‹ 31.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Twom relaunches the Barbelith Underground and very nice it looks too. Those grey boxes do look a little familiar though ;o) In case you weren't aware, Barbelith is the best place on the web to have conversations that start like this:
"Right, I'm going to build a ramp that will allow cyclists, wheelchair users, skateboarders, people in shopping trolleys and other man-powered, wheeled vehicles to coast idly all the way from the north coast of Scotland to the Isle of Wight (roughly 750 km / 500 miles) ..." [more]And you'll get serious replies too. Excellent!
‹ 28.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Cintra Wilson weighs in on this year's Oscars and pulls very few punches in the process. Some observations of my own:
- As disappointing as it was to not have The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (and yes, it must be quoted in full each and every time) scoop some of the more major awards for which it was nominated, it was thrilling to hear all of the Noozlelandic winners refer to it as the "most beautiful country on Earth" or "the best place in the world to live" and so on. We're a canny bunch and we know when one billion people are watching. It also helps that it's true of course.
- For some reason, the BBC's coverage of the full ceremony had problems dealing with the Kodak Theatre's sound system - none of the introductory and chat-while-they-get-their-butts-onto-the-stage talk came through. In the highlights last night, we learnt that it was Donald Sutherland and Glenn Close who were doing that too, and their sole purpose at the occasion wasn't just to sit behind desks before the commercial breaks and appear as if they were selling tens of statuettes, fwee-faw'a-five-a style.
- My God, what a car-wreck Halle Berry's speech was! No matter how much you wanted to look away, you couldn't and the expression "catching flies" was taken to an entirely new level. Nice frock though. It's a pity we can't say the same about Jennifer Lopez's hair ... as Alan Cumming commented, it was straight out of What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?
Jennifer Connelly (left) and J.Lo at the 2002 Oscars.
- Russ didn't win. Boo fucking hoo. The nice camera people made sure we saw a lot of him as Denzel strutted up to collect the award.
- Shock horror ... Serena McKellen was shown on global television holding hands with his latest LLB-esque companion. It was a real life Gods and Monsters scenario I tell you. Still, it's nice to see the old boy obviously enjoying himself and with a snappy young thing on his arm (and on other places I'm sure too ... cue obligatory ring jokes and fnar-fnar-ing).
- Cirque du Soleil. 'Nuff said.
‹ 27.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Can u phone me now on 02079304832. I can't ring u as i cannot get a signal. If i don't answer ask for elizabeth and she will come and get me. Cheers!Try it and see ...
‹ 22.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Spotted this morning: the beatific visage of TV's Lorraine Kelly adorning a sandwich board outside a shop that bore the legend "Tag your tots - you'd be lost without them". I'm sorry, do what to your tots? Slip a chip under their skin while they're eating their Frosties? Surreptitiously staple a large piece of plastic to their ears while they're watching Tweenies? Or simply just spray paint them head to foot in a violent shade of orange? The mind boggles.
‹ 21.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
From Luke comes news of the ovipository feats of the world's rarest parrot, the kakapo. The really are the sweetest birds in existence - flightless, defenseless, harmless, big, green budgies. And now there are 84 of them which is indeed a good thing. [more info]
‹ 21.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
While controversy rages over the Body Worlds exhibition (scheduled to open in London on Saturday), those in the know turn to the internet and view human cross sections instead ...
‹ 21.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Behold! Today's winner of the Most Fucked-Up Animated GIF Award. Because, you know, a 420K file on your homepage is a really good thing to have. Especially when it's a chrome skull and bike parts.
‹ 20.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
What If They Win Their Academy Awards?: "Hi, I'm Diane Warren. I was shocked to win a Best Original Song Oscar for 'There You'll Be,' from Pearl Harbor. For one thing...it's me. Diane Warren. Patron saint of hack songwriters the world over. For another...it's Pearl Harbor. You know, one of the five movies nominated for Worst Picture at the 2001 Razzie Awards? That I could beat out actual songwriters, who'd written actual music, with my dark magic, made me ashamed and penitent. That's why I've dropped out of society and joined a convent in El Salvador. No, no: keep that guitar away from me. I'm not that kind of nun."
‹ 20.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Radio silence can end now: I managed to successfully move flats on the weekend and am now ensconsced chez the gracious Meg and Paul in W14. A lot of posessions were either binned or donated to charidee as the great Life Slim Down of 2002 progresses. I arrived in this country with nowt but the pack on me back and I intend to leave it the same way (barring a box or two of essentials being shipped home to NZ of course!).
Iain helped out so much over the weekend it was amazing, as we hauled two hatchback-loads worth of guff down the road and joined Luke and Catherine in thoroughly scrubbing the flat until it begged for mercy. He got a nice fat present from his wishlist for his troubles. Twom and Matt also put in an appearance and made themselves useful dragging boxes out to said hatchback. Twom's present was a white chocolate Magnum ice-cream. Matt didn't need a present because he runs on sunshine.
So, that's another nail in the O.E. coffin - a lot of fun times were had in that flat and I'm going to miss it a lot. And after three months on the road, I can only think that those good memories will grow stronger.
‹ 19.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
From the Busabout forums:
Hi all,Ahh, the joys of backpacking around the continent.
When I head over there I will be taking over a didjeridoo. What is the security like in the busabout accomodation? I mean, if I decide to, am I able to lock it up in a locker or something along those lines or should I be carrying it everywhere with me?
Also, are the guys rough with luggage on the buses because I'd hate it to get it broken.
Due to the shape of a didjeridoo, I do not know of any hostels that would have a locker big enough to fit one in. You could try leaving it with the reception staff during the day.
Our drivers are careful with passengers luggage. I would highly recommend some sort of case to keep your didgeridoo in, as this will offer more protection.
‹ 14.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
I was interviewed (along with a bunch of other Noozoologgers) about weblogs and weblogging last year by freelance writer Mike Crowl ... the resulting article has just been published in The Listener in this week's edition. Yes, it does take a little while for these things to trickle into mainstream Antipodean consciousness!
Heated debate has arisen through every gay blog UK-side this week: just who should the next BHS "underwear" model be? Should the world see Graham Norton naked? Or would we prefer Travis Fimmel naked? How about Latin pop sensation Shakira naked? Nary a nice bottom between them. One wag suggested Ann Widdecombe naked but he was promptly beaten to death with a large kitchen whisk. Served the bugger right.
‹ 13.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Congratulations go out to Nick who was the winner of the ickle.org birthday competition with a mammoth number of entries. Thanks for them Nick and to everyone else who entered of course! And don't forget kids, it's never too late to submit your own ...
‹ 12.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
The evening was bootleggylicious as David, Jonathan, Scally and I squeezed ourselves into the phonebooth-sized Asylum to watch "King of the Boots" - a monthly bootleg mash-up [photos here]. And I do declare, a fun time was had by all! Some excellent new boots were played but, as I predicted to David at the time, I was completely unable to recall any of them the next day and I still remain at a loss now - a notebook may be in order next time (yes, this whole pursuit is very trainspotty, as folk have previously pointed out).
Day off = bliss. Roused myself in time to head over to Trailfinders in Kensington and managed to nab a fantastic deal on flights home via the States: London - New York - San Francisco - Portland, then Vancouver - Los Angeles (connecting) - Auckland - Wellington, all for a relatively measly £550. Bargain! A detailed itinerary will appear soon, when I get my A into G and hiff some travelogue pages up. Earlier in the week, Melissa had invited a bunch of us over to check out her new design company's space at Westbourne Studios, and since I was in da 'hood I decided to take her offer up. Apparently only creative companies are allowed to rent space there and this has given rise to a fairly eclectic mix of tenants - jewellery designers, custom bicycle manufacturers, independent music labels, greeting card companies, architects and such. The entrance gives way to an impressive atrium, complete with screening room and, more importantly, a fantastic café/bar where we ensconsced ourselves for the evening ... idly drinking and chatting and catching fleeting whiffs of certain combustible illicit substances ("Is that ...";"Yes, it is ..."). Ya just gotta love those creative types.
More pottering around the house before putting some new glad rags on and helping Nick H celebrate his twenty-eighth birthday at The Edge (now with comfy sofas! (dropped-at-birth barmen still present)) and The Village (complete with gyrating pole-dancers of dubious legal age! (yuck)). Also present were Twom (before he ponced off home) and the delightful Shahar and Mads (God, I feel like air-kissing just typing those names). I was quite well behaved alcohol-wise, knowing full well that the next day would bring ...
A visit to the now legendary Royal Vauxhall Tavern. I was instructed to appear between five and five-thirty and appear then I did ... before promptly summoning Jonathan to retrieve me from the morass of tube exits, intersections, overbridges and underpasses that comprise the Vauxhall area. Ian fronted up at the same time with a dash of friendly advice ("The money goes in this hand and the wrist band goes on that hand ...") and with that, we were into it. Coats in, beers purchased, David and Marcus met, raised possie taken, Scally found and now, on with the show!
The lads didn't think it was one of her better shows but to this first timer "The Dame Edna Experience" was pretty damn good. An excellent comedian(enne) and mimic, "Edna" alternated the crowd between fits of laughter and outbursts of song (and several beers down by that point ensured that even I was joining in the latter as well). Of course, Will Popidol's weekend coming out was on the agenda ("But children have bought his records! He's been touring schools!") and was handled in a rather restrained fashion I thought! (given the vitriol that I've heard she can dish out on occasion). The lovely Dave was met - at last! - as we milled around by the door and several other blog/meeja-type people were pointed out during the course of the evening. Then it was time for the Almighty set and it was tops off all round ... well ... mostly. Your humble author restrained himself but managed to loosen a few buttons in the spirit of the occasion (I didn't want to frighten the natives too much you understand). When it all got a bit too much, we decamped to Duke's for seats and a tad more breathing space before I rapidly excused myself ... on the grounds that I'd had one too many as it was and they decided to catch up with me all at once. Hate it when that happens. An abrupt end to an otherwise fun-filled evening!
Now, do yourself a favour and go read David's excellent "The A to Z of the Royal Vauxhall Tavern" - he's summed the whole experience up much better than I could ever hope to.
‹ 12.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
‹ 7.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
Ladies and gentlemen, charge your tiny glasses as we drink to ickle.org ... providing small amounts of content for one whole year. That's 158 different wee things written by 57 wee and not-so-wee people which is a pretty big achievement I think!
However, there's still time to submit us your work for the birthday competition - we've extended the deadline until midnight this Friday so there's no excuses now for not writing. Now I know some of you have a few entries tucked away on your respective hard-drives (because you told me, you fools), so fish them out and blip them over to us pronto ... we'll love you for it!
‹ 6.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
As much as I love spending time with my friends (and I do on an almost constant basis), meeting new people can be a hell of a lot of fun. Case in point: Saturday night. Twom's flatmate's friend - Riaz - was over from New York so it was decided that we should take him out for a bit of a gay old time in London's glitzy West End. First point of call? Escape. Talent was thin on the ground, so we shuffled on to the Friendly Society. The lads agreed that this was an improvement. Finally, we walked the two metres to The Village and managed to secure a berth upstairs. Tom fired off some comment about smoking which was agreed with by a random bloke sitting next to him, and suddenly we'd met Randy (a Canadian music teacher) and Robert (a former Kiwi, now with the Beeb). And merrily we did roll along there until 1:30am when Tom pleaded fatigue and the rest of us set off for G-A-Y (via an abortive trip to Heaven).
The theme for the evening was "Fun Fair" apparently. A "Fun Fair"? What the fuck? Still, I haven't been on a bouncy castle since I was knee-high to a grasshopper so jumping like a maniac on that for five minutes was enough to bring back old memories of similar exhaustion at the Oamaru Racecourse. Minus the alcohol, dim lights and shady men of course. Actually, that does sound a lot like the Oamaru Racecourse. But I digress. My thighs were however up for the challenge, being in tip-top condition after helping Meg and Paul move house that day. It's safe to say though that none of us were tempted by the mechanical bull, the main technique of which appeared to be slumping forward, holding on for dear life and praying you wouldn't coat the surrounding canvas in a lovely shade of minestrone.
Eventually, my new chums and I departed (around 4:30am if memory serves) for coffee on Old Compton Street before finally going our own respective ways home - a taxi for Riaz and myself and a Smart car for the boys. How chi-chi!
If they made a thriller out of a tomato-and-shellfish-based drink, you'd get the following:
And the key scene, if such a film were ever to escape the wilds of your humble author's imagination, would probably go a little something like this:
|Hannibal:||And what did you see, Clarice? What did you see?
|Clarice:||Clams. The clams were screaming.
|Hannibal:||They were slaughtering the spring clams?
|Clarice:||And they were screaming.
|Hannibal:||And you ran away?
|Clarice:||No. First I tried to free them. I ... I opened the gate to their pen, but they wouldn't run. They just stood there, confused. They wouldn't run.
|Hannibal:||But you could and you did, didn't you?
|Clarice:||Yes. I took one clam, and I ran away as fast as I could.|
"Clamato may as well come with a warning label citing that you should only drink it if you equate the desire to drink carbonated clam extract as meeting the cruel side-effect of seriously wanting to die. I shudder to think of the poor test animals over at the Mott's Laboratories, forced to intake this stuff in it's concentrated form, presumably left for dead on the side of the freeway asking themselves why they couldn't have just had hot needles shoved up their asses like all the other guinea pigs."So, as you can imagine, Luke really appreciated the bottle that Meg and I gave him for his birthday. No, really.
‹ 2.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›
- Zane (sexy New Zealander, now living in London); and
- Jonno (sexy New Yorker, now living in New Orleans)
‹ 1.3.02 / 0 comment(s) ›