Monthly Archives: May 2007
nopoke should be available as an atom feed now so that you can be updated as to when I have published new words of wisdom i.e. more ranting… In Firefox you should see the lil’ RSS broadcast button in the top right of your address bar… in tabbed IE you should see it on the bar at the top of your page.
If it don’t work, let me know.
Assorted things that i’ve come across of late…
My favourite big gay cop takes a tumble: YouTube Chuck Liddell Vs Rampage Jackson
Automatic photographic panoramas AutoStitch
Giant shiny transport planes All About Guppys
Attach Orbiter Here Image:Shuttle mounting point.JPG
Only Roy, only in clingfilm (Slash/Fan fic parody) Ulli’s Roy Orbison in Cling-film site
Imperial Walker papercraft SF PaperCraftGallery
Early Jim Henson: YouTube The real Computer Monster
Boing Boing Star Wars cake wars: Max Rebo pastry vs. Death Star dessert
Colette Hazelwood Message Bangle Bracelet
“Many are the stars I see but in my eye no star like thee” British Museum Gold ‘posy’ ring
Jewellery reflecting contemporary ritual Rituals
Beautiful, simple jewellery Grace Girvan
Oldie but a goodie Meg’s Boyfriend of the Week
Boing Boing Tattoo typography
Nowhere Gallery Riccardo Boldorini
NSFW DIRTY FOUND
NSFW Radar Online New Erotic Photography
NY Mag Reinterpreting Richard Avedon’s Portrait of Marilyn Monroe
“… Kultgen goes beyond the fear-of-commitment story that’s been pushed a thousand times (High Fidelity, Garden State, etc.) He rightly posits that if guys fear commitment, there’s a reason, and that reason might be that they can’t relate to the women they pursue. This scares them, because eventually they’re expected to marry one.
So they devolve into jadedness and cynicism as they approach marrying age, dating women whom they’re just not that into, feeling increasingly alienated and trapped, until they begin to loathe women in general.” Average American Male
First day proper of half term and I awoke after midday to an invitation to partake in some watching of wrestling. Unexpected and exciting. Because i’m sad. Anyway, I spent the next few hours in bed adding to my RSI editing 100 images of kids work and generally being like a smaller, more-clothed, less green version of Jabba the Hutt on his dais. One thing accomplished out of the many things I have to do this week. Hooray.
I listened to some Peter Tosh (Stepping Razor is awesome), checked my Super Sekrit Flickr account for activity and posted an annoyed message on the Creative support boards about how they’re worse than Microsoft. Bah.
Then MW#1’s for ECW and TNA. As per usual I lost it soon into the evening as I was reduced to tears over a period of about twenty minutes or so- tears of laughter from playing “spot the Cracker” in the wrestling audience. Like I said, SAD. Discovered that Samoa Joe (a Samoan-American lump of a man) is amazingly camp when speaking. Pizza, hours and hours of men in tights and a good non-itchy blanket to cocoon myself in. Happy.
Way, way past Cinderella hour: Left sickly MW#1 with a hug and a pat on the back… zombie-like state of mind… meandered alone avec pizza box through rubbish-strewn streets to a taxi and home. I feel warm and very fuzzy.
I feel like I haven’t done much to justify how tired I am; maybe it’s all the laughing that’s taken it out of me, maybe it’s the weekend or work hitting me. It’s cold too- hibernation is the obvious answer.
New in the gallery – Ripped
So, whilst dressed in full piratical regalia I met up with Caversham Princess, Bobby Convey, McCy, M, Leia Ewok Village and Woods, Tiger and took in Pirates 3. Once I was fully geared up I realised how much i’ve missed dressing up in my corset and assorted accoutrements. Sigh. I was pleasantly surprised by the film- it was over long, overly complex and wildly overwrought but it was much better than the previous odious effort.
Did we really need to see Orlando Bloom’s mouth on Ms Knightly’s inner thigh? NO.
Saturday meant Caversham Princess’s birthday party- Everyone looked fabulous in their 1930’s-50’s wear- Updo’s, plunging necklines and bold makeup were the order of the evening. I thought i’d done quite well on the costuming front however I changed out of my cocktail dress, corselette and stockings and into my regulation combats and hoodie after only a couple of hours as I began to play Box.
Box is an ancient game of intestinal fortitude, balance and skill. The basic premise is: A small cardboard box must be picked up off the floor using only the mouth, without anything touching the floor except the soles of the feet. After one round an inch or two of the box is chopped off so that as time passes the box shrinks in stature and picking it up gets progressively more difficult.
Although I came up against some good competition I was crowned Queen of Box or Box Queen if you would like to think of it that way. I have a short torso and am relatively flexible so getting down, balancing and then sucking up a piece of cardboard that is completely flat on the floor is almost a certainty.
Being Queen of Box basically means that I get to show off how flexible I am and how good I am at sucking and licking. This is why i’ve such a history of romantic satisfaction.
Speaking of which, my back hurts…
Thank FUCK it’s the end of the week… Piracy rampage Friday then a week off of marking, hibernating and looking for employment that does not exist- woo!
Friday awesomeness just in time for the partay on Saturday…
Songs For Swingin’ Lovers
See the gallery for more…
My flowers have wilted away but confoundedly I am well up on the massage front. A somewhat bizarre invitation for “a few beers” courtesy of MW#1 turned into an evening happily spent spilling pizza down myself, knocking beverage containers over and generally being a bit of a spazz. I have known him for years but I still get a bit nervous when I go to see him. Duh.
Three glasses of wine, one showing of Tombstone and two episodes of The Sopranos later I am stretched out over MW#1’s knee enjoying what would eventually add up to be in the realm of three hours of back massage.
Oh… Such pleasure! Admittedly I am now sporting a smattering of bruises where he was a little too hard on me but these only add to my post-massage feelings of well-being (as I am warped). I think I have some under my tattoo. I’ve craved a massage for years; MW#1 did a very good job, although I think I would prefer some lube next time so I don’t have to suffer through friction burns. And no that is not a euphemism.
Unfortunately, he still smells far too good to me and I find him of huge tactile appeal… my night of massage has reminded me how I want to say and do all sorts of things but am unable to do so due to my just-a-friend status and the morality of the situation.
I loved every minute of the massage (even the friction burns) and i’d love to be indulged more but dammit.
I bought myself flowers. I’m considering buying myself a massage- the cheapest local non-sex work sort I can find. I just need to make it to the end of this week. Then make it through the following week. Then I have a week off.
I need to get my car fixed. I need to tidy my room. I need to work out what I am going to do with my classes for the remainder of the term. I need to mark lots of books. I need to find a job. I need to save for unemployment. I need a good stroking so my random back spasms calm down.
Some of these things are beyond my control. Some of these things require money I do not have. Quite a few of these things however require will power. We shall see how much actually gets done… If I get to the end of these two weeks without proving the existence of human combustion.
Paddington Station rainbow
Posters found at Leicester Square tube dating from 1992 (I was gobsmacked)
Lemons in the Madjeski Garden at the V&A
Feel (2001) by Anthony Gormley as installed in the Wellcome Institute
Lahndahn tahn with my Mum. Charcuterie and moules mariniere. Victoria and Albert museum. Surreal Things. Discussion of MW#1 whilst trying to remain suitably buttoned-up. Managed to keep ttear-free. My Mum calling my Dad a bastard. Hee.
Telegraph: Art from a different angle
It’s undoubtedly because i’m tired and slighly glum but for the last day or so I’ve been feeling a strange need to clutch someone to my bosom; my bosom is limited in scope but can provide a small amount of cushioning for a weary head.
When I was alone on the sofa this evening, sitting in the dark watching Kyra Sedgewick’s cerise lipstick, I felt like I needed someone’s head to be resting on my chest and my arms to be holding their phantom body. Stroke their non-existent hair. Feel warmth that doesn’t come from my hot water bottle.
I watched afternoon films, I vegetated, I got awfully excited over hot dirty Jason Statham as The Transporter (eeeeee) and I marvelled at Ms. Sedgewick’s expressive, rubber-band mouth. Although I may feel bereft of someone to hold today was quite a good day.
Fashion gets close to art: Christian Dior Couture Spring Summer 2007
I saw this a while back but it has stayed in my memory- Giant chairs, insane heels, assistants clad in black to help the women up and down the stairs… I can stare at the seemingly endless parade of fantastically attired models for ages; the outfits are so brilliantly constructed and plain bizarre.
YouTube: The show Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
How to make a chocolate bar of Han Solo encased in carbonite
NSFW Chas Ray Krider
Arse-numbingly long post. Usual content. Feel free to skip.
So this last long weekend I went out not once but thrice- It was a shocker. I spent an extremely enjoyable evening eating and drinking my way to an early oblivion with Bobby Convey; I have found a new pleasure in being able to take my friends out to dinner, even though i’m unemployed come July. Sensible.
We spent time psychoanalysing each other; this Doktor of Pop Psychiatry was apparently rather hard to pin down but when it came down to it all my pushing of boundaries in interests, clothing etc belies a need for stability. I think Doktor Convey got it spot on.
I don’t think I behave in a way that pushes people away so that I can “prove” that they truly care for me if they’re interested, I think I just have non- mainstream interests. Sometimes I feel isolated by these interests but I wouldn’t change my wonkily smart brain for anything.
On the subject of changing things, we had a discussion about that old chestnut “It is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.” I called bullshit on the phrase as I am an embittered old lag but upon talking about it with Doktor Convey I realised that it is true. For all the pain i’ve been made to go through I would say that I would probably go through it again. I wish I didn’t have to go through it but once I start caring it’s like I might as well give up, because the ache is going to happen anyway.
It’s when they make you laugh so much that drink squirts out your nose. It’s when they gently rest a warming hand at the base of your spine. When they pull you close whilst slumbering. Fingers picking imaginary bugs out of your hair. That grin that you can’t help, the one that’s so wide that it almost hurts.
A mere hour after waking I was off dahn tahn again to meet up with Nitram and associated associates to partake in the local Beer Festival. Spent two hours queuing and drank the grand total of about a pint and a quarter of pear, wheat and apple-based beverages (not all together). The piece de resistance was the purchasing of a glass of rose petal wine- because it’s mere existence was bizarre- this was a bad decision, and before it was poured onto the grass I managed to force down around four sips. It was unpleasant. Something more pleasant was the pie I ate. Yum.
After a break to change and eat junk food I returned to tahn to continue with the alcohol consuming. I rendezvous-ed at the agreed co-ordinates but alas, Nitram and other associated drunks did not manage to make it all the way to where I was waiting and had stopped off at a nearby drinking establishment.
I decided to sit and finish my bottle of cider before moving on. I sat for an hour and a half and managed to sip my way through half the bottle. This is a record in drink preservation even for me. I sat, I people watched, I enjoyed feeling glum, I wavered between tears and happiness and I watched my fellow patrons watch a familiar girl with black-rimmed eyes and a long black ribbon that slid over one of her pale shoulders sit alone in a seat by the wall.
On the bank holiday I met up with an Aunt who is a professor of Latin literature, medieval studies and comparative literature. Awesomeness. We bitched about Hillary Clinton, neo-con nutjobs ruling America and a woman’s right to choose- she is a Scot by birth but has dual nationality. We talked about parenting and I mentioned how I had issues with my Dad and his anger. She said that “whenever your Dad talks about you it is obvious that he adores you.” I was fairly dumbfounded by this. Of course, my Dad is the human being of whom everyone says “he’s a gent” “he’s so mellow” who then belittles me and is furious when spilling tiny spots of coffee on the carpet and who has apologised to me once in twenty-six years of existence.
As an update to the work situation- Well, let’s just say I am prioritizing… i.e. work that is not vital is not being done today. This entry has taken me four days to put together and clearly blogging is faar more important than professionalism. Must keep on top of things. Oh and have got web cam working. That I have no-one to talk at on. Priorities.
An evening dahn tahn visiting horrific young professional places beckons; I am not particularly looking forward to it but I figure I’ll wear something nice that no-one will get to see. Yay.
Shockingly, I have for once a fair few things to write about with regards to the course of my usually uneventful life. Don’t get too excited like, it’s just going out with my usual beloved cronies. Alas, I am tired and have spent the last few days trying to do damage control relating to work deadlines and will be spending the next few doing similarly so I do not have the time to update you as to what unexciting things i’ve been up to.
Anyway, I recently purchased a black corselette which I bought in the hope that I would suddenly be gifted with a nipped-in waist and smooth curves on the relative cheap as opposed to shelling out for a corset. I got the smoothness but as per usual not the waist. Sigh. Good things about it are that it makes me all smooth, it’s black and interestingly patterned and it has metal suspender clips attached to the bottom so it (and I) will look fetching when hooked up to a pair of stockings.
I’ll be wearing it for a private show at some point over the weekend. When I say private I mean for an audience of nought.
So, to provide you with some real eye candy, here’s the lovely Miss Bernie Dexter
Java’s Bachelor Pad: Monthly Bernie Dexter Pinups
Today Dwayne Johnson is thirty-five. This the the excuse to post some gratuitous Rock. I haven’t had me some Rock for a lonng time; I think he’s looking a bit sad these days. Sigh.
Dwayne Johnson Fever
The Pin Up Files
New imaginary punter lapdance track: Snoop Dogg – From tha Chuuuch to da Palace
(Lo-rider awesomeness on display in the video at three minutes)
Even though I am definitely not having a thin day I be grindin’ hard in front of the mirror… Snoo… Ooop!
I remember when me and M used to pretend we were the girls sitting on the back seat of the lo-riders from Still D.R.E. and sort of bounce ourselves up and down. In the middle of the classroom. Standing up. Golden days for sure…
Pay day means I am itching for all sorts of pointless underwear purchases. Woo. When purchasing a new printer the retiree at the till appreciated my intelligent questioning about ink capacities and told me to leave the big box at the till whilst I meandered to get extra cartridges.
Me: Thanks… You wouldn’t want to make me work now would you?
Retiree: You’ve already got a lovely figure- We wouldn’t want you to waste away to nothing now would we?
Then some freeeaaaak started beeping at me in my dirtmobile before blowing several kisses at me when I turned to look. It must be the weather. And the big sunglasses that cover my face.