Too hot to work, generally too hawt

2 07 2009

It’s scorching outside and I can’t even be bothered to go out and buy a fan.

In my head the only heaven that exists is the one where I will meet all the dead animals I have ever known.

That moment when your old pet cats run up to you, mewing and purring and frantically rubbing themselves against your legs is something we should all look forward to.

Sometimes I dream about my old cats, and I truthfully wake up crying.  It’s a different kind of sadness when a pet dies; because who knows if our cats and dogs could really understand what impact they had in our human worlds. And they can’t really understand what’s going on when they get sick and poorly.

In my strange irrational thinking about animal heaven, I even fear that when I scoop up my cats in my arms, as we bounce around on those fluffy clouds, I would crush and smother them because I wouldn’t want to let go. But then a friend pointed that in animal heaven all the cats would speak like the ones from ‘i can haz cheeseburger’ – and I think he’s right.

“pleese don’t squeeze me. you iz squeezing the kitteh”

“i alwayz lubs you 2, you scratch my ears and i puuurrr”

something like that.

And then it would just be an eternity of lounging on soft clouds, a menagerie of animals surrounding us, plenty of catnip and cuddlez for all. Sometimes we would all dance along in a long line, holding hand to paw, to the song ‘Aquarius’. Then we would all fall into a field of catnip so the kittehs could roll around and have their bellehs scratched.

Finally we can tell our pets  just what they mean to us and they will say:

‘yes, but belleh is hungrie, and i have an itch behind my earz’

Ok, these aren’t kittehs  but they are the doggehs I lubs very much.

not quite a cat

not quite a cat

I lubs you, i lubs you, i lubs you!!!!!!!


What? What…??

16 06 2009

it's a date

Who’s your Daddy?

10 06 2009

I have a new celebrity crush: after watching this video on Bamboo Nation, I followed up the Youtube channel and now I have a crush on Vadim Newquist. Watching ‘Cherries’ disturbed me ever so slightly, partly because I am jealous as I’m not a short film maker. I am, however, a connoisseur of Aperol Sours.

I’m going to start pulling all my New York, short-film, performance art connections to get an introduction; that might take some time. But his myspace does list ‘London 1978’ as an interest – I AM London 1978; and he also rocks Prince ‘Purple Rain’ – I also love ‘Purple Rain’!

But that’s enough gushing, there are some cute gay men in my area for me to stalk today. I know we can never be together, but I like to imagine myself as the tragic heroine; unloved, unwanted, discarded with a mascara drizzled face. Broken high-heeled shoes, burned, abused, ripped stockings, split nails, sicked up Aperol Sours, face all pale. Liebst Du Travestie?

Traversing Travestie

More comments please

2 06 2009

Come on people, where are the comments? Must I pimp myself out for quick comment screw just to make myself look good? I think I need to start a ‘contact me’ page as well, just to see what messages I receive that way. Maybe you’re all just shy.


So to boost the hit ratings:















you make my London Bridge go down.


But many thanks to my last commenter, who is clearly impressed by my dedications to Hot Bill Kaulitz.

My kicks are now below the waistline

1 06 2009

I’ve lived in Germany a good few months now, and yet I’ve only just discovered my latest German celebrity crush! This is more evidence that I am slowly turning German.


It’s Bill Kaulitz from Tokio Hotel, everyone!


Oh Bill, you make my London Bridge go down, down, down

Oh Bill, you make my London Bridge go down, down, down


It’s the anime features, the androgyny, the knowledge  he is probably way too young for me (but not that young). That PERFECT NOSE.


I’m loving the way the fans have made all sorts of Bill youtube dedications; montaging his gorgeous picture against a whole host of ill-matched songs. Yes, that’s ‘Lady Marmelade’, ‘London Brigdge’, ‘Sexy Back’ (yes!) and strangely ‘La Booooooomba’. OMG, I just saw video footage of the Kaulitz twins cuddling lion cubs – TOO CUTE TOO CUTE TOO CUTE TOO CUTE.

I get my kicks above the waistline

24 05 2009

You know, 5 euros might not be a great deal of money but if I’m paying 5 euros for a Drag Queen show, I want a bit more for my bucks. All I can really say is that last Friday Jackson, C and I had the most bizarre and surreal evening, to rival many that I’ve had in the past (Wurzburg summer 2001, anyone?). Watching a Drag Queen attempting (badly) to pose on one leg on top of an old orange box, at the end of every badly lip-synched song, just made me think of a senile grandmother – the lips drawn back from the teeth in a forced grin, the wavering leg and the bleeding lipstick edges really turned my insides, aided by the bad Sekt I was drinking.  The three of us thought we would never escape, and it did take more than 4 hours after our arrival for us to manage to get out – alive. It just wasn’t Ru Paul’s Drag Race, there was no bass in the walk. There weren’t even any Barbara Streisand or Annie Lennox covers.

I’m not sure if anyone but the three of us who went together will truly understand what we experienced/suffered. I actually suspect there might have been dubious ‘group activities’ occurring once everyone had consumed enough of the liquor chocolates that were passed around. At one point I asked C if I was missing the trick, the punchline or the green fairy that might appear on my shoulder.  I’ve never craved an out of body experience so much; my curiosity to find out what the senses of the ‘performers’ where receiving, compared to what befell my eyes was extremely high. Will anyone else ever understand the ‘Aldi Champagne Truffle’ advice I was given by an extremely shouty lady? Will anyone ever share my pain after being slapped, hard, on my backside by same lady as we finally escaped the….the…..menagerie?

Avoidance Tactics

21 05 2009

If I’m writing about ‘avoidance’ then I really should write about avoiding work; but instead I’m writing briefly about avoiding loons on the streets.

Yesterday I was walking to the Hauptstrasse nearby, and was consciously aware that a woman was following me. Not really that unsettling in itself, but when I paused outside a home wares shop and touched a blue bowl, when I moved off I noticed her touching the blue bowl too! Is that not just a little too close for comfort??

I woke nice and early today, at 6.22am, probably because last night I did NOT watch Ru Paul’s Drag Race. That means there were no hallucinogenic colours or ear-tumour inducing sounds to disturb the delicate balance that regulates my bio-rhythms. I’ve recently got hooked on Ru Paul’s Drag Race, which a friend of mine has been showing me. Four of us sit down to watch as many episodes in a row that our cerebrums can manage, joined as well by a crazed playboy cat (who totally wears a “freak em’ dress“). 


I cannot tear myself away from the bright lights (no doubt inducing temporary episodes of blindness), the creepy HA HA HA HAAAAA laugh after the adverts (no doubt inducing permanent night terrors) and the general mesmerising, confounding experience of seeing two drag queens spinning around lip-syncing ‘for their lives’, which could be a new practise for me – given that I really can’t sing. I’d be happy to share MAC foundations tips and false nail advice with my new girlfriends. Limelight sharing might have to be fought for though; I’ve seen how fierce the competition gets so I’ll have to start practising my Mika songs, and simultaneously wagging my finger and shaking my booty at the camera.

In return for my friend sharing Ru Paul with me, I think I’m going to make us a ‘Wellness Competition Chart’. There’s a small group of us living in our Kiez and we keep talking about our embarrassingly low levels of ‘wellness’. I think I will divide the chart up into ‘physical wellness’ and ‘psychological wellness’.

Points for Physical Wellness will include:
Going to bed before 3am
Getting up before 10am
Eating Vollkorn bread
Exercise – cycling, dog walking, shaving (why not?), walking (at least as far to the U-bahn stop), lifting the remote control

Points for Psychological Wellness will include:
Walking past any church (that really will suffice)
Avoiding local lunatics
Watching the scene where that automaton girl from The OC dies, and NOT crying at it

Points will be deducted for:
Late night snacking, thus avoiding a ‘Pommes Headache
Leaving clubs at 5am and heading straight to the 24hour bakery
Purposefully talking to the local lunatics
Every hour of dementia inducing television watched

Singing the ‘knutschflecke’ song on Singstar

Any evidence of bin hoking

Bonus points:
Risk taking – drinking in the local bar favoured by prostitutes/asylum residents, entering any of the tacky sex shops on our local strip
Taking surreptitious night-time bin hoking photos
Reaching out to stroke the obese pitbull dogs living on our street


In other news I can’t wait for my hot date with my new Drag Queen girlfriend (seriously, that part’s real, I do live in Berlin)