Devil's Haircut

DB (Ditzy Blonde) returned from Kiwi-Land recently and I was ecstatic for two reasons:

1. She is fantastic company and makes more inappropriate, silly comments than I do.

2. She is the only other person apart from my sister who cuts my hair well.

What I also love about DB is that when she sees me she just decides what is going to happen with my hair. I have no choice in the matter.

I am not very good at making decisions like what haircut to have; however, occasionally DB cuts my hair and I think: SHIT.

It's not that I don't like the haircut, more that I worry about how it is going to go down at my workplace. My boss is rather conservative (as is the industry I work in) and our clients even more so. So on Saturday when DB cut my hair before we all headed out to dinner and drinks in cutting edge Clerkenwell, I was quite happy with the German-military-deconstructed-buzzcut-haircut.

After several bottles of wine and numerous post dinner drinks (Cointreau was my digestive of choice) it seemed truly fantastic. OBF and I decided to do a photo shoot around my hair in a drunken stylee of which I've attached a photo...

Upon waking on Sunday morning with a massive hangover and thinking about the huge meeting I had on Monday morning, I wasn't so sure. In fact, I felt very unsure.

Book Geeks # 1

Friday night a group of us held our inaugural book club meeting - it was a huge success! The group consists of only 4 of us - DJ Slippers, Mrs Vanderbilt, Kevin Aucoin and myself, and our first book was one of Mrs Vanderbilt's choices - Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell.

The book was chosen at random from a list we had each chosen two books for, and to be honest, when this book was selected I wasn't that happy. Although I love George Orwell's writing (Nineteen Eighty-Four is an amazing novel), the concept of reading about the Spanish Civil War filled me with dread. I normally *hate* books or films to do with war.

So I was thrilled to find that as I read the book I was enjoying it more and more! It is written in Orwell's typically lyrical, beautiful style whilst remaining clear and understandable.

Although each of us had slightly different opinions, the discussion was lively and exciting, and everyone worked well together. The conversation bounced all over the place, from the content and style of the book to the current global political state of the world, to Orwell's amazing vision. All washed down with several bottles of lovely wine and some themed snacks - Spanish tapas of course.

Ziggy for one can't wait for the next meeting. Long live the Book Geeks!

What you do, Bubba?

I've been keeping a secret for weeks now but am not prepared to for any longer.

Lil' Sis and B.I.L (Brother In Law) are pregnant! They've just had the 12 week scan and everything is good! No problems and apparently the baby was fooling around on the scan, waving at them and had a temper tantrum when my sister coughed.

Typical - my niece or nephew already has attitude. I guess it's in the genes.

YAY! I'm going to go baby clothes shopping over the weekend....

Lil' Sis/B.I.L - I love YOU! Congratulations, know that I'm thinking of you constantly.

Wherever I leave my hat...

Last night I caught up with Handsome Lawyer (HL) whom I used to date for a short while before I started seeing The Wanker. It is the first time we have caught up properly for over 3 years, so I felt a bit apprehensive about it to say the least. How was I going to feel about him? How would he feel about me? Would I find him attractive? Would the conversation be OK? etc.

We met at the South Bank and it was a gorgeous evening - really balmy, warm and there people milling about everywhere. We went to have a drink right on the river and then ate at Fish! right next to Southwark Cathedral.

It felt like we were somewhere in the Mediterranean - sitting in my t-shirt outside at 10pm at night and still feeling warm. On the table next to us was Paul wherever I leave my hat, that's my home Young who, as an aside, looks great for his age. Botox perhaps?

After dinner we strolled along the river and I wondered why I let this 6'2 blonde, blue eyed, intelligent, Handsome Lawyer get away.

The question is: was I simply fooled by the romance of the evening/setting? I'm sure all will be revealed with time. It always is.

In other news, I received my mark on my Psychology exam and somehow managed a Distinction. How the hell I simply don't know.

and now breathe...

My weekend was so brilliant that I don't even know where to begin. A few key points though:

Friday Night: Home alone, with copious amounts of red wine (oops), numerous Doctor Who DVDs and chatting to random blokes on gay.com pretending to be a 19 year old hustler. The fun never stops.

Saturday Day: Met up with NS (Non Smoker) at Balham Kitchen & Bar for liquid brunch before moving on to the Most Bizarre BBQ Ever. The host was a crazy Kiwi woman who had obviously been drinking since 9.30 in the morning so by the time her guests arrived was weaving slightly. The guests included an Asian Shirley Bassey lookalike who made me eat some of her curry and an awful gay man whose beautiful Kenyan husband was only with him so that he could stay in the country. True dat.

Saturday Night: Hospitality at the Red Hot Chili Peppers gig (FANTASTIC! What I can remember of it...) with NS (Non Smoker) - more alcohol (a combination of champagne, red wine and finally gin [?!?!]), drunken tube journey afterwards with NS's digital camera reminding us of our antics the next morning. All 199 photos. Mostly of fat ladies' bottoms and a sexy Jewish geek reading a London A-Z opposite us on the tube. At one point I wasn't sure I hadn't peed myself given how much NS and I were laughing. In fact, it was the man sitting behind me at the gig who had peed his pants - NS had photographic evidence of it the next day.

Sunday Day: Quite a bit of puking in the morning and then the Undercover Surrealism exhibition at the Hayward Gallery with TLB (Truly Lovely Boy) which took some work given how very hungover I was.

The screening of "Un Chien Andalou (An Andalusian Dog)" by Luis Bunuel was particularly difficult...

Mine's Gayer than yours, Butchie...

Butchie always has such fantastically gay videos over at his blog, so I thought he might enjoy this one....

hopefully the rest of you will get a laugh out of it also.

London's latest problem

First it was terrorism. Then it was Mad Cow's. Next came Avian Flu. Now it's....

CITY SHORTS.

This is a new blog dedicated to the issue at hand.

Please help me inform the masses of this growing problem.

Holes of Glory

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

This messed with my head so I thought I'd share...

Bitches in Heat

Before my Biker Love In, during the day on Saturday I went to a summer party with a group of teachers I used to work with years ago which was fine, although I didn't really have much in common with the others there. The primary reason I went was to see my friends who were down from Sheffield with the triplets, one of whom is my non-God child.

A couple of the women started bitching about a very good friend of mine (MGL - Most Glamorous Laydee) who wasn't in attendance (she still teaches at the school but wasn't there - she isn't really a part of that 'clique') and I just sat there not saying anything (they didn't know I still see her).

About half an hour passed (with them bitching the whole time about MGL and me being unusually silent. The bitching was becoming quite vile and they said some things I would not ever dream repeating because they was so offensive to MGL) and the following transpired:

Bitch # 1: 'You're very quiet, Ziggy... do you remember MGL at all?'

Ziggy: 'Oh yes, in fact, I see her very regularly still'.

Bitch # 3 (stuttering slightly): 'How, in a professional sense?'

Ziggy: 'No, she is one of my very closest friends. In fact, she really is more like my family now. I see her once at least every 2 weeks and regard her as one of the most beautiful people I have ever met in my entire life.'

Bitches sit in complete silence. Bitch # 1 (Ringleader of the Bitches) starts to flush red from her cleavage all the way up her neck till she resembles a lolling beetroot on a stick.

After at least 5 minutes of complete and utter awkward silence, Bitch # 1 (Ringleader) makes some excuse to leave the party altogether.

Bitch # 3 now sidles up to me with: 'Why didn't you say something earlier when we were carrying on like that? We're so embarrassed...'

Ziggy's final retort as he leaves the party: 'That was the point, bitches.'

um... Happy Pride?

So it was gay pride over the weekend and how many gay establishments did Ziggy attend?

Nada.

In fact, I had drinks and dinner with a mate on my roof terrace Saturday night, and then once she had left, joined my neighbour and her Biker Buddy (BB - sounds so gay, doesn't it?) who were also sitting on the roof.

When I first sat down with them (at around 11.30pm) it was obvious that he felt uncomfortable with me (he was about 6'2, with bulging muscles, a shaven head with large nasty scars visible pretty much everywhere on his body from significant motorbike accidents) most probably due to the fact that I was gay. Nothing was said to me, but you could tell that he wasn't entirely comfortable.

Two bottles of whiskey later at 4am and I had to extract myself from his arms that were wrapped around me, with him telling me what a fantastic 'bloke' I was and how much he loved me. Apparently I had more drinking power (and therefore testosterone) than most of his biker buddies...

I really enjoyed the night - it appealed to me that my 'gay pride' involved enabling this very straight biker to look past my sexuality and see me just as me.

A few randoms for a Friday

1. There is a new manager at my local lunch bar EAT. He's lovely and I want to have his babies.

2. The sun is shining, it's actually quite warm and feels fucking fabulous.

3. I've been drinking all week and feel like I am about to have one big massive hangover.

4. A friend sent some photos of me he took in the year 2000 for his folio. I've decided I need a facelift so I can look like that again.

Flirt Off

I’m crap at recognising when people find me attractive. I’ve never been good at it. When I was much younger and new to the gay scene, friends used to have to tell me when someone was attracted to me. I just didn’t get it.

Since then I have had several significant relationships and many more insignificant ones (ahem, *cough*… ), yet still struggle with ‘reading’ when people potentially find me attractive.

Saturday night, I went out to an event called ‘Architecture Rocks’ with OBF (Other Best Friend) and his friend who was visiting from the States – BAMB (Brazen Americana Male Beauty), who is simply incredible in his ability to go after someone. He hones in on someone and within 15 minutes or so they are attached to his lips. Anyway, there we were standing watching some German emo band with a shirtless lead singer (who was kinda hot, as an aside) when I realised that a very attractive guy was standing next to me and staring. We’ll call him CB (Cap Boy). Next thing I knew he had asked my name and I had been told his.

After a while BAMB came over and asked why I had gone so quiet in addition to being bright red and I explained to him that I found this lovely boy (CB) attractive and wasn’t great at times like that. BIG MISTAKE.

BAMB decided that it was his responsibility to ‘bring us together’. So awkwardly, he started saying things to CB like ‘so you’ve just arrived in the UK?’ (CB was from NYC and had just arrived to start studying his Masters of Fine Art at Goldsmiths) and before CB could answer, BAMB was already saying ‘Ziggy here can show you around. He’d love that. Ziggy give him your number. So you like art? Ziggy is a member of the Tate – get him to take you. Ziggy’s free Monday, Wednesday and Thursday night this week – when are you free?’ … etc, etc.

And I have to say, that although all of this made me even redder and literally shrink from my normal 6’1 to around 4 foot nothing, I completely and utterly admired BAMB’s tenacity. He decided that CB and I would be a perfect match and did everything in his power (within that limited window) to make it a reality.

Of course, at the end of the night I skulked out without speaking another word to CB. I know, I know... I'm useless.

Defining Chavness

In my last post, I used the term 'chav' and didn't think about how I was potentially excluding anyone not based in England. Sorry about that. To make up for my exclusive behaviour, here's a definition from the fantastic Urban Dictionary:

11. Chav

Humanoid in appearance, but primative and animalistic in nature, chavs are fast becoming the bane of humanity. Now all but classified as a completely seperate species, chavs took the left of the fork on the road of evolution when everybody else went right. Today, chavs can be seen in almost every urban area of Britain. Easily identified by either their baseball caps, hooped sports sweaters, excess Burberry and impossibly colourful Nike trainers (male) or scraped back frizzy hair, earrings you could train a dolphin to jump through, cheap leggings and Reebok Classics (female), chavs hunt in packs. Unlike other species, chavs hunt for cigarettes and bus fare instead of food. Food is always obtained at fast food establishments such as McDonalds, or convenience stores (Spar, Late Shop). It is quite common for food to be thrown instead of eaten, with the chav preferring his / her fags and cider / Lambrini (charver cava). Chavs are normally hostile towards humans, particularly those who favour alternative music, whom they have branded "moshers" or "grungers". A chav's music collection is limited. Hip-hop and hardcore for the males, Britney and trance for the females. Dogs (the more volatile, the better), mobile phones, cheap or fake gold and "souped-up" (debadged) 1990's Vauxhall Novas are must-have accessories. Note: the above description typifies the average chav, but there are actually quite a few varieties. Be sure to look for them at any of the following locations: McDonalds, Burger King, Spar, Late Shop, Primark, TK-Maxx, any sportswear retailer or any local park (after 6pm). Examples of a chav's primative vocabulary are as follows:

Chav: Eeyar yo! Mosha! Gotta spare cig?
Brian: No, I don't smoke.
Chav: Wha' ya mean no, ya f*kin' mosha? Ah spark ya!
Brian: Go on then...
Chav: Yo Trace! (emerging from Mothercare) Pass us me mob so I can fone ya bruv!
Trace: Why, ya f*kin dick'ed?
Chav: So he can tune diss chav for me!
Trace: Got no credit, yo!
Trace's baby:
Trace: Shut it ya little fucka!

- I hope that clears it up for everyone... but if not, check out the informative ChavScum to bring you up to speed!

Chav McQueen

Well, the exam is over. That's about as much as I can say about that for now - until I get my results I'm keeping my lips zipped.

After I'd finished I wandered down to Hoxton, saw the Gary Hume exhibition at the White Cube; had a big coffee and some banana cake at a uber-cool cafe in Hoxton Square and then met OBF (Other Best Friend) at his new place in Shoreditch. It is so cute, and I haven't seen him looking so happy for ages.

We wandered back to Hoxton Square to a cheapo noodle bar for dinner (after a couple of beers) and sitting near us was Alexander McQueen, dressed like a complete chav. What is it with him? He has to be one of the brilliant designers of the moment, producing some truly incredible stuff - so what about his own appearance?

Maybe he's just going through a phase... ".... um, Mum, I have something I have to tell you.... I think I might be a Chav."

Yaoi of the Week

As my mind is literally swimming with detail as I approach my exam date (tomorrow)... I decided to post my semi-regular 'Boyfriend of the Week', thinking it would be something relatively simple.

Problem being, I couldn't even bear to think about anything remotely sexual right now.

So instead, I'm posting a Yaoi looking dude which I think pretty much sums up my current emotional state...

Psycho-Babble

My weekend consisted of study, study and more study. I have my Psycho exam on Thursday and am actually pretty nervous about it. The devil is in the detail in this case - or the details. I have so many theories flying around my brain.... if I can remember which theory belongs to which theorist it will be a near miracle.

Psychology has so many 'labels' it is untrue - and to remember them all is a near impossibility. Oh well - as my lovely friend NS (Non Smoker) pointed out - the statistics aren't looking too bad. Even if I guess most of my answers, there is a likelihood I guess a number of them correctly.

Let's hope that's the case ....

Mum, please don't read this post

I read an entry of the fabulous Zuzula's blog today which actually make me laugh so hard I cried. I'm hoping she doesn't mind that I'm sharing with you the passage (excuse the pun) that particularly appealed:

"... Neither of them have ever called me Cuntface though.

And when you think about it, what an interesting term that is. Can you imagine if you actually did look like a cunt? Might be a bit embarrassing. Especially once you started throbbing with excitement. Wouldn't go down too well at important meetings or family gatherings. And what on earth would you do with your hair?"

Glittery Gays

NS (Non Smoker) was kind enough to invite me to see a play - "Love me, Dorothy!" Tuesday night which was a lovely thought given my parental absence. It is always so much fun to see him - we have a lot in common, but are both so evil that the conversation never becomes tiresome.

The play was, in short, truly hilarious. But not really in a good way. It was like one of those films where it's so bad that it is actually brilliant. NS felt the need to apologise to me the entire way through, but there was no need - I laughed so hard a little bit of wee came out.

Lines including 'my lady garden needs tending' really cheered me up. Check out this fabulous review.

Afterwards we decided to wander over to Trash Planet for a post mortem, and awkwardly, at the front door (there is a long stairwell to get up to the actual bar) there was a glittered gay sitting in a wheelchair having a conversation with the doorbitch (an intimidating and rather large lesbian wearing some type of odd red spacesuit) who appeared to not want to let him in. NS and I were obviously suitably upset by this and had a brief conversation (between us) about carrying him up the stairs in his wheelchair, before deciding that it wasn't particularly our business (maybe it was the Nazi lesbian doorbitch's presence...).

Shortly after we sat down to our first drink, we were surprised to see GG (Glitter Gay) making an awkward journey up the second stairwell by foot and realised that he was obviously well known by the lesbian doorbitch we had previously (and probably unfairly) labelled a Nazi.

He gatecrashed a group of poofs sitting near us and worked the room like a well known celebrity (aka prostitute), literally draping himself over one of them. We couldn't help but wonder if the wheelchair had been some type of initial prop.

The whole thing felt like a scene from a Todd Solondz film to be honest. Which of course, thrilled me no end.

* random photo of Leigh Bowery simply there because I think he was the most fabulous glittery gay of all...

Tag-Head.

Right, before I start this tag, I have to apologise to Dabich for not doing hers months ago. Sorry, Dabich. It was right in the middle of my parental visit and I just didn't manage it! Hopefully my answers to this tag by K~ will compensate?

I know – that soon I may melt.
I believe – that fireflies tell the truth.
I fought – against the evil of botox. (did I? no, actually I just made that up.)
I am angered – by people who fart in small places.
I love – food.
I need – to decide what I want to be.
I take – prozac. Not really. I just drink lots of gin.
I hear – traffic go past my apartment all night.
I drink – lots of gin.
I hate – ignorance.
I use – bone china when I drink tea.
I want – my own Totoro.
I decided – that I’m an atypical gay.
I like – people.
I am - myself.
I feel – displaced a lot of the time.
I left – my family in Australia.
I do – kiss boys.
I hope – to not go mad.
I dream – about people I know and don’t know.
I drive – people a bit crazy.
I listen – most of the time, unless someone bores me.
I type – fast. Go speed racer.
I think – too much.
I wish – a lot.
I compensate – for my misbehaviour.
I regret – my psychotic episodes.
I care – what happens to my friends and family.
I should – be more positive.
I am not always - sober.
I said – “please sign my tit” to Gene Simmons. (not really but I wish I had).
I wonder – what will happen to the world.
I changed – my underwear this morning.
I cry – at the most ridiculous things and inappropriate moments.
I am – Ziggy.
I am not – David Bowie.
I lose – my keys quite often.
I leave – my sanity at home from time to time.

I think I have to tag others now... but how many? hhhmmm. I tag:

Ryan who loves cybersex
This Monkey who Twinkles
The Bohemian of all Lady Bohemians
The Man who Muses Middle Age

please let me know when you've completed it...