happeh noo yeerz

edit @3, january 09: NEW & IMPROVED (see update below).

hoorah! 2008's almost done. *beaming as if i achieved sump'n* wait... how the hell did that happen? i mean, the 2008 stuff? it seems like only yesterday when — nah, i ain't going there. anyway, thank fuckity fuck that this year — which actually found me working for a living (WTF?) — is finally over. naturally, the working bit made it all the worse, mainly since too many people (all of whom think they're teh funny) made the same crack when they learnt i was soiling my hands, working for a living. to a (wo)man, they all said, txtd or mailed sump'n to the effect of 'Where's SG and what did you do with her?'

the smrt ones thought they were being oh, so clever by sticking in my first name but their intent was loud and clear. in all truth, the working bit has its uses cause it serves to take my mind off other things, but we don't wanna go there either, now (or ever, actually). anyway, in the spirit of those awards when the person stands on a poorly decorated, cheapass podium holding some outrageously garish statuette that prolly weighs a tonne, first i wanna thank Daddy (RIP) and my mother and sister for laying the foundation that caused me to bolt way back when and made me what i am today (whatever that is). *whispers* it's too bad (for me) they didn't wait at least ten more years, but hey.

with that outta the way, Hunter and i wish youse all the best of bestest wishes for 2009, whether i know y'all in meatspace or not. i ain't gonna name names cause the last time i did, people were miffed at the order in which i remembered them and naturally, i forgot a few biggies so i'm not gonna even think of doing it tonight. hmmm... reading up it's obvious i have no idea what i'm talking about (yup, thass my normal) but i'm hoping this shit — the 'not naming names' stuff — at least pleases the majority. 

anyway, i've gotta double super-secret special Guest Star here, someone from Brixton who very reluctantly dragged his very fine ass waaaay the hell over here to Bristol, in order to enjoy the pleasure *snigger* or whatever of my company tonight (and to cook for me). i think i accidentally touched his pity gland, especially after threatening to cry myself to sleep (or Valium myself out) but my motto is Whatever Works *whispers* especially when it comes to Getting My Way. *snigger*

um... 'Now, where was I?' — right, happy new year and alla that. here's hoping 2009 is much better for The World (Obama!) and everybody in it than 2008. peace out, yo. :-)

NEWSFLASH! woo-hoooo! *happy grrl dancing* what a way to start and end the year: big hugs, kisses and congratulations to Dave and Electric Landlady. Dave: 'I asked and she said Yes' — and he got the Best Birthday Present Ever. as well, they made history in our snobby (oops, i mean) cosy little corner of the Alabama 3 cognoscenti: it'll be the First FreeA3 Wedding EVer and it couldn't happen to a more lovely couple than Dave and EL. Hunter and i are sending our biggest best wishes to you both along with all our love. *hearts*

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sulking in plain sight

on sunday morning i flew out of the hotel and was headed for the Tube to get back down to Chris' in Brixton when i glanced across Clapham Road and had to stop and take above pic (click for hugeassnessity). i hadn't the time to snoop around but when i got home i learnt it's 'the imposing St Mark's Church':

'St Mark's Church, opposite the Oval Tube station was one of the Waterloo Churches and finished in 1824...'

i love this bit: 'Just South of the River Thames, Kennington is famous for the Oval Cricket Ground today but in the 18th Century, it was notorious as a place of execution. The gallows stood on a site now occupied by St Mark's Church...'

a few hours later found Chris, Willie, Mr and Mrs Ifor the Engine, Pam and me having Sunday Noms at Mango Landing (on Brixton Hill? sump'n like that) and a good time was had by all *whispers* apart from the time and effort i spent trying to hide how drunk i got cause i was very tempted to make more of a fool of myself than i already had, but somehow my worser nature prevailed — i don't remember why. oh wow, just as i typed that, i remembered: it was cause i was booked to take the last coach from Victoria later on and there are always weirdos hanging round to take advantage of poor innocents like meh. *snigger*

Willie's txts kept me entertained most of the way home, so thank you VERY muchly, dude. after i said i was running low on battery so it was time for me to sign out, one of his last read: 'You cleaning cat shit yet? I won't rest easy until I know you are!' — hmmpf, Willie dude. :-) but in all honesty, after reading that, i got even more shouty, LOLing in my raucous, loud and crass American way. as usual, people stared and the ones i woke up had like daggers coming outta their eyes at me but i just stared back (if it were physically possible for me to raise an eyebrow, i would've but didn't cause i can't).

anyhoo, when i finally bopped in here about 02,30, i was pleasantly surprised to see Hunter hadn't shit the rugs. this is sump'n he's been doing the last four or five times i've spent a night or more away from home and i'm totally sure it's out of spite. but this time i'm so pleased to say he didn't and whether it's due to the plastic i'd pinned down on his usual spot before i left, or maybe he's maturing into Good Behavior Mode, i'll never know, but really don't care.

now i've got things to see and people to do, so please pardon if y'all find no context in anything here. that happens a lot cause i get so diverted so damn *hic!* easily. and for other *thwoop!* reasons like *snort* *pop* *drop* and *choke*, LOL. right, almost forgot: Happy New Year if i'm not around to post whatever nonsense i pull outta my ass each year. hmmm, it used to be like a tradition of sorts for me to upload my fave version of Mansion On The Hill every New Year's Eve but now that it's finally on sale, i totally won't. sorry (not really cause if y'all didn't snag it on prior new yearses, it's your loss; youse certainly had enough time to do so). *grins in a modest yet secretly superior manner* ;-) and if y'all don't think i'm messing about, youse don't know meh and my fucked sensa yooma. 

nb: the 'sulking in plain sight' is the most recent crime against my own humanity but naturally, i'm not at liberty to say anything apart from thank you, Christine. :-)

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happy LOL Christmas!!!11!!!!

me waiting? LOL, not really, but to everyone who stayed at Hotel Hunter and to everyone who shall stay with us here and even people i pretend to dig who'd never stay here in a thousand years, both Hunter and i happen to be in great moods at the moment, so we're wishing alla youse a happy holiday in a politically correct and/or nonsectarian way, whichever insults you the mos- least. :-)

right, and a very special Christmas, um... rather 'holiday' *snigger* wish to Christine and Michael for making my day — i'm still pissing my trousers, laughing my ass off thanks to all your excellent work. *smirk* x

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RIP Joe Strummer

i used to write a bit about Joe on my real site every year on this day and how much i still missed him or i'd get to strolling down memory lane and think on those wondrous riots we put on in Times Square when learning the PTB so very stupidly booked The Clash at Bond's for only one night (y'all can see Joe's T-shirt silkscreened with the front page of the NY Post when we made the headlines).

thanks to our misbehavior or whatever, that one gig turned into ten days (or two weeks; i don't remember and in too much of a hurry to get back to work so forget about me Googling — you do it). anyway, it was a magical time for me and i'm proud to say i was up in the frontlines every night, thanks to the power of Walter Yetnikoff (then-head of CBS Records), someone with whom i was forced to work way back when, when i was with those rock & roll attorneys.

or else i'd talk about the shock i got back in Christmas '02 when i first learnt of Joe's death... we were in the States visiting family for the hols; i'd gone online to check my mail and found someone — i think Nomad — had posted Joe was gone. or i'd get into the night Daddy gave me this really old, heavily embossed ('Special Edition') bottle of Champagne, after he learnt i'd been invited up to their hotel, thanks to my job. he'd already had Sandinista! coming out of his ears by then cause i'd bring the cassette with me every time i visited, but still... he knew what The Clash meant to me and wanted me to bring em sump'n special.

we'd been sitting around that night, shooting the shit in the hotel and then laughed our asses off cause after we got the damn bottle open, it'd turned to vinegar cause the cork was fucked. yup, i've got Clash in NYC stories up the wazoo but a lot of them are personal and i really don't wanna share. one thing i do wanna share but can't — it's the photograph i took of them after yet another of their infamous Bond's gigs. i don't have a scanner and keep forgetting to have it done but one of these days i will.

anyway, RIP Joe, dude... wherever you are. it's been six years but you're still very sadly missed. :-(

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so sayeth Dr Seuss

as usual, most of the shite i spew has a double — or triple — meaning (and a long, frequently pointless, rather unnecessary backstory). with that in mind (or not; i don't care), i give you the lovely Dr Seuss quote below. but before i do, please keep in mind: i was never a Dr Seuss fan cause i felt he was way too corny, even when i was a child.

anyway, here's the run-up to finding the quote. BTW, feel free to skip this stuff, and get down to the bolded text below. moving right along, last night i hit a 90 on Twit-Grader and that shit totally amazed me; for once, i won't again get into the Whys; suffice it to say, the words 'crazy' and 'watching' come to mind. oh, and 'trainwreck', LOL.

OK, 'Woke Up This Morning, got myself a g'— WAIT. nah, i WUTM, checked Twitter and was surprised to see i'd lost over 20 followers and wondered if it was sump'n i said. *snigger* then i checked my recent twits and couldn't find anything really outrageous. for ages now, i'd actually been thinking at what point would people wake up and realise they were following a crazy person (at best) but when i checked my list of followers, i saw the spammers had been removed — good riddance and thank fuck for that. then i checked my Twit-grade (lost 4 points). oh, boo fucking hoo! *weeps crocodile tears*

but this turned out to be a Very Good Thing cause i was in the midst of my first deadline of the day and i'm always up for killing time (think My Way) so i figured i'd take the opportunity to go through my followers, something i hadn't done in ages. lo and behold, i saw some clever, interesting people and immediately clicked to follow them back. the first three who come to mind offhand are Miz Helena (Australia!), 9Keme (DE!) and Modern Maven whom i think is Stateside, but i'm not sure. either their sites, twits or one-line bios resonated within, for various reasons, and i scanned their front-page twits and found this Seuss quote, thanks to MM.

'Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter, don't mind'.

LOL, iz stawree of mai lief, akshually. oh and before i forget, big thanks to people who think i'm dead when i'm not here for more than a day — i do appreciate your concern or joy — it matters not. :-)

whoa, almost forgot two things: 1) being a total logophile, i was quite pleased when i read one of 9Keme's twits today, here: 'Liminality is the basis of community, the process of losing a piece of you and gaining integration; like a personality flux between IDs'. and even more pleased (not quite 'happy' but a bit above 'glad') after wiki-ing the concept here, so thanks again, dude. :-)

2) i've made some LOLCats to illustrate 'Holy Blood' just in time to 'Keep those Christmas lights on in your head' — but since i'm never satisfied (not sexually speaking, just not 100% pleased with those i've done), i've gotta work on a few. as well, i'm sorely tempted to upload the first version of 'Holy Blood' with Larry Love singing solo. this is totally not to say, i don't dig Zoe singing it (cause i do; i love her and her voice as well as the flavor of 'Holy Blood' released on M.O.R). 

but: a) it's really not mine to give away. keep in mind i can't count the times i've asked for permission to upload whatever Alabama 3 tune and the essence of D Wayne's or Larry's answers have basically been 'I don't give a fuck' — which was exactly what i wanted to hear; and b) if i should do this, y'all better snag it cause i've worked out exactly who's been naughty or nice — oopsy, i mean who's been not only streaming it from my real site but playing it without downloading to their machines first, so if i ever upload more music, rest assured it'll be on a very limited timeframe; sump'n like a day or two. naturally i'll give ample warning (or maybe i won't). *giggles* *shrugs shoulders* *waves backhandedly in that 'puh!' ('i don't give a shit') gesture*

LOL, Punkt, Ende. :-)

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*yawn* what the fucking fuck?

why am i awake at fuck o'clock in the morning? grrrrrr.... whilst lying in bed up to ten minutes ago, i went through the usual suspects, things that'll wake me up way too early. stuff like Hunter on my head? (nope) ahhh, *giggle* when he wants me to wake up, he sits next to my pillows and gently taps my eyelids with his paw — it's SO fucking cute! (and 'One step closer to the grave... the box that awaits us all', oops, sorry for the Alabama 3 Tourette's; i meant one step closer to Old Ladyland). right, things that wake me up too early: must-have-a-pee? (nope); guilty conscience? (nope. well kinda, sorta, but let's move on); hunger? (nope); spoing? (nope, but i wish). anyway, i rolled over alla those and more but still couldn't figure out why in fuckall my eyelids flew open so damn early, in the dark.

after like fifteen minutes'd gone by (without the usual falling back to sleep stuff happening), i took the bedside flashlight and read my Skull Alarmclock and almost flipped when it said 04-something. anyway, y'all might as well skip the rest of this shit; the content is totally stream of (un)consciousness and not worth the reading.

having said that, i'm in a baaaad mood, a really bad mood (beware my wrath! *giggle*). it just occurred: maybe i ain't sleepy cause i crashed so early last night? but it really wasn't that early (well, it was early for me: i fell out about 22,30 after watching Ballad of the Sad Cafe with Vanessa Redgrave speaking in the worst Southern accent i've ever heard but apart from that, the film was really good). but back to meh, FFS, I DIDN'T EVEN GET SIX HOURS! yup, i'm all shouty cause i just counted it up and i've been sleeping at least 7-8 hours every night for a few weeks now. hmmpf... i used to be able to sleep half my life away, like 12-14 hours a day but living with a workaholic will cure anyone of that shit.

dammit, is sleeping six hours asking too much? bloody hell! *yawn* i actually wish i had some work to do... i don't feel like twitting cause i'm in such an awful mood, i might end up insulting people (Innocent Victims). like, i already looked at last night's back pages: those who twat whatever after i crashed. i do this shit every morning, to see if i can engage anyone in micro-convo (and hopefully make em laugh or whatever), but no, 'No fish today, Mr Dope Fiend...' arrgh, soz for even more D Wayne Love/Alabama 3 Tourette's. anyway, looking on Twitter, there's plenty of material i could stick my 2p in but why dis people online, in public like, just cause i feel like beating everyone up?

those i found who'd said something to which i could twit back were all innocent people and why catch em in my line of fire? i mean, why take my shite sleeping habits out on them? like if i knew em in meatspace, i could try to mess around but Chris is the only one i know in TRW but his last twit was like the day before yesterday or friday or sump'n (i think). wait, there's Jane and Dave and Boudicca and Crowjake and a few others but they're not up yet and Boudicca's not been online lately. Chris? he's not twat since friday, i think, though i've gotten mail from him marked 04,00 recently and even if he were up at this ungodly hour, it's prolly cause of work and he'd be in no mood to play with me.

*yawn* i wish i had some coke, actually. *musing*

OK, teh funny re Twitter: since Twit-grader was born (and after my first fear was calmed: that it'd turn the app into yet another damn popularity contest), i've been on an upward trajectory, then topped out at 87 for a week or two, then went to an unprecedented 89 the other day. whilst working last night, i remembered about it, graded myself again (ANYthing to put off that fucking chemistry editing) and LOL'd to see that even though there are two or three new people following me since yesterday my grade went down 4 points (to 85) overnight. wait, gonna check it now... *wanders off for more coffee* OK, i'm back at 89 *snigger* but fuck knows where i'll be whenever anyone cares to check the link.

i think this's funny as well although i've already talked it to death in prior posts: when i began, i failed to take a screenshot but thought i remembered i was at 41. then when weeding out mai mailz, i found one to Chuck that said i was at 39. anyway, i began taking screenshots a few days later and my first was 41 at the beginning of october (i'll dig up the details later, IIR). why am i saving these screenshots? cause i'm really interested in how quickly Twitter's caught on and i know myself enough to know i dig checking these things and the only way i'll remember is by keeping the damn screenshots. anyway now, at 89, i'm 36,680 out of 601,824. yes, i'm intristed in virtually useless things like that, iz stawree of mai lief, akshually.

right, someone who's twat nothing but decent procrastination links began to follow me yesterday. i scanned his page and immediately pinged him (or her but i think it's someone with a penis) and asked 'do you ever twat What Are You Doing?' cause although a few of his twits looked like fun, he revealed nothing of his personality and AFAIC, i've got my own collection: hundreds of links gathered over the last dozen or so years, Links To Procrastinate By, some of which are classics and alla which are bookmarked; truly Piss Your Trousers Laughing stuff like Robin Williams on How Scots Invented Golf. um... thanks Babe (he sent me that yesterday cause i'd forgotten to save it).

in happier days (we all know what that means — think Peter), i'd do a weekly round-up of these and — whoa, totally forgot about this: on my real site i had a category called Procrastination Nation. *sigh* 'categories'... i miss em all and totally miss Rock Around The Clock. Chris named it when we were still in Bonn and everytime i'd upload an Alabama 3 tune or whatever, it'd be filed under that. and that title has two meanings (of course); the overt one's the description (any post with an .mp3 uploaded) and the other's more covert: one of our fave NYC restaurant's called that. hmmpf... 'Categories'... fucking LCD blogger and it's bastard child, blogspot... *to self* why oh why did i not go with Wordpress? anyway, the dude never got back to me — 'And that's cool, man' — just like when i used to message new followers to ask em why they're following me, cause — big duh! — i really wanna know. anyway, none of them ever replied.

that's why i finally gave up asking, but AFAIC, it's amazing to me that people will go out of their ways to read my (a stranger's) twits, decide to follow me and then not respond when asked why, not even to say 'cause i dig watching trainwrecks especially right before and on up to The Main Event'. as well, i think it's totally rude not to reply or even acknowledge and if they're thinking i'm one-a those who blindly and obediently follow others back in return, well... *snigger* they've got another think coming.

wait, just remembered: i read some article last week but i'm too lazy to go back, find and link to it. naturally it was about Twitter (cause i dig knowing the ins and outs of whatever it is i'm on. i'm pretty much knowledgable (sp? *yawn* who gives a fuck?) about the drugs but the apps i use? i'm always up for learning and drilling down for those little details that give me some insight. anyway, after the piece there was a little survey, one of the questions being 'Do you follow all those back who follow you?' after i clicked on 'NO', i was able to view the results (they made a cute, colorful liddle bar graph) and was amazed to see so many lemmings, i mean so many said Yes. i was all WTF?, especially after i randomly clicked on them, read a bit of their bios and was even more gobsmacked to realise some of these were clever people with lives and stuff.

i won't say what's really on my mind now, mostly cause in all actuallity it's unforgettable and here's where i try to note down stuff i might wanna recall in future along with when whatever happened... y'know: stuff i'd forget otherwise (like, i know i'm gonna wanna remember exactly when Chris's BRB page at my real site was hacked and i sent out those massive mails). LOL, just remembered a 'heh' regarding those two mails i bombarded out to almost everyone i know:

as usual, i BCC'd people and To'd 'undisclosed-recipient' at my domain and i remember thinking not only would the mails be a way to Reach Out And Touch Someone, but maybe, just maybe, people would quit fucking putting my addy on their mass mails and BCC (at least) me. i mean, how do you think i got so many of your addys? from stealing them off others' mails, of course. it's one of the benefits of Aspie-dom, the detail-oriented shite that's no biggie to meh but a big whoop for others. *smirks, sniggers, yawns* anyway, IMO my mail served two purposes and i even heard back from my old friend Burrell in LA, hooray! :-)

wait... what was i- right, i won't say what's really on my mind cause it's always lurking back there. helpful hint: it's my opinion of strangers who follow meh (another: think 'trainwreck of my life'). of course i could be wrong, but hey... that 'wrong' shit doesn't happen often. ;-)

edit at 07,52: *giggle* i hear the neighbors walking round on the ceiling so naturally, i'm gonna turn up the music. if you happen to live in my house or my street, get ready cause the 1812 Overture's about to come blasting into your hearts, your minds and your ears cause AFAIC, it's the best way to wake me up in a drugless manner.

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i blame Sod, actually }-(

earlier this AM, i twat this, this and this, then sent out mass mail about my shock at seeing my BRB page hacked. hmmpf... a few of youse seem to have changed your addys cause mai mailz came rite back at meh. Dragnim, you're one-a those — i'm sadly surprised you didn't send your new one so naturally, i shall torment you via nasty txts when i'm done tossing this off. LOL, grrrrr.

OK, *sigh* someone (prolly another 'bot) hacked the above; the beautiful and oh-so-meh page Chris built after my real site went down last Summer. he checked it out early this morning and said they were only using it to send spam and it was only the hosting and not the domain but why leave something akin to an open invite for 'bots built to crawl the Web looking for openings and vulnerabilities like that?

i would've caught it earlier but haven't been there since i removed most of the music last month cause the usual cheapskate dipshits (and even more, newer mp3 sites) were streaming straight from me instead of uploading to their shites. i mean how many fucking times do i have to write 'please R-click and Save'? and then there're the usual suspects but i expect it of them. the thing of it is, for the past two months, i got mail saying my bandwidth was gone (for the month), but since it happened like a day before the end of october and whatever other month, i just let it go, thinking if i can turn on just one more person to A-3 Acoustic flavor or Alabama 3 in their entirety, it'd be worth it.

if you've been there lately, no need to be alarmed by the prior and now gone warnings — the essence of which were 'visiting this site may harm your computer; suspected malware' — i fucking totally freaked (as only i can) when i saw that shit. grrrrrr! *snap*

then i took my URL off my sig in mails, took off RIP Dateline: Bristol from Reservoir Dogs, took off the shameless self-promo links at right, switched browsers from Safari to Camino (on which i'm posting now) and took off my URL from every other place it appears. then i checked rimone.org one more time, to copy and paste the horrendous warning and lo and behold saw my beee yewww teeee ful BRB page back again, hoorah! but i was puzzled and pinged Chris to ask my usual WTF and WHY? and how? and all the other things i wanna know when i'm confused. he mailed right back:

'I edited out the crap the hundspfotze put in the page to generate that warning (which, BTW, was from Google Analytics — which the hundspfotze added to the page — warning you about the malware the hundspfotze was trying to distribute via the page). 'So it's just vanilla HTML, and there's no PHP on the server for them to attack'.

thanks VERY muchly, Babe — please know i appreciate you doing this for me when i know how busy you are; yup, over the weekend as well. think: 'the fun never ends...'. |-( BTW, i got the gist of 'hundspfotze' from the context, but Babelfished it and then Googled to get a more exact meaning. as i said in my 2nd mass mail (basically saying 'never mind' to the first and apologising for the confusion), i came up with nothing meaningful, but i'm guessing 'hundspfotze' is akin to — wait for it — DOG FELCHERS. *proudtard*

*musing mode* if i were in the mood to re-enter meatspace (and didn't have a 17,00 deadline today), i'd actually be standing on the corner, screaming that shit out, just as i did when i was a liddle kid in NYC and saw a new filthy word written on whatever wall. well, when whatever forbidden word was new to me. fun fact 1: when i was three, i stood on Amboy Street in Brooklyn with my mother, shouting 'SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!' over and over and over again.

after my sister was born, i read the word 'fuck' somewhere and one sunny day, my mother had The New Baby in an old-time 50s carriage (rubber wheels, no plastic anywhere, like that). the second we got outside, i let out a tremendously shouty 'FUCK!' and was prepped to continue but she nipped that shit in the bud when she smacked me. usually, i wouldn't STFU and tell her it didn't hurt or anything but i got a feeling that the power of 'fuck' was much more deadly than the power of 'shit', so i shut it then and there. *snigger* but i never forgot.

*all shouty* 'DOG FELCHERS! DOG FELCHERS! DOG FELCHERS!'

'Am I wrong?' *in a John Goodman voice* nb: if i'm wrong, i'll be back to correct but naturally i'm hoping i'm right. and now back to work. wait — fun fact 2: i had no feelings regarding the entire subject of Chemistry before two tuesdays ago. now i've come to hate it and i actually feel a bit diminished in a 'my soul's being sucked out and my fucking mind's totally numb' kinda way. whoa, totally forgot i must fuck with my Reservoir Dogs and re-submit the links i removed a few hours back as well as juggle things around whilst hoping i'm in a work-y condition after i'm done. i blame Sod actually, for all this needless bullshit but hey: it could be worse, much much worse. ps, message to Chris: big thanks again, d00d. :-)

holy shit and whoa! i just fixed the links and clicked on the last, the one inviting all the bored to read my old writty. it's still there sans my real site behind it (Chris' gorgeous and way usable design which was so easy to navigate, even the stupidest of teh stoopit would know how to get around, intuitively). hmmm...

i feel virtually naked, actually. in other news, i have screenshots which i'll prolly upload in the very near future in a shameless effort to get people to read the political me as well as show off that which Chris built. *sigh* i miss the drunken trollup, the random quote generator and the kitty's head the most as well as my entire real name which NRN stands for. LOL, so many people missed that when it was live even though it was staring them right in the face (and y'all know meh: i saved all the mails sent, asking about it). *snigger*

update at 18,38: i'm stealing time from my boss but who cares? once again, it's Corrections Time and that's more important: Sheriff Crowjake mailed to say that hundspfotze or whatever meant 'dog's cunt'. personally i dig 'dogfelcher' much moar better but hey — i'm just sayin'.

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LOL, i'm (still) aliiiiive!

yup, i'm still here and i wanna give big thanks to everyone who's mailed over the last week asking how i am and why no Tawdry, but i've been busy as all hell, still editing this fucking soul-sucking chemistry textbook and as i've said muchly, to do it right, i'm forced to read up on chemistry. what makes it all worse is i must do it totally straight and without music on cause i get distracted way easy. *cough* 1, 2, 3, all together now: 'Ooh look! A dog with a fluffy tail!' *in a Homer voice*right, above pic's what i saw the other afternoon when i casually looked out the window, then ran like hell for my cameraphone to capture it.

in brief and as i've been saying for the last few months, y'all can find me on Twitter most days when i'm taking a break or not working. in all actuallity, i've been busting my ass editing (something i never really did before: bust my ass over any job). amazingly to me, my last Twitter-grade was 89 this morning (when i began grading myself, my first was a lowly liddle Reverend-ish 39). AFAIC, this is shocking: that over a hundred real, normal people with real normal lives and/or people with influence of some sort in whatever field (like Stephen Fry, one of the few alive today whose garment's hem i wanna kiss as well as wash his feet with my hair). anyway, i'm like fucking gobsmacked they actually read my boring attention-whoring twits e.g., '*singing* woke up this morning, got myself a calendar; counting down the days of fear & loathing till 1. jan; only 19 sleeps till it's over'.

before i forget, it's biffday time so a very belated but heartfelt Happy Birthday to Sheriff Crowjake dude up in Manc (9. december); Happy Birthday to the Coat (yesterday in Bedfordshire) and Happy Birthday, Christine (tomorrow, somewhere on the Pacific Coast in the States). and once again, Happy Birthday, Lazybones. Darren, the lazy fuck, oops (sorry, i keep think i'm talking to myself and it's obvious i still haven't quite gotten the knack of keeping the quiet bit in) sent me this next after last sunday night's wondrous gig:

'Talia and me have been playing "Where's Wally?" (Rimone) by freezing the videos in the (below) links. We've been looking for your red hair when the lights shine on the crowd. Hours of endless fun, lol. from Talia and Darren!!!'

anyway, they're here and here. i haven't the words but it looks like my lowdown, gutter-crawling (through the muck), nasty slummy powers have expanded when i'ze not been aware of it. *snigger* wheeee, feel the power! ;-)

in other news, Becky (my hairdresser) saw the photos Michael's submitting for his entry in the Role Models Exhibit in London and told me: 'You looked fucking great!' — when i went by to collect em, Michael was home sick (he's not online) so i haven't seen em yet. anyway, i must switch browsers now (long story, no time) but i shall be back to add to this with the usual caveat: if i remember. *snigger* oh, and if my boss-dude, the one who's feeding me work, doesn't send me shit to do this weekend. *entire body crossed* we'll see and all.

right, before i split, please do me and yourselves a favor and check out my newest and very addictive guilty pleasure (Chris turned me onto it and it's also the newest 'shameless self-promo' link at R, under Reservoir Dogs): The Ten Word Review. it's where you'll find me when not at Twitter and not on FreeA3 (here's my Ten Word Review page) and for whatever weirdass fucked algorithmic reason, the wiki description on my page is one of L Ron Hubbard and Scientology. *cough* LOL, WTF?

in all truth, ages back, i briefly dipped my toes into the realms of Scientology and Dianetics, deep enough to know the score and then took off, after i got what i wanted outta them i.e., i kicked my then-current addiction using their facilities and lo and behold, they ended up giving me the job of ... wait for it ... 'Ethics Officer'. right, i LOL'd then as i'm LOLing now just thinking on it, but i was a good Ethics Officer actually; i was in charge of all these ex-criminals way older than i as well as being responsible for a small crew of wealthy, spoilt little kids and teenagers whose parents were fooled into taking the Scientology route.

before i forget, this crucial editor's note: a few weeks back i talked about Stevie's lovely birthday party at the Half Moon in London and said i chatted with the beautiful and talented '...Jane Ruby of Naked Ruby fame (Mr Pixie used to manage them). i took this crap camera-pic when Chris and i went to London to see them...' it's corrective surgery time, thanks to mail from Chris:

'We saw Naked Ruby @ the Grosvenor, and I was already living in London at the time'.

dude! you already know what a bad memory i have but thank you muchly for giving me a bit of the reality i so sorely lack. moving right along, back to The Ten Word Review, i love it; AFAIC, it's yet another exercise in brevity (after failing miserably at Twitter which at first i mistakenly assumed would help me hone down my longwinded bullshit). but what killed me is, i went by there last night after link-whoring to my Cheeze Toasteys recipe. it was only after i posted that particular twit when i remembered i'd already link-whored it in some prior twit (twice? thrice? MOAR? *embarrassed*), but by then it was too late. *to self* hmmm... i could always delete it (but a good attention-whore doesn't do shit like that — they ram whatever down people's throats until the poor souls beg for mercy).

OK, here's one of the biggest LOLs i got all week (apart from slipping into hilarity mode many times at the totally fantastic Alabama 3 gig in Bristol) and i'm copying/pasting from here: 'it's come to my attention that one of the old FreeA3.com Congregation has been telling others s/he's "the one SG hates" and takes it as a point of pride. *smirk* fuckin' amazing, LOL.

'after i finished LMAO i asked if this person said why (s/he thinks i hate) cos in all fairness and in all truth, i don't hate you, in fact, after your manipulative antics over 5 years back, i've hardly thought of you at all; the first time in years was recently when told the above...' read the rest and pity the poor soul who thinks it's a totally hotshit thing to be 'hated' by meh. *snigger*

right, i got a bit lost after i went off on Cheeze Toasteys above (cause after rereading it, i found typos and other errors i totally missed when publishing; things that wouldn't have got me the proofreading and editing gigs by which i earn my living), so continuing with The Ten Word Review (where one can review ANYthing, including people), i almost shit a brick last night when reading someone's review of meh (someone who calls him/herself kelticgrasshopper). dig: 'The most self-absorbed person I ever met. Quote the goddess!'

first of all, thank you, kelticgrasshopper, whomever you may be. but very unfortunately, y'all got it wrong and since i'm totally into attribution, i was forced to correct and posted 'the most self-absorbed person I ever met' quoth the Dragnim'. i'm actually waiting for the hordes to sign up to dis me but hey, i'm used to it, iz stawree of mai lief, akshually. *smirk*

all in all, i'm totally with Oscar Wilde: 'There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about'. Punkt, Ende.

editor's note: i shall be back ASAP, IIR, to stick in liddle LOLCats i've made but only if my browser permits me; for some strange reason, though i can upload em, they won't appear in the appropriate place (i'm using Camino ATM and i usually use FF). in other news, i just got mail from Boss-dude, asking how i am. i think he's like putting out feelers or whatever, to see if i'm up to working this weekend and though i can use the money, lately i've been more and more tempted by the chemicals in the stashbox on my coffeetable, just waiting for me to drop em cause i've been convincing myself that i'd be able to absorb chemistry-reading much better when i've got the proper stuff in my system.

which chemicals? think: Monday Don't Mean Anything *singing*. the only problem with that shit is, i just might get a bit too happy to even wanna edit or do any other work; that's the only reason why i've stayed straight whilst working up to now... but it's almost as if they're calling me and youse know me: i'm always up for 'experimenting' (heh) with teh drugz, y'know: just to see what'll happen. :-)

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Alabama 3 in Bristol

this one's for Mississippi Outlaw who didn't make it over the Atlantic to Hotel Hunter for sunday night's fantastic Alabama 3 gig, unfortunately not 'there when they crucified the Lord'. :-( if you click for hugeass engorgement, you'll see Sir Eddie Real ('Knighted by the Queen of England') rushing over in a blur with the halo for Freebase. big thanks muchly for the photo, Darren. *love*

i shall be back with details and gossip on who stayed with me and what went down here, at the gig and at the afterparty... well, all the details about which i dare speak. needless to say, we were up in the frontline, directly in the centre and IMO it was their Best. Bristol Gig. EVar partially cause the Very Reverend D Wayne Love did my attention-whoring for me when he leaned over and took my hand. *preens* and it was made even better the next morning when Lazybones Darren brought a lit-tle present the good Reverend asked him to pass along to me.

i'm feeling withdrawels right now cause All the Spoing is Gone... but it could be worse. LOL, stay tuned. :-)

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some bullshit i just made up

after i first posted above pics (the day i fucked up the first photo-shoot by making Michael, the photographer, laugh too much), i sent them over to Chris. his reaction? *cough*

'You no longer have any grounds for making fun of anything anyone else wears. Ever'.

he prolly has a point... anyway, i'm busy as a lit-tle bee over here, and been like this since shit o'clock this morning, trying to transform my liddle den of iniquity into something resembling a decent household in readiness for my guests tomorrow before Alabama 3 play Bristol. :-) but as usual, i thought i'd take a loooong break and since i have such a big mouth (and nobody to bore face-to-face), here i iz. *snigger*

OK, part of getting ready for guests has to do with hiding all the good stuff. i got it all out of sight but made the mistake of forgetting the Absinthe on the sofa, under the steely-eyed gaze of the only sentient being i can trust in my flat.



next time i looked? 'twas gonnnnne, bay-beh and Bear was in no state to speak; he wouldn't even look me in the eye. here he is as i found him, totally konked out and ass up:



lo and behold, amidst the dusting and polishing and shit, THIS is what i just found:



the problem is, Bear's of age: he's like 20 years old. Hunter? he's only 3. i tried to tell him i could get into shitloads of trouble (i could even get popped if someone told the cops) but would he listen? HAH! *in an Edna Krabapple voice* (and i have scratch marks going all the way up and down my arms to prove it). it took awhile, but i finally wrestled the bottle away from him. here he is, sleeping it off. as usual, click for engorgement.



i figured he needed some kinda punishment but since i don't believe in smacking animals around, i just kinda poked him and said 'now that's called a hangover. what you have...' he heard me and opened his eyes for a second...



...then he gave me 'a look' *shudder* and went:




i was all 'why blame me? i dint make you get drunk' but he sat there pretending i wasn't around. then it was time to collect Pam so i left him alone, hoping he'd cool off and his hangover would go away in due time. Pam and i trudged back with fudz for ar no- i mean, we brought ingredients and stuff back from the market, came in and Hunter was all nice to me again. he said:



i said 'I'll think about it'. but he was gud, i mean he was very polite and shit and only tried to bite poor Pam like twice (thrice?) when she made the mistake of waving her hand around, describing stuff. then i calmed him quite nicely by reading his fayvrit stawr- favorite poem, The Raven, in LOLCat speek of course (thank you, MaryMary and Topchick). Hunter loves to hear it:

'Once upon afternoon, Iz thinkded time to move self soon
An getz off teh couch to look outz door
Butz then I starts to kitteh napping,
if teh dawg wud quit hiz wagging
Every time hiz tail hits teh floor.
I iz annoyed an nuffin more...'

wheeee, i've got no idea what i'm babbling about. Pam's here, tomorrow there's gonna be Lazy, Dave, Electric Landlady, Mr and Mrs Ifor the Engine, Chris, Goa Advice Centre and i forget whom else and tomorrow night we see the band again, SPOING!

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can't talk...too busy... *snore*

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz — whut? 5 more minutessszzz *snorkle* zzzzzz — huh? oh gawd, NO! just lemme sleeeepzzzzzzzzz... *snore* zzzzzzzz — argghhhhh! OK, OK, i'm back... (no no no no NO!) been editing chemistry for 3 days straight which means i gotta read up on chemical crap to do it right.



so this week, i've been going outta my mind, trying to absorb shite i have no business knowing, stuff i'm never gonna use in TRW and the worst thing was, i hadda stay straight (mostly) without music on. and dig it: today? more chemistry! oh joy... NOT. :-(

Stevie's birthday thing at the Half Moon on sunday seems like the distant past, amazing and i'm so glad i went. Stevie was pleased i came in just for her and that surprised me — of course i did — i wouldn't have missed it for the world. i go 'it's only like 120, 130 miles!' and they're like 'OMG! 120 miles!' *snigger* it's like no big whoop: arrive at 16, 35 or 17,00 or whatever and the last Shame Train's the 23,30 back home.

anyway, i took the above as Pam and i were approaching the pub, we bopped in and it was lovely (weak word) to see Stevie, Fluffy, Pam, Angie, Hannah, Melvin and a group of other people i see around Coldharbour Lane, but since i have visions of goddamned Periodic Tables of Elements and shit dancing in my head, i can't remember their names. *to self* 'See what happens, Larry? This is what happens when you fuck a stranger in the a-' — i mean, see what happens when i don't write shit down in my Pal- Touch, rather... and my friends make fun of me when i do. grrrrr...

zzzzzzzzz... shit! — what was... — i'm so fucking tired and the boring subject matter makes it worse, dammit — right, at Stevie's it was almost impossible for me to talk to everyone for as long as i'd want (heh) but i did get to briefly chat with Angie (ages since i saw her), Lara (Larry Love's ex) and also Jane Ruby of Naked Ruby fame (Mr Pixie used to manage them). i took this crap camera-pic when Chris and i went to London to see them (they were great; as a matter of fact, Alabama 3 acoustic flavor was playing the same night but we chose to see Naked Ruby instead). here's Jane onstage:



about the Serial Bitch on top, i totally related to it when i first saw it — that was one of the lovely paintings on the wall of the venue where we saw Naked Ruby (which, of course, i forgot the name of right now). anyway, after Stevie's party, Fluffy and i took the bus back to Brixton and we had a nice, long talk then kissed g'bye outside of the station and she headed home whilst i headed to Victoria. OK, here's Hunter about 20 minutes ago, reminding me my first deadline's at noon. please notice the nasty look in his eyes.



y'all can't see it but he was at my left, sitting on the desk, nudging me along cause my 2nd deadline's at 17,00 later on. i haven't even gotten to Michael's studio and the photo-shoot or Michael's other artwork of which i have a few pics but no time. right, almost forgot: talked to Marianne in Dublin last night; she's in the midst of moving house but we blabbed on and on. she was way drunk (and MonDay'd? quite possibly) and i'd just decided to take a brief break and have a few tokes so we were both pretty messed up and trading the past few months' of Brixton and Dublin gossip and laughing our fucking asses off for almost an hour. *snark* *snigger* *snarf* right, that's your snarf, Marianne. :-)

anyway, it's obvious i'm procrastinating both working and continuing to clean up here cause i'm gonna have a flatful of people staying over for Alabama 3 in Bristol sunday night. Pam'll be first to arrive tomorrow (and she's gonna cook me dinner, hoorah!) and then, as usual, people will come drifting in throughout the day, we'll get verily fucked up and i'll have a chance to practise my shite social skilz with people i already know. baby steps... from friends to the Community outside PDSA. ;-)

here's Hunter one more time with a cogent message, something for y'all to remember when youse think of me.

ps, message to Chris: hewwooooooooooo! xoxoxoxox

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ti-iiime ain't on my side

*singing* tiiii-iiii-iime ain't on my si-ide; yes it is (no it ain't). gah, it's obvious i'm rushing around (yes, like a moron) cause i've got so much to say but so much work to catch up on first and priorities dictate i need to finish the work ASAP. thanks to some lovely mails complaining 'Where are you, SG?' and 'Why no Tawdry lately?' i'm taking a short breather from the editing &c (and from Twitter, though it's difficult) cause i slept for twelve straight hours today. in fact, i'm actually having my 3rd and last daily Wake The Hell Up coffee right now, sump'n i'm usually done with by 11,00 at the very latest.

i'll be back to talk about Stevie's lovely party at the Half Moon in London on sunday night, yesterday's photo-shoot with Michael and other sundry things as soon as i can (along with the usual cameraphone illos) but right now, no time for anything apart from saying above pic was taken the minute i got home last night. if you R-click and open in a new tab, it'll be larger.

after i took the pic, i tried for a close-up of the fabulous make-up job Michael did on me but failed miserably. plus, in the 5 minutes' walk from his studio back to mine, the lovely spikey job he did on my hair totally wilted thanks to the high level of humidity in Bristol, but hey, i can live with that. *snigger*

be good, boys and grrls... remember, i'm watching and i'll definitely know (kinda like Santa but not). i won't go 'don't do what i wouldn't do' cause everyone who knows me knows that means you can do EVERYthing and that's the way it should be. :-)

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happy birthday, Stevie

i'm off to London in a coupla hours to spend the evening with Stevie and friends. details tomorrow since i'm rushing my head off. above pic taken last year over here right before the Bristol leg of Alabama 3's MOR Tour.

happy birthday, Stevie: Librarian of Love. xoxoxoxox

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blackest. friday. EVar

shop till you drop – it's the American way. since Thanksgiving 04, i've been copying and pasting just about the same Black Friday post on my real *sniffle* site but this year, i won't cos i'm totally gutted. hey, is there a word for feeling simultaneously enervated by mindlessly selfish people whilst you're energised by the thought of beating the crap outta them?



'A WalMart worker died after being trampled when hundreds of shoppers smashed through the doors of a Long Island store Friday morning, police and witnesses said. The 34-year-old employee, a temporary maintenance worker, tried to hold back the unruly crowds just after the Valley Stream store opened at 5 a.m.'

IT OPENED AT FIVE ON THE MORNING AFTER THANKSGIVING? 'Unbe-fuckin-lievable'... i can just see the greedy hordes queueing up after midnight, entire chubby families with bloated stomachs and turkey sandwiches crammed in the pockets of their cranberry sauce-stained khakis and phoney Burberry, sitting on fold-out chairs, all rarin-a go with their greed spurring on all that pent-up adrenaline, making them talkative which causes them to meet their neighbors; people who'll happily shove you aside, trip you up and then stomp over you if you're in their way for too long a second after the doors open. happy Thanksgiving, America.



'Witnesses said the surging throngs of shoppers knocked the man down. He fell and was stepped on. As he gasped for air, shoppers ran over and around him. "He was bum-rushed by 200 people," said Jimmy Overby, 43, a co-worker. "They took the doors off the hinges. He was trampled and killed in front of me. They took me down too... I literally had to fight people off my back."

!?! !!!!!!!111111!!!!!!!!!!!! totally disgraceful, 'Uncouth, unwashed, unclea'- rather, this is so not civilised behavior and for me, personally, living over here, it's totally humiliating especially since i learnt it from a Brit, one of my oldest friends here. my heart goes out to this dude and especially, his family cause from here on in, every Thanksgiving's gonna be totally ruined as far as they're concerned. :-( i hope i smell a lawsuit; aren't all firms supposed to ensure the safety of their employees as well as their clientele?

'The unidentified victim was rushed to an area hospital, where he was pronounced dead at 6:03 a.m., police said...'

from a comment: 'things like this are the main reason i shop online. i dont have to worry about crowds, traffic, or ignorant people fighting with me over an item. what kind of a country do we live in anyway?'

dumb question, d00d. THIS kinda country:



from another comment: 'What must the world think of us? Have we become so GREEDY that we stampede right over people just to get a sale?'



sure looks like it. anyway, next are bits from my annual Black Friday post, While Amerika Shops: 'Karl Marx would be proud of Tyler Durden’s lovely and true anti-consumerism diatribe in Fight Club:

‘You are not your bank account. You are not the clothes you wear. You are not the contents of your wallet. You are not your bowel cancer. You are not your grande latte. You are not the car you drive. You are not your fucking khakis… I say, let me never be complete. I say, may I never be content. I say, deliver me from Swedish furniture. I say, deliver me from clever art. I say, deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth… I say, evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.’

Americans try to shop their way to fulfillment: ‘In this capitalist society, our function is consumption. Everyday, thousands of advertisements bombard our senses, validating our lives with a higher purpose. Whether it is an event or a product, these ads strive to convince us that our lives are incomplete without their product … Ultimately, we are all walking advertisements. We don’t have to sport name brands in order to tell the world who or what we are endorsing. Even our words and actions have become commodities.

‘In our commercial culture, each of us lives our own “Truman Show.” Our religions and belief systems are commodities endorsed by our culturally choreographed behavior. Consumerism becomes an important social mechanism connecting us to one another and, paradoxically, disconnecting us from one another … Consumption itself has become America’s primary cultural commodity. Many of us actually buy that buying is therapeutic and an essential part of this human existence. Mottos such as ‘the one who dies with the most toys wins’ and ‘shop till you drop’ epitomize our materialist paradigm.

this shit is still right on the money — Brad Pitt as Jeffrey Goines in ‘The 12 Monkeys'

‘There’s the television. It’s all right there, all right there. Look, listen, kneel, pray. Commercials! We’re not productive anymore. We don’t make things anymore. It’s all automated. What are we *for* then? We’re consumers, Jim… Buy a lot of stuff, you’re a good citizen. But if you don’t buy a lot of stuff, if you don’t, what are you then, I ask you? What? Mentally *ill*.

'Fact, Jim, fact — if you don’t buy things — toilet paper, new cars, computerized yo-yos, electrically-operated sexual devices, servo systems with brain-implanted headphones, screwdrivers with miniature built-in radar devices, voice-activated computers…'

Jeffrey Goines was mad but he did have a point, which brings me to the immortal words of the ‘pharmaceutically-assisted Brixton rebels,’ the Alabama 3, ‘Comrades, people of the world, we ain’t got nothing to lose but the goddamn bourgeoisie blues…’

don't forget there're only 26 more shopping days before Christmas. keep up the great work, Amerika – do your worst.



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i'm a tourist: sue me III

saw the paper and hadda take its pic for obvious reasons. with that outta the way, yesterday i was a participant in UK Biobank, 'a national medical research project to study the prevention and treatment of cancer, heart attacks, strokes, diabetes, dementia and many other serious diseases... will involve 500,000 people aged 40 - 69 from all around the UK...'

for obvious (and typically selfish) reasons, i do hope they research and cure the dementia bit first so maybe, just maybe, i've got a chance.



right, almost forgot. the other day, when in London, i made a friend whilst waiting for my coach at the Shame Train Station near Victoria. these idiots – other passengers – were like kicking at the poor thing but then s/he came up to me cause i crumbled liddle cracker bits and tossed them, trying to get Potential Friend outta the line of assholes' fire. then i thought of taking little birdie boy or grrl home but remembered Hunter would love nothing better than to feast on freshly murdered noms. i took this next when s/he was on his or her way over to visit and dine on my crumbs. people stared. i yawned (the usual).



anyway, back to last night walking home from BioBank, i acted the tourist again. hmmm... this seems to be my M.O, here cause AFAIC, it's the same as it ever was since 4. july 2004. and if y'all don't dig it? being American, i say 'sue me' cause i can't help it (nor do i wanna 'help' it). 'enthralled' neither covers it nor sums up my emotions regarding how i feel about actually and finally living here. and lemme tell you it's a surprise – even to meh – how long this joy has lasted. nb: 'joy' is NOT the proper word; 'insane delight' sums it up better. in all honesty, it's actually the best anti-anhedonia measure i've ever tried (and youse know meh: i've tried em all).

anyway, i took these next walking home (duh!). no clever comments cause i'm supposed to be working now and i've no time to think up stupid things to say for the usual cheap laugh. OK, here's my local Banksy again.



what did they say in Pulp Fiction about America and Europe? 'It's the little differences...' here's Bristol City Centre with Statue of Neptune – one of my fave mythological figures mostly cause of the Piscean elements: heavy drama and emotions, drinking and drugging. oh, and that very phallic Trident... oh wow, just remembered: ages ago, i actually saw a dildo in the shape of a trident but that's a whole 'nother story involving my GF who bought it, the fool. anyway, here's Neptune.



the rest of the photos? nothing special, just the little differences; stuff i never saw in the States which's prolly why not only do i find them charming but make me feel i'm a sponge soaking up history as i bop down the street (which street? most any street). R-click and open in new tabs for embiggenousity. as well, try to ignore the psychedelic colors lighting the building at the end for Christmas... even to me, they're crass, crude and tawdry (i.e., typically American style).






and naturally, it wouldn't be a real post of mine if there weren't a pic of My H- i mean, Stoneleigh House. i should really do a before and after but too wasted to dig up one of the hundreds of pics of this exact view taken over the last few Summers when the foliage was so dense, i couldn't see M- Stoneleigh House.



right, i've been holding back on youse (but only a bit). long story short, the Creative Director at Mane (hairdressers) is also a photographer and he entered a competition that involves choosing a chick over 40 to act as role model to other old ladies (in an 'if yer female, yer not dead if yer old' kinda way). wait... can't quit LMAO at the thought of me being ANYbody's role model. anyway, the exhibit shall be shown in London in a few months and though we began today, we'll be finishing up on monday. i'm (not) ashamed to say it's taking so long cause i wouldn't quit messing around with the dude and making him laugh (read: as usual, i refused to behave). so here i am as role model. nb: i promised to be 'good' next week (and he actually believed me):




please notice how he forced me to take my own pics. i think i drove him slightly mad this afternoon but hey, his fault for having the nerve to link my image to the words 'role model'. *snigger*

moving right along, one more thing: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the States.



fun fact: i was NEVER permitted to sit at the adults' table. NEVER. the grown-ups always whined about it; something about me being disruptive but i hadn't a clue what the hell they were on about so i sat with the kids every damn year. in related news, almost 13 years ago my cousin and his wife had their first son, Gus, and then a coupla years later, Natty came along. these are two of the sweetest, most intelligent, well-behaved liddle boys i've ever met. back to my point: before i left the States, i had like five Thanksgiving dinners with Gus and three with Natty.

Natty and Gus are still seeing that shrink after school on a thrice-weekly basis all due to those dinners but for all i know, it could be bullshit in a feeble attempt to guilt me out. as well, i've been told the entire holiday and the word itself – 'Thanksgiving' – will set them off. but there's two sides to every story (she said primly) and IMO my behavior was always perfectly ladylike at these fambly thingies. y'know... in a role model kinda way. *cheesey grin*

correction 1: yesterday, i ended my post with Lazybones' photo of a cute liddle creature with impeccable taste in music. i mistakenly called him Mr Rat. Lazy: '...He is a she and called Pepper and our other one is called Minty...' i torry, Miss Pepper. wait, new rool: anyone who wants to crash here when Alabama 3 play Bristol has got to prove they don't own any Eagles. and so... uh, Lazy? i think we should – wait. strike that. we shall be Having Words* before their next Bristol gig (at least Pepper knows where it's at).

*big thanks to Electric Landlady cause i'm getting a LOTTA mileage outta those. :-) and best of luck to Dave on the nonsmoking thingy. Electric, right now i kinda like feel sorry for you, actually. *whispers* but don't tell Dave – it might make him w- soz! i mean, 'it might make IT worse'.

correction 2: last week whilst making LOL Cats, i was a bit too drunk to be sitting at the 'board and mistakenly clicked the wrong button, the one inviting friends. right before my horrified eyes, everyone in my Y! addressbook was sent an invite to be mai fwend. nb: whenever i join any site (apart from Twitter), i ain't looking for friends, just wanting to use the available facilities.

as one can see on my LOL Cats profile (end of 'About Meh'), i wrote 'see the "zero friends" at R? is stawree of mai lief, akshually'. that was written way before my clicky mistake and now i'm forced to change it (with the usual caveat: if i remember).

back to my mistaken click, usually it'd be no big thang but an invite was sent to one, an American, whose behavior at mine – as my guest – was termed 'Totally disgraceful' (that last came from the not so obscure object of her desires). anyway, when i realised my fuck-up, i sent a mass mail to most everyone in my Y! addys telling of my error and requesting they picture the look on Ms Disgraceful Behavior's face when she got my invite. to quote Highlander (who was quoting who knows whom), 'Oh how we laughed'. *still sniggering at the thought of mistaken recipient's reaction*

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