At last, my kittens, the time has arrived where the fabulous foursome is forever (decomposing doesn't happen in superficial places like Hong Kong) immortalized on the wall of Balalaika. We've been polaroided. Also, we are right in the middle, replacing the random chick who was there before in her none-polaroid frame.
This was all yesterday - which was spent delightfully.
It started off (by the day starting off, of course I mean from about 2 pm onwards) with Glinda & I both receiving awards for different things. It was one of the swell (and possibly swell-ing) pretentiously wonderful events that entailed piano music and people in suits singing each others praises. Whoop.
Glinda won her award for her superb Spanish, and she did look just gosh-darn golly-wobble great. What the dick is a golly-wobble? Can I get a wtf from any random member of the audience?
I performed in a show the other night which is the most cheesy event every year. As one of the conductors said, 'there's naught wrong with cheese.' I sang 'I Kissed A Girl' (very much against my will) and I did a very appalling job of it.
Most people who are completely awful don't know it, luckily I am both aware and unapologetic - seeing as I auditioned with Giolio Caccini's 'Amarilli Mia Bella'. I can't sing pop for peanuts, and just about everyone in the concert hall is highly aware of that. But hey, at least this means that I get to hide in a niche of classical music now, growling at anyone who walks by (a bit like gollum-sp.).
I watched a video for an old amigo of mine, a music video. 'Blind Generation'. I watched it because I've been approached by a number (a big number...) of people who have seen it and know I know him. Most of these people have urine dripping down there legs due to having 'pissed themselves laughing' - and mocking comments escaping their every orifice.
I can't blame them for an opinion.
I myself did not think much of the video at all, primarily because of the music and not of the dancing around in untidy hoodie and apron. The acoustic version is much better than this plugged-up electric track. It makes it sound like any other rock song floating around on the ethernet. However I know that some of the music was not his choice. I commented 'Eh' on the video as 'Meh' would have been a little bit too mean. So I removed the M.
They should have changed the entry with the buskers, because that can easily be mistaken for the music - and when someone doesn't change every four bars with a beat of 120 bpm it wont sell.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTHjgtpDTfE
Went to a party last night at Club Living. But then I ditched the place.
I'd right something more humorous about the fact that we were donning electric rabbit ears but my head is complaining too much right now.
Friday 20 March 2009
Monday 9 March 2009
The Whom?
Hello there my kittens, yes I'm blogging within two days of the last one because I have to make up for the lack of activity.
Friday nights and the lights are not so much low, more completely off. If I was abba, I could have bought a clapper (just to be delightfully tacky). Went over to the HQ of one of the places I dabble in work (I say dabble, as an actual work ethic only possesses me when it applies to useful things like learning the accordion). This particular profession involves magic and my hula-hoop dancing, something which is just a shade more handy than a handful of lightly salted, frozen, and hostile scrambled eggs.
Serpiente was there, being ridiculed by the owner for some inconsequential misdemeanor. He was at that moment wearing some garish garment and out doing some performance or other, probably DJ-ing. So, awaiting his return to HQ, I found his street clothes in the office and changed into them. When he rang the bell to re-enter he was greeted by a grinning female manifestation of an alter-ego, eating a lollipop and demanding inappropriate things. Golly gee willickers bat-man, I even surprise myself sometimes.
After we changed into out respective clothes, respective and respectable, we scurried to his abode. We cheerily procrastinated burning time and energy. I'm happy to say that his dwelling place NEVER smells revolting. I've been in lairs of such a vile stench I've wondered at how the smell doesn't disgust itself and leave for greener pastures (to stink in). I've known better things to move away for another man. Serpiente'd gotten some shirts made for winter, that is out of winter-appropriate material, and donned them for another job of his.
He is occasionally working as a bar-tender at Maya. Maya is one of these bars consisting of sliding doors, black mirrors, trendily bad electronic music, staff in black, murmuring mascara-masked people, sleek taps, low lights, floating screens and elaborate drink menus... the kind of scene I prefer so much more than that of Carniges.
Carniges is this pocky little foul den of filth that smells of mid-life crises, beer stupors and the ever-present wanchai stench of pretentious tweenagers bearing there somewhat lopsided premature bosoms to the sweating underbelly populous of 852. They have things like 10 $ Vodka night, and girls with love-handles swinging their cellulite two-and-fro on the brass poles on the bar. The great pendulums of fat jostle for attention and clamor for air between the sweaty over-grown clumps of grime and salty perverts who freckle the unidentifiable sports junk on the wall. Glinda once got into a fight there (for which I love her dearly).
Give me to translate chinese Tolstoy before pushing me into that cesspool.
Other than that there are no real notes of consequence from friday, other than that the day before Glinda & I had performed in City Hall (an interestingly robust concert hall in hong kong, usually inhabited by orchestras and well-dressed people). Bless that soprano. Her solo was fantastic, I gave a large ungainly hug to her after the show. Serpeinte did not come. I am not at all impressed by that. Kaz was there to bestow flowers on us after the show, and the orchestra we performed with were superb.
On saturday I performed the usual nothings in an establishment of high price and little vice in Hong Kong's fat-cat side. Marble floors, tiny food, useless but impeccable staff. This particular show involved singing and wearing silver heels, something I usually only do when offered a fat wad of cash/starbucks.
After that I supped with stickyfinger-sister, and spent the night with her and then with Serpiente delighting in the antics of people with far more disposition to work at being funny.
All in all, my ducks... Bloody Mary never caused anything like Jesus to be, and the Holy Mother probably didn't come wielding a bottle of tabasco.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
Friday nights and the lights are not so much low, more completely off. If I was abba, I could have bought a clapper (just to be delightfully tacky). Went over to the HQ of one of the places I dabble in work (I say dabble, as an actual work ethic only possesses me when it applies to useful things like learning the accordion). This particular profession involves magic and my hula-hoop dancing, something which is just a shade more handy than a handful of lightly salted, frozen, and hostile scrambled eggs.
Serpiente was there, being ridiculed by the owner for some inconsequential misdemeanor. He was at that moment wearing some garish garment and out doing some performance or other, probably DJ-ing. So, awaiting his return to HQ, I found his street clothes in the office and changed into them. When he rang the bell to re-enter he was greeted by a grinning female manifestation of an alter-ego, eating a lollipop and demanding inappropriate things. Golly gee willickers bat-man, I even surprise myself sometimes.
After we changed into out respective clothes, respective and respectable, we scurried to his abode. We cheerily procrastinated burning time and energy. I'm happy to say that his dwelling place NEVER smells revolting. I've been in lairs of such a vile stench I've wondered at how the smell doesn't disgust itself and leave for greener pastures (to stink in). I've known better things to move away for another man. Serpiente'd gotten some shirts made for winter, that is out of winter-appropriate material, and donned them for another job of his.
He is occasionally working as a bar-tender at Maya. Maya is one of these bars consisting of sliding doors, black mirrors, trendily bad electronic music, staff in black, murmuring mascara-masked people, sleek taps, low lights, floating screens and elaborate drink menus... the kind of scene I prefer so much more than that of Carniges.
Carniges is this pocky little foul den of filth that smells of mid-life crises, beer stupors and the ever-present wanchai stench of pretentious tweenagers bearing there somewhat lopsided premature bosoms to the sweating underbelly populous of 852. They have things like 10 $ Vodka night, and girls with love-handles swinging their cellulite two-and-fro on the brass poles on the bar. The great pendulums of fat jostle for attention and clamor for air between the sweaty over-grown clumps of grime and salty perverts who freckle the unidentifiable sports junk on the wall. Glinda once got into a fight there (for which I love her dearly).
Give me to translate chinese Tolstoy before pushing me into that cesspool.
Other than that there are no real notes of consequence from friday, other than that the day before Glinda & I had performed in City Hall (an interestingly robust concert hall in hong kong, usually inhabited by orchestras and well-dressed people). Bless that soprano. Her solo was fantastic, I gave a large ungainly hug to her after the show. Serpeinte did not come. I am not at all impressed by that. Kaz was there to bestow flowers on us after the show, and the orchestra we performed with were superb.
On saturday I performed the usual nothings in an establishment of high price and little vice in Hong Kong's fat-cat side. Marble floors, tiny food, useless but impeccable staff. This particular show involved singing and wearing silver heels, something I usually only do when offered a fat wad of cash/starbucks.
After that I supped with stickyfinger-sister, and spent the night with her and then with Serpiente delighting in the antics of people with far more disposition to work at being funny.
All in all, my ducks... Bloody Mary never caused anything like Jesus to be, and the Holy Mother probably didn't come wielding a bottle of tabasco.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
Saturday 7 March 2009
Catch Me If You Kanch
Hello Kitty.
Did a runway the other night for L'Atier De Kanch/Kanchan Couture, I'm sure if you read this and know me then you'll be aware of the abundance of photographs that have emerged rather cheaply on facebook of this event. I wore an enormous blue get-up that had to be taped on and then held there, so my night entailed keeping my hands on my hips for the entire evening so as to not be abandonned like a dramatic woman by her clothes (and the trecherous adhesive thither applied).
The most entertaining part of the show came later. They'd painted a large section of my face purple (I forget who the makeup artist was), and this stuff is really very tricky to remove. Serpiente (like a good beau) came to see the show, sat right up in the front with his camera and got two very useless and endearing photos (endearing due to the attempt).
He picked me up after the shows and the shoot, and was charming enough to arm-in-arm me. To truly explain how much makeup I was wearing, I could feel the tops of my eyebrows using only my eyelashes (the fakes).
A deformed begger (hong kong has a lot of them) shouted at Serpiente as we bustled past her 'And you wont pay for me?' in her creaky cantonese.
Good times.
I tore off those damned tarantula-genital eye lashes when I got to Serpiente's. They are still at his mini bar.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
Did a runway the other night for L'Atier De Kanch/Kanchan Couture, I'm sure if you read this and know me then you'll be aware of the abundance of photographs that have emerged rather cheaply on facebook of this event. I wore an enormous blue get-up that had to be taped on and then held there, so my night entailed keeping my hands on my hips for the entire evening so as to not be abandonned like a dramatic woman by her clothes (and the trecherous adhesive thither applied).
The most entertaining part of the show came later. They'd painted a large section of my face purple (I forget who the makeup artist was), and this stuff is really very tricky to remove. Serpiente (like a good beau) came to see the show, sat right up in the front with his camera and got two very useless and endearing photos (endearing due to the attempt).
He picked me up after the shows and the shoot, and was charming enough to arm-in-arm me. To truly explain how much makeup I was wearing, I could feel the tops of my eyebrows using only my eyelashes (the fakes).
A deformed begger (hong kong has a lot of them) shouted at Serpiente as we bustled past her 'And you wont pay for me?' in her creaky cantonese.
Good times.
I tore off those damned tarantula-genital eye lashes when I got to Serpiente's. They are still at his mini bar.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
You Can Have Whatever I Like.
Well my kittens, I've been interrupted. I've realized that this blog is not nearly as witty as I should like it to be, possibly because I am not that much of a witty person. There is a difference between making constant innuendoes and simply declaring that timeless syllable 'sex!' whenever things get too quiet.
I'm the ghoul in the burrow.
In any case, dears, I've been hong konging very vigorously in the last few weeks. I found a booze-stirrer that looks like a giant plastic sperm thanks to my dear amigo Dr.Melonhead who works as a bar here in HK. He is a delightful man who has seen me go through a copious amount of 'oxygen sharing apparatus' (otherwise known as swains) because I like to bring them to his bar.
Went to a fundraiser/cocktail party for cancer at 'FINDS' a charming bar/lounge in Lang Kwai Fong. Got the invite from Dee who wore Christian Louboutin, and I went with Serpiente (current Beau) who wore a Hugo suit (Dolce being previously donned on valentines day). Jay Parmanand, Monica Blanch & Scott Thompson were the mixers, flown in from some destination to booze up the wondrous world of hong kong, each with their own specialty drinks.
Serpiente started on the Apoteke, which apparently tasted of absolute balls. By the time we arrived we were both a couple of olive-juice/iloveyou martinis forward and so, deciding to take it slow, I went straight for the Triple O's (orgasm) three shots.
It was delightful, and in the color of a traffic light (never a sign to stop).
For a cancer-cocktail/fundraiser the hubbub-pub bubbs spent a lot of time smoking, but this is 852.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
I'm the ghoul in the burrow.
In any case, dears, I've been hong konging very vigorously in the last few weeks. I found a booze-stirrer that looks like a giant plastic sperm thanks to my dear amigo Dr.Melonhead who works as a bar here in HK. He is a delightful man who has seen me go through a copious amount of 'oxygen sharing apparatus' (otherwise known as swains) because I like to bring them to his bar.
Went to a fundraiser/cocktail party for cancer at 'FINDS' a charming bar/lounge in Lang Kwai Fong. Got the invite from Dee who wore Christian Louboutin, and I went with Serpiente (current Beau) who wore a Hugo suit (Dolce being previously donned on valentines day). Jay Parmanand, Monica Blanch & Scott Thompson were the mixers, flown in from some destination to booze up the wondrous world of hong kong, each with their own specialty drinks.
Serpiente started on the Apoteke, which apparently tasted of absolute balls. By the time we arrived we were both a couple of olive-juice/iloveyou martinis forward and so, deciding to take it slow, I went straight for the Triple O's (orgasm) three shots.
It was delightful, and in the color of a traffic light (never a sign to stop).
For a cancer-cocktail/fundraiser the hubbub-pub bubbs spent a lot of time smoking, but this is 852.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
Sunday 1 March 2009
More?
My oh my, life has really taken off in a very extravagant manner.
I haven't the work-ethic to update my life completely, all the shenanigans that have occurred since my last post and this are probably so elaborate and detailed that they are what I started to blog for. Naturally, due to the nihilistic kaka-de-toro that is the ethernet, I've neglected to update.
Well, lets see then...
About a month ago, four weeks ago tomorrow, I picked myself up to Wanchai. See, I'd been hearing an inordinate amount about a particular individual who was both reputed to be actually amiable (something generally unheard of in this city) and more importantly unmarooned. We got to talking before an actual face to face encounter, with him sending off a message to me and I giving the usual charming and unconsciously sardonic reply.
After further exchanges of goodwill and compliments, practically in harmony, we arranged to meet. He works as a bartender, and so I headed over to his place of trabaja on that fine February afternoon. After that we scaddadled to the Peace Steps with a corona a piece and good intentions. For once my good intentions had good results. I'd given him a half-hug as he had shouted my corona.
Ahhhh I must fly!
More later, lovelies.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat
I haven't the work-ethic to update my life completely, all the shenanigans that have occurred since my last post and this are probably so elaborate and detailed that they are what I started to blog for. Naturally, due to the nihilistic kaka-de-toro that is the ethernet, I've neglected to update.
Well, lets see then...
About a month ago, four weeks ago tomorrow, I picked myself up to Wanchai. See, I'd been hearing an inordinate amount about a particular individual who was both reputed to be actually amiable (something generally unheard of in this city) and more importantly unmarooned. We got to talking before an actual face to face encounter, with him sending off a message to me and I giving the usual charming and unconsciously sardonic reply.
After further exchanges of goodwill and compliments, practically in harmony, we arranged to meet. He works as a bartender, and so I headed over to his place of trabaja on that fine February afternoon. After that we scaddadled to the Peace Steps with a corona a piece and good intentions. For once my good intentions had good results. I'd given him a half-hug as he had shouted my corona.
Ahhhh I must fly!
More later, lovelies.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat
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