Got phoned by someone's secretary. Here's how the conversation went....
PA: Hello.
ME: Hello.
PA: I'm [Someone Important]'s PA. You're meeting him today.
ME: Yes?
PA: He called me just now from the train to ask if I could call you.
ME: Okay.
PA: I was wondering, would you like me to call him and ask him to call you, or would you like to call him?
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The Rolling Stones
Never thought I'd ever see them in concert. But I did, and they were *almost* as enjoyable as Girls Aloud.
Partly, it's just the fact that they're there. Standing on a stage, less than a quarter of a mile away from you. It's just amazing.
Ignoring the amazing songs, and the stunning stage show (floating stage! fireworks! streamers!), there was just so much to take in, especially during the bits where they "played a new song".
Mick Jagger - amazing dancer, appalling dresser.
Keith Richards - chain-smoking legend, with an appearance rather like a mummified vegetable discovered down the back of the freezer.
They're all so thin! Is there a Rolling Stones Diet book? Is it from the same publishers as the Kate Moss Diet?
Hi-Definition Big Screen Wow. Not only could you see all of the words on placards, you could also see every single crow's foot.
It was just amazing.
Partly, it's just the fact that they're there. Standing on a stage, less than a quarter of a mile away from you. It's just amazing.
Ignoring the amazing songs, and the stunning stage show (floating stage! fireworks! streamers!), there was just so much to take in, especially during the bits where they "played a new song".
Mick Jagger - amazing dancer, appalling dresser.
Keith Richards - chain-smoking legend, with an appearance rather like a mummified vegetable discovered down the back of the freezer.
They're all so thin! Is there a Rolling Stones Diet book? Is it from the same publishers as the Kate Moss Diet?
Hi-Definition Big Screen Wow. Not only could you see all of the words on placards, you could also see every single crow's foot.
It was just amazing.
Battlestar Galactica
(six episodes in, no spoilers)
Dear Battlestar Galactica
Goodness! You've certainly cornered the market in grim and gritty. But would a joke kill you? Go on - crack a smile! Cheer up - it might never happen! I mean, really, 24 is funnier than you. Doesn't that worry you?
If you carry on at this pace, you'll crack and do something really inadvisable. Like a musical episode.
PS: Dear Jamie Bamber, I appear to have dropped my pen. Would you mind picking it up for me?
Dear Battlestar Galactica
Goodness! You've certainly cornered the market in grim and gritty. But would a joke kill you? Go on - crack a smile! Cheer up - it might never happen! I mean, really, 24 is funnier than you. Doesn't that worry you?
If you carry on at this pace, you'll crack and do something really inadvisable. Like a musical episode.
PS: Dear Jamie Bamber, I appear to have dropped my pen. Would you mind picking it up for me?
Trains
I'm going off rattling between London and Cardiff on the train every week. Thankfully, there's a train strike at the moment, so I can't.
It should, truthfully, be fine - after all, I normally spend my evenings watching DVDs and eating crisps, so why moan about having to do it on a train?
It comes down to four things....
1) Trainline.com - we have to use them, but they're hateful. Their machines barely work, and their customer service helpline only operates 9-5... and yet, when it is open, calls are taken by shrill women in India with the volume turned to 11, so it's like having a row with the speaking clock.
2) Other people. Pissed businessmen sneaking cigarettes in the corridors. Fat straight couples going for all the bases. Japanese Tourist girl who giggled through all 400 of her digital camera pictures, with the bleep-bleep-bleep still turned on....
3) ....And children. Bloody, bloody children. Why do people assume all gayers are paedophiles? I HATE children. Girls with their princess skirts and recorders, boys who SCREAM when they've dropped their crayons, the Aled fucking Jones prodigy who sang Old Macdonald all the way from Newport to Reading.
Children are so annoying that they have their own carriage. And do the shoot-me-i'm-so-tired parents take them there? No, they take their squealing spittle merchants into the Quiet Carriage. Yes, the Quiet Carriage - where slippers are compulsory.
The apocalypse will come when 3 year olds start using mobile phones on trains. Then the world will end. Out of shame.
4) Swindon. Is there, oh is there, a tedium quite like sitting outside Swindon for no apparent reason for 40 minutes?
It should, truthfully, be fine - after all, I normally spend my evenings watching DVDs and eating crisps, so why moan about having to do it on a train?
It comes down to four things....
1) Trainline.com - we have to use them, but they're hateful. Their machines barely work, and their customer service helpline only operates 9-5... and yet, when it is open, calls are taken by shrill women in India with the volume turned to 11, so it's like having a row with the speaking clock.
2) Other people. Pissed businessmen sneaking cigarettes in the corridors. Fat straight couples going for all the bases. Japanese Tourist girl who giggled through all 400 of her digital camera pictures, with the bleep-bleep-bleep still turned on....
3) ....And children. Bloody, bloody children. Why do people assume all gayers are paedophiles? I HATE children. Girls with their princess skirts and recorders, boys who SCREAM when they've dropped their crayons, the Aled fucking Jones prodigy who sang Old Macdonald all the way from Newport to Reading.
Children are so annoying that they have their own carriage. And do the shoot-me-i'm-so-tired parents take them there? No, they take their squealing spittle merchants into the Quiet Carriage. Yes, the Quiet Carriage - where slippers are compulsory.
The apocalypse will come when 3 year olds start using mobile phones on trains. Then the world will end. Out of shame.
4) Swindon. Is there, oh is there, a tedium quite like sitting outside Swindon for no apparent reason for 40 minutes?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Spam of the week
I have been invited to a "Product Development Metrics Summit" by a "John R. [Dick] Power".
It's the fact that he points it out in his sig. Like he introduces himself to people as "Hi, I'm Dick Power."
It's the fact that he points it out in his sig. Like he introduces himself to people as "Hi, I'm Dick Power."
Monday, August 21, 2006
Babies and single women
My beautiful friends had a Christening yesterday. The wonderful Gemma and her husband Serge, the French kickboxing count, formally saved the soul of young Anna Petra Pennings.
It was interesting. I remember these from when I was a kid, running around in plastic black shoes and touching the font (would it, oh would it open up into Narnia?). I'd forgotten how loud they were though - Petra was eerily silent in her vast cake of a gown, but the other babies squealed all the way through.
The exception was Kate's Amelia. Kate's always had A Very Hard Stare that's worked wonders on a succession of boyfriends. Amelia tried out a tentative wail and Kate just glanced at her. Amelia closed her mouth and went to sleep.
But what to get as a present? A tankard? In the end, I went to a bookshop and grabbed all the books that meant the most to me when I was a kid. Wasted on Petra, who is a mere few months, but I figured Gemma and Serge would find them funny when they'd finally got rid of their dull Dutch cousins ("oh! London is craaaaa-zy, yes? Wild, huh?").
So Gemma and Serge got:
I left out Mog the Cat (dated - Mog foils a robber stealing cutlery), and a Moomin story book (yikes! how creepy were they?). Also figured Tintin/Asterix are barred until Gemma and Serge decide which language Petra will enjoy them in.
Most of the fun came at the lunch party afterwards. Especially the pack of slightly deranged single women, surrounded by tired young mums and fat young dads.
Appallingly aware of our singleness, we all started to drink very quickly, and laugh loudly and brittly. "You're gay," they bayed, "Surely you're having a lot of sex!"
"No, not really," I explained. "There's this nice man, and we go out for drinks and hold hands."
"Awwww," they all said.
"Now, there's my friend who's just come out of a relationship. He's very attractive, he's a single gay man, he doesn't feel like another boyfriend, so he's working his way through gay London at warp speed."
"Oh, how sad," they all said.
"What? He's having the time of his life."
"No, no, no, not really," they all said. "He's doing it to hide the pain."
"Then he's hiding it very thoroughly. And in a lot of different places. Five last Sunday."
"That's so tragic!" they sighed.
"But he's just come out of a relationship. He's cheering himself up, proving that he's sexy and desirable, and making a lot of rough men happy. What's wrong with that?"
One broke away from the chorus - "It's... it's.... it's just wrong."
"Basically because he's having a lot of sex?"
"No...."
"A lot of sex and no emotional involvement?"
"There's no such thing as meaningless sex! How can you say that!" they all roared.
"I didn't say it was meaningless. Casual sex makes him happy and it makes me happy - on a dull Sunday afternoon there's really nothing like a blow job behind an oak tree for cheering you up. It's fun... and if you learn their names and how long they've been over here from Brazil, then it's pleasant and polite, but that's it."
They just stared at me. One of them shook her head.
I suddenly realised - I really don't understand women.
It was interesting. I remember these from when I was a kid, running around in plastic black shoes and touching the font (would it, oh would it open up into Narnia?). I'd forgotten how loud they were though - Petra was eerily silent in her vast cake of a gown, but the other babies squealed all the way through.
The exception was Kate's Amelia. Kate's always had A Very Hard Stare that's worked wonders on a succession of boyfriends. Amelia tried out a tentative wail and Kate just glanced at her. Amelia closed her mouth and went to sleep.
But what to get as a present? A tankard? In the end, I went to a bookshop and grabbed all the books that meant the most to me when I was a kid. Wasted on Petra, who is a mere few months, but I figured Gemma and Serge would find them funny when they'd finally got rid of their dull Dutch cousins ("oh! London is craaaaa-zy, yes? Wild, huh?").
So Gemma and Serge got:- Alice in Wonderland - dull but obvious
- Miffy - she always seemed so sad. And now kids get a version they can stroke.
- Flat Stanley - still as weird as ever
- Richard Scarry - although the Rainy Day Activity Book is long out of print. Boo.
- The Very Hungry Caterpillar - the first book I ever read. My appetite has been regulated ever since by the belief that if I eat enough, I'll become pretty.
- Eloise - actually never read these, but saw an article about them in Vanity Fair and decided they're just the kind of books I should have read.
- Mr Happy - is happy. Therefore good.
I left out Mog the Cat (dated - Mog foils a robber stealing cutlery), and a Moomin story book (yikes! how creepy were they?). Also figured Tintin/Asterix are barred until Gemma and Serge decide which language Petra will enjoy them in.
Most of the fun came at the lunch party afterwards. Especially the pack of slightly deranged single women, surrounded by tired young mums and fat young dads.
Appallingly aware of our singleness, we all started to drink very quickly, and laugh loudly and brittly. "You're gay," they bayed, "Surely you're having a lot of sex!"
"No, not really," I explained. "There's this nice man, and we go out for drinks and hold hands."
"Awwww," they all said.
"Now, there's my friend who's just come out of a relationship. He's very attractive, he's a single gay man, he doesn't feel like another boyfriend, so he's working his way through gay London at warp speed."
"Oh, how sad," they all said.
"What? He's having the time of his life."
"No, no, no, not really," they all said. "He's doing it to hide the pain."
"Then he's hiding it very thoroughly. And in a lot of different places. Five last Sunday."
"That's so tragic!" they sighed.
"But he's just come out of a relationship. He's cheering himself up, proving that he's sexy and desirable, and making a lot of rough men happy. What's wrong with that?"
One broke away from the chorus - "It's... it's.... it's just wrong."
"Basically because he's having a lot of sex?"
"No...."
"A lot of sex and no emotional involvement?"
"There's no such thing as meaningless sex! How can you say that!" they all roared.
"I didn't say it was meaningless. Casual sex makes him happy and it makes me happy - on a dull Sunday afternoon there's really nothing like a blow job behind an oak tree for cheering you up. It's fun... and if you learn their names and how long they've been over here from Brazil, then it's pleasant and polite, but that's it."
They just stared at me. One of them shook her head.
I suddenly realised - I really don't understand women.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Your home-selling horrors answered!
Are you a scary home-selling dragon? Do you terrorise the menstrual mothers of the neighbourhood with tupperware targets and crystal campaigns? But hey - aren't there just sometimes not enough hours in the day? Especially when, girls, it comes to emailing out a newsletter full of bible quotes and fuckin scary salespeak.
Then rush to UNIT News. They'll write your emails for you, leaving you plenty of time to push your children around on tricycles.
Why not read a sample newsletter. And remember - don't just let anybody dump into your mental factory
Random Link
Every now and then I click the "Queer Diaries" link on the left. Often it goes to a broken page, or the latest entry reads - "January 13, 2005 - I'm know now that Roo really cuts through all my shit, so I'm just gonna follow him to LA. I'm following my dreams. Will post again next week to tell you they went. Wish me luck!!!"
So, I click it this morning, and get a food diary. Sample entry:
Oh my god. Why?
PS: Suddenly I feel fat.
So, I click it this morning, and get a food diary. Sample entry:
- Brunch today was scrambled tofu plus a piece of toast with Earth Balance.
Midafternoon I had an apple and some raw cashews...
Peach Berry Smoothie. Whizzzed it up in the blender. It's okay but I think I used too much flaxseed.
Oh my god. Why?
PS: Suddenly I feel fat.
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