Aimee Mann - Wise Up

Game on

After my last e-mail and the recorded delivery letter thing to the owners of my chick-magnet/debauchery-central apartment, i've had no response

They were either on holiday in Egypt - in denial, then - or quivering under their plush duvet or just playing dead

Tonight however, lo and behold, i recieved a reply

A reply which basically said "O.K, no worries, we've lined up a series of visits in the mornings, at midday and in the evenings so as to sooooo piss you off that you'll hasten your exit from our premises"

As things stand with my flat hunting and whatnot, i might just be better off investing in a tent and heading on out to go and live with the down-and-outs at the Canal St Martin

Cripes, i have 8 weeks ahead of me to find a palace to my liking that only costs the price of a shoebox *au pair/house keeper are optional but more than welcome as long as she's in the 18 to 25 year old age range*

To cap things off, tomorow, i have to see an ex-trainee of my favorite kind, one who's going to relate me, in all of it's lurid and gory detail, her complicated sex life

Yup ... me and the raving-bonkers-mad chicks make a pair .. plus ça change :'(

I've done it - i've told the owners of my appartment that i'm leaving as from the end of january

Call me foolhardy if you wish: i've got absolutely nothing lined up with nine weeks to go to find a new piège à poulets/shag-pad

I've been looking et the small ads over the past few days on t'internet and have already sent out about half a dozen mails.

I'm really, seriously, torn between staying in Paris and the shoe-box sized, dank and dreary hovels or moving outside of Paris and living somewhere else ...

....in a converted farmhouse, for example, which may well only cost half the price for triple the size but is in the middle of nowhere (roots country)

... and with no car,for at least six months or so, whaddam i going to do for shopping at the week-end ?

;@)

No music vid for this week, just a funny one :p

Eddie Izzard - Learning french

I've finally taken the plunge .. noooo have no fear, oh faithful reader of one, not 'that' plunge

Way back in the month that we of the misogynist persuasion call 'Tit Monday' (March, then) the owners of my appartment decided to bail out and get rich before they got too burnt

Since then, on a regular basis, i've had my fair share of ill-advised people hot-footing it around for a butchers

I've been through the whole gamut of no-hopers and downright chancers

I've seen the long, the short and the tall (bless 'em all)

To whit, a few of the most memorable ones :

The perky, spaniel eyed guy, who's dying to live out his adolescent dreams but is crashingly brought back down to earth with a bump by she-who-must-be-obeyed (his woman, who evidently wears the trousers *or trasaaahs if you're a Londoner*)

There's been the wallflower type chick, who's parents desperately want to get shot of her and out of the house before she does them in with her banalities or drives them to apoplexly with her boringness

Then there was the gay couple, already arguing about who's space this is actually going to be, actually

Anyhow, the first straw that made this particular camel go 'oh i say, steady on old boy' came last week when the estate agent decided to pay me an un-announced visit...

.. at about nine thirty

.. with two petted lipped waifs and strays, hoping to visit my cradle of luurve *cue Barry White*

... just as i'd settled down after eating, to watch my favorite Desperate femmes au foyer, draped only in a towel, with one hand nonchalantly scratching the knacker region - not a pretty sight at the best of times, i grant you, what with them there hairy spindly legs all askew ...

I told them all to bog off and to make an appointment, like all of us other grown ups do - i'm not running an an open bar here .. what's wrong whitch'all ?

On monday, this week, the agency called me at work: they wanted to organise a visit for tonight at five-thirty

They just didn't understand that i kinda w.o.r.k until at least six ... six thirty ... seven ...

There then ensued a sort of 'discussion between deaf people' - the thick chick on the phone just couldn't/wouldn't understand how it is that that i can't just 'down tools' to be on site at her every whim and envy

"But we can't see the daylight at seven in the evening" she complained "That's because, stupido , there is no daylight to speak of after four in the afternoon at this time of year ..."

(straw too much - 1/2)

Then last night, the owners sent me an e-mail saying that the dreaded french poll tax had been sent to 'them' instead of me ...

I've got a rake of money to pay out just before Christmas ...

(Straw on back +3)
....................................................................

At the dead of 2am, when all is quiet and deadly silent, i sent an e-mail saying that it was all un peu trop ... and upon what kind of terms could we possibly, feasibly, call it a day ? (in a typically 'english gentlemanly' way of doing things)

Until now i've had no news (they're probably got the square lined paper out and are fretting over the abacus)

Never-the-less, it'll soon be time for me to say goodbye to my Austin Powers Stylie, chick magnet pad

I'll be a bit (very) sad ...

But upwards and onwards as we say

*or 'down and out'* if your last name is 'Orwell' and your first is 'George'

:'(

Lame joke spotte sorry :p

A Duck walks into a hardware store and asks if they have any grapes
The guy behind the counter says no.
The duck leaves but comes back the next day and asks :
"Do you have any grapes today?"
The guy behind the counter says :
"I told you yesterday we don't have grapes here, if you come back and ask me that again, I'm gonna staple your feet to the floor!"
The duck comes back the next day and asks,:
"Do you have any staples?"
The guy says "no"
The duck says,:
"good, you got any grapes?"
______________________________________
A salesman knocks at a front door, and it confronted by a 5 year old boy holding a half full glass of scotch and smoking a cigar.
The salesman says :
"Son, are your parents home?"
Kid says :
"What the fuck do you think?
______________________________________
A guy goes to see his doctor :
"Doc, I'm having trouble sleeping. I haven't had a good night's sleep in a month!"
"Well, what seems to be the problem?" the doctor asks.
"It's these dreams, Doc," the guy says.
"Every night, over and over, it's the same thing. First I'm a wigwam. Then, I'm a tipi. Then I'm a wigwam, then I'm a tipi. I keeps going back and forth like this, night after night, all night long. What does it mean?"
"It's simple!" the doctor says with a smile. "You're just two tents!"
______________________________________

A guy is sitting at a bar, having a quiet drink when another guy sits down next to him with a suitcase

He puts the suitcase on the bar, opens it, and pulls out a miniature grand piano, a small piano bench and a little guy all of two feet tall, dressed in a tuxedo with tails who then sits down and starts playing

People start clustering around and throw money into the suitcase lid as a sign of appreciation

Towards the end of the night, the first guy asks the 2nd guy how he got hold of the little guy

"Well, I found a lamp with a genie trapped in it, i let him out and as a show of gratitude, he granted me a wish"

"Bullshit" says the first man

"Here's the lamp!" exclaims the second, and thrusts an oil lamp to the first guy "Here, take it, i've had my wish and the genie won't talk to me anymore"

The first man looks skeptically at the lamp

"Just be sure to really articulate when you make your wish ... the genie must be getting on in years"

"Why do you say that?" asks the first guy

"Do you honestly think that i wished for a 12-inch pianist?"

______________________________________

Over the week-end i was reminiscing and exchanging war stories about the good old days ...

Like, how i could remember, as a kid, we had to put up with four day working weeks
Snow storms which closed down the schools
Power cuts which meant spending the evenings with no t.v (!!) or only candlelight and the radio for fun (no, thank you, i wasn't born in the Edwardian era)

Finally we got around to talking about the french inalienable right to strike

Suddenly it came to me : this time last year we were all stranded for the best part of two weeks when the train drivers decided to down tools (it was just too darned cold for them to get up in the mornings)
They stayed at home, tucked up in their nice warm duvets whilst the rest of us took Shanks' poney and struggled in to work or risked getting the big heave-ho

I wondered out loud as to the lack of industrial action this year - is it something that we should be praising King Nikolas Le Petit for ?

It was pointed out to me that this week, were going to have :
a postal strike
a teachers strike

and ...

... our good old buddies, the train drivers, are grinding to a halt from tomorrow night until thursday morning

I should have held my tongue :'(

Dulce Et Decorum Est
Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime. -
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Memorial Tablet
Siegfried Sassoon

Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight,
(Under Lord Derby's Scheme). I died in hell -
(They called it Passchendaele). My wound was slight,
And I was hobbling back; and then a shell
Burst slick upon the duck-boards: so I fell
Into the bottomless mud, and lost the light.

At sermon-time, while Squire is in his pew,
He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare:
For, though low down upon the list, I'm there;
"In proud and glorious memory" ... that's my due.
Two bleeding years I fought in France, for Squire:
I suffered anguish that he's never guessed.
I came home on leave: and then went west ...
What greater glory could a man desire?

In Flanders Fields
John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.


Anthem for Doomed Youth
Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Nov 2007

I was struck by the feeling today that Christmas day had arrived early, what with the métro seeming oddly unclusted, the streets strangely empty and those people that you did bump into were brimming with the most un-parisien of cheerfullness and goodwill

Every trainee that i saw over the course of the day was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, as opposed to my colleagues who were all bleary-eyed and hung over - i can only surmise, then, that there are no Mcain supporters where i work ;@)

In e-mail exchanges, there were inevitable comments along the lines of 'good grief, i can't believe it, sanity has broken out !'

Click on an image to see it in it's full, unabaited glory in a new window

I'm not sure if i've done this one before - the rules are simple : load up your prefered music player, put it on random play, then answer the questions using the song and the artist as answers (commentaries and links optional)

Noooo of course i'm not dreading the experience ...

What would describe your personality ?
Back to black - Amy Whithouse *that starts off well then ...*

What do you like in a guy/girl ?
Differente - Gotan Project

How do you feel, today ?
Heartbreaker - Led Zep *bwouahahahahah*

What's your life's purpose ?
You make lovin' fun - Fleetwood Mac *yeah bébé yeah !!*

What is your motto ?
Don't rain on my parade - Bobby Darin

What do your friends think of you ?
Something stupid - Franck & Nancy Sinatra *hmm merci *

What do you think of your parents ?
Broken boy soldier - The Raconteurs

What do you think about very often ?
Mmmmmm - Crash Test Dummies * :@) *

What do you think of your best friend ?
King of the road - The rat pack

What do you think of the person you like ?
That's entertainment -The Jam

What is your life story ?
Hit me baby one more time - Travis *heuhh .. what can i say here ?*

What do you want to be when you grow up ?
L'opportuniste - Jaques Dutronc

What do you think when you see the person you like ?
How soon is now - The Smiths *har har hardy har har*

What do your parents think of you ?
Seven nation army - The White stripes

What will be played at your funeral ?
Le poinçonneur des Lilas - Serge gainsbourg

What is your hobby/interest ?
Sinnerman - Nina Simone

What is your biggest secret ?
Amado mio - Pink martini

What do you think of your friends ?
Aux armes etcetera - Serge Gainsbourg

What should you post this as ?
A tes souhaits - M

This is going to be a very picture heavy post, so if you're on dial-up, all i can say is that i'm sorry ...

At any given day throughout the year, at one of the big exhibition halls, there is bound to be something interesting to go and to see

A few weeks ago i was sorely tempted to go and find myself a little .. ahem .. pussy... during the Pet Fair.

Next week it's the Games Fair and last week-end, it was the annual chocolate shindig where assorted affamished latchkey kids and sharp elbowed grannies dug out their boxing gloves from the loft and slug it out in the most unseemly (yet genteel) of fisticuffs to get to be the first to have top dibs on the freebies

Some of us though, just go there to be beholden by the odourous equivalent of heaven and it's seven angels of luxure

I bid ye then, ô worshipper of all that is akin to the devil and his dark arts, the first in a series of photos ... a whole cornucopia, if you wish, of orgasm inducing chocolate and it's unholy deviations and abominations, wantonly laid out before thine eyes (i'm reading Oscar & Lucinda again so, y'know, try to bear with me here ...) photos for the ... i dunno really ... the chocophiles amongst us *is that a real word or am i just making it up ?

A few stands then to whet your whistle :










Fashion student types often try their hand at showing us what they can do with a material as ephemere (??) as chocolate - i've gotta say here, which red blooded male amongst us could say 'no, really, not right now ' to a chick who knocks at the door wearing 100% cocoa butter chocolate underduds !?! ;@)





If you're a bit of a food technican, there are also workshops where you can watch, learn and perhaps take notes about 'how do do' stuff - d'you fancy learning to make dragons from sugar icing ? You should'a been there ...



Sometimes though, artistic endeavour takes precedent - "what can i do with all this stuff" - and various chefs, who usually work in world class kitchens, let their imaginations run wild ... a bit like a concert where your favorite group rushes headlong, and sometimes inadvisedly, into an unprecedented improvisation thing

Finally i came to my favorite standwhere my buddy, the devil, found work for idle hands to do