Hot digidy damn. Saturday was my birthday BBQ boogaloo bonanza. My actual birthday is 28th December (shite shite shite) so have decided to throw myself an official one six months later in the year to strike up a decent balance. And I’m pretty sure that is was better than the queens childrens party panto sorry affair. (Most hilarious way to get through a come down.)
My specifics on the invite were no numpties or drama and that’s what I got (though there were a few knob ends but there are always those who slip through the net).
People started to arrive about 3 and was a steady stream throughout the day with Josh finally arriving around midnight.
I got my head down on the decks (thanking you kindly Mattcat) and span some boots and old ravey flavours (and to be honest, because a kid turned up which freaked me out a bit. I don’t really want kids around when I intend to get trolleyed and swear like a nun.). Dan did a top job on the BBQ and though there were different people from different groups, everyone got on and no drama or conflicts thank fuck.
I had some rather interesting gifts; A basket of flowers from Dan (and an unsigned card with googly eyes), Holestar socks from Harry (with Holestar written backwards), Pat Butcher type jewellery from Josh and one of the greatest presents in the history of gifts: Shut up and dance - Raving I’m Raving on 7”. Woot!
Hadn’t intended to get on the ‘Benny Hill’s’ but it was my party and I‘ll get high if I want to. Took me quite a while to get going but when I was there twas top bananna. Until I chucked up my ring at the bottom of the garden. Classy.
Well Dan said it wouldn’t be a proper party unless the hostess puked at her own bash. Quite right.
There was a bit of male on male action going on which was alarmingly quite saucy and I forgot how annoying drunk people are when you’re battered and they are rolling around being pissed and obnoxious (note to self).
We were treated to a Pirate Soundsystem set with Don and Josh (watch this space, these boys are going to go far. FACT.). And I will be hosting at their next shin dig: Pirate 2 - Bring Back Frank Butcher.
I’ll be donning a Pat look for the evening.
All in all, a top day and night had by all I believe. No complaints from the neighbors (though we were pretty darn loud) and the only damage was done to a few brain cells and a cupboard door in the kitchen coming off its hinges.
So a few people didn’t turn up. You snooze, you loose.
Hot photo action with wigs, my strap on and other malarkey here and here.
Finally kicked out the last guest at 8am and a bit of a kip before clearing up the carnage and watching football in the garden (What a lame game. Cracking goal from Golden Knackers though.) and having another BBQ with the remains of the day.
Was asked several times when I was next having a party, intend on having another bash later in the summer (having a big garden and not using it is a bit rude.)
Was supposed to have a gig this week but quite wankily got cancelled (not one I’m all that bothered with pursuing to be honest. Not my kind of club or people) and next week will be the 1001 deg North at The Spitz.
I recorded the vocals on Thursday for something that has made me quite excited to be a part of. Can’t really blab about it yet but it’s going to be the first tune from a rather credible ‘group’ in 10 years.
I hope to be online soon. Going to the internet café on a regular basis to sort my life out is frustrating as watching the advert that starts ‘Is your man one of the one in ten men with an erection problem’.
Oh and Big Brother. I’ve been sucked into its vacuous hole. I’m actually studying it and doing a lot of research on celebrity and reality culture for my Fine Art Masters. I got a call last week asking if I wanted to go on ‘Trisha’. The ‘plot’ was ‘Guess what Dad, I’m a Tranny’. She does her patronising bit, I come out in drag, father’s reaction and then they drag up dad for the finale. Classy eh?
I’m guessing they didn’t know I’m actually a chick and lord knows how they found out about me.
I told the researcher no because 1) My parents know, 2) I actually have a bit of dignity left and 3) I didn’t want to sell my soul to daytime TV. Especially not car crash Trisha.
I would do it, but only if I could direct it to my advantage and make it into a performance piece with a fake Dad (my father would look shocking in a frock anyway) but that is very unlikely.
I’m really not desperate for that kind of exposure. A lot of people have said I’d be a good contestant on Big Brother as even at 29, I’ve had a pretty interesting life and speak my mind. I wouldn’t last five minutes in there, especially with the lot that are in there at the moment.
So desperate to have their moment in the light for not actually doing anything but be on TV. Watching Friday nights Lisa eviction (now that’s a girl who can swear), it was amazing how as soon as she’d left the house, she posed for the cameras like a pro despite being an actual nobody.
Lap it all up baby because no one will have a clue or care who you are in six months. Do these people not see how previous house mates have crashed and burned upon leaving the house?
The ‘Golden Ticket Winner’ Suzy is so desperate for fame, that her husband apparently bought £4000 worth of promotional Kit Kats so she could have a chance of entering the house, mirroring Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
She is quite rich so doesn’t need the cash but clearly desperate for attention and lacking in other areas. She has very little in common with the others, won’t drink the cheap wine the other house mates are given, has huge knockers that ridicule her frame and is quite dull. Probably quite a pleasant person, just 0 entertainment value.
Now Nikki. She’s my girl. I despised her character at first but now find her the most entertaining thing about the show. Her tantrums and the way she uses language is ingenious (‘Why is she sucking the bum‘? ‘Whatever tickles your pickle’ ‘I’m not sucking arse holes’) There has never been such an extreme character, fictional or otherwise on our screens. When she’s not in a rage about some innocuous matter, she’s quite dull but when she lets fly it‘s pure sacrificial entertainment.
In the past, many would attend public executions. Big Brother and reality TV is the modern day equivalent.
Car crash amusement. You know you shouldn’t be watching, but morbid curiosity means you just can’t help looking.
Not going to go into the ‘star with talent’ versus ‘celebrity’ culture thing. Got to save something for the thesis. (Though finding enough credible research resources on the subject is pretty tough).
This net café currently smells of dried spunk and B.O. Delightful non?