I am currently sitting on the number 7 bus on my way to work in the morning. And guess what I’m doing? Yes, I’m writing this post. And not a post that will be posted later, but one that will be updated while I am sitting on the bus.

How is this possible you may ask?

Through little miracles of modern technology like my new t-mobile web n walk pcmcia datacard that serves up some high speed access through UMTS technology. All of this excitement at only £20 a month for unlimited usage.


I think I am in love…

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Check it out – Roley’s twin is in a video that talks about how Sphynx cats are very demanding and playful (sounds a bit like me). I bet Arlie could have made this video since Roley is always stalking her and sitting outside her door staring at it until she opens it then he attacks her.

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Have returned from the weekend in Croatia. Here is a little sneak peak of the fun…

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I was sitting at user testing on Tuesday, feeling a little bit down and out when I received a call from Albi who happens to be on hiatus in Salzburg for the summer while he awaits his work visa to go back to the States. He asked me what I was up to for the weekend and then told me that he and his girlfriend, Sophie, were going to the family house in Croatia for a week and would I like to go. Obviously, two seconds later I had a flight booked and only then did I realise that I had this pesky little thing called work to deal with. Thankfully after begging and promising to go to an Internet cafe in Croatia I was given the OK.

Croatia or bust baby.

Then Thursday rolled around and all of this craziness started at the airports here in London. Every Easy Jet flight was cancelled and everyone was freaking out. I wasn’t too sure how things would be looking on Friday, but I was hoping for the best. Left work at 2pm for my 6pm flight out of Luton (conveniently located in BFE). Arrived and there were insane queues, but still didn’t take too long to check in. The only annoying part was that they took away all of my carry on and sent me through security with a plastic bag. The weird thing is that once you go through customs you can buy anything you want and take it on the plane. Great for retail at the airport I guess. Bought some really cute Carvella shoes – heels, green, patent leather.

Flight took off without a hitch. Arrived at the Rijeka airport that resembled Fresno Air Terminal. Got through customs and then outside to meet Albi who was picking me up. Sat down and waited. No one. Called the mobile and was greeted by Benji the Navigator who told me that the troops were on the way, I just had to sit tight and wait. And wait I did. I waited until everyone left the airport and they closed up and turned off the lights. Only me and the crickets. Chirp chirp chirp.

Finally a van came rambling down the road and stopped in front of me. And out poured 6 crazy people yelling and dropping bottles of wine. The crew had arrived! They came in full force with Vanessa, Stefan, Sophie, Albi, Thomas and Benji.


Next thing we are in the van driving around Rijeka completely and totally lost. But at least we had beverages in the back and some Snopp Dogg to keep us company. Drove around for about 1 1/2 hours before we finally made it back to our homestead near Porec.

Arrived at 1.30 am to the villa and whipped up a fantastic meal of pasta and then Benji and I got onto the bottle of grappa. Which we managed to finish off by ourselves. A bottle of vodka magically appeared and we started on that. The evening was a little bit rainy and there was some tremendous lightning going on outside so we ventured under the covered patio and checked it out. Then off to bed for some rest.


My room was really cute with two single beds and one of the only bathtubs in the place. The only thing that had me sketched out was that the boys had told me to be sure to check my shoes for scorpions before I put them on. Great. This got stuck in my head and I was checking my bed, my socks, my bad, everything for scorpions the entire time. Needless to say, I never saw even one of the bastards.

Woke up at about 11:30 the next morning. Hey, what can I say, I was jetlagged being 1 hour behind my normal schedule. Went down to breakfast and found my little egg and toast waiting for me. Everyone else had been up for the past hour or so and were done eating. My head was a little big groggy, but I was coping. Went back to my room and grabbed my book, Fashion Babylon, and when I came out the entire group was standing at the entrance to the courtyard dressed and ready to go. Oops, Albi had somehow forgotten to tell me that we were taking a trip into Rovinj for some lunch and wandering…

Arrived in Rovinj and had trouble finding parking. Drove around for what seemed like an eternity before just leaving the bus somewhere. Walked along the waterway and took in the sights. Cute little town albeit filled with Germans and Italian tourists. The weather wasn’t so great on Saturday, but given that most of us were suffering from hangovers (a recurring theme to this tale) it was OK. Had a crap lunch, took a ton of band photos, got blistered feet in the new heels, then passed out in the car on the way back to the house.


Took a little disco nap in my room then went into the main house where I was greeted by a nice little fire in the fireplace and some wine. The rest of the troops began arriving from Austria. Mike and Melanie after their 8 hour adventure. Followed by Basti, Sophie and Karina completely soaked from the pouring down rain. Albi and Sophie whipped up an amazing dinner of freshly killed (by Albi) deer, potatoes au gratin and a complete gazpacho bar. After dinner was done we, obviously, delved into the vodka and gin and got the party started. Somewhere in between there and 6 am when we all went to sleep, Christoph showed up. Lots of random pictures were taking including some gummy bear gang bang (no idea what was going on), band photos and videos. Totally HILARIOUS (word of the weekend).


Sunday, again, missed breakfast, but had my egg layed out for me. The day was totally sunny so we all donned our swimsuits and went out back to the gorgeous pool. Spent the day listening to Al Green, talking tons of garbage, reading, eating and drinking Becks. The boys played frisbee and I stepped on snails non-stop. Gross.


Sunday evening, dinner at a local restaurant. The best truffle and noodles EVER. Fantastic steak tartar prepared at our table and lots of fresh amazing sea food. Did a little pron shoot. More grappa and more wine. Everyone was feeling pretty tired and rough, but we all made it through. Grappa woke us up and back at the house the party kicked off again.


Ended the evening by watching another lightning storm and then decided I couldn’t take it anymore at about 6 and passed out.

Monday had to some work so headed into Porec with Mike and Melanie. Spent the morning trying to find an internet cafe. Nearly impossible! Finally found one complete with Skype and sat down to try to do some damage control on my abandoned project. Met up with the rest of the crew and had a large pina colada (that tasted like ass).


Finally the time came for me to head home. Albi didn’t want to get lost on the way to the airport so we ordered a cab. Took more band photos with everyone in the courtyard and then the cab arrived. Cab got lost for 1 hour and ended up costing me £120 to get to Rijeka. 🙁 Flight was delayed and finally ended up getting home safe and sound in London at about 2 am.

Exhausted but happy. Great time with great people.

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Went to go see the Junior Boys last night in Kilburn with Michael O. We can start off by saying that live shows in the UK are a bit strange because no one really dances or reacts at all. They all just sort of stand there barely bobbing their heads in appreciation. No mosh pits or anything severe like that. Not that Junior Boys would constitute the kind of music that you could start a mosh pit to.

The venue was a little place up on Kilburn High Street in NW6 called the Lumiere. Small venue. The place was pretty packed. Mainly white boy graphic designer cool kids. I started to get clausterphobic when I realised that everyone was about 6′ tall and I was standing in the middle of them staring up at the back of their necks. Plus people kept crowding in front of me and mashing my bag. Even the girls were freakishly large!

The band was pretty good. I never know what to call “acts” that have one dude that plays with a Mac the entire time. Is that a band, an act, a group? OK, they did have a guitar and a drummer as well… I’d only been introduced to their album the day before so I didn’t have that much exposure to what I was getting myself into when I accepted the invitation. The music can be (sort of) summed up by calling it pop synth with some funky bass lines on the level of Postal Service. The lead singer has a great voice – as Michael O pointed out – soothing.

My only complaints about the evening (of course there have to be complaints, it’s me, isn’t it!) are that there were so many guys staring at the band it was like a sausage fest. But a sausage fest that had the added element that every single male in the entire venue had a manbag with him. Yes, the old manbag is so in fashion in London that I was getting bumped by them left and right. What’s up with that? There were some guys that had bags that so closely resembled a purse that I had to laugh at them.

Next complaint – and this is more generalised towards any live shows and bands – I hate encores. Why do bands bother doing this? It just annoys me. And you KNOW that they are going to do it so why waste my time. The Grateful Dead never did encores. I respected them for that. If I ever find another band that doesn’t bother I will go to their shows…

And that’s all I got to say about that.

Listen to a track from Junior Boys

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Went bowling with Arlie the other day. Kicked ass at it. 188. 6 strikes. Damn it that felt good!


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How is this for a targeted advertisments? SPREAD FEAR SO THEY CONSUME! In case you don’t live in London and your life is not threatened, you can go to the movies and experience the horrifying drama for yourselves courtesy of Oliver Stone.


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I get bored if I’m not moving around. B O R E D. If I am in town for more than 2 weeks I start to feel very antsy. Looked at my travel schedule from when I moved to London. I guess it isn’t that of a normal person, but I hardly notice what is normal these days.

  • Tallinn: 18-25 October
  • Tallinn: 11 November-9 December
  • Los Angeles: 1 December-5 December
  • Tallinn: 20 December-23 December
  • Shanghai / Beijing: 24 December 2 January
  • Barcelona: 6 January-8 January
  • Tallinn: 10 January-18 January
  • Turning the big 30 in Barcelona: 27-30 January
  • Tallinn: 1-3 February
  • Tallinn: 8-9 February
  • Tallinn: 1-3 March
  • Tallinn: 15-17 March
  • Miami WMC: 22-30 March
  • Tallinn: 10-13 April
  • Ireland: 14 April (this trip was cut a little short due to technical difficulties)
  • Barcelona – Giles Big Gay 40th: 4-7 May
  • Tallinn: 16-19 May
  • Barcelona – Word of Mouth conference: 18-19 May
  • Tallinn: 19-22 June
  • Tallinn: 6-9 July
  • Tarragona, Spain – Tim and Fee’s wedding: 18-23 July
  • Tallinn: 31 July – 4 August

    And I’m off again this weekend to hang with the Austrians for some fun in the sun!

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    Summer has been so awesome in London. I have been enjoying every day that it is warm and I can wear flip-flops and shorts and tank tops. I even bought a new pair of sunglasses after I stupidly left mine at the fag Clive’s house in Barcelona during Giles’ birthday weekend.

    Everyone in London is in such a great mood when the weather is nice. I know I’ve said it before, but it is so true. You really feel like going out every night, eating dinner on sidewalk cafes and sipping some rose wine. Pretty much like 8 months of the year in Barcelona…

    But thinking about it today, I realised why I am enjoying the summer months and weather so much. And it comes down to the fact that I haven’t had one painful episode this summer so far. There have been a few days when I felt under the weather, but there haven’t been any days when I couldn’t walk or my throat felt like it was going to explode or the general malaise that I feel during the winter. My hands have still gotten quite swollen and sometimes quite painful, but compared to what I went through last winter this is a blessing.

    Now if they would only fix the air conditioning in the office so my fingers didn’t go numb things would be great! I just need great weather 12 months of the year and my world will be beautiful and bright.

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    Geez. This post has been a long time stuck in my head and I’ve never written it. It is a hard one for me because there is so much to say and I hardly know where to begin.

    My Grandma Ginger played a huge role in my childhood and probably on the person that I’ve become. Bigger than huge. Some family members actually used to deem me a living reincarnation of Grandma Ginger (before she had even passed).


    I adored Ginger so much. When I was growing up on the chicken farm in hicksville Reedley, she was the bright and fabulous, bedangled in gold jewelry, glamorous woman that lived next door to us on the ranch. A woman that would get her hair done in town every week. A woman that would read novels non-stop. Yes, my Grandma, who at 80 years old drove a Camero with the license plate HIYAGINGA. And the same woman that had boyfriends well into her 80s (my grandfather died the year that I was born).

    Ginger was not an easy woman to get along with. I’m sure that her boys and my mother can attest to that. She had her Gingerisms. I’m sure they would say that she was demanding, spoiled and self-centered. But all those traits are things that a child doesn’t neccesarily see in someone that you idolise. And I really did idolise her…

    GG used to take me into town with her on her weekly hair trips. On trips to visit her girlfriends in town. To the library to pick up her weekly read. She put up with Graham and I on our afternoon visits when we arrived home from school to torment her. She would scream at us for the crap that we used to ask her – things like “Grandma, when you die can I have your car?” (that one caused us to be booted from her house).

    Every year she would buy us birthday cards and put money into them. She was an avid magazine shopper – the woman would receive no less than 50 catalogues per week in the mail.

    She loved to play gin rummy. Graham and I used to win all the time until she finally figured out that we could see the reflection of the cards in her glasses and cheat.

    Ginger loved her dogs. She always had a dog. Max, the one I remember best, was a stupid Irish Setter that my entire family hated. And when I say he was stupid…I mean STUPID. He once was lost for a few days because he had gone down to the pond and when it started raining he got stuck in the mud. Her last dog was some freak whose previous owners had its barker removed so he just made a horrible sound like arfff all the time. But she loved the dumb, pathetic mutts regardless.

    Every year on her birthday she insisted that we all take her into Reedley to the Bear Club for dinner. Everyone (my dad and his brothers) hated these trips and complained non-stop about them, but everyone always went. Every year on Mother’s Day we used to have to go to the Sherwood Inn which always resulted in Uncle David making some drunken rant that we’d all roll our eyes at. When we were younger the best part about these trips was drinking Shirley Temples. Another thing that I’m reminded of is the overpowering smell of Grandma’s perfume. The woman knew how to pack it on!

    One tradition that Grandma Ginger had in our family was to call all the boys on the day after Thanksgiving and say to them (as if they didn’t know after years of saying this), “Do you know that today is the biggest shopping day of the year?” I have taken over that tradition and try to continue that every year…

    Grandma also used to make these embroidered calendars, stockings and knitted blankets. On the calendars there were little sequins where your birthday was marked. Somehow when these calendars were hung on the wall throughout the year you felt a little special when you would see your little sequin. Grandma loved you and remembered you. Graham also has his very special little blankey that Grandma made for him. I’m sure he still has it. A dark and light blue blanket that he used to share a corner with me when I was a baby.

    As Grandma got older and I moved far away I saw a lot less of her. Not that I didn’t think of her and send postcards and letters. And she started getting older. A lot older than I ever remembered her to be. The last time I went to visit her she was having trouble remembering who I was. She would say to me, “You are so beautiful, what is your name again?” and then there were moments when she would remember me. It broke my heart.

    When Grandma finally suffered a stroke and complications and was on her death bed I refused to go and see her. That may sound callous and cold to some people. But to me it made sense. And it is something that I live with and I don’t regret doing.

    My Grandmother was a vain and beautiful person. I know that. I knew her. There is a lot of me that was learned by watching her when I grew up. And knowing that, I chose not to go and see her in that state. I chose not to remember her by seeing a shell of what she would want to be remembered as. I chose to keep her memory – her dignity and her beauty – in my heart as she would want me to remember her.

    I really think that she would have gotten a kick out of who I’ve become and the adventures that I’ve had. I still have dreams about her. It is funny that so much of your childhood comes back to you in dreams. And she does – just as I remember her – with her done up hair, her gold rings, her smile. My Grandma Ginger.

    Georgia Rose Robesky
    30 August 1907 to 28 July 2000

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