I am addicted to reading Perez Hilton celebrity crap. Yes, I realise that I posted in a recent message that I won’t read Metro magazine on the tube for the very reason that it is crap. But for some reason, I have to read Perez. I’ve gotten myself down to one time a week. But this is pretty pointless as I read the entire week’s posts that I missed. And I love the bitchiness of it all.

Perez Hilton is my crack.

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So I ran into Perez live and in person at The Fifth in Miami where Paris Hilton was doing some press crap. Everyone was swarming Paris while I was most impressed with Perez and I swarmed him. I think I actually offended him by telling him that his column was shit, but I couldn’t stop myself from reading it. Oh, lifes little guilty pleasures…

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The trip got off to a not so great beginning.

Issue #1: Roley was booked into a cattery in Essex. The cattery was not answering my phone calls and emails about delivering the little booger so I had to switch at the last minute. I ended up driving the dorko across London, draped in his fetish white latex with pink lining cape and dropping him off at a cattery. This wouldn’t be so bad except I nearly cried when I got there. The cat runs were outside and it is freezing in London. I had a long chat with the lady who was caring for him and decided that he would be ok after we put in a blanket and a heating pad and closed off his little cubby hole (he also has a place to run around that is quite spacious). He seemed happy enough – despite the other cats making fun of his super gay cape…

Issue #2: I was due to depart on Wednesday morning. We (Ornella and I) had rented a cute little flat in Miami from a company called Miami Lodge (www.miamilodge.com). I had paid them the deposit on my card and the other half over a month ago through a wire transfer from my account in London. I had been emailing them for the past several days, yet had heard nothing back. I started to get antsy, so I phoned them. I reached the lady and she informed me that they hadn’t received anything and I would have to pay them yet again until they got the wire transfer. Obviously I was not pleased. This resulted in several flaming bile emails threatening to track down the wire transfer and shove it up someones ass.

I decided to let it go and let God (j/k always wanted to say something super mid-western like that). I decided to tap into my super zen like nature and go to sleep. I packed and crawled into bed still looking forward to my holiday.

Issue #3: I wake up early – at 6 AM. Sorta like when you were a kid and couldn’t sleep the night before you got to go to Disneyland for the first time. Then I picked up my phone to check the time (because I don’t have an alarm clock) and saw that I had a missed call and a message. Hmm…

Checked aforementioned message. Not a nice one.

Stephanie, it’s Ornella. They won’t let me on the fucking flight. I’m not coming to Miami. Call me back.

Yes, that is correct. Ornella couldn’t get on her flight. Turns out that her passport was not a machine readable passport and Alitalia refused to let her board. This is all despite the fact that several weeks before she had gone to a passport agency and they had renewed her lame passport for another 5 years.

So this wasn’t looking very good. My cat is freezing, the flat isn’t paid for and they are trying to blackmail me for more money, and my travelling companion / Miami partner in crime can’t get on the flight. SHIT!!!

I was beginning to wonder whether I should bother going at this point. What other surprises would be in store for me next? Would I get stuck in traffic and miss the flight? Would the plane crash? Would I get stuck in an overflowing toilet? Or even worse – would the in-flight entertainment NOT WORK?

Stay tuned to find out what happened next…

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wednesday
Arrived after a long flight. Met up with D for some dinner at the lovely 11th street Diner (Jeff Peacock’s chicken wings addiction homespot). Chowed down on some super greasy potato skins and drank root beer (mmn, I miss root beer in Europe). Then headed down to the 16th anniversary of Magic Sessions (sometimes renamed Tragic Sessions). Hung out for a bit in the vip. Went home at about 3.30 exhausted.

thursday
Went down to the National to hang out poolside by blagging my way onto a chair. Sat down and started speaking to my neighbor, a guy named Jackson. I inquired whether or not Jackson thought it would rain and his response?

God doesn’t let it rain on me

Now this was one of the most ridiculous things that I have heard in a long time. But I took his word and the cabana boy’s word who told me there was only 30% chance of rain.

Two minutes later I hear someone yell…

Why God?

Yes, it started pouring down buckets and buckets of rain. Jackson and I ran off into a cabana where we ended up being stranded for an hour or so. Thankfully, my new found friend kept me company and even ordered up some beverages from the bar via his mobile. Not too bad.

Finally the rain subsided long enough for me to run inside and meet Dimitri. We went on a umbrella purchasing mission and then down to some Peruvian food at some cheap diner. I had the bistec con taku taku which was surprisingly good.

Went home to take a quick nap and get ready for the evening. Albi and Philippe were coming to town so went down to the Ritz Carlton to meet up with them. Then we went for a cocktail and onwards to the Defected party at Nikki Beach. Hung out with the boys, saw a few folks, didn’t drink much until I somehow coaxed Philippe into strawberries and champagne.

friday
sushi, BBE party

saturday
italian food, mansion, red room

sunday
Poolside ritz. Paris hilton party

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Seriously. Arrested Development is the best show that has been put out … well, pretty much ever. I can’t even begin to explain the show to you. All I can say is that if you don’t watch it, then I don’t want to be your friend.

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one night to be confused
one night to speed up truth
we had a promise made
four hands and then away

both under influense
we had demons in
to know what to say
mind is a razorblade

to call for hands of above
to lean on
wouldn’t be good enough
for me, no

one night of magic rush
the start of simple touch
one night to psch and scream
and make belives.

ten days of perfect tunes
the colors red and blue
we had a promise made
we were in love

to call for hands of above
to lean on
wouldn’t be good enough
for me, no

to call for hands of above
to lean on
wouldn’t be good enough
for me, no

and you, you knew you had to fight devil
and you, kept us away with wolf teeths
sharing different heartbeats
in one night

to call for hands of above
to lean on
wouldn’t be good enough
for me, no

to call for hands of above
to lean on
wouldn’t be good enough
for me, no

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Only 2 more days of work left before I get to take off on the annual trip to Miami for Winter Music Conference. FINALLY. Miami is the kick-off every year to Spring.

Yipee. Hanging out with Ornella for a week! Going to parties. Sitting in the sunshine. Paying for things in $ dollars (exchange rate £1 = $1.76).

This will be the 6th year of Miami. Yep – been going to since 2000.

Highlights from the years:

2000 – Met Jeff
2001 – Met Ornella and Cosmo through Marco
2002 – Love is Special year
2003 – Giles and the Penthouse
2004 – Staying in a loud hotel with Ornella
2005 – Ghetto fabulous with Gbemi and Allison
2006 – More memories to be had…

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I’ve been trying to pinpoint the date that I actually published my first website. It was so awesome. Called Stephanie’s Spot. Seriously – the design was great. All with hand html because in those days, kids, there were not WYSIWYG editors unless you count something like Hot Dog Editor v 1.0. You got notepad and you figured it out. Animated gifs were the shiz.

Back then there were not really people publishing sites. I remember searching for someone to host my site and even that was not such a common experience for regular people to partake in. Businesses – maybe. For personal use and some dumb site for a teenage girl? Not really.

I remember when Netscape Navigator 2.0 came out and I downloaded it on my 28.8k modem which took about 8 hours. How excited was I that day? So excited!

I suppose I have been geeking since I was a kid thanks to the influence of Bob and Uncle Kenneth (Tandem Computers 1970s ubernerd). Yes, I am born into a familiy of nerds.

I remember being 4 years old – which would put us at about 1980 – and using my dad’s Televideo computer to play stock market games.

My first personal computer (meaning Bob didn’t use it) was an Apple IIC. I used to code BASIC when I was 7 for the hell of it. And I used to kick Graham’s ass at Chopper (actually a lie).

So all i’ve found thusfar is my dad’s website on the wayback machine dated Dec 1996 that is pointing to my site. I guess this puts my first published personal site back to around May 1996 or slightly earlier.

The url was www.digitaldaze.com/stephy/steph.htm (how great that my file structures were so bad).

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I think that I lack a bit of balance and consistency in my life. Really. I can’t seem to balance things very well. Either I am trapped in the depths of work and this consumes my brain or I am self-absorbed with some random project of mine (of which I have many). I lack the balance to not burn myself out on one end or the other.

And for those of you who really know me, you will know that boredom plays a big role in my life.

I hate to be bored. I like to keep my mind occupied. I want to stay busy.

I make stupid lists upon lists of things to do. Even lists about things to think about.

And when I get bored? Well… then I move on to the next thing. This applies to many things in my life. Some might call it multi-tasking and consider it an asset while I call it old-fashioned A.D.D.

I don’t think that I am alone in this “life attention deficit disorder” of mine. I think that perhaps I am partially a victim of my generation. Too much leisure, too much easy input – whether it be voluntary or involuntary. Technology moves so rapidly that the human mind has adapted its processor to keep up. We are constantly barraged with EVERYTHING. Input input input. Brains have gone from 2400 baud to broadband. Survival of the fittest and all that.

I need a disconnect. I need to be stuck in a depravation tank.

Which is why my colleagues at Skype took it upon themselves to check me into an Estonian style dark room for a chillout session…

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see how relaxed i am now?

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There are many joys to owning a cat.

He never talks back (well, mostly never)

He gives unconditional love (because he wants food)

He keeps your feet warm on those cold London nights

He purrs when you look at him…

But there is one huge downfall to having a cat. And that is CAT POO.

I suppose that letting your cat outdoors to run around in the streets has some advantages to it in the fact that they go and poop in your neighbor’s yard.

But Roley is the master poop maker. It is unbelievable how much this cat goes.

The only thing that is keeping me from throwing him out the window is this cool new invention that I bought on (none other than) eBay.

The Litter Locker.

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The Litter Locker is saving my and Roley’s relationship. Because I really couldn’t take cleaning out his poop every day and then dragging that stinky bag downstairs in the freezing cold. Yep, that is right. I can store it up!

It actually sounds a lot grosser than it is.

The Litter Locker really does stop the smelly stuff. And I just scoop it in there. Quick and simple.

WAY COOL!

Get one here

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