Willowing Wisps

This can't be good...

2009-09-13T19:02:00.002+01:00

Something appears to have gone terribly wrong. I am suffering a bout of the usual Man Flu that goes round at this time of year; for those who, like my poor indignant boyfriend, have never heard the phrase, it means I have a cold. And that, were I a man, I would be calling it the flu while making plaintive noises about the strong possibility of my imminent death.

And this Man Flu has led to the frighteningly boring culmination of several illness-induced things:

1. Fever dreams - they're meant to be vivid and exciting and leave you wondering what the hell is going on, yes? Not mine. Apparently the fact I seem to have miraculously avoided Spider Fortnight this year is concerning my subconscious. So I dreamed I was looking for spiders. Except there weren't any spiders. So, essentially, I spent the whole night dreaming about carpet. Carpet! It's no great wonder that I eventually got up just to escape the sheer, crushing boredom.

2. Derren Brown - something about his Lottery prediction has really piqued my interest, so I must confess to having spent several of my waking hours reading all the commentary on the Guardian blog (best comment of the lot, posted while the reveal show was running: "This is a load of flannel"). Most of the comments, as they tend to do in these situations, said pretty much the same thing. So, having bored myself silly during my sleep, I continued the process by reading the same thing 600 times.

(For the record, I totally guessed how it was actually done while the show was still going on. The split camera bit, not the stupid Wisdom of Crowds bit. And I'm also pretty sure that the stupid explanations are all part of a bigger reveal that will come later. Sorry Rest of the World, this probably won't make sense outside of England...)

3. I have now tried to watch the first episode of Warehouse 13 four times. Each time, I have either been interrupted or lost my satellite signal for no apparent reason. And it's always during the same part, so I'm becoming awfully, boringly familiar with a very specific portion of it.

4. I realised things were reaching epic dull proportions when I felt genuine excitement at how neatly I'd torn the wrapping from a toilet roll.

Please won't somebody save me? Please?

A prison made of self

2009-09-10T22:31:00.005+01:00

For a very long time I've felt lonely and useless. It goes back, annoyingly, to the job I was working in at the beginning of the year - though, for the record, not to the insults from my "superior" that my career, education and life in general were useless and laughable.

I would like to blame it on that whole experience, but it wouldn't be the truth: I went quiet not only because I was working 11-hour days while pushing 3 or 4 more in the attempt to pull myself out and couldn't keep up, but because I couldn't pretend I was ok. And so I ceased to find any pleasure in texting, calling, blogging, logging into SL, Plurk - all of it. And so began the decline.

For some reason, I feel the need to reassure everyone I love that I'm fine. I feel the need to not burden them with my useless crap, though my biggest fault is wondering why they don't already know, while at the same time being aware they cannot know if I don't tell them. So I disappear to lick my wounds, and wallow, and then have no idea how to come back, and every attempt I make falls flat precisely because I'm holding back.

I know so many amazing people, and so many I love and admire, and at some point I stopped knowing how to let them know how much I care. But, if you're reading this and wondering whether it's you I mean: yes it is. And I miss you all, more than I can express.

Transatlantic Dashing

2009-08-13T16:41:00.003+01:00

In case there are any burglars reading: my flat will be vacant and welcoming for the next fortnight, do feel free to make yourself a nice cup of tea while you're at it and the key is under the mat.

(It's not.)

It's that time again, you see: time for a transatlantic booty call, to the arms of my darling boyfriend; it's been far too long since I was close enough for snuggly affection. He was in London in May, but since then the distance has been back between us. It's hard, yes, but by God those kisses are worth it.

So, in the interests of making it back into his arms, I shall be boarding a 13-hour flight tomorrow and inflicting myself upon him - and his whole family - in Wyoming.

My hair is trimmed and shiny, my teeth are cleaned and also shiny, I am waxed and smooth (but not shiny). I have completed the Refusal To Be Bored On A Plane Campaign and therefore have hand luggage filled with laptop, DVD player, PSP, iPhone and an entire Arthur C. Clarke trilogy. None of which, of course, I will be in the mood to do should I have chosen one of those planes that just plays soap re-runs on TV screens that are in the aisle, several metres ahead and to the side.

And I have finally finished the packing - although my process was a little questionable and culminated in so many things strewn around my flat I might equally have called it "unpacking" - and am now doing all the odds and sods that need doing before one exits the premises for two weeks. Someone please remind me I haven't watered the plants.

One more sleep and it's airport kisses time!

Things I Learned Tonight

2009-08-09T00:03:00.008+01:00

1. GI Joe is not a good movie. It's got a pleasing number of bangs and whistles, but a script written by a halfwit.

2. Burnt Sienna Miller (thank you Tim) has a club foot. Unless that's her "sexy walk".

3. Channing Tatum reacts to danger by looking like he's about to burst into tears. He's also as close to cross-eyed as dammit. And he looks like a potato. An emo potato.

4. Taglines are difficult to write. "When everyone else gives up... they don't." Really? 'Don't'? Is that honestly the only verb that sprang to mind? What about 'save the day', 'prevail', 'kick things while shouting a lot'? Just 'don't'? Isn't that a bit like a dog worrying a sheep?

5. Richmond Odeon has appalling sound quality. In addition, its staff are apt to scarper before you exit the movie, denying you whinging rights.

6. Blowing up Paris is fun under any circumstances.

7. The credits boasted that the movie had a Mold Department. You need a whole team of people to leave a mug under the sofa these days?

8. Lord n'Lady GaGa has a pee-pee. Which I did not find out from the movie, incidentally. An evening with Tim is nothing if not educational. I still love her though, my life would not be the same without Poker Face.

Insect Asylum

2009-08-07T17:11:00.005+01:00

We are not amused. Somehow my flat, through no fault of its own, has become a haven for bugs of all shapes, sizes and backgrounds. A safe place to buzz and flap, without risk of discrimination.

Why me??

It started with a wasp and ends with a wasp. Wasp the former apparently sat on my head for the better part of a day (as the only time I ventured into the stickily hot outdoors was during the afternoon), only to be discovered at bedtime, when I ran my hand over my hair and was rewarded with an annoyed "BZZZZ -.-". I think I woke him up.

This time last year we had a slug problem in the garden - the little buggers kept coming up and over my window and then questing across the kitchen floor. Nothing there of interest, guys, turn back. That was pretty revolting, but I can't decide if it was better or worse than the insect asylum.

A couple of days ago, I walked into my flat to see a spider sitting on my anti-spider electrical device. The one that is supposed to emit a high pitched squealing that insects are unable to tolerate. The cheek of it! As Laura put it, it was much like a stubborn child saying: "Yeah, I really like this noise ANYWAY!! It's my favourite ."

There was also an incident with a mosquito biting me in a place I would prefer not to have been visited by an insect, let alone bitten. That is all I shall say about that.

And last night, as I slumbered safe and warm in my bed, dreaming, no doubt, of cookies and cream, I rolled over onto a wasp that had decided to join me and got stung on the ankle.

That's it, I declare war.

Reboot: The Pre-credits Bit

2009-08-05T19:52:00.020+01:00

Not very long ago, Sparky Tim informed me, as he ferried me home from the cinema, that I've stopped blogging. I had, of course, already noticed that I've stopped blogging, but I still had no excuse. Bearing in mind I've left it so long since my last post that I'm coughing up cobwebs with every keystroke, how can I possibly get going again without writing a hundred catch-up posts? It's been an interesting year, after all.

"So reboot it," he said, in a not uncommon moment of sense. "It worked for Star Trek."

Mind you, he then shared his intention to go and twist his body into funny shapes in a room with the temperature cranked up to 100 (something to do with Yoga), so not everything that comes out of his mouth is a pearl of wisdom.

So this post, if you like, is the bit before the credits, before I go storming off into another chapter. The bit where I catch you up on what's been going on, so that I'm making at least some sense when I get on with the wittering. This, I think, will go best on a month-by-month basis, beginning just after I left off...

February
Typical, had to start on a big one, didn't I? At the beginning of that month, I turned 30, an occasion I celebrated with a significant amount of booze (and munch) and the company of my favourite people in Oxygen, my favourite bar. I avoided the mid-life crisis, but not the hangover. Funniest moment of the night? Trying to put my pyjama top on inside out, upside down and twisted half back to front, as Laura tutted at me and said, "That's literally how an idiot tries to get dressed".

Later that month, W*P*D and I invaded America - now there's one I wish I'd blogged properly at the time. We started in NYC, moved on to Vegas and then drove down to LA; I came back with an extra suitcase (mostly full of clothes), a profound appreciation of the continent (especially its food and people), a mistrust of Yank cocktails and a boyfriend.

Yes, that's right folks - for anyone who hasn't been following my indiscretions on Perplexed and the City, I did indeed go to America and fall in love. And if you haven't already been bored silly by it, you can find out more here and here about how virtual life became real life with just one gaze across an airport.

March

Most of this month was spent in corporate hell, working very long hours for a shockingly unpleasant company. Low pay, low quality and, worst of all, an appalling attitude towards contributers, which meant I was repeatedly ordered to wriggle out of paying them. Screwing people over for their hard work? Not my ambition in life, really. Especially not for a boss I suspect was a little wrong in the head (that being the part of her doing all the shrieking).

April

I escaped hell in April, bravely jacking in that terrible job despite the money munch. Since then, Mewsic, Ghost and I have been working on machinima, making pretty videos as Sound'r - so much more fun.

Canimal also came to stay for a week, during which we went to see Spike from Buffy play live. Oh yes.

May
The aforementioned boyfriend came to visit for a blissful couple of weeks, another topic covered in depth here. It might not be easy falling for a man who lives thousands of miles away, but when you do get to spend time together, and you decide that this might well be the one you'd like to spend all your time with, it can be safely chalked up as the highlight of the year (if not most years). Pleasingly, my friends are equally keen on him: he and Best Mate's fiance made firm friends, while Best Mate has become a one-woman cheerleading squad for the Marry Them Off campaign. We spent a fabulous evening making art with W*P*D, and another drinking cocktails and making merry with Laura, Willis, Johan and Danni. Good times!

June

Aside from moping about missing my man, this was a fairly quiet month spent on Sound'r things.

July

Best Mate got married! The month began with her hen party, which went from posh afternoon tea in a swanky hotel to cider and black in my favourite rock pub, The Intrepid Fox. The night before which I had spent drinking vodka with Willis, and the day after which I spent watching Wimbledon with Pignut. Brilliant.

The wedding itself was beautiful, and perfect, just as it should have been - because those two are a perfect couple and belong together, so there were nothing but smiles from everyone there. Including from me (I may or may not have expressed my pleased-ness many times to anyone who was listening and several who weren't). She looked stunning, and our bridesmaids' dresses were purty, and I got a beautiful necklace as a gift for wafting about in it, too. Also brilliant.

And W*P*D had her first gallery opening, too! Another incredibly well-deserved moment for her huge amount of bravery and whole heap of talent - plus one of the paintings that went up was part of the series we helped her prepare for in May, and features little old me. Still brilliant.

So there you have it: a swift overview of the year so far, and now normal service can and probably will resume. Good idea, this reboot thing, innit?

Numpty Strikes Out Again

2009-01-11T05:18:00.008Z

Not that I wish to start the year on a negative note - and aware, also, that I'm running a little late with the resolutions part of the new year - but my ambition for 2009 was, I'm afraid, born of A Bit Of An Emo.

Looking back at last year's resolutions, I don't think I've done too badly, money aside, and I was doing pretty well with that until the credit crunched - or, as Ian put it, the arrival of the money munch.

I did escape England and in six weeks I'll be doing so again on my Yankland extravaganza with W*P*D - I might be a year late, but I'm going to Las Vegas to see Vici after all. I did learn new skills, I did read better (I'm even a regular reader of The Spectator these days) and I did, in general terms, Be Better, although not in the specific ways I had planned. Tim is going to need to buy those bigger robes and grow his beard, as his position as Entertainment Guru (barring the unpleasant experience of watching The Spirit) was fully secured. And I carried through one particular resolution that changed everything else along with it - I never spoke of it here, and still won't, but most of you know what I'm on about. And if not, feel free to ask.

And, best of all, I discovered just how talented and amazing all my friends are, and got to spend a considerable amount of time investigating said marvellousness and then boasting that I know them. That wasn't on the list, but I count it as an achievement.

But then there's the downside: I'm not a lot closer to finishing the dusty book that's plagued me for so long. I wrote some, promptly hated it (as is my wont) and set it aside for a while, telling myself it would come when it was ready - then changed that thought to: "Well maybe it's not the one I should start with, it's a bit ambitious what with all the research and trying to talk like an Egyptian". That's talk, not walk.

So I started a new one, stunning myself one evening with a cracking idea that not only fed into all my geeky loves in life - angels, fantasy and so on - but would also let me write in the style I'm comfortable with. Perfect, I thought, and sat down to write the first page.

It was met with varying reactions. W*P*D declared it hilarious and immediately offered to illustrate every chapter (if you've seen any of her paintings, you'll know just how hoppingly exciting that is) and Tim and Ghost liked the idea and are considering donating chapters of their own.

But then I sent it to MummyC, who said only that it was overwritten and awkward. I rewrote it, she liked it better, but both Ghost and I think it's completely lost its soul.

Which triggered a realisation. When it comes to writing, I'm perfectly happy wittering away on this blog - and on Perplexed and the City - and I've never had any qualms when it comes to tapping the keyboard at work. I think the number of magazine articles I've seen published now tops the 100 mark - I have a portfolio of them up here, if you're particularly lacking for things to do, but please bear in mind they weren't written for the intellectual portion of society. It's not an achievement I ought to dismiss, but somehow I do.

The second I open the files for either of my books, I immediately want to slit my wrists - I can't relax into it, so it comes out self-consciously. I go back to them frustrated, read them over, hate what I've written with every fibre of my being and throw a small tantrum that ends with a sworn oath to NEVER BLOODY BOTHER AGAIN.

I've wanted to write fiction since I was a child. I vaguely recall mentioning this before - I can't be bothered to check - but I first had a go at writing a book when I was about 13. It went marvellously: it was based on the wonderfully cheesy Point Horror series and managed to include virtually every possible means of killing off your characters within 100 pages. I had classmates sat next to my desk waiting for me to finish the next page and then passing it round - mind you, I cunningly named characters after some of them in an early demonstration of marketing prowess. A fair number of other attempts followed as the years went by, but not one of them is finished, and I eventually lost the will to try.

It wasn't until I met Ghost that I realised just how well I'd walled off that part of me with bricks made of stupid excuses. Watching his constant creativity, going starry-eyed over everything he creates, tapping into his ever-artistic brain (it was he who inspired the newest of my never-to-be-a-books), passing many a happy hour talking of plots and characters and ideas - it woke back up the hunger, and with it the fear.

Because the truth is, I'm just scared to fail.

Then what would I dream of?

And that long-winded explanation brings me to this year's belated resolution: I will write The Guardians (the new one), without flailing back and forth to find reasons not to and without sneaky avoidance tactics. And what's more, I'll write it without coming back the next day and whining that I don't like what I've written, oh yes I will.

Because if I don't, W*P*D is going to be stuck with an empty wall where the paintings ought to be and I'll still be irritating everyone by complaining I can't do it without finding out whether I can when I'm old, grey and can't see the keyboard.

p.s. I just realised I wrote this post instead of getting on with the book. Oh the irony.

Candy Kissed

2008-12-25T01:30:00.003Z

Just a little Christmas wish for everyone I love and care about, wishing you lots of candy, mulled wine and presents under the tree - and, of course, all manner of Christmas kisses.

Thank you all for a fantastic year - the best I've had in a very long time. Excellent friends, wonderful company, good times, plenty of laughs - it's been emotional. I love you all, in a very understated British way.

xxxxxxxxx

Slutting about

2008-12-11T16:10:00.004Z

Just thought I'd share with you the lovely new blog that I shall be contributing to...

http://perplexedandthecity.blogspot.com/

Along with Anonymous Friend, I shall be slutting about for your entertainment. Aren't we good to you?

Italian Dreams - Part 1

2008-12-07T01:16:00.011Z

DaddyC being a photographer, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that he booted me off the cruise ship each morning, blinking pitifully in the unfamiliar light of dawn, with instructions to venture forth into the Italian cities and take as many photos as possible. I obeyed, of course, because that is what one does in the face of parental instruction, and thus earned a reputation as tour group liability, generally to be found trotting along at least 50 yards behind everyone else, relying on my brother's impressive height to help us see over buildings and find them again.

So far, I have only processed and uploaded photos from the first two days of our cruise and, in doing so, have filled up a Flickr account. Apparently you can only have 200 pictures unless you want to pay out to go pro (which I don't), so I shall think laterally and make a second account for the rest.

You'll notice I'm skipping over the fact that I took 200 photos in two days. Before anyone panics and pastes on the fixed smile, this is the bulk of them - DaddyC ventured off the boat with us for the latter part of the week, so I handed over documenting duties to him.

I actually joined the cruise on the second day, having thrown a hissy fit at the idea of missing out on Eddie Izzard and a night out with Laura and W*P*D (which actually included Danni, too, as a welcome surprise). I bought a tshirt that says "Cake or Death?"; people will think I've gone a bit peculiar, but who am I to argue?

As an aside, because I'm sure at least some of you were wondering, here are the evening's official Laura Leandros Memorable Quotes:

Are there small people hanging off my face?
Am I the skanky goo pigeon?
I can't imagine leaving the house as a willy in the morning
I was generally dribbling about the area.

I think we finally clambered into bed, full of cheesy curly fries and chicken wontons, at about 4am, congratulating ourselves on avoiding a hangover by eating most of Tescos. The car turned up to take me to Luton airport at 9am and found a scraggly, hungover mess shivering in the snow. So that worked well, then.

All was well once I landed in Nice, of course, because as anyone who has been on a cruise ship knows, at least three quarters of the onboard space is taken up by Things To Eat. MummyC and BrotherC took me on a whistlestop tour of the ship and then it was time for the first of many, many meals. A three course one, in the posh dining room.

Shortly followed by a slice of pizza along the shopping arcade and a little visit to the 'informal' dining room upstairs, which was basically an enormous room filled with troughs of deliciousness. Even if you limit yourself to a demure spoonful of each dish that catches your eye, you still end up with an edible mountain. I do so miss that dining room.

On Day 1, my brother and I joined the organised tour to Florence and Pisa. We were the only English people, because the ship is American, so we were treated to the inevitable conversations about how politely we eat, how strangely we spell everything and how bravely we put up with all that drizzle. I think we were something of a novelty.

Follow the photos on the Flickr backwards, if you so wish, to see where the tour took us - as far as I can tell, we covered almost every landmark. Our tour guide was most impressive at herding us about the place. I need - and want - to go back and spend a little more time there, because it's impossible to take it all in at that speed, but it was a perfect introduction.

Day 2 was Rome, and quite possibly counts among the top 10 days of my life. I came back full of dreams of moving over there for a while, perhaps signing up as a tour guide and treating tourists to my uncanny ability to get myself completely lost.

I would love to do it, it's the most beautiful city I've set foot in, full of history and culture and beauty literally everwhere you look, not to mention the ridiculously attractive people. I hardly knew whether to gaze at the ancient monuments or ogle the tour guide.

This tour was as packed as the first , taking in Trevi Fountain, the Imperial Forums, the Coloseum and Vatican City, and there's plenty more I'm itching to see - so W*P*D and I have hatched a plan to go back for a long weekend and rent a villa on the outskirts, to give us time to have a more leisurely explore of the city. I'm pining to be there again.

Of course, both days were finished off with some quality MummyC time, moving from food outlet to food outlet at our leisure. These cruise ships also have their own theatre, big enough to seat 1000, so we took a slice of cake and some popcorn and settled in for a magic show on the first night and an ice show on the second.

Do feel free to browse my many, many photos if you're particularly bored at work. There's a little gadget on the sidebar that will take you right to them, or click here. Part 2 coming up when I've regained my sight from processing the first batch...

Born Slippy

2008-12-04T00:48:00.005Z

Apologies for the lengthy absence, I've been swanning around (sort of) sunny Italy on a cruise ship for a week. I'm still trawling through my million photos of that, so expect to be bored with holiday snaps shortly.

Meanwhile, I have my friend Leah - a roomie from our student days - staying with me and much Christmas shopping and giggling has been going on. Tomorrow we're off to see Edward Scissorhands, the stage version (had no idea there even was one until half an hour ago), after a bit of lazing about.

I was forced to leave her napping on the sofa this evening though, because I had tickets to see Slipknot and she summed up her opinion of said experience as coming runner up to the prospect of chewing off her own foot.

Now the best thing about this evening was that I got to take Scott, who is excitable about absolutely everything, to his first ever metal concert. In fact, so clueless was he that, while we were in Camden the other week, he repeatedly asked me whether various songs we heard were anything like Slipknot were going to be. Including, at one point, Girls Aloud.

Understandably, I was somewhat nervous about his reaction - growling men in masks aren't everyone's cup of tea. Being an incredible sweetheart, he volunteered to accompany me just because he knew how much I wanted to go, so I was dreading the look of horror I was sure would spread slowly over his face.

Fortunately, Scott is one of the world's limited stock of truly open-minded people and was bright eyed and headbanging just one song into MachineHead, the support band (we managed to miss Children of Bodom thanks to my tortoise bus), and declaring himself a convert. He loved the atmosphere, had a whale of a time people-watching, seemed to appreciate being cussed at between songs and perfected his metal hands after only one or two false starts. His huge grin made a fantastic gig even more fun.

The highlight for both of us, I think, was when the drummer was raised, drum kit and all, and flipped sideways and upside down in the air, drumming away as he went. Genius. You can sort of see it in the photo, but everything was a bit flashy and flamey and most of my pictures are pretty balls of light.

I can't hear a thing and my feet are killing me, but man was it worth it.

When Magic Happens

2008-11-21T15:56:00.006Z

A couple of months ago I'd never heard of Ryan Adams, much less listened to his music. W*P*D, who worships the man as muse and idol, asked if I'd like to join her in seeing him live and I, always encouraging the new and interesting, very happily agreed.

In the meantime, I listened to a few of his songs, made friends with a couple of them and, on one memorable occasion, burst into spontaneous tears at W*P*D's house on hearing "If I Am A Stranger".

So, all in all, I was expecting to enjoy the gig, the company and especially watching W*P*D's face light up in child-like joy. I was not expecting to fall in love.

Without exaggeration, it was the most incredible live performance I have ever seen. Note perfect, completely in tune, his pure voice poured out while The Cardinals produced sounds I had no idea were possible outside of a recording studio. In short, they were sublime. Song after beautiful song without ever a dip in quality - or genius, if I'm honest. And, as W*P*D pointed out, the whole room was completely still, just letting the music wash over them, and everywhere you looked there were people singing their hearts out. The man is honestly loved.

Now, W*P*D has always said that Ryan is her muse, which I understood on an objective level (she will be returning the favour on Saturday by joining me to see my own muse, Eddie Izzard) but not really an emotional one. I accepted it was a very good choice, because his music is wonderful, but I had no personal experience of the impact it can have.

"Do you get it now?" she asked me as we left, eyes sparkling.

Oh yes, I get it.

A moment of amused

2008-11-12T23:30:00.004Z

I think I have a contender for Best Paragraph Ever. This hasn't been my favourite week, so I thought to cheer myself by re-reading an old favourite: Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. During which I re-discovered potentially the most amusing piece of prose ever written (in my humble opinion).

To give you a little background, the canine in question is a hellhound that has taken on the appearance of a small, scruffy dog to fulfill the overheard pet requirements of its master, a boy who has yet to discover he is the Antichrist. Its usual form is large, terrifying and bad-tempered.

And then there were cats, thought Dog. He'd surprised the huge ginger cat from next door and had attempted to reduce it to cowering jelly by means of the usual glowing stare and deep-throated growl, which had always worked on the damned in the past. This time they earned him a whack on the nose that made his eyes water. Cats, Dog considered, were clearly a lot tougher than lost souls. He was looking forward to a further cat experiment, which he'd planned would consist of jumping around and yapping excitedly at it. It was a long shot, but it might just work.

Pixel Glory

2008-11-09T23:50:00.003Z

I'm not sure from whom the challenge originated, but the Second Life blog feeds are currently filled with people's attempts to make a pixel version of their true selves... and this one would be mine.

Now, first things first, I should point out that this is one fecking hard challenge. The sliders just don't go where you want them to go, and when they do one has a tendency to end up looking like a special. My real nose, for example, tilts downwards, but if you copy the proportions in SL you end up looking like you've got your nose stuck up against the window while dribbling and (probably) scratching your arse.

So this is as close as I could get her. The hair isn't bad - severe centre parting (it does it all by itself, that's not a life choice), straggly bits and a touch floofy at the top. The eyes, by our very own lovely Laura, aren't far off either.

The dress, of course, is by Canimal, who is therefore responsible for my decision to purchase both the pixel dress and its real life counterpart. It seemed only fitting.

I'm not convinced she looks an awful lot like me, but frankly any longer playing with the sliders and I'll lose what marbles I have left to me and WillowZ will stab me for repeatedly asking her what she thinks.

So what do you lot think?

EDIT: Edited to capture forever this comment from Shelly on Plurk, which I can't stop giggling at -

Shelly: pretty close pretty close! And the nose doesn't look shortbus yay!

The Cani Invasion: Various Celebrations

2008-11-03T22:15:00.007Z

I've been faintly remiss with reporting all the yummy fun Cani and I have been having since she arrived, but I do at least have a wealth of photos to show off our weekend of sensible cultural activities.

In amongst the trips to Camden and a Little Big Planet preview thinger we went to see (I cannot tell you how much I want a PS3 now), it was, of course, Halloween.

As England are a bit pants at celebrating Halloween - unless you're a child or sufficiently terrifying that you can go trick or treating and people will be too scared to withhold sweeties - we went to a funfair in Crystal Palace.
Fully attired for the occasion, of course, in our gothic finest. I even dyed my hair in celebration, and then spent some considerable time cleaning up the evidence from the bathroom. All the trips to Camden came in handy though, as I had the perfect dress and thigh-high socks and Cani was a striped and corseted wonder.

Most of us came away from the place with significant injuries (I'm still limping now thanks to an overexcited and badly brought up small child on the dodgems who seemed intent on bashing us into the next county and poor Best Mate was assaulted from all sides and hopped about for days) but it was an effing good laugh nonetheless.

I even cajoled dear Best Mate into providing one of her gorgeous hair extravaganzas to complete my outfit. It fell down thanks to a combination of g-force and head wibbling, but it was so purty while it lasted. The pink trident with picture of unicorn in this picture did not actually belong to Matt, it was a prize Cani won at a sideshow. He seemed to like it though, and who are we to deny the man his pleasures.
I'm pretty sure you're meant to be afraid of Dracula, rather than intrigued by his crotch, but seeing as Anton allowed me to smear eyeliner across his face and didn't complain when I poked him in the eye, we'll focus on the purtiness of Best Mate's dress, shall we?
The Twister: do not approach if you have recently eaten or have a short skirt on. I am assured it was not the case, but remain convinced that the world and his spaniel saw my undercrackers.

We do Bonfire Night in rather more spectacular style over here, of course, and I couldn't let Cani go home without throwing a penny for the guy. Fortunately, Richmond's festivities were a couple of days early, and it wasn't even raining for once.Fireworks to a James Bond soundtrack while surrounded by small squeaking children - and, if you're Cani, wearing black bunny ears that flash red. Devil bunny ears, if you will. It was an unusual experience.
Richmond did me proud though, bless it, and we even spotted the guy being carted off across the pitch, though we were a bit late to see the bugger burn.
And a toffee apple, to make the whole thing complete. You can't have a bonfire night without a toffee apple, it's illegal. Or bunny ears, dems the new rules.

The Cani Invasion: Quote of the Day

2008-10-30T16:26:00.006Z

If you're in England, you might well be watching the new E4 series for Halloween, Dead Set. If not, I don't recommend you panic because it's pretty much just "28 Davina Mcalls Later" with all the standard plotlines and incidents one expects from zombies. Complete with zombie-in-the-safehouse, run-for-supplies and first-meeting-with-zombies moments. All boxes checked, then.

Maybe I've been spoiled by World War Z, but I do wish they'd be a bit more imaginative if they really must make more zombie stories.

Anyway, that's beside the point - what I really wanted to do was share a Canimal quote that creased me up with laughter during last night's episode.

One of the characters, the Big Brother TV producer who's a complete twat and highly unpleasant to the woman he's trapped in a room with, was having, to put it delicately, a bit of a poo in a bin.

Cani: Well you can't really blame him, I'd need to go if I was that scared.
Me: I think actually it had more to do with the three tubes of Pringles and bottle of champagne he had in the last episode.

*brief pause*

Cani: That doesn't sound like Pringles.

Canimal Zephyr, Defecation Expert. Who knew?

Fight like the star you are

2008-10-29T19:16:00.007Z

I am typing this from under six blankets, wearing gloves and a hat and fluffy slippers and shivering while my nose runs. Yes, I have succumbed to the weather and am sick as a dog - which I mainly blame on being out in Camden when the snow hit last night. It was, however, totally worth it.

Best Mate and I went to see Fightstar at Proud Camden, which is a fantastic little gig venue stroke art gallery in a converted stable, so the fairy lights and stone floor are set off by the bar, seating areas and merchandise room being each in their own individual stable. Hard to explain, fantastic to wander around in.

Now, I know most people can't quite get past the idea of Charlie from Busted being capable of making legitimate music, but I assure you he can - and he looks ever so pretty while doing it. They even go quite far into growling metal territory and do so surprisingly well. Don't believe me? Give it a go...

It was also fantastic for eye candy - lots of boys in eyeliner for my viewing pleasure. As it was very loud and I couldn't hear a thing, I suggested to Best Mate that I write a text saying "You're the hottest guy in here" and show it to one particular yummy specimen. She perfected the line by suggesting I say to him, "I wanted to text you this, but I didn't have your number".

Best chat-up line ever? I'm thinking so. I chickened out, of course, but maybe I could try it on Charlie...

Happiest Day of the Week

2008-10-25T18:38:00.002+01:00

Seriously. You should have seen me beam with pride. Could have done with a bit of a grammar check, but who's complaining?

Now to teach the world when to use "which" and "that".

The Cani Invasion: Day 2 (ish)

2008-10-21T17:39:00.007+01:00

Pictorial evidence of drunken behaviour - always the most positive way to commit a good evening to memory. On Cani's second day here in Londinium Town, Loaf and Willis joined us for an evening of alcohol and far too much food, packed tight in my miniature flat with glasses of vodka and (once Willis arrived) champagne.

There are plenty of pictures with which to bore you because Cani and I were enthusiastic subjects (unlike poor Loaf and Willis, who very patiently wielded the camera and were thrust in front of it while we insisted on endless angles and poses for everyone).

Still, nothing wrong with a good set of shots, eh? Our day of drinking began suitably early, with a vodka and coke thrust towards Loaf the second he walked through the door, our glasses refreshed constantly as we watched silly movies (Doom might be daft, but Karl Urban needs to give me babies), administered to our hair (that would be Cani's dye-and-straighten extravaganza) and ate muffins and Rolo doughnuts (best invention ever? I'm thinking so).

At some point we wandered into Second Life for a discussion about the relative merits of skins and eyes, as you do, and spent some time shouting drunkenly at Thema and Autumn (and others, but my memory is a little fuzzy).

Eventually Willis arrived, and had to be fetched from the station. Nobody fell over on the way, not even Loaf. Absolutely not, no stumbling at all.

We headed - after a phenomenal amount of fussing and photo-taking, into Kingston, the idea being that we show our faces in Oceana, a huge club I've never actually been to but boasts a French parlour room, a New Orleans lounge and lots of other swanky bits and pieces that I took to imply sofas to collapse on and more alcohol.

Our plans were very slightly scuppered, however, when I tottered off to the bathrooms, managed to slip on a wet patch (I'm trying to avoid guessing what it was, if that's all the same to you) and knocked myself out on the way down. At least a thousand people woke me up asking if I was alright, to which I replied a thousand times that I was absolutely fine and staggered to my feet. Promptly passing out again for a little nap on the floor. The lengths I'll go to to nan are obscene.

So that was that, sadly - no clubbing for us, just a gentle bus ride home supported by Loaf, who may very well be the loveliest man on the planet and deserves yet another medal (thank you Loaf!). I was fine, you'll all be very relieved to hear, but a little woozy and sporting a cute little bump on my forehead (still bloody hurts).

So, like the fashionable set we are, we ended the night with The Devil Wears Prada in our jim jams. What better way?

The Canimal Invasion: Day 1

2008-10-17T23:32:00.007+01:00

As many of you already know, I am blessed with the company of a Canimal for the next couple of weeks, which is certain to result in plenty of mayhem and an awful lot of shopping. It did last time, at any rate, and a repeat performance is no bad thing. Fewer cartoon bollocks this time though, I'm hoping.

Within half an hour of arriving (dragging behind her the most impressively voluminous suitcase ever engineered by the hand of man), she was scampering around my flat with a pig shower cap on her head and plying me with jewellery-based goodies straight from Paris. Which I shall, of course, make sure everyone is aware of when I wear it. It's from Paris. Paris, that's right. Huge rings, red and black, metallics - apparently she's perfected the art of styling me in real life as well as Second.

After a nice long nap (and you call ME a nan) during which I pondered whether to hang things from her, just as we would any of us do if she went afk (I didn't, because my self control knows no bounds), we went for a drink and a chat and a chicken salad in the pub. Fascinating picture, I know, but here for the sake of documentary evidence.

Now it's movie hour, and she's all curled up warm, comfortable, fed and watered on the sofa, so my mothering instincts are satisfied and I can finally stop fussing and fetching. Early night, you see, in anticipation of tomorrow's extravaganza with Loaf and Willis, for which I intend us to need all our energy.

She's threatening to wear the pig hat. Heaven help us.

Public Service Whine

2008-10-11T18:45:00.003+01:00

Today was supposed to be the sacred, long-awaited day of joy and excitement on which I purchased my new iPhone, ridding myself for good of EVIL T Mobile and the complete lack of signal I get even at home - which, incidentally, is 3/4 of the way up one of the bigger hills to grace the capital city. If this is a signal black spot, where the hell are the white ones? Speaking on the phone involves hanging out of the window, just like it did in the 90s.

Just to complement this, I've never had a phone break on me before I signed up with these Beelzebubs, but I managed to flip the top off the flip-top they palmed off on me, and the one I have now, the Samsung U600, gives me very special feelings of hatred. At first it made its ill temper known by going a bit peculiar when I texted and switching itself off when it felt like it, so that sometimes it would take me half an hour to send one measly text. Not all the time, just when it felt like it.

I got a bit rageful with its wilful behaviour during Doctor Who, while desperately trying to ask a friend with inside info what was going to happen, and threw it against a wall. This did not, to clarify, solve the problem.

Though that's not what broke it, oh no. It threw a strop about lord only knows what while I was innocently bobbing about in a club with Laura and switched itself off for good. They replaced it, with the same model, but even though this one behaves itself, it still gives me special feelings.

Since the summer I've been pining after an iPhone, not least for its GPS facility, which, with a bit of luck, will prevent me from trotting off in the wrong direction quite so often. And to have lightsaber duels with Tim, of course. And to replace my cumbersome, ancient iPod, which these days qualifies as an antique. And finally because it's quite the most crush-worthy electrical object I've seen in a good long time.

But I've been cheated out of my iPhone for another month, thanks to the evil bastards at T Mobile, who lied about when my contract was up. Displeased doesn't even begin to describe it - T Mobile, I curse thee!

Norence Frightingale

2008-10-10T15:43:00.003+01:00

We're booked and ready to go! During a perfectly selfless trip to W*P*D's on Wednesday (that's such a fib, but we'll go with it) to administer comfort food and sick-bed companionship, we successfully booked our flights and hotel for February's American extravaganza.

It came about quite by accident: W*P*D mentioned in a blog post that she wanted to go back to New York, I squeaked that I would give my right kidney to join her and from there it speedily spiralled into a coast-to-coast trip taking in Los Angeles and Las Vegas, where I had been promising for about a year to take myself to visit Vici and Ther.

We've managed to get flights there and back for a ridiculously cheap £350 each, and we've even secured seats at the back so I can do small child googly eyes out the window and W*P*D can shuffle back and forth to the toilets whenever she wishes.

We've also booked a hotel right in the centre of NYC, apparently very close to Madison Square Gardens and within easy distance of everything from the Empire State Building to the Met. Fortunately for me, W*P*D is an old hand at the NYC thing, so I will be trotting around after her still making my small child big eyes.

After five nights there, we fly over to LA, where we will be staying with Vici and Ther and, at some point, with Lisa Marie Presley's private chef. Which is just cool. We'll be spending the weekend in a cosy lodge in Big Bear and, apparently, skiing, which, as it may well result in me breaking everyone's bones, isn't likely to increase my popularity levels.

And then we drive to Vegas (I have insisted we stop at a proper diner and have fries and a slice of pie, and I want a matronly waitress to ask me if I want a coffee refill, like they do in the movies) for another five nights, where we will be trusting Vici to show us a good time... somehow I think my hangover will still be lingering in April.

Mostly I want to see all the places, do all the things and eat all the food you see in the movies, from shopping on Rodeo Drive to tucking into mac and cheese. I want to completely revamp my wardrobe, go to cool indie concerts and swanky restaurants, shout for taxis, visit massive casinos and museums, scream on rollercoasters and go googly eyed yet again as we wander round the movie studios.

In other words, I am going to be a small, excited child for the duration and will probably need to be put on a leash.

Bus Addendum

2008-10-05T23:27:00.002+01:00

When I tell people I have absolutely no interest in having children, ever, for any reason, they occasionally give me a look I have come to recognise should be interpreted as meaning: "Ah, now, you'll change your mind when the right man comes along".

My decision was given new strength on the bus home today, however, when a small boy in a pushchair took a liking to me.

He was happily playing peek-a-boo with me, giggling away as he grabbed my trousers and tried to copy my crossed eyes. He was a cheeky chappy and highly appreciative as I went through my repertoire of baby-amusing techniques.

Having run out of new ideas, I got bored and stared out of the window.

It cried.

She's going as fast as she can

2008-10-05T22:33:00.009+01:00

A weekend with Best Mate (and Best Mate's Fiance) is never an ordinary affair, nor would I wish it to be. Thus I present a picture-based diary of the last couple of days, complete with quotes, anecdotes and discussion points for the keenly interested.

During the initial phase of 'becoming inebriated', Anton and I decided to spy on the neighbours out of the bedroom window, soon realising that, rather than hiding our actions from potential tattle-tales, we were illuminating ourselves for all to see with an exciting lit-window-based framing device. Cue even cunninger plan to hide our shame with a curtain, thus transforming ourselves into a pantomime curtain beast.

After which sparkling success, Best Mate blew our minds with a stunningly convincing impression of Plato at the local rave. It was beautiful, man.

Shortly after which we perfected our joint impression of a Push-Me-Pull-You.

Then the conversation turned to Wicked, which we have been planning to go and see together since, oh, I think January, when Best Mate began reading the book version and promised faithfully to finish as fast as she possibly could so we could see it.

Now, the relative reading speeds of Best Mate and myself are infamous. I read like Johnny Five from Short Circuit, while Best Mate (thanks to her brain rebelling against enforced reading at university) goes at a sedate, steady, nan-like pace. One evening, for example, while reading in tandem, I completed 63 pages of my book to her 13.

Me: Have you finished Wicked yet?
Best Mate shakes her head and looks shifty
Me: Oh my GOD but you promised you'd hurry! How can y....... you are hurrying, aren't you?

And finally I bought a fluffy coat that matched Best Mate's fluffy coat and we did snuggly hug poses for a while before launching me off on my most badly executed weekend travelling mission thus far. It's a miracle I'm home, let me tell you. Let me also tell you that bus drivers lie and should not be trusted to know their own routes.

HymenKnee

2008-09-27T14:02:00.005+01:00

There's nothing so satisfying as an evening with a bunch of fellow nutcases who share your penchant for the weird and hilarious. Things generally start out sensibly, in this case with a shopping spree to take our minds off the all-too-purty marionette avatars they're selling for an annoying 4k each over at The Abyss (and, of course, we wanted at least two).

But then they took a turn for the bizarre, and hence was born a fantabulous (sort of) new Second Life girl group, by the name HymenKnee (say it quickly and, extraneous body parts aside, all will become clear).

Starring my dear sister, Willowzee, as N'Elle Luv, who will be giving it 'tood with her own brand of gangsta mutterings (she's very convincing).

Arbel Vogel as MC Fresh, who will be bringing the kickin beats and somehow managing to look absolutely adorable in her ridiculous trousers.

Autumn Hykova as Limelight Soul, the soulful heart of the band and the one whose job it is to do those ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo bits.

Myself as LatoyaK, the grumpy one who strops a lot and goes WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH like in the Bodyform advert.

By the time I stumbled off to bed, we'd made plans to go on tour with a drunkenly recorded choon, complete with a prim tour bus, some burly roadies with large crotches and some uber-fans to sigh in wonder every time we draw breath.

I'm not convinced we'll top the charts, as our last attempt to sing in SL dissolved into helpless giggling fits while Willowzee valiantly tried to hold the tune. But surely nobody else could attack the virtual gigging circuit with quite this level of panache and style?

The Great To Do List

2008-09-18T20:30:00.005+01:00

I've been feeling agitated for a week or so, not quite sure what I want to be doing with myself or - more to the point - what I ought to be doing. I was pretty convinced there was plenty on that list, but I couldn't figure out exactly what or where to start.

This evening I've figured out that, because I've been out and about and generally enjoying the company of the best people I know over the past couple of months, wandering off on weekend jaunts and getting merry in as many situations as possible, I've been letting a fair few things slide.

Not long ago I was proud of my creative output and of being generally on top of things - but not any more, and I suspect much of that pride was based on an illusion. I currently have so many things in the process of being done, watched, read, written and learned that I've reached saturation point - and as for the 'doing' part, that's been sadly lacking.

I have so many box sets with two or three episodes left to watch, so many skills I've started to learn and never completed, so many games I've not made it to the end of - the list is endless. I'm behind on that evil place known as Facebook, my inbox is spilling over, I still haven't done the next assignment on my course - I haven't even managed to find a dentist yet, for shame. Ridiculous as it sounds, even the fact I've not made it to level 50 on LOTRO is bothering me.

Having such a terrifying list of things that need doing has been unconsciously pulling me back from taking on the new, though I only realise that now. I've not been able to find the time to comment, or even read, all the blog posts in my Reader, I've gone silent on Plurk and I haven't browsed Flickr in an absolute age. I even feel a pang of guilt responding to a new email, because I know I should already have replied to so many others.

So I think a little clear-up is called for, and from today on I've made a little personal pledge to work on at least one item on that list every day, thus freeing up my time to progress. Tonight, for example, I will do that damn assignment, and I will clear my pc desktop (hence the finally completed picture at the top, which has been waiting to be attended to for a month) and venture onto Facebook. I might even go and prod things with spears on LOTRO.

It's a rounding up, if you will, of everything swimming around in my head. If only these things could be solved with a dustpan and brush.

Sex and Our City

2008-09-16T16:47:00.005+01:00

I don't wear dark lipstick, for one simple reason - it makes my lips look pursed and thin, which in turn makes me appear even more cranky than I usually do.
However, there was no harm, I felt, in checking this theory with the experts, so along with Best Mate, during our fashionable day of SATC-style city wanderings, I implored a hot and sexy makeover artist at the Mac counter in Selfridges to make me look just like her.

Which she did her utmost to achieve, as you can see, and I wore the results proudly - all the way back across London at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. And let me tell you, nobody messed. Although I did get a lovely compliment from a woman on the escalator, which is unusual in this coldhearted city.

The day started with a VIP trip to FacShion, which Best Mate was covering for myVillage.com and asked me along to as her +1. Terrified all week, we were, that whatever we chose to wear was going to look like a nan in an anorak compared to the trendy beauties stalking around. I shouldn't have worried though - whatever she puts on, she manages to make look achingly cool, so all I really had to do was stand as close to her as I could.

We chinwagged with designers, nodded sagely at the catwalk show and said an awful lot of "Oh my GOD I *need* that"s at the stalls - Best Mate's fabulous pictures and account are over: here.
We then strolled around Spitalfields and the amazing shops nearby, doing much the same thing at every shop window, before heading over to Oxford Street for some fashion-related errands involving style materials for Best Mate's latest project (while I prodded bits of sewing machine and looked generally blank).

And the day ended with this makeover in Selfridges, which saw me through a hectic night of trip planning and dancing with the wonderful Lorna and which I shall be attempting, any minute, to recreate for my evening out tonight... this may go horribly wrong...

One pissed off prince

2008-09-09T22:51:00.005+01:00

Tim, Yaz and I almost didn't go to a creative writing class this evening, but thanks to everyone else's memories being better than mine, we got there in the end. I'm not sure what I was expecting from it, but it wasn't to be asked, within minutes of plonking down, to get on and write something. Anything, apparently.

We swapped worried looks and got on with it, and then all three of us were brave enough to read out what we'd written to the class. Tim's was a pretty darned fab description of a new ice age (he nearly decided to write his own obituary and set me off into a giggling fit when postulating the line, "He died as he lived: in a hovercraft") and Yaz retold the story of Goldilocks with much more personality - she was pleased to see the porridge, in this version, because of its slow-release carbs.

I was quite proud of my own nonsense - so I thought I would share the unpolished, ridiculous result. I think I might have been channelling IDV as I wrote it. Enjoy! I think...

Lilypads aren't what everyone would class as superior garden furniture, I know, but you learn to work with what you have. Actually it was cosier than you'd have thought, spreading my gnarled little toes across one lilypad each, froggy bottom dangling in the water. Like skiing, only with less of a slope.

And if you're going to get turned into a frog, there are worse places to sit and croak than the royal garden, with all its ridiculous fripperies - I'd recommend it if species swaperoo is your cup of pond murk. So there I sat, testing my balance and feeling a little smug, when SHE appeared, wafting along the garden path like a stick of candyfloss with purpose.

Which purpose, it seemed, was to be as dreamy and wafty and candyflossy as possible in the hope some half-brained noble would find the whole thing enchanting. I once had myself, when I was still strutting about in tights and codpiece, but when you're a frog you get plenty of time for reflection.

Mostly regarding the optimum lilypad position for successful fly-catching, but the simpler things do often bring a sense of perspective. I watched as the dozy bint rolled a golden ball in my direction and looked at me expectantly. It plopped in the pond, flicking a drop of water directly in my eye.

She smiled. I scowled. Though, being a frog, I don't think it conveyed awfully well.

"Well go on then," she said, a little testily. I wasn't done scowling.

This princess wasn't big on patience, for no sooner had I stretched out a leg to make a show of wriggling a defiant toe than she'd grabbed me in her rabid little hands and was digging her nails into my poor bulbous sides. Her lips loomed as she planted a kiss square on my froggy face and - poof! - I was a human again.

Moments passed, moments in which I found enough dignity to maintain my scowl, even knee deep in pond weed without a sock to my name.

"Minky," I said, punctuating my displeasure by coughing up a mosquito.

"Yes, sweetie?" she replied, her face lighting up.

"Must we go through this every time?"

She pouted as I picked up my poor lilypads, now a little squished, and placed one in front and one behind as I heaved a theatrical sigh. The lengths you have to go to these days, I thought wistfully, to hide from a girl once you've dumped her.

Shoes, pharaohs, tea and graves

2008-09-04T19:29:00.007+01:00

Last Saturday marked the third of the Plurk meetups, and was probably the drunkest one yet - at least for Laura and I, who started tippling at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and were still going 12 hours later.

Which, of course, meant we were terribly late to meet Loaf, Roxette and Johan (it's just rude to leave a vodka half-done) and were of absolutely no help in putting together the picnic in Tesco, mostly because we were more interested in chasing Rox around the aisles and finding the Bacardi Breezers. How we didn't get thrown out for hooliganism I shall never know.

Which sentiment carried us right through the evening. We had a lovely picnic, thankfully rescued by Loaf's cunning provision of a blanket and the more sensible shopping habits of everyone else (I think we ended up with 80 miniature sausages, mind you), tried not to steal rainbow socks from a tramp, annoyed the pub whose loo we kept staggering into and screeched a lot.

At one point Laura asked me a perfectly sane question about, as I recall, which pub we were planning to go to, at which I turned round and repeated, very earnestly, the last three words I'd said to Loaf, which were something like "and the cat". Which made no sense, was of no help and made me laugh so hard I dribbled.

We then went to The Lot, now accompanied by Danni (hurrah!), a student pub where the toilets are at the top of the most viciously steep staircase I've ever seen - and yes, we fell up them repeatedly.

Much rose wine was flung around the place, I managed to break my glow-in-the-dark bracelet and infect myself with radioactive liquid and Laura began a series of bag checks that was to continue all night long. It went something like this: "Cardigan (which later for no apparent reason changed to 'tights' even though it wasn't), wallet, wipes and phone. OK I've checked I have everything, now what I would like to do is check that I've got everything."

The more sensible members of the group at this point headed off to catch their various public transports, amid much hugging and genuine sorrow (I believe I actually begged Rox and Loaf to stay at one point, for shame). Meanwhile, Laura and I decided it would be a fantastic plan to talk like toffs all the way to the club ("oh BLOODY hell yes, I don't half think SO").

Once at the club, having queued up by basically propping one another up and grinning like lunatics, Laura managed to bottle an innocent dancing woman, I attracted the attention of a weirdo in a loud shirt who wanted to tell me I was doing well (gee thanks) and we danced for hours, clutching Smirnoff Ices.

You know that one guy in every club who's such a fantastic, flamboyant dancer that everyone half-watches him and backs away to give him space? He's always gorgeous and he's always dripping with inner confidence and charm and really enjoying himself, not giving a monkeys what everyone else thinks. Well, the one in this club decided he wanted to dance with me, and proceeded to fling and spin me round what wasn't really part of the dancefloor.

Now, I can't say I minded this, because fortunately he had strong hands and was good at guiding my drunken self in rather more elegant ways than I was managing for myself. In fact, I was somewhat euphoric as he twirled and shimmied me around, until a salsa came on and I was almost sick on his shoes.

We lurched out of the club and had a little sit on the doorstep, where a bouncer told Laura off for talking too loudly about making a nice cup of tea, and I went into the shop to get some water and was asked to confirm for some bloke that his friend had a head like a bell-end.

Which is where the guys we'd met inside found us, and spent some considerable time trying to convince us to go back to theirs for piri piri chicken (at which I believe Laura's response was "piriwhatsit what? but we've got a CHEESECAKE") before giving in and escorting us home. Barefoot, in Laura's case, while checking her belongings every 25 seconds. Note: she had them all.

Once home, I made a cup of tea that Laura denied she knew about... while drinking it. And I brought her a slice of cheesecake, which she threw at the poor man's crotch and then shouted "I can't eat that now, it's COCK CAKE".

At around 5am the most classic drunken sentence of all time was uttered, one that sends me into fits of giggles every single time I think about it. Laura looked at me, perfectly serenely, and said:

"I will stay with you forever, but only if you will supply me with shoes, pharaohs, tea and graves."

A prize for the person who works out what the hell she meant, because we really don't know.

My god did we feel rough the next day, but we still managed to make it round the Tutenkhamun exhibition with Ollie without vomiting on any ancient artifacts, which would have been a bit rude. Which spawned another classic from Laura, upon spotting one of a reported 25 model boats found in the tomb:

"25? Who kept putting them in?? Surely it would have been better to have one boat, and a boat repair kit. Voila."

All in all, a weekend I won't be forgetting in a hurry! Thanks to Johan for the pics, but not to Laura for refusing to feature in any of them :P

Bookings

2008-08-27T00:18:00.003+01:00

I just stole this from the lovely Bettye Dugan's blog... I believe she stole it first, so it's more of a re-steal...

Look at the list and bold those we have read.
Italicize those we intend to read.
Underline the books we LOVE

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan - this one is my favourite book of all time
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo (abriged)

Now, I know this makes me look ridiculously well read, what with there only being 13 on there I've yet to flick through and a startling percentage of them being among my favourites, but hell, that's why one picks carefully the memes one does, right?

It should probably be pointed out, too, that I set myself the challenge of reading the BBC Big Read's Top 100 books a couple of years ago - just ask Tim how many hours I spent grumbling at The Magus, what a load of old bollocks that one is - and a lot of these were on the list.

And, of course, there is the fact that I am ridiculously well read. It comes of being very, very dull and having a mother who force fed me Thomas Hardy at the age of 8. To this day I couldn't tell you what was so obscure about Jude.

Hell on Toast

2008-08-21T01:23:00.003+01:00

No sooner do I make the foolish claim that any trip to the cinema is capable of holding my rapt attention and giving me that special movie feeling, I get proved wrong. Tim, Yaz and I went to see Hellboy II this evening and, though I didn't hate it, I certainly didn't love it as much as I wanted to.

I adored the first movie, and the director of this one is the same guy who made Pan's Labyrinth, one of my all-time favourites, so I was convinced it would be an immediate hit. How could it possibly go wrong, combining excellent characters with the powerful imagination of Guillermo del Toro?

But I couldn't shake the feeling that someone had given the man a big pile of money and a checklist of Things That Must Go In This Movie and told him that, as long as he ticked every box, he could do whatever the hell he liked.

Not seeming to be a natural superhero movie director, I don't think del Toro has any vested interest in the fame and fortune of our hero, and that really showed - important pieces of character development were skipped over in single sentences, the humour was lame and cheesy and there were far too few emotional hooks. The Dark Knight this was not.

Instead we were treated to the unbridled imagination of a true visionary, something I would normally have been thrilled to watch - but I didn't go there to watch a fairytale, I went to watch Hellboy.

The creatures del Toro dreamed up were fantastical, weird, wonderful, beautiful, awesome - all the good words. You'd have thought that, having combined a similar sort of imaginary world with the painfully stark tale of a little girl caught in the middle of a war, he would find it child's play to balance the character-driven part of the story with the big visual thrills.

Not so, at least not to me. You know when the sound levels on a programme are all rickety and badly balanced, so you can hear that people are talking, but they're so muffled by the music and effects that you've no clue what they're saying? This movie had the same effect. Hellboy was an aside in his own movie, brushed over for the sake of the glorious menagerie.

It picks up in the second half - especially humour-wise - but by then it was all a bit too late. I wanted to see into Hellboy's soul with glimpses of his love for Liz and his relationships with the other characters, but none of that interested del Toro. Even the fight scenes felt ever so slightly as if he didn't really want to do them. There was a visible contrast between the things his heart was in, and the things his heart was not.

But I will still be waiting excitedly for the next Hellboy, should there be one, as my faith has not been shaken in this franchise. And as for Guillermo del Toro, I will be praying someone hands him just the stack of cash next time, so we can clamber back into his world without that checklist getting in the way.

A Very Odd Journey

2008-08-20T00:06:00.003+01:00

My journey home from work today (which, incidentally, this week is taking place at Hotcourses in Hammersmith) was a rather peculiar one.

I've been a little tired from lots of late nights, partly because the first installment of the book I've been writing is due on Wednesday and - of course - I'm not ready to hand it over. Also thanks to a particularly bad hangover (that Loaf, he forces you to drink wine at gunpoint, you know) and a trip home to see the parentals, and other things besides.

Working at Hotcourses, just to veer off track, is a giggle because it's also the stomping ground of the beauteous Yaz, who has been mostly launching bits of rolled up paper at me. I have also been introduced to the infamous, intriguing Secret Starbucks (often mentioned: here) - a place she and Tim frequent that could barely be situated closer to the absolute centre of town, but is somehow completely hidden from public view and always has free tables. I am one of the cool kids now, with a pass to the secret den. IDV will seethe with jealousy.

So anyway, back to the journey. Because of all this tiredness I decided to have a little nap, with my headphones on. Unfortunately I couldn't relax because a little old lady opposite me kept glancing up at me in what seemed a terribly disapproving manner.

Assuming she was narked by the volume of my music, I thoughtfully turned it down. Repeatedly. Until I couldn't hear it myself and was tutting inwardly at the fuss she was clearly making about nothing.

But when I stood up to leave the train and happened to glance down at said little old lady, I had a bit of a shock - all that time she had actually been doing the most amazing sketch of me on a little piece of paper.

Now I know from paying attention to Lessons With Lorna that artists pick their subjects for the horns, wrinkles and nobbles, but we'll just let that bit go, shall we?

The needs of the many

2008-08-17T19:35:00.008+01:00

"You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

Tenuous quote, right sentiment. Sorry for the cryptic post, this won't take long.

Sometimes you have so much respect for people that the only thing you can do is what they need you to do. For now I will be, I believe the phrase goes, 'hiding in plain sight'.

To learn a thing or two

2008-08-13T01:01:00.006+01:00

I got a telling off earlier from Tim for neglecting my blog over the past week, so here I am, chastised and typing despite the ridiculous hour.

I would have shared a few random thoughts with you earlier, only I was busy enjoying the anger and common sense of Henry Rollins, punk icon and thinker, at the O2. I didn't really know an awful lot about him pre-this evening, but I was up for something new, as always, and I can never resist good comedy.

It was so much more than a bit of a laugh, though, and had an impact I wasn't prepared for. Rollins is shockingly well-travelled and well-read, clued up about the political and social climates of half the world's countries and not afraid to speak his mind and, in his words, make it his daily business to "stick it to the man".

He told tales of his travels, interviewing and filming to expose the lot of the less fortunate. He spoke of the killing fields he visited in Vietnam, with bits of tooth and bone still sticking out of the ground, and the clinic he visited in South Africa, where doctors work 16 hour days to keep mothers with HIV alive long enough to bring their children up.

He talked for hours, until my backside was well and truly numb and my mind was dancing with information. I was humbled at my own ignorance and have made a pact with myself to pay more attention to world affairs from now on (any is more than none, right?).

Furthermore, I've been toying with the idea for a while of getting involved in a cause I feel passionate about - my skills might be somewhat limited to stringing together sentences and then checking they make grammatical sense, but who's to say that wouldn't come in handy somewhere, somehow? I was thinking of offering my services to a local political party, but now I'm wondering if there might not be a few worthier causes to dedicate time to.

Life has been treating me well recently - so well that I've been waiting for the punchline. Perhaps it's time to give a little bit back.

Newshound

2008-08-04T18:46:00.003+01:00

I've been all around the bloody houses today - quite literally, at one point, when Google maps had me off traversing a council estate that didn't exist. And then sent me in a big loop in completely the wrong direction until a local chav took pity and turned me back round. All of this out in Cheam, a stupid place that took me almost two hours to commute to, though in total I travelled a paltry 9.7 miles. For shame!

But it was for good purpose, as I spent the morning freelancing at NewsQuest, which, for those who don't know (so, pretty much everyone not working in publishing, then), is the company that owns 300 of the local daily papers in the UK.

I was proofreading my own local paper! When this issue drops through the letterbox I am totally going to point at it and cackle maniacally. I might even do a little dance. I was also proofing news stories for Kingston, Wimbledon and various other local papers, and they even let me do the headlines. Fools, but generous, trusting fools. My favourite kind.

The best story of the day - I had to hide my chuckles from the earnest news team - was of a medal for bravery being awarded to a little old lady for her work during WWII. She protested that it really wasn't much, and the story then revealed that she was knocked over by a cow during her first week and spent a month in hospital with a broken leg.

I also got the giggles when someone called in to report a "serial urinator and defecator" who kept leaving little messages in their garden.

I've been doing a course with the London School of Journalism for a good long while now, what with one thing and another getting in the way (gold star to the person who sits me down long enough to do my next assignment), with the intention of slowly starting to infiltrate the local papers, handing in stories to be published.

Imagine my glee at being given this chance to meet the team, gather a few contacts and make my face known! My tutor will be awfully proud, assuming he remembers my name. And then I can be intrepid and Louis Lane-like, only in a very English manner - I am more likely to investigate wheely bins than wheeler dealers, frankly. Here's to living the dream.

p.s. Today's illustration of Queen Willow was brought to you by Kitty and her evol brain. Mind you, I DO look rather good in a crown, don't you think? Click here to see what spawned it.

Plurk it up

2008-07-29T23:39:00.008+01:00

Better late than never (having been away on a round trip to see the rents), I have finally stolen a few minutes to commit to memory a marvellous weekend with the Plurkers. Barely days after the original meet-up, we decided to plan another one and this time we managed to convene quite a few new faces.

I met up with Johan and Oli in the early afternoon (note to self: Johan cannot navigate the Underground unattended) before heading off to see The Dark Knight with Tim and Yaz, which turned out to be an exquisite piece of movie-making and left every single one of us speechless until the credits had rolled, the lights had gone up and a clever wit of an usher had sauntered past smugly with his face made up like the Joker's.

We then headed to Leicester Square to meet the rest of the gang, including Ten and Dakota, who I've been looking forward to meeting for ages because both of them completely crack me up, Vint, who may have to deal with me stealing her entire wardrobe, and Danillion, who is quite the cuddliest person imaginable. And, of course, the always wonderful Loaf.

As Dakota said on her blog, it wasn't long before we were all chatting like we'd known each other forever - which is hardly surprising, what with the Plurking incessantly all day and night.

After a burger and an awful lot of beer, it was back to Loaf's for some absinthe (I very kindly imposed myself on his hospitality, the poor man puts up with an awful lot from me and does it ever so graciously) and sleep - which latter indulgence we finally got round to at about 5am.

I felt grotty until Monday evening, but oh goodness me was it worth it! There were plenty of pictures taken, so you can view my shame by clicking here, here and here.

Now all that remains is to plan the next one...

Culture Vulture

2008-07-25T00:18:00.007+01:00

Does your life go through moods? I've noticed recently that I can pick any memory at random and attach a state of mind to it, one that describes a period of my life instantly.

At the moment, my overall mood is one of hope, happiness and new beginnings, and it's a wonderful, if unusual, feeling. I don't recall feeling this enthusiastic about life for at least a decade - since I was at university and making trouble with Best Mate, by my reckoning. The last memory I have of feeling this positive involves dancing with her in our favourite club, both smiling, radiant and young.

That mood is back. I'm discovering interests I didn't realise I had, finding new confidence in who I am and who I'm becoming, taking enjoyment from every single day and feeling more zest and hunger for life than I ever have before.

I'm appreciating every experience, right down to the little things. As I walked through Leicester Square to meet Lorna this evening, I realised I was smiling to see the crowds, enjoying being a part of the buzz rather than dodging the pesky tourists with a scowl and a rise in blood pressure. On the train I was jubilant, drinking in the sunshine and the scenery rather than angrily looking at my watch.

When I'm asked if I like, want, can do or am interested in something, these days I find myself saying yes with hardly a second thought, consumed by an eager willingness to expand my horizons.

Tonight we went to the National Portrait Gallery to see the BP Portrait Awards and, though I've never before felt any particular hunger to immerse myself in art, I found myself mesmerised by the paintings and loving every moment. The two here were my favourites from a mind-blowing collection.

We had drinks in the pub afterwards and I had to be incredibly strict with my time-keeping to make sure I got a good night's sleep, so much was I enjoying the conversation. Especially the part where we made plans to go on a flying tour of the US for my 30th birthday - 5 days shopping and hitting the trendy bars in NYC, a few days star-spotting in LA and then driving down to Las Vegas to let Vici show us a good time, something I've been promising to do all year. There are no words for my excitement levels.

Perhaps it's because I've just written a chapter of the book I've been commissioned called 'The Value of Now'. Perhaps it's because I'm liking the sunshine for once. Some of you have a very good idea what the other likely reason is. But, whatever the explanation, I can't seem to cram my days full enough of interesting experiences and I would willingly exist on this high for the rest of my days.

My own mistress

2008-07-22T23:15:00.005+01:00

Working from home is everyone's dream, right? Mine included - it always has been - so when I was commissioned to write this book, I almost wet myself in anticipation of a couple of months meandering about the house, tapping the occasional piece of genius into the keyboard.

It has not, thus far, turned out to be quite so idyllic as I always expected. A number of things have happened:

1) I have completely lost the ability to turn myself out of bed before 9.30am and, when I DO manage to get up at that dawn-cracking time, I feel like I haven't slept a wink. Hooded eyes, constant yawns, the whole shebang. If I allow myself to sleep 'naturally', on the other hand, you're not likely to see me before 1pm for absolutely no reason.

2) I have developed an insane compulsion to constantly check Plurk for new updates and share absolutely everything in my head with the poor souls on my contact list. I have typed considerably more words into that little window than the Word one.

3) I procrastinate to the extent that I very seldom manage more than 50 words an hour. Plus the requisite research, of course, but that's by the by.

4) I get randomly lonely, crave human company and begin to panic if I don't manage to get out of the house at least once a day. Which means I'm going out an awful lot more than usual... mostly to the cinema, as previously discussed at length.

But I really shouldn't complain - I get to lounge around in silly trousers all day with unbrushed hair and The Deftones (or MGMT these days, thanks to that pesky Lorna) at intolerably loud volumes (when Jeremy Kyle isn't on). I can keep my own times (though that's not actually a good idea) and have breaks when I want them, what's not to love?

p.s. Please excuse the usual flimsily linked title chosen for purposes of showing off this fabulous picture of me made by the delectable Kitty.

p.p.s. Here is the song that I cannot get enough of - curse you Lorna!

I'm in lust...

2008-07-19T19:56:00.005+01:00

...with the cinema. Having just come home from my third movie outing in (count 'em) eight days, this time with the lovely Loaf, it occurred to me I have something of an addiction to the cinema. Which doesn't actually surprise me - the only bit I found shocking was that I let it lie dormant for a long time and didn't often indulge - perhaps I just forgot how deep the feeling goes.

Those brave souls who have ventured to the talkies with me more than once understand I have a tendency to immediately declare when the credits roll that I've just watched the best thing in absolutely ever. Said opinion generally tones down gradually over the next hour, as the movie high wears off (except with this one, Wanted, which I have now seen twice and is totally my crack - it's movie porn, I love it), but for those first few minutes I'm high as a kite and thrilled to be alive.

It's the experience of the cinema itself that I adore. Every over-loud bang of the door, every exaggerated fall of a foot, every echoing shot of a gun sends adrenalin screaming through me. A stunning effect, a gorgeous scene, an incredible piece of acting: every perfect moment takes my breath away.

There's another reason I'm so easy to please. My life has always been about stories - reading them, writing them, watching them, playing them - and there's nothing I enjoy more than having the opportunity to utterly lose myself in one. I crave new stories, it's why I'm such an avid reader and my bedroom walls are almost literally made of books. And the cinema is the pinnacle of that feeling, the loudest, largest, most in-your-face example of storytelling there is.

My capacity to believe is so strong as to be almost childlike - and wilfully so. I think of it as a gift, one that allows me to completely enter the moment and become a part of it. A movie, for me, is an emotional rollercoaster.

So I seldom notice the flaws, at least not at the time. Things might dawn on me a little later, but not while I still have a foot in fantasy land. It takes a powerfully bad movie to prevent me from slipping into that trance and getting lost in the story - there have been a few, but I can usually find some enjoyment in what I'm watching.

Have I been profound enough to justify a third trip to see Wanted yet?

Many Many Wrong Feelings

2008-07-16T23:40:00.004+01:00

I have a new celebrity crush, I can't help myself. I was feeling slightly wrong about it all the way through Prince Caspian this evening, because his character is about 12, but fortunately I have returned home to discover that Ben Barnes is 28 and therefore well above the level of sugar mommydom.

And may I take this opportunity to say: oh what a beautiful man. I can haz one pleez? I also really do think it ought to be obligatory for attractive men to wear suits of armour from time to time. Preferably in my presence.

I don't think Tim was too impressed with the movie, but then there's just no hope for someone who doesn't see the merit in a movie starring Eddie Izzard as a defiant mouse, is there?

Worse than ever...

2008-07-15T16:57:00.004+01:00

I admit, this time, to being ashamed of myself. Apparently I've been doing so much virtual shopping recently that my inventory is in its worst ever state, now taking up six - count 'em - full windows when opened out.

And that's just the sorting folder. Which includes subfolders such as 'New', 'Current favourites' and 'Newest'. Which smacks of panic, with hindsight.

I think we all know what I'll be doing for the next year or so. Yep, that's right: making it worse. Because, as you can quite clearly see from this evidence captured by Willowzee, having all these items has turned me into a super-fashionable clothes-wearing machine. If you don't like it, well, that just proves you're not nearly as fashionable as I am, doesn't it?

Luckily...

2008-07-12T15:33:00.009+01:00

I came across Cillian Murphy on Regent Street yesterday and have realised that, despite the earlier fuss I made, he actually doesn't look a bit like Tim. My bad.

I was on Regent Street, in case you are interested, having just had a meeting with the people who would like me to pen a book for them - which enterprise seems to be coming along nicely - and, before that, to get a haircut.

I fear haircuts. So much so that I have had only 4 this decade, and the first was an unmitigated disaster of epic shortness and chunks instead of layers that made me burst into tears. I left it so long this time, however, because I have placed my trust in a stylist at Hob Salon on Baker Street, who did such a stonking job of shearing me last time that I have since refused to go anywhere else.

Which is all very well, but the pleasure of her magic hands costs £65 a pop, so once again it's been far too long. But I am thrilled to pieces with the result, it feels much lighter and I can now do that swooshy thing they do on adverts as I walk down the street.

Which is precisely what I was up to when Mr Murphy wandered past. He's shorter than I expected and didn't look very happy.

The picture of my swanky new hair came about thanks to a cunning plan to make sure I have visual evidence of what was done to it, so that next time I face Selina she won't throw up her hands in despair and tell me I've left it so long she has no idea what she did last time. Spacker that I am, I was only able to mutter something like: "Uhhhh...spiky bits". It is also for Best Mate, who is my style guru and very knowledgable about these things.

Once I reached the other end of Regent Street - stopping halfway to pick up a new hair clip that I will now place in the box with all my other hair adornments and forget about completely - I met the always wonderful Lorna and Yaz and headed for the nearest cinema to see Wanted. At which point, I might add, it rained on me and ruined my hair completely.

I won't comment on the movie itself, as I have plans to set up a movie review blog to bore you all with. The cinema, however, was a whole different kettle of cuttlefish. Two bored cashiers nearly made us late by processing the hundred metres of cinemagoers as slowly as they possibly could ("Luckily, there's not a queue," said Lorna) and then nobody told us there was another kiosk partway up the four - count 'em - escalators to our screen ("Luckily, we aren't running late," said Lorna) so we waited for a ridiculous amount of time to buy our popcorn ("Luckily, there's no queue here either," said Lorna) only to find it was £2.40 for a bottle of water. £2.40! For water! Made of what, putrified yak sweat? I really did love the movie though. And the girly time, that was marvellous. And James McAvoy, that was simply divine.

p.s. You have not quite completed your Willow reading for the day until you have nipped over to Kitty's blog by clicking here.

Everyone else is doing it...

2008-07-12T14:33:00.010+01:00

So I shall too. I lost the version that had 'Kitty' right next to 'buggery', sadly - that's what you get for faffing with buttons.

NO HALP

2008-07-10T15:30:00.004+01:00

Kitty has taken up a new hobby. This would not normally cause me bodily harm, but in this particular case, I am sorry to report that she very rudely put her own amusement over my safety.

Simboarding, which no doubt will soon be the latest craze on the grid, is a surprisingly fun version of skateboarding in which nobody breaks any limbs. However, I was not dressed for the occasion, having arrived from planning a photoshoot, yet I was forced at gunpoint (sort of) onto the board without due warning and pushed off at hectic speeds across the ramp. Thanks to which I promptly managed to turn myself upside down, thus inventing a whole new style of simboarding, and embedded myself in the floor, looking rather like a startled begonia.

Did she help me? Did she buggery, she turned into the weirdest dominatrix on the grid and stood on my feet while making unreasonable demands such as that I read the worms a bedtime story.

Moral of this tale: if Kitty tells you she's 'found something really fun to do', just say NO.

Happy Rezday to moi

2008-07-09T19:41:00.004+01:00

Today is my 4th rezday and, true to form, I've only just realised. For four years I've been traipsing around the grid, filling up my inventory, forgetting my own birthdate and generally embarrassing myself. That's impressive shopping staying power, let me tell you. And I have the scary folder system to prove it.

Four years of watching SL grow, from a wee small little community of people in system skins to the massive squiggle of creativity and big ideas it's become now. From white skins and gothic sky castle to leopard skin and Whispering Falls. Different looks, new friends - and some I wouldn't leave behind for the world. I've had the requisite number of breaks, not wanting to think about the place, but I've always come back, no matter how jaded I got.

I guess you could say that's just because it's home.

Ginger, left-handed and persecuted by Cro Magnons

2008-07-08T21:57:00.006+01:00

An interesting question was posed this evening, as I accompanied Jenni on the Tube home after our drinks. She recently (by accident, she claims) read a book that was authored by a crackpot; at first it appeared to have a solid basis in science, but soon revealed itself to be horribly written, chock full of exclamation marks and utterly nonsensical.

I'm not sure what it was called, but the premise has been making me chuckle ever since, so I thought I'd conduct a straw poll to see if the nutcase has a point.

He reckons, you see, that the Neanderthals had a high proportion of left-handed people with ginger hair, who were picked on by the Cro Magnons for being more creative than anyone else.

I have no idea how he came to this conclusion, but I doubt it will stand up for long in the face of scientific scrutiny. So let's do some scrutinising: I myself am left-handed, but I do not have red hair. I am, however, creative, in my own ever-humble opinion.

And how about you lovely lot? Would you have been safe from Cro Magnon persecution?

Talking of crackpot authors, I've been asked to write a psychology book - a little, inspirational, coffee-table one. For those of you not au fait with my cv (you really are missing out), psychology was the topic of my postgraduate degree, so I am, as you might guess, a little bit chuffed and excited.

Anyway, back to prehistoric man...

Downward spiral

2008-07-06T19:52:00.007+01:00

This has been an utterly dull weekend, which I blame on my aching sinuses, lack of cash and inability to leave the house when it rains.

It was improved by an impeccable, majestic, epic ending to this series of Doctor Who (Tim: shup) but swiftly ruined by a foolish decision to watch Wicker Man. Which is possibly the most ridiculous excuse for a movie I've ever sat through, and why I didn't wander off and do the washing up instead is a mystery to me. I am now faffing about trying to gather the concentration to write more of my book, but someone is frying onions and the smell is awfully distracting.

Annoyingly, this was one of those weeks that started very well and then tailed off, culminating in a downward spiral of boredom and decay. On Monday I braved Brick Lane to see a photography exhibition with the marvellous Lorna - who will now try to convince you all that it was MY idea to finish the evening in Burger King (Lorna: shup) - and aced another pub quiz with Tim and Yaz. I also saw a couple of movies I did enjoy - Gabriel and Batman Begins (a re-watch in preparation for Dark Knight) - but then came the weekend.

One can only hope that breaking out the 24 season six box set will improve matters.

Very hexciting

2008-07-03T20:21:00.004+01:00

So I was watching some really bad chat shows today, the way proudly led by the grease-covered chav-fest that is Jezza Kyle, and something occurred to me.

I was five - count 'em - chat shows into the afternoon, and that accounted for just the one channel on just the one part of just the one day in just the one country. That's thousands of nutcases every single day appearing on the tellybox.

And yet I have never met anyone who has been on a chat show, nor have I met anyone who has met anyone who has been on a chat show. So where the bloody hell do these people spring from?

Anyone know?

And that's without even touching on what makes them think it could possibly be a good idea to go on one.

p.s. my nomination for best ever chat show: the Jerry Springer episode involving a witch doctor attempting to purge her hillbilly boyfriend's love for his pig. Genius.

Welcome to the weekend

2008-06-29T15:52:00.013+01:00

I took a break from my recent clean-living regime this weekend in honour of two very important things: meeting up with the guys and gals from Twitter/SL and a day of raucous fun with Best Mate.

The first of those involved spending an evening in Wagamamas and Oxygen in Leicester Square with Loaf, Roxette, Johan and Loudmouthman.

Now I'm a bit of a heathen with Japanese food, so I spent most of the week whining at poor Loaf that I didn't understand the menu. His attempts to introduce me to sake also went down like a suspiciously regarded lead balloon.

But I did give it all a go, and in future will be haunting the local Wagamama branches just for the ginger and white choclit cheesecake. Proving I am nothing if not an adventurous ignoramus. And that Loaf was right. But we won't tell him that bit.

Oxygen was its usual cornocopia of cocktails and, three or four jugs of them later, tongues were loose and much gossip was exchanged. Plus I think I managed to spill at least three colours of alcoholic concoction down myself... and probably other people. I still blame the straws, they give you an awful lot of straws.

Anyway, it was marvellous to meet everyone I spend all day talking to when I'm supposed to be working, I had a fab time and I can't wait for the next one, though I have already decided I will be bringing more tissues.

Yesterday began with the Sex and the City movie, which Best Mate and I have been looking forward to forever and a day as we used to watch the episodes back at university and harbour secret wishes to join the cast.

It was fantastic, I wasn't expecting it to be such an emotional experience - much sorting out of the eyeliner was required afterwards. We also had to refrain from talking about it because, every time we did, Best Mate burst into tears, especially at a particular scene where Samantha spoonfeeds a devestated Carrie, because that's something we would do. Cuz we wubs each other <3>

The rest of the evening was spent guzzling wine in the pub, scoffing pizza, wittering endlessly, being drunken at the Twitter party on SL (sorry everyone!) and having a girly moment with some black eyeshadow, hair grips and a handy camera.

Best Mate is my secret personal stylist and I was rather in love with the result of her ridiculously talented tinkerings, explaining why I have liberally plastered this post with pictures of it. Vanity, thy name is kirby grip.

Telling...

2008-06-28T02:11:00.003+01:00

Considering how my week's gone thus far, the results of this quiz are more than a little comforting...

You are The Star

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Star is one of the great cards of faith, dreams realised

The Star is a card that looks to the future. It does not predict any immediate or powerful change, but it does predict hope and healing. This card suggests clarity of vision, spiritual insight. And, most importantly, that unexpected help will be coming, with water to quench your thirst, with a guiding light to the future. They might say you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

What's in a name?

2008-06-25T22:31:00.007+01:00

The other day - while discussing the letter w, I believe - WillowZ revealed the origin of her Second Life name over on her blog. She chose both halves for personal meaning, which got me to wondering whether we all do the same.

For those who've never had the pleasure, when you make a Second Life account you are given free rein to pick a first name, but a finite number of surnames to choose from. The list changes regularly, the original idea being, common wisdom says, to bond people into 'families' within the world.

I picked my own name equally carefully. Willow, as I suspect will surprise nobody, came from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer character of the same name, just as WillowZ's did.

Caldera I picked because it was the name of a little town in Morrowind, my all-time favourite pc game - I might well still be playing it now if my hard drive hadn't crashed, burned and dissolved, taking with it 3 years of saved games. My little dark elf really did kick some arse by the time I was done, but that didn't save her from silicon hell.

So what made you pick your name, was it random or did you have your reasons?

I told you this would happen...

2008-06-23T22:19:00.002+01:00

Remember I warned you I was almost certain to receive regular Big Brother updates, with or without permission? Well here was tonight's...

Willow Zander: "blah blah walks in on blah blah and sees him washing his genitalia in a cup"
Willow Caldera: WHAT?
Willow Zander: they are about to "talk" to him about "said cup"

Just what are you meant to say to that?

If only to faun

2008-06-22T20:20:00.006+01:00

It's taken me an awfully long time to build up to watching Atonement, and for very good reason: the book is my all-time favourite novel and I was concerned they might bork it. Also I'm not especially keen on Kiera Underbitely and didn't want to change the Cecilia in my head to match her emaciated frame.

Having recently suffered from a burgeoning crush on James McAvoy, however, I couldn't resist it any longer. What better place to watch his beautiful emotes than in the most romantic tale I know? It's something of a step up from the until-now top secret fact that both Lorna and I found him highly attractive as a faun in Narnia. We must never speak of this again.

It wasn't the disaster I thought it was going to be, they didn't smack the book around and stick it in a shredder, so I can't complain too much. But a movie was never going to capture the strength of the novel - that ending was like a punch in the face, it shocked me completely and I actually burst into tears on the bus to work. It stayed with me for weeks, no other book has ever so profoundly affected my mood.

(Except possibly LOTR, which I had to give to my mum to look after when I got to the bit with Shelob because I was very small and very distressed.)

I wasn't sure they would be able to pull that off and I was right: it's a good movie, Mr McAvoy is delicious and Underbitely doesn't drive me as far up the wall as she usually does. But it wasn't my Atonement, because that story is a league apart.

Whispering Falls

2008-06-21T19:31:00.009+01:00

Second Life hasn't been the same for WillowZ and I for a long time now. Back in the day, when there were far fewer of us populating the virtual planet and those who had already popped into existence roamed in happy, loyal herds, things were much simpler. The sl00ts were always there waiting when we logged in, ready to have nonsensical fun and look pretty in a pack.

But, as with all things, the novelty wore off and, one by one, they all slipped away. Until finally there were just the two of us, two sad and neglected Willows, a little lonely and slightly bemused.

In the end, even we succumbed to the inevitable. The second version of our lives was no longer as interesting as the first, so gradually we gave up trying to recreate the good times and spent less and less time in pixel form.

Eventually, Second Life turned into a workplace, something that provided blogging and article opportunities and the odd spot of shopping. It wasn't enough - the time I've spent inworld over the last year that hasn't involved something 'official' would barely add up to a couple of evenings.

That was a while ago, and since then there have been plenty of high points, and lots of good friends and happy times, but nothing like as much everyday, unplanned fun as the early days.

So WillowZ and I have bought some land, just for us, in a little island sim called Whispering Falls. Within half an hour, Fred and Hallie had joined us, and that was 4 of the sl00ts back together right there.

It's going to need a lot of work to make it as pretty as we want it to be, but it's already looking gorgeous with its Straylight landscaping. We're a bit on the lazy side, I'm completely useless and we may get sidetracked by fluffy toys and chicken dances, but at last we have a haven, for new friends and old. And a unicorn...obviously.

Arty Farty

2008-06-19T13:57:00.003+01:00

Apparently I'm doing something right after all: I entered a couple of the SL-based pictures I've made recently in a competition set by Fleur Skins. The theme was swimwear and the idea, I believe, was to look as heavenly as possible in one of their skins.

I came third with this entry and got an honourable mention, and very pleased with myself I'm feeling about it too. Perhaps my artistic muscles haven't completely atrophied after all.

You can see the rest of the winning entries by clicking here.

The Loneliest Piece of Popcorn

2008-06-18T20:53:00.007+01:00

Today I was very brave indeed: I went to the cinema all on my ownsome. I've barely considered the idea before, but it struck me that I walk past Richmond Odeon on my way to and from work every day of the week, but not once have I wandered in. Talk about failing to take advantage of a good thing.

So I decided to see The Happening as an after-work treat. It wasn't meant to be today, originally I was supposed to see Sex and the City with Best Mate, but we made a bit of a pig's ear of that plan (despite what can only be described as a monumental effort). So, having been denied one movie experience, I treated myself to another in its place.

And I did enjoy my solitary self, though I was a touch bored waiting for things to start and I missed having someone to jab excitedly during the trailers.

As for the movie, unlike a lot of people, I quite like M Night Shamalayadingdong and his strange little brain. I like the twists and turns he takes, I enjoy the stories he dreams up and, barring a couple, I tend to be more than satisfied with what he does with them. I loved The Sixth Sense, Signs and Lady In the Water (please don't disown me), though I could take or leave the rest of them. Mind you, I'm more patient than most when it comes to movies - I'll watch any old rubbish.

I won't say too much about this one, except to confirm that it is, as many have commented, a very odd movie. Unusual characters, which is always refreshing, and a novel idea. Not flawless, by any means, but I think I liked it.

Or, at least, I did until my brother texted me the ending halfway through.

I'm gonna rip his nads off when I see him next.

Huff Doo

2008-06-17T00:44:00.010+01:00

I try to limit my grumpy days one a month, but occasionally the grumbles run away with me. As has been the case since Saturday, when for no apparent reason I entered a state of extreme lethargy and began to waste time on an epic scale.

Now, as previously discussed at some considerable length, the wasting of time is something I do not take to lightly. When my brain decides it's had enough of being helpful, the rest of me tends to enter into panic mode at the very idea of not doing anything productive and then the whole lot freezes up and becomes incapable of useful movement.

Add to that a hell of a week, one or two (dozen) highly aggravating people, the tax man wanting to take me for every penny I have and various other exciting little experiences and the grand result is: a grump.

One that Best Mate single-handedly managed to lift.

Texting me on my way home from work, she expressed her affection and concern for my irritable state. I wrote back to say I was going home for a grumble and that I felt like one of those trolls, only with flatter hair.

To which she said:

"I am also imagining you as Scrappy Doo...Huff Doo."

Thanks to this startlingly amusing sentence, Huff Doo has this evening proofed 50 pages of Tim's book and 21 pages of her own and written this blog and will be heading off momentarily to read more of her Dreamweaver idiot guide. The bitch is back.

Are we nearly grrrrr yet?

2008-06-13T23:28:00.008+01:00

I wasn't going to blog about The Incredible Hulk, but then I got home and sat down at the pc and remembered I have to find something mildly entertaining to write about for the BBBC, and that was the only interesting thing I've done today.

Now, if I'm going to be absolutely and truly honest, I really only went for the company - Yaz, Tim and Lorna are choice cinema companions, whether pretending to be a monkey at a wheel (Tim), confusing panda arms for boobs (Lorna) or announcing pleasure in having talked so loudly that the people next to us moved and freed up the arm rests (Yaz).

As for the movie, I wasn't expecting a lot from it. I didn't bother to see the first one because I don't find the Hulk a very inspiring character - once he's gone green and felt a bit angsty about it, you've kind of seen it all. Bruce Banner isn't very interesting because he's just a weedy, whining bloke (even if he is Edward 'women want to mother me' Norton) and the Hulk isn't very interesting because he's just a big green thing that bangs stuff.

You can even see it in the poster - one thing wanders about menacingly, the other mopes a good'un. Perhaps you need to see both halves at once - Spiderman and Ironman manage to do personal choice-making while kicking arse. Or maybe it's just that the Hulk's a touch on the predictable side.

So, while there were mixed opinions as to whether the movie was utter bollocks or kind of alright, I'm pitching my flag in the hole that says: the experience was fun, it made me laugh, it was better than I thought it was going to be (which was never going to be hard) and, all in all, I'm glad I went.

Years of Primping

2008-06-12T21:43:00.005+01:00

Some time around last Christmas, a curious change came over my mother: she became absolutely fixated on beauty products, especially those from Neal's Yard. Visiting home turned into a bath oil assult course of epic proportions, it really wasn't like her.

My Christmas presents, it didn't surprise me to note, were awash with pampering liquids, including - count them - SIX Neal's Yard gift boxes, twelve odds and sods from the Body Shop and Marks & Sparks and some random items that caught her magpie eye. Believe me, this picture shows just the tip of a very sickly-smelling iceberg.

I now own a million beauty products and have no idea do with them. I've never been a particularly girly girl, I can't quite get my head around the excitement of smearing stuff over myself on a regular basis for... ta da! Absolutely no discernible result. Nope, I'm a girl geek, my spare cash goes on Battlestar Galactica box sets and my latest plan to replace my Buffy videos with DVD. I'm vain about my avatar, but very seldom myself.

Except with my hair, I'm very vain about my hair. That gets more attention than your average diva - an ex used to call my Mason Pearson the 'comfort brush', because I was seldom seen without it. He was right, it's in the same room as me 24/7.

My new mission is to use up all this bloody liquid by Christmas, just in case she's got a new batch waiting. I applied my first ever face mask the other day and am thrilled to report that there was absolutely no discernible result. And I've applied so much body, face, hand and foot lotion that I'm in danger of sliding off myself.

Words for the Day

2008-06-11T20:28:00.005+01:00

Today I would like to teach you two new words, which you may take away and use to amuse, please, educate and surprise your friends.

Beschnuffle
This was our team name at the pub quiz last night, with which we scored a respectable 65/80 (many thanks to Best Mate and her affinity with Wikipedia). It confused the merry hell out of the landlord, who came over to ask how he ought to pronounce it. When he asked Yaz where the quote came from, she looked at him utterly straight faced and said, "I believe it was Schwarzenegger."

For yes, this word dates back to the mighty Conan the Barbarian, who was once heard to say that he planned to invade a country and "beschnuffle their women and children". We're assuming, in our collective innocence, that it's something to do with nuzzling.

Spacktard
A long-standing favourite, rekindled by the rediscovery of this picture. I think we can probably all think of a few people we would like to send the bunny a-visiting.

The real story

2008-06-10T18:16:00.007+01:00

I'm fresh out of posting inspiration today, which isn't especially helpful on only the third day of my Big Bad Blogger Challenge. Not even the questions Alicia has so thoughtfully thrown out as brain stimulation are floating my boat this evening.

Instead, I'm taking my cue from a poll on CeN's blog that got me thinking earlier today: would you ever meet in real life someone that you know from SL?

The answer is a resounding yes, I've done so plenty of times. I went to the London meet-up a couple of years ago, I used to work for Fizik at Rivers Run Red and I'm (still) planning a visit to Las Vegas to bother Vicious.

Then of course there's Canimal, who was sunshine in my world for quite some time when she moved over here to London - still missing her, there were so many scrapes we could have gotten ourselves into :( Someone remind me to bug her about coming over for a summer holiday...

And then there's WillowZ, who I first met almost four years ago and swiftly made the transition from Second Life acquaintance to real life best mate. I still call her sis, for reasons of ancient pixelised history, and I shall be gracing her with my presence within a matter of weeks for more bellowing into microphones and breaking of everything in sight.

I have my sights on others, of course. I will not rest until I've dragged Laura into the city and there's a meet-up planned with various Twitterati soon, to which I'm also determined to drag Kitty.

So, when it comes to meeting your friends in reality, I'm all for it. After all, where the hell would I be without all that little lot?

Digital Versatile Doom

2008-06-09T18:44:00.013+01:00

A couple of weeks ago I splashed out on what, for me, amounts to musical porn. My favourite band released a limited edition (I have number 1900) live DVD and CD package, which also came with a nifty flickbook that made me very pleased for at least 20 minutes.

Now, very few people have heard of HIM - full name His Infernal Majesty - because they're a bit doom, gloom and gothic eyeliner. Plus they're from Finland, which is only on the musical beaten track if you're particlarly interested in operatic metal. Which I am.

Being female, I do have to admit my interest is partially driven by lust for Ville Valo, who is beyond all doubt the most attractive man I have ever laid eyes on. The man rocks eyeliner better than most women.

I also have to admit that they've gone a bit downhill over the last couple of years - HIM is the only band to have released an album on which I like every single song. And not just once, either. But the last one was nothing like their usual standard, which I have peevishly attributed to Ville falling in love. You can't be cheerful and make this kind of music.

And now for a video moment, for anyone in the mood for lusting over His Gothicness. Or appreciating some marvellous music, of course.

BBBC Sunday...any excuse

2008-06-08T16:52:00.007+01:00

I'm generally a little slow on the uptake, so it's taken me a couple of days to notice Alicia's newest blogger challenge. Frustrated by not having enough to read, she's challenged everyone to manage a post a day for the next week.

Well, despite having failed already, I'll give it a go, if only because I made this pretty picture and I need an excuse to stick it on here because I think it might be my best yet.

Today's help-us-all-get-going question from Alicia was:

If there was one thing on the grid that you could snap your fingers and it would be gone forever, what would it be and why?

My answer is unverified accounts, because allowing people to remain utterly anonymous doesn't exactly have a track record of leading to exemplary behaviour and friendly treatment of others. Perhaps I'm old and cynical, but things seemed a lot more genuine before the sudden influx of anons.

Or possibly Copybot, because it's already been responsible for one creator on my favourites list upping sticks and I can't imagine she's alone. That damn thing will slowly erode the fashion community - these days I'm suspicious of every skin maker I don't know, which is a crying shame.

So that's my two cents, now everybody please regard my lovely picture and be astonished. Thank you.

Chucklevision

2008-06-06T19:51:00.009+01:00

Richard, breaking off from his work as something vital occurred to him, said to me this afternoon: "I have an important question to ask of you, one that will affect our working relationship for the next two, maybe three months."

I stared at him, heart a-flutter as possible scenarios involving sackings, extra pressure and imminent creative bickering ran through my head. "I need to know," he continued, "Whether you will be watching Big Brother?"

Because yes, it's that time of year again: Big bloody Brother is back. Richard was making sure, with a carefully aimed interrogation, that I won't be subjecting him to daily updates that will make him grind his teeth.

Now, aside from the how irritating absolutely everyone involved is - and I don't just limit that statement to the housemates, because they seem to have outdone themselves with aggravating presenters this time - the beginning of the Big Brother season means just one thing to me...

It's time for this sentence to ring through cyberspace and the mobile phone network on a daily basis: "ARE YOU THERE OMG TELL ME YOU'RE THERE". A sentence I grew used to hearing during the last cycle because WillowZ finds the whole thing even more stressful than I do, but still insists on watching it. Which I'm pretty sure was the cause of her late pregnancy high blood pressure.

We watched the opening show last night and I can't claim to be optimistic that there will be anyone worth watching. And, quite frankly, I'm mystified as to why anyone auditions any more. Were I to be accepted as a housemate, I would be immediately insulted, because they I would know they had categorised me as either weird, psychotic or pig ignorant.

Naturally, I assured Richard that I wouldn't dream of putting myself through the torture of watching this year's show. Which means I will be quite incapable of inflicting a daily update upon him, as I will have no date to up.

But I do have to admit...I probably lied.

The Sting of Jambition

2008-06-03T23:25:00.010+01:00

It turns out (and this will surprise nobody) that I'm not nearly as clever as I think I am, and Tim and Yaz are little better.

Mind you, when we decided to do a pub quiz this evening, we brooked no jambiguity (you'll have to ask Tim about the jam obsession) as far as our chances were concerned.

Consequently, the team names bandied about as suggestions included:

1) Bucket of spackers
2) Mummy's Special Little Angels
and my personal favourite (because it was my idea)
3) There's only two of us and we're both stupid.

(There were three of us.)

Eventually, we settled on Da Speshuls. We didn't do too badly, all things considered - better than the middle-aged women next to us, who CHEATED at the end and gave themselves a higher score (I knew their bloody results, I had to mark their answers, the cheek of it). So we were announced as last place and given a condescending round of applause, but frankly we think 52/70 wasn't bad for a first try.

I did cheat a bit and text my dad and Best Mate for one or two answers. Best Mate, who is like a walking map of London, saved us from mucking up a Monopoly question, but my dad wittered something about aquariums and was no help at all. Tim, meanwhile, was paying absolutely no attention and doodling all over the pictures round.

MummyC then texted her consternation at not being consulted, so I asked her which wading bird is named after its shellfish dinner. "Duck-billed Prawnpuss," came the reply. If I ever go on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, I'm calling Best Mate for my phone a friend, the parents are clearly imbeciles.

Next week, we're going for Rendezvous With Dramarama, or possibly Rendezvous With Bananarama. Which will only make sense if you're an Arthur C. Clarke fan. Or weird.

Alternatively, if we're feeling rebellious: Shit, Crapple and Plop.

Warped Thinking

2008-06-02T23:50:00.008+01:00

Everything about this post is going to be weird, it's only fair I warn you before you get started. It's not even my fault, which you might say is weird in itself.

It all began, as these things often do, with a small airborne creature.

I was walking to work not long ago when the aforementioned mini-fly aimed itself successfully at my eye. As I was smack bang in the middle of Richmond Bridge and some considerable way from a mirrored surface, I came up with the cunning - though admittedly weird - plan to take a photo of my eye so that I could check whether the fly had stuck around.

I then took this picture, which was of absolutely no help. I downloaded it from my phone yesterday, looked at it on a larger screen and have only one thing to say:

What. The. Hell.

Time Fear

2008-06-01T15:56:00.008+01:00

During a bit of recent self-reflection, I concluded that I have spent my adult life suffering from a condition I like to call Time Fear.

Because of this, I have become a multitasker par excellence. At this moment, I am both writing this post and watching the tellybox. I have paused writing twice already, once to take a photo and once to write an email about another topic entirely, because even my thinking is going along two paths at once.

Such is my dedication to the art of doing-as-much-as-I-can-at-the-same-time that I have cunningly set up a mirror next to my desk so I can touch type while I watch the latest episode of Lost.

Time Fear, you see, is typified by a constant panic that I am wasting time, which in turn means wasting life, which I believe to be the worst of all cardinal sins. I dislike going to bed if I haven't achieved anything during the day, whether that be writing, reading, learning, experiencing or something else I deem 'worthwhile'.

I feel edgy if I'm not doing something constructive and find it very difficult to relax with a good TV show or movie, because I can't help thinking I could be doing something more useful.

(Cue gratuitous barely linked PS artwork shot, just because I want to.)

It all goes back to my formative years, as these things tend to do. Whenever I announced exam results to DaddyC, his response would be the same: "That's great, but what's next?"

Of course, none of this dual attention-giving means I get things done any faster, it just means I don't enjoy the relaxing side of life as much as I'd like. So bugger it, I'm going to take a full two hours off tonight, force myself onto the sorely underused sofa and watch the Lost finale, overexcited fingers be damned.

(But only if I've written another 1000 words of my book by then.)

What a Novel Idea

2008-05-29T01:01:00.006+01:00

This proud, majestic example of cartoon horse is the second to experience rejection during my online gaming career. This one is not called Spanky, nor is it languishing in the depths of WoW having not been fed in a month, but all the same it is feeling the first twinges of neglect.

I do have a good reason for my appalling ownership skills, however: thanks to some inspiration from Sparky Tim, who let me read the novella he just completed at the weekend (and may I just say that it will be many years until the smugness of having been the first to read that work of genius wears off), I have begun writing my own book again.

This is not the first novel to have fallen squib-like from my biro. Back in school, I wrote a Point Horror-style tale that I seem to remember included every single difficult-to-escape-from situation I had ever read about (which was a lot). It was a popular undertaking and, at one point, I had a line of classmates on the desks beside me, passing the pages along like a readership conveyor belt as I completed them.

It was pants, of course. The next attempt wasn't much better - I think it was called Xanadu, but I'm not sure why, as that word had bugger all to do with anything. Certainly not the diary of a teenage tearaway, written by, as you might guess, a wannabe teenage tearaway.

Next up was a sci-fi piece that I absolutely loved - I got quite far with it, too, and had lots of marvellous characters and a beautifully crafted plot. Except I then found out I'd been a complete muppet, failed to do my research and set about telling a completely impossible story. So that put an end to that venture.

My latest attempt, however, I have high hopes for. The plot is water-tight, I love the characters and the setting, now I just need to get the damn thing down without writing text as flowery and over-enthusiastic as a bad fantasy novel involving a burly bloke in sandals named Ershwin.

Although Best Mate and Laura seem to be enjoying it thus far, as evidenced by this greeting from Laura yesterday evening, in search of the next installment:

Laura: where is it? where is it??
Laura: gimmeh
Me: ello!
Laura: hai
Laura: gimmeh
Me: LOL ok hold yer horses, this isn't polished yet, you realise!
Laura: i know i know!
Laura: shup an gimmeh
Laura: jkjk
Laura: but srsly
Laura: gimmeh

Meanwhile Best Mate cleverly summarised the whole thing as follows:

This is really making me get the heebie jeebies about something very urgent that i dont know what it is yet but i still care!

I'm not at all sure why these two don't set about writing books too, they'd be bloody hilarious, but when I suggested the idea to Best Mate, she said:

Oh yes i like the sound of that! Most of them would be ninsense. See?

Wish me luck everyone, only another hundred thousand words to go, piece of piss!

An Arabian Foray

2008-05-25T13:04:00.017+01:00

I've known Abby Coalcliff of Devilish Cupcake since her very first days in the virtual fashion world - our fates coincided because her clothes were the first I ever blogged, back in the days of Style Disorder, and, on the flipside, I was the first person to blog her clothes. Things like this tend to help you bond.

She's still one of my favourite designers and seems to have a knack of inspiring my creative juices with her funky, colourful designs - such as with the picture above, which was one of my first forays into flickr arty goodness.

Talking of which, I've been complaining for years that I have no way to get the pictures in my head out as anything other than really crap stick men, so fiddling around with Photoshop, as amateur and bull-in-a-china-shop as I may be, is wish-fulfillment for me.
I said at the beginning of the year that I wanted to learn photography: post-processing is, of course, a big part of this, so improving my Photoshop skills has a practical side, too.

Abby sent me a message recently, asking if I'd do a teaser shot for the dress she was making. I believe I may have squealed - at work, of course, as these things wouldn't be mortifying in private - and said a very big yes, and these pictures are the result. The dress reminded me of Arabia, so I went for that as a theme.

I can't work out which I like best, because in a couple I played with lighting effects to hide the dress slightly, in the interests of keeping it teaser-y, but the prettiest seem to be those with full, bright colour.

The shots were taken in a strange little Arabian-themed club in which noobs in system skin kept wandering up and going into appearance mode right next to me. Like ants, they are: if you don't stamp on the first one, the lot of them come to investigate.

Now be nice about them, everyone, as I have the fragile ego of an artist now, and also the emo tendencies.

They all look rather better when viewed bigger, by the by, so I recommend clicking on the pictures for a closer look. In fact, I positively demand it.

Speed-posting, whip in hand

2008-05-23T23:30:00.006+01:00

This will be a hurried entry, because I am trying to beat Tim. He is on his way home from dropping me off, but even if I utilise my snazzy speed-typing skills I highly doubt I'll get this post up before his appears because the cunning sod already wrote it and just has to click the publish button.

We have just returned, you see, from watching the new Indiana Jones movie, along with Lorna and Yaz, which may go some way to explaining the race-to-the-finish mood. Being a lazy bastard, of course, this is about as competitive as I get in the swashbuckly stakes.

I'm not sure whether I enjoyed the movie or the company more. And I'm not just talking about Tim and his incredible talent for not moving a muscle for the whole running time, or the fact that we three girls sounded like a bunch of nans (the phrase "he'll do himself a mischief" was never far from our lips).

I am also referring to the nutter we shared the cinema with, who insisted on interacting with the screen and sharing his astonishment at the plot developments. "No!" he shouted, more than once, and (on one very memorable occasion), "WHAT!"

The movie is very good - not, perhaps, as much of a movie feast as its predecessors but very amusing, highly entertaining and definitely worth watching. It has more Indy than your average Indy, but I guess when you're the franchise that created the cliches, you're a bit buggered when those cliches are too cliched to use any more.

And that will have to be that, because I really need to click publish...

Secrets from my headphones

2008-05-20T23:36:00.005+01:00

I got tagged again, which I can only attribute to being an easy and very obvious target. Thank you Tim. So here we go, the iPod challenge. Which I am told has something to do with the shuffle function.

1) How would you describe yourself? 
Sugar by Ladytron. Well there's a good start eh?

2) What do you like in a bloke? 
Queen of the Damned, by Korn and Slipknot. Erm...

3) What is your motto? 
What You Waiting For by Gwen Stefani. That's not too bad, actually.

4) What do your friends think of you? 
In the Nightside of Eden by HIM. Which is exceedingly cryptic.

5) What do you think about often? 
A Sequel of Decay by Tristania. The mind boggles...

6) What do your parents think of you? 
You Are the One by HIM. Well of course I am.

7) What do you think of your best friend? 
She Drove Me To Daytime TV by Funeral For A Friend *sniggers*

8) What do you think of the person you like? 
Love In Cold Blood by HIM. Interesting...

9) What do you want to be when you grow up? 
Immortal by The Rasmus. True fact.

10) What do you think when you see the person you like? 
System by Chester Bennington. Which might explain the faces I pull.

11) What song will they play at your wedding? 
Give It To Me by Timbaland. Oh very appropriate.

12) What will they play at your funeral? 
Frozen by Celldweller. Does this speak of cryogenics, one wonders?

13) What is your hobby/interest?
Running Blind by Godsmack. This, too, explains a lot of the faces I pull.

14) What is your biggest fear? 
Bat Country by Avenged Sevenfold. Actually I quite like bats, they've got cute little faces.

15) What is your biggest secret? 
Alone I Break by Korn. That's crockery, furniture and anything else you're daft enough to leave me near, to clarify.

16) What do you think of your friends? 
Crazy by Kidney Thieves. Yes, the lot of you are crackers so that fits nicely.

17) What is your theme song? 
The Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson. I <3 my iPod.

18) What do you think of your family? 
Beyond Redemption by HIM. So much truth in this exercise.

19) What is your best friend's theme song? 
Shallow End by Lacuna Coil. (she'll understand this: when teaching Best Mates to swim...)

20) What is your mood right now? 
The Weapons Are Concealed by Biffy Clyro. Well my brother's now been here 10 days, so who's surprised?

21) If your heart could talk what would it say? 
I'm Doing The Best That I Can by Godsmack. Bless.

22) What do your co-workers think of you? 
The Last Remaining Light by Audioslave (I so wanted it to be I Never Told You What I Do For A Living by My Chemical Romance, I was ever so tempted to cheat)

23) What does your future look like?
Song or Suicide by HIM. Oh dear, emo days ahead then......

I tag you all, all of you, every last one. Go forth and play songs randomly, my pretties.

The greatest show on Middle Earth

2008-05-16T14:55:00.008+01:00

When I turn coat, I do it in style. I spent a large chunk of yesterday directing plaintive whines towards anyone likely to listen, it having suddenly occurred to me that I don't really like musicals, so a three-hour one, even based on my life-long literary passion, was probably going to be an exercise in strength of will(ow).

I was basing this opinion, however, on the miserable experience that was, fittingly, Les Miserables. There is only so much joy can be wrought from abject poverty and the killing of small children in the name of revolution.

Lord of the Rings, I was overexcited to discover, was the opposite: lavish, lush, imaginative and full of surprise after clever surprise. It must have been hernia-inducingly expensive to put on: from the detail of the costumes to the giant climbing vines adorning the stage and front boxes to the constant effects and splendour, everything was as big and bright as possible.

They did an admirable job of avoiding comparison with the movies. The characterisation was different, the themes and emphasis were a step away - everything was different enough to stand alone.

At the very beginning, the theatre is filled with wandering hobbits, mingling with the audience and trying to catch fireflies. This marvellous interaction continues when, in the small break I think replaced the second interval, the theatre is invaded by bounding orcs. One of which, to my delight, took it upon himself to terrorise my brother.

I stalked Scrooge-like past the merchandise stalls at the beginning, scoffing at the idea of buying anything. "It's not like it's the movie version," I thought to myself. Having turned coat by halfway through, I ended up scurrying back out during the interval and picking up brochure, programme, poster and soundtrack.

Which decision I am relieved to have made, as I haven't stopped humming one of the songs ever since. Who the hell was I kidding? If it relates to Lord of the Rings, I will not only love it passionately, I will hunt and gather as much memorabilia as I can, to be hoarded within the nooks and crannies of my flat. I will also lust after Aragorn, this is a given.

Oh and I brushed up against Michelle from Skins in the ladies' room.

Indulging the witter

2008-05-15T13:40:00.005+01:00

There's another meme going round - I think it started out as a cunning bonding exercise in-world, but was dragged to the blogosphere and has begun doing the rounds out here. Which is the medium I shall therefore choose, in the interests of keeping up with the times and, of course, finding an excuse to show off some of the pictures I've made.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
8.45 - I like to leave these things to the last minute, now that work is just a 15 minute walk away.

2. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds, although I do like pearls if properly placed.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Iron Man, as extensively documented in a previous post. Seeing Doomsday on Monday, which is not even slightly relevant to the question.

4. Favorite TV show?
Battlestar Galactica, very closely followed by Buffy and Heroes.

5. What do you usually have for breakfast?
I don't eat breakfast, it would involve getting up with more than 25 minutes to spare before I have to leave, which is just never going to happen.

6. What is your middle name?
Diana, for my grandmother.

7. What food do you dislike?
Seafood, because it gives me the heebie jeebies.

8. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
Too hard to answer as I don't buy CDs any more, but I suspect either Avenged Sevenfold or HIM would qualify.

9. Favorite sandwich?
Ham and cheese.

10. What characteristic do you despise?
Laziness, there's just not enough life to go wasting it doing nothing.

11. Favorite item of clothing?
My coat, it's black with a furry hood and I adore it!

12. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?
Egypt, to explore the mythology - the most fascinating ancient culture of them all, it was.

13. What color is your bathroom?
White tiles, white everything - really quite dull.

14. Do you make friends easily?
SL-wise, I'm pretty wary, I've come into contact with an awful lot of idiots over the years and am of the general opinion that most people are after something. But there's a lot of people in both lives that I would be a very unhappy bunny without, so I'd say I just don't move from acquaintance to friend very easily.

15. Where would you retire to?
Tuscany, in a beautiful, sunny country setting, where life is slow and the days are long. Assuming they have a good internet connection.

16. What was your most recent memorable birthday?
Going to Cyprus for my 21st.

17. Favorite sport to watch?
Football, but only international games.

18. How many towns have you lived in?
Three - Bournemouth, Exeter and London.

19. How many do you think will send this back?
Hatty may do it, and curse me for it, but I'm not sure anyone else will.

20. Whats on your bedroom floor right now?
A huge pile of books and the throw I keep kicking off the bed.

21. Favorite saying?
The definition of an expert: ex, the unknown quantity, and spurt, a drip in a hurry.

22. When is your birthday?
February 1st - and sometime in June on SL, I forget the exact date.

23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Night person, I'm far more dithery in daylight and tend to get much more done in the evenings.

24. What is your shoe size?
Size 7 - I have no idea what that is in any other country.

25. Pets?
None, not really allowed them in my rented flat, but I so badly want a cat and a hamster.

26. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us?
Not yet :)

27. What did you want to be when you were little?
A journalist.

28. Which talent would you most like to have?
Artistic, because as you can see my pictorial talents are somewhat primitive.

29. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
All of them.

30. What is your favorite flower?
Orchids and white lilies

31. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to?
May 25th, because it's a bank holiday weekend.

32. What color are your eyes?
Dark brown

33. What was your favorite toy as a child?
A fluffy cat my grandparents gave me and I used to carry around with me absolutely everywhere. I believe it was called Pussy...oh dear.

34. Summer or winter?
Until this week I would have said winter, but for some reason I'm happy as can be in the sunshine this year and really enjoying the stirrings of summer.

35. Hugs or kisses?
Both, please.

36. Chocolate or Vanilla?
I'm a girl, of course I'm going to say chocolate.

37. Do you want your friends to send this back to you?
Yes, but I'm going to shrug nonchalantly and say I'm not bothered. I've been taking lessons from my teenage brother.

38. When was the last time you cried?
A week or so ago, because something reminded me of someone I really miss.

39. What is under your bed?
Nothing, I sleep on two mattresses as my bedroom is a cubby hole and isn't tall enough for a proper bed.

40. Who is the friend you have had the longest in SL?
Vicious Firefly, I've known her since my first week, I think.

41. What did you do last night?
Played LOTRO with TimothyL and had a night off from escorting my brother around London.

42. Favorite smell?
Potatoes and minted peas cooking on a spring morning.

43. What are you afraid of?
Death, spiders and not achieving my ambitions.

44. Plain, sweet, or salted Popcorn?
Plain popcorn is stupid, salted is the work of the devil, so sweet please.

45. How many keys on your key ring?
6 and a rainbow heart that Laura gave me for Christmas.

46. How many years at your current job?
I suppose that would be 'freelancer' and therefore I have been doing this for almost a year now.

47. Do you have any scars?
A little one on my arm from where I got trapped under a roundabout as a small, foolish bairn.

48. Favorite day of the week?
Friday.

Please do feel free to consider yourself tagged, if such a thing would please you.

Starstruck...again

2008-05-14T14:44:00.006+01:00

Just before the interval of last night's show, Derren Brown instructed the audience to write questions on little cards, to be sealed in little black envelopes and placed in a bowl on the stage - the purpose of which was for him to guess the question, the answer and the asker's identity during the second act.

We were far too slow to join the throng heading for the stage and failed to get an envelope, so I concentrated during the rest of the show on sending out confusing vibes to make his task much harder.

Important note: No, I don't actually think he's psychic.

Anyway, the point of my recounting this little tale is that, while shuffling stage-wards, I spotted none other than the fabulously funny David Mitchell heading in the other direction! Who is, I might add, really rather attractive in person.

I caught his eye, did some strange oogly-boogly eye thing in sheer excitement, brushed against his arm and prodded my brother repeatedly until he hissed that he doesn't know who David Mitchell is.

Sigh.

I, however, was absolutely thrilled and have added him to my list of incredibly random celebrity spottings, alongside such eminent persons as:

Phillip Schofield, ambling through Waterloo
Donald Fisher from Home and Away, also at Waterloo (and an awful lot shorter)
Timmy Mallet once hit me over the head with his mallet and I told him to piss off, thus ruining my chances of appearing on the show.
I met that Cindy bint from Eastenders and she was really rude and sour-faced.
The Playbus once drove past me several times and waved.
Helen Mirren asked me what floor of a building she needed to go to.
Tony Bennett having dinner in a restaurant, before asking to be moved because Dean and I kept pointing and giggling at him.
The Cheeky Girls, wandering along Baker Street.
Bill Bailey lives on the road I used to walk down to work, so I saw him all the time.
Matthew Kelly came and presented awards at my school - he's awfully tall.
I walked right past Neve Campbell and Alan Davies, who were in Waitrose at the same time, and managed to not spot either of them.
I saw Richard Ashcroft in a different Waitrose.

The cherry on the cake...

I used to live directly opposite Chesney Hawkes, on the same road as Sir Trevor McDonald. Down the road from Aled Jones. I am THAT cool.

So who, dear readers, have you spotted upon your travels?

A Gift to Comedy

2008-05-13T14:52:00.004+01:00

As I was giggling frantically at another of his cunning word-play witticisms yesterday, my dear colleague David glanced over at me appreciatively and called me "a gift to comedy".

Which is in many ways true, because I laugh loudly, constantly and easily and am at my happiest when doing so.

In fact, my very favourite people are the ones who make me laugh. Which brought me to realise, as I sat shedding tears of laughter at Dara O'Briain's show last night, that the quality I probably value most of all in others - aside from not being a twat - is humour.

Make me giggle, win my heart, that appears to be the golden rule. There are certain people who can have me breathless with mirth within minutes of talking to them. A surprised and slightly concerned Tim, not having seen me for at least a year, once immortalised this concept as follows:

"Reminded that former work pal Sarah laughs at anything and everything; resolve to refer to her as the giggle-a-tron from now on."

Fortunately I know a satisfying number of highly amusing people, which means my comedy cravings are addressed often. Alternatively, I can simply scroll through my blogroll and know someone on there will have frisbeed something across the intermaweb to make me smile.

My question for you all is thus: what do you value most about your friends? Is there a quality that connects them?

Man of iron, child of doom

2008-05-12T14:02:00.006+01:00

It is Day 3 of my enforced familial interlude, and thus far neither of us has died or burst into tears. Away from the shadow of the parentals, it appears we get on just fine. Plus, as I suspected, we have very similar tastes and a shared interest in not bickering.

On Day 1, after settling him in, we watched Resident Evil 3, which I cannot help but like because Milla Jovovich is one of my girl crushes, hence my dressing up as Alice at the last Twitter party. How can you resist a woman so unashamed about her gorgeousness? Also there are zombies and bangs and jumps and someone I find spectacularly irritating dies horribly, which ticks an awful lot of boxes.

Yesterday we went to see Iron Man, which I was expecting to be a bit bland, but completely adored. I have noticed that those of my friends who, like me, err on the side of geek loved it, while the non-geeks didn't like it much at all. Robert Downey Jr is mouth-watering and charming in both his sweaty, wife-beater apparel and his natty suits and has re-earned his privileged place among my Hollywood uber-crushes.

We also watched The Kingdom, which I was in too much of an Iron Man afterglow to properly appreciate and was all a bit serious and chilling. I want to see the shiny superhero movie again, please.

Tonight we're off to see Dara O'Briain at the Hammersmith Apollo, after which I will get some time on LOTRO if I have to shut him in the wardrobe to do it.

SCD Weekend Quiz

2008-05-10T01:53:00.008+01:00

I'm supposed to be in bed because my brother arrives tomorrow to suck out my will to live, but we all know I have no willpower in the face of quizzes, so I've taken it upon myself to answer this one by Thema Felix on Shopping Cart Disco.

1. When you hear about a new release, which are you most likely to run out and buy: hair, shoes, or clothes?
Hair, I have enough to weave a planet-sized hairball, yet somehow never seem to have any. One of SLife's great mysteries, I suppose.

2. Skin choice: pale, tan, coloured (like green), or dark? Blond, brown, red, or black hair?
Pale, always pale. It just suits me better. Also I spent my first two years wearing white goth skins and only grudgingly moved over to any kind of colour at all, so I'm probably still being a bit otherwise about it. I favour black hair, that being my rl favourite (and how mine is in rl when I'm pro-active enough to get to the hairdressers) although I do enjoy the occasional dirty blonde or red.

3. Which event do you most likely put on your calendar: fashion show, live concert, store sale, sim opening, club contest, or a class?
Store sale, I don't really attend the others what with being a hermit. I put the rest of those on the calendar for my writer team though, if that counts.

4. What’s your ideal SL™ job?
Pretty happy with the ones I have :)

5. Sexy clothing preference: silks, lingerie, or revealing clothing(mini skirts, super tight dresses, etc)?
Erm...lingerie, I guess. Never saw the point in it before though, it's not like in real life when you know you're wearing something special and it changes your whole posture. But it turns out that it's fab for photographs :)

6. Facial hair on male avies (or yourself, if you are male): yea or nay?
Yea, definitely.

7. Land home or skybox?
I have a 512m patch with a Holodeck on it (shup, I know it's geeky) but I never ever go there - I am generally to be found in Willowz's skybox on Canimal or Laura and my lovely homely home (with added Top Gear annex) in the sky. So uhhh...2 out of 3 for skybox.

8. Decorating your walls: SL™ photos, objects, RL photos, or RL art?
We have a cat clock and a calendar Sysperia made. And the skybox features the infamous Christmas Mouse, my timeless companion.

9. Do you prefer to own land or rent?
Neither!

10. Small boutiques or large stores?
Small boutiques, as I get confused easily.

11. Photo-realistic skins and clothing or hand-drawn?
Hand drawn, there's something a bit creepy about lifelike veins in a cartoon world.

12. For your one-on-one conversations, do you prefer voice or typed chat?
Typed, or I can't watch the telly :P Also I hate my voice. I won't even do it with WillowZ willingly, and she's been subjected to my voice more than enough in the real world. I'm shy, what can I say!

13. Prim objects or sculpties?
Sculpties - think of the shoes people.

14. Bling, effect sounds, and particle effects: on or off?
Are you kidding? I keep my sound muted and run away from bling. Items with non-optional bling make me cranky.

15. (If you use one) What photostudio do you like best?
Thanks to my squatting prowess, I use about a zillion.

16. Face light: necessary or blinding?
Necessary - BUT! If you download Ana Lutetia's windlight presets, you no longer need one! It's like magic, and I'm tempted to ask her to marry me.

17. Do you pick up all the freebies you find or only pick the ones from designers you know?
All of them, because they're like testers and I often find new places to shop that way.

18. Pre-fab buildings: do you own one? Do you like them?
Yes because I'm a primtard and, left to make my own home, would reside within a plywood cube.

19. Would you rather be a Furry or Tiny?
Tiny, cos aaawww!

20. Graphic settings: Short draw distance or long? Release Candidate or standard viewer? Avatar imposters (yes/no)?
I got lost halfway through that question, so will just say that Spanky the Beautiful Computer can handle whatever I throw at it, but I'm too lazy for the release candidate.

21. Sim design: tropical island, residential neighborhood, urban streets, or themed fantasy (or another type I didn’t think of)?
Themed fantasy, like Straylight, Canimal or Grendel's Children.

22. When not in a club or concert, do you stream music or turn it off?
I got out of the habit of streaming when my pc couldn't handle it, so now I never do.

23. Flickr: Woot? Ick?
Bloody love it.

24. What’s your favorite place to explore or hang out (that isn’t a shopping area)?
Straylight, it's just so beautiful!

25. Animation Overriders: Do you prefer to make your own or buy a set? And where’s the best place to go for them?
I made my own from various pieces, a lot of them Maitreya and Torrid. I like to make my own because it's just that bit more personal, but it also means I can never be buggered to update.

Shock...awe...

2008-05-09T15:53:00.001+01:00

I just came across this picture on flickr, which was created by the fabulous ColeMarie when I went down to Straylight to interview her for Twilight Magazine.

I cannot believe how incredible she's made me look! Check out the flowing hair and the amazing colours - the woman's a bloody genius.

So I thought I'd mark this moment for posterity and general vanity, because let's face it, it's squeal-inducingly exciting to be featured in a piece of art.

Reason #456 why I hate my flat

2008-05-08T20:31:00.003+01:00

I am a touch peevish this evening. It is around 8.30pm and, despite having left work at the usual hour, I have only just sat down at the computer.

This would be because my landlords are idiots and the handyman they employ is similarly challenged. Under normal circumstances they are the most infuriating bunch to deal with, routinely ignoring pleas for help. A couple of months ago we managed to short my entire flat through misuse of Swiss cookware (long story): it took them a week to come and check I wasn't in danger of death by electrocution (and starvation, because the oven had blown up). And careful readers will also recall the window saga.

Today, however, was the irritating cherry on the dislikeable cake. The handle of my front door has been hanging off since last weekend, so obviously they thought it would be appropriate to leave it in that state until today.

So the blithering eejit fixed the handle, then bolted the door from the inside and exited via the back door, breaking it on his way through and rendering both doors unusable.

Why? Why bolt the door leading to the building exit and go out of the other one, necessitating the moving of several pieces of furniture, the locating of a key and a needless traipse through the overgrown garden and spider-ridden side shed? Why? Why not just go out the door you've been working on and is therefore probably open, revealing a 10-foot stroll through the lobby to the street? WHY? Nothing about this experience makes the slightest bit of sense.

Three hours and one very bad temper later, I am home but wishing to leave this hellhole.

Anyone got room for a Willow? Comes with own blanket :(

SLNN Writer Search

2008-05-07T00:35:00.001+01:00

I've lost two of my writers for SLNN this week, both due to commitments in the real world, which is a huge shame and also means I'm currently short some talent.

Which means it's recruiting time. Know anyone with an eye for a story and an interest in pixel fashion who would like to write about style and get paid for the effort? Drop me a notecard in-world or an email to littlewillow@gmail.com if so.

Preferably before I work anyone into the ground to make up the shortfall... ;)

Brother-sitting

2008-05-06T13:26:00.007+01:00

Doom is approaching. I have been "volunteered" (if emotional blackmail, pleading and blatant threats can be described as such) for brother-sitting duty next week. Ten full days of sulky teenage boy while MummyC and DaddyC swan off to Washington.

What on earth am I going to do with him for all that time? Presumably he will sleep until early evening, mope about a bit and then demand to be entertained and fed until the small hours, while being noisy and emitting smells.

I tried to put them off by threatening to take him to Camden Market and send him home as an emo or a goth, but neither image had a tangible effect on the situation. Consequently, I am in the process of compiling a list of things to do that fit the following criteria:

1. Would interest a sulky teenage boy
2. Sulky teenage boy would not be embarrassed to do with his elderly sibling
3. Won't cost an arm and a leg.

Thus far I have decided to take him to the London Dungeons and am debating the pros and cons of leaving him there. Any suggestions?

p.s. I'm looking forward to it really, but I'm not going to admit that, am I now?

Such a good friend

2008-05-03T00:03:00.003+01:00

I am a wonderful friend. So loving and giving, as it happens, that I spent an hour tonight giving of my very breath to a bastard of a blow-up bed for Best Mate to sleep on. Here I am, looking suitably impressed with the situation.

I am dizzy and going to bed.

That is all.

The Twitter Thriller

2008-04-28T00:10:00.005+01:00

Unplanned, unpracticed, unlikely and nevertheless truly fabulous - here in all its recorded glory is last night's musical celebration of Twitterdom. I present to you... The Twitterer's Thriller!

You can see the full-sized version, made by long-time SL buddy Mewsic, by clicking here.

(That's me in the middle, fact fans, in the red, leopard print and thigh-highs, accompanied by various Twitter users and new friends, all of whom I adore for being game for such a laugh.)

A Bunch of Twitterers

2008-04-27T03:49:00.010+01:00

Tonight marked the longest sustained period I've stayed in-w0rld for months - and one of the best time I've had on SL in all my four long years. Recently I've seldom logged in unless for work or picture taking, and I've rarely left the skybox unless to spend my Lindens. But thanks to some eager fellow Twitterers and Kitty holding my hand, I bravely ventured to the SL Twitter meet-up tonight - and what a night!

The cosy little campfire scene was packed almost from the start with people I spend half my days jabbering at on Twitter, and it was a real pleasure to put virtual faces to the names and talk to them all properly, in sentences not limited to 140 characters.

And what a fantastic bunch! Codebastard Redgrave, who I have long been smooching in Twitter, was quite literally on fire, though she seemed perfectly unconcerned by her flaming bosom.

Mind you, so did Roxette, which suggests there's a new trend I've yet to spot the bandwagon for. In this particular case, I think I can live without.

After a couple of hours, Kitty and I had to pop off to attend to real-worldly matters, reconvening for an impromptu shopping trip at the Artilleri sale.

Where we ran into QueenKellee, who was on a similar mission while covered in fluff - you really ought to click here to get an accurate impression of the ridiculous level of fluff about her person. Tickled me for some time, it did.

We returned to find the party threatening to wind down - hardly a surprise after 4 hours or so, but we weren't done yet so we determinedly rallied the troops and made everyone dance Thriller and various Pussycat Dolls routines.

In harmony, in a line, with beautiful choreography, while Mewsic filmed us all. I'm hoping the video will be available tomorrow so you, too, can enjoy the sheer manliness of a male avatar wiggling his hips to Vogue.

I was then treated to a much less raucous dance with Timothy Lilliehook, who I can confirm is lovely and snuggly and a perfect gentleman. Despite what all the suspicious pervs kept suggesting :P

My evening was rounded off with a one-on-one tutu shimmy with uber-sexy Codebastard, who shimmied through several sambas with me in our complementary outfits. I'm gonna be boasting about this for weeks ;)

Thank you everyone who made this such a wonderful evening, I enjoyed every second. The pics are on my Twitter in a rather larger, better form - click here.

Exterminate

2008-04-25T12:22:00.003+01:00

Apparently my unhinged desire to purchase everything in sight has yet to abate. Last night I, along with the rest of my editing team, traipsed up to the centre of town to attend some focus groups. These are basically sessions in which you sit 8 people in a room, show them what you've made and pray they coo positively at it.

We left the office a touch early because we knew that, along the way, we would have to pass Forbidden Planet, a shop of such exultant and unabashed geekdom that it's almost impossible not to be sucked in.

I tried so hard not to buy anything, but I failed and came out with a dalek. I don't know why, I have absolutely no idea where to put it and I am suitably ashamed. He's quite cute though and may make an entertaining desk companion. Also he was only two quid, which sealed the deal.

One thing that I found quite interesting during the focus groups, when I wasn't playing with my new toy, was that the moderator asked each of them the following question to get started: "What's your name, what do you do and how would your friends describe you?"

Well I know my name, I know what I do (most of the time) but I haven't a clue how anyone would describe me. But I'm fascinated to know, so I have decided to ask - if you had to sum me up in a sentence, what would you say?

Just you watch as nobody bloody comments now -.-

Pure motivation!

2008-04-23T14:23:00.002+01:00

My dear friend and fellow writer Lisa, who has provided me with sparkling text for my magazines for many years now, has just published her fabulous new book on Lulu. I'd never heard of the site before, but upon investigation it turns out to be a great idea: you can sell your novel, book, poetry collection or other as an ebook and, at the same time, as printed copies. There's no cost, because the copies are only printed as needed, so there's no initial price for a huge print run.

Knowing, as I do, that Lisa is a wonderful writer and hugely inspirational person, I recommend the book she has published on the site: Mind & Motivation. Click here to see it. I've bought my copy and can't wait to get stuck in - and am also considering what nonsense of my own might be publishable through this method!

Not your average Sunday

2008-04-21T00:34:00.009+01:00

This evening was the regular SL Bloggers bash, hosted by the fabulous Tymmerie.

The theme was "camping, or things you might find in the woods".

So, with the help of some grass stains made by Laura, some twigs by Tie and some suitably trampy outfits chosen by Kitty, we turned up proudly bearing the title "Shagging in Bushes".

Tenuous? Perhaps, but we looked simply delightful, and I believe everyone was thrilled to see us.

A couple of months back, when she volunteered to host the shenanigans, Tymmerie asked me if I'd be prepared to hold our long-planned chocolate wrestling match during the party, for the amusement of onlookers. Make a spectacle of myself while dressing my avatar in very little? Hell yes.

I got to be Evil Wrestler while Tymmerie attempted to put me off by wearing spectacles and a baby in a sling. I was unmoved, and emerged victorious.

The loser's task is to write a post about the winner's blog, but I have a sneaking suspicion that, gracious host as she is, there was a certain amount of letting me win going on.

So I think it only fair that I do the same and give anyone who's not read Tymmerie's blog a brief introduction:

I was instantly hooked by her fantastic sense of humour - it's one of the few blogs to make me laugh out loud with every post. Whether offering a critique of kitchen-based sex toys or relaying a conversation with her mother about whether she looks like her avatar (still my all-time favourite post), Tymmerie's observations are liberally peppered with wit, attention to detail and a fabulous sense of the extraordinary. In fact, it amused me so much that I took to stalking her and, in one of my more successful stalking outcomes to date, am now proud to call her my friend.

Nowhere else will you read an interview with a prim bear and memoirs of living next door to Satan and, even if you did, I doubt you'd chuckle quite so much.

There's a link in my blogroll - I've given up putting them in the post as, for Blogger-related irritations, I can't make them a different colour without borking everything else. So scroll down a bit, click it there and prepare to be greatly amused.

Virtual probing

2008-04-19T15:16:00.008+01:00

Kitty posted a new meme, and I cannot be expected to resist. So here we go:

1. Who was the last person you spoke with?
WillowZ, regarding the possibilities of swapping biscuits for bits of wood and the best place to find orc quests. On LOTRO, obviously.

2. Who was the last person you saw at work?
Richard - with whom I spent a hectic day getting the latest issue of the magazine finished at the same time as preparing for two new focus groups. And then it snowed when we left. Typical.

3. Who was the last person to comment on your blog?
The wonderful Lorna, another fabulous ex-Summertimer!

4. Who was the last person you wrote a post about?
Technically Tie, as she inspired the one about sexing chickens.

5. Who was the last person you emailed?
I think it was Laura, but I've been deliberately ignoring my ever-increasing inbox the last couple of days.

6. Who was the last person you phoned?
DaddyC - I talk to one or other of the parentals almost every day on the way home from work.

7. Who was the last person to give you bad advice?
Kitty - she advised me to come with her to a store and, on arrival, my camera was zoomed up the backsides of two of the scariest avatars I ever did see.

8. Who was the last person to give you good advice?
Also Kitty, who advised me on a lovely trashy costume to wear for the SL Bloggers party tomorrow, during which I am to wrestle Tymmerie in a vat of chocolate. She is also in my good books for making a Pokemon card of me on the Mean Girls, which tickled me no end. I'm not sure that qualifies as advice, although it did encourage me to increase my cat collection, just in case challenged. She also devised a cunning quiz to help me work out what kind of costume would work best for me, which you can see here.

9. Who was the last person you kissed?
Not telling ;)

The Top 3 Peculiar Jobs

2008-04-15T12:26:00.006+01:00

Tie's response to my meme from the other day, in which she describes one of the oddest jobs I ever did hear of, got me thinking - in very strange ways, unsurprisingly. As a result, I have decided to present to you my Top 3 Peculiar Jobs, in ascending order:

3. Quoted from Tie's post: Selling catfood by cold calling - Mmmm that one was fun, though amazingly over the course of several months at least three people actually bought some.

2. My ex briefly took a job during his student days that involved pouring vats of poo down a hole. I don't actually wish he'd fallen in, but knowing he once came very close secretly pleases me.

1. My friend Tom had a similarly student-fuelled task of chicken sexing. Not as in "worrying" the chickens, as in blowing on their nethers and sorting them according to gender.

So what's the strangest job you've ever had? Can you top these stunning examples?

Fickle the Elf

2008-04-12T22:13:00.005+01:00

I think I can be forgiven my latest bout of fickledom, because a foray into Middle Earth is hardly a transgression that will surprise anyone. And, though I do have slight pangs of guilt for neglecting Spanky the Horse in World of Warcraft, I have now pledged my allegiance to Lord of the Rings Online.

Here is a snapshot of my Middle Earth holiday, for which Gandalf was kind enough to pose with me. The game is much like WoW except the graphics are phenomenal, the people are an awful lot friendlier, there's an epic storyline that runs concurrently with the plot we all know and love and I get to drool on Aragorn's toes. Oh and there are no Horde eejits to follow me around endlessly thwacking me. It's admirably entertaining, though I am displeased to report that Aragorn looks nothing like Viggo Mortensen.

As Russell Brand might say: nice to be an elf, 'citing.

p.s. Also big thanks to my Internet Guru, WillowZ, for once again preventing a flap and panic and helping me sort out what seemed impossible.

Freaky moment...

2008-04-09T19:09:00.002+01:00

Linkin Park
Originally uploaded by ·ĊЯФШ·

I was browsing my contacts on flickr today, to see what beautiful things people had made, when all of a sudden I came across a picture that looked really familiar - this one.

"Hey now!" I thought, indignantly. "Give me back my picture!"

Except it wasn't mine. Turns out that, of all the people in all the world and of all the seats in all the 17,000 person arena, one of my flickr contacts was practically sat on my lap at the Linkin Park gig in January. Who'd have thunk it?

4 things I'm grumbling about today

2008-04-07T00:30:00.004+01:00

Tagged...again...so I'm going to pretend I mind, shake my fist at Hatty and get on with it, with the full resolve of the English stiff upper lip. It's called "4 things", which I suspect is self-explanatory.

4 Jobs:
Shop assistant
Star Trek photo librarian (oh yes!)
Assistant editor (Mind Body Spirit)
Development editor (Open Your Mind)

4 Favourite Movies:
LOTR
Pan's Labyrinth
Stardust
Pirates of the Caribbean
(that one was horrible and I may come back and change it later, for I am fickle)

4 Places I've Been:
Cyprus, Spain, Holland and France

4 Places I've Lived:
Poole, Exeter, Mortlake and Richmond

4 Favourite TV Shows:
Battlestar Galactica
Buffy and Angel (cheating? Never)
24
Doctor Who
(watch this space for more sneaky changes)

4 Favourite Radio Shows:
Can't answer this, the only one I ever listen to is Radio 4's In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg

4 Favourite Foods:
Any pasta, cheesecake, roast meals and pizza

4 Places I'd Rather Be:
Egypt, Rome, LA or New Zealand

I'm tagging the lot of you, because I enjoy passing on the pleasure of a good grumble.

Twilight Magazine

2008-04-04T14:39:00.007+01:00

"Willow hasn't got enough to do in the day, I think she needs to add to her workload."

This was clearly the sentence uttered by my inner demon when I woke up the other morning to a message from Belmakor Pintens, amazing SL flickr artist and all-round lovely guy. Fortunately it was a very nice message and I'm rather pleased to be donating my time to it.

Along with various other flickrites, I've been invited to join Bel in a new venture: Twilight Magazine, a weekly SL-based magazine that showcases and highlights flickr art from the most talented artists on the grid.

Each issue, our panel of judges will nominate pictures, artists, sets and galleries and vote for who is to be featured. My job, as one of the writers, is to interview the talented wonders and find out how they make such masterpieces. Worryingly, I may be forced to gush.

I fiddled about with this snapshot of the staff until it was virtually unrecognisable (and I couldn't do it a second time, because I haven't the faintest idea what I did), but here we all are at our first gathering. That's me, third from the right, stood next to our dear editor, Bel. Ain't we a good-looking lot! We met at Grendel's, which is a very cool sim where dinosaur skeletons glide past you every now and again. Not your normal, everyday experience but definitely fun.

Now to go gush...

Earnest and important

2008-04-03T13:29:00.005+01:00

I am currently the wunderkind - child with a gold star and a loving pat on the head. It was my parent's pearl wedding anniversary on Tuesday, Mum's birthday on Wednesday and the anniversary of the day DaddyC proposed today. So, to make it a bit special for them (as they have a predilection for old farting and not getting round to celebrations), I decided to sort the arranging out for them.

So we went to see The Importance of Being Earnest at the Vaudeville on the Strand, starring Penelope Keith, after which I booked them a room at the Richmond Hill Hotel, overlooking the famous view over the river, which DaddyC has a soft spot for. MummyC was more interested in the fact she could see into The Wick from their room - Mick Jagger's house.

The play was fantastic, the parents really enjoyed themselves (as did I), Penelope Keith was wonderfully amusing and the actress playing Cecily - Rebecca Night, lead actress in the recent BBC adaption of Fanny Hill - turned out to be someone I knew when I was very very small.

That's me in the middle of this picture, in the rather fetching lemon dress (my nan made it) proudly clutching my ice cream, and the cute little bugger to my right, in the pink, is the aforementioned Cecily.

Now there's a fame claim for you.

Collage Addendum

2008-03-31T20:19:00.007+01:00

I know, I'm at it again with the two posts a day, but I just discovered this site - or rather, WillowZ discovered it through Ana and I exclaimed and followed her there - and thought I'd make a pretty collage. As you can see. Just my little friendly tribute, as you do.

Left to right (with a downward dip in the middle) that's me, WillowZ, SylvieGirl, me again, Laura and SmallerBorn. Frankly it's a toss-up as to which of us is the most adorable.

Ordering the phoenix

2008-03-31T18:30:00.004+01:00

Sometimes I wonder if I'm a teenage boy trapped in the body of a pushing-30 woman. The SLers™ (how I resent having to put that bloody ™ in) among you will not find this a strange concept, but that's by the by.

I have the musical taste of a teenage boy, I play the same computer games as a teenage boy and now, to top it all off, I've developed a bit of a thing for the most recent Harry Potter movie, which, as the observant among you will know, was one of the items on my surprise shopping list last week.

I can't get over how fantastic the effects are and how well they've told the story - the ones that came before this fifth installation were fairly good and the fourth is one of the movies I like to have playing in the background when I'm on the pc. But this one was the masterpiece and, as well as making magical effects look absolutely beautiful, brings across the darker tone of the later books very nicely. I shouldn't like it this much, but I do and that's that!

All of which makes me slightly concerned that I'm in the wrong body. Fortunately, I only need remind myself how much I enjoy playing Barbie dolls with my lovely, pretty avatar and dress her up in something ladylike with frills for all to be well again.

Until, of course, I remember that I also bought the pc game of the movie...

Cheese Addendum

2008-03-28T21:32:00.004Z

On her way to Mother & Toddler Group today, Laura parked in the nearby car park and walked off for a minute or two to buy a ticket. When she returned, there was a cheese slice on the bonnet.

(Apparently, this is nothing: a friend of hers once found a chippolata at the bottom of her cup of tea - and she'd made it herself.)

This emergency blog post was brought to you in an effort to make sure that snippet of comedy genius is not consigned to the mists of history. The mistory, if you will.

Apples falling from trees

2008-03-28T19:48:00.003Z

MummyC is an avid fan of shopping channels, so much so that poor DaddyC is forced to make constant trips to the Post Office. In fact, he is made to send back such an alarming number of unwanted items that rumour has it her habit costs upwards of £20 every day in postage.

Meanwhile, DaddyC has discovered eBay, onto which he sneaks every day to buy, sell, buy, sell, faff about then buy some more. I suspect that, when he grumbles about MummyC and her QVC passion, he is, in fact, calling the kettle black.

And then there's me. I have to tell you, I did not see this coming. But here we are, buried under an avalanche of things I don't remember ordering from Play.com, apparently in excitement over the lack of postage fee. I'm quite restrained in SL (shup -.-) but I seem to have begun having lapses of attention in the real world during which I spontaneously order Items I Do Not Need.

Over the past week or so, parcels have arrived unexpectedly on my doorstep containing items I have no memory of deciding I need. Transformers, Stardust, the full 3 series box set of Black Books, Mirrormask, Elizabeth, Atonement, Harry Potter 5, Neverwinter Nights 2, three adventure games, three books by Neil Gaiman and four books by Philippa Gregory.

I clearly need help, but the arrival of the postman is admittedly more exciting nowadays.

I also ordered Firefly, which I've only seen bits of before, but I was and remain a huge Buffy fan and appreciate Joss Whedon's touch and humour. Conclusion? I am a) in love with Nathan Fillion and b) in love with Firefly. Only two episodes left....ack. Am I too late to join the protest to get it back on the air?

New layout

2008-03-25T20:36:00.004Z

As I'm sure is fairly obvious, I've changed my blog layout, mostly through sheer boredom. Also I fancied something a little more girly. Do we like it or have I made a blundering error? Feedback, please!

p.s. I really must say a big thank you to WillowZ at this point, for spending a whole morning trying not to kill me while I failed to properly explain the problems I was having and made her trawl through at least six billion blog layouts trying to find one I'd like.

p.p.s. Also tempted to change the name...any suggestions?

Me and Angelina...

2008-03-25T12:54:00.005Z

Christ knows who Norkys Batista is, but I'm not going to complain about Angelina Jolie...

And I'm definitely not complaining about this one! 97% like Angelina? Marvellous.

I'm very interested to know whether we base our avatars on our own facial structures and characteristics, whether through familiarity or because we are our own basis for attractiveness (HA, not in that photo, thank you). So all I need to do now is find a way to test me against my avatar and get everyone else to do the same...