One sweet and sour pork, two fried rice and SILENCE!!!

31 05 2008

I think the presence of tinnitus is following me around after I wrote this.

I was sitting in Chinatown having a meal with Jackson and a rather flamboyant Spaniard when a fellow diner (I’m guessing any age between 30 and 70) wearing track pants and a grey wife-beater, sporting a buzz cut and boobs swinging freely at her waistband approached us, shouting and flailing her arms wildly, as she did – “SILENCE, I’ve got to have SILENCE. I’ve got TINNITUS! TINNITUS”. A strangled mewl proceeded “WaaaaaWAAAAAAAA”. Being as polite as we could, with minimal eye rolling, we got up and switched tables.

I’m lamenting not having ITV2 right now, I thought I’d be sated with the finale of Britain’s Got Tat/Talent, but I see that there is an American version doing the rounds too. I would love, love, love to see this especially with Sharon Osbourne and David Hasselhoff sitting side by side. Their comments, I’m sure, would be priceless. Weirdest of all, having sat open-mouthed through much of the petit mal of recent talent shows, is my absolute surprise at developing a crush on Cowell. I know loads of girls always go on about him when they audition but I was never really buying that whole Cowell = sex vibe. But something certainly switched a light on earlier this week – apparently he loves animals, and well, I love a man who loves animals. Gets me every time.

About Hasselhoff though, no crush there but I was laughing away earlier as I remembered a defining moment of my teenage years, an epiphany of sorts at how easy it is for growing boys to turn puce with embarrassment. I was on a school exchange to Germany, our German class with the local boys German class. It was disastrous; we were allowed a party at which we were told (by the German teacher) “you can drink wine and beer, but no alcohol”, it was like the Hallelujah chorus to our light-weight ears. However, the best part of it was my best friend and me becoming buddies with one of the boys on the trip with us. He was tall and butch, he had a biker look about him, his hair was long and messed up, he wore a leather jacket – Dan was our friend. One afternoon we went into the local record store, I don’t know why, German music didn’t produce much in the 1990s. Our friend took great delight in scouring the posters for sale for AC-DC, Motorhead, Metallica, White Snake and the like. He picked one out – some rough and ready metal group, flames blazing, biceps tattooed, leather waistcoats, long hair and off he went to pay. The whole class met up outside with Dan to see the big unveiling. The plastic sheath was slide off seductively, the poster was pulled out bit by bit, it was slowly unravelled to show us all – a topless David Hasslehoff sitting astride a Harley. Oh, how we laughed and laughed! Weirdly enough, about 4 years later Dan turned up at my friend’s house, totally unexpected considering we hadn’t kept it touch, with a large picture of her face that he’d done for his Art project. Creep.

Jackson and I are totally miffed at missing the Zombie Walk at Alexanderplatz in Berlin that took place today. Next year we’ll be there, maybe I’ll be wearing the Nosferatu t-shirt I found in the back of my closet just now. What a treasure!


Small edits

27 05 2008

I needed to tweak a few things on this site because I realized there was little coherency. I’ve changed the blog header to an ace picture taken by a very good friend of mine over in Belfast, I think it’s something most people can relate to, eh? I liked my pictures of Coney Island because it’s one of my favourite places that I’ve had the fortune to visit, and not too soon before Astroland is all changed and paved over – so get there while you still can! I’ve kept the wee Hamburger/Cotton Candy man as my avatar as he’s really cute and I love Americana, faded seaside glamour kitch. Being in the Coney Island Mermaid Parade would be an absolute dream! Wrap me in sequined scales and carry me on the shoulders of oiled sailor boyzz! 

I wanted the Brandenburg Gate up there, in keeping with the German theme and the mishmashed German words I’ve been making up, but it didn’t fit the rather stingy banner size  – you can see it on my ‘About Me’ page though. That also doesn’t have much on it but it will soon. I’ve put the Brandenburg Gate up because one day this blog will take me to Berlin, and it’s effectively a big door inviting me in, so ships ahoy!! I’ll be writing soon enough explaining all about the choice of Torschlusspanik as a title and also a translation of the aforementioned mishmashed words that I made up. 

I’m also needing a few linkzzzz on the page to brighten it up, it’s looking a bit bare. Any offers? NOT YOU Mike Schmarmon-harmon, YOU are a BIG SPAMMER. Do not be taken in by his kind words, he is NOT REAL. Same as Amanda Holden is not real, her prescriptive reaction to children on Britain’s Got Talent instantly brings on robotic tears. Fey! 

Ha ha Thisaway, Ha ha Thataway – my oh my!! *

27 05 2008

I was looking for some excitement to jump start the torpor of my surroundings and this week I have every night, Britain’s Got Talent. I’m still undecided about what I think of this programme, particularly when it comes to children being involved. Jackson and I were talking about it the other night and there seems to be two lines of thought on it –  1) let them get on with it; they’re resilient and they’ll bounce back, 2) don’t let them on because their dreams might be crushed and they’ll never get over it and suffer agoraphobia from large crowds for ever more. Part of me thinks that children have years ahead of them to have their lucky break, compared to the dozens of other entertainers who are just waiting for their day to come around. I’m also a bit biased because I can’t bear those lispy, dribbly performances. I do wonder if the scars of failure run deep though and if confidence problems will spring up to haunt them just as they’re about to sit their A levels or say their wedding vows  – nausea will rise up and up and the sound of three HONKS will be an ever lasting tinnitus-like presence. 


The other problem I see in BGT is the long standing question of ‘does Prince Charles really want to see this?’. I know that sounds elitist though, and that the Royal Variety show is for everyone, but I’d happily replace my name with that of royalty – do I really want to see this?? Piers goes on about how the show is exactly about the risible, embarrassing and hapless case who turns up with an unpolished act. Well yes, Britain does have that sort of talent, and in one sense that runs as an undercurrent to a lot of our cultural output, but we have it in spade loads up and down the country. The Royal Family does not want to watch someone resembling a Christmas cracker singing in drag, they can get that down the Working Mens’ Club on a Saturday night. Seeing someone squeezed into a body length pair of pantyhose and a triangular wig resembling Wizbit is not representative of anything unique about Britain. There’s raw talent and there’s polished talent and then there’s pure tat. Even the large dance acts, although I can see why they’re popular (music! lights! movement! recognisable song we can all sing along to), are so samey. Doing the Hustle is not just old in terms of being 30 years old, but to revisit it, ‘ironically’ or not, is a bit old hat. 


Wizbit – also an Old Hat

Now my favourite acts did get through on tonight’s semi final: we were so rooting for wee Gin tonight. That is an act which has not been seen here before and shows how, from just a small corner of the country something new, entertaining, charming, touching and fun can arise. The singer who lost out, I think he has a great voice, but he’ll be snapped up by the West End in no time at all, and really, he should have jumped off the stage again, because as I said once before, the audience love a bit of movement. Every year there’ll be a breakthrough singing talent that lights up pound signs in Cowell’s eyes, so yes, I think the wee dog should win because it’s something we haven’t seen before. Signature also represent great talent that’s been practised over and over, and is polished and slick. And, it is modern and it is progressive; it’s taken two elements of well known and popular culture but brought them forward with a new vision to 2008, giving us something which Britain should be proud of to showcase and which we’d enjoy watching (something off track here, but some of the comments about the duo on Youtube, questioning their “Britishness”, are immature, unnecessary and idiotic).  


I’m no actor/singer/dancer myself but I’ve done my penance in some musical theatre. I was told I was always ‘smiling’, like an idiot I’m sure, even if I didn’t have the best voice on stage. But the nerves from going on stage, the sickening feeling of the curtain about to rise, pales into comparison to the nausea I feel every time I see an Iceland frozen BBQ advert. There is something criminally wrong with a 25 piece FROZEN BBQ set that only costs 5 pounds. BOIK!


* that’s the Wizbit theme tune for anyone born after 1986



Young, uniformed minds

24 05 2008

I’ve overcome my Herr Flick-like gait enough to go to Pilates today. There were a few side-long glances in the room though, and not at me and my amazing contortionist abilities – there was a boy in the class. I know most of the class were trying to be subtle with their covert gazes but I could pick up on it pretty quickly. I heard the interloper being suave-ish with the older ladies beforehand, swapping best hamstring stretch tips, and talking about which jasmine green tea is best pre-10k race. Then he flashed his shiny white teeth at us all. It reminded me of being at school, yup an all girls’ school, and the boys from the school down the road would run onto the lawn during lunch time and try to out-wit the staff who chased them earnestly across the lawn. Suddenly a veritable gaggle of untouched gals would hang out of the windows, appear from behind the bike sheds, down CDT tools and floppy discs (we were modern and progressive) and try their best to catch a glimpse of disappearing hide. It kind of reminds me of The Divine Comedy’s ‘Songs of Love’, there’s some truth in those lyrics.

So what’s my point? I’m an expert in detecting the hidden gaze of girls upon the lone guy in pilates or yoga?Well I wasn’t looking because 1) I saw his poo shoes at the side of the room, 2) I was over that around about 1999, 3) I prefer to scowl during pilates. I can’t pretend I’m particularly talented at pilates, nor particularly limber, but I do have my own style, and I like to be left in peace to do it. I don’t want any giggling girls nearby, the ones who come in holding hands with their BFF, and then make a big show and dance because they can’t put their mats together, or they don’t want to be right at the front, worried someone will see their ridiculous and frankly unpractical thong sticking out of their trackies. I don’t want no poo-shoed man near by either, I enjoy scowling in class. It’s because I never really understand what’s going on, and last time I attempted yoga all I heard was ‘sssshchcwas – fgghehe scshhh’ from the instructor so I just try and do my own thing, scowling as I go. 


I waved a sad goodbye to Donald last night, bidding farewell to the first season of Dirty, Sexy, Money. What will I do now that both Donald and Keifer are off my screen? Bring out an old copy of Young Guns? I think I’ll have to go back to Season 1 of 24 because Jackson hasn’t seen it at all and I need some adrenalin injected to the torpor of my surroundings. I’ve got the impression that Tripp Darling is like a magnetic planet, his children small orbs trapped in his gravitational field. He can’t let them go, and they can’t shake him either. I watched him try so hard throughout to get the most that is possible from all his children, but who’s had to struggle uphill the hardest? I’d have to say it’s Brian. I think I’ve been his fan since the beginning and his life’s certainly turned around the most, and he’s had more of an epiphany than the rest of the brood. The show’s supposed to be about Nick finding out who killed his Dad, but with characters like Brian and Karen, that line is just background noise to me. What did disappoint me though, but which was not in the slightest bit surprising for a woman like her, was that insipid wife of Nick deciding to have a baby. It just proves that she’s not unlike any other wispy, boring woman – when things go wrong (she was fired) the answer to it OF COURSE is to have another child. Just what you need to take your mind off things, the baby will solve it all. Maybe also Nick will be so tired from nappy changing all night that he’ll momentarily forget how boring and tiresome she is. I guess they needed the fired storyline to inject a bit of vim into her character. Bit of a twist with Karen though, eh? I knew she was kind of spunky deep down but not sly enough to do what she did with Simon Elder!!! Wily, slyboots Karen! 


I have a heap of things to write about Britain’s Having a Petit Mal in the Talent Department, but I might save some of them for later. I did however, whilst trawling through Youtube find that a whole host of videos exist for ‘Scala’ the electronic string act. It seems that one of the violinists, or maybe two, is going out with a member of McFly (they met on tour) and some fans have made Powerpoint style photo shows dedicated to the girls and their beaus, played in SlowMo to songs like ‘Girls just wanna have fun’ and writing symbols like <3. What does ❤ even stand for? “Get outta ma way, ho! You’re not standing in the way of me and my Fly boyzz!” Or maybe it’s actually a pair of boobs squeezed into a tight corset. Anyway, why was I looking this group up? I had a feeling I’d seen them before or read about them before. And I was right! There is a connection, but not one I’d shout about from the rooftops, because that would be lame to jump on someone else’s bandwagon, and well, about 50,000 other people have the same connection. But there was this one time (long time ago)…a party….and next door….and Eurovision….orange juice….raw egg…sore head…fag butt in a stale Chinese. Nope, that’s enough. Hang on, Eurovision is on tonight, and I saw Scala tonight, and that’s, that’s like weird! Tuscon weird! 

Dear Sir/Mammy

22 05 2008

I received an email this morning with the above address; it wasn’t even junk mail, it was to do with a job I used to have.


I don’t know what rumours have been flying but I hope I’ve now been elevated to a Hot MILF.


21 05 2008

I’m in a bit of a spaghetti induced stupor right now, eating too much pasta at lunch makes me sleepy. I should be working but my day has been disrupted right from the point when an abandoned tractor at the top of the carriageway slip road had to be towed off with a police escort. 


So – Brian and Nick sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Or not? Luckily the Dirty, Sexy, Money story wasn’t about the heads of respectable professions getting it on, wasn’t it? Otherwise we’d have a priest, the lawyer, the father and their big love as a story line. I’m disappointed that Nick and Karen aren’t the illicit siblings we’ve been promised for so long, because I’m all for giving Karen more air time and the whimsy wife less, but seeing Brian venomously spitting at his new found brother in arms was quite enjoyable. I did find the other family members were rather flippant about the possibility that it could have been Nick and Karen. Doesn’t matter what the rest of the family are getting up to, but incest isn’t a story line to be crossed apparently. 


Usually I’m out on a sunny day like this to the park for a constitutional, but for some reason or other my right hamstring is weirdly tighter than the other, giving me a Herr Flick-like gait. So I’m off to see ‘What Happens in Vegas’ because someone I know is in it. 


20 05 2008

Channel 4 has always been pushing the frontiers of television here in the UK and I think tonight they went right up to the Susquehanna River.

In the past we’ve had Brookside’s first lesbian kiss, cartoon ‘sex’ pre-watershed, numerous Hollyoak’s story lines, Gordon Ramsay’s redundant presence and then tonight we were given pre-9pm full frontal vagine!!! Plucked, waxed, pimply and in a variety of shapes and sizes. I nearly choked on a chickpea. Oh my dear, dear Gok! Your attempts to educate the nation, truly knows no bounds. Brazilians, Hollywoods, landing strips, 70s, diamante designs, purple and heart shaped are all talked and written about in glossy magazines and probably discussed down the Pig & Fiddle on a Friday night but I think this is the first time that a TV programme has deliberately sought to show the masses (that’s your dad, mum, gran, teachers, and Soft Shoe Frank on the ground floor) EXACTLY what it looks like. It’s one thing glazing over the pain and rigmarole on the pages of Cosmo but this time we got it in 2D, with sound effects (RRRRRRRRRIP), and a ‘best fit’ guide – yup, there’s even one for tubbies. Now we’ve got a point of reference to consult if we ever think we deserve our money back. 


Waxees of the world, unite!