Noddy Holder's got an MBE! He was in SLADE, for goodness' sakes! Just a bit more ridiculous than Mark Knopfler getting one, but who's next: H from Steps?
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If you're squeamish, do not click this link. Glark's wife, the aforementioned Wing Chun, says that when he showed these to her, she thought they were rocks. Very impressive.
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Note to the person from Eton College whose IP showed up in my logs: if you're William Windsor, I think you're hot. If you're Harry Windsor, you look like A A Milne's Christopher Robin! Either way, Ian says you're 'royal scum'. Which I'm guessing is better than common scum...
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Thanks to Wing Chun, there's a copy of the latest McSweeney's winging it's way to me. Yay!
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30 March, 2000
I updated my non-journal, but it's reeking of lamity. I really should learn to edit myself (or not upload when I know it's a pile of rambling crap), but apathy rules the day, I guess.
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I swear this is the last time I link to The Sun today, but you have to see this: David Beckham's shelled out £1250 (about $2000) for a pair of Evisu jeans with 18-carat gold buttons and stitching. I bet he can't spell 'ostentation,' but I guess he doesn't have to spell it if he can embody it.
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I'm meeting Ian and his friends at the pub for lunch this afternoon, for a piss-up in honour of National Cleavage Day. From the country that brought you Benny Hill...
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Hee!
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I'm not on the Harry Potter bandwagon, but everybody else seems to be, so have a look at the kid who JK Rowling has said is '[her] Harry'. I saw her talking about him at a press conference, and she said it was really uncanny how exactly he fit her image of Harry. Personally, I think the drawings of Harry look like Pulp singer Jarvis Cocker. But what do I know?
29 March, 2000
Why am I not surprised that Sars' take on the Oscars made me laugh out loud?
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As a matter of fact, I AM in a weird mood today. Several weird moods, to be exact. I'll probably keep away from here for the rest of the day, so as not to drag you all down with me. Stay cool, LYLAS!
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Prince Charles has given up lunch for Lent. His spokesman went on to say: "The prince has given up lunch for Lent. He doesn't enjoy eating at the middle of the day very much."
Wow, what a sacrifice.
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I got an email from my Dad yesterday, saying that my Aunt Joan died on Monday afternoon. She'd been suffering (really) with cancer for several months, and now she's not. Anyway, I obviously can't fly home right now, but I wanted to send some flowers. After seeing a wreath I really wanted to send -- and discovering that it wouldn't arrive in time for the funeral tomorrow, let alone tonight's viewing -- I spent about 40 further minutes looking for a nice arrangement on a decent website. I finally used FTD's official site, which was a lot more reasonably priced than if I'd used FTD's own Interflora service for international deliveries. Strange, that. Anyway, I hope they get there in time, and I hope they're pretty. I feel bad that the only thing I can do is send some flowers that I picked out from a website, but... blah.
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Whatever.
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Oh, man. Ugly wedding dresses, anyone? I particularly like the section entitled 'Dear Wedding Lady, My butt isn't big enough. How can I call attention to it?' I harvested this link from Carly's awesome site, Sins.
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Britney Spears had her head cracked open when a camera fell on her. I hope no brain cells leaked out.
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I don't know, I think Sandra Bullock deserves better than to wind up doing the Courteney Cox/Neve Campbell thing. But maybe this is punishment for Two If by Sea.
28 March, 2000
Angelina Jolie: Morticia Addams called, and she wants her hair, skin and clothes back. You look so much better without all that crap, anyway. And I don't know what the deal is with tonguing your brother in public, but I have 2 words for you: no mas.
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I just read that this here weblog of mine is the 8th most active site in the linksluts webring stats. For those of us who will never receive an Oscar nod, I guess traffic is our reward; and I didn't even have to change into a dress that looked like a toilet paper roll cozy (memo to Tyra Banks: referring to every woman you 'interview' as 'girlfriend' does not a stealth reporter make) to get it. Thanks for visiting, everyone -- I knew I'd someday parlay my annoying habit of foisting links on people into something that someone, somewhere would actually enjoy. You're my new best friends, so please drop me an email to suggest a link, or if you just want to shoot the shit.
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Even if you -- like me -- didn't get to see the Oscars last night, you totally have to read Wing Chun's Galaxy of Fame from the big night, at Fametracker. How can she stand to be so clever??!
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27 March, 2000
Okay, I ragged on Helen Hunt's hair earlier, so now you can rag on mine. I got it cut today. I will say that I am very happy with how it looks, so even if I get email that says 'Your hair is gross,' I won't care (much). It wasn't what I asked for ('Please use thinning shears to make my hair not so unbearably thick'), but I like what I got ('I know you asked for something totally different, but I gave you longer layers'). Here I am before (clock the shine on my big old nose) and after. Yes, my hair is dirty in both pictures, because I thought I was going to get it shampooed at the salon. In fact, I asked to have it shampooed, but the girl forgot. And in the after picture, I had just walked home in the rain, sans umbrella. So be kind, and tell me how much you think I paid for that cut, in sterling or dollars, or how much I shouldn't have paid. Closest approximation wins a prize.
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I don't know why, but I didn't think South Park's Kenny would look like this under his hood.
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Here we go again.
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I thought I must be getting smarter if I can understand the process by which those hackers get at credit card details. And then I read how German scientists have demonstrated how 10 gig of data can be stored on one roll of Scotch tape, and I felt pretty dumb again. But that's okay; I'm used to it.
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Everyone always says how piss easy it is to hack into sites to harvest credit card numbers, but when the process is so simple that even I can understand it, that's scary.
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Not to keep going on about fashion- related stuff, but Helen Hunt just looks so wrong with her hair like this. The colour is WAY too light -- and a bit yellowish as opposed to blonde -- and it looks like she's wearing a wig. You'd think that if you were a big star, you could afford to shell out a few bob for a decent colour and style. Not to be mean or anything, but I seriously hope she didn't pay for that look.
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I'm really sorry I didn't get to see the Oscars. If you didn't watch them, but want to see some of the clothes, look no further.
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I've been neglecting this thing for a couple of days now, I know. I could attribute it to my little illness, but the fact is I've been spending a lot of time looking at alt.fashion on USENET, and Cosmetic Connection, perusing product reviews so that I can spend my gift certificate for Sephora in the best possible way. So I guess what I'm saying is, I've just been lazy about keeping this up.
26 March, 2000
Doh, I'm sick! I'm annoyed, because I probably won't be able to get an appointment with my GP until next week, but I phoned the nice nurses at NHS Direct, and have been advised to drink lots of cranberry juice, water spiked with bicarbonate of soda (yuck!), and absolutely no citrus or other highly acidic foods. I'll let you guess what I (think I) have.
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Here is a rather good, positive (what else?) article from ABC News about the website I visit most (ie enough to call it a sickness).
25 March, 2000
Ever wanted to know your cyborg name? Sure you have! Mine are as follows:
J.A.C.K.I.E.: Journeying Artificial Construct Keen on Infiltration and Exploration
D.A.N.I.C.K.I.: Digital Artificial Neohuman Intended for Ceaseless Killing and Infiltration
Whatever, dude.
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Because Richard (aka Blair) is the only twentysomething koolkid/psychiatrist I know -- and by far the funniest -- let's play Gay or Eurotrash?, shall we?
24 March, 2000
I love Napster, and I find it difficult to make my heart bleed for overpaid millionaires. Still, that's what some of them think is in order.
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Lucky girl.
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I have days like this, too, but I don't have them as funnily as Pamie does.
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The thing about hackers (or '31337 h4x0r5' as some prefer to be called) is that they're invariably good for a laugh. Thanks to the ever-resourceful Mike for the link.
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23 March, 2000
I'm afraid I can't read Margie's Dad's account of his daughter's wedding without getting really choked up.
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How in the world could someone saw their way out of jail with dental floss?
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I got the following auto-reply from Jane Moore:
Thanks for the email. Unfortunately I get hundreds each week and simply cannot reply to them all. But I assure you I read every single one.
With the aid of her 7-year-old, no doubt...
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I updated my non-journal. It's going to piss some people off, I'm sure, but they're the kind of people who deserve to be pissed off.
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Jane Moore, who writes the most awful pap you could imagine for UK tabloid The Sun (sorry, I'm providing no link for either of them), is frighteningly stupid. I mean, 2 + 2 = 22 kind of stupid. She's also a panelist on a sometimes worthwhile show called Loose Women, which would be better if they stayed away from lame, yawn-inducing guests like Daniel O'Donnell (Irish country singer -- you really don't want to know). Anyway, today's column was one of the most ridiculous I'd read in ages -- about how Posh Spice and her husband shouldn't have cut (him) and coloured (her) their hair. I mean, real hard-hitting journalism, here. So I emailed her about it. I didn't take the high road, per se, but when someone so desperately in need of telling where to get off publishes their email address for the world to see... Well, it felt good to take advantage of her stupidity. Want to see what I wrote? (Note: Polly Filla and Glenda Slagg are two spoof columnists in my favourite publication, Private Eye, which you should go look at now.)
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Less than a week ago, I made some comment about how I thought all of these over-valued Internet stocks were going to crash like Halle Berry after a few glasses of Cristal. I got some email from people who thought it was cruel and insensitive to make fun of a troubled starlet just because of a minor hit-and-run accident that left two people injured. But I was right, see, and that's all that really matters.
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The line-up for the T in the Park festival (July 8, near Kinross, up in Scotland) is as follows: Gomez, Supergrass, Fun Lovin' Criminals, Ocean Colour Scene, Macy Gray, Travis and... All Saints. Um, wha? I really like Pure Shores and some of their other stuff, but I don't think T in the Park is quite right for them; perhaps they should stick to the Prince's Trust's Party in the Park, down at Hyde Park. But whatever, I'll be there and probably too blissed out on Gomez to notice the Appleton sisters' little wet t-shirt contest.
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I'm an unabashed A A Gill fan, even when I don't necessarily agree with what he's saying (which isn't often). But his take on the effect of 'dot-com cash' on the depletion of good taste makes for a very interesting read. I think he may have a point, but as I don't frequent the couture shows or lunch at San Lorenzo, this lack of taste hasn't started to affect me much -- yet.
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I would be such a housework enthusiast if I had this. Too bad I don't live in Japan.
