Only gay men could reinvent mugging as a hobby.
What other group of people could possibly think of this as fun?
- Going into some woods.
- At night.
- Alone.
- In the dark.
- Inviting a stranger to take you somewhere even more isolated?
Last night I finally went to Hampstead Heath. It has some kind of mythos in gay culture as being like a perpetual, twilight gay woodstock, only with shagging.
Nonsense. It was dark - too dark to see most people. There was no lighting. There was just the crunch of gravel, and the alarming knowledge that ugly men were glaring at me.
I can't imagine anything less liberating and fun that going to a darkroom. This was like going to a darkroom, but with nettles.
I did, eventually manage to discern a man who was probably pretty, and drag him off for a bushwank. But it wasn't terribly fulfilling really.
Frankly, if I wanted to stand around, thinking about the West Wing while getting indifferent head, I'd still be with my last boyfriend.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
Monday, August 11, 2003
Johnny Depp's Entrance
.... in Pirates of the Carribbean is one of the best entrances in the visual medium. Period.
Other good entrances:
- The President in the first episode of the West Wing
- Locutus of Borg
- The Daleks
- The First at the start of Season Seven of Buffy.
- Grace Kelly in Rear Window
All good entrances. Really, you know... nice. But still a mere nothing compared to Captain Jack Sparrow.
PS: This film also contains an orchestral score you could go jogging to. If you were very fit.
Other good entrances:
- The President in the first episode of the West Wing
- Locutus of Borg
- The Daleks
- The First at the start of Season Seven of Buffy.
- Grace Kelly in Rear Window
All good entrances. Really, you know... nice. But still a mere nothing compared to Captain Jack Sparrow.
PS: This film also contains an orchestral score you could go jogging to. If you were very fit.
Meetings
Why, when someone says "This won't take long" does time suddenly stretch out, slow down and stop?
Dammit. I'm in my twenties. Still.
I *like* being in my twenties.
I *like* being in people in their twenties.
I only have a finite number of days of my twenties left.
What excuse do vacillating morons have for taking two of those precious, never to be repeated hours of my youth away from me with a meeting about NOTHING? I could be having pointless sex with the pretty new programmer.
And why do they tut at me just 'cos I'm reading a book during their meeting?
Quote from this morning's meeting: "Joey is in charge of a new project. It's to scope out whether or not we should progress to formulate a basic framework for our strategy of response to the idea that going forward we need to look at addressing, and perhaps changing, the way we approach our community-facing operational decisions. But it's early days at the moment."
What this means: Our messageboards are broken. We could fix this really important thing. Or we could look to the long term.
It is a bit like a fireman turning up and saying "Yes, your house is on fire. Let's start planning building a new one."
Dammit. I'm in my twenties. Still.
I *like* being in my twenties.
I *like* being in people in their twenties.
I only have a finite number of days of my twenties left.
What excuse do vacillating morons have for taking two of those precious, never to be repeated hours of my youth away from me with a meeting about NOTHING? I could be having pointless sex with the pretty new programmer.
And why do they tut at me just 'cos I'm reading a book during their meeting?
Quote from this morning's meeting: "Joey is in charge of a new project. It's to scope out whether or not we should progress to formulate a basic framework for our strategy of response to the idea that going forward we need to look at addressing, and perhaps changing, the way we approach our community-facing operational decisions. But it's early days at the moment."
What this means: Our messageboards are broken. We could fix this really important thing. Or we could look to the long term.
It is a bit like a fireman turning up and saying "Yes, your house is on fire. Let's start planning building a new one."
Friday, August 08, 2003
Discoveries
Not all cats like marmite.
Not all boys like Kylie.
Quorn sausages taste just as bad as real ones.
The men you want to call seldom do.
I can't digest Magnums.
Straight couples get engaged in heatwaves.
I appear to earn too much money.
While you can't buy happiness, you can buy DVDs.
All publicists are evil hell demons who will die alone and hated by their children. Even the maggots consuming their rotting flesh wil shudder with revulsion.
Peppermint tea is scrummy.
Not all boys like Kylie.
Quorn sausages taste just as bad as real ones.
The men you want to call seldom do.
I can't digest Magnums.
Straight couples get engaged in heatwaves.
I appear to earn too much money.
While you can't buy happiness, you can buy DVDs.
All publicists are evil hell demons who will die alone and hated by their children. Even the maggots consuming their rotting flesh wil shudder with revulsion.
Peppermint tea is scrummy.
Blue Peter Appeal
Blue Peter Appeal video clip
Of course, these people are poor. And filthy. And probably sluts. But we want to give them a chance to play football in the cold by the sea. Just once. To give them a glimpse of a proper life. And a night in the caravan with sweaty "uncle" Roger and a little secret that they can treasure forever.
Of course, these people are poor. And filthy. And probably sluts. But we want to give them a chance to play football in the cold by the sea. Just once. To give them a glimpse of a proper life. And a night in the caravan with sweaty "uncle" Roger and a little secret that they can treasure forever.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
A dream I made earlier
Bad dream:
All the other Blue Peter presenters were off having amazing sex in glamorous locations, while I was in the studio making soup.
All the other Blue Peter presenters were off having amazing sex in glamorous locations, while I was in the studio making soup.
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
BARBIEGAY
This weekend I went to a big gay bbq.
Most of the men there were gay.
Except for a fab lady called EJ.
Most of them had slept with the host Daniel.
Except for me, EJ, and a man from Ireland who slouched in late, sat in a corner, and refused, frankly, to sleep with anyone there.
There is always one.
It was gay because...
1) Most of the preparations went into the salad.
2) The cooking of the meat involved fussing over marinade, and making sure people on the Atkins diet were adequately catered for.
3) Hot dogs out. Ciabatta in.
4) People drinking beer felt the need to apologise.
5) Everyone kept out of the sun ("Brad Pitt swears by the shade.")
Gay remark of the afternoon was won by EJ, who suddenly announced "My friend Pete once rimmed Limahl."
This weekend I went to a big gay bbq.
Most of the men there were gay.
Except for a fab lady called EJ.
Most of them had slept with the host Daniel.
Except for me, EJ, and a man from Ireland who slouched in late, sat in a corner, and refused, frankly, to sleep with anyone there.
There is always one.
It was gay because...
1) Most of the preparations went into the salad.
2) The cooking of the meat involved fussing over marinade, and making sure people on the Atkins diet were adequately catered for.
3) Hot dogs out. Ciabatta in.
4) People drinking beer felt the need to apologise.
5) Everyone kept out of the sun ("Brad Pitt swears by the shade.")
Gay remark of the afternoon was won by EJ, who suddenly announced "My friend Pete once rimmed Limahl."
GOOD THINGS ABOUT TODAY
1./ The sun is shining.
2./ I have done all of my To-Do List. Except for the stupid things that I will never do.
3./ I've discovered I don't like Prawn Mayonaise sandwiches. Thank god, as the fat content is alarming.
BAD THINGS ABOUT TODAY
1./ I am going to get no more work done.
2./ I have to go to a rubbish meeting that will be A Huge Waste Of My Life. Two hours of my twenties are about to be pissed down the drain.
3./ The air conditioning stops working ten feet from my desk.
1./ The sun is shining.
2./ I have done all of my To-Do List. Except for the stupid things that I will never do.
3./ I've discovered I don't like Prawn Mayonaise sandwiches. Thank god, as the fat content is alarming.
BAD THINGS ABOUT TODAY
1./ I am going to get no more work done.
2./ I have to go to a rubbish meeting that will be A Huge Waste Of My Life. Two hours of my twenties are about to be pissed down the drain.
3./ The air conditioning stops working ten feet from my desk.
LAST NIGHT'S SHAG
Was Welsh and called John Rodriquez. Obviously.
Met him at the Black Cap in Camden. He was pretty but drunk. Not in a rolls-eyes-vomits-staggers way - just in an amiable/slightly repeating way.
Had a weird evening, lying in bed, baking alive thanks to the mini heatwave.
Every now and then he'd wake up and murmur a random fact from the night before
- "Did I mention I'd had 13 pints?"
- "You don't have a suit I can borrow do you?"
- "I've had thirteen pints. I'm still drunk."
- and, endearingly.... "Where am I?"
I think he amuses me.
He signed off sick the next day by text message. That's casual.
Was Welsh and called John Rodriquez. Obviously.
Met him at the Black Cap in Camden. He was pretty but drunk. Not in a rolls-eyes-vomits-staggers way - just in an amiable/slightly repeating way.
Had a weird evening, lying in bed, baking alive thanks to the mini heatwave.
Every now and then he'd wake up and murmur a random fact from the night before
- "Did I mention I'd had 13 pints?"
- "You don't have a suit I can borrow do you?"
- "I've had thirteen pints. I'm still drunk."
- and, endearingly.... "Where am I?"
I think he amuses me.
He signed off sick the next day by text message. That's casual.
SKIP AND THE PARTY
It had been a difficult acorn harvest that year. Skip had been working terribly hard on his exciting new acorn store, and had been busily tap tapping away putting up new shelves for the acorns. But at last, all that hard work was over.
All the acorns were in, and had been lovingly polished until Skip could see his merry face shining back from each one as he placed it in its very own velvet niche in his lovely new acorn store.
There was a stern "rat-a-tat-tat" as the door fell down under a hail of bullets.
Scowl entered. "You'll need a new door," he muttered.
"Ooh!" squeaked Skip, "it's you! Have you come to look at my shelves?"
Scowl blinked. Slowly. "No." he replied. "I have come to take you to a party in the Muttering Meadow."
For a short second, Skip's twitching whiskers were still. "The Muttering Meadow? I'm not sure about that. What could I possibly have to talk to the animals of Muttering Meadow about?"
Scowl grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. "You can tell them all about your shelves."
****
It was a long journey to the Muttering Meadow, through happy little fields, and funny little valleys, full of laughing birds and chittering rabbits.
Skip and Scowl walked along the stony path, Skip running on ahead, and then scampering back to encourage Scowl along. Scowl just walked at his own pace, smoking a narrow clay pipe, and kicking snails.
As always with a new idea, Skip was terribly excited.
"Will there be buttercup juice?" asked Skip.
"Probably." said Scowl.
"And will there be brambleberry jelly?"
"Usually."
"And chestnut jam?"
"If we're quick."
***
Eventually, they came to the top of a small, sunny hill, and there, before them, was the Muttering Meadow. There were already some animals there, talking merrily away in little groups.
"Oh," said Skip, his eyes losing their usual gleam, "I thought you said there would be a bouncy castle or a trampoline..."
"There will be if you lie down." growled Scowl. "Did you bring some acorns with you?"
"Why yes, of course. I thought the animals might like some."
"And you were right." said Scowl, snatching the bundle. "Hello everyone! I've brought acorns!"
Scowl marched into the Meadow, leaving Skip smiling nervously on the edge.
***
But Skip wasn't alone for long. Big Badger soon wandered over. "Hullo!" beamed Badger, "I'm brilliant! And so is my wife!"
"Hello," said Skip.
"Gosh," laughed Badger heartily, "It's so tiring telling everyone how lovely I am. I'm famished. Have you got any acorns?"
"ah, No...." sighed Skip.
"Well, toodle pip! Come along brilliant Mrs Badger."
And Skip was alone for a bit longer.
***
Old Hamster wandered up to him next. "Don't believe a word of it." he announced.
"I'm sorry?" said Skip, looking up from his weak elderflower champagne.
"A lot of people here don't like you. But not me. I still like you. Despite your crimes." Hamster pecked at a small beetle.
"What crimes?" asked Skip, nervously edging back towards the happy forest.
"Well, you've been telling everyone how brilliant Badger is, for a start."
"Have I?"
"Yes, and everyone knows that Wise Robin is far more clever than Badger."
"Oh. Well, I don't really know them that well-" Skip looked nervously away. In the distance, Scowl was happily showing the other animals his new chainsaw.
"That's no excuse. We all decided years ago. But don't worry about it - I really still like you. Even if you have been wasting acorns."
"oh - uh - have I?" From the other side of the field, Scowl was waving a hand. It wasn't his own.
"Yes. Everyone knows you've not been looking after the acorns properly. But don't worry. I'm sure you had a really good reason. Oh look - there's someone else I don't like very much. I'm just off to laugh at them. Enjoy the nutmeg."
Skip was terribly confused. He had been rather pleased about the acorns. But perhaps he shouldn't have let young Miss Squirrell tell everyone about the acorns before the harvest was quite finished. They may all have got the wrong idea.
***
Skip felt a sudden sharp pain in the ribs. He looked around, expecting the familiar comforting presence of Scowl, but instead found Sneer, the vole who used to run Woodland Times.
"I'm surprised you dare show your face here." shouted Sneer.
"Why?"
"Everyone knows about the disastrous acorn harvest."
"Disaster? But there are more acorns than ever this year. And they're on nice new shelves...."
"I know all about the shelves. They'd have been much better if I put them up."
"......" managed Skip, smiling apologetically.
"In fact, I'm sure I did put the shelves up. Or they were my idea in the first place. I haven't decided yet. But I know you've ruined them. Everyone's been talking excitedly about how they'd have put the shelves up so much better if they'd been asked to."
"................" said Skip. A bit lost. His heady was spinning dizzily, a feeling he normally only got when doing Scowl's accounts.
"Why didn't you tell us you were putting up shelves? We knew all about your plans to put up shelves, of course. It was all our idea. But you should have told us first. Then we could have told you how to do it. Although you stole the idea of putting up the shelves from us."
"I - I - I - don't.... think....." Skip felt lost. In the distance, he could just hear the faint roar of the chainsaw, and see tree after tree toppling down.
"Anyway, the whole shelf idea is despicable. And a disgusting thing to do to acorns. Can I kiss you?"
"What? No!" protested Skip.
"I think you're terribly smug. I despise you. Oh go on - just a small kiss."
"Oh. No! No!" wailed Skip, backing away. A long way away, he could just see Mister and Mrs Badger dancing happily around each other.
"I've heard the acorns taste terrible this year. I don't know how you dare be here. Well, can I touch you then?"
"I don't know what you mean-" gasped Skip. Even further away, he could see Hamster standing next to Wise Robin. They were giggling.
"Let me touch you!" roared Sneer, advancing on him, "You smug worm! You loathsome insect! You insensitive slug! I've got to have you!"
"It's uh, not that, I, ah.... it's just that... well.... don't you already share a burrow with another vole?"
"Oh, that! Don't be boring and smug. He's hibernating already. And, if you let me touch you, then maybe I'll be nice about your acorns."
"No!"
"Let me have your acorns!"
"No!"
"Let me lick them! I have to have your acorns! I demand them!"
Skip paused. His eyes wandered across the Muttering Meadow to all the other happy animals. To the industrious little owls who were busy organising games, to the happy pandas making little cakes, and to the frolicking lambs who were chasing each other through the meadow. And then Skip looked back to Sneer, advancing on him, licking his lips with a terrible, slavering hunger, most surprising for such a small vole.
And then Skip ran, ran until he was safe in his little burrow, safe amongst his shelves, safe with a little pot of acorn polish. And then Skip slept, and had unquiet dreams.
It had been a difficult acorn harvest that year. Skip had been working terribly hard on his exciting new acorn store, and had been busily tap tapping away putting up new shelves for the acorns. But at last, all that hard work was over.
All the acorns were in, and had been lovingly polished until Skip could see his merry face shining back from each one as he placed it in its very own velvet niche in his lovely new acorn store.
There was a stern "rat-a-tat-tat" as the door fell down under a hail of bullets.
Scowl entered. "You'll need a new door," he muttered.
"Ooh!" squeaked Skip, "it's you! Have you come to look at my shelves?"
Scowl blinked. Slowly. "No." he replied. "I have come to take you to a party in the Muttering Meadow."
For a short second, Skip's twitching whiskers were still. "The Muttering Meadow? I'm not sure about that. What could I possibly have to talk to the animals of Muttering Meadow about?"
Scowl grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. "You can tell them all about your shelves."
****
It was a long journey to the Muttering Meadow, through happy little fields, and funny little valleys, full of laughing birds and chittering rabbits.
Skip and Scowl walked along the stony path, Skip running on ahead, and then scampering back to encourage Scowl along. Scowl just walked at his own pace, smoking a narrow clay pipe, and kicking snails.
As always with a new idea, Skip was terribly excited.
"Will there be buttercup juice?" asked Skip.
"Probably." said Scowl.
"And will there be brambleberry jelly?"
"Usually."
"And chestnut jam?"
"If we're quick."
***
Eventually, they came to the top of a small, sunny hill, and there, before them, was the Muttering Meadow. There were already some animals there, talking merrily away in little groups.
"Oh," said Skip, his eyes losing their usual gleam, "I thought you said there would be a bouncy castle or a trampoline..."
"There will be if you lie down." growled Scowl. "Did you bring some acorns with you?"
"Why yes, of course. I thought the animals might like some."
"And you were right." said Scowl, snatching the bundle. "Hello everyone! I've brought acorns!"
Scowl marched into the Meadow, leaving Skip smiling nervously on the edge.
***
But Skip wasn't alone for long. Big Badger soon wandered over. "Hullo!" beamed Badger, "I'm brilliant! And so is my wife!"
"Hello," said Skip.
"Gosh," laughed Badger heartily, "It's so tiring telling everyone how lovely I am. I'm famished. Have you got any acorns?"
"ah, No...." sighed Skip.
"Well, toodle pip! Come along brilliant Mrs Badger."
And Skip was alone for a bit longer.
***
Old Hamster wandered up to him next. "Don't believe a word of it." he announced.
"I'm sorry?" said Skip, looking up from his weak elderflower champagne.
"A lot of people here don't like you. But not me. I still like you. Despite your crimes." Hamster pecked at a small beetle.
"What crimes?" asked Skip, nervously edging back towards the happy forest.
"Well, you've been telling everyone how brilliant Badger is, for a start."
"Have I?"
"Yes, and everyone knows that Wise Robin is far more clever than Badger."
"Oh. Well, I don't really know them that well-" Skip looked nervously away. In the distance, Scowl was happily showing the other animals his new chainsaw.
"That's no excuse. We all decided years ago. But don't worry about it - I really still like you. Even if you have been wasting acorns."
"oh - uh - have I?" From the other side of the field, Scowl was waving a hand. It wasn't his own.
"Yes. Everyone knows you've not been looking after the acorns properly. But don't worry. I'm sure you had a really good reason. Oh look - there's someone else I don't like very much. I'm just off to laugh at them. Enjoy the nutmeg."
Skip was terribly confused. He had been rather pleased about the acorns. But perhaps he shouldn't have let young Miss Squirrell tell everyone about the acorns before the harvest was quite finished. They may all have got the wrong idea.
***
Skip felt a sudden sharp pain in the ribs. He looked around, expecting the familiar comforting presence of Scowl, but instead found Sneer, the vole who used to run Woodland Times.
"I'm surprised you dare show your face here." shouted Sneer.
"Why?"
"Everyone knows about the disastrous acorn harvest."
"Disaster? But there are more acorns than ever this year. And they're on nice new shelves...."
"I know all about the shelves. They'd have been much better if I put them up."
"......" managed Skip, smiling apologetically.
"In fact, I'm sure I did put the shelves up. Or they were my idea in the first place. I haven't decided yet. But I know you've ruined them. Everyone's been talking excitedly about how they'd have put the shelves up so much better if they'd been asked to."
"................" said Skip. A bit lost. His heady was spinning dizzily, a feeling he normally only got when doing Scowl's accounts.
"Why didn't you tell us you were putting up shelves? We knew all about your plans to put up shelves, of course. It was all our idea. But you should have told us first. Then we could have told you how to do it. Although you stole the idea of putting up the shelves from us."
"I - I - I - don't.... think....." Skip felt lost. In the distance, he could just hear the faint roar of the chainsaw, and see tree after tree toppling down.
"Anyway, the whole shelf idea is despicable. And a disgusting thing to do to acorns. Can I kiss you?"
"What? No!" protested Skip.
"I think you're terribly smug. I despise you. Oh go on - just a small kiss."
"Oh. No! No!" wailed Skip, backing away. A long way away, he could just see Mister and Mrs Badger dancing happily around each other.
"I've heard the acorns taste terrible this year. I don't know how you dare be here. Well, can I touch you then?"
"I don't know what you mean-" gasped Skip. Even further away, he could see Hamster standing next to Wise Robin. They were giggling.
"Let me touch you!" roared Sneer, advancing on him, "You smug worm! You loathsome insect! You insensitive slug! I've got to have you!"
"It's uh, not that, I, ah.... it's just that... well.... don't you already share a burrow with another vole?"
"Oh, that! Don't be boring and smug. He's hibernating already. And, if you let me touch you, then maybe I'll be nice about your acorns."
"No!"
"Let me have your acorns!"
"No!"
"Let me lick them! I have to have your acorns! I demand them!"
Skip paused. His eyes wandered across the Muttering Meadow to all the other happy animals. To the industrious little owls who were busy organising games, to the happy pandas making little cakes, and to the frolicking lambs who were chasing each other through the meadow. And then Skip looked back to Sneer, advancing on him, licking his lips with a terrible, slavering hunger, most surprising for such a small vole.
And then Skip ran, ran until he was safe in his little burrow, safe amongst his shelves, safe with a little pot of acorn polish. And then Skip slept, and had unquiet dreams.
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