Monday, September 13, 2004

If fortune favours the brave...


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...then I am about to become seriously wealthy and successful. I mean if I have been one thing over anything else this year, I have been brave!

So last Saturday night Drew and I go out to my friend Louise's birthday. I dress in my beloved black Gucci dress shirt, ripped bootcut jeans and brand spanking new shoes from Rockit. I style my hair differently - freshly washed, shiny and falling seductively infront of my eyes. And I decide to wear the Comme des Garcons fragrance that everyone loves, but I think smells a bit like perfume. To put not too fine a point on it I look (and smell) fierce. I celebrate by dancing to Fleetwood Mac on the balcony, imagining that I am Stevie Nicks in a man's body.

Drew comes over, we drink wine for a while and then we leave for Louise's birthday. Birthday is great. We drink champagne. Then we leave and go to pick up Sam from his fabulous new flat on Charing Cross Road. Errol, who I haven't seen since before I left for New York is there. He has just broken up with his girlfriend so is coming out with the 'boys' for the evening. Errol is of dubious sexuality and, while on the short side, is very, very cute and it passes my mind that maybe I should flirt a little with him. But by this point I am feeling quite drunk so I steal cigarettes from him instead.

From Sam's we go on to Shadow Lounge, and once again we drink champagne. Because Sam works there we get to stay in the VVIP section and at one point Ivan Massow sits next to us (I still think is he is eligible even if he is rumored to sleep with rent boys) along with Geri Halliwell. They are there for, oh, about two minutes, before they get up and leave again. I guess we are all being a bit lairy for their taste.

And so the evening progresses. I get more drunk. Some of us play kissy-poo (except Errol) and drink, and dance, until 4am when we get unceremoniously pushed back out onto Brewer Street to be harassed by refugees uttering "mini-cab" and "£25" over and over.

We get into the flat at about 4.30am and because of all the champagne I decide that I should take a sleeping tablet in order to sleep properly. Good idea. Take sleeping tablet. Sleep very, very well.

Until about 8am, when my bladder wakes me up. Feeling hung over and groggy, I slouch off to the bathroom and mid-pee I decide that I am feeling rather dizzy and just about manage to kneel on the floor without keeling over. Still bash into the bath though. When I am feeling slightly better I pick myself up and begin to stagger out of the bathroom, into the hall and back towards my bedroom.

And that's about as much as I can remember. The next thing I know I am lying with my head on the mat, the guys at my side, blood coming from a huge gash on my chin (you can actually see the bone) and from my right ear. Bits of teeth are on the floorboards. I am feeling very disorientated and they want to call an ambulance but I'm insistent that I'm ok and try to get up.

Oooh...blood. So much blood! It is starting to dawn on me that I am really not ok and that actually perhaps an ambulance might not be such a bad idea.

So off I get driven to King's Hospital where I am ravagely attacked by stupid nurses who seem to think that my effing and blinding is directed at them. They're trying to make me recline so that I am horizontal and it frikkin hurts. "Ow! It fucking hurts" I exclaim. "Don't you swear at me or you can just go home!" spits the nurse back. For a second I manage to compose myself and I turn to her and say "Don't be so ridiculous. I am not swearing at you." and then I turn to the guys and in all seriousness go "Let's go home..." to which Vix responds by squeezing my hand and smiling says "I don't think that's a very good idea, sweetie."

Several hours later, after many X-rays, cat-scans and having my chin sutured, the doctors come to tell me that I need to have surgery. Apparently when I went down I completely shattered my jaw and I need to have wiring to hold my teeth together and a steel plate put into the front on my mouth. Great. Not. Although I am peversely looking forward to the anesthetic. I love the way that it feels like someone is pulling you into sleep.

Anyway - the result of all this is that I had to have a week off work. I went back to mum's to rest and recuperate. And in the process I became a casualty of daytime television. I was shocked to see that Judy Finnigan is looking very, very haggard these days. But not surprised to learn that Richard Madely is still as deeply irritating and smug as he always has been.

So for the next four to six weeks I have my teeth clenched together in a tight rictus, with a retainer like thing and elastic junking up my mouth. I have lost the feeling in my chin and everything aches. But I am back at work so am not as bored.

Zach told me that the reason that Reid became a model was because his brother kicked him in the face and broke his jaw. The new jaw completely changed him and he stopped being fat and dorky and become a bona fide sex god. I wonder if that will happen to me?

Groucho Marx once said "Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die."

Sunday, September 12, 2004

I just read that suicide bombers are told that their sacrifice will be rewarded in heaven, because the Koran suggests that martyrs get to have sex with 72 virgins.

However, an eminent Islamic scholar suggests this is a mistranslation from the Koran of the word "Houri" as Virgin. He's traced the word back to its original Arabic root and says it means grape - or wine.

So, even if the Koran is completely correct, the suicide bombers will arrive in heaven to discover that they have slaughtered innocent people in exchange for a couple of chardonnays.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

The War on Terror

I don't really write about anything of real substance on this thing, but I guess this time of year is now a kind of anniversary for pondering and thought.

I just read an article where the writer described 9/11 as the "most fetishised remembrance day of our times." I actually find it difficult not to agree with her. My own gut reaction to the event will always be etched in my memory: I experienced it as an attack on humanity.

Later, reflecting on this, I realised to my shame that I could identify with people in tall buildings in a way I could not with people in refugee camps. However, it seemed to me that at least we were now all in the same boat and there was a chance to wake up to some of the injustices we had previously insulated ourselves from.

The deeper shock for me, and no doubt for many, was the failure of the American political establishment to see 9/11 as anything other than an attack on America and all that it represented. In their own way, it seemed, they were mimicking the tiny minority who at the time suggested that "America had it coming". The demand that one is "either for us or against us", not just on the lips of Bush but also of Hillary Clinton, and the action of Mayor Giuliani in rejecting a substantial aid donation from a leading Saudi prince because he went on to make some mild criticisms of US foreign policy, gave the impression that what America wanted was not so much friends as acolytes.

Everything that has happened since has only served to strengthen that impression. It does indeed seem to me that we are on the verge of McCarthyism, or even fascism, not just in the US but also here. Suddenly we can no longer see beyond the confines of Western civilisation - anything that resists its global spread is seen as non-human, or alien. In the name of defending our precious freedoms and material comforts perhaps we are creating a monster. If that indeed is how our civilisation appears to those who are outside then the so-called war on terror is already lost.

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Petri-fied!


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I have nothing better to do today than post Blog entries...

We have been sent an email from the NYC HQ about Anthrax preparedness. I am not sure why. It's been a while since I've even heard that word. Maybe it is just to wake us up to the possibilities again. Are we on red alert or something?

The email was interesting, but made me want to be sick, really. Anthrax seems like such a mysterious thing - the email had a little attachment that showed how it is dispersed by atomizers or via the regular mail.

Apparently there are 4 scenarios to be acted on differently. These are inspired. I can imagine that it took a whole (expensive) think tank to come up with these:

1. a threat is received, but no package has been found

2. a threat is received, and an unopened package has been found

3. a package has been opened, but no substance is inside

4. a package has been opened and a substance has been found

In the interests of national security, I am not going to advertise the contingency for each circumstance (I don't want to give Osama any bad ideas). Anyway it was interesting and I think I will be better prepared if the day ever comes that I will need to deal with this type of situation. The hardest thing for me would be to not.... FREAK OUT!

Words...can't...describe...


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His name is Jon Passavant. I know this because I met him once at a party at some millionaires mansion in a gated community in Beverly Hills (yes, my life used to be that fabulous).

Unfortunately he's straight. This information rained all over my parade. So the chances of him and I hooking up are...er...rather unlikely.

But I can dream.

He is what I call "a cryer." At the moment of truth I would start crying.

Friday, September 03, 2004

How to make a Versace Salad


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I've had a long standing interest in the perma-toned, overtly bleached doyenne of the fashion industry. It's akin to watching a car wreck. According to Popbitch, guests at Donatella Versace's dinner parties have marveled at the special dish she always chooses. Here's the recipe...

1. Ingredients: 3 grammes of cocaine, 1 salad plate.

2. Rack out lines the size of cigarettes on the plate.

3. While the other dinner guests eat dinner, snort lines.

4. Do not offer round.

5. Go straight to rehab.

Apparently guests at Donatella's place report that she used to keep her cocaine in the fridge "in blocks the size of feta cheese."

I'm not sure about some of these figures...

But look at those numbers go really, really fast!!!

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Is Virginity Worthwhile?

Read this!

I quote...

"Psychiatrists claim people usually cannot remain good friends after they stop having sexual intercourse together. If they don't remain lovers, they must become very distant from each other. In a close situation such as attending the same school or the same church, this "distant" relationship can conflict with being near each other in classes. The two former lovers can develop a "hate" relationship as a way of maintaining the "distant" relationship.

An example of this hate after intercourse is Israel's prince Amnon and his affair with his half sister Tamar. After sex, "his love turned to hate and now he hated her more than he had loved her." -- 1 Samuel 13:15 LB."

Of course the fact that their relationship became dysfunctional after sex had, of course, nothing to do with the fact that they were actually brother and sister.

Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Bloggers around the world, unite!


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My rather fabulous NYC friend Sally (gracing the above cover of NYC photographer Patrick McMullen's latest book "So80s") took up a dare from me to start her own blog. Now if anyone is deserving of their own blog it's Sally cause she, reader, has some helluva lot of stories to tell (sorry Sally - the pressure to deliver!) One of them even involves an encounter with a pre-fame Ms. Ciccone, but I'll leave it up to her to provide the low down on that one at her own discretion.

Read all about her here.

Monday, August 30, 2004

My Waking Life


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I’m going to see where this one takes me…

For the last two weeks I have meant to change my bedclothes. The last time I changed them was over a month ago. Yes...I know what you are thinking - "Gross!", right? Yeah probably, but you see the thing is I quite like it that way. Some people love the smell of clean sheets - sliding in beneath the covers and feeling that gentle caress that only the best fabric conditioner can buy.

But right now I quite like the smell of me. And the smell isn't that musty "boy" smell that you can detect on most student halls of residence. It's a combination of red Dax hair wax, Clinique Happy for Men and Origins Ginger Shower Gel (I have taken to showering before I go to bed).

My room is a small room - probably the smallest I have ever resided in. Apart from for sleeping I don't use it very much. At previous addresses I have seen my bedroom as a kind of sanctuary from the areas outside, but still within the apartment. I have always been very lucky with my bedrooms. The best being the one I had at 50 Murray in NYC.

This is the first time that I have only lived with one other person. I have always lived with at least two other people - right the way through university and my working life in London. When I lived in West Hampstead - 1996 through to 2003 - I lived with three other people. But now I only live with Vix, and it's all very grown up. She inherited most of the furniture from her father when he died. So the apartment is very furnished in a very grown up way. That said, it is also very comfortable. So for the first time I feel like a proper grown up in a proper grown up apartment. So comfortable that on Saturday night I fell asleep on the sofa and didn't wake up until 7am in the morning, at which I dragged myself to my bedroom and slept for a further four hours until about 11am.

I live in an area of London called Clapham South. It has a "village" mentality, the centre being Abbeville Road - a long street with six or seven restaurants mingled in with little gift shops that sell small nick nacks at high prices. The roads surrounding Abbeville Road are lined with Porsches, BMWs and top of the range Volkswagens.

Clapham South is south of the river Thames. It is the first time that I have lived south of the river. I can only compare living south of the river with how New Yorkers view living in Manhattan with living in Brooklyn. People who live north of the river are the Manhattanites. People who live south of the river are the residents of Brooklyn and maybe even Queens.

The other night Drew and I were watching Will and Grace. There was this joke about how the boys refused to go and visit Grace because they were in Manhattan and she was in Brooklyn. "How far away is Brooklyn from Manhattan?" asked Drew.

"On the tube it's about as far away as Stockwell is from here - Clapham South." I answered. I think that this kinda threw him because Stockwell is about five minutes away. But those are the rules.

On Thursday night my Dad drove up to London to take me out for dinner. We went to Café Rouge on Abbeville Road. My Dad and I have a colourful history. He was only 18 when I was born, and in many ways he feels like he sacrificed his youth in order to be a father. As a result we got along like cat and dog and when I was 23 I refused to talk to him for the best part of two years.

But today we are less like father and son and more like two friendly men who have found a deep and important respect for one another. My Dad told me something that I had not even considered but something that I found immensely comforting. When he left my mum he could not conceive that he would ever love anyone as much as her again. Then he met Kathy, my stepmom of about three years now, and everything changed. For one he has his youth back. I don’t know many 53 year old men as young as my father.

Last night I went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. It was about 10pm and the sky was midnight blue. No clouds and for once there couldn’t have been that much light pollution because you could see the stars. So I focused in on the first one that I saw and I made a wish.

And the star has promised not to tell anyone the secret! ;)

Friday, August 27, 2004

Some things are too fabulous...


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Look...I know I write a lot about my job, but bear with me, ok? Just let me try and convince myself of a few things...

Sometimes my job is relentlessly full of pretentious muppetry. (See previous Blog entry re Comms review.) But sometimes I am required to do something that has such breathtaking results that it makes me do a stock check and in turn brings me the realisation that I am quite lucky to be part of a creative process that can produce a visual as beautiful and iconic as the above image.

A few weeks ago one of my clients designated to me the monolithic task of single handedly organising an ad shoot with supermodel Erin O'Connor. For those of you that don't really know what I do, one thing I definitely don't do is organise ad shoots...that's the job of the ad agency (see Saatchi & Saatchi, WCRS, TBWA). But in this instance my client is too cheap to hire an ad agency. So over the course of five days I developed a creative concept for the campaign with the photographer, hired hair stylists and make up artists and even chose some frocks for Erin to wear (the dress in the picture - Stella McCartney - I chose that!!)

Anyway - the highlight of all this was arriving at the studio on the day of the shoot, to be greeted by the photographers assistant...one hell of a man (yeah a little on the short side, but that's manageable), wearing nothing but a pair of sneakers and a pair of cut off cargo pants. Bronzed, ripped and gorgeous. He actually apologised for being half naked (it was a hot day) - if only he knew!

So that was the highlight...until this morning when I got the scans from the shoot. I haven't put them all up cause I don't want to bore you? Aren't they great!? Aren't I great???!!!!

Oh yes, Christopher...you are. Yes you are.

Have a fatuous weekend, everyone!!!

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Bridget Jones!


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So this is a little taster of what I have been busy writing in the last week. It's for a paid for advertorial in Glamour magazine, but my client has approved it and I am beginning to feel, more and more, that I too could become a journalist in the style of Heat magazine...

20 Reasons Why We Love Bridget Jones

1 She gave a name (too cheeky to mention here) to the collection of ways men mess with our hearts, such as neglecting to call the morning after a date, flirting then disappearing etc.

2 We can all eat dessert because she sparked the comeback of granny pants and control briefs (Stella McCartney soon reinvented them in high-waisted bikinis).

3 In a highly satisfying twist, she pashed and dashed on the dastardly cad Daniel Cleaver – go grrrl!

4 She made every self-help book hoarding, chardonnay swilling, hairbrush diva feel NORMAL.

5 Anything is possible - even escaping an infamous Thai gaol is possible – on Planet Bridget.

6 She’s the ultimate underdog: the least likely to succeed but the most likely to be adored by everyone for trying.

7 Compared to Bridget, we’re a vision of grace. She commits every clutzy mistake we’ve ever made (only on a grander scale!) then some, but makes them seem hilarious.

8 Her heart is in the right place. She may cringe at her parents and feel like a disappointment, but she always fulfils her daughter duties.

9 The girl’s got guts. She scored a TV job, landed her lawyer hunk, lost the podge and endured life behind bars. That’s a lot of achievements for a little Bridge.

10 She gives us faith: love handles and all, she ousted Mark Darcy’s primped, proper fiancé and won back Daniel Cleaver after his humiliating affair.

11 She never has anything appropriate to say – what a breath of fresh air!

12 Even when she lost the podge she still had a nice feminine layer of flesh – something for us to hug. Never has a carved bicep or hollow cheek reared its freakish head on Bridge.

13 She’d provide all the entertainment at the office Christmas party.

14 She’s a gifted sartorial teacher, always committing fashion experiments (and, frequently, crimes) for us – in wide screen no less – so we don’t have to.

15 Even when her world is caving in, Bridge never gets nasty. In fact, she’s the best best friend a gal could hope for.

16 Bridge is a girl’s girl. You just know that she’ll never become a smug married, even if she wins her handsome Mr Darcy, her fairytale comes true and she lives happily ever after.

17 She’ll NEVER utter the words “tick tock!” in your ear, demand you spill your sex life to a dinner party of smug marrieds or ask (in a loud voice in a quiet, crowded room) why you’ve been left on the shelf.

18 Unlike our doctors, Bridget recognises the healing power of vodka and Chaka Kahn.

19 She makes us laugh out loud.

20 She reminds us of us.

Friday, August 20, 2004

Willy on the Block...


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I haven't mentioned Will for a while, but as some of you know he is currently on Big Brother in the US. He's been in the house now for about seven weeks, which I find incomprehensible - not that he is still there, but that for me, being caged up that long, I would literally be going out of ma' fragile lil mind!!!

Now Big Brother in the US is very different from the UK Big Brother that we all know so well and so intimately. It is much more of a "game" and from what I can ascertain from reading endless feed updates and watching the odd clip or two, it is one fundamentally consisting of strategy and alliances - with a double dollop of backstabbing thrown in.

There is no public vote on BB US, so the man in the street has no say as to who stays and who goes. Instead it works like this (I think I have this right)...

Every week there is a competition where the winner of a randomly themed competition wins what is entitled "Head of Household". That person then chooses two people who will be put up on the "block". I hate that expression - makes me think of Tudor days when Mary Queen of Scots was doing the rounds.

Anyway, later in the week there is another competition and the winner of that competition wins what is called the Power of Veto. That person can choose to use the veto, and if they do they will choose one person who will be taken "off" the block. The Head of Household then replaces that person with another housemate.

After that all the non-nominated housemates vote for the person that they would like to stay and the person that they would like to go. The results are announced on a live show on Thursday nights and the evictee gets booted out and has an interview with the US version of Davina McCall - CBS anchorwoman Julie Chen. Not like Davina though in that she doesn't have that coquettish little run up to the housemates and she doesn't have to shield them from about 50 paparazzi!

On BB in the UK it is illegal to discuss nominations with any of the other housemates, upon pain of eviction. In the US, because of game formula it is actively encouraged. The only way to survive is to align yourself with a group of people who you are pretty certain have your back covered. There are all kinds of twists and turns that are too numerous to mention.

Anyway the point of me explaining all of this is that Will was chosen as one of the housemates to be put up for eviction tonight, and as much as I hate to say this, it looks like he might be going. Reason - three of the seven housemates eligible to vote seem to be determined to kick him off (he's part of a rival alliance and a strong player). This will mean that there will be a tie-break and it is thought that the woman who will make the break is going to boot Will off.

If he get's booted out Will will become the first person to enter a sequestered house somewhere exotic where he will sit and wait for about five weeks. And then at the end of September he will, with his fellow evicted housemates, form a jury who will vote for the person, out of the final two housemates, who should win.

But this is all subjecture - because things change and I have a funny feeling that Will will live to see another day in the BB house and subsequently be a little closer to the $500,000 prize (and to think that all our Rock Star housemates get is £68,000!!!)

Go Will! (But don't go yet!!!)

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Me as Dad...


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Look at the mewling little bugger! All domed head, chubby cheeks and cute. The baby is quite sweet as well.

It's amazing the responses that holding a small child can produce. It can warm the cockles of the coldest heart, it can draw blood from a stone, it can make a grown man cry.

My holding this child ("owned" by my friend Clare - see previous Blog entry) produced a rather difference response - from the baby. About thirty seconds after this picture was taken it puked on my beloved hocky top. Now I don't know how many of you have encountered baby sick in your time, but it's smell and consistency has baffled the most learned scientists and scholars for hundreds of years. It's kind of like that ectoplasm that Bill Murray and co got slimed with in Ghostbusters, except that this stuff is greeny-white and smells like congealed Farleigh's Rusks.

Anyway - yeah, I think I would still like to be a Dad, but when I get emails from the baby's mum saying things like "I left him at the creche so that I could go to the gym for an hour and I very nearly had a panic attack because I missed him so much", it does give me pause.

Monday, August 16, 2004

10 Things I like / dislike

Things I like:
1) the smell of rain

2) waking up, thinking you have to go to work and then realising that it's a Saturday

3) the first cigarette of the day

4) the chocolates you get with the bill at an expensive restaurant

5) the picture of me when I was two, with my Dad pushing me down a slide

6) bumping into an old friend at a huge and busy nightclub

7) opening a new bottle of my favorite fragrance (Sander for Men, by Jil Sander)

8) that my Mum's dogs never forget who I am and are always ecstatic to see me

9) presenting a really slaved over cooked meal

10) Pink Geraniums

Things I dislike:
1) people who dot their "i"s with little circles, or even worse, hearts

2) waking up in the morning, feeling contented and then realising that you have a conference call at 9am and it's 8.45am already

3) regret

4) the smell of laundry that you have forgotten to put out to dry

5) pashminas (so 2001)

6) buying the Evening Standard and discovering that Laura Craik is on vacation

7) being given goody bags at parties and discovering that they only contain products from some random hair care line

8) being made to feel like a child by my boss

9) not having any wine in the house

10) spending good money to see a crap film (Catwoman on Friday night - if you're thinking of going to see it, my advice is...don't)

Saturday, August 14, 2004

My boss is a bitch...

And I have a staus report to write. I promise not to neglect my blog writing duties so much next week. Have a great weekend y'all!!!

Thursday, August 12, 2004

My most exciting email this morning...

I am not going to even mention the weather as it is just too depressing but I'm sure you will all join me in lamenting the dilemma facing us every morning with these unpredictable tempests, namely what shoes to wear.

Your feet get too hot in proper shoes or trainers and yet with flip-flops your feet get wet when it inevitably pours down! I thought cowboy boots might be the answer until my friend Jane wore her's yesterday and they began to fill with rain!! Disaster!

Anyway apart from footwear woes, I am all fine here and just starting work on this glorious morning. I thought I would share with you the most exciting email I received in the last fourteen hours regarding the October/November issue of "Hair and Beauty Inspirations". This is what I will be pulling information on for the duration of this morning. What joy! Does this woman not understand that I am a man? Yes, yes, yes...a gay man, but still - the only double ended product I know about it is a...

"Hi Chris!!!

We need everything here by next Wednesday, the 18th August. Hopefully there's something on the list you can help with. Thank you!

1. Sexiest hair EVER
Quotes from the experts on what sums up sexy hair for them plus product recommendations and tips for getting sexy hair.

2. Well red
Products for red hair. Quotes from the experts on how to wear it well, what shade to go for etc.

3. Hair Accessories
The best new hair accessories.

4. Green hair products
Shampoos, conditioners and stylers.

5. Berry Nice
The best make-up in berry shades.

6. Chocoholic
All things chocolatey - hair, body, make-up with a chocolate theme.

7. Matte skin
The lightest powders, make-up bases and products designed to create a modern matte finish.

8. Sexy scents
The newest scents to seduce

9. Double-ended products
Mascaras, pencils, concealers etc.

10. Tried and tested beauty
Facial scrubs.

11. Tried and tested hair
Volumising shampoos."

Saturday, August 07, 2004

When you are drunk...

Things that are difficult to say when you're drunk . . .

a) Innovative
b) Preliminary
c) Proliferation
d) Cinnamon

Things that are VERY difficult to say when you're drunk ...

a) Specificity
b) British Constitution
c) Passive-aggressive disorder
d) Transubstantiate

And of course things that are DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE to say when you're drunk ...

a) Thanks, but I don't want to sleep with you
b) Nope, no more booze for me
c) Sorry, but you're not really my type
d) No kebab for me, thank you
e) Good evening officer, isn't it lovely out tonight?
f) I'm not interested in fighting you
g) Oh, I just couldn't - no one wants to hear me sing
h) Thank you, but I won't make any attempt to dance, I have zero co-ordination
i) Where is the nearest toilet? I refuse to vomit in the street

And as an added extra...

"I must be going home now as I have work in the morning."

Friday, August 06, 2004

Tip of the day!

If your child is choking on an ice cube, don't fret! Just pour a pint of boiling water down the youngster's throat and, hey presto! The blockage is clear.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

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!"

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

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

Posted by Hello

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!

Saturday, July 31, 2004

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!

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

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.

Monday, July 26, 2004

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.

Friday, July 23, 2004

Beautiful Bath


 Posted by Hello
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!

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

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.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

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...

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Monday, July 19, 2004

Bottom Feeding TV


Posted by Hello
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.

Friday, July 16, 2004

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!


Thursday, July 15, 2004

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!

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

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

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

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

Friday, July 09, 2004

Feel like Crap

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

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

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!!! ;)

Friday, July 02, 2004

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.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

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"

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Only Gay Man in the Village

Not much time today for a proper blog entry (all day global strategy meeting for a client, yah?), so instead I will leave you all with this. Worth watching through to the end!

(For the Americans among you - this is from a TV show called Little Britain...cult gay viewing in the UK!!!)

Cheerio!

PS: Did anyone see that documentary on Channel 4 last night about that freaky kid who used to be an antiques expert at 10 years old and is now a transexual living in Wales? Brilliant TV!

Monday, June 28, 2004

Um, er...

I get a huge amount of satisfaction from dressing down the suppliers that we use when they fuck up. I just got a cue sheet from a company that we are using to pitch a story to radio stations. The accompanying email asked that I obtain client approval within three and a half hours!

Joy! Now all of the general Monday morning frustration I have been feeling has been vented via an extremely patronising response - "approval in three and a half hours? Silly man!" Actually I didn't write that exactly but made it abundantly clear that I don't take well to receiving stupid approval requests!!! I guarantee that there are few PRs in this world who can get client approval in less than 24 hours!

Unless you work in PR you won't really appreciate all of that. But it leads me on to today's theme - why can't I ever construct a really catty response when I am put on the spot, in person? I can write the perfect put down email - not too bitchy, sly or aggressive...just condescending enough to make the recipient feel like a prize turnip. But on the spot? Nothing. I start to stammer and feel hot and my head races. And it is only when I walk away that the perfect response forms in my mind.

Wouldn't it be nice to be calm and collected and sufficiently self aware to respond to anything thrown at you? To be like Rebecca Loos? I only suggest her because it would have been nice to shag David Beckham as well as being articulate.

My friend Drew has a great put down (which he has, I might add, used on me, the bastard)...

Hint of a sympathetic smile, index finger to lips and...

"Shhh..."

Quote of the day...

"Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger and grief, than from those very things for which you are angry and grieved."
Marcus Antonius

And question of the day...

This weekend is London's gay pride march and festival. I am wondering - should I form and lead "Fags on Skateboards" to upsurp "Dykes on Bykes". It is probably the only way that I can get access to a cute gay skater dude.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

Daniel

When I was seventeen my best friend was this boy I went to sixth form with. His name was Daniel and he had shoulder length mousey hair, a quirky sense of humour and a smile that could light up the room. I thought he was magnificent!

Daniel was my first proper crush. Up until that point the only outlet my confused, teenage sexuality had was through staring at pictures of Roger Taylor from Duran Duran. There was never anything overtly sexual about the situations running through my mind - it was never wank fantasy stuff - just a feeling that I would be happy to just lie in his arms for a few minutes or even eternity.

My first physical encounter with a man is probably one of my most memorable, and not because it was sexual. It was because it was about an intimate closeness that was never really discussed. Forbidden, yet at the same time perfectly natural and understood.

One day I drove Daniel back to his house in Dilton Marsh and he seemed kinda down in the dumps. As we pulled up to the front of his house he turned to me and announced that he had ended his relationship with Emma, his girlfriend at the time. Again, teenage confusion exploded inside my head. That means I could have more of him, that he was more mine, that we could spend more time together. And then, "is he trying to tell me something else?" Externally I remained cool and said something like "I will always be there for you." At which point Daniel smiled and said the words...

"Can I hug you?"

Now these days that question would not phase me in the slightest, coming from anyone. I am a very tactile person and can even quite happily fall asleep in the same bed as a friend and spoon one another, with no misunderstandings about what it means. But at that point in my life I had had no physical contact with another man, ever. My father and I were not close when I was growing up, so hugging another man was just never on the cards.

So, in answer to Daniel's question, I said "yes" and we hugged. I can't remember for how long, but to this day I can still remember that feeling of completeness and how my heart flipped. I felt somehow whole. I have had that feeling with only two men since. We are told that it shouldn't be up to another person to complete your life, but in moments like the one I shared with Daniel it's hard to imagine why not.

Daniel and I never went any further than that hug. We both went to university and over the years we lost contact. I know that he became an actor and if you Google his name you can see that he was in a play called "Bodies in Flight". I think he lives in Poland. I once painted an Oscar statuette for him with the words "The first of many" written on the back. I wonder if he still has it?

Sometimes when I am smoking a cigarette I draw in the smoke and hold it in my lungs. I imagine it just sitting there in the warm darkness inside my body until it makes me feel claustrophobic at which point I exhale.

Colin has a big one...

Look! No, not there! There!

Loving number twenty!

Monday, June 21, 2004

New York on my mind...

It has been just over a month since I left the big apple. For the first few weeks my mind was on about three things and three things only - money, a roof over my head and a job.

Now that I have all three of those, my mind has begun to ponder on what I guess I will always call my home away from home. Especially my friends there. For those of you that read this, I miss you all so much and really hope to hear from you and see you all soon.

That's it for today...

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Bugger

I just had to turn down a two day trip in the French Alps because of my throat. I would have been running up hills and climbing trees and given that I am currently out of breath from running up the stairs...

Friday, June 18, 2004

I Can't.

Rough transcript of a conversation I just had with the company that has shipped my stuff over from the states (I am trying to arrange to have it delivered on Tuesday)...

Kelly: (Imagine a really stupid Essex girl accent) "Ello"

Me: (Imagine a really sexy, husky posh accent) "Hello. Is that Kelly?"

Kelly: "Yeah."

Me: "Oh, hi...hello. Now that my shipping has arrived at your warehouse I was wondering if I could arrange to have it delivered next Tuesday?"

Kelly: "Do you have your reference number?"

Me: "No - I'm afraid I lost the paperwork. I can give you all my other information, address and that kind of stuff"

Kelly: "I'll still need your reference number."

Me: "But I told you - I don't have it."

Kelly: "But we need it."

Me: "But I don't have it!"

Kelly: "Ok, then I suppose I'll need to do look it up myself."

Me: (incredulous) "Is that ok?"

On hold for about five minutes.

Kelly: "Ok. I have your reference number. To arrange delivery you'll need to pay the shipping fee first."

Me: "Ok, but can I pay by Solo?" (I know it's pikey, but I'm not allowed a Switch card yet cause I've been out of the country, alright?)

Kelly: "No."

Me: "Why not?"

Kelly: "Because we don't accept Solo or Switch. Do you have a credit card?"

Me: "Not one that I can charge it to."

Kelly: "We need a credit card."

Me: "Could someone else call up with their credit card details to pay the fee?"

Kelly: "No."

Me: "Why not?"

Kelly: "We just can't."

Me: "But I don't understand. Why does it matter who pays the bill? I'm trying to work with you here!"

Kelly: "We can only accept payment by credit card."

Me: (really losing my temper now) "Let me get this straight - there is no other way for me to pay except by credit card. Which I don't have. So how am I supposed to get my shipping?"

Kelly: "Well there is another way...you can do a bank transfer."

Me: "But you just said there wasn't another way, but ok."

We spend the next few minutes arranging the transfer details. I am finally getting somewhere now...

Me: "So when on Tuesday can you deliver?"

Kelly "We can't say. Anytime between 9am and 6pm."

Me: "..............."

Words...can't...describe...my anger. Heaving chest...flames...coming...out...of...the...side...of...my...face...

Going to Fiction tonight! Gonna dance my booty off!

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Beef Curtains

So I was sat on our balcony this morning trying to coax myself out of sleep with a strong cup of coffee when I saw the weirdest thing.......a squirrel having a fight with a pidgeon! Honestly! The squirrel kept backing off but the pidgeon kept going for it. Isn't there something where you can write into The Times and report the first Robin of the year? I wonder if they would write about squizza / pidge fight club? Maybe not, because the first rule...etc.

Went to a meeting this morning in Hammersmith with Rich, Lucy and Jane and on the way back we all started having a filthy conversation about other words for, er, ladies downstairs bits - e.g. muff, beef curtains, flange, lettuce (I didn't get that last one).

Anyway, the conversation merged into our human resources manager drinking from the furry cup (lesbian) and then swiftly onto a radio programme I listened to the other day which was about the most offensive words in the English language. Number two was "cunt" (sorry ladies, but I LOVE this word, and I think you should empower yourselves by reclaiming it.) Of course the others wanted to know what the number one most offensive word was and because our cab driver was black and the word was "nigger" I had to make like I had forgotten, which they responded to in the negative by prodding me hard to remember. Anyway - I was blushing hard!

Before the cabbie drove off after dropping us off at work he leaned out of his window and told us that it had been one of the rudest jobs he had had in a long time and he was thoroughly looking forward to driving us again.

Nobody can do smut like the British.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

An Ounce of Pretention is Worth a Pound of Manure...

...or so the line goes - from one of my favourite movies, Steel Magnolias. And yes, for those of you who don't already know, I am a homosexual.

So I had a blog once before, but it died from neglect. Mainly because I forgot the login details during my transplant from New York to London. Silly me. But because some (two) of my friends said that the original Blog provided them with much mirth (one said it was Bridget Jones-like. I was actually going for Carrie Bradshaw, but ok), I have decided to 'revive' it.

And regarding the pretention reference, this is in reference to the title of my Blog. It was conceived in a moment of existential madness. But still...I pose the question to all my readers, and I encourage you to feed back to me, is anything really real?

Who cares. What you really want to hear about is...

What I had for lunch
My conquests
Stupid things my friends did
My point of view on pressing celebrity dilemmas
Who was at Fiction on Friday
How many press ups I can do at the gym (getting better by the day!)
What I think of Manchester United player, Christiano Ronaldo (phwoar)

I think I just made clear what I think of afore mentioned football player. Except his hair is crap. Yellow tipped highlights are SO October 2003.

And so on...

Saturday, March 13, 2004

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!!!

Friday, March 12, 2004

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.

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

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!

Friday, March 05, 2004

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.

Thursday, March 04, 2004

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.

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

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.

Sunday, February 29, 2004

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!