Those Awkward Moments When...

I always laugh at others when they greet someone but are unsure whether to do it with a hug, kiss or shake hands. Then get it wrong. At the wedding this weekend, it was rife. There was one instance when the groom's mother came over and greeted us with a kiss on the cheek. Then another friend came over and greeted her with a hand shake. Everyone thought he was a bit odd.

I also saw another friend's mother who was wearing a huge hat and as I went to give her a kiss, she said, 'It will have to be an air kiss because of the hat.' I persevered, unsure of whether she was joking or not and then tried to laugh it off when I realised she was clearly being serious.

However worse than both of these are times when you are unsure whether to say 'Hello' to someone or not. Like this morning.

I saw a girl I worked with about three years ago and although we are friends on Facebook, we never speak. We have bumped into each other once or twice at a gig or screening, but this morning, as she was walking towards me, I felt unsure whether I should say 'Hello' or not. So instead I half smiled hoping that would cover both outcomes.

She was almost level with me and we hadn't said 'Hello', so I carried on thinking it wasn't going to happen. Then just as we were passing each other she waved and said 'Hello', but in a 'Oh, were you not going to say 'Hello'?' kind of way.

Cue me feeling like shit.

Dreams suck!

Last night I dreamt that I was on the verge of a relationship with an old school friend. I remember having very strong feelings for him at school and would say that it was probably the closest I had been to love even though he was straight and ironically at the time so was I.

But I dreamt that we were sharing a bed and held hands. Then we began to kiss but he got freaked out as he realised he had feelings for me but couldn't come to terms with it.

I even 'woke up' in my dream and was elated when I realised that it was true in real life. I wasn't dreaming, I was actually in this situation. He did actually have feelings for me.

Then I DID wake up and realised it was alll a lie. :(

Tips for Flip-Flops

I bought some flip flops in Brazil back in March and have only recently started wearing them.

Everytime I do, I regret it. This morning I walked into work and got blisters. Big blisters. Small blisters. Blisters between my toes. Blisters on top of my foot.

I've always thought that my feet would just deal and toughen up.

But today I went off to Covent Garden for lunch and I got more blisters. Only this time I had blisters on blisters. I had big blisters on bigger blisters which eventually popped - soaking my flip flop in puss.

It was only this afternoon, when inspecting my feet, that I realised the flip flops were actually two sizes for me. Nice going.

Enough already

This attracted 2 complaints and so it has been withdrawn.

Stop the madness.

The Wedding

This weeked I went to the wedding of one of my oldest friends in Sandwich. I had been a bit apprehensive just because I had a vision of it being a tad pretentious. Not because of the people who were getting married just because it was a wedding in general and I thought that was the point of weddings.

I also knew that it would involve seeing parents of old school friends and coming out to a bunch more people that I couldn't really be bothered with.

But instead, it wasn't about me, it was surprisingly enough about the couple getting married. It was the perfect day. I drove down with three other friends, got changed into our morning suits and sat in the church. It was the hottest day of the year so far and everyone was waving their programmes like we were in some Baptist church in the Deep South. I half expected someone to collapse in the aisle after being touched by God or perhaps more likely being overly de-hydrated.

As soon as the bride walked down the aisle, I surprised myself and began to cry. Sadly not the only time it happened that day.

We then moved to the bride's parent's garden and had drinks and dinner. There was then a speech where I cried again as the groom ran out of words to describe his new wife.

Later on they drove along the beach in her father's Aston Martin, with the sun slowly setting and everyone waving them off.

So, what I have learned is that not only do I want to get married in a church but I also want to get married to a girl so she can wear a lovely dress. Guys' suits are so borning.

Does that sound complex enough?

Strangers in the Night

The other night I went to see Ladytron at Tottenham Court Road's Astoria. It was a gig they were supposed to do back in June but ironically the amp blew up during a track called Soft Power. Anyway they were very good and I enjoyed it.

What I enjoyed almost as much was the hot guy on the tube on my journey home. He was tall, broad, dark, wore a white T shirt and jeans with no belt which allowed for a flash of his white D&G pants every so often. This happened mostly when he leant against the glass in the vestibule area, squashing his T shirt up and showing his pants. Nice.

I was going to try and take a subtle photo as I figured that would be fun...and I was drunk. But when I realised the couple opposite had sussed what I was up to, I hesitated and missed my opportunity. He moved and sat down at the next stop. So all I got to take was this...



Still fun, no?

So you had a bad day...

Never in my life did I think I would be referencing a Daniel Powter track. Eeessshh.... But today has been manic and it's not even a Monday.

Everything was fine at the weekend. Well, I say 'fine'. What I actually mean is that after all the excitement of Friday I had an epileptic fit, dropped my computer and no longer have internet at home. But that you already knew.

No today has been much worse. It started when I opened my account to 20 emails, all of them asking me to do stuff asap. Then I called someone who I thought was a technician and started slagging off the management. Only to realise I was in fact talking to management. They were very impressed. Not. They actually called me back ten minutes later asking me if I realised who I had been speaking to. Cue me talking rubbish hoping to cover my tracks.

The day shows no signs of getting better. Although I have signed myself up for My Single Friend so hopefully I might meet someone on there who I can hop into the sunset with.

What's worse, I am so stressed, I think this was a dull post. I should have spoken about my naked shoot which gets published today. That will have to come later.

My Trip to Paris

Annoyingly I had been writing pages and pages about all this during my time in Paris. It was intersting. Instead this Paris going to have to be all one post and I will probably only remember the basics which are usually the dull parts. Although you could argue no part of this trip was dull.

I had written my notes in France but since dropping my computer on Saturday, I no longer have a hard drive. So I no longer have my photos, my music, and well, my life. *throws head back in horror*

But basically last week was a blast. I got commissioned by a magazine to interview Francois Sagat, so rather than do it on the phone I figured I'd bunk off for the day and take off to Paris to meet him...in the flesh. Grrr...

I was like a giddy kid. I had first class transport there and then got lost on the Metro for about an hour. It is possibly the most baffling transport system in the world. Numbers AND colours? What's that about??

After an hour in Le Centre Pompidou I went to Les Arts Et Metiers. I was there an hour early so I could have a drink and be slightly more at ease for the interview. But I needn't have worried too much, I sat outside the bar and he just bounded over. I say bounded, as he was short and he just kinded of rolled over with all this positive energy.

I'm aware how wanky that last sentence sounded but my old boss' line always rings in my head before an interview, "Never interview a hero as you will always be disappointed." So it was nice to know this was not going to be one of those times. I could tell as he looked both ways and then ushered me across the road that it was going to be everything I had hoped.

Well this time it was far from disappointment. We talked about sex, the tattoo on his head, his porn career, Carla Bruni, modelling, what it's like getting pissed on, music, actresses, gay men and their divas and of course Britney, Lindsay and Madonna.

He would ask me questions and finish sentences with, in a deep French accent, 'Don't you think?' We high fived across the table as we both realised we had never had a real relationship.

Once it has been printed I will post more of it...

How can this be true?

What the hell is going on with the world?

Shopping

This evening I found myself walking down Oxford Street and saw that Zavvi had a sale on.

I went to investigate and found there was no order to anything. The shelves were a mess. The Very Best of Hall & Oates was next to Ricky Martin. The Greatest Hits of Blur nestled alongside countless copies of Prince's Dirty Mind and Jennifer Lopez Como Ama Una Mujer.

Curiously I may despise going through racks and racks of clothes but when it comes to CDs, I love looking through boxes, shelves, racks and any other kind of display unit. If it's a sale then ironically I tend to avoid the ones that are out on display as that would be too easy.

So today after a quick scan followed by a more thorough scan and then one final scan, I bought the following...

Ike & Tina Turner - River Deep Mountain High

Cat Power - The Greatest

Matmos - The Rose Has Teeth In The Mouth Of A Beast

Janet Jackson - All For You

Yes, I am a little embarassed by the last one, that is why I mentioned it last.

The new office

We moved office on Friday. This office has 90 people, plays Gill Scott Heron and has toilets that work. It has hot straight boys and people give you cake on a daily basis. We also have personal phone lines and get to leave our own voice mail messages.

I only had to say, "Hi this is ******* at ***-***, I'm out of the office right now but leave me a message and your number and I'll give you a call when I get back" but somehow it took me four attempts. Here's a picture from our office.



We also have some stuffed birds. Hurrah!



Here is a postcard **** gave me today to celebrate moving in.



We even have a Japanese store round the corner that sells Kawaii Japanese stuff. *** said I should buy some sunglasses but I pointed out that since Kanye west wore them in that video, everybody has been wearing them and they are no longer hip.

If only it were true

Last night I dreamt that I suddenly received a text message from Girls Aloud saying, *note it was definitely all lower case* " of course you can come! unfortunately i only have ten places. love cheryl. xx"

It turned out it was an invite to her wedding. Except deep down I knew it couldn't be, as she is already married, and that actually it was an invite to Coleen and Wayne's wedding. But this did not stop me telling everyone that Cheryl had invited me to her wedding.

The invite said, "formal suits" so I was relieved that I didn't need to wear a morning suit. For some reason I was in a car park though and I wouldn't have had time to go home to get any clothes. As it turned out I had my brown suit in the car so I could wear that, but I had no shirt, and as i couldn't go home, I was walking round wearing just the waistcoat wondering if I looked ok. I didn't have the right shoes either.

But I saw a bunch of people I actually know in real life and was telling them all where I was going.

Then I started to stress about wedding presents. As can happen in dreams, I was suddenly in my Grandparents' house and was asking them if I could take something of theirs. Grandma gave me some weird vase thing, actually was it a lamp, I can't remember. But then I realised I was going to be late and I was trying to figure out how to wrap it up. I then remembered I had already bought them a present. It was a Beatrix Potter set. A set of what I'm not sure but a set nonetheless and I think it involved Hunker Munker.

Then I remember being in an old house, popssibly still my Grandparents's house, and there was a squeak. It turned out some woman behind a desk was stroking a mouse, which was strapped up with a wire. The woman then said, 'Number 37, sir? Just one second.' Then the mouse scuttled off down a pipe and apparently it went to connect the wire like a switchboard.

It's not over yet. Next thing I know I am outside a building and I can't stop screaming along to 'Sixteen Going On Seventeen.' I run along to where I don't know and realise I have forgtten something. i turn around and carry on singing it past a school trip who are standing outside the building. I then see Liszl and Rolf singing it and running into a conservatory.

The last part I am standing at a bar on a beach. There's a journalist there I know who looks very uncomfortable in a bikini. I order a rum and coke and the bartender thinks about asking me for ID. As I walk away I see a colleague I used to work with then I wake up.

But still singing 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen.'

I need a diary

This evening I was expecting to see Stephanie McKay in concert. Instead I baked chocolate cornflake cakes for the office, did some washing and made spaghetti carbonara. Unfortunately I made too much spaghetti, or had too little sauce, either way it was a wholly unsatisfactory experience. But not wanting to throw it away I have saved the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. So I have that to look forward to...and chocolate cornflake cakes for dessert!

But, I digress, what I am trying to say is that the gig wasn't till next weekend.

This is a shame because I could have brought you more sterling footage captured courtesy of my mobile phone. But instead I'll show you a clip from Lykke Li performing at the ICA a couple of weeks ago.



Next week I will try to remember to take my camera.

It's a Family Affair

This feels a bit of a shit title but really that's what it was - my cousin's 21st. There were 17 of us in this little pub in the middle of nowhere. I usually hate these sort of occasions as it involves lying about my sexuality, avoiding the fact that I write for gay magazines and just trying to be the model grandson. It's tedious but I don't think the grandparents would get it and I see them, like, four times a year so I can put on the show. That is, I'm sure, what they would rather see anyway.

One Christmas we went to my Grandma's for Boxing Day lunch. she has always been quite detatched and a little cold. She's had some seriously hard times in her life so I put it down to that but I never really get it. Anyway we were sitting round the dining room table, when we have the following converstaion...

ME: June (she hates 'Grandma'), do you still watch Eastenders?

June: Oh no, ever since they started dealing with incest and queers, I stopped watching.

I was firstly offended that a gay could make her stop watching a TV show but then I was doubly offended when a friend pointed out that she equated committing incest with being gay. Er....?

Anyway yesterday, completely out of the blue, she said to me, 'You are special, please let's arrange a meeting soon.'

I was very confused by the sudden warm gesture. At least I hope it was a warm gesture. I hope she didn't mean I was special, as in special needs.

And what about the word 'meeting'? What's with the formalities? What about tea and scones, cumcumber sandwiches and a slice of Battenburg?

Anyway, I'm now off to the gym, where rather than watching family dramas on the Eastenders omnibus, I will think about yesterday and all my own family dramas. As long as I don't end up crying on the exercise bike like I did three weeks ago while watching a Gwen Stefani video, we're ok. That really was tragic and does not need a repeat performance.

Then I am coming home to make cakes and then am seeing Stephanie McKay at Dingwalls.

In the meantime here is a Blondie video apropos of nothing...

In my day insults were insults

Some kids just have no idea, do they?

Tonight I left Sainsbury's Finchley Road, weighed down with my shopping including a Chinese Stir-Fry, some Sainsburys Washing Tablets and two pints of semi-skimmed milk when just to give me that added boost, it started to piss it down.

I walked quicker and overtook three kids in their grey tracksuits, with their hoods pulled up. One said, "Good day to wear a T shirt, hey?"

Hoodie Number Two said, "That's so bad."

Oh, sorry, was that supposed to be an insult? I must have missed it.

The first one then said, "What's he going to do? Put down his handbag?" First of all it was my gym bag not a handbag and second of all, is that truly the best they could come up with?

I didn't retort as it wasn't even worthy of a comeback...plus I couldn't think of one quick enough. :(

James

This post will be very annoying as I am currently lacking a shift key and not all the keys work. Suck is life, or even such is life, in a new office with a makeshift computer.

About two weeks ago I slept with a guy called James. He came back and stayed at mine and although he seemed a nice guy, in the morning I was ready for him to leave. But he wasn't. Being really hung over, tired and unable to get involved in a converstaion, I said, 'I'm going to put on some music.'

Big mistake.

James then talked to me in depth about his music career and how he had recently performed at a bar in Soho. He showed me his MySpace but it wasn't really my bag.

Instead I told him I needed to get up and go to the gym so he left.

Then this week, I was clearing out my emails when I found an email from a year and a half ago saying, 'Hey Michael, it was great to meet you last night, as promised here is my MySpace address - www.myspace.com/**********. Thanks, James.'

Yes it was the same James.

What's weirder still, is that he's tracked me down on Facebook and added me as a friend. He's also asked me to be a member of his group.

I was happy for the friend request but I drew the line at joining his group. I figured he wouldn't notice so I clicked 'decline.' The next day I logged on and he had asked me again!

Now the invite is just sitting there being left unanswered. I am unsure what to do.

Would you...?

OK, so this was fun the first time but our computer has just screwed up and we have lost it all. So it may be a little less funny the second time.

We have just moved office and while other people are seting up their computers, cleaning their desks and christening the toilets me and a good friend are discussing the merits of being Barbra Streisand's daughter.

ME: Would you lose a toe to be Barbra Streisand's daughter?

RL: No.

ME: Would you bear an unsightly scar on your left arse cheek to be Barbra Streisand's daughter?

RL: It's a no to all disabilities.

ME: Would you give up being the godmother to your best friend's unborn daugter to be Barbra Streisand's daughter?

RL: Hell, yeah!

ME: We have a winner.

Am I homophobic?

Over the last few weeks this ad has been causing a WHOLE load of controversy...



There seem to be two opinions on this:

- that it is promoting homosexuality and offensive to people. It means that parents may have to explain to their children why two men are kissing.

- that it is not offensive, that is just a bit of harmless fun and was only intended to be amusing. If it encourages people to talk to their children about adults' relationships then so much the better although seeing as it was specifically shown after the watershed, it is likely no kids would have seen it.

Anyway I find myself torn between the two. I may be a gay man but I feel that if parents want to teach their kids about being gay then that is great but it is their option, they shouldn't be forced. That said, the ad is hardly representing a gay relationship.

Ultimately, what I feel is, that both parties just need to chill the fuck out.

With this however I hold no sympathy. I feel they give gays a bad name.

Bad gays!!

"This explains so much"

Last night I was out with people from work when we started reminiscing about childhood toys. I remembered how I used to have a hoard of trolls who all had realtionships with each other, which invariably involved affairs, bastard children and even the odd spot of incest. The girls then confessed that the things they had their Ken do to Barbie would make them blush now.

I recalled how my Ultimate Warrior doll eloped with Lisa Simpson. The two ran away against Homer's approval and got married. It was then that we all started talking about wrestlers and I explained how I had loads of the cards on my wall in a chart of who was my favourite. Needless to say Ultimate Warrior never moved from the much coveted top spot.

Back then I always liked the bright colours but now I can see an uncanny resemblance between my Ultimate Warrior doll who looked like this...



and possibly my biggest crush of all time who looks a little like this...



*Does best Carrie Bradhaw impression* Could it really be that the toys we play with as a child define what we find attractive as an adult?

My other guilty pleasure who I actually remember finding attractive, age 10, is this fella, The Million Dolar Man.

Ways to tell I'm drunk No. 19, 433

Tonight I asked my Mum if she wore some S&M rubber boots to Wisley flower show before telling her I had a monster crush on a porn star.

Oh Happy Day!

Things have got better today. It seems like my career is not in the crapper. There is light at the end of the tunnel. The dark cloud has a silver lining. *Insert your own cliché here*

Here is the first song that sprang to mind, but like yesterday's, besides the title, it has absolutely nothing to do with me. But Elvis sure is one cool muthaf*cka.

What I gotta do to get you to want my body?

On Thursday night I posed naked for a magazine. Don't go thinking I am a model though. My body looks kind of OK in my bedroom mirror with the side lamp on. Beyond that, not so much.

But when the magazine said, 'We need five guys to strip but cover their crotch,' I figured, 'Why not? It's not every day you get asked to do it and it'll be something I can look back on....or burn and never see again.'

So, I went to the shoot and told the guy who was organising it to bring alcohol. He brought one beer. I downed it. It still had no effect.

Stripped of everything besides my inhibitions, I awkwardly stood in front of the camera.

The photographer told me how to pose but had it been America's Next Top Model, Jay Manuel would have bitch-slapped me.

He kept telling me to roll my shoulders, I'm guessing to hide the belly, and then he told me to reach up in the air, I'm guessing to hide the man breasts. :(

But the pics come out on 22nd July so I guess we'll see then.

Here's a sneak preview. Hot, no?

A Bad Day

I have had a bad day. I don't wanna talk about it. Oh, that's a song. Let's have a listen...



What have we learned?

Well, besides the title, that song had absolutely nothing to do with my day.

But it was pretty, so that's ok.

What's on my phone?

After months of thinking I must do it, I finally cleared a load of stuff off my phone today. Shall we see what was on it?

Firstly I have a photo from an installation (is that the right word?) of an artist at the ICA. His 'piece' consisted of entering a room wearing a spiderman face mask, then approaching a tent in the middle of the room, opening its flaps and then letting us see a giant hare inside dressed in the same jacket and mask.

He then took out a motocycle helmet and for twenty minutes drilled holes in it before finally filling it with strawberries and salt. Then he walked away.

I didn't get it.



Next up I have a picture of a good friend riding an elephant.



As for the rest, well, I feel it should carry the following title...

WARNING: Gay Overload!

First up was possibly the only 42 seconds I saw of Dolly at her O2 gig on Saturday.

I am not good at video-ing on my mobile and couldn't figure out which way I was supposed to hold it.

You can tilt your head to the left for ten seconds, or wait, the view doesn't get much better either way.



Next are some photos from the great Supremes exhibition at the V & A that is currently on. I would have bought a Love Child T shirt but it had a very narrow collar and I have strange feelings towards T shirts with narrow collars.





And there you go. That is what was on my phone.

Tube Journey (if my Mac had a hash, I'd use it here) 1

I made my way from Leicester Square and headed to Baker Street. On my tube were...

Two teenagers who looked like they could have been in Alphabeat. They were dancing.

A Chinese guy who was dancing with them. I couldn't decide if he was with them or copying them in that slightly socially awkward manner some Chinese people have.

There was also a middle age couple standing in the ahem, *adopts best Kath (& Kim) accent* vestibule. But they look awkward with all the dancing and move further down the tube.

Sitting down was an American couple. Although they are not talking I can tell they are American as they wear white trainers, white socks, green khaki cargo shorts, Ralph Lauren polo shirts and a backpack on both shoulders.

I stand by the window. I would like to say it is so i can observe everyone better but it is actually so I can fart and not be noticed.

I also pick up the paper and today it says this...

Libra
Don't keep saying it's OK, Libra, not if it really isn't. If you wear that forced smile too often, people will start to believe it's the real thing, and they won't necessarily be on hand to help out when you really need them. You know what they say about a problem shared...It's not always true, but it is on this occasion.

A word to the wise

If anyone ever comes up to you and says, 'Hey would you mind designing me a crossword? It has to be for girls 10-14 and be about films. But the answers can't be anything to do with actors or actresses.'

Don't even think about it. Just say, 'No'. It's not big, it's not clever and by no means is it any fun. On any level.

:(

Is anybody out there?

It's only the first day and already I'm thinking why am I writing this? Who should it be for? Why would anyone be interested?

On MySpace, I get it. I can customise my own profile, add friends, put music on it and there's a real sense of just doing it for myself. Whereas on here I feel there are so many other blogs that why would anyone give a shit about this one.

But I've decided that the one thing it is not going to do is turn into a gay self-loathing, over analytical, sob story because they are not fun to read. Just see this one as a point of reference.

So this is going to be a place for me to write and if people like it then great and if not then there will be a box saying something like,
'Readers = 0'.



PS I was going to call this one, 'Papa, can you hear me?' but felt that that was far too melodramatic. Especially for only my third post.

Here you come again, and here I go...

Last Saturday I shunned Gay Pride as I felt it was too gay. Instead I went to see Dolly Parton at the O2, with...er, a bunch of gays. At least I tried to.

I figured Dolly would have a support act so I could afford to not be there when the gates opened at the early time of 6:30pm. I spent the afternoon at a friends, showing her my Myspace profile and in particular the videos of Mariah slating Madonna, Millie Jackson performing Slow Tongue and the beginning of Dr Snuggles. Being a mother she was not too familiar with the site so I was more than happy talking about myself.

But just as I was showing her Francois Sagat dancing in a field to Britney Spears, I suddenly realised that the whole summer daylight thing had tricked me and it was actually 7:30pm. So I run down Wimbledon Hill and jump on a train. I walk through the carriage on to the next one as this one contains a bunch of drunken people coming back from the races.

I start fretting that I might not make it. We finally arrive at Waterloo and I race to the clipper that my friend has booked for me. It was supposed to be a relaxed evening as we er...'clipped'(?) down the thames. Instead I have a sweaty back and am thinking I have waited many many years to hear Dolly sing Jolene and I might just miss it.

I arrive at the clipper. It is running 20 minutes late and takes 40 minutes to get there. I curse and run back to Waterloo where I am told I must wait for a bus as the train is out. My sweat patch grows a bit bigger.

I wait 20 minutes for the bus then spend 30 minutes as it trapses round the arse end of nowhere and finally arrives at the O2.

It's windy outside and as I walk in to get my ticket stamped my eyes become teary. the security guys look at me like, 'Are you crying because you arrived later to see Dolly Parton?' I am embarassed.

I come in a side door and the whole of the auditorium is silent. Dolly is singing Little Sparrow, a little screechily, but acapella. I try to find my seat but realise it is in the middle of a row and everyone would have to get up for me, including the fat drunk man at the end of the aisle. I see a seat spare on the end and perch there.

Next she sings Here You Come Again, 9 to 5 and I Will Always Love you, then she says 'Goodnight, London' and walks off. I realise I have arrived in time for the encore...and that is it.

I leave feeling sad and see all the gays holding hands saying, 'Oh my God, she was amazing. I love her outfits and her hair!' 'I know she sounded great!' I was very upset. I went home and felt like crying.

I missed Jolene. So I shall post it here in memoriam.

Do you remember the first time?

Here I am again. The first post. What to write?

Well, here's an introduction. I've been writing my blog on Myspace for well over two years now and only recently have I realised how much I enjoy having it in my life. I used to put my work up there which I'm not really sure I was supposed to do, as well as write about the general happenings in my life whether it be sleeping with a boy named James, touching knees in the cinema with my all time #1 crush without him realising or problems I still have dealing with my father dying when I was 9. I like to think it was more fun than this sounds though.

Anyway I was at a shoot the other day when I met a real life blogger. I checked his out last night, felt inspired and thought, 'Hey, why not just do my own?' So here I am. I feel we should celebrate this with a completely gratuitous picture of Francois Sagat.


Hurrah!