Monthly Archives: October 2010


Caaaaaaaan! Today I spent several hours watching Hawaii Five-0.

Scott Caan might be shorter than me but goshdarn it he’s awful cute, in a burly furball sort of way. Which is so terribly appealing…


He appears to be able to take a decent photo too and started out on a Nikon. Perfect-o.

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Hawaii Five-0

5-0It’s wrong but I am *loving* the remake of Hawaii Five-0.

I am loving the beach shots, beautiful scenery, bright colours and fast cars and the two leads (Hello Double Delicious); I am also enjoying the diverse cast but i’m sure that’s the the old exoticism card welling up in me from somewhere.

Grace Park is still as awesome as ever and it is pleasing that they get Alex O’Loughlin to get his top off about as much as she dons a bikini. Diversity and equality? Tasty TV viewing.

And I find myself actually laughing at the lines, but that could be because Scott Caan is saying them. Heh.

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Mindhacks – Erotic asphyxia and the limits of the brain
“A guy who enjoyed whacking off while trying to strangle himself has provided important evidence that an outward sign considered to indicate severe irreversible brain damage can be present without any lasting effects.”
led me to

Abnormal Posturing
“Abnormal posturing is an involuntary flexion or extension of the arms and legs, indicating severe brain injury.”
led me to

Fencing Response
“The fencing response is an unnatural position of the arms following a concussion. Immediately after moderate forces have been applied to the brainstem, the forearms are held flexed or extended (typically into the air) for a period lasting up to several seconds after the impact.”

YouTube: Fencing Response
led me to Little Albert Experiment
“John B. Watson, after observing children in the field, was interested in finding support for his notion that the reaction of children, whenever they heard loud noises, was prompted by fear. Furthermore, he reasoned that this fear was innate or due to an unconditioned response. He felt that following the principles of classical conditioning, he could condition a child to fear another distinctive stimulus which normally would not be feared by a child…”

“..The experiment showed that Little Albert seemed to generalise his response to furry objects so that when Watson sent a non-white rabbit into the room seventeen days after the original experiment, Albert also became distressed. He showed similar reactions when presented with a furry dog, a seal-skin coat, and even when Watson appeared in front of him wearing a Santa Claus mask with white cotton balls as his beard, although Albert did not fear everything with hair”
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Confronting Life

A man decides that the best defence is offense and quite rightly gives a bollocking to two anti-choice protesters picketing the clinic where his wife was having an abortion; I am *SO THANKFUL* that we don’t have people protesting like this in the UK. It shouldn’t matter why you are choosing to terminate a pregnancy – the rights of a ball of cells/embryo/foetus do NOT come before those of my fully cognisant self – but the two women’s reaction shows how little they think through their thoughts and actions.

The Good Men project – Confronting Life

“Aaron Gouveia and his wife were already having the worst day of their lives. Then came the abortion protesters.”
“‘You’re killing your unborn baby!’

That’s what they yelled at me and my wife on the worst day of our lives. As we entered the women’s health center on an otherwise perfect summer morning in Brookline, two women we had never met decided to pile onto the nightmare we had been living for three weeks. These “Christians” verbally accosted us—judged us—as we steeled ourselves for the horror of making the unimaginable, but necessary, decision to end our pregnancy at 16 weeks.

After extensive testing at a renowned Boston hospital three weeks earlier, we were told our baby had Sirenomelia. Otherwise known as Mermaid Syndrome, it’s a rare (one in every 100,000 pregnancies) congenital deformity in which the legs are fused together. Worse than that, our baby had no bladder or kidneys. Our doctors told us there was zero chance for survival.”
Jezebel – Husband Stands Up To Anti-Choice Protesters
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Licence To Kill

Licence To Kill

On the subject of Gladys Knight, I fucking LOVE this Bond theme she did.

Back in ’89 I remember queuing at the local multiplex and seeing this come on a nearby TV screen as me, my brother and Dad bought tickets and popcorn. At the time I remember being struck by how much of a badass Knight looks in her tuxedo suit, how she was strong and didn’t look like you’d want to mess with her; the CGI irises were well flash to my eight year-old brain. I didn’t see the film on the big screen as I was too young at the time.

Watching the video now I am amazed at the terrible late Eighties models writhing around in the background and how very cheesy it all looks, but still Knight looks and sounds *awesome*. Oh look, a very young Benicio Del Toro. Heh. I’d forgotten about him. Licence To Kill is still a Bond I remember fondly- the stunts in it are brilliant – Rémy Julienne ahoy – and I have a soft spot for Dalton in the role- It wasn’t his fault!

Licence To Kill title sequence

The last time I did karaoke I sang View To A Kill- I think if i’m ever let loose again near a mic i’d love to monotone my way through this baby. Woo.
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Mystery Track

Mystery track as heard on Jones & X.Ray…

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
I’ve been unable to find it by Googling the lyrics (in a variety of combinations) and for the life of me I can’t put my finger on the vocalist. She’s familiar, and i’m sure she’s been sampled, but I can’t seem to remember who it is. Suggestions very welcome. Like Gladys Knight and Marlena Shaw with grit? ANNOYING.
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A week away from my child-related personal responsibilities. HOORAY.

Lunch with Nitram tomorrow in Lahndahn tahn – why is it that holidays always seem to be at the end of the month so spending has to be minimal – who I have not seen in a very long time. Should be good.

The rest of the week I am going to break up the lie-ins with the usual unexotic tasks of living – washing, cleaning, Nintendo. Saving money by doing not terribly much. At the end of the week I am going away for the weekend to East Angular for Bobby Convey’s (second) Thirtieth Birthday; a weekend of friends, food and booze in a cottage with a treehouse. Bit of a drive but should be good – I do hope the weather isn’t too bad. Then it’s back to the grind ’til Christmas… SIGH

Teenage Dream

Teenage Dream

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Into A Dry Martini

It’s a huge fail that i’ve not come across this brilliant line until today:
“Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini?”
NYT – Into A Dry Martini
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Puttin’ On The Ritz

Puttin’ On The Ritz
from Blue Skies (1946)

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Bah Humbuggery

This online dating malarky- There is such a gulf between who you hope you’d attract and who you actually attract. It’s that word of doom again – hope. I have good conversations with people but it’s rare that I find anyone terribly appealing. I know that I shouldn’t rush to judge by people’s appearance but I dunno, I think I scrub up well and so part of me aims a little higher? Too high it seems… UGH
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Greedy Bastards

Guardian – Spending review: government expects 490,000 public sector job cuts

Excellent comment:
“So begins the individual, human, stories of the effects of these vicious and excessive cuts. The propaganda war is well and truly underway. The usual right-wing rags would have us believe that a bloated welfare state caused the enormous, and costly, deficit. This is not true.”

“Yes, there is need for reform. Yes, there is room for cuts. Yes, it is necessary to reduce the huge interest payments we are making.”

“But, let’s have an honest debate. 500 billion plus went to the banks, they are still paying themselves enormous bonuses, they will be untouched by these cuts.”

“Why should autistic children, elderly library users, trafficked women and the poor pay the bill?”

I fucking loathe Osborne and his ilk – seeing his arrogant, sneering face reminds me what this about. Not fiscal responsibility, or ‘sharing the pain’, it’s about dismantling the welfare state and punishing the weakest whilst protecting the wealthy elite.

“Remember, this is the same man, heir to a fortune of approximately £4m, who has set up a trust to avoid paying any inheritance tax.”

“All in this together? Sharing the pain?”

“Fuck off you greedy bastard.”
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Dream Wedding

This morning in a corner of my sleeping brain I found myself on the terrace of a grand hotel where it was, apparently, the day before my wedding. I was feeling confused and upset it seemed because amongst the cream teas I had just been told off by my sister (actually Caversham Princesses’) because I had upset my Mum (actually someone i’d never seen before) by writing the wrong thing in a pre-nuptial Thank You card.

My Other Mother stormed off furious and my Fake Sister harangued me for my lack of understanding. I began to cry and ran through the trellises and into the main building. Then I was walking along corridors trying to find something. I found a room of teenage girls playing dress up and makeover who all recognised me as I coldly muttered “Out” at them as I stood in the doorway. They asked if I was okay and whether perhaps I’d got the wrong room? This rang a bell and so off I wandered.

The corridors were decorated in shades of grey and every so often there was a more open area with white walls. Then I was walking into a suite towards the sound of someone’s voice and I felt relief wash over me. There he was (apparently), My Man and husband-to-be, sprawled in a black leather chair as he made a phone call.

Man was dressed in dark grey shorts, a grey ribbed t-shirt and a navy dressing gown and for some reason a slouchy beanie. Which was dark grey. He had blue-grey eyes, a strong jawline, stubble and strong shoulders but not such a broad chest; his skin was tan in a weather beaten sort-of-way and the hair on his good forearms was a mix of salt-and-pepper. He looked up at me as I came in and gave me a wave as he twisted back and forth on the chair; he smiled and gestured as he talked. He sounded North American of some flavour.

I crawled under the curly phone cord and into his lap where I curled up and played with a fraying edge of his gown as I waited for him to get off the phone. I put my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat and the sound of his speech moving through his body; in between gestures he ran his fingers through my hair and I felt myself relax a little.

I was not crying and had entered into the “grump” stage of upset. He put the phone down.

“Hey Sweetheart, what’s up?” I twisted around in his lap to look at him and he planted a kiss on the end of my nose. He smelled manly man.
“Oh, Mum is upset cos of this fucking card I wrote and I don’t know what to do!” We continued to gently swivel left and right. “And _________ had a go at me for being ‘so fucking inconsiderate’… Arrrgh!” I balled my fists up and bounced them up and down in anger.
“Listen, you are getting married tomorrow. They can’t be pissed at you for long, can they?”
“No… I guess not…” I sighed. I still felt rather small and upset about everything.
“Right-” he moved to get up and I had to extricate myself – “I think you could do with some skin time. Come on…” He grinned as he took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom. Lots of white linen ahoy. It is a hotel after all.

He slid his beanie off to reveal close-cropped black hair that had a little grey in it here and there; he stripped off and slid under the sheets, holding them open when I had finished undressing. We squished together and as we held each other I noticed how pale my skin was in comparison to his. He stroked my hair and we lay silently for a while; I felt calmer and rather warm and fuzzy and was on the verge of drifting off when he rolled me a little closer and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“Feeling better now worrier?”
“Yesh…” I slurred.
“Good…. You know you don’t need to worry so much.”
“I know…”
“I’m your backup. Radio for help at any time.”
“I know… I know you’re here for me, but I can’t help but worry about stuff. It’s just how I am.” He slid a hand down onto my stomach.
“You worry about things like this supposedly “generous” stomach – I see a stomach that’s perfectly designed to rest my hand on, that feels good, that I love, just like the rest of you” I inwardly squee’d with delight. “Well, maybe not the snot monster you can be…” I poked him in mock anger and he grinned as he flinched.”Tomorrow i’m going to marry you. I want to spend my life with you. You don’t need to worry.”
I felt a burst of happiness flood my chest. He leant in to kiss me

and then I woke up. Hello Patrick.
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In A Broken Dream

In A Broken Dream
Python Lee Jackson (Feat. Rod Stewart)

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This Morning


Flash (cropped) by kandyjaxx [cc]

This is what occurred this morning during registration between me and a child that I was not expecting to appear as I thought she was still excluded. Whilst talking to one of the other girls in my form she had loudly exclaimed “I don’t give a shit!” mid-conversation when sat a mere metre or so away from me…
“Excuse me _____, you don’t use language like that in the classroom.”
“Oh well, you live and learn don’tcha.”
“No _____, you don’t live and learn. You should not be using language like that. It is completely inappropriate.”
“Well I wasn’t talking to *you* was I?”
“Language like that is inappropriate within the classroom, no matter who you’re talking to. You should not be using it.”
“Well *you* shouldn’t be listening to my conversation, should you?”
“You are rather loud _____, and so it is pretty easy to hear.”
“What, are you saying i’m mouthy?”
“No… That is *not* what i’m saying.”
“You saying i’m mouthy, that i’m mean and horrible to people like you been saying?”
“No. That is not what i’m saying. Right, I think you should go over to Student Support. I don’t think you should be here any more.”
I spent forty-five minutes following this up emailing the relevant people and entering everything onto the system. I spent a further fifteen minutes walking around the school grounds to check whether _____ had indeed done as i’d said and gone to Student Support (nope) and then trying to find one of the Assistant Deputies who is “responsible” for this pupil’s continued “education” at this school.

The Deputy said she’d “speak to her” about her behaviour.

I spent the rest of the day alternating between feelings of anger, sadness and upset; the reaction of Senior Management has actually made me feel worse about the incident than the girl herself did.

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New on my list of daily reads: The Frenemy
“10. Ice Cubes: Good christ, you are not putting an ice cube near there. That is so cold! For fuck’s sake, dude, I am not your lukewarm lemonade.”
From 10 Items I’d Rather Not Bring Into The Bedroom Anymore
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rrrripRipped 15

I’ve been thinking about underwear and in particular stockings recently: the feel of them against my skin, the seam running up along the back of my leg, how appealing I felt in them. So naturally I feel a bit sad when I think of the days in the past when I could feel both sexy and appreciated whilst wearing them.

I can’t remember the last time I wore a pair… Probably a year-and-a-half ago or abouts?

I enjoy dressing up as it makes me feel good; there are times however when I find myself questioning what the point of putting on the slap really is. Yeah you can argue empowerment, the thrill, self-expression etcetera, but as something that you put on and then take off and wash off at the end of the evening before crawling into that bed that you share with a soft toy?

Who is the performance for?

When i’m dressed up the men get their male gaze on whilst I get…? Flitting around in an aesthetically pleasing manner, look don’t touch…

Oh yay for fucking thirty…

Wikipedia – Scopophilia
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Aceeed Brass

Voodoo Ray
Williams Fairey Brass Band

Artist project by Jeremy Deller; Deller was interested in marrying up the house/techno music of the eighties with the musicians who were being affected during Thatchers years in power. Great stuff.

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Drunkety Drunk Drunk

Drunkety drunk drunk at 5.50am in honour of Bobby Convey’s Thirtieth.

Pork, lemon and feta meatballs in tomato sauce for comfort food despite the lack of working taste buds thanks to the alcohol – then bed and Patrick.

Le contented drunk drunk drunk sigh.
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