I concede to that and I am learning to take responsibility for those actions. But I would argue that I know myself better than anyone. In all my years of being in therapy I have never had an epithany. I have never learned some dark or mystical secret about myself that I didn't already know. The task I set out to achieve has never been to make windows into my own heart. I know my heart. It doesn't need an explanation.

Recently my psychiatrist took me off my anti-depressants. She didn't lower the dosage, gradually weaning me off them...she just cut them out all together. This goes against every strong word of advice that I have ever been told by a doctor...never just stop your anti-depressants. So I never did. But this time I thought, "why the hell not?" So I followed the doctor's orders and I stopped. That was nearly three weeks ago. And astonishingly I don't feel any different, making me think that maybe I didn't ever need them in the first place. Perhaps they were a crutch? There is an argument to suggest that perhaps I have never actually been depressed. If anything I think that I actually suffer from prolonged grief. I don't like change and when things inevitably do, change that is, it can really, really get me down. I think if I had to put my finger on the button it would be just that - that I really, really HATE change and I am scared of the unknown.

So in addition to coming off the anti-depressants I have decided to stop something else. I have decided to stop my therapy once and for all. Like I said...it has never been revolutionary in helping me change my behaviour patterns and after eighteen years of being in it I can say, fairly confidently, that it is unlikely to start any time soon.

But I don't think that I can make these behavioral changes alone and I do think that I need outside help from someone. So after years of considering and shying away from it because of a combination of cost and scepticism, I have decided to undertake a course of hynotherapy. I have contacted the body that regulates hypnotherapists in the UK and have been recommended someone in London who they feel can help me "address and adjust." And for the first time in as long as I can remember, I am actually excited. This could really be something that could help me become the person that I want to be. Not make me be the person that I want to be, but help me. I am doing this for myself and for no one else and it feels great. In a way it's kind of working already.

Watch this space...

A recent blog entry...

but said in the words of a pimp...(can't think of anything to write today)

"Ah have, stupidly perhaps, agreed to do dis TV thin' wid ma best homie Helen. It be called "Deck Diners" 'n gets shown on UK Living. It be a bit like Street Date, but involves cookin' 'n a boat! We're filmin' dat shit da Monday afta next in Brighton 'n Ah be mad anxious about it! Basically Ah cook a meal wid a top chef (Ah has been told tha dude's name but dat shit escapes me right now) on da yacht, while Helen goes into town 'n cruises to find me a date to eat da meal Ah be preparin' with. Then tha byatch comes back, we swop, tha byatch makes desert wid da chef, while Ah find ha a date, know what I'm sayin'?

Now I'm not so worried about Helen choosin' me a date because tha byatch knows dat Ah just go fo looks as opposed to anythin' barely resemblin' a personality (not entirely true). Ah be worried because Ah mad don't think Ah has any idea what type of muthafucka dat Helen goes for, which be appallin' really. As Ah has said, tha byatch IS ma best homie 'n Ah has known ha fo gettin' on fo 15 years - 'n Ah has naw idea mad of da type of muthafucka dat tha byatch goes for.

Ah think Ah would has had a betta idea when we wuz both students. Tha byatch would has gone fo someone like Stu on Big Brother. Mmmm...Stu from Big Brother.. n' shit. Anyway.. n' shit. Ah be mad nervous dat tha byatch gots to choose someone mad handsome 'n lovely 'n dat Ah gots to pick ha a city wanka who'll tha byatch end up havin' dinna wid 'n mad hate. And then she'll hate me! Oh dear n' shit.

I'm also mad worried dat da microphones they put on us gots to pick up ma heavy breathin' Darth Vadar like throat issue, know what I'm sayin'?

Sorry, what did yo' ass say? Yo' ass want to know what Ah be doin' dis weekend? Well, let me tell you...Ah be goin' to Swansea to stay wid Vix's brotha 'n sit in tha dude's hot tub all weekend swiggin' beer! Yum!"

I don't particularly want to be someone else...

But every now and then I wonder what it must be like to be a woman. I don't particularly want all the messy bits. I don't particularly care for surfing the crimson tide once a month. But it would be nice to be a woman for maybe a few months.

It was my weekend away that prompted me to think this. I went to the Mumbles in Swansea to stay with my housemates brother. It was fun - I got to drive Vix's Golf down the whole way to Wales and got into Matt's hot tub on various occasions. We made sushi and ate it (as opposed to making sushi and not eating it) and drank mucho wine, sambuca and tequila.

Anyway, getting back to my point, I was very intrigued to watch my work colleague, Tasha, working her booty at the various dancy drink establishments we visited on Saturday night. Who says that guys don't like girls to be too forward. She was giving it some for sure and the kind of guys she was picking up - well. Let's just say that one was a life guard and also one tall drink of water!

Girls are so much more fierce than guys when they aggressively go out on the pull. They just ooze sex appeal and attitude. Guys just look like pissed wankers - all open necked shirts and silver buckled black shoes. trev's basically.

Anyway, if I could choose to be any woman it would probably be Uma Thurman in the Kill Bill movies, or Sigourney Weaver in the Aliens films. Not Halle Berry in Catwoman, as that looks like a pile of cat shit. I don't really want to brandish swords or kill evil space monsters (well, maybe I do), but I do want that kind of attitude that comes only from a fierce woman kicking serious butt. Somehow that attitude is something that I am unlikely to have.

My NYC buddy, Bill, saw Uma Thurman in the street the other day and told her that she looked a million dollars, to which she responded, "So do you honey!" COOL! I wish it had been me!

I'm in a bit of a panic...

I have, stupidly perhaps, agreed to do this TV thing with my best friend Helen.  It's called "Deck Diners" and gets shown on UK Living.  It's a bit like Street Date, but involves cooking and a boat!  We're filming it the Monday after next in Brighton and I am really anxious about it!

Basically I cook a meal with a top chef (I have been told his name but it escapes me right now) on the yacht, while Helen goes into town and cruises to find me a date to eat the meal I am preparing with.  Then she comes back, we swop, she makes desert with the chef, while I find her a date.

Now I'm not so worried about Helen choosing me a date because she knows that I just go for looks as opposed to anything barely resembling a personality (not entirely true).  I am worried because I really don't think I have any idea what type of guy that Helen goes for, which is appalling really.  As I have said, she IS my best friend and I have known her for getting on for 15 years - and I have no idea really of the type of guy that she goes for.  I think I would have had a better idea when we were both students.  She would have gone for someone like Stu on Big Brother. 

Mmmm...Stu from Big Brother...

Anyway...

I am really nervous that she will choose someone really handsome and lovely and that I will pick her a city wanker who'll she end up having dinner with and really hate.  And then she'll hate me!  Oh dear.

I'm also really worried that the microphones they put on us will pick up my heavy breathing Darth Vadar like throat issue.

Sorry, what did you say?  You want to know what I am doing this weekend?  Well, let me tell you...I am going to Swansea to stay with Vix's brother and sit in his hot tub all weekend swigging beer!  Yum!

I want to be a Daddy

So last night I went with my work colleague Alison to Clare's house for dinner - another person I used to work with before she went on maternity leave to have her baby.

The baby, Charlie, was beautiful. I held him a couple of times while his Mum, Clare, made us supper. It made me come over all paternal, especially as he was so sleepy and kept resting his head on my chest! Cuteness personified! Until he puked up.

It's the thing that I've wanted more than anything in my life - to be a Dad. I even have names picked - Ethan for a boy, Elizabeth for a girl. Although for very obvious reasons it is unlikely that this dream will ever come true. I don't really know any lesbians or single female friends who would be willing to put up with me as father of their children. But I think that I would make a good dad. I think I have a good grasp of the things that are important in life. I think though that I would want to be in a relationship though, before taking on such an important role.

Anyway - it's all a bit of daydreaming really. It's nice to pick up someone else's baby, but having one to look after around the clock has got to be something different altogether.

Because I grew up there I tend to be a bit flippant about my home town of Bath.   But taking other people there always reinvigorated my passion for the small city.

This weekend I took Drew back for a relaxed weekend.  And a relaxed weekend we had indeed.  It was nice to see Mum and grandparents and my friend Jon, all of whom went to the trouble to cook and make us very welcome.

Friday I made the mistake of forgetting the all important proof of address, so that I couldn't hire the rental car until I had spent £50 on a round trip back to Clapham South to get it.  Very annoying, but not unlike me in so many ways.  I read the rental agreement I thought, but apparently not well enough.

Anyway - eventually got to Bath at around 10.30pm!  Mum had made us supper which was well received despite our sneaking in a crafty snack at Fleet service stations.  After supper we went to bed, but I managed to keep Drew awake with my snoring for most of the night!

Saturday the two of us went into Bath for drinks and shopping.  I was on the look out for a very fetching pair of pink Converse trainers, but unfortunately Bath is too conservative to have such footwear.  So I had to make do with spending my money on barbecue implements for my mother.

Saturday night we had a barbecue at Mum's house, with my godparents and Mum's latest fling - some short guy who looks like Sean Connery.  Turns out that the guy had bought Mum "gifts" and presented them to her before she gave him the "I don't think that this is going to work" speech.  Poor guy!  Turns out he was just a little too short!

Then Sunday was spent sleeping in till late before going to Grandma's and Grandpa's for tea and cake, before driving to Marlborough to have late lunch / early supper with my friends Jon and James.  Had a fun afternoon throwing balls for their dog Moschi.  I still have the scratch marks up my arms.

The drive back to London was not very eventful, except for the traffic.  Was in a jam practically from Reading right the way into London.  Drew kept me insane by reciting well known show tunes, as the iPod died around the Hungerford area.

Anyway - missed the drop off appointment for the car, so while I had a relaxed time over the weekend, I had to get up early to get the car back and get to work on time.

Beautiful Bath

 
Me and me buddy Drew are driving down to my home town of Bath this evening for a nice relaxed kick back.  Mum is making a lovely cheesy pasta dish and I'm sure the dogs will try to eat it from our laps.

Home sweet home!

Surgery

So I went to the hospital yesterday afternoon.  Got there one hour before my appointment thinking that I would beat them at their own game, but still I was waiting for over an hour and a half before I actually got seen by this very nice, but very nervous Swedish doctor called Ilka.  When I convulsed into coughing fits when she squirted Thorocaine, or something like that, up my nose she nearly recoiled across the room.

So anyway - anyone who knows me is aware that I am about at the end of my tether with regards to my throat.  I mean I can't do anything that requires any exersion lest I collapse with breathlessness.  I will do almost anything to get past this hurdle, with the exception of quitting smoking.

I basically have three options:

1) leave everything and let it get better by itself (which will take time)

2) have some kind of laser surgery where they laser away part of my vocal chord, leaving me with a permanently husky voice (not so bad)

3) have a tracheotomy

The third option is really upsetting to me...I mean there is no way on EARTH, that I am having a frikkin hole drilled into my windpipe!  Now I know the hole wouldn't be there forever, but the frikkin scar would be and I would have people always asking me why I have a huge scar on my throat.  And I am getting really irritated with the doctors when they keep highlighting this as an option, especially when my answer is always a distinct and rabid "NO! NO WAY! NOT EVER!"  Argh!  It puts the fear of god in me.

Anyway - the outcome was that my vocal chords have got better enough for the doctors to sway in favor of the "lets just wait and see."  This means that I have to go back for another consult in November when they can see what a difference four months can make.  Hmm.  I guess cutting out smoking would help after all.

After the hospital I came back to work to discover that there had been a power cut and that we could go home early.  So went home, hired a DVD (Cold Creek Manor with Sharon Stone), watched it and fell asleep on the sofa.  Missed Chicken Stu and Michelle shagging on Big Brother.  Damn.

My throat

So this afternoon I am going back to the specialist at Guy's to have my throat re-examined.  As most of you know, I have been sounding somewhat like Darth Vadar for the past four months and I am just about sick of it.  I tried running at the gym a few weeks ago and nearly keeled over with breathlessness!!!
 
It's actually really unpleasant.  They stick this camera thing (endoscope?) up my nose and then down so that they can see my vocal chords.  It doesn't hurt exactly...it's just a really uncomfortable experience.
 
Hopefully they will be able to do something about it without the need to operate, but somehow I doubt it.  I KNOW that part of the reason it's not getting better is because I have not given up smoking (which they told me to do), but they just don't get how hard it is!  You see I have tried everything apart from hypnotherapy.  Nothing works!  Besides, I am not in a place where I feel like I can give up smoking at the moment.
 
Please god!  I just want to be able to change my voicemail message each morning without having to gasp for breath!!!

I am very dissapointed to learn that...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Bottom Feeding TV

I just read that Fox is developing a reality series in which a young woman will try to figure out which of 16 men is actually her father.  
 
Reminds me of Phoebe Cates' fabulous line from TV movie Lace - "Which one of you bitches is my mother?"

The weekend...

...was good and bad in equal measures.  Friday night I threw caution to the wind and withdrew £100 and managed to blow it in various stages throughout the night.
 
Part une was spent at Revolution on Clapham High Street with some work buddies, before moving on to Part Deux, at home, with Lindsay and Vix - and pizza, wine and Big Bro eviction.  God riddance Ahmed.  I hate the fact that I am addicted to that programme, but hell I am, so I just have to get over it.
 
Part trois was spent at Fiction.  Took me an hour to get there on the Northern Line and then another twenty minutes to get in.  Found Drew et al immediately which was good.  Proceeded to, er, get off my face and dance the night away.  Left at 5am with a bunch of people I had not met before and got driven to a chill out in Crouch End (pronounced "Crew-shond" if you want to pretend that it is posh).
 
Slept in some strange boys bed until 4.30pm and then left to get back home.  Had to take a bus to get to the nearest tube station which I hate, hate, hate doing.  I mean, I would never live somewhere where I would have to get a bus to the tube.  It's bad enough having to walk ten minutes to the tube, without having the hassle of rushing for the next available seat whenever anyone stands up.  The Mirror provided interesting reading (not).
 
Anyway - a nice evening ensued.  Managed to get Vix to agree to watch Kill Bill Vol.1.  Had to really twist her arm though, but she agreed in the end and actually really liked it!  Which I knew she would.  And then drew came round afterwards and we watched it all over again.  I think I've seen that movie about ten times now or something ridiculous.  And I think I am seeing the follow up tonight, again, for like the fifth time!  Anyway - ended up in bed at 3am!
 
Sunday was spent lying on the sofa feeling a bit sorry for myself.  The arse end of the weekend.  Watched another movie - In The Cut, with Meg Ryan.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there is a scene where this woman gives a guy a blow job and they actually show it in full detail!  A Meg Ryan movie!  Shocker!
 
Another installment of Big Brother - my favourite of the week, because it features the psychologists analysis of the housemates behaviour - before bedtime.
 
Didn't sleep well last night - too hot and kept thinking about the kind of stuff that can only be described as that of the remnants of a heavy night out.  And then had weird dreams where I was picking paint off my bedroom wall. Probably something to do with the Irish Brie I ate during the afternoon.

When love comes as a complete surprise...

One summer night in 1995, I went, with my friend Tim, to see a great little film called Before Sunrise, which starred the French actress Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke.
 
It is the story of an American boy and a French girl and the fourteen hours they spend together in Vienna "Before Sunrise", when they must part company and go back to their own separate lives.  It's a really gentle film which is entirely based in dialogue and characterisation.  They discuss themselves, life and philosophical ideas in such an organic way that you can just imagine that this is something real that could actually happen to you - not some schmaltzy Hollywood crap.
 
So anyway - at the end of the movie they say goodbye but rather than staying in touch and ruining the magic that they have created, they make a pact to meet in six months to the day on the same train platform at the same time.  And that is where the story ends.
 
So for the last nine years I have been wondering what happened to them.  Did they meet again?  Did only one of them turn up?  I'm soon to find out because the sequel (Before Sunset) is out next Friday!!!  Yippee!
 
I read an article with Julie Delpy, where she said that herself, Hawke and the director of the sequel and the original, Richard Linklater, were compelled to write the follow up because they felt that a piece of them was missing without that ultimate resolution - did they meet again?  There was also a quote from Ethan Hawke which really resonated with me...
 
"Our life doesn't work in such a clean narrative as most movies do. This makes us think that our lives are boring because our lives and even our relationships don't have a beginning, a middle and an end. It's never as clear as all that. It's so much more amorphous. What we're aspiring to do is capture what it's really like to be alive, to take naturalism to a new, heightened degree."
 
I guess the reason that this quote got to me, was because it grapples with the idea that we are something so much more than the sum of our parts.  What a great idea that we have no beginning, middle and end!  That means that life is full of endless possibilities and that anything might happen.  It sounds like a cliche, but cliches are cliches because out of all the things that have been said they are the things that have held true.
 
I've just been talking to my friend Bill about how, after my relationship with Will, that I want to take myself off the shelf for a while.  But isn't it in the moments when you're not looking, that life gently taps you on the shoulder and reminds you what it's all about, again? You might think that at 31 years of age this is something that should be plainly obvious to me, but it's easy to lose sight of the real things. 
 
I am going to go out tonight, and I am going to go out without agenda.  I am neither available nor unavailable.  If I go home alone I am not a failure.  If I meet someone cute, I don't have to sleep with them.  I can just give them my number.  
 
Because at the end of the day I could just have some fun with my friends and that could be enough.  That's about as real as it gets!

The Internet is for Techies and Paedophiles

...or so the saying goes (I think that was a Sarah Michelle Gellar quote from Cruel Intentions).

So in my desperation (actually it was a friend - you know who you are (!) - that bought brought my attention to it, or rather "reminded" me) I have subscribed to Gaydar. Now for those of you who are uninitiated into the murky, lascivious world of gay internet dating, there are two things you should know:

The first is that it is murky.

The second is that it is lascivious.

In the twenty four hours that I have had my profile up on the site I have been "viewed" (at the time of writing this) 153 times. I have been messaged by interested parties fifteen times. Out of those fifteen only one was cute. All the rest were the kind of people who describe themselves as "Abercrombieboy". Your initial instinct is to conjure up a buff Bruce Weber model in ripped cargo pants and nothing else. Disappointment quickly ensues.

Then there are those who seem to be nice enough at first glance, but then on further investigation have dropped the word "fisting" into their list of interests. Er...no thanks.

And then there are the guys who look married (and, no, I am not into that. Married men, who are probably gay, tend to have rather obvious commitment issues) and those that are for want of a better descriptor, gross. We're talking about back hair. Of a length that could be platted.

So twenty four hours later I am thinking that I should unsubscribe. I can't think of anyone who met their life partner on line. I mean there must be some couples out there, but I've never met any. Although if I did I am sure that they probably lie and say that they met on the main dancefloor at Heaven, which let's face it, is SOOO much better!

Lady M's Pleasure Death

Scene 1

Scene opens. Camera moving through the grand parlor of miss agatha’s country manor and pans down to a dead female body on the floor.

Agatha someone finally took care of that bitch

Camera pans up to a smart looking older woman standing over the body

Agatha question is…..which bitch killed this bitch.


Scene 2

Agatha The murderer is here, in this room, but which one of you is the murderer in this room?

Heinrich I just came from winning twelve million dollars in monte carlo this weekend. What do you mean I can’t leave this house? After all is it Rosh Hashana?

Alexis Look! I told that bitch not to write that children’s book. I knew after seeing her filth in that Sag Harbor bookshop, that the bitch is finished.

Christina I told the bitch that I’d be back, Miss Honey, Miss Honey.

Alexis Look you twat! My name is not Miss Honey, twat! It’s Alexis de la Nuit! I am the CEO of fashion fury, so you better just watch that sweet ass of yours!

Agatha Now listen here! Christina, Alexis, Heinrich and even the maid Consualas despised Lady M w/ hatred absolute! She fucked all of you over at one time or another either stealing your money or your husbands and even your pool boys.

I realise that a lot of you hags are older than this pre fabricated house that was built in 1916 and that is pre fabricated.

Looks at wristwatch and kind of under her breath says…

Agatha Where is that cunt Consuelo with my Mai Tai? I told that bitch to have cocktails ready half and hour ago.

Looks graciously and voluptuously at her guests…

Agatha The Mai Tai’s will be here shortly. I hope you have settled into your weekend quarters. In the meantime lets get to the bottom of this. But before that, has anyone seen my pruning shears.

Vacant expressions from everyone

Agatha Well anyway! I am going to start with you…!

Points to Alexis

I am starting with you and I would like to know where you have been in the last hour!

Alexis All I know is that I was up in my room with my porter and at first glance into the grand bathroom of the master suite I spied a little white dildo. Imagine my surprise that Agatha had left dildos in each of the guest bathrooms. It was at that very moment that I heard someone shrill from the garden “Christina! Bring me the axe!”

Christina Well in my defense, as you all know, I am the queen of landscaping and home décor, and the gardener was calling me to help him trim Agatha’s bush….es…

Alexis Well I am just reporting what I heard bitch!

Christina Well! As for me I have just been going over your grounds Agatha and making changes to your bush…where I see fit! Because as we agreed earlier I am bringing my TV crew out here to film a segment from my yummy steamy TV show “How to Live Like Me!” and imagine my shock when I turned up today and saw how hideous this place is. Agatha – everything about you is dowdy and plain. So I have been frantically running around trying to get this place ready for prime time, bitch! And as I’ve told you before, tear down this bitch of a wall and put a window where it ought to be!!

Consuelo enters with the Mai-Tais.

Consuelo Buenos tardes senores. Dengo los Mai Tais.

Everyone gives vacant expressions

Consuela Soz! I fahgot I want in me ome land mexico, innit!!! What’s your poison luv!?

Agatha I we need to hear from you Consuela!? Where have you been in the last hour?

Consuela I have been playing volleyball in the backyard…au naturel! For the last half hour all I have had is balls flying in my face!

Agatha (Under her breath) That Lucky Bitch.

Christina Can we get on with this. The body is beginning to really smell bad.

Alexis No…that’s just the stench of your designer imposter perfume.

Christina Whatever! I’ve Had enough! I’m going to Hollywood!

Agatha Not so fast Miss Honey! I’m not through with you bitches just yet! (looking at Christina and Alexis) Now listen! Broadway doesn’t go for booze and dolls! It took me 15 years to get on top where I am and I’m not going to let some little hussy’s edge in on my terrain.

Heinrich What about Heinrich!

Agatha You are Heinrich, you bitch!

Heinrich Yes! So…(pauses, confused) what about me? Well, I have been in my vestibule feeling my wad with a dry martini. I am just a wealthy German industrialist, not a spiteful bitch like you 4 spiteful bitches.

Agatha crouches down next to the body and picks something up.

Agatha It is my belief, as a forensic scientist slash fashion stylist to the stars (aside, such as Nicole, Salma and The Olsen Twins) that this women has been (long pause) pleasured…..to death!!!

Heinrich Oh mein god! Are you saying that this was a death? By pleasure?

Alexis That bitch stole my dildo!

Christina Fidle dee dee!

Consuela Dios mios! Ah mean…fuckin pike!

Agatha But not…by her own hand!

Alexis Show us the evidence!

Agatha holds up a white dildo with blood on it and shows it to everyone!

Everyone responds according to character

Agatha It is my belief that Alexis had the most to gain from Lady M’s pleasure death!

Christina Oh No She Didn’t!!

Consuela But my lady she always use the cucumbers from when I come back from market.

Heinrich But that means nothing! We each had a dildo! How do we know who’s dildo was used on Lady M?

Agatha But if you look closely at your dildos, you will realise that they are brand new – each comes with a rotating shaft, multi speeds, and additional attachments. But Lady M was a woman of simple pleasures and her dildo was just a whittled down stump of wood. So this was NOT her dildo, which pleasured her to death!

Alexis I dare you, Agatha, to prove my guilt.. Just try you bitch!

Agatha OK! You accused Lady M of stealing your hand bag sized vibrator and you say that you were in your room unpacking your Luis Vuitton luggage.

Five hours later……

Agatha Now listen kiddies, this aint my first time at the rodeo. I want everyone in this room who’s concealing a dildo to whip it out. We’re gonna compare sizes….

Everyone pulls out “dildo” going around the room, Alexis pulls out a whittled piece of wood. Everyone GASPS!!!!

Christina Miss Honey! Miss Honey! I told the bitch that I was right! Miss Honey!

Alexis So, you found me out you bitches. But you all hated lady M as much as I did. And face it, your Happy that one of us took care of that bitch and we’re better off w/out her!!

Agatha Hhhhmmmm.. Good point!

(ponders this thought for a moment, then holding up her mai tai)

Agatha Heres to Alexis for taking care of that bitch, Lady M.

Everyone “To Alexis!!”

Fin

What a strange weekend I had. Started off on Friday night with a party thingamijig at the Architects Association in Bedford Square. It was a tented do where you could but bottles of German "champagne" for about £14. So I did. Twice. Proceeded to get extraordinarily drunk and embarrass myself by whispering "Touch pas ma Chat" into the ear of anyone willing to hear.

From the architects party I went to Shadow Lounge with some guy that I had only just met, but seemed nice enough, and we managed to put away a good few Vodka and Cokes. By this point I was pretty annoying actually and managed to do the head in of one of my other friends who will probably want to be left out of this one!

Spent Saturday moaning and groaning in bed, trying to wear the hangover off by drinking shed loads of water. Literally slept the whole day through!

Sunday got up about lunchtime feeling very sorry for myself, until Vix dragged me out of the house by my ear. Went to see Fahrenheittt 9/11 which is practically the most extraordinary film experience I have ever had. Three words:

George
Bush
Moron

Feel like Crap

Lying on a pavement. That kind of crap that has gone hard and crisp in the sun.

Big Bother

Tonight my friend Will (I could say ex-boyfriend, but that sounds so horrible) is going to enter the US Big Brother house in Los Angeles. He will be up against seven other men and seven women to win the $500,000 grand prize - if he stays in until the end, at the back end of September.

Not that I am prejudiced or anything, but having checked out the other contestants biogs I really think that Will has one of the best shots at winning!

It's gonna be hard though to know everything he does and know exactly where he is for three months. I'm gonna miss him in the weirdest way. I'm gonna want to call him so badly to tell him to watch his back.

I started checking all these internet chat rooms and sites where he is discussed endlessly and I have to say that it also goes down as one of the weirdest experiences. It's like one of your best friends becoming famous and a little part of you questions how well you know him, when all these other people - who are of course perfect strangers - discuss him like a long lost friend. And all I want to do is shout "No! You don't know him! He's Will and he's great in a way that you will never see on TV!"

Fame is a strange thing - it does strange things to people. But I think that Will is one of the lucky ones who will walk in and be true to himself and come out with his head held high. And if he changes into a Z list celeb wanker I will beat him viciously with a wet fish!

So lets all give Will our best wishes as he goes down possibly the most colourful, yet twisted road he'll ever venture onto. Go...go...go...Will!!! But come back again!

Now the fact that he lied to me and told me that he was going on Survivor is a different matter altogether. He will pay dearly for that upon his return!!! ;)

Adam Sommerhause

Now stop moaning!

Hot Gossip

So the last two jokes that I posted were actually from Popbitch - a down and dirty celebrity gossip bulletin that I get sent every week. It's the kind of stuff that gentile "Heat" readers would balk at - e.g. shots of Dane Bowers having a wank. Nice.

This is the thing. I like to think of myself as a fairly together, secure, intelligent kinda guy. Sure, slightly neurotic with a penchant for blowing certain situations completely out of proportion, but on the whole well-rounded. So why do I eat up celebrity gossip and trash like it was going out of fashion - which it isn't. And the stupid thing is that these celeb magazines actively annoy me, but I keep going back for more.

The thing that really gets me going is when they make out that someone is ugly because named celeb flashed their knickers as they stepped out of a car, or that someone has cellulite, when you can see that the picture has been doctored in some way. I DON'T CARE! So why do I go back for more.

And why do I feel that it is my moral obligation to stick up for said celebrities as if I am some kind of celeb crusader. I really don't like most of them anyway. With the exception of Uma Thurman.

Anyway. I'm hungry.

Another lewd joke!

A pirate walks into a bar with his fly open, holding a steering wheel that's fastened to his cock.

The bartender says "Hey mate, you know you've got a steering wheel on your cock?"

"Aye," says the pirate, "it's been drivin' me nuts all day."

Sorry...

Lewd Joke

I'll be back later for a proper entry but I had to first bring attention to this fabulous joke...

Victoria Beckham has just broken the world Gang Bang record. In 120 minutes her shaved cunt fucked the whole country. (Boom - boom.)

(Yanks - reference to David Beckham kicking the ball wide of the goal during a European Soccer match)

Balderdash

...not a word I get to use very often in every day life.

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

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"

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!

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.

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.

Colin has a big one...

Look! No, not there! There!

Loving number twenty!

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...

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...

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!

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.

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...

It's snowing. Fuck.

My very good friend Dustin is in Toronto. Poor boy. He asked if he could become famous by my mentioning him in my blog (probably just an attempt to get laid). Dustin has just moved companies and is not happy where he is, so we should all say a little prayer for him that he finds something more suitable soon.

There is of course his "other" job!!!

Why is it when your boyfriend doesn't call one evening, when he usually calls every evening your mind instant considers catastrophe? Now should I call him or should I wait for him to call me. The fact that he worked like a crazy person yesterday has nothing to do with it.

So in the last few weeks my life has somewhat gone to pot. Having a boyfriend kinda does that to you I think. At the beginning you put everything into the relationship forgetting that you have this whole other life as well.

So, from today I am determined to everything back to rights. I have bought my gym kit in this morning so I can work out at lunchtime. My lunch today will be a large protein shake. I have bought a week pass for Will's gym at Columbus Circle so that when I leave his tomorrow morning I can work out there.

On the subway I started reading the book I started reading back in January "Life of Pi" (quite good actually).

I am also going to email all the people that I have let fall by the wayside. And I won't be writing a template email that I can send to everyone!

Am very excited by the next installment of America's Next Top Model tonight. The race is getting hotter and the bitchiness is running amok!

Work has been making me feel so anxious to the point where I can't sleep. So off I trotted to the doctor today to get some Lorazepam to chill me out. Only that I should have taken one and not two.

Now the room is slightly hazy and everything feels slightly like Jelly. I feel like I am trapped in a hippy sixties movie.

Again I am in a funk, but not as bad as yesterday. I am nursing a cup of coffee to wake me up. Stayed at Will's last night and slept like a log, which was good.

I haven't been to the gym now for almost a month and it is really beginning to show. It's just that work is so awful during the day that working out is the last thing that I want to do when I get home.

I need some excitment (of a good kind) to make this blog more interesting.

I am in the biggest funk today. I took yesterday off as a sick day, as I was genuinely ill. Will nursed me a little bit, but then Oprah came on TV and that was that.

Work sucks. My boss is making me do things that I would rather not - saying things to people that I would rather not say.

The only good thing about today is that the weather is gorgeous - 60 degrees. That is freakishly warm for New York in March. I remember this time last year, my face nearly fell off from the cold.

Christopher's Acceptance Speech for the Best Complexion in a Documentary Oscar:

Thank you! Oh! Thank you! I can hardly believe this! I feel so coked-up! And this statue - it's so suspiciously phallic! Oh, thank you again! I just want everyone to bow down before me and accept that even in my wildest fits of self-loathing, I never would have frantically prayed that this could ever validate my mediocrity. And to the other closeted homosexual nominees, I want each of you to know how totally mega-pumped your crushing defeat makes me feel right now!

You know when they first told me I was n't blonde enough, I just had to take a Xanax and brag about how generous my love scenes have been. I guess it all just makes me feel kinda cheap

You know, there are so many obsequious little people to thank! First off though, I want to thank the esteemed idiots of the Academy, who looked deep within their cold, black hearts before giving me this fantastic award! Also, I want to thank Vishnu, for being such a powerful force in my contract negotiations. And to the hooker with the heart of gold, who taught me to take life by the fifth of bourbon. And finally, to all the sycophantic talk show hosts - I couldn't have done it without you!

Thank you America, and good night!

Will has the most peculiar sleeping habits:

A) He has to sleep with two "blankies" that he has had since he was a baby. They have never been washed, ever (yet smell strangely clean) and are so thin that you think you could tear them with even the most gentle of a brush. He always takes one with him if he has to leave town, but does it on rotation so that one of the blankies doesn't feel left out.

B) He has to sleep with a huge long pillow between his legs and this pillow is not a pleasant sight. It is kind of brown in colour and features what look like coffee stains. I really hope that's all they are.

C) The air conditioner must be set to noisily pump out cold air (and New York is anything but warm right now!!)

D) A huge fan in the corner on must be turned on full

E) a noise maker in the corner of the room has to be set to white noise (which is admittedly much better than the sea rushing or the sounds of birds chirping in a forest, which are the other noises the machine can make)

With anyone else I would find these things extremely peculiar and would probably have to say "goodbye". But with Will I find them incredibly endearing and it has got to the point where I find all the noise very comforting and can actually sleep right through it (although last night I did take a Xanax and am still feeling a bit doped up even after a very strong cup of coffee).

He is apparently buying me a noise maker.

Anyway...he left at 6am this morning for his shift at the hospital and left me a note saying (I got up at 8.30am):

"WAKE UP!!! By now I have already resuscitated five people, given eight enemas and had six cups of weak hospital coffee! Get a move on boy!"

This is me: by the time you lot have read this I will have eaten half a chocolate pie that Will cooked last night, drank a cup of coffee, entered this weeks time into the company time sheet program and written this blog. This has taken an hour and a half.

Somehow Will's job seems so much more worthy than mine. I don't mind, however, that I don't have to perform urinary catheter procedures on morbidly obese women who can't pee. He literally has to fish around in their...erm....

So Will and I had the "chat" (in a good way) on Friday and we are officially "boyfriends". I am in that secure place now where I can stop worrying about stuff. I can think about Valentine's Day now without worrying about jinxing it!

I am wearing his school soccer top today which is a tight fit and shows off my chest to good advantage. Only thing is the armpits are a bit pongy, but that's ok. It has his surname on the back which is really cute and the girls are taking the piss out of me!

Am off to Chicago on Wednesday to do site checks for this event we are doing at the end of Feb. I am going to the Sears tower to see the space on the 99th floor. Am very excited cause I LOVE tall buildings...

There is an episode of SATC (yes, yes, yes - most of you are aware now that the program is my cultural and spiritual guide, bordering slightly on the obsessive) where Carrie ponders over what makes a good telephone call to that special someone. Especially what makes a good voicemail.

Well I have decided that I do not do good voicemail. It usually goes something like this...

"Hey Will. It's me. Christopher (as if I have to say this as my very British accent tends to give the game away). Anyway, er, I was just ringing to say that I am at work and I'm bored (big mistake - never say you are bored. It makes it sound like you only want to speak to them when you are bored). I've done everything that I was supposed to do and now I am looking at internet porn. Anyway - if you are bored too, call me back"

It sounds soooo weak! And I hate the word "anyway".

The problem is that voicemails put you on a little podium. For ten seconds or so you are required to be spontaneously witty, and while I can be spontaneous, I like it to be on my terms. Maybe I need to start creating a dialogue in my head before I call. Assume that I will get Will's voicemail. Especially as he works in the ER and can't have his phone switched on, because it could affect a heart monitor and kill someone. (I still LOVE the fact that he an ER nurse. He is like Dr. Carter. At least in my head).

I found out the other day that one of Will's nicknames is Buck.

I really want to see "Along Came Polly" (currently America's No.1 movie). The scene with the blind ferret hitting the trash can still makes me laugh out loud.

I was in staying in and saving money mode last night. Except that the saving money bit was a bit of a joke after I spent $120 on prescriptions (you have to do co-pays here - make me miss the NHS!) and then $20 on laundry!!!

Watched the Apprentice which I am slowly becoming addicted to!

Yesterday morning I met my friend James from the UK for breakfast. Mark my boss (the devil incarnate) joined us and we had a good old chinwag about David Beckham and Victoria Beckham and how their marriage is going a bit rocky due to David living in Madrid and Victoria hating the city (James does the PR for both Becks).

On the way back to the office Mark asked me if I still fancied moving to LA. My answer was very clear. No. Not ever. Not. I found this particularly unnerving as I really feel that I have made a home for myself in New York - I have my urban family, and I don't want to give it up in the slightest!

Will sent me an email this saying that he missed me last night. Awww.

I have always wanted to be known by CK or CJ (in the style of Allison Janney in The West Wing - also a fabulous PR person, not that our jobs are that similar, given that I don't work for the president).

However, recently my moniker seems to have become Pherk (christoPHERK) thanks to my friend Bill! While not CJ, I actually quite like it, because said in the right way it kinda sounds like "fuck".

Actually, maybe that isn't so great.

Anyway - came back from Miami two days earlier than expected due to the HUGE amount of money I spent in two days of being there. $400. Bugger. So now I am on a massive economy drive for the rest of the month, which really sucks, cause when you are dating someone new, you like to splash out and pretend that, yes, you do know the staff at Nobu, because, yes, you do eat there twice a week.

Anyway, with my two days off I spent quality time with Will. Went out on Monday night for dinner at Elmo before going a party at Sugar (round the block from where I live) to support Will's friend, Erikson (yet another cool name) and his new DJ'ing gig on Monday night. The bar was quite quiet, so not a HUGE success, but Will and I had fun putting vodka's down our throats.

Woke up at Will's yesterday morning and we lounged in bed and played kissypoo. Then we went to eat at this excellent Thai restaurant before going to see Concorde at the Intrepid museum. For those of you who don't know BA lent a Concorde to the museum, ad infinitum, last month. I think that it was sadly ironic that it was bought to it's new home on the West side, on the Hudson, by a slow boat. That said, it was quite a sight to see Concorde being floated up the Hudson.

After Concorde we went to see "Monster", which, if you haven't seen it, is great. The movie was really emotionally taxing (not exactly a date movie), but Charlize Theron was SO good (and also unrecognizable) as serial killer Aileen Wuornos - she totally deserves the Oscar.

Then after the movie Will showed me his domestic goddess skills by cooking me Macaroni Cheese after which we watched the latest installment of American Idol.

I am so confused by people who enter the competition - I mean there are these people who are REALLY bad singers - and I mean REALLY, REALLY bad. Why do they enter and humiliate themselves on national TV? Why? I find it incredible that they really believe that they have these great voices, which in the words of one contender, believe that they "want to share with the nation!"

However, the thought of one of these people winning American Idol is quite brilliant. Maybe, however unlikely, Simon Cowell will think someone is so avant garde that they will see them through.

My first day in Miami has been uneventful but relaxing and most satisfying on the eyes.

Spent most of the day on South Beach (the gay bit) and got FRIED! In a good way - my skin is subtly rouge, rather than RED!

Can't be bothered to write any more. Am feeling monged out! Bleurgh.

In days of yore, when courting someone, it was appropriate to buy red roses or, if you were very wealthy, to present your loved one with jewelry - a signature cut canary diamond necklace and earring set from Harry Winston.

In today's world a custom made CD, full of carefully chosen songs, is the perfect dating gift. And yesterday evening I got not one but two from Will, with an appropriate card wishing me all the best for my trip to Miami. Aw shucks! And I am only going for four and a half days. He really makes me all misty eyed, ya know.

Anyway - once I got over the gorgeous thoughtfulness, I began looking at the chosen song titles in more detail and began to ponder over their deeper significance:

"I Want Your Sex" by George Michael - good.
"Hot White Cum" by Liz Phair - tres bon.
"Say Goodbye" by Dave Matthews - bad.
"How Many Lix" by Lil' Kim - depends on my mood.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Or maybe that should be why do I do this to myself? Am I so jaded that I have to try to see the tiniest fault or flaw in even the nicest, most thoughtful gesture? If so that is really sad.

It does make me more like Miranda in SATC though, and I have to say that in the last few series she has WORKED, work, work, fierce, work.

So maybe it is good to be slightly jaded. Maybe it is a bit of armor to protect us against the shit life throws at us from time to time.

The shit today is in the form of snow. Lord knows how many times I almost lost my footing on the way to work this morning. It is deeply humiliating nearly falling over all the time. In some ways it is actually worse than falling over, cause you keep adopting these really unflattering poses to get your balance back.

I'm sat here at my desk listening to the Hannibal soundtrack - it's the bit where Hannibal is writing a letter to Clarice and Anthony Hopkins is reading it aloud. Really creepy.

I am SO BORED!!! I have almost nothing to do. Again - this leads to idle hands and inevitably checking out porn at work (I can do this as I have an office with a closeable door. Also no policy at downloading porn at work, which is really sexy).

I feel like I need a really adventuresome weekend so that I have some scandalous tales to tell on my blog, because I fear that it has become a mixture of the following..

1) Catastrophising over Will (although we were on the phone for another hour last night!!)

2) Moaning over the triviality of my job

and 3) and 4)

So with that in mind...

Roy has DVDs of the very early French & Saunders and we have been watching them. Comic genius.

Went to therapy last night (I live in New York, k? I HAVE to have a therapist. It's compulsory). We talked about Will a bit and we discussed my obsessive compulsive disorder when I start dating someone - the way that I completely overwhelm them by being way too full on. This is because I am basically saying "Think of me! Think of me every second of the day!!!".

My new mantra is..."you can't make it work, but you can fuck it up."

We have a date tomorrow night, on his suggestion. We spoke on the phone for an hour yesterday. He keeps making sweet comments about how handsome I am (I know!) and he sent me a really long email last night while he was at work (caring for very sick people in the ER - swoon...). These are all good things and good signs. Focus Christopher, Focus!

Also discussed with therapist the job situation and have decided that I must get my CV properly written and start applying for other PR jobs in NYC. I have practically nothing to do at work today so I have good reason to utilise that time.

Well, I have been back at work for just twenty five minutes and already I hate my boss again, hate my job and feel basically despondant. Great start to the new year.

This is made worse by the fact that I had the new kid on the block, Will, in my bed this morning and had to get up when all I wanted to do was snuggle against his warm, hard body. We were rudely awakened by my alarm clock. Still - we did fool around a bit and played kissypoo for a while.

This is still relatively new but I can already feel myself falling for the boy. He came round last night in his scrubs (he is a nurse at Cornell in the ER - obviously prompting lots of doctor, patient scenarios in my nasty little head) and looked for want of a better word, HOT! I am a real sucker for hospital scrubs. Makes me think of Dr Carter in "ER".

He is also from Missisipee (spelling) and has that great southern draaaawwwwllll. Mmmm...southern drawl....

We met on a hot and crowded dancefloor on new years eve and made out for hours. We have seen each other every day since then and this has resulted in my getting MASSIVE stubble burn from snogging too much. My chin looks like a massive scab - well not that bad, but pretty bad.

I'll shut up now about the boy. Am going to write my CV instead.

The day started with me stumbling across the delightful sight of a pigeon feeding itself from a pile of vomit. It almost made me wretch. I hope it is not a sign or anything.

Uneventful night last night. Went to the gym and then packed my stuff. Have three hours in the office today and then a press lunch and then flight home. Whoo hoo!

Just remembered that Linky told me last night that the fight that I stood next to at Crobar on Sat got mentioned by Richard Johnson in the NY Post! Helena! We are marginally famous by association!!! Whoo hoo!

Last night I was doorman extrordinaire for Sally's party at BoConcept. Got asked by some fat swedish git to pretend that someone wasn't on the list when actually they were and that were also the owners of BoConcept. I looked him square in the eye and said "I'm English" and he gave it up. I don't know what has got into me lately but I am so not putting up with any crap. I think that my boss's rantings have caused me to lose my sense of humor.

Went home rather than going to Beige. Meant to pack but crashed instead.

I want to come home NOW!

Last night I watched the final three hours of Angels in America. I didn't want it to end. Probably the best TV I have ever seen. Again I got that great "I live in an amazing city" feeling and the opening credits sequence when the camera pans down from up high over the city to a facial close up of the Angel of Bethesda in Central Park...all in one shot. I could watch that sequence over and over...

http://www.centralparknyc.org/virtualpark/southend/bethesdaangel/

The event looks like it is going well aside from the fact that my boss is still a neurotic twat. I am rid of him on Thursday! Praise the lord!

Apparently it might snow again on Thursday. I hope my flight doesn't get delayed. I'll be pissed off if it is....

I am nursing the mother of all hangovers (actually that's a bit far fetched, but my aching head is testament to a great first night at Crobar and the powers of Lincoln's prowess as a club promoter!)

Spent the first part of the evening at home with several vodka and tonics before slipping off together with the gang at 10pm. Emilie couldn't make it cause Tanya made a fuck up at work and Em had to step in and sort it out (till 1am!)

The club actually holds three and a half thousand people, which made it even more surprising that the queue stretched down the block. Tess and Michael threw the towel in after 15 minutes, but once we got in it was worth the wait. Apart from being severely congested that club itself is awesome (I really overuse that word) and everyone looked beautiful, which appealed to my Libran sensibilities (not that I believe in that nonsense).

Drink flowed, in a free manner, which always rounds the evening off nicely. Lost Nick and Roy right at the start, but kept Richard, Roy's sexy friend from England staying with us at the apartment. Also saw Linky and Sally and Boden which was really cool because I love them all and especially Sally who is always frikkin fabulous.

Anyway - got twatted. Saw Michael Brown who was playing way to hard to get, so I got bored and tried it on a bit with Richard and in the process learned that he had a boyfriend of five years, which made it obvious to me that he was unlikely to put out. So I may have looked fierce last night but I clearly wasn't gettin any.

Richard and I leave together and in the cab home I try to offer some wise (yet drunken) advice about love and life.

Go to bed at 1.30am. Wake up at 5.30am and worry about my day so much that I don't get back to sleep again. Wander into the living room at at 8am to discover Roy asleep on the sofa with Erik who was, up until this point, straight.

I want to say he is bisexual. However, and this goes against all Clare and Lucy's PC training of me (I used to make some pretty outrageous statements in my youth that I am particularly proud of), in my experience if you play around with men, and you are a man, you are probably gay. Or you will be at a later date.

Anyway - going to Opaline tonight and might try to put the moves on Richard again and see if he really is faithful to his boyfriend. Is that bad? Will I get bad karma?

Who gives.

Lest I forget (because money means nothing to me) I just have to say that for about half an hour today I thought that I had lost the company $50,000 by not factoring in a cost into a budget.

I've never seen Tom, my boss, look so pale. It was quite horrible. Actually it was quite funny, but that's because I have a warped sense of humor.

But fortunately it wasn't me, so I am off the hook. Now I am off home to celebrate my good fortune.

Ta ta.

Yesterday was bloody great and I was on fire. I seem to have gotten myself out of the messy PR quagmire and am now a sharp as a sharp thing with sharp edges. I got in at 8.30am and already I have cleared my inbox. Whoo hoo!

Last night - Roy finally used the dried mushrooms from the cupboard and made mushroom risotto which is one of my favorite things to eat.

Then I watched Angels in America again. I can't explain how great this show is. If you live in the UK and want to see the trailer check out this link...

http://www.hbo.com/films/angelsinamerica/video/window.html?vid_id=0

So anyway - the Zyban seems to be working and I am smoking way less than I usually do - yesterday only had four. It's weird - the craving just isn't there! But will continue to smoke until stupid PR event is over. Am going to stop just before I get on the plane next Thursday night.

Have just realized that I write my blog in a Bridget Jones style. V.bad. Must stop.

So the awful day was superseded yesterday by what will now be known as THE AWFUL DAY FROM HELL. It actually involved me having a screaming row with my boss and picking up my bag to leave the company. Fortunately he chased after me and apologized. But the whole incident has made me hate my job (only for now) and made me question practically everything in my life, in a most rational fashion (crying on the phone to Mum!).

Aside from that, no other update. Work has taken up my social life now and have nothing to report.

Unless you want to know what I had for breakfast (nothing - no time).

Nice.

Oh, oh, oh...and now I am drawn up with some stupid legal thing where I am talking to people about letters of indemnification and affidavits! I am completely out of my depth. I am drowning in a world of cheap cars and stupid PR ideas.

Awful day yesterday. Awful. Don't get stressed by work much, but yesterday was an exception to the rule. Am praying that today is better.

That is all.

Something very interesting I learned this Thanksgiving - the drug Tryptophan is harvested from Turkeys! Which is why everyone takes a nap on Thanksgiving (or in England, Christmas Day)! Useful to know also, if any has ever taken drugs and needs a natural come down. Go out and buy turkey. Not that I know anyone who takes drugs....

Well my first thanksgiving was a lovely event spent with my urban family, Tess and Roy (and for twenty minutes, Nick, who stupidly sat at home, two blocks away, watching TV and getting drunk my himself). In the evening we went to see The Cat In The Hat, which was very amusing. Oh...and I watched the Macy's Day Parade in the morning, but on TV, cause I was gonna be arsed to get my arse down to Broadway to see that fiasco! Right.

Weekend - usual...Opaline on Friday, blah, blah, blah...went to gym...blah...slept an unusual amount and read a lot of Harry Potter.

Oh, and I changed my summer duvet (comforter) to my winter duvet (comforter) because it is now colder than iceland in our apartment. I was as snug as the proverbial bug in a winter duvet (comforter) last night and this morning was a bastard to get out of it.

The shit hit the fan this morning cause Angie and Jason Turkey event last Tuesday got no press at all. This does not fare well for the team. Or me, for that matter.

And Matt Moneypenny hasn't called me. Bastard. I never fancied him that much anyway.

Will email him now and see what he is up to.

OH! Went and saw Love Actually. Made me homesick. :(

Lyrics to Private Life by Grace Jones. She is tres harsh, man!

J'ai les glands with your theatrics,
Your acting's a drag,
It's ok on tv, but you can turn it off,

Your marriage is a tragedy,
But it's not my concern,
I'm very superficial i hate everything official,
Your private life drama, baby, leave me out

Your sentimental gestures only bore me to death,
You've made a desperate appeal, now save your breath,
Attachment to obligation, through guilt and regret, shit thats so wet

And your sex life complications are not my fascinations,
Your private life drama, baby, leave me out

You asked my advice i say use the door,
But your still clinging to somebody you deplore,
And now you wanna use me for emotional blackmail,
I just feel pity when you lie, contempt when you cry,

Your private life drama, baby, leave me out,(x2) oh!

Oops! Been a bit relaxed in keeping my blog up to speed. Feel like I have been on speed over the last few days. Work is manic and have been spending most of the week organizing a press event with Angie Harmon and Jason Sehorn handing over the keys to a couple of Dodge Durango's to New York's version of meals on wheels! It's one of those rare opportunities that I actually get to do something worthwhile!

Apart from that not much to report - had my first abs class on Tuesday evening (boy did that hurt!). Went to the opening of the Spider Club at Avalon with Steph, Roy, Nick, Bill and Bill's new LOVER Lucian (Hi Bill - you love hiiiiimm, you want to marrryyyy him, etc) - mucho champagne and got absolutely hammered!

My friend Steph has got a non-speaking featured part of Sex and the City. We are both thrilled (we, as I am the biggest fan of the show and he is the second biggest fan). He is going to play the subject of a discussion between Carrie and Samantha, who see him in a bookshop!!! One of my friends! In SATC!! Go Steph!

Then last night I was a good boy - worked late, went to the gym and then watched ER and some porn and went to bedfordshire.

Booked my flight to Miami today to see Zach for his birthday. Yippee! Never been to Miami before! I got so excited at the thought of all those muscle bound hunks walking around in speedos that a bit of sex-wee came out!

Uneventful day and evening spent at the gym and infront of the TV. Did, however, bring work home and got in at 8am this morning! I am clearly on fire.

Interesting, huh?

Because of night with Matt and lack of sleep because of Epic shagging, Friday daytime was spent procrastinating over whether to go home and sleep OR go to Opaline with Nick.

Second choice won, with a stop at G, where Nick, Nick's friend Mike and I nursed several Jack and cokes, and telling some guy to fuck off (ugly gut grabbed Nick's dick while in the toilet - asshole!)

Next stop was Opaline where Nick and I both realized that after half an hour of little available talent neither of us was going to hook up. Both ended up at my place at 4.30pm watching The Talented Mr Ripley before falling asleep half way through.

Saturday - had brunch with Bill and spent the best part of three hours having a great "putting the world to rights" conversation. Actually it was spent discussing our hectic social calendars and the lack of good men in the world. But those are important global issues, after all.

Procrastinated again on Saturday evening about whether to go out, but after a power nap ended up at the Roxy with Nick again. Snogged about five guys on the dance floor before going home with some guy called Eddie, who while cute, I think stole $20...but not sure...left his number though, so maybe the lack of guilt means that I just spent too much on drinks and can't remember.

So there was this frikkin wind last night of epic proportions, whose main purpose in life seemed to be to bring every last leaf from all the trees in the tri-state area. Now all the trees are bare and I find this incredibly depressing. It really, truly is winter. Summer seemed so fast!

Anyway - onto more important things. Had date with Matt Moneypenny last night. Very good date. Met practically all his friends in one fell swoop, and handled the occasion very well I might add (a gift in the form of a bottle of Absolut helped me thinks). So - met the friends, followed by a dinner at a great restaurant in Brooklyn. Endeared myself by ordering a Pinot Grigio in a French establishment (stupid brits, etc). Debate, great conv, all that stuff, blah, blah, blah. Meet friends again later. Discover that the wind has blown a tree down in Matt's street. Later on, drunken snogging and marathon, er, stuff and me staying the night.

And although it was all great I now have this nagging voice in my head telling me that I shouldn't have put out on the first date (even though it was FUN!). My friend assures me that I will "get a second date you sexy mofo. I bet Mr. Moneypenny has already told his fag hag about you and is wondering how to get you back into bed this weekend without seeming needy!"

Hope it's true. Because, in the words of French & Saunders, "I am smitten. I am drained by the very nearness of him". Or something like that...

Went to see The Matrix - Revolutions last night. What a let down! Totally felt cheated, which is what I read I would feel. Everything before hand had been set up so well and this was like a total let down.

Went home and comiserated with a cup of tea and "Working Girl", which is infinitely better and more satisfying!

Has anyone ever noticed that police and ambulance sirens make that "Whoo-hoo!" noise? Has anyone ever noticed that they sound like a gaggle of gay men cat calling??? You will now.

NYC is full of them! Both ambulances and cat calling gay men.

I had this really great date last night - like REALLY great. He wanted to go for sushi which is like totally cool with me cause I am not digging the carbs right now. We even ordered a "Love Boat for Two". Cue giggles from other customers as the most enormous platter of every kind of sushi arrives on an actual wooden Junk. But we handled it well - the conversation was witty. I was on fierce. We drank hot sake, etc, etc.

Cut to Brooklyn walk in the leaves, Guinness, architecture, the realization that we are both chronically obsessed with Sonic the Hedgehog video games and all the other good stuff that goes with a really great date.

Then we get to the movies and as he turns away from me to get the tickets from the machine I make the first of two horrifying realizations. The first was that , from the back, he was the spitting image of my boss - same hair, shape of head, height...everything. The second realization was that his leather jacket was not in fact leather, but "pleather". And it wasn't a very nice style.

I know this may prompt some of you to say that I am shallow, but this is what I say to you............."shhh".

Anyway - it's all fine. Have ANOTHER date tomorrow night with a guy called Matt Moneypenny. And this is no lie - his great aunt or Uncle knew Ian Fleming and, as they say, the rest is history.

Wonder if he will be impressed that my new fave drink is a dirty Martini?

Lindsay and I celebrated our "last supper" yesterday evening by going to this great Italian restaurant called "Babbo" in Greenwich Village, which happens to be David Blane's fave eaterie (apparently he was in last week and we were reliably informed by the waiter that he was eating much more lightly than usual. Waiter also told us that had David performed the starvation stunt in NYC he would have got a lot more thrown at him than a few tomatoes. Insert extremely inappropriate joke).

Anyway - I had possibly the best pasta I have ever experienced - Goats Cheese with an orange sauce. Mmmm. Damn. Now I am hungry.

And when I went outside to have a cigarette (NYC smoking laws kill me - what better way to ice the cake than have a little ciggy after a great meal and wine?) I had another "New York Moment" - for those of you who are unaware of this unique phenomenon it is a few minutes of contentedness (some may call it smugness) where one realizes that one lives in one of the greatest cities in the world.

I think it had something to do with sitting on the steps next to this quaint little restaurant, on a cobbled street, with autumnal leaves falling - all punctuated by the distant noise of traffic a couple of streets away. Oh, and that handsome man who walked casually by, offering me just a hint of a "look".

Hot date with Kavi tonight - quite excited. Am wearing sexy underwear (not a thong) even though I have no intention of putting out (yet). But you never know when someone might cop a feel. Boy scouts and all that.

Not a boy scout copping a feel - I was talking about being "prepared"

So the weekend began officially on Friday night with Lindsay, Nick, Roy, Tess and I trooping off to OUT magazine's annual "100 Most Influential" party held at the Copacabana on the west side (apparently Out magazine thinks that the picker from boy meets boy is one of the 100 - I really don't think so).

For those of you who have never been to the Copacabana, all I can say is flock carpet and palm trees. A sprawling club that was way too overlit and pink in a way that looked like it had been hosed down with Peptobismal.

But the Absolut cocktails were plentiful and free, although this didn't stop me buying my first dirty Martini (which is now my drink of choice). To say I got drunk was an understatement. Met Steph later and then a few of us went to Elmo and then Lindsay thought it best to pop me in a cab and take me home. Then I did something I have never ever done in NYC, thus far. I threw up out of the window, at speed, streaking the outside of the cab with vomit and THE CAB DRIVER DIDN'T NOTICE! And I did it twice!!!

So Saturday was great - no hangover due to the purging! Went to the gym, did some shopping. Great! Evening not so great. Went to a friends party too early and ended up being at Kevin Bacon's party. Turns out friend and KB had hired the same venue! Anyway KB is v.short and dances like a nutter. But I suspect he was on his fifth bottle of Cristal.

After KB party went to Lotus, but was full of idiot blonde Lizzie Grubman types with nothing better to do than slop their Cosmos over you as you squeezed past their silicone enhanced boobs. Linds and I ended up in bed at 11.30pm.

Sunday - better....shopping on the Lower East Side followed by a spot of late lunch in a nice cafe. Went to Summer Phoenix's shop (Some Lost Ruby) and discovered that Summer actually works there! Asked her what the smell in the shop was and she looked genuinely delighted to tell me that it was the candle she was burning. What is it about celebrities, even B list ones, that makes me feel so fluffy inside? I went across the road and bought the candle from the shop she bought it from!

Evening - supposed to go and see an off Broadway one man play about Addiction, but ended up staying in watching Kate Hudson and Matthew Mc get it on in How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days. Stupid film, but I love it. Kate has got absolutely no tits whatsoever. She wouldn't fare well at Lotus!

I went to see Texas Chain Saw massacre with Lindsay last night - the new one, not the old one. Steph also came. The two of us tried to persuade Linds that she really wanted to see Kill Bill (Steph and I have both seen it before. WORK UMA!) but she was having none of it.

Anyway - TCSM is shite. Although I give snaps to the girl who played the lead cause she was great at acting shit scared for the entire duration of the movie, I have to say that I was really disappointed that she didn't get a bolt through the head when she runs through the cattle corridor thingy at the meat factory - you know...the one that kills the cows. Cause that would have been a great way to die. Or at least for her to lure....

Oh, I hate it when I watch films and they are crap. It's the instinctive part of me that wants to find something good in everything. Steph was the lucky one, cause he made the sensible decision to bugger off after sitting through 20 minutes to sneak into Kill Bill, to still get to see most of the movie. Wish I'd done that!

What was really frightening though, was Lindsay's reaction to the scary, jumpy bits - she kept holding onto my arm and cowering! I felt like quite the straight boyfriend! Until it ended when I magically turned into a homo again by announcing that the whole way through the movie I had wanted a cup of tea.

Another friend calls me at 12.30am to tell me that he is never dating again. Unless the date is paid for by the other guy and / or it involves sex at the end. Wasn't sure if the last bit was more important than the paying for the dinner bit, but anyway - I was kinda asleep and my brain was fuzzy. I would never date again also if I thought that there was no possibility of sex at the end of it. But it's nice to know that I can also say "I'm not that kinda first date guy". Just nice to know, that's all. Never said it, of course...

NOTICE - regarding Tom Ford's departure from Gucci, I have been unable to comment.

BTW - I am wearing the fiercest Armand Basi black sweater today - it has leather lightening bolts down the sleeves! I rock! That said, it has provoked numerous sniggers in the office. My boss just recited the immortal line from Flash Gordon...

"Flash! I love you! But we only have fourteen hours to save the world!"

My British friend Lindsay is in town and I christened her arrival by taking her to a tres exclusive champagne reception at the Bergdorf Goodman's men's store. Turns out that someone had lied about the champagne (actually the PR who invited me). We spent the next hour and a half nursing warm glasses of Pinot Grigio and being fed the blandest canapes ever. Didn't stop Lindsay and I downing about five glasses before deciding to leave. Ended up back at the apartment watching the Country Music Awards - basically an auditorium full of mid west rednecks singing songs called "Honk if you Honky Tonk" (I'd rather not, thanks all the same).

Had a very interesting meeting at Absolut yesterday (one of my clients) about the legal elements of marketing alcohol! Opened my eyes even further to the incredibly messy quagmire of US litigation. Basically so much as frown on someone and you get sued for millions. Quite extraordinary!

For those of you who don't know, Beige is this night held at the B-Bar every Tuesday night. I made the stupid mistake (I use that word loosely) of taking a sleeping tablet before drinking as was on such an adrenaline rush from the hectic day I had. Sleeping pills and alcohol do not mix well.

To say that I feel like ass and that my mouth is a cess pit is an understatement. And I can't remember certain parts of the evening including getting home!

Then this evening I have some stupid champagne book launch to go to at Bergdorff's, but I am sure things will look slightly rosier after the fifth glass of champagne. I think I could seriously become an alcoholic here. I am always telling my NYC friends that New Yorkers drink way much more than Brits. Seriously! They PUT THEM AWAY HERE! I can already hear my liver whimpering "help me...help me...."

Tom Ford has left Gucci Group! Shit.

So last night was spent with my dad and my stepmom. We went to a very swishy restaurant (on my advice) called Blue Fin. Thought about expensing it back, but too risky - they paid in the end. Felt guilty - was $200!!!

I made the stupid mistake of bringing up the "lets name one personality flaw that we each have" conversation. Let's face it - the person that raises that conversation point only really raises it as an excuse to take a dig at someone in particular. Turns out that my biggest flaw is talking and doing things to fast.

Anyway the flaw that I pointed out in my father was that he constantly interrupts during conversations but gets mad when people do it to him. So then for the rest of the night I could see him trying REALLY hard not to interrupt. He'd go to do it and then stop himself and say "sorry".

I discovered that this is about as annoying as interrupting.

I am becoming more and more like my father - something that I had thought might be happening, but realized last night just how much. I am trying to intellectualize the reasons why that might be happening (time spent with parents in formative years, etc).

I am not yet becoming like my stepmom, as I have only known her for four years. That is yet to come. Maybe it will manifest itself physically and my hair will become wild and untamed. More so.

Lindsay is coming to stay tomorrow for a week and I am so excited. I have got us free tickets for two champagne parties and one off Broadway show. Work, my PR muscle. WORK!

Wow - this is somewhat overwhelming. Free reign to tell everyone about what I am feeling, thinking...whatever.

Which reminds me - I still haven't taken one of those NYC horse and cart rides around Central Park. The thing is that I really need to find someone special to take with me. And at the moment, that relates only to a few close friends (most of which reside in the UK) and my mum. And the latter would be really depressing.

Am at work and not working. WORK WORK WORK! Nope - going out on the fire escape for a cigarette!

I can't decide if it is the coffee or the vitamins I have recently started taking that is / are making me shaky in the AM's. Hmmm. Maybe it is the cigarettes. GIVE UP!!!

Not yet.

Oh...and I need to bring everyone's attention to the fact that one of my bestest friends, Zach, has now moved to Miami for the winter months. Bastard. He has no idea how much I envy him. Actually he does, cause I told him several times. Anyway - I miss him very much. I miss you Zach! What will I do at Beige now on Tuesday nights?

Chat up your dancer, that's what.