la science des reves

Went with James D. to see The Science of Sleep last night. Holy moly. I didn't really have any expectations, but I loved loved LOVED it. I know it divides audiences, and I understand some people's points about Stephane not always being a sympathetic protagonist, but I think I identified with him far too much (I spend my life in a daydream). As much as I enjoy Eternal Sunshine, I still found Science of Sleep reached me on a more emotional level than Sunshine.

I also came away with a huge girl crush on Charlotte Gainsbourg.

PS. Did you know the Borders on Charing Cross Road has now made its bathrooms for customers only? I mean, I know most stores' bathrooms are meant to be customers-only anyway, but they've now gone and put big sodding keypads and shit on them. I asked a guy that works there how to get it. "Well, have you bought anything here?" "No. I'm about to, I just reallllly have to pee first." I almost crossed my legs for extra emphasis. He told me reluctantly how to get in.

PPS. In case you were wondering, the code for the ladies is 0272. Although I don't know how often they change the code.

why temp jobs are crap

Apparently the morning would be audio typing, the afternoon would be taking some photos for the marketing company.

I don't know if I'm just a fast typer or they radically overestimated how long it would take, or perhaps both, but I'd finished all the audio stuff by 10am.

Man was today boring.

girl of my dreams

The Lula fashion week party, at the Cobden Club sponsored by, among others, Belvedere vodka and Moet & Chandon champagne.

After stressing an unbelievable amount about going (no idea what to wear, I'd only know two people at the whole party, one of whom was the hostess, the other wasn't going to be there until late), and a heart-stoppingly bad first two minutes (clutching a mini bottle of champagne while I anxiously looked around for someone I knew), I finally spied Leith sitting on the far side of the room, so headed over. She was with her cousins and told me to pull up a chair.

The rest of the evening basically involves a lot of champagne, talking with Leith and her cousins, a bit more champagne, watching Emmy the Great (adorable), losing Leith and her cousins, champagne cocktails, running into James who eventually turned up past 11, one more champagne-vodka cocktail, eventually deciding to call it a night and walking out into the pouring rain (hello London in February)... oh, and let's not forget the cupcakes. I tried to smuggle one home for my sister (aren't I a good sibling?) but just ended up getting frosting *everywhere*.

And yes, this morning was funnnn. Happy v-d everyone. Happy b-d Dandy

little miss crappy technology

I'm interviewing Toni Collette for the international DVD release of Little Miss Sunshine (although it was actually released in the UK a couple of weeks ago). The interview time has already been pushed back two hours, and now we're waiting in the hotel lounge for a few more minutes. There's been a room mix up, something to do with a television crew - and to top it all off, Mzz Collette is a bit ill.

Eventually we're called and six of us, covering different territories, file in to the conference room, introducing ourselves. This room is in the basement of the hotel and has the weirdest goddamn wallpaper. I've never done a "round table" interview in this style before; it feels a little like a seminar at university or something.

Dictaphones are turned on and slid down the table and before I even realise it, a Japanese interviewer has jumped in and is already asking questions. I'm still sitting there, notebook open, pencil in one hand, frantically trying to depress the 'Record' button on my dictaphone. It's not working. I'm scribbling down what's being said in the short hand that only I can understand that I perfected at university (just adds to that back-at-college feeling) and fiddling with the stupid brick of recorder. Finally a click, and the record button is on. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, I add my dictaphone to the small pile in the middle of the table, the journo opposite me kindly pushing it nearer to Toni.

Things are looking up.

And then a high-pitched whistling noise interrupts the room, quickly turning into a shrill scream. The sounds of a dictaphone being murdered. Everyone stops talking.

"What is that??"

"I think it might be one of the dictaphones."

Groan. "Umm, it might be mine. It wasn't working just now-" I volunteer.

The writer nearest the dictaphones is picking them up and holding them near his ear to check.

Sigh. "No, it's that one at the back."

He picks it up. He quickly puts it back down and pushes it towards me with a half-smirk. "Yes, that's the one."

Oh CRAP. "Umm, sorry, sorry guys-"

I fumble quickly for the 'Stop' button. Blessed silence.

Only now I have the rest of the interview and nothing to record it on.

Groan, sigh and double crap.

The Brazilian writer opposite grins at me. "Don't worry, I'll email you the mp3 when it's done."

I smile at him, and try to keep my head down for the rest of the interview, wishing I could throw the dictaphone (stupid Argos) at the weird wallpaper. Oy. Techmology.

The day is only redeemed later (after much wandering in the rain looking for new sneakers and/or an outfit the the fashion week party on Tuesday evening) by a hasty dinner at the Stockpot and two potent cocktails before 8pm.

Oh, and PS. Toni Collette is just as wonderful as you'd expect her to be, even jetlagged and ill.

xxEmoBabyxx

"Yeah, my favourite bands are Dashboard Confessional, My Chemical Romance, Avenged Sevenfold... When I grow up I want to be Pete Wentz..."


I know, I know, I should act the grown up, but it's still funny to give him emo hair (when it's normally like this)