A Leaky Cake

Simone: Is your bathroom sponsored by Tampex?
Cohen: SORRY I bleed.
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Kings Ransom

My sobriety has been foiled. Just as well I should end my week drunk off my ass.

I spent the last two days being academicy and flat hunting. It's almost certain now that I am south London bound. Yes it's further out than I would prefer but then so is Gonzo's nose and he's an internationally recognised puppet.

I also did not get to celebrate Thanksgiving yesterday and actually did not care. You can tell something is up?

Now home to Dickens and cake in a mug! Oh and more importantly, a wet and mouldy bathroom ceiling.
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Vision of Soundness

I'm laying in my bed under the duvet in the dark, wrought with anxiety over presenting at tomorrow's Neonatal Society Meeting and where next the leak in my bathroom (and now hallway) ceiling will drift to...as well as wondering if Lady Gaga will ever leave my ear canals.


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Email of the Week

A Running 'stocking Affair

Quite strange in the I've got scissors for hands,-Edward Scissorhands-, way to be spending an entire weekend at home. I've been rather kinetic the last several weekends that it is almost appealing to know I don't have to worry about the time on the clock and when the next bus/train is leaving. However, I've got so many damn things to get on with (work, domestic, personal, etc) that its a bit overwhelming to be where there is no noise to drown out the concerns which always pertain to weekday activities...maybe I should take to Pippi Longstocking as a role model. Dye my hair red, grow it further for pigtails, get myself a horse, and run around London calling anyone in an 'overcoat' a Governour and saying something irrelevantly insulting about the individual's appearance. This begs to question...what would I name my horse? Oh the conundrum! I may as well just lay in my bed listening to the London Philharmonic lay on the Mozart cheese to my balls.

Since I last posted something thorough I've gone many ways in the same direction or what one may call 'pissing the time away.' Why did Chumbawamba just crash into my head? Why does anything happen in my head? Who the hell knows...

RIGHT:

1. Saw Marie in Paris the weekend of 1st November.
a. I just love my Marie so much, she looks great, has a great flat, and she cooked curry for me.

2. Came back to no electricity (took 2 weeks to sort it all out) and to be divorced by Marie on Facebook (bitch).
a. I luckily had awesome aim. And I only today discovered what the problem was...water built up in the bathroom light fixture from the condensation....I NEED TO MOVE.

3. Booked Lady Gaga tickets for a bunch of people including my favourites of Simone and Sophie...yay February. Maybe I can wear my Pipi outfit to the concert but make it more avant garde by throwing a runover badger across my shoulders.

4. Saw Guy Fawkes fireworks at Blackheath and met some interesting people in Deptford (South East London) while hanging out with my lovely friend Rachel...fireworks are never the same as the ones in your head, like the ones I envision any time I consume cake.

5. Made travel plans for January (Glasgow), February (Paris) and March ( DR).
a. This should keep the noises of responsibility from becoming too loud.


Don't think I will have many non crazy weekends after this one until mid-December...and even then so much to do before a run off to New York. YIKES!!

How fair is it that my mom is in sunny Aruba right now as I sit in dark, cold, and in-between downpours London? This Pipi has something to say about THAT!

I like Jedward on trailer parkish X Factor...SCARY.

Email of the Week

A Slow Demise of Bullet Principals

Whether I like it or not, I have to go in for the kill. I'm currently speeding into St. Pancras from Leicester, where I was handed my ass on a platter by my second PhD supervisor and a co-worker. Back to the drawing board...FOR A FIFTH TIME and this is just a proposal. Tomorrow I'm also running around all day in central London attending meetings and giving presentations. I'm pressed between two hard places overall because of looming deadlines and other presentations. Yet this weekend I'm due to go to Paris. Bad timing man but oh well, at least my thai slut of a UN working wife (aka Marie) will be obliged to give me a back rub.

Through this all, however, I can't help but allow my mind to wonder onto even more important topics like Britney Spears. I'm highly intrigued by Britney reportedly having become rescind to indifference. It seems that Daddy Spears has taken full reigns over her life as if she was Rudolf and he Santa and he is going to beat some sense into her wickedly red nose.

What was I on about? Yes, a suppressed Britney. I wonder how Daddy Spears is managing to do this. I have a theory, of course, but its pure speculation...DRUGS. Britney is being drugged into her mind by elephant sized antipsychotics which explains why she's always guzzling Starbucks fraps, poor bitch is always parched from the drugs. Despite the windfall profits for Starbucks and the steady production of good pop songs, I highly disapprove of a drugged Britney. I mean this could be suppressing the head shaving and paparazzi beating with an umbrella Britney I so much loved in 2007. And frankly this has terrible consequences for our pop culture driven society. As an example look at the shit news outlets have had to cover in place of a deranged Britney...a boy in a fucking balloon and unlike the umbrella marks on the paparazzi this shit wasn't even real!! The world is suffering Daddy Spears! How can you pop pills in Britney's mouth so calmly knowing the trail of devastation it is causing?! I know you are benefiting from a stable income from a fortune that's not being squandered for now...but come on Daddy Spears...PLEASE grow a heart...let us have psycho Britney back.
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A Coroner's Misnomer

Fringe was awesome in case you were wondering. That was a massive post though.

Ended up axing the Falafel-Waffle party, I was all very much Edward Scissorhands about the thing as it was. I did though have a nice Saturday. I met the lovely Babette for Afternoon Tea in

Belgravia at Baker & Spice, where I had a delicious chocolate fudge cake with a very delicious cup of coffee, Babette had the almond cake with their generous heavy on the cream ( read as, how many cows must they have in the back?) hot chocolate. Check out their cake range for yourself.

I rushed home and had one of my few Fulham friends, Chris, come over for late afternoon tea. He was a spot on dude and brought over some M&S goodies, he knows all about my gluttonous side and how much chocolate biscuits that are decorated as holiday penguins would entertain it. We watched a bit of the Family Guy spin off, The Cleveland Show.

I don't know if you have seen it or not, especially since it does not make its UK premier for sometime ( I think next year...), but it is fragrantly produced off the back of inappropriate racial and ethnic humour that has made Family Guy amusing. Although despite the Family Guy-like flashbacks and general inappropriateness, I can't help but feel that there is some element that is not quite right about the show. I will probably continue watching it as an extension of Family Guy but I definitely can't say that the show has shown itself as becoming a distinct entity like American Dad.

After I sent Chris on his way, Stu and Jackie came over to offer relief for my fat laden fridge contents. We ate and watched From Hell (2001), which I actually have seen before but was not opposed to giving it another whirl... they certainly took A LOT of artistic license in that film, my Jack-the-Ripper aficionado friend Rennie would have been very disappointed.

Overall, not a bad way to spend the weekend...if you don't count the pounding my legs took when I tried the Body Pump class at the gym on Sunday. Man I feel more tenderised than if I was rolled out on the road by the Oscar-Mayer weinermobile:

On the Fringe

So it's Friday night and I am sat at home in London watching Fringe recorded on my DVR in Brooklyn....man, sometimes, I wish moments like these could be materialised into delicious edible goodies so I could also eat them. This maybe a strange mantra to have, you know wanting to have precious pleasurable moments materialise in order to eat them, but since I'm espousing it I guess you just have to say accept it. Not at all different from Joshua Jackson saying the same in regards to him not being able to succeed as a film star and having to settle for a second rate sci-fi-ish television progamme on Fox.

SO, what to talk about....well besides the usual issues of indigesion, bowel movements and third party voices....maybe this week? It's deffo been a cumbersome week at work. I know that most of them are like it but fortunately this week I got to work on some new material (wrote an abstract) and then new coding to produce graphs is irritating me, like a giant camel toe irritates run way models, which is a good thing because hopefully it will help me learn, don't know if the same can be said about camel toes...

Last weekend I was fortunate enough to go spend some time in Oxford. I was privy to see my female Jewish counterpart in Oxford and her new flat, much was discussed in relation to food, television, sex and hence she's a counterpart (...WHAT?! Just because we are Jewish and share a sexual preference you automatically assume we do not need to have anything else in common to be counterparts?! WELL you could have been sorta right, like Shelly Long was definitely not for Cheers....). I also witnessed the swine flu recovering Simone, at Sainsbury's, purchase cheese and yoghurt...it was less cathartic of a food shopping experience than it normally is with Simone, what with her recovering from Tamiflu and being outside for the first time in a week I felt like she could have been Sigourney from Aliens...forced back onto the planet she so daringly managed to escape only to have to plunge right back in. Wow, I hope de Cassan reads this not.

Rushing away from my food shop with Simone, I attended a delicious dinner party at my friend Babette's house. On the menu: (1) starter of fat bread with salad and guacamole, (2) main of roast veg, roast chicken breast, three cheese eggplant rolls and (3) dessert of a pod of chocolate, a lime passion-fruit cake and melon w/ papaya....this all was DELICIOUS. The original idea behind this dinner was that Marie was going to come up from Paris and she would join B, Serini, myself and two other people whose birthdays were back to back that weekend to celebrate life and food. Somehow it all worked out in the mode of celebration despite Marie cancelling and one of the people falling ill. It was all probably to do with B's amazing hostess and cooking talents, she's just this incredibly amazing person who is so clever, kind, collected and talented that she could literally be a living embodiment of Meryl Streeps film career....true story.

After the meal somehow plans were formulated for Babette to start a little side business creating new recipes for cupcakes and then selling them...I was a bit to blame for having began a conversation about cupcakes. In any case, I apparently am now a designated recipe/flavour consultant fr her upcoming range of cupcakes....god, I love Oxford. The evening ended nicely with my spending quality time with Serini at her place but that was just after we took a mini detour to meet her Aussie Rhodie pals at St. Johns...the twists and turns of people to see and things to do are never ending in a town like Oxford, its like a twilight zone for a party of 1 + infinity (living optional).

On Sunday I woke up quite early (fucking calypso alarm clock went off, irritating Serini and I) and was able to catch Anne Marie on the phone. That lucky bitch is currently in Los Angeles on a audit job and earlier I gave her instruction to track down the Julie Andrews Hollywood walk of fame star, but knowing Anne Marie her search started same place it ended ( to imply where it continued) and that would be her hotel room bed. Sure enough, that is where my phone call found her. After waking up all of Serini's floor with my phone cackling and shouting, Serini made me a delicious breakfast and I hung around with her until my venture back into London. It was tres depressing...think Shadow falling through the dusty board floors in Homeward Bound...to have to rush back, especially when it was to get back to London in order to conference call with your boss only to get home and discover the woman neglected to send her home contact details!!!


Then there was the week with some of this and some of that which leads me to where I began, on my couch watching Fringe...on to this weekend I say we go and to the Falafel-Waffle party I am throwing at mine tomorrow....let the overeating mayhem begin!

Some Fights are NOT worth fighting

Okay, Polydor MUST have known that this was going to be a massive hit because of X Factor exposure...now why THE HELL did they go cheap on Cheryl Cole's wardrobe...I feel like her animal print pants came out of a Florida retirement community...horrible, I'm visually offended more than I am auditorily (but thats because I kinda like it).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMiy_UsrPDs

A Move to Blogger

Based on projected (source uncited) popular demand I have decided to blog more and in the process I have come to realise I need to dump Xanga in a real Little Mermaid (you know the version where the bitch dies) style. So here I am on Blogger, which is easily linked with my Google account and the real reason I moved ( I like to justify my reasons unlike the Koolaid Pitcher and his pedo ways) but if you would like to see my blogging history from 2002 please proceed to the condemened site. The High School/University age Eugene may or may not entertain you (I'm no damn Robbie Williams, my underwear collection is superior, so I do not make definitive promises) but I do promise it will cause you much pain.