Well - it was been a while since I’ve written and not much has happened except the time has been flying by. Lupes left last Thursday and so I finally have the house to myself (although it is kind of lonely without her). We had a good time and it looks like she is getting a jobby job here in London, so hopefully there will be many more scandals just waiting to happen.

As for my time. This weekend - went on Friday night with Arlie over to the Bluebird Cafe - OK so it’s my favorite damned spot… Ate dinner and then went down the street to a little club to get a beverage when some Hugh Grant brit lookalike boys walked out and deemed the place inadequate of our attentions. They informed us that across the street was another bar/club that we should all go to. Well, even though Arlie and I look nothing like Divine Brown, we figured that we should at least Liz Hurley it around and check it out. After being invited in by a tuxedo clad bouncer we were escorted by our exceptionally intoxicated hosts downstairs. At this time, I had Hugh Grant Lookalike #2 disclose his hatred of “Yanks” and the fact that if he did live in the States that he would be a confederate. Hughy #1 proceeded to order a beverage and not have enough money for the costly £8 per glass beers. By this time I had barely taken notice of my surroundings as my eyes were adjusting to the dimly lit cellar bar. As my vision came back, I truly wished that it hadn’t. I looked around and all I saw were various short men in suits and woman outfitted in what could only be described as frocks. Arlie and I were getting mashed and bumped and stepped on to no end without even the shortest apology from any one of these fine folks. Can we say that both of us were rather annoyed at this point and it was only 5 minutes since we arrived…

Then Hugh Grant Lookalike #2 wandered over to us. I don’t even know what conversation may have been happening but it went something like every time I said something, Mr. Asshole himself felt the need to repeat words from it in his best American accent as if it was the funniest thing that he had ever heard. Pompous fuck. Needless to say, this was all a bit much and topped off by the suit clad dickheads dancing to (or shall we say attempting to dance to) Destiny’s Child it was about all I or my compadre could stand. We downed our beverages and headed home.

Saturday, got up at my usual weekend I-didn’t-party-last-night-time of 11:30. Had a craving for Satsuma, so I dragged Arlie out of her Marylebone home to meet me in Piccadilly for sushi. Ate my typical chirashi bowl and then rambled over to Vinyl Junkies to pick up some new tunes.

Bought the following:
Milk & Honey - Touch - Wave
Nick Holder - Untitled - DNH
DJ Cam - Summer In Paris - Inflammable

Chris Gray - Tried To Be Good - Deep 4 Life
Nitin Sawhney - Homelands (Joe Claussell mixes) - Spiritual Life
Jill Scott - He loves me
Osunlade - Cantos a Ochum et Oya

Then over to Waterstones and picked up some books.
Naked Lunch by Billy Burroughs
Great Expectations by Charlie Dickens
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Jazz by Toni Morrison

Took a nice long nap. Got up and went to Partridges for some brie and wine. When I got home Adam and Arlie were acallin’ so I packed up my cheese and hit the road. Ended up going to a casino in Piccadilly with Adam, Arlie, and Bill. I was rather reluctant to spend money gambling, being that I’m trying to save some cashola, but the party Stephanie took hold and I had to go out. Arrived at the casino with the full intention on losing whatever I brought. Sat down in the blackjack ‘cheap seats’ (£5 per hand) and to my surprise began winning. The casinos here are not at all like Vegas, but more like an Indian gaming hall. No alcohol allowed on the gaming floor, but free sodas abound. There is a bar on the premise, so in between dealer changes the three of us would reconvene there to talk of our winnings or in Adam and Arlie’s case - the losings.

As the night wore on and I won more money, I drank a few too many Jack and Cokes. All of a sudden it was 3 AM, with my pockets heavier by £81, and the bar closing we were stuck without a place to go. Arlie had met some boy from Boston - how she did this is a miracle since the entire casino was filled with only people with slanted eyes (I can say this without reproach because I, too, have slanted eyes) or my friendly gambling old folks. She, he, his friend, Bill and myself all formulated a plan that included a bottle of vodka and my flat. We hopped into the first mini cab that would take the 5 of us and headed off towards Gloucester Road.

In the cab my loud mouth got us in trouble with the aromatic foreign cabbie. He declared me ’sharp and rude’ and refused to take us to get beer. Then he started telling us that we were being ‘gangsters’ which was quite funny. We all exchanged words with him and got out at the tube stop. Went into the 24 hour mart and were informed that there were no alcohol sales and even our attempts at bribery were turned away. Defeated but not yet beaten we headed off down the road toward my house. Someone, could’ve been myself, had the bright idea that we could probably score a bottle from one of the many hotels on my street. With the newly formulated plan, the Bostonian cleancut Richie Rich headed into the lobby as I took off down the street towards the comfort of my bathroom. A few minutes later the clan of folks came rolling in totting vodka and cranberry juice. Score! They went to the freezer to put away their freshly bought goods and low and behold - guess what they discovered? If you guessed a full bottle of vodka that Lupe was given as a gift - then that would be correct. Imagine going through all that drama only to find that I was rather well stocked. Oh well.

Spent the rest of the evening listening to the Muppet Show song with porn playing on the TV and just being generally lame and drunk. By 8:00 am the sun was up and the house was empty at which time I vomited and passed out. Lurvely.

Woke up mid-day hurting hurting and did I say hurting? Rolled the TV into my room and passed out while watching a movie. The day was really nice - perfect London weather. I finally forced myself up at 5:30 when Colin called and decided that we would meet up for a movie in Convent Garden. Took the tube over and went to a gay bar called Box. Loads of hottie men - none of which I could have - and some good Hoegaarden beer. Ended up not going to the movie but drinking and gossiping with him until 9. We then went over to an all you can eat Sushi bar down the street. Gross. Something extremely wrong with all you can eat sushi. Got home and crawled back into bed to watch Sleepers on channel 4.