BOO! afwaid yet?

O, HAI! dis mask frum Mehico in Death Shop rite heer in town, a place in front of which i spend hours fogging up their windows wif mai breaf: 'The only 'Design your Life and Death' shop in the UK, Heaven on Earth is an internationally famous, award-winning celebration shop, watched over by Paula Rainey Crofts and Simon Dorgan.



'Heaven on Earth, bespoke funeral arrangers and gift shop, was born in 1995 as a result of a misheard wish. Simon thought he heard me (Paula) say: "I want to open a 'coffee' shop", but I had actually said "a 'coffin' shop"...'

yup. i'ze'd be weering red skully mask tonight but i gotz someone to akshually (and hopefully) shock & awe the Uni students who'll be out and all dressed up. as every year, my fave theme comes to mind (going as meh but only moar so) but if all goes well, tonight shall be different cause i've finally found some sucker to pick up the s- i mean, i found some very nice, agreeable dude whose sensa yooma's kinda similar to mine (i.e., 'sick') so here's hoping we can pull it off successfully (i'll get into that later). fun fact: up until i came up with my brilliant costume idea, if my Halloween attire could be summed up in a catchy phrase, it would've been called Recently Raped (think beyond holey fishnets and black eyes). nb: no offence intended towards anyone since i have the right to dress like that, having been raped myself, but i digress

moving right along, why am i still stuck in semi-LOL Cat speek? apart from my main purpose – annoying people – it's for teh same reazin i sed teh other day – the less ppl reedn' meenz the moar i can haz kon- err, kann... fukkit: KAHN-FIH-DINZ to truly open up and spill all the disgusting shit in my lief (that which's happening and that which was told meh) and the best part is, others' reputations just might be ruined (she said with something approaching glee). i envision my Schadenfreude Quotient soaring as the hordes run me outta town for busting their balloons, their ideals and their previous illusions of some of their heroes but hey, someone's gotta do it and i choo choo choose meh. and don't forget: y'all kin thank me later. :-)

oh wait: need i say i'm only kidding? let's pretend i'm not though (moar fun) cause anyway, dere's stil an uncomfortably large number of ppl readin here for me to really open up with impunity and i'ze waitin for teh man as well as the day when i can do that very thing. WHOA, NELLIE! heds are so gonna roll (and mine'll be teh first but by that point, i won't give a damn). shit... where was i? right, Halloween. i think. maybe. anyway. *cough* i know! i'll blame it all on my senility complete with my now very old chorus of 'i don't remember' (she offered not unwisely).



OK, since it's obvious i haven't the slightest idea of WTF i'm on about, the following is a small shitload of space-takers, time-wasters and other assorted stuff i feel like posting in order to avoid the point and keep excelling at my fave thing: wasting tiem. BTW, dunno how it happeneded but somehow i got my work maileded in a few minutes before my 09,00 deadline today (yay!) but for the first time EVar, i faileded to proofread mai proofreading (boo!) so by the tiem i'ze dun futzing about here, i just mite bee outta a job. i shall ignore that eventuality for now (cuz iz too laet to fret) so without further ado, on with the show (tentatively titled): I'll See Youse in Mai Dreemz cause sure as shit, i ain't gonna be seeing any of the below in meatspace, no matter how much i wanna.











and finally, pitteh teh poor kitteh (oy fuckin' vey; 100 points off any street cred i've got left, just for saying plus extra points off for all those Summers spent reading my parents' old Reader's Digests, especially the articles on 'How To Increase Your Wordpower'):


naturally, as is my wont, i saved my faves for last.



Chris contributed this next. *snigger*



and the scenario for which i've been waiting my entire fuckin' life. in all actuallity, i don't think it'll happen tonight but hey, y'never noes. (me: 'pleeh, dammit, pleeh, Pleeh, PLEEEEEH!!! taek meh awaaaaay!)



scanning up and down the page, it's obvious i have no idea what i'm talking about (more of an obviousity than any other 'normal' day) and like the proverbial kitchen sink, i threw in random LOLCats wherever in a futile effort to be witty and simultaneously take up moar space and moar of yer tiem, but guess whut? i FAILz. wait; as punishment i get 1,000 lashes and an endless reading of Scripture from the Book of Larry? kewl! errr... (third tiem i've seddit this week): me go now.

wait, i ain't leaving yet; not before i tell tonight's Halloween costume scenario. i've told it many times before (most recently on Twitter some weeks back) but never got any reaction so i figure people are either bored or hopefully so shocked, they're tongue-tied (i'm betting on 'bored'). OK, diddit once in NYC and it was a rousing success, judging by the looks of disgust and contempt on people's faces. and the things they threw at us but that's a tale in itself.

here's the backstory (leaving out the bit that when JFK got shot, it was a pivotal point in my young life and opened the floodgates to mountains of trouble). anyway, ages back i walked by an East Village thriftshop and snagged a knockoff of that now infamous pink Chanel suit with pillbox hat, exactly like the one Jackie O was wearing 22. november 1963. i had to have it cause i knew that owning it would give me 'ideas' (always a dangerous enterprise).



cutting to the chase, for the Best Costume EVar, one artfully paints the lap of the skirt with phoney blood (not ketchup or you'll stink of tomatoes all night) and after finding a willing partner whose hair is combed somewhat like JFK's used to be, you force him into a suit and tie after devising phoney brains (mayonnaise and half-cooked or soaked pasta's excellent, mixed with a small amount of grey clay or Play-Doh so the entire thing adheres to the back of his head and ideally drips down his shoulders). if one's really lucky, there's enough money left over to rent a 1964 black Lincoln Continental and if you happen to have yet another friend whose sense of humor's just as sick in the head as yours, he acts the chauffeur, driving your asses around with the Lincoln's top down.

we did this on 5th Avenue one Halloween way ages back, cause they have this huge costume party and parade in Washington Square Park every year. (nb: WSP's at the very bottom, where 5th begins.) as we slowly drove down the Avenue, the onlookers' shocked gasps were more than audible whilst we preened our heads off. but pretty soon, the gasps turned to horrified shouting (like 'GET OFF THE STREET!' as well as 'WE'RE CALLING THE COPS!') and some of the crowd threw things at us, things like half-empty Gatorade bottles, orange juice containers, full cans of Diet Coke and one idiot upended an entire trashcan in front of our rented Lincoln, in a futile effort to stop us. when the police arrived they were inclined to write us a citation, something along the lines of inciting a riot, but legally speaking, they couldn't. so we were only ordered to drive to the nearest garage and remove our costumes. and we did and stuck em in the trunk. the funniest thing about it was, the stupid cops were so outraged they failed to search us – whew! if they had, they'd have been able to arrest us for possession cause we'd brought refreshments to keep on refuelling all night long.

but who knew that New Yorkers had absolutely no sense of humor? i mean, we were only mocking like the biggest thing that'd happened in recent history (if 'recent' means within the twenty years prior to that Halloween cause we did it in the early 80s). looking back on it now, i'm proud and pleased we pulled it off to the extent we did and i'm so hoping Brits get it cause if they don't, it'll be yet another FAIL. but that's cool, i'ze used to FAIL. in fact, my entire lief can be summed up by FAIL, but hey, yet again, i digress. *sneery smirk*

anyway, back to that glorious night (that is, before the NYPD showed up), to say heads turned and groans were audible would be the understatement of understatements. anyway, believe me when i tell you that never have i seen so many people disgusted and offended in so short a period of time. my fave bit of our liddle show was renacting this brief scene, straight outta Zapruder, something i got to do like five or six times before we were stopped. at the time, Lenny Bruce had a shtik about that day in Dallas in which he'd go 'You couldn't hear her, but Jackie was screaming "Get me the fuck outta here!"...'



'Back and to the left... back and to the left...' LOL, mission accomplished! yes, i already know i have the poorest of taste and judgment so please, if you wanna dis meh, think of sump'n original cause i've been hearing the 'poor taste' moan for most of my life and it's always bored meh, beginning when my mother seddit the first time. BTW, if it makes any difference to anyone, this event (the JFK cover-up) was pretty much crucial AFAIC, that which impacted on me most during my formative years and helped make me the disconsulate, disgrunted and depressed person i am today, but that's a whole 'nother story. *sigh*

LOL, happy Halloween! *evil*

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i can haz moar LOL Cats? pleeh?

woke up this morning dreading my day: apart from getting down to business with my next deadline due tomorrow at 09,00 (means another all-nighter but i don't care), i must yet again, venture into meatspace and commune with humans. this is sump'n to which i'll never be accustomed and so always puts me in a foul mood. and so, being the man i am, i shall wallow in my usual behavior when confronted with something distasteful to me.

so i'm doing what i usually do when i'm feeling crap: taking it out on others (hey! works for meh). first thing that springs to mind are all those who've threatened to quit reading here, thanks to hating teh kitteh and practically begged me 'Enough with the damn LOLCats'. it's so obvious, these (let's be nice and call em) 'people' don't know me very well cause i don't take too kindly to threats. in fact, whenever i'm threatened i pour whatever on even more so, ad nauseum. so grin and bear it or quit reading here cause it matters not (see two posts back, Don't Leaf Me This Way *cringe* and find out why i couldn't care less if nobody reads me. in brief, the less number of people i know're here, the more i'm apt to spill personal stuff).



moving right along, in a hopefully successful effort to chase off anyone who hasn't yet left (cause i'm so dying to tell all), i shall repost that which i hope's coming outta alla your ears and eyes, having seen them all so many times before. ready? here goes. *snigger* BTW, any complaints shall be immediately trashed so don't even bother.

wait, just found this on the site of my newest addition to my lit-tle list of Reservoir Dogs (David Niall Wilson's Macabre Ink). IMO it's brilliant, so spread it around (with proper attribution, if you please): Becuz It Must Be Passed On ... LOL Catz Prayerz ... fer U. thank you, David dude, what a dynamite way to wake up.

OK, back to my promise of reposting the same old shit in a hopefully successful effort to chase people off, thus giving me the confidence to tell all. *smirk* and boy, do i have 'all' to tell. :-) lemme see... uh, in all truth (and this is about the first time i'm saying this honestly): LOL, where to begin? i noes! y'can't go wrong with a film quote (unless it's been used to death, as i've done over the last few years).



gah, the Coen Brothers or at least those who put on Lebowski fest should be paying me for all the free publicity i've given to TBL over the years. as well as thanks for all those i've turned on to the flick. anyway, here's a variation of the above.



as usual, you'll find these reruns to be of a theme.



y'know, if teh drugz weren't illegal, i'd be left quite short of subject matter. nb: no 'short' jokes please; i've hearded em all and youse don't wanna bore me. or do you? no matter cuz I. Don't. Care. anyway, this next is the eternal question, sump'n of which i haven't yet gotten to the bottom (nor am i trying).



but very unlike the meh of meh, i offer you a helpful hint in answer to the above (really! for once, i'm not kidding):



truer words and all and y'all better believe it. as i've said so many times, it's best for me never to experience any 'happy' since when it's over, i'ze plunged back down to the darkest pit of depression EVar, a place in which those weaker than i would've immediately ended it all. but wait, what do i find here before me? iz sump'n i never seeded before, so all's well (if 'well' means suicidal ideation's temporarily forgotten).



and now back to the reruns. *sigh* hey, let's see YOU come up with something new and original on a daily basis, especially if your focus ain't on politics. believe you me, when i was reading pols 24/7, not only was i never in need of posting material but i had a brazillyun ideas for posts, all still filed away in my dot org folder. but now? when i only have my life with which to work? welp, whatcha see iz whatcha get and today yer gittin these retreads or whatever. reruns... triples or quadruples, akshually (in all honesty, i've posted some of these more than three, four times over the years but shhhh, don't rat me out).

in closing, i shall leave y'all with the following message which still stands true since the day i first made it.



hmmmm... *thinking* in all actuallity, please do mess with me cause i've got a shitload of trouble i'm eager to bestow on whichever deserving person. i've actually gotta lit-tle list of those who merit the honor, beginning with the liars (so stupid a thing to do cause they diddit in such a way it was easy-peasey to catch em out). to those in question, all i can say is, you made the typical mistake; the one those who don't know me in meatspace always make: you've underestimated me by totally believing my online persona. 'silly' isn't a sufficient descriptor. teh stupid's more like it. even dumber than dumb, they actually thought i'd not notice (meenz they thot they'd escape with impunity, thus lowering my prior estimation of their *cough* let's call it 'intelligence').

moving right along, it's time for me to tip but i'll leave y'all with yet another boring LOL.


WAIT! not teh one i meant. i meanded more meh of course, so here's Hunter as a cute liddle kitteh, taken when he was about 8 weeks old.



iz not dis next either but knowing it's coming outta everyone's ears, no way can i resist (yes twice in this post alone). y'all still here? WHAT SHALL IT TAKE TO CHASE Y'ALL OFF MY VIRTUAL LAWN, DAMMIT? anyway, if you don't dig it, sue my fat ass.



*sigh* what i really meant to say is only this, and yes again, iz meh stating the obvious, as is my wont.



yup, KTHXBAI... that is – for now. *threat mode* if all goes well (and it never does) i shall be back sometime before midnight, with sump'n resembling a real post. but for the good of meh, alla youse and ebrybody else, don'tcha hold me to it. in fact, take everything you might read here with a tonne of salt. i know it's out of character but that was actually just a helpful hint (she wheedled, hoping to be believed).

as they say in the States (and as i hear more and more frequently here, to my ever-increasing distress), 'Have a nice day!' – the thing of it is, they don't mean it but i certainly do. and if your nice day involves fucking those over who've fucked you up first, more power to you and that's from the bottom of my cold dead heart. LOL, i rilly rilly mean it but it's up to youse to ascertain whether or not i'm playing with you. and do keep in mind: i love to play. :-)

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non gratum anus rodentum

*snigger* FFS, it's a damn joke! moving right along, i used to really dig Twitter and the entire idea behind it. that is, until Twitter Grader came along, thus turning the entire thing into a sort of popularity contest, something against which i've always been, be it in meatspace or online. here's their website into which one can insert one's own user-name (or anyone else's) and voila! there's yer twitter grade.

wait – 'grade'. the very word reminds me of school and as i've said too many times, 'school' is the only area of life in which i excelled without ever trying. in fact, i became an alcoholic my first time round at Uni and still managed to be on the Dean's list each and every time. but yet again, i digress.

OK, the following are screenshots i've taken of my twitter grades. please pay close attention to the date (up top of my Dashboard) and nunber of users and my rank (in the 2nd orange bar). now i sorely regret i wasn't doing this on a daily basis since the beginning but still, better than nothing. ready? here goes. right, i'd suggest youse to click on each screenshot; doing so will open in another tab and all the liddle details will be easily read, plain as day. but up to y'all. far be it for me to force your hand or eye.



as can be clearly seen, on 2. october, my score was a lowly 44 and my rank was no. 19,417 out of 37,926. then, twitter's popularity began to grow and grow and grow, much to my dismay. two days later, i found that not only did my score go up a point but dig:



my ranking was 20,023 out of 39,353 others. OK, within a period of about 48 hours, like 2,000 more joined up. so far so good, i think. but seven hours later, lo and behold:



my grade was upped by a not-so-hugeass one point but dig: i was 19,805 out of 39,593. i sensed critical mass but for now, let's ignore that. OK, i waited three days only to find that once again, my grade was up to a still lowly 48.



at that point in time i was neither flattered nor pleased cause it seemed the buzz about twitter, just like that which happened to blogger was reoccurring again. 'the occasional acid flashback' totally doesn't explain this. dig the fine print: i was no. 19,646 out of 40,624. my heart sank as the above gave me proof positive that every asshole and his mother was jumping on the Twitter bandwagon. oh, joy. NOT.

but wait! on 9. october, i actually lost a point.



no weeping of copious tears or anything, just disgust as i read my stats: no. x2,571 (can't read the first figure due to the skull i failed to move outta the way) out of 43,061. and a few days later, on 13. october, i lost another:



OK, that's more like it: back on my usual downward spiral and landing at 46 which made me 29,878 out of 56,104. but what got me was that within four days, more than 13,000 joined up and got twit-graded. depressing.

15. october found me wiling away my time, still stuck at 46.



but once again, when reading the fine print, one finds i'm 30,878th out of an overall 56,907. judging by that which i've been told, most recently that i'm an 'acquired taste', all's well and good. having a bit of time to fritter away instead of doing the work for which i'm paid, i checked twit-grader again literally like a coupla hours later and was shocked to find this:



how the hell did that happen? up a point within two fucking hours? obviously someone's slipping and it ain't me. shit shit shit... my Filmic Tourette's rising to the occasion and for once, i don't wannit to nor do i think it amusing. *deep breaths* OK, here goes: 'Someone's playing with my dick and it ain't me'. *in a John Goodman voice* and with that shit outta the way, now i shall continue. whew!

i graded myself yet again the following evening and was amazed to see my twit-power up another two points.



i mean, WTF? 49? surely these people are joking with us (or at least, their algorithm's wrong). then, having deadlines up the wazoo and things in my calendar approaching a social life, i totally dint bother with twit-grader for nearly a week, especially cause i wanted to pay full attention to Chris whilst he visited me here. and i did (she said nearly happily).

the next time i checked was like six days later (22. october). here's the result:



yup, yet another rise to an unprecedented 63. and once again, i shall repeat: this means nothing cause if you dig the fine print, you'll see i'm 36,653th out of – hold onto yer hats – 104,917. i mean, big fuckin' whoop (yeah, i know i said that already but having a shite vocabulary and being senile, i tend to repeat myself muchly). hours later, i went up a point:



i'm no. 39,332 out of *sigh* 114,405. i attribute all these rising scores to the latecomers who drag the entire thing down and no, i'm still not impressed cause 5,5 hours later, another 100,000 or so joined up. morons (apart from my followers and those whom i follow in return).

26. october found me at my highest yet: 68.



by this time i'm sure y'all know the drill: click for details cause i'm sick and tired of doing it for you and laboriously copying it all down here.

and here we go: my penultimate screenshot:


73 ?!? big fuckin' whoop; this's beginning to bore me (always a sign of trouble to come). lemme clarify: by no means do i mean Twitter's boring me; far from it. i mean, where else can i basically and virtually show my ass and get away with it? nope, Twitter's not boring me but the damn grader is. just for shits and grins and since i haven't done it since yesterday, i shall now see what i'm up (or down) to.

whoa, whaddaya know? i'm at like 74.



*yawn* Twitter, if i were you, i'd so get rid of the grader app ASAP cause as i said somewhere above, i'm totally against anything which in any way smacks of a popularity contest, being more of a cooperation kinda kitteh than the other, competitive kind. but hey, to each its own.

i shall leave y'all with the hope that the grader doesn't frighten anyone away. as for me, i've met a shitload of dynamite people and that's all that matters. *cough* here y'go, twit-grader, this one's for you:



*snigger* and *snarf* and a snort for good measure. whoa, speaking of snorts, i just remembered i have a shitload of stuff left over, all thanks to the generousity of my guests here the other night. but thanks to my failed peripheral vision, i somehow dint look upon the coffeetable at all today. now if i can only hold the thought in my head as i prepare my dinner... (knowing me, i wouldn't bet on it but there's an upside to my crap memory: whatever it is i've forgotten will be waiting for me tomorrow).

edit on thursday @9,06: LOL, after typing last 'graph above, i had my dinner and watched Angel Heart, a film whose content varies wildly with that of the same name, shown Stateside. i mean, i brought the American vid over here but seeing AH on British TV totally freaked me out cause it was like seeing a completely different flick with so many scenes left on the US Standards & Practices cutting room floor or wherever. wait... this is not what i meant to say. uh... *thinks* *wood burning* *thinks harder*

right, goddit (now the problem concerns whether or not i can hold it). OK, directly after typing last 'graph last night (now two 'graphs above), i brought in my dinner, smoked a bowl and verily enjoyed every crumb on my plate as well as every second of the real version of Angel Heart. the best bit? senility served me well cause i totally forgot about the coke on the table, although it was on the tray like six inches from my right shoulder. actually, i'm turning round and leering at it now: leer leer leer. but i don't hold any hope the thought'll stick. naturally, that meenz moar for meh later on. IIR (which i prolly won't).

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don't leaf me this way...

title with huge apologies to Thelma Houston. anyway, this's yet another meander down the old ADD road: if someone – anyone – had told me i'd actually be punning (told me over 8 years back, that is), i'd have demolished whomever for lying to me. but here things are rather different (thank &deity for that). moving right along, Thelma has my apologies but i offer up none whatsoever for teh LOL Cats, even if it means people quit reading here, mostly cause the less people read, the more i can spew my own personal info and rest assured only a small handful would wonder if i'm for real or not. y'all have no idea of the disgusting stuff i've been up to lately and the depths to which i've sunk. why? you've got one guess so use it wisely. hint: until my stats gimme a reasonably low number, i shall note this stuff in my iTouch only and leave it off here. tough.

*cough* having absolutely nothing i can share with impunity (no gossip, no personal admissions nor true confessions), i shall forget about making up the usual shite and post some of these lovely photos, recently sent me by Christine.






there's more where they came from but i'm waiting for the next time i'ze tongue-tied. anyway, thanks Christine, dunno what i'd do without you (in more ways than one, as you so unfortunately know). *snigger* back to my above, i've got plenty to say...



but for once it ain't gonna come from me. hmmmm... but, but, butt – soz, i meant BUT:



NO! never in a brazillyun years whut ah meant t'say. to everyone who's mailed – to ask 'What's up?' – regarding certain people, dis whut ah meanded:



yet again, i'm not too anxious for the hordes to descend upon my poor ass so i shall keep quiet about all the gossip to which i'm (unfortunately) privy. believe me, i'm so dying to spill but i won't cause apart from my ass i value my access in future as well as my rep. and very unlike me, i won't post my usual 'SUF-FERrrr'. why? cause i'm feeling somewhat un-SG at the moment (meenz: not enough of teh drugs) and anyway, youse won't. suffer, that is. hmmmm *wood burning* i know just the thing to take away teh agony of existence for, at the very least, a small while.



warning: if anyone dares ring me later, don't say i dint warn you due to glugging as much of the above as i possibly can in a not-so-futile attempt to ward off any desire to enhance my mind via the wonderful world of chemistry. anyway, scanning up and down this post, i believe a bit of levity is called for, so here goes.



akshually, iz not teh funny, not at all. serendipitously (as always) the phone just rang and it was Iron Mommy, someone who i can't hustle off the phone before i hear the latest details of her various (and ever-growing list of) ailments. whilst i held the phone nearly a foot from my ear, i made this next, totally dedicated to her.



but will she get it? and if she does, despite text above, will she know it's for her? Iron Mommy, i'll have you know you force me to repeat myself: the above's totally dedicated to you with all the errr... um, 'love' i can muster and with big thanks for making me what i am today. OMG, unbelievable; this must be the quickest phonecall she's ever inflicted upon me, but she reminded me of something kinda crucial (in a fambly way – my fambly) cause it seems she's taken 'feminism' to new heights (or depths, depends on your POV) as she proudly announced she's re-reading Camille Paglia's Sexual Personae. this new info forced me to find my own copy just so i can refute her on every point she might bring up in future. fun fact: this is yet another continuation of our battle of wills, now going on for decades and decades. yay! goddit! directly under the Wittgenstein (click to enlarge):



editor's note: if you've forgotten, i'm still strolling down the ADD trail: hmmpf... i haven't rearranged my books lately. i mean, amongst everything else i've got OCD but i'm not one of those who alphabetises stuff; i keep em in my own kinda order: like books of Films and Films Theory together, books on the English language together, art tomes together but in my own kind of size order; DVDs sorted by color – apart from the Film Noir, the Hitchcock, the horror, the criminal, the films about Hollywood – like that).

but checking above pic, and looking at the pile on the coffeetable, the one on the other bookshelf as well as the growing pile in the bedroom, i foresee yet another hours-long bout of regrouping my books – always a top way of frittering away time. helpful hint: works better after smoking reefer cause it makes you think and question yourself ad infinitum as well as ad nauseum. result? hours fly by in a very pleasant way. :-)

right, thanks again, Christine, for the lovely photos (and mostly for doing my work for me). *cough* i can haz moar pleeh? *love*

whoa, almost forgot this pic of the Natural History Museum, taken out the window of the Shame Train last friday.



the lady sitting next to me was very cool after i first asked her permission to lean over to snap the pic and then suddenly found myself sitting in her lap after an unanticipated bump in the road. our eyes locked as i desperately tried to think of a decent way to excuse myself.



but those particular thoughts went flying out the holes in my head when i saw this playful grin on her face, a look which quickly changed to (what i read as) 'Come hither', which, AFAIC, signalled (wildly and loudly) that, not only did she not mind me in her lap but, she liked it. pity, cause she was so totally not my type. i mean, even i have a modicum of principles and one of them is, if i'm going for same-sex sex, my partner has got to have a teeny tiny number of the elements which make up the me of me, and i'm not meaning the outer fleshy envelope, not by a longshot. BTW, this has nothing to do with Teh Shallow, it's just that i've always found that, what's in someone's head is far more sexy than their meatspace appearance.

anyway, back to the me of me, the Punk thing's not necessary but where one's head's at certainly is. note to all chick wannabe comers (and i do mean comers): if y'all want me, at least pretend to have a little me, if not in attitude than in inner boynessity (or 'Bartness'). barring that, be intellectually brilliant and totally honest. back to my poor seatmate (and she was passing cute), given the passage of a few days, with The Incident stewing inside, all i can say is, 'dude, why were you wearing what you had on? i mean, it wasn't even Halloween. if only you'd worn blue jeans (at the very least), i mean, who knows?

*sigh* ideally we'd be all cosy in bed right now, basking in the afterglow of our lovely union – have i ever told you how i used to be called 'The Fastest Tongue in NYC'? and 'The Slowest' as well – anyway, we'd be together, all luxuriating and shit and prolly arguing over who brought tea and bisquits to whom. until i fucked you up with this (botha us loving every minute of it):



but c'mon! you shocked the shit outta me cause until you opened your mouth, i took you for an American tourist! i mean, a pink polyestre trouser suit on a British woman?




CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING?

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