So you wanna be an internet startup _______?

_pornstar_?

The internet has seen it all, and it has shared all with us. How many musicians out there got their big break through Myspace? (I'm looking at Lilly Allen, yes, her). I don't know. Tons. Mark Zuckerberg got crazy rich when he moved the Harvard Facebook to a server farm. Hell, throw in some Chris Crocker for good measure.

Yes, I've been straying from the topic. It's not as if I really wanted to share my insight into the subject introduced by the title, but I felt like my creativity needed another output. Basically, the internet will make you famous, even for the proven 2 seconds of full attention that the average internet junkie will sacrifice...just for you. For fraks sake, all Chris Crocker had to do was put aside the fact that he's gay and propose to Britney Spears complete with a ring of tears.

So pornstars have been complaining about the internet, and how it is shaking up this billion moolah industry and bring it to its knees, pun intended. We can't help it! Orgasms are good. Free is good. Porn is good. Free orgasms from free porn...hmm, you get it. After all, when we get down to it, it's the action that matters. Who wants to watch all the prefuck bad acting and dialogue anyway? Just start blowing him already for fraks sake.

Ok, gross.

Ok really, I'm about to let go of some inside info here. Bear with me. All right, here goes.

I have a camera, which takes videos, you know, like every other camera out there. It also takes pictures, 'cause you know, it's a camera. Lately, it took a liking to taking nude pictures, and film. Of my girlfriend, and yours truly. Come on, everyone does it. I bet even Oprah does it. Frak me if Simon Cowell hasn't done it. Point is, it's not really a big deal. Got over it already? Yeah. Good.

So all these moving pictures and stills, they go to my trusty macbook, of course. And since my girlfriend's semi-dumb-ass computer can't see me on the uni network, she asks me to transfer everything into her usb stick. Of course she wants a copy. So there it goes, file transfer completed into a folder on the frakkin homepage of the thumbdrive. And she calls the folder 'tiger.'

Mind you, tiger has months of data in it. Months.

Then we go to London and act gayer than gay we made G-A-Y just a little straighter, except I apparently semi-passed out on a chair and still managed to give the cabbie directions to the hostel, which was on a pub. On a pub, bitch. But that's for another day. There's another camera, with a really funny person in it. It's a cylon camera. And it took pictures, of us of course. And the pictures go into a folder. Guess where? On the damn thumbdrive. And the folder is called 'snogging.'

So...tiger and snogging live their happy lives in this thumbdrive. Everything's fine. Life is good in the real world and in the 8gig volume of the thumbdrive. Stuff gets added, maybe, but stuff never got deleted. Then they get lost. tiger and snogging. They get lost in the woods, in the real world. In a room full of computers, and people who aren't my girlfriend. My girlfriend leaves them in this scary world full of people who might be deviant enough to peruse other people's lost thumbdrives...

So there. If I ever make it to TheChive, or Xtube, or Tube8, or the gods know where...please tell me. My girlfriend and I are pretty hot...nymphlike, the type Humbert Humbert would fall for. I can see your boner right now, and you're gay. Slap it down ho.

A kiss in the air and a little black dress...

...makes a really nice date.

I'm so sure the person hired to click a mouse to take a photo of people in a pod hanging from a gigantic wheel had a lot of fun watching a young not-couple making out in the air.

And then when we got out, a man 'working to help put homeless people in shelters' adeptly forced us to 'donate' to the cause by giving him money in exchange for a magazine that we might have been able to pick up at the nearest LGF center. Yes, the magazine had the gay map of Mcr.

Then the little black dress was seen, tried on, and bought. Topshop!

What is the best way to ask someone to be your girlfriend?

By going to a stationary store, trying out your favorite pen, and writing the question on a blank piece of paper intended for trying out pens.
That was the most compulsive thing I have ever done.

And so we go from not-girlfriend to girlfriend, booked haircut appointments at the same time and place, had our first official planned date, and walked back home in the rain together, all in one day.

I think I deserve a pat on the back for that one.

Breakfast in bed with extra sides...anyone?

That elephant was bigger than the GOP, but it floats really well in water

And so it was Friday, the traditional G Unit Cultural Food Night, the meatballs were ballin' and the mash was mashin' and the carrots were orange. Tiger Tiger was on the agenda.

We made it to Friday without getting caught too red-handed, but all of a sudden, the elephant decided it was more important the the ironing board, and the American decided that being American right after dinner was most appropriate.

Thus, the questioning began.

'He felt like something is going between you two. I mean, let's let the elephant out of the room, 'cause this week has been...awkward...'

Cue uncontrollable blushing, lambrini drinking, and chocolate munching.

Turns out, they both had an idea, and were too polite to even gossip about it. China is relieved.

Post-sneaking-around, and first thing we do is dip in a tub of warm candy bubbles and give the walls something to talk about after 2 decades of routine baths and the occasional laundry. Also, pheromones mixing to produce enough to give men within a mile radius the most confused boners of their lives. We are so goddamn hot.

Move with me to Canada please.

An oceanic kitchen lies between us

But we have no trouble crossing it.
But then again, thank god it's there, or else revision would be history.

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

Until someone swings the door open and yells out my name and says 'she's in the flat somewhere!'
That's my cue to get under the covers be as fucking quiet as possible. Quiet. SHHH! Quieter than when I took my SATs.

So she turns the light off, and opens the door, entertains these guests while pretending to have gone to bed already. Well, technically, she had gone to bed...but for other purposes.

And during the whole 5 minutes that this entertaining went on, I was clutching my jaw so hard that my molars were about to crack. Also, not breathing.

But I must admit, all this sneaking around is exciting. No. A better word would be challenging. The challenge is to make it to the end of the week without getting caught. If that happens, MI6 has their new James Bond. Yes, I do think James Bond is not a person, but a code name, and that Bond and his girl ARE James Bond. I'm the geek in pajamas after all.

Please please please...

Begging leads to...bathroom breaks every 10 minutes. ^^
Promise, I won't do it again. d(*.*)b

Final stretch

HEL to MCR. Poleteli, poleteli, poleteli, poleteli.

Today's to-do list:
-Watch My Neighbour Totoro
-RUN to Sainsbury's to get ingredients for quiche and cookies.
-Not freeze in the process of running.
-File and buff nails.
-Continue re/learning various pieces.
-Bake quiche and cookies.
-Wait.
-Wait some more.
-Possibly wait some more.
-We'll see.

I dug up some scores

I dug up the score to Agustin Barrios-Mangore's 'La Catedral,' and guess what...

I realised that I haven't played any part of this piece for over half a year now, and I've been learning how to play the whole piece for the past two years.

Talk about SLOW.

Lento, lento, lento...

Yes I can.

Your house or mine

I don't really care about it anymore.

But, if that really was 'hotter than your Majorcan lover,' well then...that was the best compliment I've ever heard.

Six seasons of The L Word later, I am the queen of doing things right without a manual. Thank you, Shane McCutcheon. You are my fucking hero(ine). Please send me the combat boots you wore in season 5.

I should've kept the cardigan, now I don't want to wash my sheets.

I spend the night
I lay awake and miss you when you go
Without me.

Wish List

The Filipino-American Kitchen: Traditional Recipes, Contemporary Flavors
(found on Amazon)

Mutants: on the Form, Varieties, and Errors of the Human Body by Armand Leroi

The Blind Watchmaker by Richard Dawkins

Moleskine notebook

Moleskine planner/diary

Blank ink for my fountain pen

No-shave november

Not a follower but umm...

Last night, I dreamt about having the largest wild fucking bush in EXISTENCE. And in my dream, I even KNEW that I had shaved the day before. I telly you, this bush was so thick full I could've donated it to wig-makers.

Needless to say, I woke up sweating literally tore my pj's off to see if reforestation can really occur so quickly.

Whew...

I lied and didn't lie about being confused

Finally I confessed, to you, my dear Scandinavian, about what I have pretended not to be upon arrival in this country, about what I have intended to do but did not upon arrival in this country.

That, I say, is perfectly clear. I lied about that.

But I also say that I wish I had studied their culture more. Invitations? Sleepovers? Drunken sleepovers? Question question question...why why why...arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, christmas.

I say it was alcohol. The confusion is no longer a problem.

Consequences of learning sex from pornography

1. We left 2 hours after convening

It was an indie club, on a Wednesday night, where they play popular indie music, all supposedly unsigned, with a great distaste for Lilly Allen's support of record companies. Their Myspace pages are all over Facebook.

But I think Myspace is a record label for the poor, where art struggles to outshine ten million stars continuously pulsing with extreme-angle high-contrast mirror-shots with lens flare for good measure.

Dancing to unknown tunes is harder than it looks, realising that I know nothing about this country while dancing to its music is even harder, and the three vodka lemonades aren't doing the job, the one in my hand now is only making the floor slick, already slick from years of drunk students wasting their precious beverages to decreased motor function.

2. I'm glad I didnt forget your name

There were eight of us, in one big circle, shaking and jerking to drumbeats and synth riffs, pulsing like an uncoordinated volvox coenibum in the canal of a high-mount slide. Maybe I was actually drunk, but my psychological tolerance has gotten so high from a week of 200 proof alcohol diet, but I felt like we should've been in Chris Brown's Forever video.
This could be an entry to fmylife. Today, I had my first kiss in an indie club, with a guy I met that same night. I just lost my virginity to him. FML

I hope they wiped the kitchen table before eating that pizza.

--------------
FICTION ALERT

I had a good picture

Capitalism is what?!

"Capitalism is not only the most efficient and productive system, it is also the most just system with the greatest benefit for all people."--some person who wrote an article on Helium.

http://www.helium.com/debates/111700-should-us-workers-be-guaranteed-more-vacation-time/side_by_side?page=6

Right column, last line.

Anyway, umm...nigga what?

I respectfully digress, thank you. I've been influenced enough by left-leaning Social Science professors to believe that bullshit. GDP growth ≠ a nation's well-being. That's all. Merci, danke, thank you, tack.

Adam and the Queen

So...has Queen asked Adam Lambert to be their frontman already?

I doubt it, but Adam could easily be the next freaking Freddie Mercury, if not better.

Now now, I wonder what Idol producers are gonna do for next year. There won't be a next Adam who will invigorate a cash-cow that's drier than a hyena's bleached femur in the African savannah.

redial for glambert

i can sing the dial tones for 1 866 43657 05.

therefore i have no life. but even in that regard, i still found kris allen to be boring.

The first in months

Tonight, t.A.T.u. performed at this year's Eurovision opening ceremony in Moscow. They lipsynced, awkwardly and with mistakes, their 2003 ESC entry, Ne Ver Ne Boisya Ne Prosi.

Imho, they were SHYTE.

But I want their clothes.

Despite the warrant of arrest, I had a conversation with you

I was lucky to have found you, sitting in a newly renovated hallway for your lunch duty, annoyed by the continuous stream of students with a complete disregard for authority. Out of the corner of my eye, your dark hair was unmistakeable. You haven't had a haircut since we last met, have you ?

So I turned right, and by the grace of something, you turned towards me, which made me realize that my infinitesimal myopia, is indeed, a handicap, for I couldn't see how your facial muscles stretched for the smile, for the call of my name. But I quickened my pace. You stood up for a hug, which I gladly gave, and you gladly returned, while squeezing my right hand.

You need filth

The dog and the Flask

de Charles Baudelaire

«--My beautiful dog, by good dog, my dear doggie, come over and have a sniff of this excellent perfume, bought from the best perfumer in the city. And the dog, wagging its tail, which, I believe, in these poor beasts corresponds to laughter and smiles, approaches and curiously places its moist nose on the open flask; then, fearfully recoiling all of a sudden, he barks at me, in a reproaching manner.

«--Oh! Miserable dog, if I had offered you a bag of excrement, you would have sniffed it with delight and perhaps, even devoured it. Thus you, unworthy companion of my sad life, you resemble the world, to which one must never present the delicate perfumes that exasperate it, but rather carefully chosen filth.»

So what has changed between Baudelaire's time and ours?

The weaponry.

His inner lesbian family has a voice

OMG *squeeeeeeeal* Jenny is soooo hawt *squeeeeeal*

My inner lesbian finally has a voice! haha people would disown me if they saw me write that. That was my thought just now. But fuck them lol

PACMAN WIN

So this was my night (so far).

21:00 - a few minutes ago : watch boring boxing matches, waiting for Manny Pacquaio vs Ricky Hatton

A few minutes ago - a few minutes ago : bam bam bam bam, down, bam bam bam, down, bell.

BAM BAM BAM LEFT JAB + right jab + left hook + RIGHT HOOK. Bitch down. Hitman misses mark by 10 miles. PACMAN WIN. Round 2, 2:59

DUDE! That was so ANTICLIMACTIC. Hahahahahahahaha!

I wanted BLOOD, flying teeth, bursting eyelides, projectile flesh, acidic spit, dislocated jaws!