Monthly Archives: May 2006
Tie-in Lego is bad, except for Star Wars and these Batman sets. I’ll have the action figures only please.
Interesting selection of beautful portraits, really intense sexual settings and use of glam faux-corpses to sell shoes: Loic Peoc’h NSFW
Continuing the death sells theme: Izima Kaoru
Variety and quality of work from many photogs: Art Department Photography
And finally, the excellent Sex In Art NSFW
As it was payday for me today (my last of the course) I went for some retail therapy. Or at least attempted to, as I ended up with two jumpers and a pair of trousers as everything else I tried on was clearly designed with the 13 year-old Sienna Miller wannabe in mind. Yes, I bought jumpers as it is very cold in my residence at the moment, as the powers that be think that by this time of year we should obviously be sweltering so there’s no heating. Brrr.
I know i’m not anorexic nor am I obese but I seem to be outside the norms for body shape if what I tried on is the standard bodyplan of women in this country. Well I know I am- looonng legs, flat backside and a short podgy torso, broad shoulders and sturdy upper arms- built for go rather than show, baby. I don’t fit.
Plus although it’s cold outside it’s the time of year of the bikini onslaught- the floaty dresses, bikinis, short shorts and bright colours of the Summer. It’s slightly depressing in that I don’t fit (bikinis ak!) or don’t have the confidence (bikinis again…) nor do I have the holiday or occasion to wear any of these things to. I’ll just stick with my jumpers.
I also bought Jamie Lidell’s Multiply- An excellent purchase. I’ve got the first Super_Collider album but this is very different; Lidell’s voice is fabulous and is fully utilised on Multiply’s electronic-soul outing.
Will be Totally Non-stop Actioning at Mid Atlantic’s tomorrow. I was looking forward to it but after hitting myself enough times I am now suitably resigned.
No, I do not have a hickie (I wish)- use of the Burn tool in Photoshop to pick out the letters, fools. I like the way I look like I have some sort of flesh-eating disease. Necrotizing Fasciitis is just *so* picturesque.
So my alphabet pasta necklace successfully winged it’s way over the Atlantic. It is lovely and I am pleased.
I also now have milk, so I can stop stealing from other people’s bottles in the fridge. The milk did not come across the Atlantic.
You know you’ve let things go when all you’ve got to drink is cider.
Okay, i’ve got water, but that’s just boring- no milk so I can’t have regular tea, coffee or hot chocolate nor any juice. At least it’s nice cider *grins*
Ah, the delights of an evening getting hazy in front of some Peckinpah…
I have just found some Buttons I had forgotten I hadn’t eaten in my Easter egg. I am now consuming the Buttons. Woooo!
I spent my Sunday lazing under the blanket with Patrick. We had a good time together, although I cried at the senseless destruction of Dev and Paro’s love and was grumpy because I found out the milk I had left had decided to grow yellow blobs. Eugh. We also watched Vertigo for the first time in a few years and again I teared up as Jimmy Stewart stood out on the ledge whilst being buffeted by the wind. Must be one of those days…
Reservoir Dogs cheered me up.
Was it obsession, did Scottie know all along, or is everything he went through just symbolic of what we all go through when we love someone? I think I must be the ultimate cynical romantic- believing everything is bullshit but after enough persistance melting over the smallest most sentimental of things.
I’ve had a few drinks over the last few days and it gets difficult when the overly-relaxed mind wanders on to people you know you shouldn’t be thinking of. You want to say “Come out, come see me, let’s have some fun” but you know you are wrong and just deluding yourself with the past, with memories of good times that can never be. I shouldn’t be thinking of them… I shouldn’t have to make any effort… I did not do anything wrong… so why is it I am always the one left behind in their wake?
I appear to be so starved of affection that like I said above, the smallest things come to mean so much. People who can get affection at the drop of a hat see those small things that are so important to me as throwaway things, and therefore have a self-imposed licence to cut fast and loose with my feelings. I guess I’m just feeling fed up because I’m tired and because I spent the weekend out around town with various people asking how I was or offering opinions that he’s a fool and one day will wise up to what he’s done and what he’s missed out on.
I beg to differ; no-one has ever truely cared for me and thus will never wise up or see what they’ve lost because if they cared they wouldn’t hurt me in the goddamn first place. Ultimately, I’m just not that important to them.
Bloody hell, now I am thoroughly un-cheered. Must pick something else to distract myself… hmmm… Aliens?
So I had a very enjoyable night out with my closest gals; it was excellent to see them all and I think the birthday girl was suitably happy. I spilled copious amounts of fluorescing gin down my leg, got my pirate hat molested on a far too regular basis, and got approached by far too many morons attempting to make conversation by talking about piracy.
“Why are you wearing a pirate hat?”
“Did you know that most pirates were of the, erm, male persuasion?”
“Actually, that was just one particular colony of pirates who lived off the coast of South America who lived without any women.”
“What’s a Pirate’s favourite number?”
Their face falls and I am victorious. Ha.
I hate it when drunks inititate conversation. I really don’t want to talk but I feel I have to so as to not offend, like if I don’t talk then i’ll get a punch in the face. I keep my answers short and curt hoping that they will get my drift and fuck off… but no, they lack social awareness and continue to pester and then get offended when I won’t reveal any details about myself. I have a surly look on my face most of the time anyway- hardly open to their advances. I find it hard not to laugh when they then go on to ask for my phone number, I mean why even bother?
Talking about bothering, I’m glad I have a break coming up. I’m getting that whistful feeling where I begin to miss certain intimate company, and the prospect of a few days close to both my blanket and Patrick is most welcome. I Totally Non-stop Actioned today so I will have to find something else to satisfy; a trip into town may be in order to get something to distract myself, if I can be arsed. So that’ll be me watching my Spongebob dvds then. Sigh.
I’ve had two hours sleep and approximately eight units… I’m so damned tired.
As I walked back from the bus stop I’ve been turning over the horrible fantasy in my mind of being slightly drunken and coming home to someone. Weaving Piratically-attired through the door into the bedroom and stripping unsteadily and incompetantly before attempting a stealthy insertion under the duvet…
Wrapping my arms around my Sweetie who turns over and holds me before running his fingers through my hair and pulling me close into his body. I would too-loudly whisper a hello, and my Sweetie would push my hair back in the dark and whisper back “Hello My Drunken Monky” before giving me a gentle kiss.
So after essentially giving up on my essay with 2000 words typed and my printer running out of black ink on the morning I was due to hand everything in, grovelling got me until Friday. Sigh.
I have greatly enjoyed my three skool-free days; the end of my course is nigh and once i’ve handed in my essay it’s pretty much downhill from then onwards. I have enjoyed being skool-free far too much I think. It’s not even the extra hour in bed that makes it good, I think it’s the feeling of freedom. Not that I have any, as I am still forced to go to university, but it just feels different I suppose. I’ve had junk food for lunch for two days in a row now. Woo.
Once I’ve finished off Friday I am greatly looking forward to spending the evening getting dressed up, going out and having several drinks with close friends. Rehashing the Mid Atlantic incident whilst inebriated is like, super fun, and at least means I can laugh about things as I rant. Yay.
Sex toys good. Free sex toys better.
Number of words written so far: zero.
So I’ve been thinking… Sex of the heterosexual and penetrative form- What’s the point?
From research it has been generally found that approximately 70% of women do not experience orgasm through vaginal penetration. It has also been theorised that so-called difficulty of bringing a woman to orgasm is an evolutionary tactic, because a male who bothers is clearly going to be more attentive in a relationship, leading to well-supported offspring. Which of course is what sex and love is all about.
It takes an average of twenty minutes of clitoral stimulation for a woman to reach orgasm.
When penetrative sex occurs the man experiences pleasure due to stimulation of the highly sensitive penis which is loaded with nerve endings. The woman is not stimulated through penetrative sex in the same way so this results in no orgasm. In my (albeit limited) experience there seems to be an expectation that sex ends after male orgasm through penetration. I totally understand that it’s not like there is only one person involved and that because males orgasm through that form of physical stimulation you must sort of sacrifice your own pleasure for that of the other. It’s give-take.
It’s an interesting construct- human genitals being perfectly designed for the “correct” task of heterosexual sex that actually bears no relation to female pleasure. Combined with idea of what it is to be a man and the ideas of male sexuality it seems an impossibility for women to have satisfying sexual lives. From a structural point-of-view, homosexual sex is much better.
I am only talking about orgasm here and not desire or intimacy, comfort etc. although the ideals of sexuality impact on these too- men are Pavlovian animals designed to react in an unfeeling, powerful, penetrative manner to the smallest of stimuli. Yes men are more visually orientated than women but that does not preclude them from experiencing feelings of intimacy (comfort, care, security etc).
Maybe it’s just me who thinks too much- I’m the sort of moron who in the middle of sex cannot stop thinking ‘what’s the point of what’s going on here, exactly?’ and experiences feelings of alienation and dissatisfaction (maybe because i’m not enjoying myself fully? because I’m crazy?). Yeah, just me. Sometimes I just feel like throwing my hands up and going fuck it- I can’t be arsed with this shit. We’re obviously here for your pleasure so just fucking come and be done with it. Like, this is never going to work for me- I’m bored already.
I think the next poor sap I manage to hook up with is going to have my entire sexual life-history related to them so I can shut up and maybe manage to enjoy myself, depending on their competancy of course :D See, that was the idea with Mid Atlantic (years of talking, relating etc.) so I would feel comfortable… didn’t *quite* work- emotional intimacy leading to more enjoyable physical intimacy but ultimately to getting taken for a ride. Yee haw.
WTF am I going on about? I’m not entirely sure- Male/female norms of sexual behaviour is something I just think about a lot. Maybe it’s down to my experiences or maybe it’s just something I find intriguing; I think it’s probably a combination of the two. Of course maybe it’s just because I’d like some physical and emotional intimacy at the moment. Is it because I am too singular that I am never seen as a going prospect for partner? Fuck… that is a whole ‘nother conversation.
The idea of something classed as biological when it could be considered entirely social is very interesting to me, but I think it ties up with my interest in love, attraction etc. existing as culturally-sanctioned, chemically-induced behaviour moulding phases. Woah.
The Clitoris.com Vaginal Orgasms NSFW
Shere Hite Beauty of Men’s Sexuality
Yes, so the essay still hasn’t been completed. Ha.
WFMU: Hot Dog Preparation with Jack Bauer
I swear, to have Kiefer unleashing the Sutherland Velvet upon me even if it were only to narrate my monthly trip around Tesco would be killer. I think you would probably find me using my trolley as physical support as I would have melted so much I would be unable to stand. Yes, it would be messy.
So I don’t have a job, there are fireworks going off outside so it sounds like i’m being shelled, I do not have perfect abs nor a significant other… but
- My car was fixed and it didn’t cost an arm nor a leg and now proudly sports a shiny new exhaust (all better my little battered one)
- I had a good conversation on the phone to France and my Mum in which we laughed about how I get pissed off when she pesters me about getting a job (light relief at last)
- I had fish and chips for tea (which they now put in a box blatently to control portion size boo!)
- I have milk and bread to last the entire weekend (multiple fried egg sandwiches and tea woo!)
- My m-o-n-k-y necklace has been made and is winging it’s way across the Atlantic for me (hooray)
- I went on a toy spree just so I could get a free vibrator (bank balance boo but physical well-being yay)
So expect posts lamenting my stupidity at leaving things to the last minute and cursing the world when I have written about 100 words total.
Ooooooooo… It sure is windy outside this evening.
So I thought fuck it, and applied somewhere. My covering letter is somewhat hilarious but I tried my best to make it brief and convey who I am and what i can do. We shall see.
My poor car’s exhaust is totally gorked- I had to call in as being late and get the bus. It’s hopefully going to be fixed tomorrow- I really hope it doesn’t cost too much; I am quite concerned. I thought it just had a crack in the pipe but upon inspection this morning as I was about to drive to skool I found it has totally sheared through. Ak. I have my fingers crossed I will be able to get my poor little car to the garage without everything falling off…
Artificial food is mesmerising to look at. So look.
Whilst others are having debates such as the nature of the cyborg as metaphor for feminism, this is the highly intellectual conversation I had with myself this evening:
What shall we watch Monky?
Ha. Arsenal are losing at the moment. The Gooner bench are crying in the rain.
How about some TV?
No, I think we’ll watch some wrestling, because Monky is ill and wrestling makes the Monky feel better.
Blanket. Patrick. TNA. *Happy*
In bed before Cinderella time? Now that is truely a holy shit event.
My chestyness is making me cough ’til I gag. Eugh.
Still feeling weirded-out by the Mid Atlantic meeting. I think relations will improve over time but it’s almost like I have to start again with our friendship. I remember being shy and hesitant when I met him years back (as I am wont to be when meeting new people); it’s not quite the same (hell, I was ranting about young professionals) but I feel like the rug of familiarity has been pulled out from under us so I don’t quite know what to do or how to treat him. I imagine he is similarly stumped and bless him I think he’s trying. I’m just so unsure about things.
Kandinsky apparently painted to music and so will Year 9 tomorrow. Or at least they will draw and cut and paste. I have to select a few tracks to play them and I am taking the choice far too seriously. Well, I think I am just plain work aversioning. It is an excellent opportunity to warp 30 kids- Maybe I should play them some Aphex Twin or Squarepusher; I think gabba might be just a little too extreme.
So I met up with Mid Atlantic. He drank two bottles of juice and I drank one bottle of cider over two hours. I went home at 11pm.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been- all eye makeup is still in place, I am writing this levelly from my room without spazzing out- But it wasn’t exactly great either. Lots of lon-n-n-g gaps in conversation. Awkwardness. I sat and made a tiny origami crane out of my cider bottle label whilst he talked about work; I talked about my boring life; we talked about wrestling for about four minutes. He lent me his Best of The X Division dvd and I picked out who I would consider getting intimate with (Raven for the dirty cerebral workout and Eric Young for the hair and his ability to throw himself at my feet. From the top of a ladder).
I began to rant a bit more and laugh a bit more as I approached the bottom of my bottle, but it was all rather depressing at the end of the evening. Is this what our friendship is going to be like from now on? This is the appropriate and sanitised friendship we are supposed to have? I realise it was the virgin outing post-disaster, but I just felt kinda crap over things. If things stay the same as they are at the moment, can I keep this friendship going?
I spent a good proportion of the evening wondering what the hell I was doing there and grinning to myself at the total abusrdity of our situation. Not that we have a situation, understand. I wonder whether he thinks I am some sort of sad deluded psycho freak? When I got the weak goodbye hug he suggested meeting up to watch wrestling with a friend of his; to be honest I was like, yeah, sure, whatever as I laughed my way off to my night bus home. I think I need to give things time to settle.
We didn’t discuss what had transpired between us, and to be frank didn’t exactly find a whole lot to talk about in general. I tried my best to be open, affable and keep the cutting comments to a minimum but I still felt really detached. I really hope things improve.
To go from being given praise, having the idea of a relationship floated to pretty much nothing is just so darned sad. Special? In a “not girlfriend material” type of way maybe… At the end of the day I am just not *that* important and not in *that* way.
Got to just try to forget, try not to care. Ultimately you can only really rely on yourself, right? Better to hurt yourself and clip your own wings than have others do it for you.
The late night repeater- Through Time by Roisin Murphy. Could there be something such as beautifully flawed?
Godamnit. I was spring cleaning my Zen and decided to delete my Jones and X.Ray shows I had lovingly recorded, thinking that I had copies of them on my external drive. Well I don’t and now I am left Jones and X.Rayless- two really good shows too, the Halloween special and one with a really good Bee Gees track followed up by Frankie Valli singing Grease. Now I am left with the Real media archives. Sigh. And I know this affects no-one and is the ultimate navel-gazing post, but I miss my Jonesy and X.Ray on demand. Boo.
Really good stuff: Photos from merkley??? (NSFW)
There’s another thing to add to my list of things about me- I would like someone to take some hot photos of me. I think I could put on a decent show, with enough practice. I think I just need a remote release- Stick to the toys…
I have recently re-discovered my breasts. I mean, they’re there (it’s not like I can leave them behind) and I forget about them, but every so often it’s just good to give them a squeeze. Not in a pervy way, just in a “pleasingly dense and malleable” way- they may be relatively small but they feel good cupped through my t-shirt, just sort of right.
Yeah, so I know i’m weird, like, already. I wonder if anyone else catches themselves feeling their weight?
Cup-a-soups. Cuppa soups. Whatever: Re-hydratable soup that comes in a powdery formulation that is packaged in a foil packet. Have you ever seen cup-a-soup in a bowl? It’s just plain bizarre.
It is so thin in consistancy that it somehow suits being served in a cup- It would be classified on the beverage branch of the liquid familial tree. Along with stock cubes.
Saturday- spending the morning warming up to doing some work by browsing reviews on PunterNet of local “escorts” and the like. I find the sites of local prostitutes very interesting because you usually get to read a bit about them and they have pictures of (supposedly) themselves in a variety of poses and settings. Also I like the idea that when you go out for the evening some women around you might be running meters.
I have always found the background setting of pornography fascinating- The anonymous hotel rooms with their brightly patterned bedspreads to hide stains, the “bosses office” with the phones, planners and pen pots to make it look “realistic”, the locker room etc. I did a series of artworks based on this interest, blanking out the performer so that you were left with a coloured void and the crummy set behind.
Ah, artwork. How I would love to do some- maybe remake my Clyfford Still-inspired piece on a larger-scale and using more durable materials. I think a series of large paintings of my voids and backgrounds would be good, but of course I still have the longing to make my Mr Orange warehouse films. I have to find an AVI to MPEG converter first (freeware ‘cos i’m cheap) so I can edit Reservoir Dogs in Premiere. Grrr.
But I gotta write 3000 words, write a log I haven’t done, update my professional portfolio, sort out lesson plans and think about putting together a portfolio for interview. Oh and find a job. With this, Mid Atlantic will be a welcome relief come Monday.
Oh and listening to tracks from FMGT, Moistworks, Palms Out Sounds and High tide on the sea of synths from Motel de Moka. And sneezing a lot, but now my back only hurts when I breathe. Hooray!
Happy Day of Doom day!
Aaand my answer is…. See how it goes.
Meeting up Monday. He’s offered me the loan of his Best of the X Division dvd, perhaps as some sort of offering to appease the Gods. We shall see.
Pain in my back that makes me feel sick and makes my breathing very shallow. Not good.
Arranging a meet up with Mid Atlantic for next week. It’s going to be awkward fun. How will I feel when he walks through the door? What will we talk about? Him and his behaviour? Or everything else but what happened and ignore the elephant in the room? Or would it just be better to pretend nothing happened, because I might get upset, and Mid Atlantic has never seen me cry…
I did not do anything wrong but in some warped way I feel like I was to blame for me getting hurt- Like a victim opening the door to an assailant. I know that whenever I would get hurt by The Monster I would behave in a very specific way: Self-contained, distant, viewing everything through narrowed eyes and a protective shield of ice. Anything to stop myself getting hurt again. “You alright Monky?” “Yes.” “It’s just you seem sort of distant.” “I’m fine.” Work it out!
As I wrote to Mid Atlantic, saying sorry means you will never do it again- There is no need to keep apologising, especially when misdemeanors are repeated ad infinitum so that sorry becomes meaningless. I have been upfront about my thoughts and feelings on events rather than burying them as with The Monster, and it’s not like Mid Atlantic has no idea what he’s done wrong. Maybe it’s my warped thinking, but I think what he did pains him, as it should do- Or maybe I just like to think that it pains him. He should suffer for his transgressions mwah mwah mwah… Ahem.
I want to see him because I miss him because I thought he was great. Am I on a losing streak from the very outset?
Ow… back… need rub… sigh
Whilst I write and sort documentation I am having a Bond theme session courtesy of James Bond Multimedia. It’s fabulous and listening to all of them in chronological order is geeky fun.
Most of them have wonderful orchestration in the background of excellent, strong vocals and I am reminded that Bond themes are very contemporary to their day. After Lulu and The Man With The Golden Gun there’s a distinctly dodgy period- All Time High anyone? Post Gladys Knight and her Licence To Kill things start to go a bit downhill but Tomorrow Never Dies is very good- Crow’s vocals are quite raw but convey the right amount of bitterness and pain required for a song about loving James Bond.
An excellent soundtrack to turn up loud in my headphones and strike a pose to. Working of course.
After three years of careful self-censorship I was asked to change how I write here.
So anyway, I have that professional portfolio thing to do, right? So I spent the post-school period sleeping, waking up at 9pm, panicing thinking that it was 7am and I had to go to school and “fixing” the archive structure on the blog.
Howto: Future-proof URLs in Movable Type
- I have been known to find rape scenes in films arousing. Yes, I know. Do you think I want to be turned on?
- I used to giggle far too much when Val Venis would do his towel/grinding thing.
- If I won the lottery I think the first car I would buy would be the old-style Honda Civic Type-R. Then I think I would buy a 1960’s Mustang or maybe a Camaro.
- A ride in a Peugeot 106 at 100mph+ was the most fun I have ever had in a car.
- I come across as quiet and introverted to people I do not know, but as time passes I “blossom” into a riot.
- I find men in uniform hot.
- Non-familial family aruguments make me feel very anxious.
- If I make a mistake I usually apologise for being born before the other can criticise. Or I try and pretend it’s not happening. I think this behaviour is derived from fear of my Dad.
- I open cereal packs on a particular side- the one with the scientific data and ingredients on.
- I went through a phase of thinking my right hand suffered from favouritism so if given a choice I would always pick things on the left to even the score.
- I regret my performance the last time I was in bed. I need time to practice on someone first and I need to feel secure. I feel so dorky and that I am letting my partner down.
- I’ve been told I have nice shoulders. This was a compliment I enjoyed.
- I have neither an inny nor an outy belly button. Sort of a small hollow.
- I have an overhang.
- Some people think I am childish because I am into having fun and am interested in lots of unusual things. These are the same people who think I am stupid and try and take advantage.
- I like a man that can manhandle me. You know, pick me up, wrestle, that sort of thing.
- I enjoyed my last bed-partner more than my previous one. There are benefits to being a confessed manwhore.
- I think white limousines are tacky. Me and Madonna agree.
- I would like to be blindfolded and get off.
- I would like to be tied up/cuffed and get off.
- I am always amazed anyone does anything for me.
- I am very bad at keeping in touch with people (sorry Madame Murty, Mrs Joshua Jackson, Muff, Leia Ewok Village, Mr Hughes, Hello Dave/Jonny Vegas, Ra and My Gorgeous Texan
- I find MW#1 intimidating when he gets close to me.
- I would like to get another tattoo. I think I would pick a design I saw in the British Museum in the Wellcome Gallery of Living and Dying or something dark and floral.
- My favourite flavour of ice cream is Chocolate Fudge Brownie. Mmmm.
- I suck my thumb and rub my nose to comfort myself. No I have never had braces.
- My only two ambitions in life are to open a doughnut shop and a really good sex shop- when I say good, I mean nicely outfitted with good products and friendly to all. My two shops will be called Cop Shop for the fried/baked goods and Cock Shop for the goodies.
- I have had three surgeries to remove growths from in and around my sinuses. One of the growths removed from the inside of my airways was a couple of inches long. Ak.
- When I lie down and tilt my head sometimes you can hear the contents of my head shifting from side to side.
- I think that peanut butter and iceberg lettuce make a good sandwich.
- I ate cheese, cucumber and mayonnaise-filled pitta bread practically every day when I was at Primary school.
- I think spikey hair is attractive.
- I prefer brunettes.
- My token pretty boy is SPF.
- I once took a pregnancy test in a shopping centre’s toilets. I was two months late. It was thankfully negative.
- I don’t drink beer due to it’s vomit inducing abilities (and not through overdoing it). It just tastes well, er, disgusting.
- I enjoy a pint of cider. Or vodka and mixer.
- I do not like aniseed or liqorice flavours, milk or mint when combined with alcohol. See entry for Monday, 29 August 2005 (Flaming Lamborghini)
- I like Coco Pops. I enjoy mixing them with cornflakes or weetabix or on their own.
- I have perfect bloodpressure.
- No-one has ever made me orgasm. I think this is down to me not being able to switch off and relax because I have never had sex in a caring relationship. Me and a toy and I have no such issues.
- I have never and will never fake it.
- In bed I like to dominate now and then, but only if the bed-sharer attempts to dominate back.
- If I ever get hitched I will NOT have cream-coloured invitations. I think aubergine purple and lime green is a far nicer combo.
- Being alone in a room with my Dad makes me feel uncomfortable.
- I can be described as part Scottish/English/Irish/French/Egyptian.
- I lost about 700 quid on The Monster.
- I won a 50 quid bet with a Young Professional (Ra) that two years later I would still love wrestling. I also won a tenner betting that nothing would happen between me and Mid Atlantic over a six month period. It took me another year to break that one.
- I think being stranded on an Island with Captain Jack Sparrow would be a good thing. With or without the rum.
- If I was male my Mum would have called me Kevin. I think this was around the time Mr Keegan was doing rather well in Germany.
Whilst upgrading Gallery I managed to get myself blocked from accessing nopokemeo.org. Seemingly I was over-eager on the ftp-ing.
Anyway, i’ve uploaded some of the photos off my super-sekrit Flickr account for your amusement.
Some are actually quite good, even if I say so myself.
I went to see a midnight screening of Slither last night- It was super. I laughed my arse off and got to see Captain Tightpants looking teh hawt in a police uniform. Packing a gun. And humour. Getting pumped full of alien seminal fluid. Whilst covered in blood. Eeeeeeeeee.
Seriously, it was very very good. When a karaoke version of The Crying Game comes on screen and you start cracking up before you actually see any actors, you know you’re onto a good thing.
It had zombies in it too and quite a few genuine “eww” moments. And Michael Rooker. Woo! I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a soft spot for him, in the same kind of way as I have for Mark Harmon (Ak). I must schedule a viewing of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (I’ve heard his performance is excellent). Or watch Eight Men Out and then I get to get a dose of John Cusack and more importantly DB Sweeney.
Ah, Nathan… I think I shall proceed to have a mini-crush on the erstwhile young Indiana Jones (sorry SPF). Someone said I can’t have both Jayne/Adam and Mal/Nathan at the same time- I would heartily disagree. I can multi-task… and everyone knows that when defending my rights I would so win if it came down to putting on the foil.
Hmmm… Jayne AND Mal at the same time… stop it….
I squee-ed more over Jayne in Firefly but I have to say that in Serenity Mal was much more attractive to me. I think it’s because Jayne was a disappointment and (if you could call his character subtle in any way) less rounded in the BDM whereas Mal’s “Han Solo left alone for just too long and disappointed too many times” was much more interesting.
Yes, basically I go for the tortured ones.
Anyways, I have found a superb music blog- Feed Me Good Tunes. Contains a great selection of music, and most of it available to download. Share the love.
From FMGM Wagon Christ’s Shadows has been on permanent rotation these last couple of days. *Such* a good track; sampled I think from John Barry (James Bond) with a soaring voice repeating shadows over the top. My writing may make it sound terrible, but it is truely a wonderful track.
Wow. Violet has alerted me to the presence of a Miss Betty Lipstick– legal gal by day and hot tattooed temptress by night. She’s a fiercely beautiful woman.
NSFW Betty Lipstick Bonus Photos
She practices celibacy too which in this day and age is quite interesting. Look for her in the June Edition of Playboy.
On a side note- compare the differences between Playboy US and Playboy UK. Homegrown is so much better- the girls are not all peroxide blonde sticks, have actually got their tits out and the shoots are classier. Though that maybe Klassy with a Kapital K.