The 10s

10 Rules of People:

1. You can accurately gauge a girl's maturity by their response to Winona Ryder's decision in Reality Bites. Yes to choosing Troy (Ethan Hawke) = immature. Yes to choosing Michael (Ben Stiller) = Mature.
2. Women with bells on their anklet/hem of their skirt are idiots. No exception.
3. Yes periods are a pain and they get worse with age and we all know that if men got periods, tampons et al. would be free etc. - but they are not THAT bad. Guys? Don't let the bitch get away with murder...
4. The only people who believe that oft-repeated lie that kids are only mean to other kids, "because they're jealous" are desperate (and in denial) parents of fat/ugly/stupid/geeky kids. I remember the kids at school who were made fun of and 9 times out of 10, the taunts were true. Kids aren't jealous, they're brutally honest.
5. Women like men who like "real women".
6. Friends don't use friends' laptops to jerk off to porn (you know who you are!).
7. How people look when in great pain is exactly how they look during orgasm. (Sub-consciously this is why little boys hit girls they like in the playground - they want a sneak preview)
8. Contrary to nearly every film with even one scene in a high school, girls do not prance around the locker room in their underwear/in the nude. Sorry.
9. Every city in America has a "point" where teenagers go to make-out. Every city has a girl named Tiffany who lost her virginity there.
10. Any woman over the age of 20 who claims never to have masturbated is lying to you.

10 Rules of Nando's:

1. Though you may use a knife and fork, you will not manage an entire meal without getting your fingers dirty. If you do, you will find this greatly reduces your enjoyment of the meal.
2. You will spend at least 2 % your meal-time reading the history of peri-peri sauce from the wall/menu.
3. A significant portion of the patrons will be ethnic minorities; for a short while this will give you the impression of being on holiday in an exotic location.
4. You must at least try the Extra Hot sauce.
5. Having built up this Extra Hot sauce to be liquid fire in a glass bottle, you will no doubt be somewhat let down by it's piquancy, no matter how mild your taste buds.
6. The only real dessert to have is the bottomless frozen yogurt. As much ice cream as you want AND it's all fat free!
7. It is quite simply rude not to have at least one corn on the cob on your table.
8. Though the restaurant will always look crowded, you will find it surprisingly easy to get a seat.
9. The meal should never take you longer than 45 minutes from placing your order to the last bite.
10. If it's your first time, you will be perpetually surprised by how tasty everything is and wonder quite how you managed without this food before. Due to this enjoyment, you will somehow manage to convince yourself that the food is healthy, thus justifying returning visits.

10 Rules of At-Home Cocktail Preparation:

1. If there are at least 3 boys under the age of 35 in the room, within 2.5 minutes of announcing one is going to make cocktails, someone will have cracked a joke involving the words "cock" and "tail" used as sexual derogatory terms.
2. Always remember the ice. If possible, put the ice in first to prevent that awkward moment wherein you realize there isn't enough room for said ice in the glass.
3. Spending money on glassware is not only a lasting investment, it also means you can scrimp on the quality of liquor. Even store-brand Gin tastes like Tanqueray if it's consumed from sparkling crystal. Conversely, even a vintage Dom Perignon tastes like shit out of a plastic cup.
4. If you are without a proper measuring tool, a good rule of thumb is thus - when using Coke as a mixer, if you can't see through the drink, there isn't enough liquor (regardless of what liquor is being used) .
5. It is recommended you acquire and make use of a jug to avoid constant trips to the kitchen for re-fills. This can also have the added affect of giving the illusion you are in a tikka bar on vacation.
6. When you go out, anything less than a quadruple shot will taste significantly weaker than what you drink at home. Rather than forcing a perhaps overdue evaluation of your drinking habits, this will simply encourage you to go home at the earliest opportunity.
7. Under no circumstances should you attempt emulation of Tom Cruise's character in Cocktail. If you are with someone who tries this, exit immediately.
8. Yes to straws, always (gets alcohol to system quicker; doesn't smudge lipstick). Double yes to novelty twist straws. No to useless plastic mixing sticks.
9. Ensure either yourself or your drinking partner is good at refilling the ice tray. There is little more discouraging than eagerly opening a freezer to 3 empty ice trays.
10. Combining every liquor and mixer you have in one drink is not a "home-made Long Island ice tea", it's pre-consumed puke.

10 Rules of Bands:

1. Any wife/girlfriend of a band member will forever be described in print as "long-suffering".
2. The lead guitarist and lead singer will likely be in a constant battle for sexual popularity and critical praise.
3. At least one member of the band will form a side project in which he/she will produce music at the opposite of the musical spectrum to the band. He/she will release said side project on a small independently owned label perhaps under a pseudonym depending on the size of his/her ego.
4. No one will refer to the drummer as a "musician" in all seriousness.
5. At least 2 members will have a substance abuse problem. You will only know about one of them.
6. The level of popularity for a mid-level band is directly proportional to the amount of Japanese female fans they have.
7. Every band member is merely a variation of one of the following personality types: tortured genius or party animal. That is it.
8. The lothario of the band is ultimately the least-satisfying in bed. Screwing a different 17 year-old groupie every night does not a good lover make. Hence - Charlie Watts is a much better lay than Gene Simmons.
9. Any band wishing to move into a "drastically new musical direction" is exactly 1.5 albums away from breaking up.
10. Back stage is never as exciting as you think it will be. And no matter what, you will get corralled into some sort of help.

10 Rules of Musical Taste:

1. Anyone who says they "like all music" has no musical taste.
2. You will never like a band more than the one you liked when you were 14. No matter what you discover afterwards, this will remain, in your heart of hearts, your favorite band forever.
3. If when asked to name their 5 favorite bands, someone names 5 bands you have never heard of - they are desperately trying to impress you. Be flattered.
4. It is near impossible to find someone in a popular up-and-coming band who will admit to sincerely liking the music he/she is making. Needless self-deprecation is the true currency of the music world.
5. If you are between the ages of 17-23 and "into music" it is your duty to put down the NME as often as possible.
6. Red Hot Chili Peppers is officially the most unpopular band among 18-25 year-old hipsters. There is no-one who likes this band even ironically (which is really how most music is consumed amongst this demographic in any case. I think the last band people earnestly liked was Led Zeppelin).
7. Deny all you want, none of you had Bleach before Nevermind.
8. Once someone reaches 40, it is no longer acceptable to be defined by one's musical tastes.
9. To be one of the hip kids, you must avoid mainstream like the plague, with 2 exceptions: The ironic enjoyment of mainstream (i.e. art students buying High School Musical albums) and the ultra mainstream which is so basic it becomes profound (ie Call on Me by Eric Prize)
10. If you have any intelligence, you'll realize that when it comes down to it, someone else's taste in music is arbitrary and really won't tell you a damn thing about them as a person.

10 Non-existent Ailments/Problems/"Facts" Completely Made Up by Advertisers:

1. Underarm skin is parched and needs moisturizing (despite the enormous concentration of sweat glands providing constant wetness all day; the wetness, in fact, that this deodorant was initially intended to curb...) (Dove deodorant)
2. Having to turn windshield wipers on is far too stressful for the average driver, therefore the car should know when it starts to rain and perform this difficult task for us. (Mercedes)
3. No human ever actually likes vegetables, if they are to be eaten they must be hidden in something else so we don't know we're consuming them because they are all disgusting. (Every diet company ever)
4. Having to re-apply lipstick is an earth-shatteringly difficult chore women can't possibly fit into their busy schedules. (Max Factor,Revlon, Cover Girl - any company manufacturing long-wear lipstick)
5. All women over 45 want cosmetic surgery (espesh Botox!!) and there is nothing worse to a woman than wrinkles and age (Loreal Age Defy/Garnier)
6. The inside of a toilet bowl must be sanitary, even though no part of the human body ever touches it (Toilet Duck)
7. The ability to reach the tops of kitchen cabinets to clean is of utmost importance to mothers nationwide (any extending mop manufacturer)
8. Kitchen towels that can't hold the weight of fruit when wet are utterly useless (Bounty)
9. The death of moronic teenagers whose only ambition in life is to be a famous pop star and live in a big house or make vin diesel-esque action films and who can't manage to cross a fucking road without getting hit by a car is not only a loss to society as a whole but somehow not their fault (rather than being natural selection...) (Thinkroadsafety.gov.uk)
10. Toilet paper must be as soft as cashmere, absorbent as sponge and bouncy as rubber to actually work. (Andrex/Charmin etc)

10 Things I've Argued About:

1. Whether one can drive through Russia.
2. If the kids in Breakfast Club remained friends come Monday morning.
3. Whether the moon landing really happened.
4. Capital and corporal punishment.
5. The existence of bisexuals.
6. Whether a girl is a slut for sleeping with a guy the first night.
7. How much I offended someone the night before.
8. If it's wrong to judge someone based on their appearance.
9. If the guy should pay for everything.
10. Whether someone can be intelligent and religious simultaneously.

10 Things I Thought of Doing, Didn't, But Later Wish I Had:

1. Moved to Los Angeles after University.
2. Told my step-mother what really happened.
3. Been taught everything about cars from my father.
4. Learned domestic duties (cooking/sewing etc) from my mother
5. Told my brother immediately about taking step-mother's car and crashing it when I was 13
6. Ended relationships as soon as I knew they were over and doomed (this goes for every single relationship I've ever been in, bar one).
7. Lied about our belongings on the insurance claim form.
8. Kissed Graham Bosworth at his high school graduation when I was 16
9. Yelled at that shitty flight attendant and mentioned my father being a captain of the airline.
10. Gone back to New Orleans sooner

10 Favorite Public Scares:

1. Petrol Crisis
2. Mad cow disease
3. Bird Flu
4. Africanized Bees
5. Anthrax (the poison and the band)
6. Judgement Day
7. Y2K
8. War of the Worlds
9. H bomb
10. Michael Jackson

10 Favorite "Which would you pick if you had to keep one and lose the other?" Questions:

1. Peanut Butter or Aerosmith? (Incidentally, this is the hardest question I've ever asked myself. I genuinely still can't answer it)
2. Pencils or Hawaii?
3. The internet or Tuesdays?
4. The ability to hear David Bowie or the ability to see Angelina Jolie?
5. Season one of the O.C. or the chaos theory?
6. Rubber ice trays or retractable cables on vacuum cleaners?
7. Hanging flower baskets or car air fresheners?
8. The sound of laughter or the memory of yourself ages 8-15?
9. Salt or blue ink?
10. Golf courses or haircuts?

10 Things I Genuinely Don't Like Which I'm Fairly Sure I Should:

1. The Big Lebowski
2. Making new friends
3. The majority of Blur's output.
4. The film and music work of Bjork.
5. Discussing music/film with someone who knows more about it than you so they can "teach you"
6. The Dark Knight
7. Hearing about someone else's day.
8. Bumping into friends unexpectedly in the street.
9. The faux-inclusive, my-first-feminism, eye-roll inducing, rudimentary ideals of Caitlin Moran
10. Not making plans and just going with the flow

9 Types of Heavy Drinkers (according to the Department of Health in England - with number 10 provided by yours truly)

1. Depressed drinker

2. De-stress drinker

3. Re-bonding drinker

4. Conformist drinker

5. Community drinker

6. Boredom drinker

7. Macho drinker

8. Hedonistic drinker

9. Border dependents
10. ALL OF THE ABOVE

I encourage you to make lists of 10s. Any suggestions for further 10 lists would be greatly appreciated.

Cool is to Funny as Oil is to Water

Over the weekend, I attended this Street & Studio exhibition at Tate Modern with some friends. I thought it was great fun, though I did get in free thanks to said friends having membership so I suppose that helped. However a curious thing occurred upon our exit - everyone else in my little group mentioned that, while an enjoyable exhibit, it was striking how little connection there seemed to be between any of the photos on display. There was no central motif here and this a bit of a flaw for a major exhibition. I was then hit with a freight train of depressing reality when I realized that in my simple, and clearly un-cultured mind, I was content with the theme simply being a bunch of cool photos from over the years taken in streets and studios. Essentially, the theme was “cool” itself, and that was just fine by me. Perhaps I’ve suffered through so many “cool” exhibitions/installations/openings/performances in hipster heaven Hoxton that I simply expect the theme to always be “cool”, even though few ever achieve this.

Amongst all the black and white cool, I came across the work of this woman, Laurie Anderson:


She’s better known as a performance artist and sometime-singer, though for this event she was in photographer mode. Back in 1973 she took a selection of photos of all the men who 'harrassed' her on the street over the course of a given day. Every time a male made a sexually suggestive remark to her (which was unbelievably frequent), she snapped their picture. It's supposed to be about empowerment, taking control back from the oppressive man, assaulting men with her camera just as they had collectively assaulted her with their lascivious words. Or whatever. Feminists loved this, she was a hero helping to take back the streets. Even now there’s a whole new generation of activist women who’ve taken this work to heart and have given it a modern twist it with the help of camera phones. They surreptitiously prowl construction sites, until finally some bored, under-paid builder half-heartedly bellows, “Hey baby, how 'bout it?” or something to that effect, whereupon they can whip out their Razr and snap infinite pictures of the offender while screaming about no meaning no and the implied patriarchy and offense of such degrading remarks. Then they probably upload these photos to a Flickr stream of similar “creeps” and feel great pride when a fellow power-taker-backer comments under the photo that by taking and posting this picture they’ve effectively, “taken one more much-needed step in the fight against male tyranny the world over. Perhaps a woman won’t get raped tonight because of this picture.”.
It’s these women that destroy feminism for the rest of us, by the way.

ANYWAYS, turns out this woman, Laurie Anderson, is married to Lou Reed. At first I figured they’d been together for decades; I imagined them having met in the wild bacchanalia of the 70’s at some underground club in deepest Manhattan - her, nude and painting herself the colours of female empowerment, him, strumming one note on his guitar behind a droning Nico. But no. They married last year. From what I can gather (and granted, I could be wrong) they’ve only been together, in some capacity, since the early 90’s. By that point these crazy cats were in their late 40’s, when they should’ve been heading towards crisis city in Mid-Life town. This is when Lou should’ve been banging some Spanish chanteuse under the guise of producing her debut gypsy-punk album. But instead, he was still lusting after the same old performance-artist-Factory-type he did in his 20’s. It’s almost impressive how little his tastes have changed. He still wants the overtly serious girl who spends her days quoting Da-da artists and constructing installation pieces out of cellophane and used tampons. Leopards never change their spots I suppose. He just wants the theme of his life, much like that of the photography exhibition, to be “cool” - and I guess he’s succeeding.

This got me wondering about the theme of my life, and whatever it is, I don’t think it’s cool. It can’t be cool, because I’m too concerned with being funny and this reminded me of a theory of mine I’ve been meaning to discuss - that one can’t be genuinely cool and genuinely funny simultaneously. You can be one or the other, but cool and funny do not go hand in hand.

Now before everyone goes ape-shit about how cool AND funny all the people they know are, bear in mind that in this case I’m dealing in rather strict definitions of cool and funny. When I say “cool” I don’t mean how your friends are all totally cool or how the new jeans you got yesterday are cool or how the Olympics were cool. Nor am I talking about ironic cool such as, “Phil Collins was cool man!” *. I’m talking about the basic and strongest, yet perhaps most abstract, meaning of cool. And also the most mainstream meaning. Jack Nicholson is cool. Vincent Gallo is cool. Fight Club is cool. The Strokes are cool. You may hate all these things, but that’s beside the point. The theme unifying all of them is an undeniable and over-lying impression of cool. Whatever you may think about Bret Easton Ellis, there’s something achingly cool about his books. Though he may be perhaps over-rated, one would be hard-pressed to deny that Andy Warhol was cool. Some of these things/people are somewhat contrived cool, I’ll admit. Wearing too-small blazers and tight jeans with converse, for instance, was bound to look cool on The Strokes you might say; but The Vines did that as well, and they were most certainly not cool.
Cool at this level is unexplainable, indefinable. Some might say its a carefree reckless attitude, others could contend it’s a level of confidence, and it could easily be argued that it’s purely aesthetic. Which, in the case of several bands, might actually be the case.
But one aspect all these havens of coolness have in common, is that none of them are really very funny. Nicholson may make lewd asides in interviews, raise his eyebrows, grin and get a chuckle. Vincent Gallo will project obtusely Republican and outwardly racist viewpoints and hip kids will knowingly laugh. But these people/bands/books/movements etc. are not exactly barrels of laughter.

Conversely, truly funny people are never cool on that level. Yet again, when I say funny I mean people who are actively making an effort to be very funny and are succeeding in doing so. I don’t mean how Arnie is funny in Batman and Robin, or how the Miss Teen USA girl can barely string a sentence together or that time your friend fell out of a tree and it was HILARIOUS. I mean epic funny, people whose careers are based almost entirely on being defiantly funny. Unusual and quirky, yet mainstream enough to attract millions. Seinfeld, Chris Rock, Woody Allen, Jim Carrey, Robin Williams, Billy Connelly, et al. – not a cool one among ‘em. Love them or hate them, they ain’t cool. Of course you may personally find a funny person cool - but in the general societal terms of cool as previously defined, none of these guys have it. And interestingly, the closer someone gets to cool, the less truly funny they become.
Consider Bill Hicks – one of history’s greatest stand-ups, a true rebel and probably as close as a comedian has ever come to being considered genuinely cool. Yet, he’s not in the same funny league as the aforementioned comedians. Audiences of his didn’t spend their time in uproarious laughter, it was more a smug, knowing chuckle. He wasn’t going for the big laughs, he was challenging people, making them think a little harder than usual; sure it was all said with great humour, but it wasn’t gut-bustingly funny. He was more cool by making cutting observations and criticising The Man, but it wasn’t about being hilarious; it was almost depressingly funny. Some might argue this was better, he was making a real point. And he was cool while doing it. Dennis Leary then came along, took the same routines and made them more laugh-out-loud funny, and as a result, became less cool. It all adds up, people.

Also, it’s worth nothing that people can lose their cool far easier then they can lose their funny. Richard Pryor was funny ‘til the day he died, even multiple sclerosis and setting himself alight didn't stop him cracking jokes; meanwhile, John Cusack couldn’t hold on to his cool status for more than about 3 years in the late 90’s. It seems clear which virtue has more lasting benefits. That is the nature of cool, it’s very much of it’s time, hence why it seems such a feat when someone or something manages to retain coolness for any sustained period.
Lou Reed, however, has personified an untouchable aura of cool for 40 years. He even survived this. But he knows that things are getting testy now. He doesn’t do much press these days, his albums are produced and released to the public without much fanfare. He figures if he just keeps his head down and doesn’t fuck up he can ride out these last 20 years or so without compromising his cool. Then he can die with his coolness intact, something not many people have achieved. He hasn’t much competition at this point either – Keith Richards was cool, until he started falling out of coconut trees and hanging around Johnny Depp. John Lydon lost every ounce of cool when he got involved with reality TV. Even Bowie’s been involved in way too many sub-par films, and released too many turgid albums, not to mention his Parkinson appearances, to still be considered cool. Lou Reed can really make it. He’s even married this performance artist idiot** to complete the package, you can’t find a chink in his armour of cool.

Of course, the downside of being so innately cool is that one inevitably has to be a bit of a dick. You may have noticed this – most truly cool people are kind of assholes. One has to be; it’s time-consuming being that effortless all the time; one must prioritise one’s time, sacrifices must be made and common courtesy is often the first to the gauntlet. Small price to pay for a lifetime of getting away with wearing sunglasses indoors.
Likewise, don’t think the truly funny are getting away scot-free in this equation either, this too is a life wrought with sacrifice. The most common issue with these guys is the Sad Clown Syndrome, suffered by several truly funny people. This usually manifests itself in a recurring midnight frenzy of crippling self-doubt and harrowing re-assessment of one’s ever-dwindling worth, all of which is more often than not accompanied by copious amounts of drugs and/or alcohol in the vain hope that a narcotic haze will have formed by the morning, thus erasing all memory of the anguishing self-realization. This is why truly funny people are often single, and maintain an essentially nihilistic and bitter view of the world.

Of course, you needn’t worry too much about the thorns of either of these personality roses. The vast majority of people are neither cool nor funny, so it rarely bears any meaning to most people’s lives, including yours. But for those in these upper echelons of humour and hipness, life can be an uphill battle living up to expectations.
So when Eddie Murphy releases Norbit 2 or Harmony Korine makes a movie for Fox, don’t be so quick to say how they’ve lost their edge or sold out, just feel pity for them - they just couldn't keep it up. And take comfort in the fact that you are neither cool, nor funny – it’s an easy life being average! Meanwhile, let’s all keep a collective eye on Lou Reed, he’s got a long road ahead…




*Though Sussudio is, in fact, cool.

**I am being a little cruel about this woman to be honest, yes she does come across as a pretentious moron who hasn’t laughed at anything (except George Bush, ironically) since 1978, but she also helped construct this Talking Stick mechanism which does seem pretty nifty. So maybe I can cut her a break.

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Funeral for a Trend

VS.

When did charities and funerals get in bed together? Why does every funeral disallow flowers these days and instead force it's attendees to give to charity? I guess I understand if the stiff in the box was a big philanthropist his/herself but otherwise, I just don't get it. I'm sure some people would tell me it's down to that ignorant and idiotic saying, "Flowers are pointless - they just take up space and die". Um yeah, just like the person who we're holding the funeral for, right? The irony of this train of thought is staggering - surely the entire point of funeral is to celebrate the life, however brief, of someone? Is a flower not a great symbol for the often startling brevity of life itself? Blooming and bright one minute, whithering towards the grave the next. The bright fullness of flowers at a funeral remind us of how wonderful life can, and hopefully was for the deceased, be; how we should take advantage of our time with each other more effectively, and how many happy memories we hopefully have with those passed on. The sheer satisfaction of looking at flowers and the emotional resonance of them can not be duplicated by passing on one's money to a disease-fighting charity (however worthy a cause this may be).
I suppose some funeral homes ask that there not be flowers. Perhaps this is true, though if this appears to be the case, I would start shopping around; when my dear grandmother died and we held her funeral in small town rural England, we weren't restricted at all despite the small size of the venue and surrounding garden. I'm so glad we had flowers at her funeral, it was perhaps the most enjoyable part of the service. After the ceremony, with it's unavoidable melancholy, we all ventured outside to look at the numerous bouquets people had sent. It was certainly far more heart-warming to look down and see a beautiful flower arrangement sent from my father from half-way around the world, then it would've been to a few weeks later (or even never?!) hear that he donated some money to a charity. How on earth would this had helped the bereaved? Surely if there's any time in life to be selfish, it is in the time of mourning; and it was certainl comforting and healthy for everyone at the funeral to end it on a cheerful and touching note. Looking at all the flowers on display, where they all came from, seeing right in front of us just how much affection there was from around the world for my grandmother was far more consoling than the abstract idea that someone might be clicking a "donate" button on their computer at that moment.
in any case, if one is adamant that there mustn't be flowers no matter what - what happened to "charity starts at home"? The cost of a funeral is often a huge burden on family members already dealing with great strain, surely it would be in everyone's better interest to donate proceeds directly to the family towards the cost of the service and burial/cremation? Why should some bureaucratic faceless organization get the money??
The whole things seems so impersonal to me, and I'm fairly sure no one gets any satisfaction from the transaction (save for the charity, of course). The mourning family are left with no symbols of support coming from far away relatives and friends, and those unable to attend the service are left without any memorable or tangible way to show much they care for the dearly departed.

I call for a stop to this madness. If people want to give to charity, they shall do so of their own volition; but a funeral is not a benefit. It's about celebrating the life of, and mourning the loss of, a loved one - and sending flowers as a way to send ones' regards and sympathy is a tradition not to be sniffed at. I for one will be having flowers at my parents' funerals and I surely hope that whomever is unlucky enough to be lumbered with dealing with my death does the same for me. Oriental lilies are my favorite, just in case you're stumped...

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Brenda + Dylan = 4 Eva

So presumably everyone is excited about the new Beverly Hills 90210? Well, I am unlike the average joe. I'm TURBO excited. This is my 12 year-old dream come true. Soon my 15 yr-old dream will come true and they'll make final episodes for My So-Called Life. Even though everyone's 30 now. Anyways, in honor of this new development in the 90210 continuity (this is actually what the industry calls it), lets look back on those golden days of teen drama. I was actually a member of a Bevery Hills 90210 club. It was basically me and my friends and I don't recall us ever actually meeting, but it sure was an honor just to be a part of it. I also had a Brandon Walsh doll (to go along with my Joey McIntyre NKOTB doll) and I'm sure it's still packed away somewhere. I kept it in pristine condition, still in it's box and everything. It must be worth a fair bit by now, in fact - but like I'd ever part with that. As if!
What this all boils down to is how rocking this show was, from the incredible theme tune, to the clothes, to the music (remember when the girls snuck into Color Me Badd's hotel?!) to the Peach Pit. It was everything the early 90's was about. Dylan and his shit-hot Porsche. Andrea and her "poor" background. Brenda listening to REM's Man on the Moon while moping around her room. I mean for reals - these kids had it all. Sure it turned to shit when Brenda left and Tiffini Amber-Thiessen of Saved By The Bell fame (look out for further affinity between these two programs...) took her place and they all went to college and seemed to age 5 years in one summer. But for about 3 years, this was the greatest thing that happened to television:

Look at how casually Luke Perry/Dylan McKay is standing. Look at how un-casually Jason Priestly/Brandon Walsh is wincing standing.

Aaaaallllll that denim. Love Jennie Garth/Kelly Taylor's pose. Truly love Shannon Doherty's/Brenda Walsh's shoes. And all that goddam denim.


"Purse those lips Jennie! Shannon - think of your diva reputation - now PURSE!"




I think this was taken at the height of the show, or thereabouts. Shannon Doherty is looking HAWT. Look at her face - she KNOWS she's the hottest girl on set. She KNOWS everyone thinks she's a bitch. Girl does not give a shit. Also, I remember it was this photo that was used to promote the episode in which David's loser friend shot himself to death. Well, he only shot himself once and it was accidental (he was playing with his dad's handgun, spinning it round his finger wild-west style and it went off. DUH) but it did kill him. Shot himself all the way to death. Anyways, to promote this Very Special Episode of 90210, they printed the above picture in TV Guide with the ominous caption, "One of these people will die tonight" or something to that effect. In any case, it was so fucking obvious that David's loser friend (on the far right) was gonna die as the rest were all main characters and he was just David's idiot friend who wore that cowboy hat all the time and had a really fucked up mother. Still, nice kicks.

Couldn't find this any larger, but this was such a great time for the show. When they filmed the second season over the summer in 1991, this was a huge moment for television. While every other series was in re-run hell, this was the only show churning out fresh episodes all summer long. Right when teenagers needed television the most, 90210 delivered. Smooth move. Though I often find that whenever I think of the 90210 summer episodes, I automatically start thinking about the Saved By the Bell summer episodes; both of which involved major characters working at a beach resort to ensure every episode had reason to show young hardbodies in bikinis and trunks.

Have I mentioned that I ADORE Brenda Walsh/Shannon Doherty? Sorry Mischa Barton, Blake Lively et al. but this is the original Icon. (But Leighton Meester? You're on your way...)

Ah man - remember when this biker chick came in to get with Brandon? I dunno about where you lived, but where I lived, EVERY girl I knew hated her. Where did she go in the end? Perhaps she was killed by a gang of Brandon Walsh fangirls All I know is she was an unpopular casting decision. Much like when the biker chick turned up to get with Zack in Saved By the Bell and we were meant to pretend we didn't notice that Jesse and Kelly were gone. Did these shows share writers??









And here's the supposed new crew



Only one token ethnic minority? And he's black?? That's SOOO 1999. Everyone knows the token ethnic these days should be Asian. Anything from Pakistani to Korean. Harold or Kumar. Oh, and one of these guys has to be gay, right?


All hail the original teen drama to beat them all:



PS - while I looking for photos I came across this:




Okay - that is NOT Jennie Garth, and whoever it is - those tits have been heavily photoshopped. But I love the quote. Notice she refers to her as "Brenda", the character, rather than Shannon. As though this is "Kelly", not Jennie, talking.

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Forever Fake Tits

Is Botox bio-degradable? Is silicone? Or saline? If not, then this must present quite a predicament to all these Hollywood ladies who spend all their time preaching about the environment, driving their Hybrid's, drinking Fair Trade coffee, eating locally sourced vegetables, off-setting their carbon emissions every time they fly and so on. All this effort to prove to everyone how much they care about 'the cause', how much the future of humanity is in their hands and yet when they die, and their body disintegrates into the ground, all that will remain is plastic lumps and mounds. The only evidence of their vacuous existence. Is this why cremation is so popular? In fact, if you think about it, cremation's rise in popularity seemed to coalesce with the rise of plastic surgery and environmentalism. Was this their main selling point? Stop burning fossil fuels - let us burn you!

Also - while on the topic of environmentalism, has you noticed the recent trend for telling us that we must save the plant for the sake of our grandchildren? Remember when it was just about the current children? I remember when I was the future, every cause was for the sake of me. I feel sorry for today's kids, no one seems to care about them. It's all about THEIR offspring. The current 0-16 yr olds are like this lost generation. Everyone worried about their grandchildren, no one caring about their present spawn. No wonder kids are getting knocked up at 14, it's the only way to get mommy away from the recycling.
Well, not me. Tell you what - I don't give two shits about my grandchildren. I think the relationship between grandchildren and grandparents is weird enough as is. There's such an age-gap (unless you're from the deep south or Scotland in which case your grandmother is 35) and usually there's only a few meetings per year mixed in with the requisite greeting cards for Special Events. The entire relationship is so forced, not to mention one-sided; most kids don't care about their grandparents really, they just want that $20 check in the birthday card and in the meantime you're lucky to share a few tender moments in between mutual intense boredom. By the time kids reach a level of maturity which offers them the perspective to view their grandparents as interesting people rather than just old fogies, the grandparents are going senile and then they inevitably pop off, so the entire exercise is rather a waste of time. As such, my relationship with my future grandchildren will likely be a bit strained already, must I now start caring about these little shits in my 20's?

By the way, I loved my grandparents dearly - but they're all dead now, so I can sorta say what I want really.

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Glastonbury 2008

Get ready for a picture post bitches! Normally I would accompany this photo assault with witty social commentary as per usual. However, most of things worth discussing (Jay-Z; the difference between food now (organic gourmet dishes) and what I was faced with 10 years ago (tepid pizza and cheap crepes); Kate Moss's face etc.) I have no pictorial evidence of.
As such, I will simply display pictures and then interject with captions which will for the most part, tell you nothing that you couldn't have gathered yourself. I call it "subverting the rigid conventions of photo-journalism", you'll call it "irritating and ultimately tedious".

But first - I will say that there were 3 marked differences between this years Glastonbury and the Glastonbury's of yore - i.e. the late 90's:

• 1. Fashion. I unfortunately took few pictures of this, but girls have upped their festival fashion, big time. I'd say about 90% of the girls there were wearing 'outfits' - every day. No more of this combats stuffed into black wellingtons with a dreary kag thrown on top. Literally every girl there looked like an extra from The Hills; it was incredible. They were hot, young, slender and well-dressed. I welcome this change; I've never agreed with the notion that because one is in a tent, one must compromise her style. Sartorial laziness ain't cool. Luckily I am no longer alone in this opinion. I remember years ago when Kate Moss stood out simply by wearing a waistcoat and hotpants. This year when she swanned through the camping field in full view of the public, she looked rather normal. Of course the skinny legs and ugly boyfriend gave her away, but she is no longer the lone style queen on the festival circuit. Well done girls for finding another event worthy of a preliminary shopping trip. Unfortunately the same can not be said for the boys who, for the most part, looked like rejects from a Noasis open casting call.

• 2. Cocaine. As you may well know, I don't partake in any of this narcotics funny business, I stick to classier pursuits like Gin and cigarettes. However, even as an innocent bystander, one couldn't help but notice the prevalence of The White Stuff at Glastonbury. In previous years, herb was king and the place was rammed full of crusty hippies toking on their doobies with wild abandon. As a result, you were constantly bombarded with a wave of that muddy, slightly sweet aroma of ole mary jane througout the day. But, if these hot young things are to remain skinny binnies, munchies ain't gonna help. So this year, it was all about schnauser powder. Every time I walked past a tent, someone was leaning over a hand mirror and while watching bands I was struck by the amount of people around me seemingly sniffing their keys...

• 3. Clean (ish) toilets. I remember in the olden days of Glasters (so much better than "Glasto"), the biggest plus point of Thursday was that this was the only day on which one could even consider sitting down to urinate. By Saturday night, most women had thighs of steel from the constant crouching. However, I'll have you know that this year I managed to sit down in the toilet on SUNDAY. Imagine that. And it wasn't cos I just gave up caring. It was because unbelievably they actually had cleaners there this year. The toilets were emptied and cleaned and (aside from those near the main stage which were perennially vomit-inducing) actually usable. Impressive. But still, celebs take their backstage toilets for granted. Spoiled children...

On to the photo fest!
I did a fairly average job of taking pictures to be honest. I missed out on so many photo op's it's hardly laughable. But it still is.


The train journey there was pure traveling pleasure. I can't recall the last trip I embarked upon with as much anticipation. Plus - we had first class seats! Somehow these were cheaper than standard tickets (it pay dividends to order tickets early kids) though in future, I would pay more for them in any case as the difference was abundant. Standard class was rammed with festival goers, all endless backpacks and carrier bags and tents and sleeping bags and so on, all crammed sardine-style into compact carriages with nothing to offer but tray tables the size of postage stamps, a complete lack of storage space and leg room clearly constructed with the body of a 5 year-old in mind.


First class however, we were rolling in style. Stretch-out space, copious storage room, complimentary drinks, huge wooden table, our own power point etc. Of course we didn't really let the class go to our heads as is evident by our choice of meal:




I don't think the other passengers were too pleased, they were probs just trying to get home after a day at the stuffy office:










First meal of the festival was deelish - mainly because it came from one of many stands which serve to make up "My Favorite Addition to Glastonbury" - Mexican food! It was EVERYWHERE. It was astonishing. Elsewhere in this quaint little country, Mexican food is a kind of exotic cuisine which can only be found on backstreets of London if you know where to look. But for some reason, in the micro-city of Glastonbury, it's one of the most well-represented foreign foodstuffs. Here's a slice of refried beans/salsa/cheese heaven:




Of course we brought our own savory snacks, money saving and all. The following day, the Christmas Eve of the festival, Thursday, we went to a little cafe which was called Tea Time or something, though the owners should really consider changing it's name to, "Guardian Readers ONLY!" as this is what it was. I've never seen so many Guardian peeps coralled together in one place, a herd of liberal and green-loving cattle sipping their organic chai. And us.






By the way, I think this is my favorite picture from the festival. Everything that I feel about the the world is encapsulated in Tudds' face.


The Great Fire of Glastonbury '08



Not sure I'll ever really "get" the teepee village. The price is unavoidably extortionate considering what you're paying for. I'd rather have one of those wooden pod things that they offered this year. The contradiction of the "getting back to earth"-ness of the teepee and the fee involved seems wrong somehow. But I do like the idea of having a fire inside your tent.





This hill never used to be open to festival goers til this year. It offers great views of the whole site, and it's defs the highest point. Higher, for instance, than this, the viewing tower:



which everyone is just dying to get into. Check out this fancy photo of yours truly - the line you see behind me is for this stupid tower:



One place no-one was in line for was this gorgeous Japanese restaurant. An actual restaurant serving what looked like increds sushi and teriyaki, unfortunately all at typics Japanese prices. But it was so authentic, all low tables and and floor cushions to sit on. I SO wanted to eat here. However, as with most desires of mine, it never came to fruition.




Mud came on Friday. Wowser.



But I did make new friends and watch my dear old friend Dev play his little heart out. Twice!










As well as raping the backstage booze, I also took advantage of the stellar restroom facilities. And stole high-end toilet paper. I'm so gracious with affluence...






Then Dev joined We Are Scientists on The Other Stage.








Dev was also really proud to be wearing a No Bra shirt. Really proud.



Also, thanks to him, I had the best steak sandwich of my entire life at some backstage food establishment.




Friday night was probably my favorite night of the weekend. This is obvious as I have the fewest pictures from it.







Saturday - sunshine and circus.









The amount of seagulls overhead was startling. While it did give an odd sea-side resort feel to the event, it also filled me with slight trepidation that if we smelled so bad on Saturday that birds were circling above, I was unprepared for the likely stench come Monday...



All the world cuisine you could ask for on offer here, but why bother the risk? Stick with what you know. Good ole fried battery chicken:






See, the thing about a festival like Glastonbury is you can do whatever you want, maaan. You can dress up like a peacock, spend an entire day pretending to be an envelope - whatever you want. Everything's A-okay down glaster's way. And if you find yourself feeling a tad drowsy in the afternoon sun - no problem! Just take a nap between some cesspit-like port-a-potties and overflowing roasting-in-the-sun trash cans! GREAT IDEA.



Of course the best part of a sunshine-filled day is the warm and balmy evening that follows, right? Totally! English countryside's are famous for their sticky-hot nights, right?! Outta the way Miami, Glastonbury is here!




This night also yielded perhaps my favorite contrasting minute-apart photos.


Made all the better when one considers that Ed (on the right) is actually wearing a bucket hat a la The New Radicals. And it's beige. And it's corduroy.


Finger-cum + portable stool = 4am


OMFG maaaan, fucking **sToNe cIrCLe** at 6:30am maaaan...

I believe you're meant to find your true self here. I found a lot of people doing balloons.








And as the sun set on Sunday, so did my body into a sleeping bag, at a reasonable 2am to ensure a fresh start and peaceful journey home. Not everyone followed this train of thought believing instead that there was no reason to end the party, thus leading to a rather palid dispositon the following morning when it came time to pack up our tent at 8am:




I have no meaningful concluding phrase here. Sorry.

See you next year!

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