my own private hidey-hole

i have a lovely paid account. i haven't done a poll for ages. here is a poll for you to fill in when you get bored today. if you like. i should make better use of my account! and not just by making icons of gay ganstas and guns. ggg. oh, if the poll isn't enough, you can do anon comments if you fancy! lj toys isn't on either.

tra la la.

[Poll #1270328]

it is very confusing, to listen to mark watson being all over enthusiastic and welsh, whilst advertising the hmv sale, then seconds later being all laid back and english advertising his own show.

very confusing indeed.

***

today i am mainly speaking with a new zealand* accent. why? you may be bothered to ask. well, i started randomly this morning, and it seems to be helping combat my slight hangover**. excellent work, kiwis!




* apologies to any actual new zealanders who have the misfortune to hear it.
** one bottle of wine! when did i become such a loser??

I love these bright, crisp, chill, autumn mornings. With all of my heart. Yesterday, I got to wander in the sunshine through a park en route to work, kicking leaves and humming to myself. Today I have broken out the snuggly knitwear, my softest, most favourite jumper, and my silly gloves. It's not even quite cold enough for gloves, but their multicolouredness cheers my heart.

Aaaaah.

Last night I did nothing but sleep for hours. It was blissful.

Today I really will have nothing to do. All distractions welcome!

Most importantly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the fantastic suicideally, high-kicking lady extraordinare!

+ The fact that whilst walking around very central London you can take a detour into Cambridgeshire.

+ Alan Moore's Promethea. I can't put it down. So clever. So beautiful. Wow.

+ Home made coleslaw.

If I had a penny for every time someone told me that I had amazing breasts, I could easily afford to house the aforementioned bosom in some completely made to measure Rigby & Peller, or similar.

The thing is, they *aren’t* amazing really, are they. They won’t save the world from environmental apocalypse. They don’t have little rotors that pop out of the front to enable me to fly. They are simply Quite Large, nothing more, nothing less, boobs are the best nothing amazing.

It appears to be a fact that people expect me to feel flattered by when they notice it. Them. It’s just a fact. It doesn’t mean you’re incredibly observant, it doesn’t mean I have a great talent I’d like acknowledged. However, there would appear to be an unwritten law that states any / all men are allowed to make loud comments in the street, and I’m (we’re) (at the very least) expected to take them with a smile.

He says:	shewho Trans.:
”Hello Darlin’!”	Hello large breasts.
”Looking good, sweetheart…”	I’m taking a good look at your large breasts.
”Can I get your number?”	I’d like to see those large breasts again.
”OI OI!!”	Your large breasts have rendered me speechless

Well, as I was walking home out of work the other day, I heard:
”How can you walk so fast when you look good?!”

... which my brain started to translate (how can you walk so fast with such big &c &c) but no! Actually, my brain started drawing the Venn Diagrams that this man clearly had in *his* brain. People who walk fast not crossing over with people who look good. Separate circles. And by the time I’d rendered them in pretty colours and labelled them in nice fonts I’d completely forgotten I was in any way offended or angry.

So because I can’t do much about the size of my bosom, I’ve decided just to use maths and geekery to combat my anger and frustration, and just not care. Thanks there, random strange man on the street, you actually made my life less tense and my journeys more entertaining.

(from the Cro Bar on Sunday. I don't know if CAB is slang for anything, but I am pleasantly tickled at the idea that calling someone a taxi is an insult. There's one for Legal Eagle! Ahem.)

Laughter in Odd Places is a wonderful concept. Comedy gigs in random venues. To date I’ve attended gigs in an art gallery, an Oxfam, a park, and last night The Museum of London. Also key to the LIOP manifesto is ‘you don’t need to be drunk to enjoy this’, and previously I’ve just got spectacularly giddy on funny people and tea.

Last night, however, there was a bar. And a curiousbadger, provider of wine. Err, whoops?

ANYWAY.

We Are Klang! I still love them too much. The Jew song, plus Memories…. It’s good fun to watch people watching Steve for the former, he does a good job of blushing on cue. Yes. OCD librarian tendencies come out as they use spoons and bowls from an exhibit to do WRONG things with and I’m properly shocked. Errr, and then tidy up afterwards. Along with all the bottles and glasses people have left behind…

Then (more wine oh dear) The Ornate Johnsons. They have a musical skit on Oliver! which makes me very happy, although damn, I thought I came up with that idea. Also, an operatic Only Fools & Horses, which is genius. And Louis Armstrong plus trumpet. Now, you know how much I love trumpets, don’t you? Can you see what’s coming? Er, yes. After they’d finished (restraint!) due to the intervention of a nice man, I got to play a (slightly broken) trumpet in the Museum of London. DUDE. JOY! Also, despite not touching one for about 10 years or so, I could still play a top G. How ace is my mouth? BRILLIANT. Muscular. Or something. (I’m talking about my embouchure, obv.) Almost remembered a full scale. Too happy for words.

Finally, Simon Munnery standing on a mosaic. Mostly stuff I’ve seen before, still funny. For some reason I can’t quite remember I shouted out that Italy was better than Spain. Because it was nearer my mum’s house. My mum, who lives outside of Perpignan. Yes.

Either way, it was all ace and good and hurrah! Afterwards we followed some people in the general direction of pizza. And more wine. Ooops. And then curiousbadger and I rampaged around the city singing ill-advised covers of Bonnie Tyler and We Are Klang. Whoops again. Chronic oversleeping this morning. In dire need of carbohydrates.

****

I’m so sorry for any irritatingness foisted upon y’all! See, I’ve come to realise that generally I’m somewhat giddy, like an excitable puppy, but mostly housetrained. ( Look at this thing! It’s BRILLIANT!!! Let’s do THIS! Canwecanwecanwe??!) It’s just with the application of alcohol, the excitability levels go through the roof a bit, and so does the volume, and I’m sure I’m unbearable. And a lot less housetrained, ahem. I’m not sure how to moderate myself either. Lately, it feels like I just get more and more excited until I collapse for a few days, recover, then start the cycle again. Don’t worry, I’m not being all emo, just thinking out loud a bit. Hmm.

I have deduced that yoga really does help my back of DOOM.

Unfortunately I have only come to this conclusion due to missing 2 weeks in a row (once due to excessive partying (NB: - NO SUCH THING) and one due to lack of instructor. And having, once again, a woefully painful back. Joy.

***

Nowt to say today, internet, I'm off to have my voice recorded for larks. Well, I find it strangely fascinating, I don't know why. Well, I say I don't know, but clearly I just like having ALL THE ATTENTION FOCUSED ON ME ME ME. Blimey, sometimes I find myself insufferable.

Later kids!

The best thing this weekend was getting an email asking if I wanted to go to a Dick Party. Of course, the only possible answer to that question is HELL YEAH! BAYUUUUUP. Ah, joy!

***

It’s been an interesting weekend, in which I have spectacularly failed to do most of the things I planned to do. Things I did do, however:

Friday

Drinkies in the Foundry. Absinthe & lemonade is rather delicious!

Bedroom Bar! Dancing! Drinking! Lounging on beds with ace people! Leaving at a sensible(ish) hour! Ah, I always have an ace night there.

***

Saturday

Lovely drinkies in the Chandos for yiskah’s birthday.

Toasties! YEAH!

Falling over. BOO

Attempting to fall over repeatedly! I don’t understand. Perhaps my shoes were too small and my blood not alcoholic enough.

Home for Doctor Who (meh, although I can’t really comment due to repeated closing of eyes) and pizza and getting ready for slaughterhaus5

Schoolboy (girl?) Error!!! Lying down. Dozing. Did make it to the bus stop, bus didn’t appear. Went back home. Slept. On a Saturnight! Rubbish.

Sweet, sweet, sleep.

***

Sunday

The day of being stood up!

Yoga is cancelled, as I am almost ready for it. Gah!

Tea and cookies is postponed.

I don’t mind, and crack on with serious sewing. Only broke 2 of my machine needles! Well, you try sewing hugely gathered denim and see what happens! End result = basic skirt shape. Now to faff around with ‘windows’ and get some boning and make an underskirt out of the sheet I ruined in the washing machine. Recycle baybee, yeah!

Also manage to deconstruct bodice and start cutting pieces out of actual t-shirts. Wheeee! I can do this! Discover wedding decorations are perfect for lining too. More recycling! Yeah!

Bloomsbury Ballroom for CocoRosie. The venue is weird, but somehow beautiful. The mirrorballs make me sick. The weird kitchen / diner makes me happy. Bump into lanarak and friends.

Rio en Mendio or something similar is all girlish voice and quiet noise and pretty fey. Enjoy muchly.

Tez is a human beatbox. He’s good, but I’ve seen Beardyman….

CocoRosie are entrancing and mesmerising and weirdly vocalled. Tez comes into his own as their ‘percussion’ for the evening. I want to learn the harp. It’s dancy and ethereal and absolutely marvellous. Well done there.

Hipsters, however, appear to get dirtier, and more stupid-haired every day. Cuh.

***

Monday
Ah, I’m in a shockingly good mood today dear livejournal. (Well, I was....)

♥ Perhaps the recent woe was rooted in hormones. (I should check these things really but I’m far too lazy…)
♥ Perhaps I’m happy due to a decent nights sleep?
♥ Perhaps it has something to do with the fact I’m currently sleeping in this.
♥ Perhaps it’s due to my copy of yiskah’s book arriving, new read for the commute that doesn’t make me angry!
♥ Perhaps it’s due to some moocards arriving, though eh, they didn’t quite do what I told them to, and I have no idea what to use them for!
♥ Perhaps it’s due to Republic of Loose English tour dates I can actually get to! If you’re at a loose end 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th July, you should go see them. I think I can do the 3rd.
♥ Perhaps it’s due to my face popping up all over facebook, how entertaining. (Actually, normally this would make me cry…)

What’s keeping you cheery today, dear internet?

Bad: forgetting to have any brekkie.

Good: free ‘girlie bags’ at Liverpool Street Station – including fruity cereal bar!

[Although quite why the bags are just for girls, I don’t know. Without wanting to come across all publicansdecoy on you (sorry PD! I love you really!) what is about having a Y chromosome that means you won’t want to eat cereal bars? Or drink fruit juice? Admittedly you probably wouldn’t want to wear Ghost eau de toilette, or tan whilst moisturising, but then neither do I.]

Actually, I’ve never seen anyone handing out ‘man bags’. (Heh, manbags!) Have you? What would / does go in a man bag? I had brekkie anyway, I shouldn’t complain.

Weird: I was dreaming about Fall Out Boy last night. In particular, being abroad somewhere and trying to go into a café for some coffee, only to find it rammed with FOB fans as they were doing some sort of secret gig. And I had to step over Pete Wentz to get to the horribly nasty toilets. Then they all cleared off and I could sit down.

I don’t know what this is telling me, apart from maybe I’ve been reading a bit too much icedmaple of late ;)

***

Anyway, who’s going to tell me about the Manics at the Shepherds Bush Empire then? Surprises? Treats? &c? Anyone?