Saturday, 29 September 2007

Saturday 29/09/07

By the way, thanks a lot to Brenton at Aussilicious for doing this interview with me.

Friday, 28 September 2007

Friday 28/09/07

On Fridays at work I choose to dress down, which means that I can wear jeans and occasionally a t-shirt and this is a trend that quite a few people follow, even though it’s not official company policy. There are of course people who dress like tramps every day of the week, but we are not here to judge. Or concern ourselves with those losers.

This Friday though I’m going for dinner and to the theatre after work and I arrange to wear something that would also look alright there. And this something is a pair of Energie jeans, my H&M pink shirt (tucked in obviously), a Louis Vuitton belt that’s falling apart even though it’s not fake, a military style grey cardigan from Reiss and Gucci loafers. And here’s a picture of what this looks like which I take before I leave home.

Sorry about all the clothes chat, but I do like clothes a lot, even though not as much as some gays who work in fashion or read Arena Homme + or refer to Dolce & Gabbana as “Dolce” of course. I don’t really have an interest in fashion itself to be honest; I just think that I have an OK perception of what goes and what doesn’t.

Anyway, I wanted to dedicate the rest of this post to women. No wait, come back, we’re only gonna slag them off. Well some aspects of them only, I’m sure they’re really great otherwise.

Some gay men have lots of girlfriends. I have never really been able to do that. With 1-2 exceptions, I really don’t have any long term female friends. The main reason for this is that women just don’t like me or get me – both on a physical and an emotional level.

When I wasn’t aware of being gay yet and was trying to go out with girls, they just didn’t want to know. I think that when I get close to a woman, a chemical imbalance occurs and she becomes repulsed by me, because they really, really don’t fancy me.

On a sociable level, we just don’t have anything to talk about and they mostly don’t get my sense of humour. It’s not like I’m so bloody masculine and talk about cars and sport all the time – for God’s sake my chat does involve celebrities and clothes a lot, but somehow that’s still not enough. I think that even on those topics of conversation my manner is a mixture of self-deprecation, pessimism and sarcasm, which just doesn’t translate to the opposite gender (mostly).

I must stress – I am generalizing here, because the VERY occasional girl does come along that I get on with, but I’m certainly not at ease with having a group of fag hags or whatever you want to call them.

And now just to piss off the last few female readers of this blog (sorry), I will list a few examples of annoying habits I can think of.

- When you’re in a crowded bar and somebody’s trying to get through and they jab you in the ribs or burn you with their cigarette, I find that most of the time once you turn around and look it’s a girl. This is because girls think the world owes them and they can get away with anything. Also men tend to be more careful in situations like that, because they don’t want to appear aggressive or be abrupt involuntarily as this might lead to confrontation and possibly a fight. Girls are less concerned, because they think that we won’t hit them back. In my case, being near the average height for a Northern European girl I would like to think that it’s fairer for me to fight girls than boys, so I’m not sure this rule applies to me

- When I’m in the gym and waiting for the water fountain, it often happens that a girl will come and try to cut it, ignoring the queue that’s already there. This is because girls think that all men are stupid and their actions are controlled by their sexual desires, so once again, they can get away with anything in return for some mild flirtation / batting of their eyelashes / whatever it is that they do. So yes, in all honesty men ARE stupid and their actions are controlled by their sexual desires, but on this occasion I’m so glad I’m gay and therefore immune to their feminine charms

- Er…that’s all I can think of really. So yes, I guess I went off on one against all women because some broad nudged me in a club once and another one stole my turn at the water fountain

I have 1 song by Courtney Love and I’ve played it 44 times
I have 6 songs by Craig Armstrong and I’ve played them 56 times
I have 1 song by Craig David and I’ve played it 4 times

Thursday, 27 September 2007

Thursday 27/09/07

After immense pressure yesterday (well…one person asked), here’s a couple of pictures of what I was wearing at work as described in Wednesday’s post. These pictures are taken through the mirror in the toilets at work, around 1825 on Wednesday evening when I have lost the will to live and considering taking off my maroon Fred Perry cardigan, tying a knot and hanging myself from the lights on the ceiling. Also they are a bit rushed, because I didn’t want anyone to walk in and ask me what I’m doing taking pictures of myself in the toilets.

Anyway, after finally leaving work I go to the gym where I do a very quick workout (biceps, triceps, abs), as I’m running behind schedule and I have to get home (the TV won’t watch itself for 3 hours you know). On the tube home – listening to Let Me Know by Roisin Murphy on constant loop because I just downloaded it and I want to increase its play count so that it ends up in my Top 10 Most Played New Songs of 2007 – I realize that for the first time, the free newspaper is actually giving me some useful information apart from retarded letters from people who live in peripheral London and want to rant about something to break up their 2-hour commute back home.

And this information is: “Xmas ice rink for Hyde Park. London’s largest outdoor ice rink will open in Hyde Park this December. The rink is part of a “Winter Wonderland” being created in the park for Christmas. Other attractions include a toboggan slide, a German festive market and amusement rides. The site will open for five weeks from 1 December”.

This of course sounds great, even though I’m not sure this Winter Wonderland will include the reindeer London residents have been craving for. Regardless, I’m very much looking forward to the ice rink (even though I’ve never skated in my life), the toboggan slide (even though I don’t know what that is and I’m unable to google it at this moment), the German festive market (even though I’m not sure what Germany has to offer me personally in terms of festive treats) and the amusement rides (even though I never go on them because they upset my equilibrium and I get annoyed). But yes, definitely looking forward to this event.

At home it becomes apparent that the summer is most definitely over and I need to put the heating back on, but in order to do set the timer I need to go in this dark, spiderweb-ridden cellar type room outside the flat, but to be honest I’m too scared to do that this late in the evening (who knows who might jump out of there) plus I’ve just had a shower so I put it off until the weekend. In the meantime, I fill up my hot water bottle and sit on the couch with Family Guy / Desperate Housewives on.

Then my dad calls and I would love to screen him, but we haven’t spoken for days plus I might need him next year if I go back to school so I answer, and we discuss the possibility of me being a student again. He is actually very open-minded and encouraging about this, but it’s mainly because he suspects that if I were to do a paramedical degree potentially I could be making good money, and there is nothing that my dad values more than financial success.

My last activity before going to bed is to leave a response to Ace’s birthday invite on facebook. If you’re not familiar – having a facebook profile allows you to invite other friends who have a profile to any event you want to arrange. People then can accept / decline / state undecided. So on this instance, Ace has invited us to his birthday night out on 12 October.

Before copying my response here, this is the background: On my last birthday back in January I didn’t really want to have some huge party or a night out, I just wanted to spend it with my closest friends and boyfriend. So I invited the lads (Matty, Mean, Ace, Nats) and Scott. I just wanted to go and have a curry somewhere in Soho and chat or something. Matty and Nats were on holiday so they couldn’t make it. Mean and Scott came. Ace replied that it didn’t sound that great and he didn’t come. So this is what I wrote on his facebook now:

“xxx January 2007. London Preppy’s 27th birthday after having spent his 26th on a hospital bed the year before*. It’s a low key event and London Preppy just asks the lads if they want to come for a curry in Soho with him and Scott. Matty is away on holiday. Mean comes. Ace replies that he doesn’t really fancy that.12th October 2007. London Preppy doesn’t really fancy that.”

*I whip this out at every opportunity for dramatic effect.

Finally, here’s a picture of a gymnast that American Girl forwarded to me today to cheer me up.

I have 1 song by Cornershop and I’ve played it 7 times
I have 1 song by Corona and I’ve played it 0 times
I have 2 songs by Counting Crows and I’ve played them 45 times

Number of days since I submitted my new article to AXM and haven’t heard back yet even though I’ve also chased them with an additional email: 10

EDIT: I just sent another email (obviously I have nothing better to do) and this time I got a reply. We can freak out again later.

Wednesday, 26 September 2007

Wednesday 26/09/07

On Tuesday night I’m waiting for my delivery from Tesco and the time slot that I’ve been given is 2000 to 2200. So it’s now 2215 and it’s not there yet so I call Tesco and Tesco have no idea where the delivery guy is and they can’t get hold of him, so they give me a refund for my delivery charge, which is alright I suppose.

Then at 2240 the delivery guy arrives and apologises and then lets me know that there are a couple of substitutions. And the most hilarious one is when they try to give me a ready meal of chicken with dumplings instead of plain chicken breasts. Dumplings! And in an ideal world where I have no shame and I’m even more cynical and apathetic and a bastard (not unlike Patrick Bateman), I laugh and lift my shirt up and point at my abs and ask him when he thinks the last time I had fried complex carbohydrates is. But in real life I just say that no, I wouldn’t like the ready meal of chicken with dumplings replacement so I get a refund.

Then I put the shopping away listening to Mono by Courntey Love and Innocence by Bjork and Big on Japan by Alphaville and then I go to bed.

On Wednesday morning I wear some navy pinstripe trousers from the Gap and black leather Hugo Boss shoes and black H&M socks and a Hugo Boss belt and a white shirt with very thin brown stripes from Marks & Spencer with silver Gucci cufflinks and a Gucci watch and a maroon cardigan from Fred Perry and I go to work.

Work is very busy but I dare log on to gmail for 2 minutes at lunchtime in order to email AXM and ask them if they’ve received my article that I sent 9 days ago now, but by the time I’m writing this they still haven’t replied.

And here’s a list of things that I do every day invariably, and if I failed to do them it would really piss me off and it would really mess with my head:

- I do not get on the tube unless I get hold of Metro (the free newspaper), because I would not be able to handle the 10 minute tube journey to work without reading something. Because by the time I get to the tube station the newspapers have run out, getting hold of one involves a) looking through the bins around the station and/or b) getting on the train that goes the opposite direction first to look there, because it’s less busy and there are usually some papers left behind

- When I get in the office I turn on my PC and sit at my desk keeping an eye on the kitchen area. I only go to the kitchen and fill my 1.5lt bottle of water once everyone that’s making coffee / getting breakfast has left, because I don’t want to go near people and have to say good morning / make small chat

- During work, I eat / have snacks at the following times, with no fail: 1100, 1315, 1500, 1720. If I have meetings / other extremely urgent work to do at those times I move the meals just before I go in the meeting. If I fail to do that I will get hungry and I will not be very pleasant or productive in that meeting

- When I get home after the gym, there is a 10-minute period where nobody must talk to me. Well, that’s easier now that I live on my own, but even if Scott is there or we go home together or something, he knows to leave me alone. That’s because in those 10 minutes I prepare my gym bag for the next day, prepare my food for the next day and choose my clothes for the next day. If I don’t do these things I can’t chat or relax or watch TV or anything

- My light has to be off before 0000 every night if it’s a school night. And I have to have read for to least 5 minutes before the light goes off, because that gives me a sense of relaxing (even if it’s very rushed reading) and like everything is going according to plan and I have no stress. Of course nothing ever goes according to plan and I never have no stress, but this is an illusion I like to create for myself

- In bed I have to wear socks and a t-shirt and underpants and the t-shirt has to be tucked in the underpants, otherwise I can’t sleep and I don’t care how this looks or that I’m the guy who tucks his t-shirt in his underwear at night

I have 1 song by Corey Hart and I’ve played it 7 times
I have 2 songs by Corinne Bailey Ray and I’ve played them 4 times
I have 1 song by Cornelius and I’ve played it 5 times

Number of days since I sent my new article to AXM but haven’t heard back yet: 9

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

Tuesday 25/09/07

So the new middle name decision has been made and I’ve sent off the Deep Poll application. Thanks to everyone who voted, and I’m sorry to say that I didn’t go for the winning name (Mercer) but I did go for one that was in the top three. Now there’s a new poll up, asking what you like most about this blog – why you keep coming back. Well, if you keep coming back that is, because this might be your first time here and you never intend to return. Oh well.

On a not very relevant note, sorry I haven’t been extremely responsive recently if you’ve emailed or messaged me but I’m having some internet connectivity issues. At home because Tiscali is crap and I can’t wait to switch providers when my contract expires and at work because it turns out that I actually am one of the best performing employees, but sadly it’s only on internet usage. So I’m keeping a low profile at the moment.

Anyway, as you all know, on Monday Mean is back from his holiday in Canada and New York so he emails me an update of what he got up to. And what he got up to includes spilling a bottle of Coke on his bed and the people putting him up thinking he had pissed himself, getting more drunk than he has been for a very long time, some beautiful scenery or something (I’ve started to drift off by that point), going to a baseball game (just about here I’ve fallen asleep), going to the world’s biggest gym (becoming interested again) and seeing the best six-pack ever (wide awake again now).

Obviously my response to that is: “TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE SIX PACK YOU FOOL! Who was it on, what did they look like etc”

Mean says: “Put it this way. He was wearing a vest (not that tight) and you could clearly see it. He then pulled his vest up and I swear if I ran my hand over it I would cut myself”

I says: “How old was he? How tall? Was he white? Rest of the body?”

Mean says: “I'd say 30. 5'10". Sunbed tan. Rest of the body cut but he wasn't huge. Just well built and very defined. Was a revelation.”

So of course this ruins my day and I can’t focus on anything else anymore apart from an overwhelming desire to be that guy. Then it occurs to me that as recently as Sunday I wanted to be somebody else – more specifically this New Zealand rugby player called Nick Evans that I came across on the internet (during the 10 minutes that my connection wasn’t playing up at home).

So now obviously as any sane person would do, I will proceed to decide which of the two guys I want to be more and assess my chances of achieving that.

Six-pack Guy

- He has abs that you can cut your hand on (I have abs after I work out and if I don’t eat anything for 3 days)
- He has a fake tan (I haven’t been on a sunbed for months but I could easily go I suppose)
- He lives in New York (I’ve been there once 9 years ago)
- He was in the gym at 1400 on a Tuesday afternoon so he must be unemployed (I could easily achieve that by casually checking my gmail during work hours)

Nick Evans

- He was born on 14th August 1980, which makes him younger than me and this depresses me more (I was born earlier in 1980)
- He plays for the New Zealand All Blacks and he can currently be seen in the World Cup (I have never represented any teams in organized sport let alone a national team)
- He lives in New Zealand (I was in New Zealand for 2 days last year)
- He has a different kind of six-pack and general muscleness, which you can only achieve by playing sport and being really straight and active (I’m a gym queen and hate the outdoors)

So taking all this into consideration I suppose it’s easier for me to try and be the Six-pack guy, mainly because Nick Evans is talented and successful and sporty and I’m just not.

In any case, we can still obsess over Nick, so here are some pictures of him doing what he does best:

Catching a ball.

Being shirtless and jolly.

Being shirtless and pulling a face.

Strangling some guy.

Finally here’s a challenge for the readers. The six-pack guy was in Chelsea Piers gym in New York from around 1330 to 1430 last Tuesday (18th September). He was wearing a red vest. Does anyone go to this gym (or is aware of it)? Do you know who this guy might be? Come on people, according to Google Analytics New York is the second biggest city (after London) for reading this blog. Any information you can volunteer about the guy or the gym would be welcome.

I have 1 song by Collapsed Lung and I’ve played it 4 times
I have 1 song by Color Me Badd and I’ve played it 0 times
I have 1 song by the Coral and I’ve played it 14 times

Number of days since I submitted my new article to AXM and haven’t heard back: 8

Monday, 24 September 2007

Monday 24/09/07

On Saturday afternoon (after spending all morning lying on the sofa and watching TV and reading stuff) I meet Scott and we go to the gym where we do chest and then we go to Borough market, which is an outdoor food market.

After my experience at Vauxhall market a couple of weeks ago – where I had a panic attack and nearly passed out because it was so hideous – I come prepared carrying some Valium in my wallet. But I needn’t have worried about that, because Borough market is a completely different beast to be honest, and everyone who goes there is of a decent demographic and I’m sure they have OK jobs and enough money to buy ostrich eggs and boxes of raspberry & chocolate truffles and small expensive bottles of chili-flavoured olive oil.

I walk away with a jar of red grapefruit marmalade and a jar of strawberry & vanilla royale jam. I don’t know what the difference between jam or marmalade or conserve is, I’m just typing what I see on the label.

In the evening Scott and I go to Brendan’s house party briefly but we can’t stay very long because we have to go to this club later and play with some people there. Let me point out that we are NOT going clubbing, as I said recently I don’t really feel like going clubbing until Christmas at least, but on this occasion we have to be there for a couple of hours for reasons I don’t care to go into now.

So we get to the club (Matinee at Area) around 2300 and we mostly hang out in the staff area upstairs and play with the promoter who’s our friend (Tyler), the drag queen who’s actually very cool and we like a lot (Heidi Licious) and a large number of dancers who we don’t really chat to much, because a) they don’t speak any English as they’re all Spanish or Brazilian and b) they’re too busy oiling their muscles up and squeezing into tiny shorts anyway.

And while I’m there I’m thinking that there is a large number of people who would probably pay money to observe this spectacle at such close proximity (i.e. 6-8 insanely muscled Latin guys getting changed quite publicly, getting greased up and doing exercises to pump their bodies up in preparation for 20 minutes on the club podium), but I’m immune to the charms of this kind of person so I’m, thankfully, unaffected. I regret not taking pictures actually so I could show you, but at the time I had other things on my mind.

In any case, we only stay until about 0130 and then we’re off home leaving all this fun behind. At that time the club is more or less filling up and there’s still a big queue outside and everyone has about 5-6 hours ahead of them of getting half-naked and dancing and making frequent trips to the toilet and sweating and passing out but I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. Definitely not because I’m looking down on all these things and I think I’m so much better (that would be really hypocritical – these ARE some of my favourite activities after all), but because right now I want to have a break.

And finally, here’s a picture of poster for the Cage Rage Fighting Championship (that world famous event) which I see on Saturday near Borough market. And I would love to have gone and watch that if I had known about it earlier, because I may find gym-fit oiled up go-go dancers in gay clubs quite repulsive, but I can’t think of anything sexier than watching a few muscled, straight guys with attitude problems kicking the shit out of each other.

I have 2 songs by the Cocteau Twins and I've played them 99 times
I have 1 song by Coldcut and I've played it 22 times
I have 9 songs by Coldplay and I've played them 66

Number of days since I've sent the new article to AXM and haven't heard back: 7

Friday, 21 September 2007

Friday 21/09/07

So here’s a video that I’ve quite shamelessly stolen from another blog (I Drink At Work), but it impressed me no end and I couldn’t help myself from sharing it and ranting about it a bit. It’s taken from a TV programme here in the UK and it shows us what members of the Sandbach rugby team do to entertain themselves on a night out (and also in the showers / changing rooms before the night out). I don’t know where “Sandbach” is and I don’t care, but from their accents I can guess it’s nowhere near where I want to be.

The obvious reaction for a gay guy watching this is to think, oh my God they are so fit and sexy and all this straight boy laddishness is turning me on and phwoar wouldn’t I want to be in those communal showers etc.

You could also comment on the homosexual undertones of their interaction (in some cases overtones actually – particularly at the moment when they are mutually wanking each other), but I don’t really want to play that gay game, where we have to suspect every straight man as being gay. Some people are straight and that’s the end of it, you know? They are drunken rugby playing lads, this is what drunken rugby playing lads do.

Anyway, what I’m most impressed by is the sheer confidence they handle themselves with. These people do not have any insecurities, they don’t stay up all night thinking about a negative comment their boss made to them and they certainly don’t need 15mg of Valium to get a good night’s sleep.

The Alpha Male of this Alpha Male group is Tim. Throughout the video everyone is talking about Tim, comparing themselves to Tim and wanking Tim (both literally and metaphorically). We are told a lot about Tim’s “massive member” and we also get to see it a lot.

Please look at Tim walking out of the shower around the 15 second mark and see how he’s strutting in full-blown confidence in all his naked glory. Just look at the walk he walks, it’s amazing. It really doesn’t matter that he can’t spell “self-doubt”, because he will never ever need to use these words.

This is the guy that I would like to be ideally. But I guess tortured, bitter and alone is also good.

Click here to see the video

Anyway, let’s turn to the people who write in to the rubbish free London papers now and see what they’ve had to say over the last couple of weeks.

Chris from Islington tells us: “Shop workers aren’t snotty – we just have to put up with one arrogant customer after another, without biting our lips so hard we draw blood!”

I tell Chris: Ooh! Get you Chris! You’re a bit dramatic, aren’t you babes? Calm down dear, you’ll get wrinkles. Now go back to folding that scarf.

Andrea McLean from SW17 tells us: “Tradesmen rock! You guys were the only ones that gave up their seats when I was pregnant”

I tell Andrea McLean from SW17: Yes Andrea, all tradesmen have generous, giving souls, all office workers are sinister and evil, all hookers have kind, golden hearts and you live in a bloody Charles Dickens novel from 1843.

“Rah” from Farrington EC1 tell us: “Why do people who get seats first on a crowded train always fight those that stand the whole way to get off first?”

I tell “Rah” from Farrington EC1: “Rah”. Put that spliff down, turn off Bob Marley on your cassette player and you might get somewhere faster too.

Sarah from Essex tells us: “Mentally prepared to go to the gym and someone on train eating chips. Bugger”

I tell Sarah from Essex: Sarah. I’m not one to judge (shut up) but you sound fat. Tomorrow: Sarah is mentally prepared to go for a swim and changes her mind after spotting someone drinking a pint. The day after: Sarah is mentally prepared to run the marathon and pulls out after stepping on a chicken nugget by mistake. Get off your arse!

White Laura from London tells us: “Have other women noticed a recent upsurge in white men barging into them or shouldering them aside in central London?”

I tell White Laura from London: God, aren’t people weird. Who knows what race issues Laura has to motivate her to write in a newspaper with a rant and mention skin colour twice in 22 words. Alright love we get it – you got your revenge on Dad by getting knocked up by that black guy from school when you were 17. No one else cares.

“And” from E17 tells us: “To the lady who ran after me with my scarf and gent who got off the last train at Blackhorse Road to return my phone – thank you. Who says Londoners are nasty?”

I tell “And” (what is it with these stupid names?) from E17: Firstly stop dropping your shit around London hoping strangers will come and talk to you. Secondly, I wouldn’t be so happy love, you live in Walthamstow. You’ll probably get stabbed for your phone once you get off the train.

Helena from North London tells us about Kate Moss and her dress: “I was angry at the wanton destruction of that poor dress. When charities are appealing for clothes to send to Africa, it is unsettling that someone rich enough to wear something so beautiful should care so little about it”

I tell Helena from North London: Dear Birkenstock lesbian. You’re right. We should strip Kate Moss naked and send her dress to Africa for people to eat. You’ve solved all of the planet’s problems. And you thought all that you would achieve today was that tasty leek and beetroot soup you made for lunch.

Oh yeah and here's another shirtless picture, as I'm sure there's a greater interest in abs for the average person than reading all this above.

I have 5 songs by Client and I’ve played them 19 times

I have 2 songs by Clor and I’ve played it 4 times

I have 1 song by Club 69 and I’ve played it 0 times

Number of days since I submitted my new article to AXM and haven't heard back: 4

Thursday, 20 September 2007

Thursday 20/09/07

As we all know I go to this gym in London that’s a chain, and they have 50 different sites or something, and I can go to whichever one I likes. And there are 3 gyms that I go to now plus 1 that I haven’t been to for over a year but I used to go every day. And these gyms are:

Gym A: The one I go to almost every weekday after work. It’s near work and not too gay and bigger than most of the others

Gym B: The one I go to occasionally because Scott works there, but I don’t particularly like it because it’s very small and boring

Gym C: The one I go to on some Fridays because some of my friends go there and it’s quite gay and not too big

Gym D: The one I used to go to every day which is very, very gay and quite big, and I will only go there again if I become single, desperate and decide that I like the interaction with international rentboys and destroyed scene queens

Now let me tell you about 2 different guys that I see in the gym occasionally and how they both don’t want to have anything to do with me, but one of them is nice about it and the other not.

Guy 1. Let’s call him Thomas. I see Thomas very occasionally in Gym A (my regular gym). I have never seen him out in a club. This is what we know about Thomas:

a) He has very big boobs and is very sexy
b) He has lots of tattoos, which I don’t usually like but I’m willing to overlook
c) He is generally very big and muscly, but at the same time soft – not steroid muscly. I haven’t touched him to confirm the softness but he looks soft
d) So his body looks a bit similar to mine, in terms of having round droopy boobs and big round arms but soft and fleshy, not really hard and steroidy. Mind you he’s a lot taller and bigger than me (like everyone)
e) He wears white trainers that have the green and red Gucci stripes on the side, but they’re not actually from Gucci. I know this because I looked at them one time when he was in the shower and he had left them there. I actually think it’s sweet how he wears mock-Gucci trainers. And they’re not blatantly fake either – I told you, I had to check to confirm, so that’s OK
f) He was at a house party I went to a couple of months ago and as I was surrounded by friends and feeling confident, I also asked him where he’s from, so we also know that…
g) He’s German
h) He obviously has no interest in talking to me, because if he did, he could take the opportunity after meeting me at the party and say hi in the gym, but he doesn’t
i) Also, he wouldn’t run out of the changing rooms every time we’re close to each other looking really embarrassed for fear that I’ll chat to him

Guy 2. Let’s call him Rashad. I see Rashad very occasionally in Gym C (on Fridays) and I used to see him a lot in Gym D when I went there. This is what we know about Rashad:

a) He is sexy in a different way.
b) He is quite dark and I imagine hairy, but I think he shaves his chest. He has permanent stubble and looks like he could be mixed race (Caucasian and Arabic?)
c) He always wears loose tracksuit bottoms that hang halfway down his arse, as this is his best feature and he wants to show it off
d) His body varies between very good (when he’s on a cycle of steroids) and just above average (when he’s off)
e) I often see him out in clubs, usually wearing jeans that hang half halfway down his arse (OK, we get it)
f) He’s English (I think)
g) The interaction I’ve had with him is asking about some exercise he was doing in the gym and also walking up to him in a club and saying hi, we go to the same gym, right?
h) He obviously has no interest in talking to me, because if he did, he wouldn’t pretend he doesn’t know who I am every time I say hi to him even if we’ve met each other at least 25 times now
i) Also, he wouldn’t turn to his friends and shrug his shoulders after I spoke to him in the club like I was some lecherous ugly guy trying to pick him up

So now that everyone in London knows who I’m talking about and these two guys can come and beat me up, let me say that I wrote this because, fine, both of them don’t like me and it’s obvious, but they have such different ways of making it known.

Thomas is nice and when I’ve spoken to him he was polite and cordial and he didn’t make me feel like I was stepping way out of line by saying hi. Rashad is less nice and when I’ve spoken to him he’s given me the impression that he was keeping one hand on the Mace spray in his back pocket and that I should have applied for a written permission from Buckingham Palace to speak to him first.

And I much prefer fake politeness than explicit rudeness, which is also what I try to practice, and if I’ve ever pulled a Rashad on you, I’m sorry.

EDIT: I need to make my self clear, because I've started getting comments from people. I don't want to talk to people in the gym. I want to be left alone too. If I wanted to chat I'd go to the gay gym where I know everyone and it would be more like going clubbing and less like training. I am comparing those two guys when I see them OUTSIDE the gym. Their general attitude. Not how they behave in the gym.

I have 2 songs by The Clash and I’ve played them 7 times
I have 1 song by Clayhill and I’ve played it 4 times
I have 1 song by Cleptomaniacs and I’ve played it 3 times

Number of days since I submitted my new article to AXM and haven't heard back: 3

Wednesday, 19 September 2007

Wednesday 19/09/07

So I’m chatting to Donnell and we’re discussing the possibility of me going back to school next year and I mention that if that happens I won’t be able to afford my flat and I will probably have to move to Zone 2 and Donnell asks me whether I’ll bleed if that happens, which I suppose is true and I will.

Then considering different ideas of how I can finance myself now that prostitution and exhibitionism are out of the window, I consider featured paid adverts on the blog. You know, just on the sidebar, not in the text / what I write. Even though to be honest I would be very happy to go on about how fucking great Krispy Kreme doughnuts are on a daily basis if they paid me to do it. But don’t think I have any standards, damn it I would even sing the praises of Abercrombie & Fitch if they gave me money (I was trying to find a brand I truly hate and this is the best I could come up with, not that I’m bitter or anything)

Anyway, moving back to more realistic targets, I have seen several blogs with ads on the sidebar. Does anyone know how I could do that / whom I need to contact / what I need to tell them? Let me know if you can.

I spend a significant amount of Tuesday looking at the website with preppy names that I wrote about yesterday.

I mentioned that I couldn’t possibly change my name again, because people will think I’ve got a screw loose. Or I’m running away from something. Both of these statements are true of course, but we don’t want everyone to realize that immediately.

Then I come up with the ingenious idea that I should at least adopt a middle name. At the moment I don’t have one. Then I come up with the even more ingenious idea to adopt two middle names – why stop at one? This is where you come in.

I have decided on one of my middle names and I need your help to decide on the other one. Unfortunately I can’t tell you my first name or my surname or the middle name that I’ve decided on, so you’ll just have to base your decision on personal preference and not on what actually goes with the rest. I could tell you I suppose that my first name is a very Greek, quite posh name that has 12 letters (the 4-letter name people call me by is an abbreviation of that). My other middle name has 5 letters and my surname is Welsh.

So really, go with whatever you want, you can’t really make it worse.

I have narrowed it down to a shortlist of 6 and you can vote in the poll on the right. The names are:


Here are some criteria that might help you choose:

1) I would like my middle name to sound American if possible
2) I would like my middle name to make me sound unconventional yet established
3) I would like my middle name to make me sound generally balanced but with impulsive streaks here and there
4) I would like my middle name to go with my face

I can’t show you my face now, so here is my face when I was 3 years old.

Finally, this is a story that a friend of Scott’s made up, describing what somebody with my full 4-word name might sound like - apart from crazy (I think the impression remains the same no matter what we decide my other middle name to be):

“XXXXXXXXXXXX was the orphaned son of a Greek shipping tycoon who was murdered by his evil twin brother in an attempt to take the empire. XXXXXXXXXXXX was adopted by an upper class Welsh dynasty whose fortune was made in mining before Thatcher closed the unions down. He now finds his destiny caught up on a whirlwind of upstairs / downstairs sexual politics”

We like that a lot. Oh and finally, I know everyone will have different ideas, but please do not make any more suggestions about names, you will only confuse me further and my head will explode – it took me about 13 hours to come up with the shortlist.

I have 2 songs by Chumbawamba and I've played them 14 times
I have 1 songs by City High and I've played it 3 times
I have 1 song by CJ Bolland and I've played it 46 times

Number of days since I submitted my new article to AXM and haven't heard back: 2

Tuesday, 18 September 2007

Tuesday 18/09/07

So whoring myself on a website for a few dollars has proved quite an unpopular idea amongst friends and other acquaintances. Every time I come up with a plan or an obsession to do something (approximately every other day) I get really excited and enthusiastic and I can’t think very clearly. This is why I have to ask people who I trust what they think, and consider their opinions.

This is also necessary because, having no self-respect, I have a much faltered sense of morality; what is decent and what’s not. A faltered sense of morality regarding my own actions only of course, as I’m very good at judging other people, no problem.

So here’s what different people think about the idea in my post yesterday.

Matty says: “Think of the economics. In order to buy that £400 coat / suitcase / belt / rowing machine / bowler hat, you’d have to spend nearly 7 hours prancing around naked. Instead you could be watching Family Guy. You do the math. Oh and it’ll be around and potentially hanging over your head for the rest of your life”

I says: But what if I did this full time Matty, hmm? £60 per hour x 7 hours a day x 5 days a week x 52 weeks in a year = £109,200 annual income

Andrews says: “It’s prob not the best scheme ever! If you have second thoughts about modeling and your rent boy career didn’t exactly work this is prob not a good idea!”

I says: I would just like to point out that I’ve never embarked on a rent boy career and I don’t know what Andrews is talking about

Donnell says: “I would say defo don’t. The money isn’t worth it. It could come back and haunt you”.

Orville says: “Is this website thing a really good idea dude? It might be a quick buck, but your blog has been a bit downbeat recently and I dunno if this is the kind of thing that's gonna have you back in love with life.....”

Somebody else whose name I won’t mention sends me two long emails analyzing over 1,148 words why I shouldn’t do it and telling me that I will ruin my life and I should resist from pressing my self-destruct button.

Reading this makes me draw parallels between me and Britney Spears, which extend further than both of us shaving our heads after a particularly tough time (Britney after a messy divorce and parenting issues this year and me after 4 months of paralysis last year) and I decided that maybe I should put an end to my personal meltdown before I take to the MTV stage completely zoned out wearing my underwear and stumbling my way through a not-particularly-demanding routine.

Even though I have to say that I do love the part of Britney’s performance where Britney waves her right hand in front of her face during some instrumental bit, like she’s “cooling herself down” and then extends her arm to the right and then to the left.

So anyway, I guess the decision is to refrain from the online nudity and I will just have to find alternative ways to fund any further study. (Which also reminds me thanks very, very much to those who have contributed to the College Fund so far).

Then for the rest of Monday evening I go on this website here that has a list of preppy names you can give to your baby and I like it so much that I can’t describe. I would try to make a shortlist of the top 10 names I like the most maybe but it’s really impossible, I like most of them.

And if I hadn’t changed my name 4 times already (my surname once officially and my first name three times but just using different variations of the name I was born with and demanding that people forget the previous ones), I would be tempted to choose another first name from that list. But now it might be a bit insane.

I have 1 song by Chris Isaak and I've played it 56 times
I have 5 songs by Christina Aguilera and I've played them 19 times
I have 1 song by the Chromatics and I've played it 17 times

Number of days since I submitted my new article to AXM and haven't heard back: 1

Monday, 17 September 2007

Monday 17/09/07

to meet in Soho Square at 1330, but obviously as it is Sunday and I’m already counting down the hours until Monday morning I don’t want to go anywhere. In any case, I decide to stop being completely anti-sociable and go hang out for a bit.

So Scott, Donnell, Brendan, Spunky, Simon and a few others sit on towels and drink and take horse tranquilizer and discuss several topics which, I’m not sure but I think, include music, love and cars and drugs and ponies, but then again these maybe lyrics from a song instead and my memory is playing tricks on me. What I do remember is that I don’t really participate in all this – instead I want to be at home writing.

Then I do go home and I actually manage to finish another article I’ve been working on for AXM on a different topic (Fantasy vs Reality), which will supposedly be used in the December issue, but we’ll believe that when we see it, right? In any case I email it to the editor well ahead of the 1st October deadline that I’ve been given. I will let you know when it’s the 2nd of December and I haven’t heard back anything and I completely give up on my writing career.

Then I stay online and decide to do my weekly shopping on the Tesco website instead of going to the shop and carrying all these bags back. In theory this should be very convenient for me, as I always buy the same things in the same quantities week in, week out with no fail, so I don’t really need the real life selection process.

However, I’ve been warned that Tesco like to create additional interest in your life by randomly replacing items on your shopping list which are unavailable, with what they think is the closest match. So for example they will send you double-cream instead of soya milk (both in a carton) or cans of Coka Cola instead of tomatoes (both red).

All I know is that if they dare make any jokes and replace my two tubs of Chocolate Fudge Brownie Ben & Jerry ice cream with a “similar” different flavour (Vanilla? Caramel Chew Chew?) I will take the three smoked mackerels I’ve ordered and smear them on the delivery guy’s head. I will let you know after tonight’s “2000 to 2200 timeslot” delivery.

On Sunday night I also reconsider an alternative income source option I had come up with months ago. Using my webcam, my hands and a complete lack of clothes to make some extra cash. This time though I go one step further and research websites where you can set this up, potential earnings and what I actually have to do to get involved in this growing and in no-way-sleazy community.

I find the most promising website (one that doesn’t look like it’s operated from the back of a Skoda parked in the main square in Kiev) and having lost any self-respect I ever had, I fill in the online application and get this automated response back:

“Thank you for completing the online application to broadcast on ourlive chat network. Your application has been sent to our Broadcasting Department and will be reviewed in the order it was received.

Your application # is: [edit]

Please send an email to: [edit]
with a subject of "STUDIO APPLICATION # [edit]" and
include at least one clear headshot and one soft-core photo of yourself
or your performer(s).

Please make sure you have access to a scanner, a printer, broadband internet
connection, a PC or laptop, a PC mic and a USB webcam or a camcorder.
If you have any questions about your application, please don't hesitate to
contact myself or anyone on the Broadcasting Department Team at any time.

Broadcaster Manager”

I immediately email back and forward at least one clear headshot and one soft-core photo of myself (or 5) and wait to hear back.

I have 7 songs by Chicks On Speed and I've played them 56 times
I have 3 songs by Chocolate Puma and I've played them 2 times
I have 1 song by Chris Brown and I've played it 2 times

Sunday, 16 September 2007

Sunday 16/09/07

I try not care about anything in my life, because a) nothing really matters and b) nothing can hurt you that way. A few things do slip through occasionally though even if I try not to admit it. One of those things is obviously Bret Easton Ellis, but the themes that Bret Easton Ellis writes about and I care for, are moral decline and emotional absence, so I think they cancel each other out. How can I care strongly about not caring, right?

In any case, another thing that I used to care about a lot (to the point of obsession) was music. I don’t remember doing anything else from the ages of 13 to 21 apart from listen to music. I still listen to music a lot of course, but I find it hard to really connect with anything that has been released since I became emotionally bankrupt.

I became emotionally bankrupt in mid-2005 so any songs that have come out since then, I find hard to care about. So to sum up:

1993 to 2001: I obsessed about music. I would challenge anyone to compete against me on music knowledge for those years. It’s the only thing I have full on confidence in in my life.

2001 to 2005: I liked music a lot but had grown out of it a bit. I still bought and loved lots of records and went to lots of gigs, but it wasn’t the main reason for my existence.

2005 onwards: Having become devoid of feeling I still listen to music a lot but I don’t get most of it

So I wanted to come up with a short list of bands that I really, really loved back when I wasn’t relentlessly hollow and see if anyone who reads this can identify. Obviously the genre I’m talking about is British indie / alternative, so forgive me if this doesn’t mean much to a lot of you and it’s a bit self indulgent. I will leave out the obvious “well known” offenders (like The Smiths, Suede) and just focus on a few, not very successful bands that may have been forgotten by now. Not by me though.

6. Echobelly
5. Geneva
4. Elastica
3. Longpigs
2. Menswear
1. Gene

If you have records by these bands, please be my friend. And, additionally, this is a long shot, but if you know and love the following 2 songs, please marry me: “Homeboy” by Adorable and “Atta girl” by Heavenly.

Now I would like to pay tribute to one of the readers of the blog. This reader leaves comments under the name Travis.

Travis must be relatively new to this blog, as he has only been commenting in the last 10 days or so. He has a lot of opinions, but sadly nobody wants to hear them. This is because Travis is unique, in the sense that he combines absolute and utter ignorance about everything (it’s scary really) with a nasty bitchiness. Think of a dumb Joan Rivers.

But don’t let me try to convince you. Let’s go through and analyse all the comments he has left so far so you can make up your own mind.

On Monday the 3rd of September I posted a picture of a fit guy and said that he’s 34 times hotter than me.

Travis said: “40 times better. Your nipples are way too big.”

Assessment: At this point this can be taken as a humorous comment. I take the piss out of people so I can expect it back. The nipples comment is a bit disconcerting, mainly because I can’t imagine myself going on someone’s blog and starting a conversation on the size of their nipples or the length of their toes or something, but anyway

On Wednesday the 12th of September I wrote that plumbers only make £25,000 a year, so I probably wouldn’t want to leave my current job and do that.

Travis said: “You are only 27 and making over $50,000? What are you crying about?”

Assessment: Once again, on its own, this isn’t an offensive comment. It does give us some insight into Travis though. Saying that I’m “only 27” must mean that he’s a lot older than me. Converting the currency into dollars must mean he’s American. Thinking that an income of £25,000/$50,000 is exceptional must mean he lives in a trailer park.

On Thursday the 13th of September I wrote about going back to University to study Osteopathy.

Travis said: “After the 4 years of college then there is 2 to 6 years of residency. Become a plumber. Think of all the bathrooms you will see. Why don't you have any body hair?”

Assessment: Travis’ good-hearted nature comes through once again. I imagine he lost his job with the American version of the Samaritans (a charity that people call when they’re feeling suicidal, etc) after 2 days, as he was pushing people over the edge, including those who had just got the wrong number.

Furthermore, the obsessive assessment of my body is starting to really kick in now, focusing on hair. It must be unheard of to have a naturally smooth chest in Travis’ trailer park

On Saturday the 15th of September I wrote something about massaging people when I’m an Osteopath. I also posted a picture of myself wearing a rugby top.

Travis said: “Being an Osteopath does not mean you will be doing massages. Your body looks way out of proportion.”

Assessment: Graduate careers website Prospects tells us that one of an Osteopath’s typical work activities is “facilitating the body's ability to heal itself through stretching, massage, deep massage and gentle manipulation”. Travis, however, begs to differ. They’re not gonna tell him what to do! If he wants to be an Osteopath who just sits there and stares at people, that’s what he will do.

With regard to the body comment (and the continuing obsession with my appearance), I’m a little confused. What does my body look “way out of proportion” with? The train in front of me? The tracks? The shining lights? I presume that Travis wants to say that my shoulders are out of proportion with my waist or something. Admittedly Travis, yes I do have a wide 42-inch chest and a slim 30-inch waist and a nice curvy bum. The whole universe for the last 2,500 years has led me to believe that this is a good body shape for a man. I guess it’s Travis against the world again, believing that men should have narrow shoulders, a big fat belly and no arse.

Anyway, I just thought I’d write this and put the end to it. As I’ve said before when I don’t like something I cut it out, so I’m afraid I won’t be publishing any more Travis comments (entertaining as they are). Travis, please don’t comment anymore as I won’t even read anything that arrives under that name – I will just delete it immediately.

If any of the other readers want to interact with Travis and find out what job he does that gives him such infinite knowledge on everything or receive pictures of his fantastic in-proportion, hairy, regular-size-nippled body, please leave a comment with your email address and I’m sure Travis will be in touch.

Also if Travis sets up a new name and continues to comment, I will not publish those comments either, it really won’t be too hard to spot that inimitable, completely unknowledgeable bitchy style.

Sorry if people think this is a cop out, but this is my blog and I’m the King of it and I’ll do what I likes innit.

I have 2 songs by Chic and I’ve played them 19 times
I have 2 songs by Chicago and I’ve played them 83 times
I have 4 songs by Chicane and I’ve played them 170 times

Saturday, 15 September 2007

Saturday 15/09/07

And on Friday we don’t have to go in the office, instead it’s the annual sports day. The term “sports” is used very loosely of course, because you can’t really have 60 people aged 23 to 60 (I’m guessing) compete against each other in running or climbing or arm wrestling, it’s just not going to work. I’d beat them all. So the activities are a bit more novel. We are put in teams of 6 and here is what we have to do:

1) Build a wooden chariot. This activity is obviously designed to promote teamwork. So I sit back, don’t talk to anyone and watch the others put it together

2) Race some battered car around a track and do handbreak turns. Admittedly this is quite fun even though I haven’t really driven for about 8 years. Maybe this helps

3) Participate in goose herding. I.e. stand in a field, be chased by 3 geese and a dog and shout instructions at them. I am not very at ease with nature, or animals, or shouting, so I try to avoid the instructor’s eyes when he’s choosing participants. It works

4) Play with some hawks. This involves wearing a big leather glove that the instructor puts pieces of raw chicken on, turning your head, and waiting for a large predatory bird to land on your arm. Then walking around with the bird in tow until it decides to fly back to its perch

5) Race some hover crafts. This actually sucks, and not just because I can’t control them
So not a bad day at work then and we also get to travel to this nice mansion in the countryside and have lots of free food. And here is the mansion:

Then in the evening I meet Donnell and we go to Bryan’s house party. Scott is already there and so are Brendan and Simon and some others. For this event I choose to wear low hanging shorts and an England rugby top. At some point somebody walks in and asks me if I want to know what the rugby score is. It turns out that England are playing South Africa that night. What are the chances eh? I tell the guy that I have no interest in rugby whatsoever and I’m just wearing a top.

This top is very nice and it’s the actual top the England team wears. It’s extremely tight (to stop opponents from grabbing it and tackling you) and made of this really odd, waterproof material and I generally like wearing it a lot despite it making me look a bit weird with really wide shoulders and a narrow waist.

Here are some pictures of me in the top at a tube station (where the top doesn’t belong) and then Mike Tindall, Ben Cohen and Josh Lewsey in the top at its natural habitat, looking like real men.

Finally, thanks for the comments and answers about what I posted the other day (going back to study). I’m still thinking about that a lot and sometimes I really want to go and do it and other times I’m too scared and I think it’s too much to go ahead with and I’d rather stay where I am now.

But I’m looking into it and if I do decide to do it I will join a course in September 2008. In the meantime I will have to try and save lots of money (if I’m gonna be a student again for 4 years, not to mention to pay for it to start with – it costs between £3,000-£4,000. But at least I have a £1 contribution from one reader so far, which is obviously going towards that J So, thank you M.

And if anyone else wants to help, as I said feel free (link to the right); I know I’m sounding like a tramp asking for your spare change, but the main thing stopping me is the lack of funding and the fear of living in poverty for 4 years, and at the end of the day, I never said I had any pride (go back and check through the blog, it’s true).

Any large contributions will be rewarded with a free massage when I’ve learnt how to do it. 7,295 absolute unique visitors so far according to Google Analytics – surely there must be somebody out there who’s extremely loaded and generous. Or pitiful. I’ll take either.

I have 1 song by Charles & Eddie and I’ve played it 24 times
I have 20 songs by the Chemical Brothers and I’ve played them 128 times
I have 7 songs by Cher and I’ve played them 37 times

Tuesday, 11 September 2007

Tuesday 11/09/07

I take the tube back home and I’m reading one of the crappy free newspapers and I see that they have an interview with Martin Johnson. I don’t expect you to know who Martin Johnson is, so let me tell you that he’s an England rugby player that used to be in the team that won England the Rugby World Cup four years ago by fluke (just like Greece won Euro 2004, but I should stop talking about sport because I’ve lost all of you by now I’m sure), and now he’s retired.

And here’s a picture of Martin Johnson.

So I read the Martin Johnson interview not because he’s hot or because I have an interest in him (he’s not and I don’t), but because who knows, he might mention Josh Lewsey or Ben Cohen or something. And as I read I realize how full of clichés it is and how it’s difficult to believe anything that he actually says.

Just like every sportsman in the history of the world ever being interviewed, he tries to go for a clean cut/masculine/I hang out with the lads but I take my job very seriously/I better not say anything controversial because kids look up to me-type of image. So they all come across boring as fuck and a bit thick.

So Martin Johnson lets us know that:

- he prefers nights in to nights out
- he likes beer and wine but it’s a cup of tea most of the time
- he’s a big steak and chips man but he loves his fruit and veg too
- he listens to rock music from 1982
- he travels on public transport just like the rest of us

As I read this I get a bit nauseous from al the testosterone surrounding Martin, but then I think that maybe I’m being a bit harsh and it’s actually very difficult to be honest or interesting or controversial in any kind of interview.

And I go back home and look at the interview I gave to AXM in the September issue and I realize I must also come across as full of shit and completely insincere, and trying to live up to an image.

Martin Johnson wants to be the only 6’7”, 119kg (262lbs) rugby player in the world who likes to stay at home in the evenings knitting and I want to be the only naked, seemingly amoral ripped guy on a magazine cover who’s very introverted.

But then I read my interview more carefully and it occurs to me that actually everything I say is true and I’m not comfortable with the idea of being there naked and yes, I am quite shy and I don’t like to have my clothes off and I don’t even stand naked in the changing room in the gym, instead I dry myself and put on my underwear in the shower cubicle and then walk back and wear the rest of my clothes.

So maybe Martin Johnson is being honest too and he does prefer a cup of tea to 16 pints of lager and I’m just being a judgmental twat.

And here are a couple more pictures of Ben Cohen and Josh Lewsey so that we don’t forget that some people should never be shy and are better off permanently naked.

I have 1 song by Cars and I’ve played it 68 times
I have 5 songs by Carter USM and I’ve played them 22 times
I have 7 songs by Cassius and I’ve played them 45 times

Sunday, 9 September 2007

Sunday 09/09/07

On Friday I finish work and I go to the gym where I do shoulders and Scott and Donnell are also there, but they’re doing some thing else (back? chest? cruising?) so who cares about these guys – not me. Then obviously I finish from the gym and I’m ready for my jog back home, which is the most exciting part of the day. And I get to the park I jogged through last time and I press play on my iPod and start listening to Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benetar, followed by This charming man by The Smiths followed by some Amy Winehouse and then I’m at home, tired and content.

Unfortunately that evening Donnell wants to go out and play in Soho, and even though I would much rather stay in and play with myself watching Desperate Housewives, I agree to go. The only motivation I have to go is that I get the opportunity to try on my new white clueless straight boy underwear with very low hanging shorts. And this is a picture that Donnell insists on taking because he think that I look ridiculous in the, but what does he know hmm?

So Donnell drags me to the Box for drinks (= water for me obviously). I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Box, but it’s the only bar in London that’s acceptable by the gym-obsessed gays who usually go clubbing – ‘m not sure why. It’s also very, very small (the name says it all really), so basically imagine 300 muscle Marys trapped in a Rubik’s cube.

I feel particularly uncomfortable in the Box, because you are always surrounded by acquaintances you half-know from clubbing and you have to chat to them, but I actually have no small talk whatsoever, so I get really nervous. Anyway, after a couple of hours of me standing there looking at my feet (it also helps that everyone is always taller then me and eye contact is easily avoided because I’m on a different level), I am free to go home.

When I get home, my low hanging shorts have dropped a few more inches from walking around and when I look in the mirror I am faced with the sight in the picture below. Amazingly, even though my arse is hanging out completely now they are still staying up, but I think the only resistance they are finding against gravity is from my willy at the front. Regardless though, I still maintain this is a good look.

On Saturday I spend the day with Scott and we go for walks around where he lives, which involve:

- Buying a 2-litre ice cream tub from Marks & Spencer’s and eating it all with plastic spoons whilst walking around

- Going to an antique shop where I see a set of old lockers which I would really like to buy (picture below), but they cost £575 and I think I should actually buy a nice flat first before I start spending money on expensive furniture

- Picking up my mobile phone which is now fixed after I broke it by dropping it on the floor 4 times last time I was out clubbing for reasons I don’t care to go into right now

In the evening I meet Matty and Mean and Nicole and they take me to a pub in East London, so obviously this is completely nerve-wracking and unacceptable, and after I finish my glass of water I am very ready to take the tube and go back to the safety of a W postcode (= West London).

Sunday is spent walking around with Scott again, going to an “Oyster and Seafood Fair”, drinking hot chocolate from Apostrophe, eating shortbread and spitting it straight out. I am also getting the usual Sunday depression and I wonder if I should feel guilty for hoping my parents will not fulfill the lifetime expectation so that I can inherit all their bloody property soon, rent it out, live on that income and never have to work again.

I have 1 song by the Candyskins and I’ve played it 5 times
I have 1 song by Capella and I’ve played it 14 times
I have 34 songs by the Cardigans and I’ve played them 433 times

Friday, 7 September 2007

Friday 07/09/07

On Thursday I go to the gym where I do legs, even though I can hardly walk from my jog the previous day, and then I go home and I play on iTunes. And I decide to work out a list of my top 10 most played artists, because a few people have been asking about this recently.

And this actually takes a while, because I have to go through all the artists and see which ones are likely to have made the top 10 and then I have to see how many songs I’ve got from each one and then I have to add up the plays of each song. But I can’t pretend I don’t like this, because there are very few things I enjoy more than a tedious numerical task.

So here are the results. Hovering just under the top 10 we have Bruce Springsteen and Daft Punk and Felix Da Housecat and Placebo and Tori Amos, but we won’t concern ourselves with those guys, because if they wanted to be in the top 10 they should have written better songs right?

And the top 10 is:

10. Bjork 36 songs played 401 times
9. The Cardigans 34 songs played 431 times
8. Gene 23 songs played 451 times
7. Tiga 28 songs played 569 times
6. Pet Shop Boys 45 songs played 595 times
5. Fischerspooner 28 songs played 705 times
4. Suede 58 songs played 833 times
3. Saint Etienne 46 songs played 857 times
2. The Smiths / Morrissey 90 songs played 1,074 times
1. Madonna 89 songs played 1,926 times

But then I realise that I’m not liking that list one bit and what the hell is Madonna doing there on top? What am I, some kind of fag? So I try to justify this to myself and I decide that she’s only there because she’s been going for 20 years and she has lots of songs.

So I come up with an alternative list, which takes the top 10 above and works out the average plays per song for those guys in the top 10. And this alternative list is:

10. Bjork (11 plays per song)
9. The Smiths / Morrissey (12)
8. The Cardigans (13)
7. Pet Shop Boys (13)
6. Suede (14)
5. Saint Etienne (19)
4. Gene (20)
3. Tiga (20)
2. Madonna (22)
1. Fischerspooner (25)

And from those lists we can make the following assumption, which is that I like a) depressing indie, b) electro and c) err…Madonna.

Then when I’m done with this I rush to the living room because I have to watch an episode of Family Guy followed by Desperate Housewives before I go to bed, otherwise I’m sure I’ll be very stressed and I won’t be able to sleep.

And during Desperate Housewives that dead voiceover woman does her bit where she pretends to be wise and know everything in a self-satisfied, smug manner and says something like “to live in fear is to not live at all”. And then I think, oh my, I do live in fear all the time, maybe I should change that. I live on fear of my magazine shoots being seen by the wrong people, or my blog being read by the wrong people or becoming ill with GBS again, etc.

Then I realise that taking the dead voiceover woman from Desperate Housewives seriously is even worse than living in fear, so I take half a Valium and go to bed trying to focus on my run across Hyde Park after the gym on Friday.

Thursday, 6 September 2007

Thursday 06/09/07

On Wednesday I decide that I’m going to jog back home from work because a) there is the tube strike I’ve talked about, b) the weather is very good for that kind of thing at the moment and c) it goes very well with my new image this week, which is normal / masculine / active.

So obviously when I get up on Wednesday I find out that the tube strike has ended, but I decide to still go ahead with my plan. And the most important thing about any plan is the way you look while you’re going through with it, so at lunchtime I go and buy an arm strap for my iPod and new running trainers.

I also go to Marks & Spencer’s and I buy some very plain, clueless straight boy-type white boxer shorts, because as I’ve mentioned before I’m tired of wearing super gay appalling Aussiebums and I want to be more like Marky Mark / less like a podium dancer high on G on a Sunday morning at 0600 in a filthy club in Vauxhall. And obviously white M&S pants will do all that.

So after work I go to the gym (I’m not going to skip the gym just because I’m also going running), where I do back and abs and I complain about the Shower Pervert again, who’s back to his old tricks. You may not know who the Shower Pervert is (read back stories here and here if you like), but in summary, he’s a disgusting short baldie guy who spies on people in the showers. And wanks. Behind their backs. Well after I complained all these months ago he’s still there. Hasn’t he found any other means of sexual gratification yet? It’s so pathetic.

Like Scott says, the only way he will stop is if he accidentally pervs on some confident, brazen guy who will step out of the shower, ask him what he thinks he’s doing and punch him in the face. Sadly, even though I would really love to be, I am not that kind of guy. If I were 6’1” though and built quite big, I would be punching people left right and centre.

After the gym I go and meet Matty because it’s his birthday and I give him his birthday present, which is 3 pairs of M&S clueless straight-boy boxer shorts that I bought at the same time as mine. But for Matty this isn’t an aspirational look – he actually is clueless straight boy and he seems happy enough to receive his pants, not too dissimilar to a trained monkey receiving a banana. Easily pleased.

Then it’s time for the run. I’m still not going to tell you exactly where I live or work (because 3 people have already expressed an interest to hit me with a sledgehammer or chop my hands off in the poll on the right), but here’s a short description so you can fully understand this story. I work near the Eastern end of a quite long and VERY busy commercial street in central London. At the Western end of this street is located a quite big and very well known central London park. I live near the other end of the park. So basically to get home I need to go through the commercial street and then walk along the park.

So I decide to take the tube halfway, bypass the street and just run the rest of the distance, along the park. Wikipedia tells me that this distance is about 2km (1.24 miles), which is fair enough for a first run. So I get there, strap my iPod on my arm, start playing Hard-Fi’s Living for the Weekend and run. Run like the wind. Then about 3 songs later I’m at home and it actually feels great. I’ll be doing that a lot.

Finally, on Wednesday I also decide to give AXM a call and ask if anything is happening with my article. After being assured that they were just about to get back to me, I am told that “they didn’t have space in the October issue in the end”. Instead, would I like to submit an article for the December issue (November is also full) on a different topic. Admittedly this is quite disappointing because I did put a lot of work in my original article and I thought it was quite good and I showed it to a couple of friends and they also liked it and now all this effort will go to waste because nobody will ever see or use this. And if I do sit down and write another 500 words on the new topic, is there really any guarantee that it will be published or seen by anyone or that I will get paid for it? Who knows.

I have 1 song by Camille Jones and I’ve played it 2 times
I have 4 songs by Candi Staton and I’ve played them 221 times*
I have 2 songs by Candie Payne and I’ve played them19 times

*One of them is actually my most played song on my iPod. “You got the love” by Candi Staton ft The Source – 203 times

Wednesday, 5 September 2007

Wednesday 05/09/07

So as you know when AXM first contacted me to do the latest cover shoot they also said that they wanted me to write a short article for them (about 500 words) on a specific topic they gave me, which would be published in the following issue (the one after the Naked Issue). And this was one of the main reasons why I accepted to do the shoot, as I would much rather try my hand at writing and have something published than continue to do daft and shameful photoshoots which I’ve had enough of to be honest.

So here’s the timeline of the recent events relating to this:

Wednesday, 15th August: AXM with me on the cover comes out

Monday, 20th August: I email the editor and tell him that I like the cover. I thank him for asking me to do the shoot. I also ask when he would like me to send my article through, which I’ve already written, even though I suspect it’s still a bit early. A few minutes later I get an Out of Office reply, which says that he will be back on Tuesday 28th August

Thursday, 30th August: I give it a couple of days after his return (presumably he has a lot to catch up with after being away for a week and doesn’t need me pestering him as well) and I email again. I ask how his holiday was, comment that I hope sales for the Naked Issue have gone well and ask whether he would like me to send my article through

Monday 3rd September: Having received no reply yet, I decide to email again. I mention the emails I’ve already sent, make a joke that possibly having me on the cover affected sales really badly and they don’t want me to write the article anymore and ask him to please let me know either way

On the same day, I sent a similar message to the magazine via their Myspace page, just in case the editor hasn’t been picking up his emails or something. Later that day I see that the message I sent has been read (you can check that on myspace), but I still haven’t received a reply.

So here we are then, 4 messages later and no response. I don’t know – maybe I’m being a bit impatient? I may have this completely wrong because obviously I don’t know how magazines work and it might still be too early for them to start looking at articles for the next issue, even though the last one came out on the 15th of August and I presume the next one will be out in 10 days. So we’ll see how that goes innit.

Other things that happen on Tuesday are:

- The tube strike is still going so Scott picks me up from the gym on his motorbike and we go home

- He has bought me a present, which is a face mask, and no we don’t usually sit at home putting on face masks and doing our nails, but this one is a chocolate one which he thought I would like, which I do, and to be honest I don’t really know if it does anything for my skin, but it sure smells and tastes good

Mean sends me an email where he reviews yesterday’s post and identifies the common recurring themes of my blog in a hilarious manner:

Emotional introspection: check

Britpop namecheck: er...check

Disdain for lower social grades: check

Unrequited lust for Josh: check

Formulaic. But if it ain't broke, don't try and fix it.

Then we joke that I should eventually produce a software program to write the blog for me. Something perhaps where I just throw some words in and it rearranges them into infinite combinations. And some of the words could be:

- Depressed
- Abs
- Josh
- The Bluetones
- Valium
- Central London
- Secretaries

So we could have:

“I look at Josh’s abs in a magazine I’m flicking through and I get depressed and I’m in central London surrounded by secretaries so I drop two Valium and my iPod is playing the Bluetones”

“I’m at the gym and I’m doing abs and some trashy secretary’s on the running machine who probably uses a map to find her way around central London and I remember that I’ve run out of Valium so I make a note to ask Frederik to write me a prescription and an old video by The Bluetones comes on TV and I’m feeling depressed”

I have 1 song by Caesars and I’ve played it 3 times
I have 3 songs by Cake and I’ve played them 67 times
I have 4 songs by Calvin Harris and I’ve played them 2 times

Tuesday, 4 September 2007

Tuesday 04/09/07

So because I think that life is bad enough and I don’t really want any additional negativity if I can help it, I’ve got this thing going where I don’t watch anything negative or sad or miserable on TV. And that includes any violence, anyone getting hurt (physically or emotionally), anyone dying, people arguing, people shouting, anything relating to sickness, poverty, suffering, any tears, tantrums, social issues, etc. Anything relating to real life then.

And here are some examples of how this affects my TV watching habits:

- The only films I can watch (or start watching anyway because I lose interest 22 minutes in usually) are children’s films / teen comedies / romantic comedies. I could never ever bring myself to watch anything serious like Babel or The Green Mile, etc

- I never watch the news

- When I watch the Simpsons and Itchy & Scratchy comes on I look away because it’s too violent and graphic

- I don’t watch documentaries or current affairs programmes

- I can’t watch reality shows like Big Brother, because people just shout at each other and I find it distressing

Another area where this behaviour extends is my relationship with other people. When somebody (friend / acquaintance) says or does something that upsets me I don’t stay there to argue or confront them or discuss it, I just walk away. Well, when they first say it I may argue a bit then, but in the long-term I stop being friends or stop talking to them.

And I like living in this bubble very much.

Anyway, on Tuesday there’s supposed to be a tube strike, but I never really believe that because what usually happens is that everyone gets really excited / terrified when this is announced and then you turn up and everything is working fine, because the decided not to go ahead with it.

But this time they seem more determined and when I check both the tube stations that are near my house at 0905 they’re closed and they’re sending people away. I could bitch about this like every other Londoner, but I don’t mind really.

I don’t really want to say where I live, because one of the 2-3 people who occasionally send anonymous aggro emails / comments might turn up and kill me if I do, but I can tell you that it would probably take 45-50 minutes to walk from home to work. And Tuesday is a nice day so I set off to do that. And whilst I’m walking along a lovely central London park for 20 minutes I’m listening to Menswear and Marion and the Manic Street Preachers and I’m feeling quite happy.

But I’m carrying a heavy gym bag and I’m starting to get sweaty and tired and slightly annoyed about halfway to work and then I decide to give up and take the bus. Normally buses are disgusting of course and I would never get on one, but today the passengers are not of the usual low-life demographic, they are office workers who would normally take the tube but can’t, so it’s alright.

And the bus goes past Niketown and I see a huge picture of Josh Lewsey stuck on the window, so I a) fall in love again and b) take a picture.

And then I switch my soundtrack to Good Vibrations by Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch and I listen to that on a constant loop until I reach my office and I realise that I have to replace all my underwear with crispy white Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

I have 1 song by The Buzzcocks and I’ve played it 9 times
I have 1 song by C&C Music Factory and I’ve played it 8 times
I have 1 song by Cabaret Voltaire and I’ve played it 2 times

Monday, 3 September 2007

Monday 03/09/07

Also this weekend I go in the Apple shop to have a look at the MacBook and play with it and see if I want to buy one. And I like it enough but I’m not sure I want to buy it right now, because I’m sure I’ll go back home and I won’t know how to set it up or connect to the internet and it will only annoy me.

Plus this weekend I’ve been feeling quite happy and positive and I don’t really feel the need to spend a lot of money and buy something. When I’m feeling down and upset that’s when I want to go out and buy something really expensive and then I instantly feel better. So I’ll wait until I’m depressed again and then go and buy it.

Not to mention that if I do get a new laptop I’ll have to re-install iTunes and I’ll lose all the history I currently have (number of plays, playlists, etc). But maybe that’s a good thing because I can start from scratch and I will only play “cool” songs and not give any play counts to the “embarrassing” ones. Mind you, this will only last for about 3 days and then Samantha Fox will race to the tope of the charts again.

On Sunday Scott and I decide to go to the Vauxhall market. Vauxhall is a very crappy and derelict area in South London and I don’t really know why Scott is dragging me there, or why I accept to go. This is the kind of market where:

- You can buy stolen microwaves that don’t work

- You can buy plastic “Gucci” belts with a 69 pattern instead of the double G

- The only food options are hot dogs and deep fried onions and the only drinks options are knock-off Arabic cola cans

- The police don’t even bother turning up because they would have to arrest 4,659 people on the spot and that’s more trouble than it’s worth

- 77% of the people there (both sellers and customers) don’t speak English as a first language and the 23% that do, think that the letter “h” is always silent if it’s at the beginning of a word

- Amongst the white people there faded mermaid or British bulldog tattoos are compulsory on men aged 11 or above

- Only Scott and I have all our teeth

So we walk around for about half an hour and it’s very busy and loud and smelly and even though I’m trying to cope suddenly I start getting very agitated and sweaty and annoyed and I need to get out. But we’re too far in already and we have to walk all the way back and I don’t know where I’m going or where the way out is and Scott tries to put his hands on my shoulders to comfort me, but I can’t have any of that and I push him away, because I’m suffocating and now I’m starting to draw short breaths and I’m feeling dizzy and sick. And it seems we’re going round in circles trying to find the way so I’m about to faint and suddenly we find a short cut and get out and we stand there for 10 minutes or so while I get my breath back.

And I think this is what you call a panic attack so at that point I decide that I really should carry two Valium with me at all times.

And I can pretend this isn’t true, but I’m feeling quite proud that I can suffer from class-induced panic attacks, even though Mean says it’s pretty girly.

Finally, here’s a picture I stole from Bobby’s blog. And because I liked the position so much (and that dude), I tried to recreate it. Sadly, I couldn’t do it without someone taking the picture, so it’s a very bad copy. Plus the guy is about 34 times hotter than me. I may ask Scott to take the picture for me and post again.

The real thing:

The Tesco Value options:

I have 1 song by Bubba Sparxxx and I've played it 10 times
I have 1 song by The Bucketheads and I've played it 9 times
I have2 songs by Bush and I've played them 14 times

Sunday, 2 September 2007

Sunday 02/09/07

On Friday evening it’s a work night out and even though I haven’t been on a work night out since I started my job about a year ago, I decide to go to this one. So we go to this French restaurant and there’s about 20 of us and for starter I get the sautéed asparagus with rocket, virgin oil and parmesan and then as main I get the crisp skin fillet of sea bass with caramelized baby fennel and crushed hazelnut beurre noisette.

But I’m not happy with the meal because everything is very fatty and greasy (the asparagus is swimming in oil, the sea bass the same) and then when I get the white chocolate torte for dessert, well quite frankly that’s like drinking double cream straight of a carton. But at least I don’t have to pay for any of this, you know? And then this restaurant goes on the black list of places I should never go again.

After that we go to this really tacky bar, because people obviously want to continue drinking until they’re uninhibited enough to start making out with each other and then go back to work on Monday and pretend none of these things happened, but I get bored quickly there and leave 10 minutes later.

On Saturday I’m supposed to go out with Matty and the other lads for Matty’s birthday. And we’re supposed to meet in this pub is Soho called The Glasshouse, or at least this is what Matty tells me beforehand. So I turn up on Brewer Street where this place is supposed to be, but the only pubs I can find are either The Glasshouse Stores or the Glassblower. So this confuses me no end and I don’t know what to do. And for some reason I don’t have Matty’s number on my phone and nobody else is answering.

And I’m not very willing to try both pubs to see which one they’re in, because to be honest they look very unappealing and I’m not sure I want to know really. Outside The Glasshouse Stores there are three 60-year-old guys with faded ex-sailor tattoos on their arms chain smoking and looking poor and stupid and I’m sorry, I’m not planning to walk through those guys and look in the pub. So I walk around for 25 minutes and then I go back and they are gone and I go in and find Matty etc there. And obviously I have a go at him for giving me the name of the pub inaccurately.

So inside, we catch up and discuss the following topics:

- According to the Evening Standard, there are about 250 gangs operating in London at this point in time, which explains the occasional shooting (usually in some crappy area I wouldn’t even go to if they paid me in East or South London). And we all agree that all those people should get on with it and shoot each other dead (“because the country wouldn’t be losing any cancer curers”) or at least get sent to the war in Iraq. We are very liberal and tolerant towards different classes like that

- We discuss the merits of living in different areas of London, and with me being such a strong advocate for west-central London, Mean tries to put the area where I live down by saying that it’s full of “rootless cosmopolitan Euro-trash” and I don’t really take much offence at that, because it’s a pretty fair and accurate description. Of me and my neighbours

Then it’s time to go home where Scott and Donnell and I stay in and attempt to watch movies but we get bored and stop each of them about 15 minutes in. And here are two pictures of Scott, a) watching movies and b) taking a piss in the kitchen sink because the bathroom is too far to walk to

And finally here are two pictures from a French website that very kindly decided to run a story on my blog and me and it's called A cause de Garcons. Or sumfink.

I have 11 songs by Bruce Springsteen and I've played them 291 times
I have 6 songs by Bryan Adams and I've played them 64 times
I have 1 song by Bryan Ferry and I've played it 8 times