Me, My Blog & I

Lately, I've been neglecting this poor thing so much. It's like this with every pet project of mine. I start out nurturing and obsessive about the poor thing's health to the point of being maternal (minus the breastfeeding - I've tried that when I was a 108 kg with my fire-point Persian. Contrary to schoolyard wisdom, man-boobs are still technically chests). But after a few weeks of TLC someone has to call in the RSPCA.

I guess I could pick from a whole list of possible excuses;

• I spent the whole of Easter break (spring break for you Americans - neo-colonialist bastards the lot of you! *shudders with rage*) doing absolutely nothing consequential (except for saving the world once or twice. It is rumored that if I don't jack off more than three times a day the apocalypse is bound to ensue. Butterflies' wings people, butterflies' wings) so I was left with two days to put together random bits of incoherent gobbledygook off the top of my head under an important sounding title (basically what George W. Bush's speech-writing staff do on a daily basis. Zzzzing!).
• My dad's not doing well (awwww).
• I found a goldmine of old Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes on www.projectw.org (there you are lads. Free publicity. Now let my girlfriend go! *violin music*) which I still enjoy although I am aware that teenagers and twenty-somethings don't really spout that kind of pop-culture commentary.

OR I could just tell you the truth. Which is kinda sorta in the general area of the last excuse, which I thought deserved a position on my list of justifications right after the possibly fatal illness of my father (ah go figure). In all honesty, I've just been lazy and careless.

*Looks intense* Me and you, we've been through so much, blog. It's sad but I guess the honeymoon phase is over. I still love you and I'm prepared for a commitment but....that spark. It's missing. All we've got left is a warm, cozy little fire which I'm hoping is enough to sustain us in our golden years.

So to give you a sample of my newfound interests. Here are a few tracks produced by Mark Ronson, who I believe may be the second coming!! Hallelujah!!!!!

The first one is a cover of the Kaiser Chiefs' Oh My God. Which was literally my first response to this addictive club refunkification of the original track (which - to the horror of most purists - I liked but stopped liking before it got to the love phase). What's even better than the jazzalicious horns and dance-ey vibe are the vocals by Lily Allen. Love that girl. No one can out-ironically-sing her.



This next track, another cover, namely, of The Smiths' Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before, has vocals by Daniel Merriweather (he of the unfortunately ponce-like surname). It takes some getting used to - an acquired taste as far as I'm concerned anyway. But even for those who hate the first listen, the last part where Daniel launches into a soulful rendition of The Supremes' You Keep Me Hangin' On is guaranteed to titillate.



Ah! This reminds me of my short stint as a dj at VOM last summer. Hope to be back there in June boo (yeah you pesticles). So people, remember my name, I'm gonna live forever.......

Attention Adults!

Today is the start of a new year for me because I just turned twenty-two yesterday. Don't get me wrong - I got loads of love for the first of January but the tenth of April was when I came into this world and being the self-centred narcissist I am, that's when a year really ends as far as I'm concerned.

A lot of us semi-educated, so-called liberatis (I could write lyrics for Alanis Morissette) reflect on our personal growth and our achievements after the candles are blown out and hangovers are cured but barring the continued extension of certain generous endowments, I know I've barely changed. As a close friend reminded me, I'm still the "kiddy kid" (still a fan of redundancy too) I was two years ago and I have no delusions about my place in this world which will go on sucking donkey dong way after I'm covered in six feet of dirt. So I dedicate Pizzicato Five's Baby Love Child, below, which I earnestly believe was written for me, BY ME (Oh look! I'm still deluded too. Yay!)