torn between two mistresses

There needs to be a Blue States Lose/Cobrasnark face-off, celebrity death match stylie, very soon...

this is my life:

My sister poured a glass of water over me last night. Just because.



Ahh, the joys of living with siblings again after a six year gap...

girl of my dreams

a quick rendezvous with leith at automat on dover street, and over mojitos & chocolate martinis, the new copy of lula is passed my way...

it's a beauty, no doubt - and major kudos to my man dan for the cover shot. now go find it and buy it, all of you.

mmm cupcakes

One of my oldest friends – actually, the oldest, she’s a week older than me and I’ve known her since birth – has been back in the Smoke this week from Oop North, after ending a relationship after six and a half years. The other night was “cheer L up” night; along with another friend [with whom we formed an inseparable trio at primary school] we decided to bake cupcakes, as when they’d visited me in NY I’d taken them to Sugar Sweet Sunshine where, over mouth-wateringly amazing cupcakes, we’d discussed how we’d bring the cupcake revolution to London someday.

So back to present day, and we’re in A’s new apartment [that she’s just bought], in the process of trying to induce sugar comas by making Magnolia-recipe cupcakes and frosting [with a liberal “some frosting for the cake, some straight in my mouth” policy]. And I’m thinking, here we are, mid-20s, dealing with two adult topics – mortgages and buying a place [A], and the most significant relationship in L’s adult life ending. The kind of things Adults talk about. But then we’re also playing around with food colouring and discussing how the new Smarties look rubbish and being messy – and generally acting pretty similar to how we did when we were 8, let’s face it.

And by the time the cupcakes are actually finally done, cooked, cooled, frosted and decorated, we all felt so roundly sick from picking at the frosting and Smarties lying around that no one could even stomach one. So we left A. to try and fob them off on her roommate, while we took some back for our families, relishing the walk home over the bridge to try and burn off some of the sugar. Not that it actually worked of course, and I got home at 11:30pm with a sugar-high like 5 year old let loose in a sweet shop.

for my beloved city, on 9/11

it's as if they read my mind...

When my new roommates moved in back in January, I immediately laid down some groundrules - number one of which was: absolutely NO James Blunt to be played anywhere in the apartment or within earshot of me.

So reading the following in today's Evening Standard really did brighten up my day:

"...This Friday, the Dirty South pub, in Lee High Road [Lewisham, SE London], hosts the League Against James Blunt. The great ex-military crooner is described as a 'whiny, bland, piggy-eyed, talentless gentleman' (actually, they don't use the word gentleman) 'whose castrato warblings somehow enter the female ear, bypass the brain and go straight down to the crotch.' Despite the faint note of sexual envy, the League deserves to sweep London. I've always hated Blunt and his female counterpart, Dido - acts of essentially provincial mediocrity, acts targeted at potato heads from Kettering. They have no place in our great metropolis."

Well put. I for one will most certainly be pledging my allegiance to the League.

i heart...

matteo

born at 00:05 on september 5th 2006. welcome, lovely boy.