Overheard in New York: Out of the Mouths of Babes:

"Woman #1: It's really small, you know, but the sex is wonderful.
Woman #2: You mean he's rich?
Woman #1: Yeah. Exactly.
--Union Square"

The best thing I have read in ages. I want to marry Woman #2.

Mos s a ril gud boy dogg!:

"Mows beeg lest ef SKIRRY THENGS
Dir reeders,
A lat ef yew hef gud daggs and I went 2 hilp yew 2 bi a bitter unner 4 thim. Hallween s uvver bet mebbee yew dunt no thatt allat ef theengs R stil viry skirry 4 yor dagg! So I putt tugeter thees lest ef thengs thatt yew shul no SKIR DAGGS ALLAT. I hup yew wil tra nat 2 espose yor dagg to this skirry theengs.
Seerly,
Mos."


Ah shit, this is the funniest thing I have seen in ages. It's just beautiful.

Another weekend. Another article on blogging. Can we just stop with all of this? Please? There has to be something else to talk about. Like shoes or frocks or handbags. Or taking plastic bags out of trees.


Also as pointed out to me by the fabulous dolls at Loss of Consortium, they wouldn't be seen dead in DC so git yer facts checked, NYT.

Big Hong Kong Real Estate Offering Must Be Postponed

There but for the grace of God........ I wonder how many lawyers will get fired for this.

"A 67-year-old public housing tenant forced the Hong Kong government and three of the world's largest financial institutions on Sunday to postpone indefinitely a $2.73 billion real estate offering.
After five days of nearly constant meetings, Hong Kong officials announced late Sunday night that they would withdraw the offering for the giant real estate investment trust because of a lawsuit filed by Lo Siu-lan, the tenant, who lives on $427 a month in government welfare assistance and says she never learned to write."

Christmas means shopping for Christmas presents for the nieces. This year it means buying books as well as fairy princess dresses and so it was that I spent an hour and a half sitting on the floor in the screaming brat section of B&N Unoin Square rereading all the Jean de Brunhoff Babar classics. Ahahah Babar is the best. Babar and his beautiful balloon.

I also bought a Walter the Farting Dog book. Cos I'm an Auntie.

Google to scan famous libraries

"Scanned pages from books in the public domain will then be made available for search and reading online.
The full libraries of Michigan and Stanford universities, as well as archives at Harvard, Oxford and the New York Public Library are included. "

Google is doing God's work in this, especially since they are not getting paid for it. Now I just wish they would speed up gmail so I don't have to refresh page to be able to view my email.

France shows off tallest bridge

"The world's highest road bridge has been inaugurated in southern France by President Jacques Chirac.
The Millau bridge over the River Tarn in the Massif Central mountains is more than 300m (984ft) high - taller even than the country's Eiffel Tower."

Oh wow this is one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a long time. Scroll down and click through the slide show.

things that piss me off:

"Also, Brits: Can you stop calling a piece of butter a knob? It's just revolting. Thank you."

In response: No. It's childishly hilarious and I love it. It is one of the only things that got me through the compulsory lessons on housekeeping for girls at the grim northern comprehensive school I attended when a bairn. Boys did metal work and lessons on how to fix cars. I once spent an entire class learning how to clean carpet.

"Elbow grease, girls!" The teachwitch would shout. "Elbow grease!"

We also learnt how to use a sewing machine but I was pulled out of that class on production of my first skin tight mini-skirt.

Shame on Me

I am a total sappy weepy bastard when it comes to movies. And there is nothing I like better than a totally self-absorbing weep. Ah, I like the night life and I love the melodrama. The impossibility of the love in The English Patient sent me spiraling down the beautiful back alley of tragedy and had me reclining on a chaise longue for weeks. Back of hand on forehead. Because, you see, I KNOW how it all is. I have banged unblinged fists on restaurant tables and declared my unrequited love and an acceptance of its ultimate failure. It was all a load of shite mind you and I blame the film industry for making us believe that this is ever acceptable behaviour. Once the mood moves me, I find it hard to escape the clutches of melodrama even if my original sentiment was as fragile, and as it happens, as temporary, as my overbleached locks.

Thank god I went to see Closer, then, with mates. Mates from whom the endless derision which would have ensued if I had blubbed kept me from so doing last weekend. Sitting here in the office today, however, room mate slaps on the Damien Rice track from the film (pronounced filum where I am from, although never, ever by me) and I feel my spine freeze and the hairs on my sacrum stand up. Argh. How beautiful is love when it’s shitty.

I am most vulnerable to tears when I am on a plane. I woke an entire economy class the first time I saw Steel Magnolias en route to somewhere exotic. Steel Magnolias, people. Do you see my problem here? I have a theory that this is triggered by the isolation that comes with being 30,000 feet above the earth with no guarantee of a safe descent. I secretly think it is because I am pissed and alone. Always pissed. Always alone.

Last Saturday at the movies I leant over to Stacy No Blog and confessed.

“You know I hope I don’t cry. I have a big thing with crying at movies. Especially on planes.”

“Really? Did you cry last time you were on a plane?”

“Yep.”

“What did you see?”

“Dodgeball.”

I would go on but I fear that the resultant abuse is not suitable for your tender hearts.

Troops' Queries Leave Rumsfeld on the Defensive:

"A few minutes later, a soldier from the Idaho National Guard's 116th Armored Cavalry Brigade asked Mr. Rumsfeld what he and the Army were doing 'to address shortages and antiquated equipment' that will affect National Guard soldiers heading to Iraq.
Mr. Rumsfeld seemed taken aback by the question and a murmur began spreading through the ranks before he silenced it. 'Now, settle down, settle down,' he said. 'Hell, I'm an old man, it's early in the morning and I'm gathering my thoughts here.'"

Bush and Rumsfield seem to suffer from the same memory loss and speech impedement. At least now we know to whom he was hooked up during the debates.

Argh. Every day I want to wake up like Pammy Ewing in Dallas. Only instead of finding Bobby alive and glistening coming out of the shower, I want to see Gore in his second term.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Eliot Spitzer, the two-term New York State attorney general who has gained a national reputation uncovering corrupt practices throughout the financial and insurance industries, said yesterday that he would run for governor in 2006, and pledged to fix what he called the "crisis" of New York's dysfunctional government.

Mr. Spitzer's announcement might have been a formality, since he long ago signaled his intention to run, but it served to firm up his position nearly two years in advance as the likely Democratic nominee, making it easier to raise money, line up endorsements and build momentum.

I don’t know why I love him but I do. I can’t help getting more than a little worked up about our Mr Spitzer. In a carnal way. More so than I ever could about Clinton. He’s not as cute or as chrasmatic or as likeable but there is something that man that sucks me in. I’ve actually met him, once, very briefly, and he’s not the kind of guy that can guess the colour of your knickers just by looking into your eyes. It’s not that. And there is more than a hint of sexual perversion about him.

The thing is, and this is a very important thing, for me, any road, is that he’s not afraid of anyone. Or that is what his public façade puts across. The endurance test for me will be when he is all powerful, and he will be, and governor, and he will be, and he doesn’t have the David and Goliath analogy. What’s he gonna do when he is a Goliath? Can he even exist outside of his self-enclosed stereotype or will he just look like an overweight bully?

And will I still love him?

Justices Pick Apart Ban on Wine Sales From State to State:

It's about time we got rid of this ridiculous shipment ban.

" If the Supreme Court argument Tuesday on interstate wine sales proves to be a reliable roadmap to the eventual decision, consumers who want to order wine directly from out-of-state wineries will soon be able to do so with the court's blessing.
The justices appeared notably unmoved by the arguments offered by New York and Michigan in defense of laws that prohibit the direct shipment of wine from other states while permitting in-state wineries to ship their products to their customers' homes."

Urgh.

My hands are raw, RAW!, from the mistletoe belt I have been making for the office Christmas party next week. I fear the office Christmas party like no other since a date is required and last year’s took the opportunity to tell me I wasn’t The One at said event. Nice. In a classy kind of way. The year before that, well, I can’t even think about it without getting the kind of pain shooting through my skull that would imply I had bleached my teeth. Blech. My poor, confused co-workers. Poor, confused me.

The Rules

Rule Number 1

If I know you and you shag (or not, as the case may be) someone I have a genius idea to try and set you up with, you must answer my calls in the morning or call me back IMMEDIATELY. I need to know things. I cannot be left in this kind of potentially copulative disarray.

It’s been a while

I once said when asked on camera what was going through my mind as a Rhodesian Ridgeback tried to hump more than just my leg. Never fall over in front of a big horny dog and if you do, never face down.

But no, I mean I’ve been away. In Blighty, to be exact. I have conversed properly with my eldest niece for the first time and was blown away by how wonderful that is. She is quite the most delightful human being I have ever met. My heart is in ribbons and so will be my credit card after the massive presents I now must buy her have been shipped to the UK.

Interesting development is that she is not so photogenic as she was on my last visit. She is stunning, of course, we are related, natch, but there is an unease and a slight forcing of the smile which was not present in the million and one photos I have taken of her when she was younger. I discussed this with Eurotrash, as proud spinster aunts do, and she informed me that her gorgeous niece also went through this kind of phase and is now photogenically beautiful again. Phew. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you have to look hot in photos to get ahead in life. That’s one thing that always pisses me off. In photos I never look like the absolute fox I am in the mirror. Fucking hate those cameras.