Michael Clark

So I finally have seen a Michael Clark dance performance.

I've been wanting to see one since I heard about him back in the early 90s and he worked with Leigh Bowery.

It exceeded any expectations I had - absolutely incredible. Mmm... runs until the 4th November at the Barbican.

The dance was thrilling, fresh and provocative.

3 words: GO SEE IT.

Boyfriend of the Week

I haven't had a new boyfriend for ages; primarily because I haven't had time. However, F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) and I went to see Marie Antoinette on the weekend (not bad, beautifully filmed but soooo languid that I got a bit bored) and I decided on my new Boyfriend of the Week.

Jamie Dornan - welcome. And the way you look, I think you might last a while. I won't mess you around like Keira did. Honest.

Adventures of the Jacketini

So I went out with my ex-boyfriend's brother (also a gay) on Friday night; I have always been very fond of him and he really makes me laugh - for a while he attempted to become fat enough to be labelled a bear; but only made it as far as cub status. We'll call him Cub for the purpose of this post.

I hadn't seen him for some time and have been working so hard that I knew I was well up for a few (aka many) drinks. We met at a very smart wine bar Grape Street in Bloomsbury and were surrounded by a mixture of very polite punters.

I'd decided to kill some time before I met him by shopping. For baby clothes. I've been going a bit mad since I found out my sister is pregnant, and now I've found out it's a girl I've been even worse. One of the items I purchased was an incredible double-breasted winter coat - in faux cream astrakan fur. It cost me more than I've spent on a single item of clothing for myself in some time - Cub and I decided to christen it "The Jacketini". A silence fell all around us and people nearby gasped when I pulled it out to show him.

Anyway, after 3 bottles of wine we foolishly decided to stumble to Trash Palace (why, oh why?!) where we carried on drinking until 3am.

I awoke the next morning with a vague recollection of knocking so loudly on the front door of my mews house to wake up F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) to open the door for me. I had forgotten that my house keys were in my pocket and not only woke up F/BF but half of the neighbourhood in the process. I quickly glanced around my room to see that I had my phone, wallet and shoulder bag - they were all present and accounted for. Then a horrible thought slowly dawned on me: Where is the Jacketini and other baby clothes?

I scrambled out of bed and did a search of the entire house - surely they were dumped in the hallway or on the stairs? No, no Jacketini to be found.

Obviously I went in to complete and utter meltdown. I was sure that having left them in the Palace of Trash that some lesbian couple had taken them for their soon to be born baby - why wouldn't they? Who wouldn't?

On speaking to Cub he informed me that he'd left his bag there as well and was going to check with the bar (once it reopened) to see if the Jacketini there. I was unhopeful.

Later that day Cub called me and gleefully screamed down the phone that the Jacketini was safe! I was so happy I could have kissed him. Somehow it managed to escape the clutches of the soon-to-be-lesbian-mothers and my soon-to-be-born-neice will be the most glamorous of all Perth babies.

I only hope that tonight is not a repeat performance...

Humour Me.

Was this when he was at his most beautiful? Yes, yes, it was.

Shoulder Pads

Moan of the day.

As I mentioned, we've had a new trainee - we'll call her Cheeky Mare (CM) for the purposes of this post (she's lovely and cheeky in a good way) - start at my company about a month ago who I'm responsible for managing. We have set her targets together; I believe that people are best motivated when self driven - we are all unique creatures and different people are motivated by different things.

Ginger Boss (GB) decided today that she was obviously not involved enough in this process - perhaps she doesn't think I'm doing my job as manager properly (!?) - so decided to pitch our two consultants against each other in a 'competition' which will culminate in a prize for the person with the best sales figures.

It's really pissed me off. I mean, firstly; obviously she thinks it is entirely reasonable to undermine me as a manager. Secondly, how bloody eighties-power management-padded shoulders does she want to be?!!

Can you tell I'm completely over my job?

Over and Out

I could write about my brilliant weekend. I could write about how full on my job is right now. I could write about my attempt to buy an apartment in Melbourne. But I'm not going to. I've got something I have to get off my chest.

I am SO VERY BORED with Kate Moss. Yes, she of the slightly dirty looking face/hair; the drug-addled boyfriend whose band has just cancelled the rest of their tour because he's doing 'so well' at rehabilitating; the 3 year old child that has to live with the fact her mother is a drug dependent loser.

Why is it that this stupid, irresponsible woman still manages to stay on top?

How long ago was it that she was caught with her noseful of the white powder? Yet somehow she manages to be splashed all over our TV screens and magazines in what seems to be new contracts? What does this say about us, the general public?

Kate Moss - I think you should crawl under a rock somewhere. Frankly, you look dirty and you bore me.

Three Things

1. I feel ambushed by work. Right now it is overtaking my life. I don't live to work, I work to live - but right now, it feels the other way round.

2. I have the autumnal blues. All I can think about is the impending winter. At least it is going to be the last one in London I have to deal with for a while.

3. I miss having time to read all my fellow bloggers' thoughts. It sounds slightly ridiculous, but I've come to enjoy hearing about your lives and wonder what I am missing out on when I don't have the time to read you!

Hungover-Head.

This is about all I can manage today, after last night's little number. It's all Dale's fault. He made me drunken blog. Honest, he did.

Blog of the Drunk.

right.

we're talking about party lines. It was a late 80s/early 90s thing. You called a phone line and there was a group of people chatting all together. And we used to pretend that we were other people. That was the party line.

3 bottles of wine down - first time for drunken blogging.

OBF (Other Best Friend) and F/BF (Flatmate/Best Friend) are talking about pretending to be people they are not. And paranoia. Something I'm quite familiar with.

oh I like alcohol.

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