My eyes are green
Cause I eat a lot of vegetables
It don't have nothing to do with your new friend

[Erykah Badu : Green Eyes]

Another "D" for 2004, Denial. Everyone's doing it so I'm going to start too.

More Blahniks, less eating, more porn. Oh yeah, and blame Janet for everything. Fucking everything.

'Shock Jock' slams Janet backlash:

"Then Janet whipped out her boob and it's all over,' he said"

Excellent. A new scapegoat, Janet's boob. I can blame it now for everything. Gained weight, alcoholism, inability to do any work on Fridays, diarrhoea and spying on our Kofi.

D-Nasty:

"Send me your resume and I'll see what I can do about maybe getting you an internship here at MassiveBank.

Your revolution could make a great essay for HBS, and in a few years you find yourself made principal at a Private Equity shop.

The buy side Guy. That's where the real action is.

Plus, with a name like Guy Philippe you could make your way onto Page Six for grinding with one of the Bush daughters.

Now that's success.

Think it over. You'll call me."

Oh DNasty. You are the real Dr Kananga. Live and Let Die Baby!

Well that's 19 fans she's got now.

First citizenship ceremony for UK:

"The 19 swore allegiance to the Queen, sang the national anthem and pledged to respect the UK's rights and freedoms. "

Christ. Talk about a mini-US. I had always thought that the nice thing about the process of obtaining citizenship in the UK was the fact that you didn't have to swear allegiance to anything, because I mean, why should you have to, the law being the law and all. I certainly wouldn't swear allegiance to a family of cretins with 12 toes so why should the Sharifis have to.

Fuck you Elizabeth and fuck you Charles.

Free Will Astrology : Taurus Horoscope:

"University students in Poland have discovered an unexpected way to boost their grades: wearing red underwear while taking tests. Ever since researchers presented evidence of the 'red underwear effect,' clothing stores have reported a run on scarlet-hued bras, underpants, and boxer shorts around exam times. Maybe it's merely the result of mass hysteria, but what difference does it make if it truly enhances the students' performance under pressure? I suggest you consider hopping on this trend, Taurus. What have you got to lose from regularly donning red skivvies during this, the final-exam phase of your yearly cycle? "

My kind of Astrology. Knickers.

Thailand: "You're Thailand!
Calmer and more staunchly independent than almost all those around you, you have a long history of rising above adversity. Recent adversity has led to questions about your sexual promiscuity and the threat of disease, but you still manage to attract a number of tourists and admirers. And despite any setbacks, you can really cook a good meal whenever it's called for. Good enough to make people cry."

OK people this is more like it.

Anne of Green Gables.

Christ. Exactly not what I was expecting.

"You're Anne of Green Gables!
by L.M. Montgomery
Bright, chipper, vivid, but with the emotional fortitude of cottage cheese, you make quite an impression on everyone you meet. You're impulsive, rash, honest, and probably don't have a great relationship with your parents. People hurt your feelings constantly, but your brazen honestly doesn't exactly treat others with kid gloves. Ultimately, though, you win the hearts and minds of everyone that matters. You spell your name with an E and you want everyone to know about it."

Via Our Sarah

¡Popular Fiction!

At the age of 57 and having finally, and thankfully, overcome the last vestiges of the menopause, Maccers often reminisced, and hazily wondered, how she had ended up temporarily single and permanently childless. It wasn’t that she regretted her endless years of freedom and folly, the amassing of a substantial wealth which had resulted, inter alia, in several immodest properties in London, New York and Umbria, but more that the last time she had considered motherhood, sometime in her early 30’s, she had rather, perhaps foolishly so it now seemed, just assumed that it would somehow happen. And, well, it obviously hadn’t. At times such as these she was wont to weigh up the qualities, or lack thereof, of some of the various suitors who had filtered in and flickered out of her life during the prime ovulation years.

On this evening in particular, after a pleasant amount of large gin and tonics and a Forsythe Saga DVD, her thoughts turned towards one who had been a nice enough chap and had always seemed impressively devoted.

Maccers remembered having decided that she doubted she could ever respect him. It hadn’t been his patent inability to leave the kids and the uncouth and decidedly dumpy wife so much as the time when he had handed her a paperback he had picked up from an airport with an embossed cover and had told her that he had really liked it.

There are things you have to tell him.

CLIENTS TO SEE

1. This affair is demeaning.
2. Violates decency. Am I just some scampish tart, some tartish scamp?
3. No emotional support here.
4. Why do you never say “I love you” or “Stay in may arms forever my little tadpole” or “Your eyes set me on fire my sweet nubkin”?

The next time he phones, he says: “I was having a dream about you and suddenly I woke up with a jerk and felt very uneasy.”

Say: “Yeah, I hate to wake up with jerks.”

He laughs, smooth, beautiful, and tenor, making you feel warm inside of your bones. And it hits you; maybe it all boils down to this; people will do anything, anything, for a really nice laugh.

Don’t lose your resolve. Fumble for your list. Sputter things out as convincingly as possible.

Say: “I suffer indignities at your hands. And agonies of duh feet. I don’t know why I joke. I hurt.”

“That is why.”
“What?”
“That is why.”
“Bit you don’t really care.” Wince. It sounds pitiful.
“But I do.”
For some reason this leaves you dumbfounded.

He continues: “You know my situation…or maybe you don’t.” Pause. “What can I do, Charlene? Stand on my goddamned head?”

Whisper: “Please. Stand on your goddamned head.”

“It is ten o’clock,” he says. “I’m coming over. We need to talk.”

From “How to be an Other Woman” in “Self-Help” by Lorrie Moore.

Thanks Elizabeth. You were right.

I can never really make up my mind with Hillary. I’d love to go out on the piss with her. I think I’d really love for her to be Mrs. President, even more so if she got rid of Bill and found a hot toyboy to be the First Boy so we could all rapture up on his nice tight trousers. Incidentally what would they call the husband of a lady prez – the First Gent? I can’t vote anyway so it doesn’t really matter but I have no feeling for American politicians at all. In the UK I always knew I loved John Smith and would never trust Blair farther than I could kick him. Thatcher was a total bitch in a really scary heinous way and Major was a boring, but essentially nice, bloke. Even the Currie affair couldn’t liven him up. I know my approach is over simplistic but I need to be able to trust people. Preferably fancy them.

What the hell is wor Hill thinking? I flicked over to Friends of Hillary to check out further the Warholesque Hill prints by Marc Jacobs and was horrified by the appalling jargon on her site. This has to be a spoof site along the lines of Kucinich, surely? Who thought this up, dearie? Chelsea on E? If you in any way take yourself remotely seriously for a jab at the title in 2008/12 you have to get rid of this. “Be a Hillraiser?” "Be a HillsAngel"? So twee I almost puked. Are you really trying to alienate the entire male populace? Cut the crap and get a blog and grill some cheese sarnies or something. Anything. Just not this.

Allah Is In The House:. Oh these are good.

Via Boston Confidential

Barenboim to leave US orchestra.

An amazing musician who was married to Jacqueline du Pre. In 1965, Ms Du Pre played the Concerto for Cello and Orchestra by Edward Elgar on the famous Davydov Stradivarius cello which, incidently, is now owned by Yo-Yo Ma.

Not that I always believe what I see in movies, but he apparently dumped her for another woman in Paris as her multiple sclerosis worsened. Lovely chap.

No one loves you when you are dying from diarrhea and have an enormous arse (really huge).

It’s true. You become instantly unlovable and easy to avoid. Still, I am one of those who need to be alone whilst in digestive hell. I can’t stand for anyone to see me puke, I’d rather it all went in my hair than have someone there, holding it out of my face. Leave me alone and turn up the stereo.

I have heard talk of never ordering sushi on Mondays. I bought sashimi from the Garden of Eden the day after Presidents’ Day and I thought I was going to die 2.30am Wednesday morning. I don’t think I will ever be able to eat sashimi again now unless someone makes it in front of me.

Hey y’all at GoE, I wasted a day’s holiday on your shitty tuna. You owe me. Howsabout trying to restock the Marriage Freres tea once in a while, you cretins? I might forgive you if you did that.

Polaroid Warns Film Users Not to 'Shake It':

"'In fact, shaking or waving can actually damage the image. Rapid movement during development can cause portions of the film to separate prematurely, or can cause 'blobs' in the picture.' "

Polaroid are a bunch of boring bastards.

Whereupon I beat the Spinning Instructor to death with her water bottle. It takes 15 minutes, tops.

At 7.30am after 45 minutes of spinning I am never going to react favorably to “Guys get UP we are taking it anaerobic. I need you to double time and give me all you got”

Lady, I gave at the office and I got burned badly by an ex who said the same thing in 1998. Plus, my lung exploded at 7.15am.

Amazon Glitch Unmasks War of Reviewers.

I'm all for anonymous posting as long as it is evil and double. It's interesting that "A reader from New York" posting maliciously would actually do so under their real Amazon identity. Amateurs.

Speaking of Amazon, I note with interest that the Gold Box now features a hold button so that one can view other Gold Box items before buying the one you want. It takes away a lot of the purchase dilemma.

"Shit I can get the ice cream maker I have decided I really want but what if there's a My Little Pony gift set 2 items away?"

It's always fascinated me whether the Gold Box is made up of 10 different items every day or whether you are clicking away on one enormous list of products. If I buy item 4 today will today's item 5 be tomorrow's item 1? I have to really try to see the inherent value in each thing. It's crushing to click and move on to the next item and when you get to the end you realise that the new Tefal Ultraglide Iron was the best thing there was all day, perhaps even all year, and that now you can never have it. Ever. Again. I find the same problem with men.

This new hold feature is excellent though. You can keep the object of your desire on the back burner whilst you check out what else is coming up. That's why I would recommend copping off with each bloke you meet. You just never know what else is out there.

Biting Bedbugs Spread Across the Country.

Yum great news. As someone who got massacred by these fuckers when I was in Cuba in the 70's, a word of advice. There are 2 things which will stop them biting: leave the lights on or sprinkle pepper in the bed.

You can kill them by leaving the mattress outside in the sun for a few days.

Adam Moss.

Ohmigod, how hot is this guy? Check out the lips. Now if Wes had had those there's no way he'd have to endorse that other geez.

Ohmigod though, how hot is Adam Moss?

D-Nasty made me laugh right out loud and lord knows I'm a frazzled wreck today.

Cheers hon.

BBC NEWS | Health | Hair could tell drinking secrets: "Dr Wurst said: 'The only way to remove the evidence is to shave all body hair.' "

Well there you go then, Eurotrash. We'll have to go bald all over.

Clay Kitten Shooting II / Game. You may wonder why, but today is the day for blowing the heads off kittens.

Genius.

Help

There is a woman who keeps calling me. She knows how much money I have. She keeps saying things like "Aggressive Growth" and "Bond". I keep saying, fab, fab.

She's taking all my money away from me. No longer will I be able to withdraw wods and slap it down on a shop counter any more. I won't be able to see the telephone number that is my account balance at the ATM.

She says this is called "Financial Responsibility". She talks about "Retirement".

I'm really scared. I don't understand any of this. I have no security blanket making less than 1% a year.

Mum, where's that trust fund thing I'm supposed to have?

I’m a little barrel today. I say little, but it’s a lie. I am distended. Packed full of the best meal I have ever had, served with the best service. Stuffed with a selection of 5 desserts that each contained 1,000 calories. I checked myself out in the mirror in the ladies at Le Bernardin to see a post-coital flush on my chest. Lordy, was everything there perfect. Except, of course, for the wedding ring on our waiter.

One interesting feature of the wine list at le B is the Screaming Eagle. $1,200 for the 1998 and $900 for the 1999. As I remember that’s about $200 more for the 1998 I found on Ebay, and then you had to buy the crate of 3. Ooooh for a lottery win. Oooh for the combination of best food ever and best wine. Decadence, reveal yourself in my checking account!

Kerry Sweeps to 2 Victories as Clark Drops Out of Race.

And now I'll never be the First Lady. My no-lipped lover drops out of the race.

Roomie: Hey you don't want a military man anyways.
Me: Yeah, but they are so tidy.

BBC NEWS | Technology | Robot balloons could explore Mars.

Excellent. More exotic holiday destinations for Eurotrash and me.

Yikes.

Don’t tell anyone, but I have been feeling a teensy bit guilty about exposing Eurotrash’s moustachioed lover as Hall of Famer Rollie Fingers. I’m sure Mr Fingers has some sort of family that’s not too keen about this exposure and so, Mrs Fingers, if indeed there is such a beard, I apologise and in recompense I will share with you from my own personal Hall of Fame, Maccers’ Hall of Shame, my encounters with facial hair.

[p.s. Mrs Fingers, I get the whole double pun with the last name. I saw him play the belly of Eurotrash like it was a B4 Tonewheel Organ!]

First proper Boyfriend (Age 14)

Name: Not sure. Could have been either Neil or Brian.
Age: 24
Nickname: Nelly
Height: 5’8
Build: Stocky
Appearance: Fairly grim
Facial hair status: ‘Tache. Pretty thick, used to skim the head of pints.
Teeth: Brown / green
Occupation: Sheet Metal Welder (why of course). Superior to regular welder, obvs.
Reaction of friends: “What the fuck are you doing with that manky toothed fucking midget.
My response: “Eeeeee, nah, he’s got a Ford Grenada and he takes us to the Bay Horse” (Bay Horse being an out of toon dancing event of a Sunday night – infamous underage drinking and glassing establishment)
Reason for break-up: I would never let him touch me, obvs. Henceforth generally known around the town as “tight”. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

Followed shortly thereafter by his best mate

Name: Tony
Age: 24
Nickname: Bony, pronounced up North as Borny.
Height: 6’ (Moving on up………………)
Build: Muscley. This gem was unemployed and spent a lot of time at the gym. Oh, and on the sunbeds.
Appearance: You’ve seen “Snatch”, you know what a pikey looks like.
Facial hair status: Ratty ‘tache.
Teeth: Had some. Rock on.
Occupation: None apparent. I saw him sell drugs a few times and so believed he garnered a certain income from such dealings.
Reaction of friends: “Eeee yah lucky bitch. He drives a Ferrari.” This was, ludicrously enough, true.
My response: “Eeee I nah, but he’s always trying to shag me, like, and it gets in the way of my German revision.”
Reason for break-up: He showed at my house to pick me up one day in a banana hammock (I swear on my life that was all he was wearing) and my mother answered the door. He was holding tulips he snagged from the middle of a roundabout down the street and my mother did not approve of his vandalism. That night my father forbade me to ever see him again. A month later he got sent down for five years for car theft and drug dealing. Class.

ET, Was it Tom Clarke? He looks awful familiar?

The Handlebar (moustache) Club. OOoooo Eurotrash, does your latest paramour have graspable extremities?

World Beard and Moustache Championships Carson City 2003. Eurotrash Porn. More to come.

Breakupservice.com:

"I met what I thought was a sweet girl. We dated a couple of times then I realized she was completely psycho. She would not take any of the hints I gave as I didn't want her around but one phone call with a follow-up letter from breakupservice.com did the trick I never heard from her again. Thanks! Charlie M."

Oh those great guys at Welsome to Dumpsville: Population you have me on speed dial.

Via Old Hag

NEW YORK CITY SENSUAL INTIMATE GLAMOUR PORTRAIT STUDIO

I always have a hard time trying to figure out what to get myself each year for Valentines Day, other than just drunk and depressed. But not this year, because a sensual intimate portrait sounds perfect, although apparently you have to be knocked up to get one of these done. I wonder if they can photoshop out the tattoos.

Eurotrash : it's all about me.

There's nothing really to add to this. It's impossible.

Has swearing lost its power to shock?.

I'm homesick for acceptable foul language. I'm homesick for regional accents. I'm homesick for non-disgusting weather. I'm homesick for men who have sex with their socks on. And I really want some chips and curry sauce, from the chippie in Mowden.

BBC NEWS | Health | Pain from a woman will hurt less.
See, told you.

So next time I say, "This isn't going to hurt you as much as you think it will." Believe me. I have empirical knowledge.

ThisisLondon:

"Mr Taylor said Lawrence 'massaged him, made love to him' and left the room to fetch some lager.
He said: 'She took two knives, returned to the bedroom and she stabbed Adrian Anson four times. "

Ah ha. Basic Instinct, the Welsh version. I wonder whether she crossed her legs loadsa times during questioning as well?

via dongresin

twinkle twinkle blah blah blah etc.:

There are many reasons why I am in love with Dana. This is one:

"But seriously, fuck you. I don't get paid to write this blog. And I certainly don't get paid to be stalked, which is precisely what can happen when you reveal your identity. Heck, I'm only semianonymous and I have some jamoke in England I've never met posting photos of me on a site I have no connection to. So yeah, nevermind the fact that my employers don't like me slacking on the clock. I, personally, like to walk home every night not worrying about whether I'm going to be greeted by some crazy on my doorstep who will read me a 400-stanza love poem right before he penetrates me with a broken beer bottle. So, in short: I don't owe you anything. Oh, and: Get fucked in hell, Farah. And maybe take a Journo Bootcamp 101 class at MediaBistro"

arrrrrgh why can't I have said it like that, Mum?

smitten: downtown. Smitten offers up advice to guys on how to get a blow job. Personally I have always found the following rather compelling:

1. A gift. Something nice, mind you, like cubic zirconia. From Elizabeth Duke.
2. A roll of notes. Nothing less than a twenty, obviously.
3. The offer of a better life.
4. A halfway decent glass of Chardonnay (NEVER Californian, though).
5. Lie.
6. And if all else fails, dip your knob in Cointreau. Guaranteed winner.

Churrascaria Plataforma Tribeca. Wow this surprised me. I can't even place where this is going to be exactly - what was there before? - it's just up from Layla and all I can think of is an antique store - it's going to be next to El Teddys I think. I guess it's for the Atkins freaks downtown. Ah well. At least I can get half a cow delivered to my door now.

New York magazine also reviewed my current favourite place in the entire world this week, mainly for the total hotness of their sommelier. This is a guy who can not only guess exactly which wine you really meant to order, but the colour of your knickers as well. A man in whose arms one would wish to die. Public.

"Seafood, in fact, is a big strength at Public, a mild surprise considering the Southern Hemisphere’s outsize reputation for beef and lamb.

Sorry mate, but anyone who has been to Australia will know that the fish there is out of this world. Most of it you will never even have heard of, like Morton Bay Bugs which are quite possibly my favourite crustaceans ever.

The English gastropub is finally hitting NYC with the opening of The Spotted Pig. Fab. In the West Village too. That's so that they can get their sausages from Myers of Keswick, I'm guessing.

Sacramento is the new New York. Probably. I bet it's warmer anyway. Also, I am enormously flattered to be wedged between TMFTML and Gawker. One of the biggest ego wanks I have had in a long time, that.

Groundhog Booed As He Sees His Shadow. NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO. That's it. I'm moving to LA.

Conversations with my hairdresser

The best hairdresser in the World: You have breakage. I want you to come back for a fortifying treatment.
Me: OK. When? Oh what’s breakage?
TBHITW: Look at this here. You hair has snapped off. It’s probably from the continuous use of peroxide.
Me: Ah ok. When I am washing my hair I noticed that it balls up back there and so I just snap it off.
TBHITW: Oh my God. Don’t ever, ever, ever do that again, ok? Be very, very careful when you wash you hair. Do not use hot water and make sure the pressure is turned down.
Me: Ah ok.
TBHITW: Mmmm this is inspiring me. I think we are going to make this a feature. I think we should cut away around it. [Cutting]. There you go. Think of it as a palm tree on the back of your head.
Me: On my god that is fab. I love it.
TBHITW: Yep. We’ll call it the Chemical Cut. You are going to be the coolest lawyer in New York.
Me: I am.