Thursday, 31 January 2008


After the Avant Garde Exhibition, which I posted about earlier, my friends and I went to Soho for a night on the town; starting off with dinner and warm sake at Wong Kei Chinese restaurant, Trash Palace for B52's and a chat, then lastly to Ghetto, a well known gay/lesbian club.

I was introduced to Ghetto on my 18th birthday and it has been one of my favourite gay/lesbian clubs (actually clubs period!) since that crazy first night. Well I went there last night, after not having gone in months, and there was probably a 25% gay crowd. It was swarming with pairs of wannabe lesbian best-buddies (wearing horrible, trashy outfits), bumping and grinding and giving each other intimate, drunken lapdances, licking each other's faces and kissing unlike any lesbian couple I've ever seen kiss before, showering each other in alcopop and scaring away the gays. Even I was scared!

I am not a lesbian; although I may have fleeting lesbian tendencies from time to time (something I'd like to call being 19), and I know that Ghetto is open to all sexual orientations, but I guess the place is just finally played out. I know the usual eclectic, stylish, happily party-going close-knit G-A-Y(keyword) crowd and this was not them. It was very upsetting to me and my gay friend, who still managed to weed out a gay guy to smooch at the end of the night. I know, I'm sorta hypocritical, but as a frequent Ghetto goer, I guess I thought of myself as an exception *wince*. But it was just so strange having to see my female cousin have a girl whispering in her ear on the dancefloor, then upon trying to get in on the scoop, finding out that the girl was asking about our male friend, saying that she thought he was cute.

And I had never thought of it this way before, but it made me realise that the straights had taken over the place. And the gays had finally gotten tired of us. I had never imagined that I might have been one of the ones to contribute to the trend of showing up at a gay club straight. What if it's my fault that these wannabe's have all flocked there? I wonder where the gays have gone to seek refuge? We treat them like attractions, and they're probably tired of performing (except Chris Crock). They are probably looking for a place where they can just be themselves, among themselves. I admit, sometimes I get a little over-excited about my gay friends and feel as though they are accessories. It is the trend to have a gay pal. And for the record, I am sorry for that.

Nevertheless, I had a smashing time, especially when they played all my favourite Britney songs, and will still continue to groove at Ghetto. After all, it's not Ghetto's fault; it's probably mine.


I have to remind myself that it's ITEM of the day, not ITEMS. That means I can't post pictures of Luelle Bartley's entire fashion range for Spring/Summer 2008.

BUT I can post bits and pieces of it every day for my IOTD post. I'm just that head over heels about it. I'm even trying to get tickets to her show at London Fashion Week on February 14th, since Valentine's is pretty much out of my picture this year, as my picture only has me in it and no longer a boyfriend. But my contact is NOT RETURNING MY EMAILS!

Nonetheless, the item of the day is a pair of geeky glasses by Luella. I want My Big Fat Geek Reading Gear too!


I had a grand ole evening with some friends yesterday. We started off at the British Library to check out an exhibition on European Avant Garde called "Breaking The Rules", which proved to be rather thought-provoking, as an exhibition should be. I wasn't aware that there were that many 'isms' in Art- Cubism, Expressionism, Futurism, Dadaism, Suprematism, Constructivism, Surrealism, to name a few. Later at Trash Palace, we had fun brainstorming our own 'isms' that we could possibly throw into the mix.

1. Me ogling and wanting to steal a tshirt designed by McLaren, Vivienne Westwood and Bernard Rhodes with the heading "You're gonna wake up one morning and know what side of the bed you've been lying on!"
Printed on it were two lengthy lists, one of Loves (like Jamaican Rude Boys, Coffee bars that sell whiskey under the counter, The Tate Gallery and all those American businesslike painters, Iggy Pop, and to be seen in New York), and one of Hates (like Harpers, Vogue, in fact all magazines that treat their readers as idiots, Andy Warhol, dirty books that aren't all that dirty, Elton John, West End shopping and all those fucking saints) dear dear!

2. My friends and I copying the crouching, weeping, head-holding, spinning, collapsing movements of an Avant Garde performance on a little TV

3. Giggling like little girls over some short films on flying bowler hats, breasts, then no breasts, then breasts again, the jumping and twirling underneath of a ballerina's skirt (very cool shot), a paper boat sailing over rooftops, and the stabbing of an office worker with a life-sized cartridge pen and his transformation into a paper man who then gets squashed by an angry uni-browed woman.

4. Listening to and attempting to imitate the supposed Language of the Gods, which sounded like a series of badly cleared throats.

Suffice to say, it was brilliant. I even bought myself a little Man Ray bookmark with my tattoo on it for 99p; you know, the one with the violin printed on the woman's back (SEE BELOW). If you like Avant Garde, there are some events coming up at the British Museum next week including an Avant Garde Study Day. Here's a link for upcoming events.

I think I might wanna check out the one on Photography and the Avant Garde. Big Man Ray fan, guys, clearly.

Tuesday, 29 January 2008


Because I've had a really dull day with nothing but a Writing Conexts lecture and 2 hours at the gym, I'm going to have to say that the item of the day is the Sylvia Plath poem that we had to analyze today in class called 'Lady Lazarus'. I love it! I LOVE SYLVIA'S MOROSITY! Have a morbid day everyone!

Lady Lazarus

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer

Out of the ash I
rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Monday, 28 January 2008


I just read this cool article on yahoo! news about a japanese girl who sent out a letter in a balloon 15 years ago, and a fisherman finding it on a fish. It's still legible too! The letter wasn't very interesting but I'd like to try this very soon. I'll get back to you when I do! Here's the article:

Japanese girl's letter returned 15 years later ... by fish
Fri Jan 25, 1:30 PM ET

A letter that a young girl in Japan sent into the sky in a balloon some 15 years ago has been found on a fish hauled from 1,000 metres (3,300 feet) below the Pacific.
A fisherman found the still legible piece of paper sitting on a sticky flatfish in his catch on Thursday, along with a torn-off string and the fragment of a red balloon.
He opened the folded paper, discovering it was a handwritten letter from a six-year-old girl at an elementary school in Kawasaki, 150 kilometres (93 miles) away from where the fish was caught off Choshi port.
The sender, Natsumi Shirahige, and her friends released letters as part of events to mark the school's 120th anniversary, which was in 1993.
"Our school is 120 years old... If you pick up this letter, please write to me," the letter reads, listing the school's address.
The 52-year-old fisherman said the letter was a nice surprise.
"I've been in fishing for a long time but this is unbelievable," the smiling man told the Asahi television network.
Shirahige, now a 21-year-old university student, said: "I can't get over the wonder of how the letter survived 15 years. I never expected I'd get a reply this way."


ITEM OF THE DAY is this genius(!!!) mobile ring by Sylvia Goldberger. You can adjust the pieces to suit you. "Wings" slide to the left and right so that you can re-arrange the surface design to suit your style. Personally I'm not too fond of the rest of her collection, but here's where you can check it out

Sunday, 27 January 2008


I just thought I'd share this text message I just received from a friend, because when the message tone sounded, I was expecting something more along the lines of 'hey, what's up? Wanna go to...?'. Here it is regardless:

"My work just got robbed!! I called the police and everything!! Some punk-arsed little bitch robbed a crate of naturally I took it personally!"


So yesterday, two of my best 'mates' and I decided to have a night out. We ended up on Putney High Street. All down the stretch was a mass of bobbing cowboy hats, not to mention Walkabout, the popular Australian Bar and Restaurant was packed to capacity, with a line of hopefuls waiting to get in at the door; everyone dressed in the native colours. We brushed it off as either some rugby/cricket/football/any other sporting option of your choice event that we clearly were under a rock about.

But the masses were really confusing me that night. We looked around us deciding on a place to dine and my eyes stopped on a suspicious character across the street playing a bagpipe. My friend said, in her best Pikey accent (she thinks she's Irish) "But the bagpipes are from Scotland, right?" I nodded quizzically. Then, I noticed a lot of the Aussie crowd was wearing yellow and green (I suppose like the colours of the uniform for their cricket team). I particularly remember this cute half asian chick in head to toe yellow and green knee socks, flats, mini skirt and beanie (with the stitching 'I Love Australia' and a quaint little ball on top). With all her green and yellow waving at me in the face, I INSTANTLY thought Brazilian food!

There is a quaint little Brazilian restuarant, which opened up last year, just a few buildings away from Walkabout. We went there for a massive brasilero buffet. The food tasted like a Sao Paoloan mother's lovingly home-cooked meal. SO glad I found that place. SO upset that I can't remember the name for you, but I assure you, it's the only Brazilian place on the high street. What I later realised about the place, however, that made me glum for a minor tenth of a second, was that I had been there before, with my ex-boyfriend on a date. It used to be Italian. I ordered a Copacabana and moved on.

P.S this is also such a shame, what with Aussie Heath Ledger's recent death and all :(


Mulled wine tickles my fancy so I decided to post the recipe for you all. If you don't like red wine, this is the best it'll ever taste. I got this particular recipe from BBC Food. Enjoy!

1 bottle red wine
60g/2oz demerara sugar
1 cinnamon stick
grated nutmeg
1 orange, halved
1 dried bay leaf
60ml/2fl oz sloe or damson gin (optional)


1. Put the wine in a saucepan with the orange, sugar, bayleaf and the spices.
2. Heat gently until the sugar has dissolved. Taste to see if you want the wine sweeter, and add more sugar to taste.
3. Off the heat, stir in the sloe or damson gin if you are using it.
4. Strain into heatproof glasses and serve at once.

Darn it! I think I'm gonna have to do a post on some smashing alcoholic drinks I recently had/heard of.


This weekend I was invited to a friend of a friend's theatre group performance at the Arthur Cotterell Theatre, Kingston College. They performed an ourtageously, brilliantly crude and laugh-out-loud show. Seriously, there was one guy bellowing from deep in his belly right behind my left ear.

Tacit Theatre's rendition of a handful of Chaucer's MANY tales was excellently performed with modern hints but not so much as to take away from the man's (Chaucer's) genius craft. What gets me the most everytime I see it (this has been my second time) is the authenticity of it all. I really enter 14th Century old England when I am there. The audience becomes a crowd at the Tabard Inn. We are only being served two types of Ale (thanks to the Hogsback Brewery), a light and a dark, some red wine and my new favourite, mulled wine. I am going to put up a recipe for making mulled wine later on because I love it so much. Mind you, we were also only served in these brilliant silver tankards. I had to suppress the urge to swing them and shout folk tunes with the company.
On top of the bar sat the band, playing traditional folklore songs on traditional instruments of the time, lutes etc. We banged fists on the bar keeping time. My cousin, who was a barmaid for the event, was jokingly called a wench several times as she fetched frothing tankard after tankard of ale.
It was a promenade performance, meaning we stood and sat anywhere we pleased, whether on the stairs, the floor or the haystacks and barrels that were chairs and tables. And the play seemed to work itself around us nicely. They had us shuffling out of the way to borrow haystacks for props, taking part in marriage ceremonies (bellowing person became a best man) and getting down on our knees to pray. No one seemed to mind the constant movement. We were too busy laughing at the sex-fuelled dialogue, looking around for any little children in the audience with our hands over our mouths. We were toasting tankards, turning right, turning left, looking up into the rafters and down as the vibrant actors played their parts every which way.

It didn't end there. As if getting peed on by Damian, the garden boy in the last tale wasn't enough, there then came a professional Capoeira group, led by a professor Julio Sanhaço. I can only assume by the name and by the way he expertly and sweetly sang the portuguese music for his group to move to, that he is a brazilian native. A bit random for a Chaucer play but I guess when one sees an opportunity for recognition, one takes it. One of the dancers is siblings with Leo Steele, the producer of 'The Canterbury Tales'. I have some video footage I can post of them doing their thing. It was brilliant. There was a move from 'You Got Served' in there! Also, they offer all levels of Capoeira classes, if anyone be interested. Check them out at

Needless to say, I had a blast and just wished it didn't have to end. Apparently, due to insufficient funds, this Saturday was the last performance, but I really think everyone ought to see this show, whether or not you be a Chaucer fan, so I'll see what I can do to get them to do an Encore. It's well worth the measly 5 pounds and the bits of hay on your arse as you leave.

Saturday, 26 January 2008


I pretty much missed the day! I did try to prod the bus driver on when it was nearing 11:30pm so I could get home just in time. Didn't quite make it. Here is the item of the day regardless. Diane Kruger's animal print shoes, worn at a recent Christian Dior fashion show. I am currently unable to find out who they are by and how much, but we can't afford it anyway! If you know, feel free to comment. There's always the taking out a loan option :)

Friday, 25 January 2008


It's after 7am. I am all the way in Uxbridge at Brunel University visiting a dear friend who is worrying that she might've gotten a urinary tract infection from the flat's one toilet. THAT is why I have an ensuite dorm. But not a very clean one at that. I'm worried that today is the day the cleaner comes and she's going to see my room's filth. I'm currently still living out of two suitcases from my recent trips to Abu Dhabi and San Jose, CA. And truthfully, I will probably still be rummaging through them for a pair of pants come february. *sigh*

So three of us got drunk, after her smashingly good seafood pasta, off of some Budweisers and Southern Comfort with Orange Fanta. We talked about our exes' penises, the process of piercing the clitoris, watched her do a pathetic rendition of the Soulja Boy dance, and even (because we are SO modern) prank skype-called her friends. Without realising it, this night might've been my very first drunken Girl's Night In; seeing as the last time I had one of those I was about 11. Fun stuff.

She told me that when she went back home for Christmas vacation, she fell for her friend's brother...hard and didn't know what to do. They got to know each other pretty well, and before she left she arranged for him to receive a dozen red roses anonymously. He told his sister, who then forwarded the message to my friend, that he was stunned and flattered to receive them, and couldn't guess who might've sent them. The only thing was, the messenger came and delivered them to him at a scrapyard while a bunch of muscly hard-backed men watched on quietly bemused. hehe. Chivalry exists with women too.

P.S. did you guys hear about the man they 'supposedly' saw on Mars? Check out yahoo's main page today.

Thursday, 24 January 2008


It's just about 8am here in London. I was bored so I started answering one of those personal surveys on Facebook. They show some of the responses from others on the side while I type in my response. I thought I'd share some of the questions and answers I found:

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST TURN ON? Wouldn't you like to know (Jaime)

BIGGEST REGRET? Listening to my friends' promises to get me DVB sunglasses, and not buying them myself (Anton)

MY PLACE OR YOURS? Wherever there's tea (Claire)

LEAST FAVOURITE SONG IN THE WORLD? That one by the guy with the high voice that gives me seizures. I forget the name of the band but you know what I'm talking about. (Thomas)-- uhhh no?

AS PRESIDENT OF THE USA, WHAT WOULD BE THE FIRST 3 THINGS YOU WOULD ENACT? 1)Kick out all mexicans 2)kick out all mexicans 3) kick out all mexicans (Nick)-- for the record, I did not laugh at this and I did not make these up. I am simply the messenger


DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD? Who doesnt? (Felicia) --poor girl needs to get a rude awakening

IF YOU WERE GAY, WHO WOULD YOU HOOK UP WITH FIRST? Lindsay Lohan (Anton) --note the masculine name. Also, he clearly wants to contract something

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR MEN? Just like I like my apple ibooks: thin, shiny and 12" (Annick) --love this!

SEX OR LOVEMAKING? Love making is soo last century! (Anton)


Heart-shaped sunglasses à la Lolita. Maybe I have a thing for red sunglasses right now. Maybe you should too. These are available at for £7 or, for all you lucky Americans, $9 at Fred Flare.


A lot of things happened today. And what I'm going to say is going to make my life sound rather glamorous, but it isn't. It's just that I received my monthly salary from dear old dad a couple days ago and I had no class today.

I went to RoeActive, my university's newly opened gym; the one without any ab machines in a predominantly female institute (WHAT IS THAT?!) I sat on a bike with a copy of 'This is the Beat Generation' reading about artsy people cutting off their fingers with garden shears because their gay lover lived a separate life of modelling and prostitution, and because they lived next door to each other, he could hear him fucking other people (William S. Boroughs). I looked up two large chapters later and saw that an hour and 160 calories had passed. COOL!

Then I rolled around on the floor for 20 mins. with an exercise ball trying to make up my own ab exercises. I hit the weights next. For some reason I couldn't manage for long with the 5lbs. I have never used 5lbs that felt like 10. I stuck to 3 (or RoeActive's 5lbs) and learnt that for several months I had been doing my lunges wrong. GREAT!

I rounded everything off with 20 mins. on the treadmill grooving to Britney Spears. I knew, then, that two hours of gym work deserved a trip to Starbucks. At Sbucks now, I sat there reading a stack of those weekly pop culture mags.

NOW LISTEN! An article talked about a woman's partner getting more and more sexually frustrated because she became too tired to have sex nightly anymore. She didn't understand why he was getting so upset. It wasn't her fault she was exhausted after a long working day. He explained to her that she had been waking him in the night with her heavy moaning and squirming as she masturbated. Seeing this, he then became aroused and tried to initiate sex. And she would shrug him off. The next morning she would have no recollection of it, only wondering why her vagina felt slightly sore the next day. Turns out, there are people out there who sleep masturbate! With orgasms too!

SO! After that, I decided to head home. Boy was I in the wrong place at the wrong time; the bus stop at 5pm. I can't tell you how many packed buses flew past my hollering hand. And when I thought one bus driver was gonna stop and pick me up, he merely slowed down to admire me in my sportswear and wave! But I managed to squeeze onto a number 72 about an hour and a half later (!!!!) so no worries.

Learn the right plunge when you lunge
Try sleeping with one hand in my trousers
Don't get stuck at a bus stop at 5pm if you really fancy going home.

Wednesday, 23 January 2008


Finding out about Heath Ledger's drug OD has given me the energy to officially start my blog after weeks and weeks of talking about it and planning. It's just something I HAVE to write about. It hasn't really yet registered to me that one of my favourite men in Hollywood is dead, and I'm waiting to see if I cry. That will determine how much of a pop culture freakazoid I am.

Ledger overdosed on sleeping pills yesterday. He was found naked and face down on the bedroom floor of his Soho apartment (by the way, this place was never Mary Kate Olsen's) by a visitor and the cleaning lady. I wonder if this had anything to do with his split from Michelle Williams last year. His friends say he's been miserable for a long time and they saw it coming :s MY HEATH! WHAT HAPPENED?!

Here is a picture of him with Matilda. How crazy is the resemblance?? Poor Matilda

10 Things I Hate About You is one of my favourite movies. It was the first time I laid eyes on Heath. He's an amazing actor and it's a shame we won't see anymore of his talent on film.

According to imdb he just finished working on 'The Dark Knight' and was in the process of filming 'The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus', scheduled to be released in 2009. Here's one of the 'sexier' pics of him as 'The Joker'. You should check out the other ones. He really knows how to adapt to a horrifying role. I didn't think it was possible to make him ugly, but the make-up team for 'The Dark Knight' sure as hell pulled it off.

R.I.P. Heath Ledger (1979-2008)