Beta English

Delirium

2009-05-21T15:07:00.006-04:00

"Do I have dementia?"

This is the first thought in my head when I stir at 4 a.m. In the moment, I am certain of it.

Then I realise I've hardly eaten in four days, only been able to sleep 2 hrs in 2 days and, so, occupied myself reading Chelsea Handler's memoirs back to back so that her voice is now stuck in my head & I'm having imagined conversations with her dad and Black Magic and Black Magic's mom as we share forty-ounce Coronas in Costa Rica.

I'm making up words when I'm not mixing up words that are connected by sound or subject but not interchangeable e.g Cherry Handler.

I can barely type or make full sentences.

I'm more worried for Miss Chelsea though.

"Those that doubt me suck cock by choice."

2009-01-22T13:34:00.004-05:00

I love perfume. I quake before perfume counters. Those girls behind the counters are more perfect than supermodels. Perfectly coiffed and respectably accented as they impeccably pronounce "parfum." The patience of saints, as they repeatedly hand you sachets of coffee to sniff.

There are apparently some shops where they toss together a customer's favourite scents in a bottle.

ginger
A1 steak sauce
pipe ash
scotch
petrol
shoe polish

I obviously grew up shining shoes in a private gentlemen's club near an Agip.

Back to the perfume; must find a shop that shall accept my challenge.

Jolly Good Fellow, indeed.

2008-10-02T17:12:00.015-04:00

So... is -- like -- growing up finding out how considerably full of shite you are? And continuously full of shite at that, what with not spelling the word as shit and for using two kinds of ellipses, in the same sentence, then starting the followinning sentence with the word "and," compounded with the phrase "what with," inventing the word "followinning" and maybe abusing the word "compound" and to top it all off, Everest style, taking the highest mountain's name in vain?

I'm a bit long in the tooth (Just watched "Venus" and O'Toole does have long teeth.) to be this wordy; it is no longer cute. In fact, it never was, and I am now slapping my younger self, hard, the way she likes it.

hopscotch

2007-12-21T14:49:00.000-05:00

Running errands, I realise the cashiers are overly solicitous. Too much attention makes me paranoid, so I sneak into an employees-only loo to make sure I look clean and proper.

In certain lighting it is hard to see but, sure enough, I have a green ring circling my cheekbone.

Ring Ring to BFG:

- Did I fall down on Wednesday?

- No, why?

- I have a black eye.

- Well, this is what I remember; you walking smack into the kitchen pillar, yelping in pain and then immediately forgetting about it since you walk back into the sitting room, say you don’t know why but your shoulder hurts, then you lie down on the sofa and pass out.

- Isn’t that called a concussion?

- I think it's called a Johnnie Walker.

evasive manouevres

2007-12-10T22:35:00.000-05:00

I have been thinking about death since I was four and plotting my own since I was fourteen, which is why I would find an accidental death to be a slap in the face, really.

Car accidents, after home or bodily invasion, are a nagging fear. I avoid driving in busy traffic and, if I have to, I am overly cautious, add precipitation to the mix and I get cursed at a lot. [What I’m hoping is that they’re saying, ‘Very particular about her car lengths, that one,’ even as they point with their meanie finger.] Whatever, Physics always wins, geniuses.

Anyway, I’m determined that my possibly final last words on seeing IT coming, car or comet or mushroom cloud, will not be the classic “oh no" or the profane, but... and this took several weeks of deliberation and discussion with the BFG... it’s finally:

ENERGISE!

Initially is was “Ready to transport. Energise.” But then BFG said, “How long exactly do think you will have, love?” Which led to the truncation.

Guns don't kill people; Physics kills people

2007-09-06T16:19:00.000-04:00

The other month or so, I narrowly missed a fantastic freeway pileup, but what really almost kills me is that as it happens, as the blue car ahead swings this way and that in reaction to other cars I cannot yet see, as I begin to apply brakes from a more than reasonable stopping distance (with respect to the rain) only to spy a behemoth of an SUV in the rearview (catching up), as I realise that not stopping would be bad, certainly, but there is such a thing as stopping too much that is even badder perhaps, as I decide if I want my bonnet in a stranger's boot or a stranger’s bonnet in my boot and weigh the financial and the medical and (at worst) the eternal ramifications of ramming or being rammed, boot or bonnet, bonnet or boot, while braking softer only to discover that the blue car is now spinning or being spun, winding in, winding out, clockwise, counter and I am now close enough to see the steering wheel in driver's furious hands fighting the four on the road, playing with physics, as I brake more, now close enough to take in how good a driver he must really be to end up smack in the middle of those stripes on the tarmac, inches from unforgiving cement and me, as I speed up, yes up, to escape the SUV, what really incenses me, the true bee in my bonnet, is that the last sound I would have heard on this earth was Fergie, yea, The Dutchess!

Not a score to die to.

What score would you?

Bra As Machine

2007-04-20T13:12:00.000-04:00

Ipex, Upex

We don’t know about you, but we thought something touted as the world’s most technologically advanced bra would have some sort of radio transmitter (nothing to do with amplification or oscillation, we promise), or at the very least a flash drive (seeing as we have a lot to back up), and we cannot wait for a Smart Bra of nanobots* that reconfigure according to circumstances (and maybe even some pomp).

*with complementary carrying case

melanchoholism: Please die responsibly

2007-04-10T09:38:00.000-04:00

As appropriate as euthanasia is in the case of this blog, as much as I can't seem to feed it, I can’t seem to kill it.

unhipster

2006-08-31T23:37:00.000-04:00

Oh, I see. So there's no actual band called Fall Out At The Disco?

C8H10N4O2

2006-07-27T20:40:00.000-04:00

Diet Cola tastes like nothing, an improvement on Cola, which tastes like sh--.

see jane soft

2006-07-20T15:19:00.000-04:00

So Candida Royalle does not in fact mean Yeast Queen. Tricky name for anyone to christened themselves, leave alone a pornographer.

Yesterday, I watched Boogie Nights (1997) and I am embarrassed to say I recognised Nina Hartley in it. My BFG was first proud then ashamed of thus his corruptive influence on me.

But the thing with pornography is that there's much too much sex in it.

Labour begins at home.

2006-04-29T15:09:00.000-04:00

The day after tomorrow is Labour Day, at least at home, that's why I thought people were saying you couldn't wear white for the month of May, and anyway, the only time I ever wore that much white was the day of my First Holy Communion, and maybe my Baptism, although the Baptism dress had these silly little pink sprinkles along the bottom, the hem, when the whole idea of hems is to finish things off quietly and efficiently and, at their royal best, INVISIBLY, certainly not with rhinestones, oh my, does anything assault the sensibilities more? Diamonds. For I can think of better uses for Carbon. Like making pencils. Or power. Or people.

Sinners Can't Be Choosers

2006-04-12T18:19:00.000-04:00

Wednesday is for confessions.

I still like The Onion. And not in the so-called ironic way.

I still haven't been to Thirsty's.

I sometimes watch House M.D. Is it just me or does Hugh Laurie have that "I'm not an American, no matter how good my performance, I promise" air that British actors do when they're playing American characters? I can imagine House as priest, and his saying to me, "Quit being so damn repentant," all the while wink-winking.

I wish I had a friend to quote House with.
I wish I had a friend. I abandoned them almost a year ago.
I'm supposedly going back to school in September.
I am afraid.

V for Focus

2006-03-19T21:32:00.000-05:00

Saw V for Vendetta (2005). Have a girl-crush on Natalie. Overlooked the British accents enough to find the film quite palatable.

Much has been said or written about the film's politics, but we remain unconcerned. V for Vendetta features, most importantly, the best allegory of ~~romance~~ love since Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005):
"And we'll keep pooping the same poop back and forth. Forever."
more affectionately referred to as ))<>((

Perfection is that full stop before Forever. But back to the first film.

Me: Because, who doesn't want to be tortured out of love?
BFG: Er, everybody?

Maybe what I liked about V was its particular commitment. You know those all films where the apparent good guy (victim) spends approximately 110minutes running after the alleged bad guy (victimiser), finally catches him at gunpoint (or similar cliche) only to listen as a policeman or similar sympathiser (or supposed voice of reason) urges them that revenge only makes the victim as bad as their victimiser, and so the good guy surrenders his weapon and is seen in the next scene taking a shower or visiting the cemetery? I hate those films.

None of that rubbish with V. His fight with the dozen guards was climactic for me as celluloid has never been. Never mind that it felt a little like Mission 6 of Enter The Matrix; his use of knives, rather than guns, made it less movie-ish, redeemed it and made it seem just and very red. Afterward, it is finished for me and I do not care what happens. The fate of the civilised world? Best wishes with that. The End.

BFG: So you want now that I visit you with mask, knives and alliteration?
Me: Maybe not the alliteration.

Super Cup

2006-02-05T20:59:00.000-05:00

We have nothing against football (American). We do not understand football (American). We feel that to follow football (American) would be disloyal to football (soccer). Actually, we're just too lazy. The only thing we have against football (American) is having to write football opening bracket soccer closing bracket each time we mean to say football. For this reason, we consider referring to football (soccer) as simply, undisputably, "the meaning of life."

Not worth noting is how both games are defined in the dictionary, how Cambridge smothers the life out them as only Her Royal Highness can:

football (UK American football)
a game for two teams of eleven players in which an oval ball is moved along the field by running with it or throwing it

football (US soccer)
a game played between two teams of eleven people, where each team tries to win by kicking a ball into the other team's goal

She was unable, however, to sift the sensuality fully from the following game:

rugby (FORMAL rugby football)
a sport where two teams try to score points by carrying an oval ball across a particular line or kicking it over and between an H-shaped set of posts

No mention was made of Australian Football. The Palace Secretary quashed rumours that the queen considered it too sexy to define.

Humbert Humbug

2006-01-16T11:07:00.000-05:00

I think my BFG has a crush on a 16 year-old girl. This would alarm me, were I not aware of his predisposition.

Please note that my BFG is a decent, clean, nice-smelling, law-abiding citizen who prepares his income tax months in advance. He is even kind.

But we cannot choose what we find beautiful. In his case, youth. In my case, wisdom.

I have decided to believe that a true and lasting relationship is based on complementary neurosis.

It is a little unfair. If he were to indulge his attraction to girls, he would become a social and perhaps legal outcast. When I indulge my attraction to older men, (How often, you wonder?), nothing bad happens, except maybe some clichés.

I might change yet. When I am no longer young. Or when I become the wise one.

But I don't think my BFG's desire will go away. Poor guy. There will always be girls, women younger than he, whereas, in fifty years, all older men will be dead, or too blind to read to me.

2006-01-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

New Year is like taking off in an aeroplane for the umpteenth time and being sure that, this time, it will certainly finally crash.

NOW WITH ADDED WHIMSY!

2005-12-22T08:43:00.000-05:00

I apologise to six people for my absence. And recently I have been making upsetting associations, e.g. absence -> abscess.

I will interrupt my latest major depressive episode to make this comment about James Blunt. What can I say about James Blunt that acknowledges that I indeed know nothing about him apart from the one song I saw? (Because, thanks to portable personal electronics, and the phrase portable personal electronics makes me think of, pardon me, Tampax Compact, you will never just hear your songs, you shall see them too and believe!)

Ah yes, James Blunt, whose music I have not fully experienced and neither like nor dislike, wrote a song called You're Beautiful. (beau till full-- sorry, that ill association thing again). This song repeats the phrase You're Beautillfull no less than nine times, and if that is not an indication that it is written solely to appeal to women, it features some very, very, very, very earnest vocals and acoustic guitar.

I suppose I could simply say that the song You're Beautiful is lame. It has that calculated and contrived bittersweetness (bitweetness) (startness) (sorry) of songs that are written to appeal to woman, perfected in Dave Matthews' (no extra "s" after the apostrophe because he isn't Jesus) Crash Into Me and a feature of every single song that John the Mayer has ever written. (Please note that I have not heard every single song that John the Mayer has sung.)

And that, like George W. Bush's faked idiocy, is just another diabolical plan to rule the world.

When I grow up, I want to be a Judi Dench.

2005-11-23T11:04:00.000-05:00

For now, I would love her to call me "a young woman of inferior birth" as she does to Elizabeth Bennet. Of course, if this were any other actress, I wouldn't eat that line up, but if Dame Judi Dench were to tell me that I were "of no importance to the world," I would thank her for putting me in my place, while curtseying to save time.

Forget Darcy.

Peter & Susan & Edmund & Lucy (2005)

2005-11-22T13:32:00.000-05:00

I may have lost the heart of my BFG to River Tam. Yes, we finally saw Serenity (2005). River is more mentally ill than I am. She kills full grown men with her bare hands. If she had a blog, she would probably update regularly and without fail. She is brilliant. She is the sun, and I am moonshine. And that is my concession speech.

Speaking of movies that you have to see, or movies that you feel that you have to see, don't really have to see but probably will, because, truly, how many movies are there that have to be seen? If one watched no films at all, one could probably survive socially, even though they would miss a lot of references-- people might think them sombre or foreign. Or maybe just religious.

Surely, that wouldn't work with books. If you say you don't watch films, they think you are odd; if you say you don't like books, they assume you are stupid. My BFG doesn't like books. But he has one of the severest cases of common sense that I have ever seen. I like books, but I am quite stupid.

So the hundreds of Penguin Classics that were fed to me in my childhood didn't quite work, but they were a lot of fun to buy and read. Except the Chronicles of Narnia, which weren't actually Penguin Classics, but bring us back to movies that you will probably see. If you are going to see this year's The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, please may I suggest that you see the 1988 BBC version?

Despite being a good little Christian girl then and seeing it 50 times and reading each and every book in the Chronicles of Narnia, I didn't "get" that Aslan was Jesus, in fact I remember saying to my sister, "Isn't it blasphemous that Aslan comes back to life?"

I have heard this movie likened to watching paint dry or watching water boil. As a tea-drinker, I watch water boil quite a bit, and it can be fascinating, so find this movie quickly and watch it at once without stopping-- before the "good" version comes out in December.

In Summary:
1. Fawns still terrify me.
2. Narnia Beavers > Tim the Beaver
3. C.S. Lewis makes Christianity attractive (his non-fiction).
4. I would kiss someone named Edmund.
5. My life is empty of Turkish delight.

What I Have Learned

2005-11-06T19:19:00.000-05:00

It is possible to be drunk and bored in the company of somewhat naked girls.

Episode 17: Eliza needs a strong daddy.

2005-10-23T16:00:00.000-04:00

"Dr. Dwyer likes a strong daddy."

You understand that when Det. Goren says this, he does so in the least salacious manner possible, yet you drop a small, cold lump of Dulce de Leche on your bare leg, upsetting your bowl of ice-cream as you clutch your hand to your quickening breast (literary, not anatomical).

This man who plays this detective, you have noticed him before, even in that movie, The Cell, distracting you from the awfulness of its lead actress whose name you shall not further perpetuate by mentioning.

You do not remember him from Adventures in Babysitting, but you noticed him even then, in a movie you watched while you were lying on the carpet wondering why it took so many years for some movies to travel from America to your world when you knew for a fact, i.e. your dad told you, that it took less than a day for a person to travel to America by aeroplane, wondering what it was like to be an American teenager singing to the radio while preparing for a date because you knew you would never be an American never be a teenager and certainly never be going on a date when lo and behold, your wonderings were interrupted by the sight of Dawson wielding a hammer on your TV and you, strangely enough, felt the same way that you did after sneaking a fourth biscuit at tea when you knew 18 biscuits divided by 6 people equals 3 times. But childhood wonderings are never interrupted for long and very soon you were wondering why a car mechanic would be holding a hammer and not a spanner; as far as you knew, mechanicary was about screwing and unscrewing and raising and lowering and filling and siphoning, coaxing rather than forcing.

Now you are experiencing the same fleeting moment that you did then, of knowing sex without having it, for this Detective Goren and that Mechanic Dawson are one and the same and you are seeing him as Thor.

See, Vincent D'Onofrio is the kind of man you congratulate yourself for noticing and fancying because he is not an obvious hunk, the kind of actor who doesn't play beautiful. This is until you remember that he is a reported 6' 4" and size 13 (which came up in a specific episode of Criminal Intent and is not something you found out on purpose). As your caramel melts into the carpet, you realise your attraction to him in his roles may have everything to something to do with evolution and little to nothing to do with your subtle taste in men. Shame on you. You return to your less obvious but probably equally uninformed celebrity crushes, your Steve Buscemi, your William H. Macy and Billy Bob Thorntons.

2005-09-29T14:18:00.000-04:00

Do you have problems with writing?

Ace of Space

2005-09-28T01:21:00.000-04:00

This will be the first and last post in which I mention Britney Spears.

I'm out of school this term. And possibly next. Voluntarily. I was having a major crisis, as in whether or not I am in the right major.

Some, most, all might say that senior (4th) year is probably the wrong time to make up your mind.

Sometimes I wish I had just gone to the UK and studied Aerospace Engineering like my Physics teacher and headmaster wanted me to. At least I would be finished with it. (Why their preoccupation with flight?) The nice thing about England, yes there is one, and one only, is that university application is quite easy. You choose up to six schools on your UCAS form, one essay and one reference (Oxbridge exception) and they give you conditional or unconditional offers, you get the marks, you take your choice. In the US, you seem to have to charm the colleges into taking you, and that's after the SAT (which I hear has been revamped) & SAT II and booklet application and interview. In my rebellion, I applied to just one university and because I was one in ten, I assumed it was meant to be. But I am not questioning my college choice, since a school is a school (Oxbridge exception) and I think there's a cute but alarming American tendency to try and match your university as you would your life partner.

Sometimes I wish I had never gone to school.

But I'll return. I just think it's wrong that the most accomplished I have felt so far this year was after getting that 24-month subscription to Esquire for only eight dollars, and a pack of cards. The Women We Love pack of cards, and you won't believe who the Ace of Spades was. Britney Spears.

Maeby, baby

2005-09-22T16:00:00.000-04:00

I don't know why I like Arrested Development. I admit I am still tickled by the narration, the simple lass that I am. Who is it who said that narration/first person is the laziest form of writing?

A.D. can take what would be a hideously inappropriate, completely tasteless joke and serve it to you at 8:00pm and you will thank them and say, "Please, sir, may I have some more?"

Remember the last season's last episode? In a series of ridiculous events, Gob gets Michael arrested (by the police). From the police station, the suspect then proceeded to place a call to his alleged mother:

Michael: When you see Gob, tell him I have a nice hard cot here waiting for him.
Lucille: You would do that to your own brother?!
Michael: I said cot.

aside Even though prison sex has never been funny, I am yet to watch a TV programme or movie with aspirations to comedy that will not make a you-are-going-to-be-someone's-woman joke whenever one of its male characters is threatened with jail. Not only that, gay men are not funny just because they are gay. A man relishing being womanly (as only a man can) is only amusing the first five times you see it on screen. Until now. Arrested Development, making unconsented prison relations and possibly gay men funny again. end aside

Monday's episode was... well... incidentally, prison sex came up, as well as Lindsay's volvo and Lucille's cabin. I didn't watch the whole episode because, you see, I had recorded it on a tape with some other rubbish at SP speed, thinking it was SLP and so it was cut off in the middle of