The Golden Age of Children's Television

SONAR

Johnny and I are heading to Barcelona to check out the Sonar festival! We'll also be dropping by London for the week before hand. If anybody is in the area , drop me a line and we'll catch up!

I am Never EVER Moving to the West Coast

R.I.P Boris

Never again will you grace the world with your hippy hippy shake.

Testify Sister!

Sitting Up Straight

I managed hurt my back the gym the other day whilst ogling some bronzed, lean, nubile fella that walked past. As penance I am required to wear a supporting elastic corset for the next week or so. On the bright side, my posture has been absolutely immaculate. Perhaps this is what life must be when one does the requisite amount of sit ups.

Formative Years

As much as I try to keep up with zeitgeist, I can't help but remember the time when my adult sense of style and aesthetic (and thus the prism through which I view current trends) was first shaped. I really started paying attention to fashion in my late teens, spending what little money I had on copies of ID magazine and The Face. Shalom Harlow was at the peak of her game while Devon was the hot new girl. Galliano and McQueen were just starting to make their mark while Stella had just graduated from Central St Martins. The mid-late nineties were all about the Antwerp 6, ganguro girls, Hussein Chalayan, a re-energized Comme des Garcons and a dogmatic, risky kind of sophistication. Socialites were kept to the social pages and celebrities relegated to the tabloids. Extreme, unworldly and unconcerned with diffusion labels and chain store collaborations, fashion was a much more rarefied beast.

I look forward to the day

When I can afford Tom Ford's dermatologist

The Japanese Solution to Terrorism

Radical Islam has met its match. All hail Kitty.



Kitty is coming to get you bitches. She knows where you're hiding.

Science Fiction Double Feature

Went on a date to see the Grindhouse last night. Real nice fella. Not sure how interested he is in me though. Mind you, I'm terrible at figuring these things out. I pretty much have to be clubbed over the head and dragged back to the cave to get the message. Well, anyway, fingers crossed!

Now onto the movies. The double feature starts off with Planet Terror starring Rose Mcgowan as a go go dancer who gets her left leg ripped off by mutants and replaced with a high powered automatic machine gun/rocket launcher. Crammed full of boobs, blood and buttocks Rodriguez pulls off a satisfying (if a little self indulgent) homage to the B-movie. What makes the $11 ticket worthwhile however, is Tarantino's effort in Death Proof. Doing away with the faux crackles and missing reels that rendered Planet Terror so painfully post modern, Tarantino re-imagines Steven Spielberg's brilliant 1971 flick Duel with a trio of tough lusty babes. I dont want to give the plot away but lets just say that Women's Studies has never looked so appealing and relevant. If only Tarantino could do for gay men what he has done for women in film.

Ingas you have to see these movies! You will absolutely cream yourself! Hard.

Whoa Nellie

Vicodin + Champagne + Xanax + Former teen pop ingenue dealing with undesirable weight gain =

The Violence of the Lambs