It's been almost three years since I started this here blog and I'm afraid, my friends, that the time has come for me to say "Good-bye."
I originally created this little thought pad as a way of informing my family and friends back in the UK of what I was doing in NYC, but as time went on my audience grew somewhat. The realisation that people from all over the world would actually want to read about my little life made me want to be more considered with what I wrote. It literally made me want to improve my writing, so I consulted friends who could help me do so.
And so I learned the correct use of apostrophes.
Upon further reflection I can see, in no uncertain terms, that since the beginning my blog has actually allowed me to work through some of the various things that have troubled me so much in the past. This may sound trite, but I think that it's true: this blog was the best therapy that I never had.
My life, as it stands right now, is the best that it has ever been. I love my life in a way that I never loved it before and the real irony, perhaps, is that I feel less inclined to write about it now. I don't feel like I need to. I don't know if that goes against the grain of what blog writing is all about, but that's kind of how it feels for me. At least that's how it feels right now.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for your comments. It's been memorable.
Christopher
x
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Happy birthday to me, happy ... etc
This is the first birthday where I have had no cards or presents or phone calls from family.
That said, it is the first birthday that I saw in while drinking Bollinger champagne, sat next to a pool at a luxury hotel in Los Angeles.
You win some, you lose some.
That said, it is the first birthday that I saw in while drinking Bollinger champagne, sat next to a pool at a luxury hotel in Los Angeles.
You win some, you lose some.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I don't believe in God, but I can't accept that there's nothing. I don't particularly like the current Pope or what he stands for, but I'm ambivalent about the Catholic church and I can't blame people for wanting to have faith. I am not very well educated on Islam, but I don't believe that all Muslims are experts at flying planes into buildings.
All that aside, I genuinely don't think that it was the Pope's intention, when he quoted the Byzantine emperor, Manuel II, who described Islam as "evil and inhuman", to make some kind of Catholic first-strike against Islam. He may be misinformed and naive, but I don't think that he's stupid. Or at least not enough to think that he could imply that followers of Islam are homicidal maniacs and get away with it. I actually think that he knew that his words would carry some resonance, but not in the way that he intended. In the speech he said that Manuel i's words were "startlingly brusque," and apparently made certain that the audience understood that he was reading a quotation.
Of course what he failed to do was allude to Christianity's history of violence, such as the crusades or the Inquisition. In every religion there are always people who take the "word" too literally and end up landing outside of the rational. Islam is tarnished by violence right now, but Christianity has been just as violent in the past.
But what do I say to my Mum when she says that she just watched the news and thinks that those who follow Islam might actually be homicidal maniacs, after all? I want to tell her off and encourage her to be open minded. But to my Mum she feels justified in saying this and thinking this, because Christianity's violence is in the past and Islam's is happening right now.
Because to her, the Pope's references to Islam's purported disposition for bloodshed caused some Islamic followers to become so enraged that they went out and killed a nun by shooting her in the back.
How can I argue against that logic?
All that aside, I genuinely don't think that it was the Pope's intention, when he quoted the Byzantine emperor, Manuel II, who described Islam as "evil and inhuman", to make some kind of Catholic first-strike against Islam. He may be misinformed and naive, but I don't think that he's stupid. Or at least not enough to think that he could imply that followers of Islam are homicidal maniacs and get away with it. I actually think that he knew that his words would carry some resonance, but not in the way that he intended. In the speech he said that Manuel i's words were "startlingly brusque," and apparently made certain that the audience understood that he was reading a quotation.
Of course what he failed to do was allude to Christianity's history of violence, such as the crusades or the Inquisition. In every religion there are always people who take the "word" too literally and end up landing outside of the rational. Islam is tarnished by violence right now, but Christianity has been just as violent in the past.
But what do I say to my Mum when she says that she just watched the news and thinks that those who follow Islam might actually be homicidal maniacs, after all? I want to tell her off and encourage her to be open minded. But to my Mum she feels justified in saying this and thinking this, because Christianity's violence is in the past and Islam's is happening right now.
Because to her, the Pope's references to Islam's purported disposition for bloodshed caused some Islamic followers to become so enraged that they went out and killed a nun by shooting her in the back.
How can I argue against that logic?
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Whenever I read a critics review of a movie that tells me that it is actually my "responsibility" to watch it, I end up feeling fairly resistant.
An Inconvenient Truth is a movie currently receiving such an accolade, but this time it didn't put me off because for quite a long time now I've had a secret crush on Al Gore.
Having now seen the movie, last night, I can reliably inform you that it is indeed everyone's responsibility to see it.
The movie is actually a combination of a keynotes speech where Gore addresses a lecture hall full of people using graphs, photographs and representations to demonstrate the key points about global warming and climate care - all to great effect. To break up these scenes and, I suppose, to lend a greater cinematic impression, the filmmakers have dropped in archive footage of Gore as a child, as a young man, at home, at work, as a younger and then elder statesman. There are also clips of him campaigning for his presidency and then clips of him losing. Gore narrates, or rather muses, over the top of these clips, but in a way that cleverly brings what we are seeing into context. For example, the scenes of his family consoling him after he loses out to Dubya, are there not to make us feel sorry for him, but to explain to us why he is here talking to us. Well, sort of.
I left the movie thinking two things:
The first was about the effect of global warming. Even at the one of the least dramatic levels, which in the movie is cited as being the partial melting of Antartica and / or Greenland, the sea level could rise about 20 feet (and if we carry on polluting the atmosphere they way we currently are, then this is almost certainly going to happen in my lifetime.) The repercussions would be gargantuan, resulting in the deaths of millions of people, not to mention the displacement of hundreds of millions of others. Put into context it makes other "important" issues such as the War on Terror and immigration seem like trifling irrelevancies (which they arguably are, anyway.)
The second is why-oh-why did Al lose out to George? What went wrong? Visually, the contrast between Al's handsome older-man "thang" and Dubya's gurning mug is really quite striking. George Bush Jr. almost always looks like a simpleton. Although I have no doubt that this was the intention of the filmmakers, as they trudged through the archives: to find the least attractive representations of him.
But what really comes out of the Gore / Bush comparison is that Gore clearly understands the war that he's campaigning for, what the positive effects will be if we win it and what will happen if we don't. This is in stark comparison to Bush, who probably understands very little, if anything.
I'm not entirely sure if An Inconvenient Truth was intended not only to be a call to arms, but also a presidential manifesto for a future Gore administration. It probably was. And while I don't pretend to be an aficionado on the intricacies of American politics, I do know that many people in 2008 will vote on a single issue.
Therefore whoever ends up running for office, I'm now convinced that the individual who is committed to the war against global warming, above anything else, is the one who should get the most votes.
After all, every issue - the War on Terror, the economy, human-rights, immigration, education, health - each of them pales into insignificance when you really look at and think about this ...
An Inconvenient Truth is a movie currently receiving such an accolade, but this time it didn't put me off because for quite a long time now I've had a secret crush on Al Gore.
Having now seen the movie, last night, I can reliably inform you that it is indeed everyone's responsibility to see it.
The movie is actually a combination of a keynotes speech where Gore addresses a lecture hall full of people using graphs, photographs and representations to demonstrate the key points about global warming and climate care - all to great effect. To break up these scenes and, I suppose, to lend a greater cinematic impression, the filmmakers have dropped in archive footage of Gore as a child, as a young man, at home, at work, as a younger and then elder statesman. There are also clips of him campaigning for his presidency and then clips of him losing. Gore narrates, or rather muses, over the top of these clips, but in a way that cleverly brings what we are seeing into context. For example, the scenes of his family consoling him after he loses out to Dubya, are there not to make us feel sorry for him, but to explain to us why he is here talking to us. Well, sort of.
I left the movie thinking two things:
The first was about the effect of global warming. Even at the one of the least dramatic levels, which in the movie is cited as being the partial melting of Antartica and / or Greenland, the sea level could rise about 20 feet (and if we carry on polluting the atmosphere they way we currently are, then this is almost certainly going to happen in my lifetime.) The repercussions would be gargantuan, resulting in the deaths of millions of people, not to mention the displacement of hundreds of millions of others. Put into context it makes other "important" issues such as the War on Terror and immigration seem like trifling irrelevancies (which they arguably are, anyway.)
The second is why-oh-why did Al lose out to George? What went wrong? Visually, the contrast between Al's handsome older-man "thang" and Dubya's gurning mug is really quite striking. George Bush Jr. almost always looks like a simpleton. Although I have no doubt that this was the intention of the filmmakers, as they trudged through the archives: to find the least attractive representations of him.
But what really comes out of the Gore / Bush comparison is that Gore clearly understands the war that he's campaigning for, what the positive effects will be if we win it and what will happen if we don't. This is in stark comparison to Bush, who probably understands very little, if anything.
I'm not entirely sure if An Inconvenient Truth was intended not only to be a call to arms, but also a presidential manifesto for a future Gore administration. It probably was. And while I don't pretend to be an aficionado on the intricacies of American politics, I do know that many people in 2008 will vote on a single issue.
Therefore whoever ends up running for office, I'm now convinced that the individual who is committed to the war against global warming, above anything else, is the one who should get the most votes.
After all, every issue - the War on Terror, the economy, human-rights, immigration, education, health - each of them pales into insignificance when you really look at and think about this ...
Friday, September 15, 2006
Itinerary
Now, I'm not normally one to boast (um?), but ...
In just over a week I'm jetting off to LA where a bike journo and I will ride along the Pacific coastline to San Francisco and then back again in just under five days.
In two weeks I'll actually be steering (for a small part of the journey) this very yacht ...
... to Spain from Monaco. I'll then be racing against the yacht, back to Monaco, in a luxury 4x4.
In four weeks I'll be in New York hanging out with The Strokes, who'll be driving publicity for an event that I have been helping to oversee.
In November I'll be in Morocco driving a brand-new 4x4 offroad with a bunch of lifestyle journos.
Finally I've begun to see a return on those turgid, corporate rivers of blood, sweat and tears.
The downside is that there's nothing like the opportunity to do things professionally that you will never, ever do in your private life to make you seriously question your reality and priorities.
In just over a week I'm jetting off to LA where a bike journo and I will ride along the Pacific coastline to San Francisco and then back again in just under five days.
In two weeks I'll actually be steering (for a small part of the journey) this very yacht ...
... to Spain from Monaco. I'll then be racing against the yacht, back to Monaco, in a luxury 4x4.
In four weeks I'll be in New York hanging out with The Strokes, who'll be driving publicity for an event that I have been helping to oversee.
In November I'll be in Morocco driving a brand-new 4x4 offroad with a bunch of lifestyle journos.
Finally I've begun to see a return on those turgid, corporate rivers of blood, sweat and tears.
The downside is that there's nothing like the opportunity to do things professionally that you will never, ever do in your private life to make you seriously question your reality and priorities.
Monday, September 11, 2006
An eventful date for an un-eventful day
Every morning, when I get to my desk, I change my voicemail message so that callers know my whereabouts and whether or not to try to get hold of me on my cellphone. As usual, this morning I re-recorded my message, beginning as always with today's date.
Ella, who sits in my team, turned to me and said, "That sounded really strange. When you read out the date."
It did sound strange, but only because today's date is no longer just "any old date". I think it was because I was using it in such mundane circumstances.
Used in similar commonplace contexts, I guess it will continue to sound strange for a long, long time. I wonder if it will never again be just like any other unremarkable date in the year. I know that it shouldn't be, but at the same time it feels sad that it won't be. But most of all that it ever had to become remarkable at all.
Ella, who sits in my team, turned to me and said, "That sounded really strange. When you read out the date."
It did sound strange, but only because today's date is no longer just "any old date". I think it was because I was using it in such mundane circumstances.
Used in similar commonplace contexts, I guess it will continue to sound strange for a long, long time. I wonder if it will never again be just like any other unremarkable date in the year. I know that it shouldn't be, but at the same time it feels sad that it won't be. But most of all that it ever had to become remarkable at all.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Wardrobe malfunction
I keep seeing this poster all over London and it has been bothering me. Am I imagining it, or does it look like Gisele is, er, "pleased to see us"?
Friday, September 01, 2006
Another gem from Mr. Lagerfeld:
About Pete Doherty: "His music - the look - is over now. There is nothing to think about. It is too late."
Utter dismissiveness. God, he's fabulous.
About Pete Doherty: "His music - the look - is over now. There is nothing to think about. It is too late."
Utter dismissiveness. God, he's fabulous.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
This evening I had a conference call with a client in Atlanta. The call was at 8pm, so at 6pm I decided to grab a newspaper and go to a nearby restaurant to have supper, before I came back to work for the call.
I sat in a quiet corner of the restaurant and just above and infront of me was a small television which was showing BBC News 24. At one point my attention strayed from the Evening Standard that I was reading to a news report about John Hogan, the man who recently jumped from a hotel balcony with his two children, an action which resulted in the death of his six year-old son.
The news report featured extended clips of this both literally and metaphorically broken man, crying uncontrollably as he was charged with the murder of his son and with his own attempted suicide.
During the report the waitress came over to take my order. She saw that I was looking at the TV and looked up to the screen herself. "Such a tragedy," she said. "How could he do it?"
I've heard a lot of people say similar things about this man over the past few weeks and while I can see why it is only natural that they should ask that question (after all, how many people, with complete sobriety, jump off a fifth floor hotel balcony with a child under each arm) I can't help but feel some kind of empathy for him and affinity for where he must be right now.
It was dazzlingly apparent to me, watching the news report, that John Hogan is a man deeply and desperately in remorse for what he has done to his son, his daughter (who survived with only a broken arm), his wife and the rest of his family, not to mention himself. Infact all of the objective news reports seem to all agree that John Hogan was a loving father and that what he did was completely out of character. While my circumstances are entirely different from his, I know what it is to wake up in an intensive care unit to be told that you have tried and failed to take your own life and as a result have your world completely fall apart.
I don't, and most likely will never know, what it is like to lose a child, let alone at my own hands. But I do know what it is like to experience something akin to insanity, regardless of what caused it. Each of us are passionate and often irrational creatures capable of wild and spontaneous actions that can last mere seconds, but have consequences that change everything and last a lifetime.
While I believe that anyone who breaks the law, in what ever way they have broken the law, should be prosecuted, I also believe that there always needs to be some kind of "human" factor to take into account what that person is going through in terms of remorse for their actions. I know that this does happen in some cases, but I don't think that it happens in all.
I hope that whoever decides upon John Hogan's ultimate sentence takes into consideration the massive apparent remorse he seems to be experiencing. This is a man who no doubt will suffer as a result of what he has done for the rest of his life.
But more than that I wish there was a way that I could tell John Hogan that not everyone is asking "why" and that not everyone despises him for what he has done.
I sat in a quiet corner of the restaurant and just above and infront of me was a small television which was showing BBC News 24. At one point my attention strayed from the Evening Standard that I was reading to a news report about John Hogan, the man who recently jumped from a hotel balcony with his two children, an action which resulted in the death of his six year-old son.
The news report featured extended clips of this both literally and metaphorically broken man, crying uncontrollably as he was charged with the murder of his son and with his own attempted suicide.
During the report the waitress came over to take my order. She saw that I was looking at the TV and looked up to the screen herself. "Such a tragedy," she said. "How could he do it?"
I've heard a lot of people say similar things about this man over the past few weeks and while I can see why it is only natural that they should ask that question (after all, how many people, with complete sobriety, jump off a fifth floor hotel balcony with a child under each arm) I can't help but feel some kind of empathy for him and affinity for where he must be right now.
It was dazzlingly apparent to me, watching the news report, that John Hogan is a man deeply and desperately in remorse for what he has done to his son, his daughter (who survived with only a broken arm), his wife and the rest of his family, not to mention himself. Infact all of the objective news reports seem to all agree that John Hogan was a loving father and that what he did was completely out of character. While my circumstances are entirely different from his, I know what it is to wake up in an intensive care unit to be told that you have tried and failed to take your own life and as a result have your world completely fall apart.
I don't, and most likely will never know, what it is like to lose a child, let alone at my own hands. But I do know what it is like to experience something akin to insanity, regardless of what caused it. Each of us are passionate and often irrational creatures capable of wild and spontaneous actions that can last mere seconds, but have consequences that change everything and last a lifetime.
While I believe that anyone who breaks the law, in what ever way they have broken the law, should be prosecuted, I also believe that there always needs to be some kind of "human" factor to take into account what that person is going through in terms of remorse for their actions. I know that this does happen in some cases, but I don't think that it happens in all.
I hope that whoever decides upon John Hogan's ultimate sentence takes into consideration the massive apparent remorse he seems to be experiencing. This is a man who no doubt will suffer as a result of what he has done for the rest of his life.
But more than that I wish there was a way that I could tell John Hogan that not everyone is asking "why" and that not everyone despises him for what he has done.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Ruined
Just over a week ago the owners of my company took all 150 of us to Oxford for a couple of days. During that time we generally indulged ourselves in much surreptitious, drunken, bawdy behavior.
A great time was had by all, especially at the mock-Woodstock type festival that was set up, with real stage and real bands, all in one of the gardens of one of the college houses. It was a fairly noisy affair.
A tad too noisy, perhaps.
A great time was had by all, especially at the mock-Woodstock type festival that was set up, with real stage and real bands, all in one of the gardens of one of the college houses. It was a fairly noisy affair.
A tad too noisy, perhaps.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Crack
I have succumbed and joined the MySpace revolution.
Can I just point out that I have been rabidly against doing this, because:
a) I didn't want yet another thing to distract me away from my work duties
b) when people talked about their MySpace profiles I wanted to be able to gloat that I didn't have one. You know, because I'm so fucking cool.
However, the reason I succumbed is because I am doing a project for work which requires me to join MySpace. Very irritating.
Despite that, please feel free to add me as a friend. Please! Because, um, I don't have very many at the moment ...
Can I just point out that I have been rabidly against doing this, because:
a) I didn't want yet another thing to distract me away from my work duties
b) when people talked about their MySpace profiles I wanted to be able to gloat that I didn't have one. You know, because I'm so fucking cool.
However, the reason I succumbed is because I am doing a project for work which requires me to join MySpace. Very irritating.
Despite that, please feel free to add me as a friend. Please! Because, um, I don't have very many at the moment ...
Friday, August 18, 2006
On Monday night I went to dinner with my ex-boyfriend, Will, and his new boyfriend, Jason, who were stopping off in London on a trip. The last time I saw Will was over two years ago, just before I left New York to come back to the UK.
Despite some obvious worries about seeing him, we had a really great evening. I met them at their friend's apartment in Baker Street, we went for a drink, my friend Sam (who had met Will before in NYC) met us, we went to dinner and then we went to the Shadow Lounge. Will was as I remember him: still cute, still funny, great company but I was relieved to find that my heart wasn't doing somersaults all over the place, the way it used to when we were dating.
Jason was also really great and I didn't feel in any way threatened by him. He's just a really nice, funny, interesting, really cute guy, but we're obviously very different people. He and Will made a great couple and I felt comfortable in their company.
It wasn't until I'd said goodbye and I got in a cab to come home that I began to feel absolutely dreadful.
I'd been worried about seeing Will, only because I thought that there was a chance that I would fall in love with him all over again. That didn't happen. I think I'd be lying if I said that I don't feel anything for him anymore, but I think the feelings I have are really just feelings of fondness. I felt myself kind of just wanting to hug him and muss up his hair, as opposed to wanting to make out with him, if that makes any sense?
Having now had a few days to think about it, I realise now that what spun me out was seeing my ex-boyfriend with his new boyfriend, seeing them so happy, seeing them play it out with each other. The way that Will would squeeze Jason's shoulder, touch his face, smile at him ... made me think back to the time when he would do the same things to me. And it wasn't that I wanted him to do them to me again, instead of Jason. I didn't even feel jealousy. They just served to remind me of something that I had kind of tried to put to the back of my mind.
I really want a boyfriend. And not (as I said to my friend Bill, yesterday) in the manner of (say it like a teenager), "I want a boyfriend!"
I want a partner. I want someone to share my life with. I've gotten past the point in my life where I just want to hook up with hot guys (note the operative word: "just"). I want someone to make me compromise my selfishness. I want someone to come home to when I finish work.
And while he might be lovely, Jamie, my straight house mate, doesn't really count.
Despite some obvious worries about seeing him, we had a really great evening. I met them at their friend's apartment in Baker Street, we went for a drink, my friend Sam (who had met Will before in NYC) met us, we went to dinner and then we went to the Shadow Lounge. Will was as I remember him: still cute, still funny, great company but I was relieved to find that my heart wasn't doing somersaults all over the place, the way it used to when we were dating.
Jason was also really great and I didn't feel in any way threatened by him. He's just a really nice, funny, interesting, really cute guy, but we're obviously very different people. He and Will made a great couple and I felt comfortable in their company.
It wasn't until I'd said goodbye and I got in a cab to come home that I began to feel absolutely dreadful.
I'd been worried about seeing Will, only because I thought that there was a chance that I would fall in love with him all over again. That didn't happen. I think I'd be lying if I said that I don't feel anything for him anymore, but I think the feelings I have are really just feelings of fondness. I felt myself kind of just wanting to hug him and muss up his hair, as opposed to wanting to make out with him, if that makes any sense?
Having now had a few days to think about it, I realise now that what spun me out was seeing my ex-boyfriend with his new boyfriend, seeing them so happy, seeing them play it out with each other. The way that Will would squeeze Jason's shoulder, touch his face, smile at him ... made me think back to the time when he would do the same things to me. And it wasn't that I wanted him to do them to me again, instead of Jason. I didn't even feel jealousy. They just served to remind me of something that I had kind of tried to put to the back of my mind.
I really want a boyfriend. And not (as I said to my friend Bill, yesterday) in the manner of (say it like a teenager), "I want a boyfriend!"
I want a partner. I want someone to share my life with. I've gotten past the point in my life where I just want to hook up with hot guys (note the operative word: "just"). I want someone to make me compromise my selfishness. I want someone to come home to when I finish work.
And while he might be lovely, Jamie, my straight house mate, doesn't really count.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
God is in my iPod
This morning I felt a bit, but not a whole lot, better.
In my continuing funk, when I got to the gym, I couldn't decide what music I wanted to listen to. So I let my iPod do all the work by putting it on shuffle.
Kitty Empire, the music editor for The Observer, once wrote that she thought that God was the shuffle facility on her iPod. I think I agree, because the very first song to play was this.
Ok, it's maybe a tad fromage-tastic, but somehow apropos and the lyrics really did make me feel sooooo much better.
Ah, iPods.
Is there anything that they can't do?
In my continuing funk, when I got to the gym, I couldn't decide what music I wanted to listen to. So I let my iPod do all the work by putting it on shuffle.
Kitty Empire, the music editor for The Observer, once wrote that she thought that God was the shuffle facility on her iPod. I think I agree, because the very first song to play was this.
Ok, it's maybe a tad fromage-tastic, but somehow apropos and the lyrics really did make me feel sooooo much better.
Ah, iPods.
Is there anything that they can't do?
I'm still here.
Lots of things have happened in the past two weeks that I can't even begin to tackle in a single post. I guess I'll have to make a concerted effort to write about them individually over the next few days.
I've written a lot about how over the past two years I've come a long way from where I used to be. But every now and then I have a day where I feel that a touch of that blackness that I used to feel so frequently. Yet however bleak things might seem in a single day, somehow I'm now always able to pull myself back up and soldier on.
I'm feeling that bleak darkness now, but I'm telling myself that tomorrow I'll wake up and I'll feel better. Even if it's only slightly better, it'll still be better and a long, long way from where I used to be.
I have such a charmed life with so many wonderful friends who add so much colour and fullness to everything.
I don't know where I'm going with this.
I'm feeling sad. But at the same time I can't help but feel incredibly lucky to be here.
Lots of things have happened in the past two weeks that I can't even begin to tackle in a single post. I guess I'll have to make a concerted effort to write about them individually over the next few days.
I've written a lot about how over the past two years I've come a long way from where I used to be. But every now and then I have a day where I feel that a touch of that blackness that I used to feel so frequently. Yet however bleak things might seem in a single day, somehow I'm now always able to pull myself back up and soldier on.
I'm feeling that bleak darkness now, but I'm telling myself that tomorrow I'll wake up and I'll feel better. Even if it's only slightly better, it'll still be better and a long, long way from where I used to be.
I have such a charmed life with so many wonderful friends who add so much colour and fullness to everything.
I don't know where I'm going with this.
I'm feeling sad. But at the same time I can't help but feel incredibly lucky to be here.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Ever questioned a gay mans credentials for dictating women's fashion? Well then, read this.
And who'd have thunk that Karl Lagerfeld would become my new hero? I must use the line "But I don't think you are well informed enough to make a discussion with me about this," ASAP!
And who'd have thunk that Karl Lagerfeld would become my new hero? I must use the line "But I don't think you are well informed enough to make a discussion with me about this," ASAP!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Ibiza
I love this! That comment pretty much epitomises the slightly obscure views that many of the elders at home have.
When you put that next to this, you'll start to understand why I tell people that I come from Bath (which is, incidentally, only 10 miles away and the nearest city.)
"Don't be ashamed of your roots," someone who didn't come from Trowbridge once said.
When you put that next to this, you'll start to understand why I tell people that I come from Bath (which is, incidentally, only 10 miles away and the nearest city.)
"Don't be ashamed of your roots," someone who didn't come from Trowbridge once said.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Chevy Chase
On Friday Helen emailed myself and a few other people with a question.
She has been researching schools for work and the results included a school in America called Chevy Chase. The name sounded familiar to her, so she plonked it into Wikipedia and it came up with him.
Her question had been: why had a high-school named itself after a comedian who had performed so unspectacularly in his own education?
This prompted a few of us to do our own Chevy Chase search and there are, in fact, a few things, people and places named Chevy Chase. One might assume that it was one of them that provided the inspiration behind the naming of afore mentioned internationally famous comic genius.
Helen's brother presented us with this place. It occurred to me, from the banality of the website (and my overactive, salacious imagination), that behind the normalcy of the white picket fences, ornamental street lights and flag-flying would be a veritable hotbed of incest, bisexual partner swapping and a touch of slavery.
But then I realised that the same could be said by someone visiting the website of my own home town.
She has been researching schools for work and the results included a school in America called Chevy Chase. The name sounded familiar to her, so she plonked it into Wikipedia and it came up with him.
Her question had been: why had a high-school named itself after a comedian who had performed so unspectacularly in his own education?
This prompted a few of us to do our own Chevy Chase search and there are, in fact, a few things, people and places named Chevy Chase. One might assume that it was one of them that provided the inspiration behind the naming of afore mentioned internationally famous comic genius.
Helen's brother presented us with this place. It occurred to me, from the banality of the website (and my overactive, salacious imagination), that behind the normalcy of the white picket fences, ornamental street lights and flag-flying would be a veritable hotbed of incest, bisexual partner swapping and a touch of slavery.
But then I realised that the same could be said by someone visiting the website of my own home town.
Monday, July 24, 2006
An open letter to straight men
Hello straight men! How are you? Me? Oh, I'm good, thanks for asking.
Hey, so I know that our conversations are usually fairly awkward, with you saying things like, "You probably aren't interested in football are you, mate?" and "That's so gay! Er, I don't mean it like that. I know loads of gayers," with me then responding with a much-practiced faux laugh and grin which hides a lifetime of pained despair ... but listen up, because I actually have some advice that mayhelp the World become a more beautiful place help you pull birds more.
Now, I did make my thoughts on this subject quite clear some time ago, but just to refresh your memory ... three-quarter length trousers (also known as Capri pants) - so not a good look. No. Not even when you accessorise them with cheapo camouflage flip-flops from H&M, a too-tight beige T-shirt with "Sit on my face" written over your moobs and a lukewarm can of Holston Pils, deftly wedged in between your pudgy fingers and thumb.
Now come on. Don't be like that. It's not just because your loosely toned legs have the complexion of downy-haired chalk ...
Er. Ok. It is because of that. I'm not saying that us gay men are any better, because we have also been known to wear them as well (well, not me, or at least not for a very long time). But when we do at least we've recently gone to the effort of visiting a tanning salon or even Selfridges beauty hall to buy a bottle of St. Tropez.
So, I'll cut you a deal. If you promise to stop inflicting us all to the sight of your pasty, hairy pins in those bloody horrible, nasty trou-shorts then I promise that I'll never, ever tell anyone that when you were 14 you licked it. You know, just to see what it tasted like.
Lots of (platonic) love,
Christopher
x
Hey, so I know that our conversations are usually fairly awkward, with you saying things like, "You probably aren't interested in football are you, mate?" and "That's so gay! Er, I don't mean it like that. I know loads of gayers," with me then responding with a much-practiced faux laugh and grin which hides a lifetime of pained despair ... but listen up, because I actually have some advice that may
Now, I did make my thoughts on this subject quite clear some time ago, but just to refresh your memory ... three-quarter length trousers (also known as Capri pants) - so not a good look. No. Not even when you accessorise them with cheapo camouflage flip-flops from H&M, a too-tight beige T-shirt with "Sit on my face" written over your moobs and a lukewarm can of Holston Pils, deftly wedged in between your pudgy fingers and thumb.
Now come on. Don't be like that. It's not just because your loosely toned legs have the complexion of downy-haired chalk ...
Er. Ok. It is because of that. I'm not saying that us gay men are any better, because we have also been known to wear them as well (well, not me, or at least not for a very long time). But when we do at least we've recently gone to the effort of visiting a tanning salon or even Selfridges beauty hall to buy a bottle of St. Tropez.
So, I'll cut you a deal. If you promise to stop inflicting us all to the sight of your pasty, hairy pins in those bloody horrible, nasty trou-shorts then I promise that I'll never, ever tell anyone that when you were 14 you licked it. You know, just to see what it tasted like.
Lots of (platonic) love,
Christopher
x
Sunday, July 23, 2006
On Friday I was in the UK's biggest selling national newspaper. Not on page 3, as some of my friends have wittily retorted, but on page 5 of the motoring section.
The reason why was because the bike editor had reviewed the motorcycle course I took last month and wanted to use a picture of someone who had passed. So there at the foot of the page was yours truly, smiling handsomely in his motorbike kit, crouched next to a real-life motorbike. All very marvelous, except for the caption, which read:
"My fellow student: Chris [surname]"
It was like God had been reading my blog this week and decided to publicly defecate on my head.
But the really weird thing was that on the way home from work I stopped by a newsagent to buy my own copy of the newspaper and my name had changed to "Christopher".
Now I know that most newspapers (including the one I was in on Friday) have several print runs and that sometimes the front-page splash might change depending on a breaking story, but really ... is the correct form of my name so important to actually "stop the press" over?
Well yes, actually. It bloody well is.
The reason why was because the bike editor had reviewed the motorcycle course I took last month and wanted to use a picture of someone who had passed. So there at the foot of the page was yours truly, smiling handsomely in his motorbike kit, crouched next to a real-life motorbike. All very marvelous, except for the caption, which read:
"My fellow student: Chris [surname]"
It was like God had been reading my blog this week and decided to publicly defecate on my head.
But the really weird thing was that on the way home from work I stopped by a newsagent to buy my own copy of the newspaper and my name had changed to "Christopher".
Now I know that most newspapers (including the one I was in on Friday) have several print runs and that sometimes the front-page splash might change depending on a breaking story, but really ... is the correct form of my name so important to actually "stop the press" over?
Well yes, actually. It bloody well is.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Aftermath
Five people have responded exclaiming that they, also, don't like the shortened versions of their names, but thus far have felt that they could not speak up in opposition of their use.
One department head thinks that I am hilarious and have a clever way with words.
*stony face*
I am and I do.
My immediate board director thinks that I should be called whatever he sees fit to call me, which is currently CK (my surname begins with a K.) For obvious sartorial and super-hero alias reasons, I can live with this.
It has also created something of an existential debate: can one influence or complain over the choice of his or her nickname? My opinion is no, but a shortened version of one's name is technically not a nickname.
It's a minefield! It really is.
One department head thinks that I am hilarious and have a clever way with words.
*stony face*
I am and I do.
My immediate board director thinks that I should be called whatever he sees fit to call me, which is currently CK (my surname begins with a K.) For obvious sartorial and super-hero alias reasons, I can live with this.
It has also created something of an existential debate: can one influence or complain over the choice of his or her nickname? My opinion is no, but a shortened version of one's name is technically not a nickname.
It's a minefield! It really is.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
What is now an open letter
I just sent this email to my entire company and now I'm starting to have pangs of regret:
Dear All,
(I'm opening myself up to a barrage of emails here, but anyway ...)
When I joined the company there was one thing I didn't list as a "dislike" and that is people calling me "Chris". However, the trend for calling me just that is, to my disturbance, growing. I'm making no judgements on any of the culprits, because that would alienate most of the people I work closely with (some of whom are in charge of my salary and my having a job here!)
But until somebody comes up with a name for me which I deem to be even better than my actual moniker (e.g. Brutallyhottopher) it'd be much appreciated if you could just call me Christopher.
You can, of course, call me anything you like behind my back (and you probably will after having read this email.)
I love you all!
Christopher
Dear All,
(I'm opening myself up to a barrage of emails here, but anyway ...)
When I joined the company there was one thing I didn't list as a "dislike" and that is people calling me "Chris". However, the trend for calling me just that is, to my disturbance, growing. I'm making no judgements on any of the culprits, because that would alienate most of the people I work closely with (some of whom are in charge of my salary and my having a job here!)
But until somebody comes up with a name for me which I deem to be even better than my actual moniker (e.g. Brutallyhottopher) it'd be much appreciated if you could just call me Christopher.
You can, of course, call me anything you like behind my back (and you probably will after having read this email.)
I love you all!
Christopher
Sunday, July 16, 2006
"How big are you? I mean, how tall are you?"
More about Thursday night's date tomorrow. In the meantime I'd like to introduce you to my new crush: Brandon Routh / Clark Kent / Kal-El / Superman / whatever:
I've read reviews which have commented on how good the film is, if only half an hour too long. The first part of the that I agree with, but the latter ... ridiculous. I mean, look at the man! Only the most red-blooded heterosexual male could be irritated at having to endure literally hours and hours and hours of staring at his near-perfect form. In my opinion the movie was not long enough, by far.
Kate Bosworth, on the other hand, was shite. Bring back Margot Kidder, even if she is 57 years old.
I've read reviews which have commented on how good the film is, if only half an hour too long. The first part of the that I agree with, but the latter ... ridiculous. I mean, look at the man! Only the most red-blooded heterosexual male could be irritated at having to endure literally hours and hours and hours of staring at his near-perfect form. In my opinion the movie was not long enough, by far.
Kate Bosworth, on the other hand, was shite. Bring back Margot Kidder, even if she is 57 years old.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
This morning I went to the gym and for the first time had a conversation with the brutally hot guy who has been cruising me for the past few months. A conversation that resolved itself by him agreeing to go for a drink with me on Thursday night.
"Would you like to go for a drink with me?"
"Yes."
It's a simple dialogue and who knows? Maybe it will set me on the path to this:
But then again, it may set me on the path to this:
(I Googled "anguish" and it came up with that picture. As any gay boy knows, the only way to properly experience anguish is to buff-up and wear tighty-whities with legs akimbo.)
"Would you like to go for a drink with me?"
"Yes."
It's a simple dialogue and who knows? Maybe it will set me on the path to this:
But then again, it may set me on the path to this:
(I Googled "anguish" and it came up with that picture. As any gay boy knows, the only way to properly experience anguish is to buff-up and wear tighty-whities with legs akimbo.)
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Friday, July 07, 2006
Today the world's analysts, politicians and general public are questioning the logic behind Kim Jong-il's decision to executively-order his defense task force to undertake one of most provocative military gestures of the past 50 years.
But I have another question:
Why did The Guardian's graphic design department choose to represent human-to-Taepodong-2 missile scale with a figure that looks suspiciously like Michelangelo's David?
Look!
I can only think of two possible reasons:
The figure is not only a scale point, but is also an historic reference in a modern context: David as Korean rocket scientist. Michelangelo's statue (based on the Biblical King David at the moment he decided to do battle with Goliath) eventually came to represent the city of Florence as an independent state threatened by more powerful enemies. In this instance Florence is North Korea. It hardly seems to be an appropriate use of symbolism.
The alternate reason is that David is representing poor little western culture which is about to be nuked by a fucking massive rocket. Also inappropriate, when you consider that the combined military prowess of the US and friends would more than overwhelm North Korea and little Kim Jong-il.
Which reminds me - the answer to the question at the top of this post:
It's because he's short.
But I have another question:
Why did The Guardian's graphic design department choose to represent human-to-Taepodong-2 missile scale with a figure that looks suspiciously like Michelangelo's David?
Look!
I can only think of two possible reasons:
The figure is not only a scale point, but is also an historic reference in a modern context: David as Korean rocket scientist. Michelangelo's statue (based on the Biblical King David at the moment he decided to do battle with Goliath) eventually came to represent the city of Florence as an independent state threatened by more powerful enemies. In this instance Florence is North Korea. It hardly seems to be an appropriate use of symbolism.
The alternate reason is that David is representing poor little western culture which is about to be nuked by a fucking massive rocket. Also inappropriate, when you consider that the combined military prowess of the US and friends would more than overwhelm North Korea and little Kim Jong-il.
Which reminds me - the answer to the question at the top of this post:
It's because he's short.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Sarah is another account director and sits at the desk next to mine. We just had a fragrance fight. It was PR chemical warfare, with my Abercrombie & Fitch Fierce pitted against her Jo Malone Tuberose.
After we stopped fighting (I won!), her phone rang and she answered with, "Oh, hello! Sorry! I'm a bit out of breath. I've just been having a perfume fight with Christopher."
That has to be the gayest opening gambit relating to me, EVER!
God, I stink and my skin's itching.
After we stopped fighting (I won!), her phone rang and she answered with, "Oh, hello! Sorry! I'm a bit out of breath. I've just been having a perfume fight with Christopher."
That has to be the gayest opening gambit relating to me, EVER!
God, I stink and my skin's itching.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Look! Goldfrapp come from Bath! That's so funny because, you know, I also come from Bath!
Huh. Weird!
Huh. Weird!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Yesterday I went to lunch with an old friend from school who is having a few problems with her boss. The problems that she is encountering are not insurmountable objects, which she knows, but they are on top of other, more serious, things going on in her personal life, the main one being that her Dad is receiving chemotherapy treatment for cancer.
Towards the end of lunch we discussed how as we have gotten older our need to discuss our problems and issues with anyone who will listen has lessened. In fact there are lots of things that we don't discuss at all and the ones that we do discuss are usually with the people that we have known for the longest.
It wasn't very long ago that I felt the need to talk about all of my problems, all of the time, to pretty much anyone who would lend an ear. The fact that I don't feel the need to do this anymore is just another example, I think, of how I have grown up in the past two or three years.
When I was younger I lacked experience and I doubted myself and my judgment and I had a total lack of conviction in any decisions that I made. You need other people's opinions to make you feel validated. Similarly, when people had their own problems I was always chomping at the bit to proffer my own point of view and advice, because in a round about kind of way it would make me feel better about the decisions I had made in my own life.
These days the idea of discussing some guy I quite like with a relative stranger is really unappealing. That person doesn't know the person I'm talking about and they more than likely don't know me and all the things I have been through and how those things have gotten me to this point in my life. I don't discuss my sexual exploits with people I work with anymore, not because I'm ashamed of myself or of those things, but because it has become boring to hear girls screech and say things like, "But doesn't it really hurt?" (No. It feels great!)
Don't get me wrong. I love meeting new people and making new friends. But I love the warm blanket feeling I get from thinking about all of the people who have been through everything with me over the past 18 years or so and that I have gotten to the point in my life where when I do need to talk about things, they listen and understand and get me and the situation quick enough for the conversation not to have to drag on over hours and hours of sobbing and nose blowing.
Towards the end of lunch we discussed how as we have gotten older our need to discuss our problems and issues with anyone who will listen has lessened. In fact there are lots of things that we don't discuss at all and the ones that we do discuss are usually with the people that we have known for the longest.
It wasn't very long ago that I felt the need to talk about all of my problems, all of the time, to pretty much anyone who would lend an ear. The fact that I don't feel the need to do this anymore is just another example, I think, of how I have grown up in the past two or three years.
When I was younger I lacked experience and I doubted myself and my judgment and I had a total lack of conviction in any decisions that I made. You need other people's opinions to make you feel validated. Similarly, when people had their own problems I was always chomping at the bit to proffer my own point of view and advice, because in a round about kind of way it would make me feel better about the decisions I had made in my own life.
These days the idea of discussing some guy I quite like with a relative stranger is really unappealing. That person doesn't know the person I'm talking about and they more than likely don't know me and all the things I have been through and how those things have gotten me to this point in my life. I don't discuss my sexual exploits with people I work with anymore, not because I'm ashamed of myself or of those things, but because it has become boring to hear girls screech and say things like, "But doesn't it really hurt?" (No. It feels great!)
Don't get me wrong. I love meeting new people and making new friends. But I love the warm blanket feeling I get from thinking about all of the people who have been through everything with me over the past 18 years or so and that I have gotten to the point in my life where when I do need to talk about things, they listen and understand and get me and the situation quick enough for the conversation not to have to drag on over hours and hours of sobbing and nose blowing.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Ok, I didn't die but my Mum's other dog, Poppy, did. Not on the racetrack, but back at home in Wiltshire. She'd had leukemia for a while now, so it wasn't entirely unexpected.
Although how cool would it have been if she had died racing sportsbikes around a racetrack?
I felt a bit sad about it the last couple of days, because those two dogs have been such a huge part of my Mum's house for me. I'm borrowing one of the motorbikes to ride home to Bath this weekend and it's so strange to think that they won't be there. It's going to be really quiet without them.
However, the weird thing with my family and dogs is that almost as soon as one passes on, another comes along by some random coincidence. One of Mum's friends has just found out that she's pregnant, just a few months after getting a dog. She already has two children so has decided that it's going to be too full a house to keep the pooch around so it looks as if Mum's going to have it.
Personally I would have terminated the baby and kept the dog, but that's just me.
Although how cool would it have been if she had died racing sportsbikes around a racetrack?
I felt a bit sad about it the last couple of days, because those two dogs have been such a huge part of my Mum's house for me. I'm borrowing one of the motorbikes to ride home to Bath this weekend and it's so strange to think that they won't be there. It's going to be really quiet without them.
However, the weird thing with my family and dogs is that almost as soon as one passes on, another comes along by some random coincidence. One of Mum's friends has just found out that she's pregnant, just a few months after getting a dog. She already has two children so has decided that it's going to be too full a house to keep the pooch around so it looks as if Mum's going to have it.
Personally I would have terminated the baby and kept the dog, but that's just me.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Easy rider
Well, I kinda was already, but now I am officially. I passed my motorbike test!! And now I'm off to Italy to race sportsbikes on two track days. Hopefully I'll be here to talk about it on Monday.
Have a great weekend y'all!
Have a great weekend y'all!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Oh, the comedy of it ...
Apparently being on holiday is conducive to good blogging. That is, if good blogging can be described as posting links to TV commercials.
I clearly remember this from my teens and it's f***ing brilliant!
I clearly remember this from my teens and it's f***ing brilliant!
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Last Friday my motorbike leathers turned up at work and naturally I brazenly discreetly tried them on in front of the whole office.
The comments that I received were generally quite positive, but back-handed, in the sense that the girls (and one guy) seemed genuinely surprised by the fact that they made me look hot. One of the girls even said I looked like Maxwell Caulfield:
And another said that I looked like Tron:
And the fact was, they did make me hot. Hot in the sense that I lost about five pounds of body weight in just ten minutes. And that was in an air-conditioned office and not on an Italian race track, where the predicted temperature is in the high-30s.
I started my training today and passed my CBT. On the FIRST DAY!!! Usually you pass by the end of the second day, so this means that I am awesome.
But it doesn't mean that I have passed my *test*, which is on Friday. I'm still convinced that I'll fail, simply because some omnipotent being wants to laugh at me, sweltering in my racing leathers, not able to ride any of the sports bikes, because I failed my test.
Overall, I'm good at U-turns, emergency stops and slipping the clutch (in a good way.) I'm not very good at lifesavers (figures.)
The comments that I received were generally quite positive, but back-handed, in the sense that the girls (and one guy) seemed genuinely surprised by the fact that they made me look hot. One of the girls even said I looked like Maxwell Caulfield:
And another said that I looked like Tron:
And the fact was, they did make me hot. Hot in the sense that I lost about five pounds of body weight in just ten minutes. And that was in an air-conditioned office and not on an Italian race track, where the predicted temperature is in the high-30s.
I started my training today and passed my CBT. On the FIRST DAY!!! Usually you pass by the end of the second day, so this means that I am awesome.
But it doesn't mean that I have passed my *test*, which is on Friday. I'm still convinced that I'll fail, simply because some omnipotent being wants to laugh at me, sweltering in my racing leathers, not able to ride any of the sports bikes, because I failed my test.
Overall, I'm good at U-turns, emergency stops and slipping the clutch (in a good way.) I'm not very good at lifesavers (figures.)
Friday, May 26, 2006
On Tuesday I took and passed my motorbike theory test, which was a result, because despite revising for four weeks, beforehand, I'd been taking the test on a computer programme all weekend and kept failing!
In just over a week's time, I am going up to Brum for the week to do an intensive training course with the test on the Friday: the final day.
But the thing that really sets this all off is that on that same day work is flying me to Milan, to race sports bikes around a circuit. I'm going to be wearing something like this:
No prizes for anyone who can spot the danger in a novice (to say the least) rider haring around a race track at speeds in excess of 100mph. I guess at least I'll look brutally hot in my leathers, as I'm stretchered off to hospital.
In just over a week's time, I am going up to Brum for the week to do an intensive training course with the test on the Friday: the final day.
But the thing that really sets this all off is that on that same day work is flying me to Milan, to race sports bikes around a circuit. I'm going to be wearing something like this:
No prizes for anyone who can spot the danger in a novice (to say the least) rider haring around a race track at speeds in excess of 100mph. I guess at least I'll look brutally hot in my leathers, as I'm stretchered off to hospital.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Sunday, May 07, 2006
My name is Christopher. Nice to meet you.
There are two specific things you can do when you first meet me that are both guaranteed to get up my nose and ensure that we will never, ever be friends.
The first is to shake my hand so hard that I find it hard not to yelp as I feel the bones crush and a couple of fingers dislocate. Granted, no ladies have ever done this to me, but plenty of guys have. I've often thought that those guys either a) don't realise that their handshake is a pathway to a whole other world of pain, or b) that their handshake is some kind of neo-Neanderthal attempt at proving an alpha-male status. Seriously, either learn to take your handshake down a notch or two or the next time you crush my metacarpals I'll stab you in the heart.
The second thing you can do which will make me despise you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns is to call me Chris ... immediately after I just introduced myself as Christopher!!! (The caveat is that it is ok to call me Chris if I introduced myself to you by that name, which would have been at any point prior to 1996.)
The fact that I used to be a Chris is irrelevant. I always preferred Christopher to Chris, but my parents started the trend immediately after I was born and for a long while it stuck. A bit later in life, when I began my career, I decided to adopt my full moniker. So it's not me being precious or anything like that. It's just that I have a nice name and I prefer it to the shortened version.
And I'm sorry, but just immediately shortening someone's name is rude and overly familiar. Do you think it's acceptable to shorten Catherine to Kate, Elizabeth to Lizzie, Marilyn to Maz, or John to Jack (never really understood that though. Isn't the idea of shortening someone's name supposed to make it, er, shorter?)
So, just to summarise, if you do this:
"Hey Chris! Nice to meet you!" *crushes hand in vice-like grip*
... I may very well stab you in the heart. Twice.
Unless you're really hot, in which case I'll just be all giggly.
The first is to shake my hand so hard that I find it hard not to yelp as I feel the bones crush and a couple of fingers dislocate. Granted, no ladies have ever done this to me, but plenty of guys have. I've often thought that those guys either a) don't realise that their handshake is a pathway to a whole other world of pain, or b) that their handshake is some kind of neo-Neanderthal attempt at proving an alpha-male status. Seriously, either learn to take your handshake down a notch or two or the next time you crush my metacarpals I'll stab you in the heart.
The second thing you can do which will make me despise you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns is to call me Chris ... immediately after I just introduced myself as Christopher!!! (The caveat is that it is ok to call me Chris if I introduced myself to you by that name, which would have been at any point prior to 1996.)
The fact that I used to be a Chris is irrelevant. I always preferred Christopher to Chris, but my parents started the trend immediately after I was born and for a long while it stuck. A bit later in life, when I began my career, I decided to adopt my full moniker. So it's not me being precious or anything like that. It's just that I have a nice name and I prefer it to the shortened version.
And I'm sorry, but just immediately shortening someone's name is rude and overly familiar. Do you think it's acceptable to shorten Catherine to Kate, Elizabeth to Lizzie, Marilyn to Maz, or John to Jack (never really understood that though. Isn't the idea of shortening someone's name supposed to make it, er, shorter?)
So, just to summarise, if you do this:
"Hey Chris! Nice to meet you!" *crushes hand in vice-like grip*
... I may very well stab you in the heart. Twice.
Unless you're really hot, in which case I'll just be all giggly.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Bad
I have found that going to New York, coming back again, going to Amsterdam, coming back again, dating someone, moving house, etc, is not conducive to good blogging.
I have had more great stories to tell in the past few weeks than I have had in a long while, but conversely no time to think about writing about them.
Anyway, this is cheating, kind of, I guess, but I need to post something, so here's a meme sent to me by my lovely friend Helen (who will be 32 on Friday):
1. What time did you get up this morning?
8.00am
2. Diamonds or Pearls?
Diamonds
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Inside Man
4. What is your favorite TV show?
The OC, although season 3 has sucked slightly
5. What did you have for breakfast?
A chai latte and a low-carb doughnut
6. What is your middle name?
Jonathan
7. What is your favorite cuisine?
Fish and chips with curry sauce from the Ancient Mariner in Trowbridge (Tim: I'm expecting a comment on this one alone!)
8. What foods do you dislike?
I'm struggling with this one. Oh! Whole fish. I'm scared of unprocessed fish the same way some people are about snakes. They FREAK ME OUT!!!
9. Your favorite Potato chip?
Sea salt and black pepper kettle chips
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
"Logic Will Break Your Heart" by The Stills
11. What kind of car do you drive?
An SUV
12. Favorite sandwich?
Breakfast sandwich
13. What characteristics do you despise?
My characteristics, but only in other people
14. What are your favorite clothes?
Jeans and a white T-shirt
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation? Vietnam or Cambodia
16. Where WOULDN'T you go?
Blackpool
17. Favorite brand of clothing? Alexander McQueen (expensive)
American Apparel (inexpensive)
18. Where would you want to retire to?
A town house on the outskirts of Bath
19. Favorite time of day?
8am on a Saturday
20.Where were you born? Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire
21. What is your favorite sport to watch? Tennis
22. Who do you think will not link to this meme?
Helen, because she's already done it
23. Person you expect to send it back first?
Um. I know, but I'm not telling!
24. Pepsi or Coke?
Pepsi
25. Beavers or Ducks? Ducks
26. Are you a morning person or night owl?
Like Helen said, I'm flexible as it depends on what is going on
27. Pedicure or Manicure?
Manicure
28. Favorite food to order out at a restaurant?
Lemon chicken and special fried rice from Deliverence
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? I just moved to Shoreditch!!!
30. How many times have you really been in love?
Twice
31. Did you marry one of #30?
No
32. What is your best childhood memory?
Being taken to The Tropicana water park in Weston Super Mare by my Grandma and Auntie Viv
33. Favorite movie?
That's a tricky one. Three Colours Blue or When Harry Met Sally
34. Do you have a Will?
Yes. It's very, very strong!
35. Piercings?
Yes, in my ear and it's never ever closed over even though I haven't properly worn a piercing for years
36. Ever been to Africa?
No, but that will change in December
37. Ever been toilet papering?
No. I think that's an American thing
38. Been in a car accident?
No, thank God!
39. Favorite day of the week?
I want to say Friday, because of the anticipation, but anyone who knows me will know that I would rather it was Christmas Day than Christmas Eve, because it's closer to unwrapping my presents. So Saturday
40. Favorite restaurant?
Criterion in Piccadilly Circus
41. Favorite flower?
Camelia
42. Favorite ice cream?
Haagen Daz [sic] Strawberry
43. Favorite fast food restaurant?
McD
44. What is your dream job?
(Unrealistic and unatainable) internationally famous film star, but not a sell out. A male version of Gwyneth Paltrow
(Realistic, but still unatainable) or an accident and emergency physician
45. From whom did you get your last e-mail?
Katie. She sent me this:
46. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
Brown's Focus
47. Bedtime?
11pm
48. Last person you went to dinner with?
Andy
49. What are you listening to right now?
Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen
50. What is your favorite color?
Purple
51. How many tattoos do you have?
1
52. What time did you finish this?
10.15am
53. Favorite magazine?
Vanity Fair, especially when it features anything written by Maureen Orth
I have had more great stories to tell in the past few weeks than I have had in a long while, but conversely no time to think about writing about them.
Anyway, this is cheating, kind of, I guess, but I need to post something, so here's a meme sent to me by my lovely friend Helen (who will be 32 on Friday):
1. What time did you get up this morning?
8.00am
2. Diamonds or Pearls?
Diamonds
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Inside Man
4. What is your favorite TV show?
The OC, although season 3 has sucked slightly
5. What did you have for breakfast?
A chai latte and a low-carb doughnut
6. What is your middle name?
Jonathan
7. What is your favorite cuisine?
Fish and chips with curry sauce from the Ancient Mariner in Trowbridge (Tim: I'm expecting a comment on this one alone!)
8. What foods do you dislike?
I'm struggling with this one. Oh! Whole fish. I'm scared of unprocessed fish the same way some people are about snakes. They FREAK ME OUT!!!
9. Your favorite Potato chip?
Sea salt and black pepper kettle chips
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
"Logic Will Break Your Heart" by The Stills
11. What kind of car do you drive?
An SUV
12. Favorite sandwich?
Breakfast sandwich
13. What characteristics do you despise?
My characteristics, but only in other people
14. What are your favorite clothes?
Jeans and a white T-shirt
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation? Vietnam or Cambodia
16. Where WOULDN'T you go?
Blackpool
17. Favorite brand of clothing? Alexander McQueen (expensive)
American Apparel (inexpensive)
18. Where would you want to retire to?
A town house on the outskirts of Bath
19. Favorite time of day?
8am on a Saturday
20.Where were you born? Bradford on Avon, Wiltshire
21. What is your favorite sport to watch? Tennis
22. Who do you think will not link to this meme?
Helen, because she's already done it
23. Person you expect to send it back first?
Um. I know, but I'm not telling!
24. Pepsi or Coke?
Pepsi
25. Beavers or Ducks? Ducks
26. Are you a morning person or night owl?
Like Helen said, I'm flexible as it depends on what is going on
27. Pedicure or Manicure?
Manicure
28. Favorite food to order out at a restaurant?
Lemon chicken and special fried rice from Deliverence
29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? I just moved to Shoreditch!!!
30. How many times have you really been in love?
Twice
31. Did you marry one of #30?
No
32. What is your best childhood memory?
Being taken to The Tropicana water park in Weston Super Mare by my Grandma and Auntie Viv
33. Favorite movie?
That's a tricky one. Three Colours Blue or When Harry Met Sally
34. Do you have a Will?
Yes. It's very, very strong!
35. Piercings?
Yes, in my ear and it's never ever closed over even though I haven't properly worn a piercing for years
36. Ever been to Africa?
No, but that will change in December
37. Ever been toilet papering?
No. I think that's an American thing
38. Been in a car accident?
No, thank God!
39. Favorite day of the week?
I want to say Friday, because of the anticipation, but anyone who knows me will know that I would rather it was Christmas Day than Christmas Eve, because it's closer to unwrapping my presents. So Saturday
40. Favorite restaurant?
Criterion in Piccadilly Circus
41. Favorite flower?
Camelia
42. Favorite ice cream?
Haagen Daz [sic] Strawberry
43. Favorite fast food restaurant?
McD
44. What is your dream job?
(Unrealistic and unatainable) internationally famous film star, but not a sell out. A male version of Gwyneth Paltrow
(Realistic, but still unatainable) or an accident and emergency physician
45. From whom did you get your last e-mail?
Katie. She sent me this:
46. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
Brown's Focus
47. Bedtime?
11pm
48. Last person you went to dinner with?
Andy
49. What are you listening to right now?
Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen
50. What is your favorite color?
Purple
51. How many tattoos do you have?
1
52. What time did you finish this?
10.15am
53. Favorite magazine?
Vanity Fair, especially when it features anything written by Maureen Orth
Friday, April 21, 2006
Reasons to be sad to leave NYC
Well, one actually. Our dedicated waiter last Sunday night at Hiro:
Seriously though, I was a good boy. For once, I'm taken.
Seriously though, I was a good boy. For once, I'm taken.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Back
I'm mortally hungover. I have vague recollections of putting $5 in a go-go dancers thong, stealing underwear from a party in a store and talking to actor Luke Wilson in the elevator on my way back to my room.
It would seem that I am back in NYC.
It would seem that I am back in NYC.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Madonna rip-off shocker
One of the great things about working for the particular company I work for is that I get really, really good perks.
Yesterday morning I had the opportunity to purchase tickets to see Madonna, after they had all sold out in eight minutes. The tickets, however, with absolutely no mark-up added, were one hundred and twenty pounds! These were for pretty basic seats in the arena and were certainly not going to be so close to the stage that you were going to be sprayed with sweat everytime she "expressed herself".
I think I truly am a lapsed Madonna fan now, because I categorically object to having to pay fucking one hundred and twenty pounds for a fucking ticket to see some almost over-the-hill pop star probably get another hernia attempting dance moves that her backing dancers can clearly do better than her!!!
As I told my work colleague, I would rather spend the money on a flight to see old friends in Italy than line the pockets of a multi-millionaire octogenarian songstress.
Hmm. Perhaps I'm getting old, too?
Yesterday morning I had the opportunity to purchase tickets to see Madonna, after they had all sold out in eight minutes. The tickets, however, with absolutely no mark-up added, were one hundred and twenty pounds! These were for pretty basic seats in the arena and were certainly not going to be so close to the stage that you were going to be sprayed with sweat everytime she "expressed herself".
I think I truly am a lapsed Madonna fan now, because I categorically object to having to pay fucking one hundred and twenty pounds for a fucking ticket to see some almost over-the-hill pop star probably get another hernia attempting dance moves that her backing dancers can clearly do better than her!!!
As I told my work colleague, I would rather spend the money on a flight to see old friends in Italy than line the pockets of a multi-millionaire octogenarian songstress.
Hmm. Perhaps I'm getting old, too?
Friday, April 07, 2006
I think that's the longest I've gone without posting for quite some time.
I've been incredibly busy at work organising this New York press trip. Tickets for flights needed to be booked by the close of play on Thursday and by close of play on Wednesday I had only one person confirmed. Which made my own position on the trip that much less tenable. But as is always the way the other two confirmed at the last minute. Now all is good.
So I leave on Tuesday morning and I arrive back in London the following Tuesday. Strangely I'm not particularly nervous about it. Thankfully I have a lot to when I am there and strangely I will also have enough English people there, while I am there to help cushion the emotional impact. My old flatmate, Lynda, and her boyfriend Gary will be there at the same time, as will by board director who I have known for ten years and my managing director who, sycophancy aside, is one of my favourite people at work.
On Tuesday night I am going to a party for a top tennis star, followed by a party David LaChapelle is throwing for Amanda Lepore and her new blow-up sex doll. That should be a hoot, natch. Then on Wednesday I am at the NYC International Auto Show all day, which is AWESOME! In the evening I have a dinner at the Mercer Kitchen. On Sunday I am having Easter lunch at my friend Lincoln's mom's place on the Upper East Side.
And at some point I am also going to see Will, my ex-boyfriend, for coffee. I realised yesterday that when I see him it will have been almost exactly two years since we split up.
It's all a bit surreal. I probably sound like a total drama-queen.
Anyway, I will take lots of photos and will try to post where I can.
I've been incredibly busy at work organising this New York press trip. Tickets for flights needed to be booked by the close of play on Thursday and by close of play on Wednesday I had only one person confirmed. Which made my own position on the trip that much less tenable. But as is always the way the other two confirmed at the last minute. Now all is good.
So I leave on Tuesday morning and I arrive back in London the following Tuesday. Strangely I'm not particularly nervous about it. Thankfully I have a lot to when I am there and strangely I will also have enough English people there, while I am there to help cushion the emotional impact. My old flatmate, Lynda, and her boyfriend Gary will be there at the same time, as will by board director who I have known for ten years and my managing director who, sycophancy aside, is one of my favourite people at work.
On Tuesday night I am going to a party for a top tennis star, followed by a party David LaChapelle is throwing for Amanda Lepore and her new blow-up sex doll. That should be a hoot, natch. Then on Wednesday I am at the NYC International Auto Show all day, which is AWESOME! In the evening I have a dinner at the Mercer Kitchen. On Sunday I am having Easter lunch at my friend Lincoln's mom's place on the Upper East Side.
And at some point I am also going to see Will, my ex-boyfriend, for coffee. I realised yesterday that when I see him it will have been almost exactly two years since we split up.
It's all a bit surreal. I probably sound like a total drama-queen.
Anyway, I will take lots of photos and will try to post where I can.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
He feels the same way! Whoo!
The only potential issue is that from Monday we will also be work colleagues, although we will be working in different departments. I think we'll have to keep things on the lowdown. Or at least until we get engaged.
Ooh! We can be all furtive and kiss in the elevator and stuff! How exciting!
I love liking people.
The only potential issue is that from Monday we will also be work colleagues, although we will be working in different departments. I think we'll have to keep things on the lowdown. Or at least until we get engaged.
Ooh! We can be all furtive and kiss in the elevator and stuff! How exciting!
I love liking people.
Friday, March 24, 2006
I've been asked to go to New York on business for one week on April 11. It is the first time I will have been back since I left just under two years ago. I'm really excited, but also quite scared as well. It's going to be a test. I've so far only told three of my friends there (although by posting this I probably told a couple more!)
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Bonjour, Helene!
My dear friend Helen, who recently left the shores of England for those of South Africa to be a missionary, or a midwife, or a sex worker, or something ... has posted her first blog entry!
Apparently she will make a post a week as reliable and fast internet connection is not richly available in South Africa.
Let's check out her stories! But they'd better be interesting or she'll find herself wiped from my links list quicker than you can say, "16 years of friendship."
Apparently she will make a post a week as reliable and fast internet connection is not richly available in South Africa.
Let's check out her stories! But they'd better be interesting or she'll find herself wiped from my links list quicker than you can say, "16 years of friendship."
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