Gratuitous eye candy time.
I don't like football quite like Jonathan likes football, but if there were more like Kevin Phillips, well, there'd be a lot to like...
Tuesday, November 06, 2001
It's under control. I'm only 44% blogaholic. Although by posting this I've probably just gone up another point. And cheers to Molly for the link. Damn, another point!
Monday, November 05, 2001
Y'see there's the Seventh Circle of Hell. And then, just below that, there's Argos, the catalogue shop. Wherein the normal method of shopping (find item you want, take to till and pay, leave) is replaced by: hover expectantly waiting for there to be a catalogue free, search through idiosyncratic index for item, locate it on page, see if it's actually in stock, take item number on bit of paper and queue to pay, then go to another counter and queue for an indefinite period to collect said item.
A process which on Saturday took me thirty whole minutes just to buy a simple beard trimmer (the goatee's staying put, but it's getting out of hand...), which, having finally got it home, is no use whatsoever. Which I would have known if I'd been able to see the sodding thing in the first place instead of looking at a sodding picture in a sodding catalogue!!
'Five different length settings!' it says on the box. Yeah, you have a choice of: 'Forgot-To-Shave-This-Morning' (setting 1), 'Father Time' (settings 2, 3 and 4) and 'God' (setting 5). Reaaally useful. You could use this in Afghanistan and the Taliban wouldn't execute you.
Which means I'll have to face taking it back, next time I have a free four hours to waste.
I fucking hate Argos like, so much.
A process which on Saturday took me thirty whole minutes just to buy a simple beard trimmer (the goatee's staying put, but it's getting out of hand...), which, having finally got it home, is no use whatsoever. Which I would have known if I'd been able to see the sodding thing in the first place instead of looking at a sodding picture in a sodding catalogue!!
'Five different length settings!' it says on the box. Yeah, you have a choice of: 'Forgot-To-Shave-This-Morning' (setting 1), 'Father Time' (settings 2, 3 and 4) and 'God' (setting 5). Reaaally useful. You could use this in Afghanistan and the Taliban wouldn't execute you.
Which means I'll have to face taking it back, next time I have a free four hours to waste.
I fucking hate Argos like, so much.
Monday night. Ho-hum. Well, it's either this or the Channel 5 movie 'Addicted To Love', with Meg Ryan. In which apparently she pairs up with Matthew Broderick, who she doesn't like, they fight, they bicker, but eventually realise they were perfect for each other all along. God, that never happens in a Meg Ryan film...
Something I can relate to, big time. Maybe not right now, but all these thoughts have certainly kicked around my head from time to time - I just never put them into words this well...
Yet another top-notch Sunday night last night, much Vauxhall madness, complete with fireworks (ooh! aah!), and, oops, a reprise of mine and Phil's little performance, this time with added blindfolds (don't ask...) - god, there was practically applause - have we no shame??!
Also managed to fit in a flying visit to the Gaydar party down at The Fridge. Gaydar, for the uninitiated, is I guess what you'd call an 'instant dating' site (or alternatively 'online meat market') massively popular here in London although it doesn't really seem to have caught on as much anywhere else. And having been around for two years now, they decided to celebrate this by holding a one-off club night at Brixton's finest. Which could in theory have been quite entertaining, what with everyone trying to recognise each other only from their online profiles:
'Oh, so that's what you look like from the neck up!'
'Are you completeslapper214? Oh, sorry, must be someone else...'
We'd been lured by the promise of free guest list entry and free drink, so it kinda seemed rude to turn it down, but in the event, it seems most people had. So a very brief visit, just long enough to down the strongest vodka and cranberry known to man (how come they don't make the drinks like that when you're actually paying for them??!), and indulge in some gratuitous podium dancing before returning as hurriedly as possible to Vauxhall.
I guess there's something of a flaw in the logic of holding a great big party for a whole load of people who, er, normally prefer to remain anonymous. Hmmm.
Also managed to fit in a flying visit to the Gaydar party down at The Fridge. Gaydar, for the uninitiated, is I guess what you'd call an 'instant dating' site (or alternatively 'online meat market') massively popular here in London although it doesn't really seem to have caught on as much anywhere else. And having been around for two years now, they decided to celebrate this by holding a one-off club night at Brixton's finest. Which could in theory have been quite entertaining, what with everyone trying to recognise each other only from their online profiles:
'Oh, so that's what you look like from the neck up!'
'Are you completeslapper214? Oh, sorry, must be someone else...'
We'd been lured by the promise of free guest list entry and free drink, so it kinda seemed rude to turn it down, but in the event, it seems most people had. So a very brief visit, just long enough to down the strongest vodka and cranberry known to man (how come they don't make the drinks like that when you're actually paying for them??!), and indulge in some gratuitous podium dancing before returning as hurriedly as possible to Vauxhall.
I guess there's something of a flaw in the logic of holding a great big party for a whole load of people who, er, normally prefer to remain anonymous. Hmmm.
Sunday, November 04, 2001
So now we know. Our flat is, officially, average.
Or at least, so say Enfield council. There was a national census here in the UK a few months ago, requiring every household to fill in a rather tedious form about their employment, dependents, yadayadayada. We duly filled it in, and now it seems we have been selected, for some unknown reason, to represent the 'typical household of twentysomething London professionals'. Ahem. Although, thinking about it, a neurotic woman and two gay men, working hard but permanently overdrawn, and getting through enough Chardonnay per week to flood a small country, probably is fairly representative.
So far though, our new-found status has just meant yet more questions, in the form of a council bloke who came round to interview Greg on Saturday (yours truly stayed suitably out of the way) - apparently it was all very straightforward although the guy looked rather disturbed by the pink puppy pants on the wall.
It's a responsibility though. Now, every decision is like:
'So do we go straight to Nik's party or stop off at Bar Code on the way?'
'Dunno - what would the typical twentysomething Londoner do?'
'Go to All Bar One and it would be horrible.'
'Good point.'
Or at least, so say Enfield council. There was a national census here in the UK a few months ago, requiring every household to fill in a rather tedious form about their employment, dependents, yadayadayada. We duly filled it in, and now it seems we have been selected, for some unknown reason, to represent the 'typical household of twentysomething London professionals'. Ahem. Although, thinking about it, a neurotic woman and two gay men, working hard but permanently overdrawn, and getting through enough Chardonnay per week to flood a small country, probably is fairly representative.
So far though, our new-found status has just meant yet more questions, in the form of a council bloke who came round to interview Greg on Saturday (yours truly stayed suitably out of the way) - apparently it was all very straightforward although the guy looked rather disturbed by the pink puppy pants on the wall.
It's a responsibility though. Now, every decision is like:
'So do we go straight to Nik's party or stop off at Bar Code on the way?'
'Dunno - what would the typical twentysomething Londoner do?'
'Go to All Bar One and it would be horrible.'
'Good point.'
Pretty much a perfect Sunday. Waking up with Kelvin. Sunshine. Full fry-up for breakfast. Seriously good Eastenders omnibus. And the Vauxhall Tavern still to come. Fantastic.
And some surprise news over the weekend - I am to be an uncle!
Technically speaking it's top secret between my older sister and myself at the moment - she's waiting for a proper doctor's test before getting the rest of the family too excited, but it looks pretty definite. And I'm actually really touched to be the first to know.
Of course, being top secret I probably shouldn't be writing this but I'm fairly damn certain none of my family will have stumbled across this site - and if they have, somehow I think there'd be rather more to answer to than having blabbed about the bubba.
Am determined to be the Cool Uncle:
'Yeah, that's my Uncle Dave, he's got this reaaally cool flat in London, and goes all over the world, and gets me the best presents 'cos he's got this reaaally cool job and earns loads of money...'
Yeah, well, maybe in a few years' time...
And some surprise news over the weekend - I am to be an uncle!
Technically speaking it's top secret between my older sister and myself at the moment - she's waiting for a proper doctor's test before getting the rest of the family too excited, but it looks pretty definite. And I'm actually really touched to be the first to know.
Of course, being top secret I probably shouldn't be writing this but I'm fairly damn certain none of my family will have stumbled across this site - and if they have, somehow I think there'd be rather more to answer to than having blabbed about the bubba.
Am determined to be the Cool Uncle:
'Yeah, that's my Uncle Dave, he's got this reaaally cool flat in London, and goes all over the world, and gets me the best presents 'cos he's got this reaaally cool job and earns loads of money...'
Yeah, well, maybe in a few years' time...
Wednesday, October 31, 2001
It's interior decor war in our flat at the moment.
It's always been wall-to-wall white in every room, which suits me just fine. I like white, it's clean, it's bright, and makes the whole flat seem bigger than it actually is. And with the strategic addition of fairy lights and the odd mirrorball (camp? us?) it kinda sparkles. Well, if you use your imagination a bit.
Greg and Kirsty though, are trying to convince me the living room really wants to be terracotta. Hmmm. I don't think we've ever disagreed about anything in two years, but I'm going to have to make a stand on this one. It's like someone deciding to paint one side of the Pyramids blue because 'Well, it's a bit boring just being that sandy colour all over...'
Meanwhile, in some drunken weekend moment, a pair of small, pink, pants have found themselves pinned to the living room wall. And they've got a picture of a puppy on them. Kirsty reckons we should frame them as art. Greg on the other hand, was heard to protest 'We are NOT having pink pants with a puppy where the fanny should be on our wall!!!'
Personally, I think they're great.
It's always been wall-to-wall white in every room, which suits me just fine. I like white, it's clean, it's bright, and makes the whole flat seem bigger than it actually is. And with the strategic addition of fairy lights and the odd mirrorball (camp? us?) it kinda sparkles. Well, if you use your imagination a bit.
Greg and Kirsty though, are trying to convince me the living room really wants to be terracotta. Hmmm. I don't think we've ever disagreed about anything in two years, but I'm going to have to make a stand on this one. It's like someone deciding to paint one side of the Pyramids blue because 'Well, it's a bit boring just being that sandy colour all over...'
Meanwhile, in some drunken weekend moment, a pair of small, pink, pants have found themselves pinned to the living room wall. And they've got a picture of a puppy on them. Kirsty reckons we should frame them as art. Greg on the other hand, was heard to protest 'We are NOT having pink pants with a puppy where the fanny should be on our wall!!!'
Personally, I think they're great.
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