Well if that title didn't get your attention then you need to either masturbate or read Charles Dickens.
My apologies for being a little crude there, but I bet you're reading this now, eh?
So then my kittens, as you may remember I was most aggravated at Serpeinte for his misconduct. If you have a truly fantastic memory, or ability to scroll down, then you may recall that I was actually ultimately glad of his being somewhat evil as it means I have an easy excuse for booting his ruddy behind.
Its all due to my Stickyfinger-Sister, who is possibly the most legendary Asian to have ever graced the earth wit her presence. Yes, my kittens, this is getting hyperbolic.
Let me set the scene, dears.
I'm incredibly aggravated at my then beau, for aforementioned rudeness. Stickyfinger-Sister and Glinda know this, Glinda being a fabulously intelligent individual she prodded me forth to break it off. I should remember next time that Glinda is always right. Stickyfinger-Sister lives on a separate island from Hong Kong, one that is a ferry ride away.
I had a job the Wednesday before the Easter break, a Spa add. (if you have me on face book, I should have it up). During the photo shoot my phone goes all out of wack and I can't exactly wrangle my spasmodic popularity into comprehension when my face is being lit and prodded by the wrath of a thousand Q-tips. So I continued contorting my visage into postures of relaxation and, truth be told, extreme need of caffeine. (I do not actually relax when lacking in coffee, in fact I start to gradually hate the world as I vibrate in quietly withdrawn rage... and I also loose the ability to jig)
My phone continues to shudder like me contemplating cellulite. Mystery....
The male model a worked with, Bow (only he knows why this nick name), very kindly offered to pay for the cab back from the shoot and so, rummaging for my phone I see that Stickyfinger-Sister has called.
When I returned her communication, I was slapped over the ears with a wall of exited sound.
"JHONNIE CAT! I FOUND SOMEONE PERFECT FOR YOU!" Her face bellows. In our dialect of spinglacantarinish (Spanish/Cantonese/mandarin/English, a language I'm fairly certain only she and I can understand) we discuss this person. I'm going to call him "Old Soul" on this blog. The primary description that gets repeated time and time again, and later by other people, is that he is me with a penis.
I said, ME with a PENIS.
I write a condescending blog all about myself, my life, my friends, and how much me me me there is to go around. In case you haven't realized I am a narcissist.
Please proceed to put two and two together. Or in this case, One and One.
Can I get a hell yeah from any random member of the audience?
You can better you're bottom dollar (and your buttock penny) I ditched Serpiente as fast as Nokia would allow.
...
So the next day my lovely sister introduces us. We meet in the timeless domain of Balalaika LKF, and I must say I agree with Stickyfinger-Sister on her reaction. Bless that girl to bits. Its gotten to the point I don't really need to ask if this or that is a favourite or not with Old Soul.
I had a very long discussion with Stickyfinger-Sister about why I had nicknamed him Blue Jay (in general, not on this blog) - that being because "Blue " = slightly dark or distressed people are more interesting and also J being a letter of relevance.
Although its been settled on some thing else, obv.
...
On another note, a Tramp, Slut, Coquette, Whore, ect. is defined by a female who takes other peoples mates or has more than one at the same time. I realize I've been skirting from both males and females rather quickly but I should like to add this.
None of them had significant others to any degree, never more than one at the same time.
Flower once redefined 'slut' as : 'a woman with the morals of a man'. I'm not sure weather this is right or not. I'd better ask Glinda.
On another note again (thus completing a rather nice chord), I've started my fourth book having finished the first three. Having a Muse again is wonderful.
That's all for now, my kittens. More later.
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
Monday, 20 April 2009
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
I Do Believe In Baileys!
My kittens, what tidings...
First of all, my dears, I must teach you all to hunt and kill snakes, like good cats.
Do you remember the individual whom I so fondly nicknamed on this blog, 'Serpiente'?
Well he has managed to aggravate me to a level that eczema would be envious of... he has far outstripped any diaper rash that has ever trailed its woeful spell across the many buttocks of infants worlds wide, in terms or pure irritation.
Okay, I've been good to this one. I have.
A friend of mine is developing a new kind of Jell-O, one that is supposed to resemble a species of cocktail and he needs to do a lot of research for it, including interviewing bartenders. Serpiente (my apparent beau) is the bar tender to Maya. If you want my opinions on wanchai then read a couple posts ago, they are obnoxious and accurate.
I'd set up an interview date.
I was intended to record a piece of music for a very important portfolio, myself being the singer and Serpiente playing the guitar. I can play guitar but he is more accurate if otherwise musically crippled (although he can identify different kind of car by their unique song of flatulence).
I'd set up a date and time for him. I'd also asked him to accompany me as an escort on a gosee (it sometimes not being a good idea to venture into such matters on your own) and he'd agreed. Also another shoot I'd had coming up at the time.
Well he managed to forget all such engagements and appear in affectionate photographs with another girl on facebook over the weekend.
WHAT A GENTLEMAN!
Tell you what though... I'm all rather glad of this.
I may gripe about his misconduct... but truly, better fruits have been born from it.
Thanks to my lovely Sticky-Finger-Sister...
Goddamn that girl is a legend.
See next post for why Serpiente can kiss my sweet asian ass.
All my love, Kittens,
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
First of all, my dears, I must teach you all to hunt and kill snakes, like good cats.
Do you remember the individual whom I so fondly nicknamed on this blog, 'Serpiente'?
Well he has managed to aggravate me to a level that eczema would be envious of... he has far outstripped any diaper rash that has ever trailed its woeful spell across the many buttocks of infants worlds wide, in terms or pure irritation.
Okay, I've been good to this one. I have.
A friend of mine is developing a new kind of Jell-O, one that is supposed to resemble a species of cocktail and he needs to do a lot of research for it, including interviewing bartenders. Serpiente (my apparent beau) is the bar tender to Maya. If you want my opinions on wanchai then read a couple posts ago, they are obnoxious and accurate.
I'd set up an interview date.
I was intended to record a piece of music for a very important portfolio, myself being the singer and Serpiente playing the guitar. I can play guitar but he is more accurate if otherwise musically crippled (although he can identify different kind of car by their unique song of flatulence).
I'd set up a date and time for him. I'd also asked him to accompany me as an escort on a gosee (it sometimes not being a good idea to venture into such matters on your own) and he'd agreed. Also another shoot I'd had coming up at the time.
Well he managed to forget all such engagements and appear in affectionate photographs with another girl on facebook over the weekend.
WHAT A GENTLEMAN!
Tell you what though... I'm all rather glad of this.
I may gripe about his misconduct... but truly, better fruits have been born from it.
Thanks to my lovely Sticky-Finger-Sister...
Goddamn that girl is a legend.
See next post for why Serpiente can kiss my sweet asian ass.
All my love, Kittens,
Turrah.
Jhonnie Cat.
Friday, 20 March 2009
Immortalized!
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.
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.
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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